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bayjaruchel · 6 months

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Whammy Kiss Me (Whammy Hug)

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Pairing: Clapton Davis/AFAB Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Maybe Seven Minutes in Heaven isn't a pointless party game, after all. (3.9k | originally posted on ao3 | Masterlist )

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It's not until the closet door shuts that you realize the gravity of your current situation.

You've been at the party for at least a couple of hours; you've grown used to the general noise. The slight haziness of the air. You're not quite hammered yet, but you've got one or two drinks in your system. Just enough that you can enjoy the feeling without worrying about the hangover tomorrow. Judging by the way that a couple of people had been giggling and swaying, not everyone who was sitting around the circle shared your sense of self-conservation.

Although it hadn't been the brightest outside— it was dim, but also somewhat illuminated at the same time with the neon lighting— the single lightbulb hanging above your heads doesn't do much against the darkness.

Yeah. Heads, plural.

Luckily, there's only one person in the cramped space besides yourself.

Unluckily, that person is one Clapton Davis.

It's not that you don't like him. Actually, you feel the exact opposite towards him, but that's not the point. It's just that— you know, you could spend seven minutes just sitting in silence, doing absolutely nothing— but you're suddenly hyper-aware of the way your knees are brushing. The way there's something in the air. Maybe you're just imagining it, but there's something … restless. Something like—

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted when he speaks.

"So," he says, casually. As if you're not within necking distance in a cramped space. "You enjoying the party?" There's that same easy grin on his face. He's completely at ease, apparently. You're not sure if that's because of his ever-present (and sometimes misguided) confidence, or because he's used to stupid little party games like this. It's probably a combination of both.

"Yeah." You find yourself replying, almost on autopilot. "The punch isn't as bad as I thought it would be."

Clapton honest-to-god giggles at that. "It's still pretty shitty, though."

"I wouldn't say shitty."

"Awful, then." He raises his eyebrows. "Let's just say that it's an … acquired taste."

You can't help but smile. "Fair." He's right— you're pretty sure that the only people who actually enjoy it are the people who regularly attend these parties. Said people usually just come to get drunk, anyway, and the punch works wonders. Magically malicious.

"It's either that or cheap beer," he muses. "Or wine busted from mommy and daddy's fridge in the basement."

"Expensive wine?"

"Could be." Clapton shrugs, pulling his knees closer to his chest. You try in vain not to focus on his arms as he wraps them around his legs. Was it really necessary to wear the tank top? "Maybe," he says. "But I doubt that anyone here would wanna drink it."

You unconsciously mirror his posture. "Why's that?"

He snorts. "Too classy."

It sort of makes sense. You can't really see Josh from Calculus sipping a glass of pinot noir, much less enjoying it. Maybe one has to start from the bottom of the hypothetical alcohol pyramid and work their way up. The bottom, meaning Bud Light. Or Coors Light. All of the Lights.

"Cheap beer it is, then."

Clapton's grin is back.

"Unfortunately."

You're starting to relax, even if you can still feel your heart pounding whenever his eyes meet yours. Even if your eyes are lingering. When he reaches up to idly run his fingers through his hair, you can't stop yourself from wondering: is it as soft as it looks?

"How much time d'you think we have left?" He asks, just as you're attempting to reel yourself back in.

"Uh," you start. Nice. "I don't know— maybe, like, four minutes or so?" Spending a couple of minutes talking about drinks wasn't exactly the plan, but you're not exactly complaining. It's still better than awkward silence. You wonder— again— about how many times he's done this before. How long does it usually take before people give in?

The muffled music from outside has been reduced to just the thumping of the bass, and the rhythm matches your pulse.

"Four minutes," he echoes.

You can't hold his gaze, glancing down at your knees instead.

"Yeah."

You can tell when Clapton adjusts himself where he's sitting, but you have a feeling that he hasn't looked away. Not yet.

"What do you wanna do now?" He asks, innocently. "Four minutes is a long time."

When you look up, you're proven right. The faint glow of the light doesn't hide anything. It just makes everything feel vaguely dreamlike. And, okay. This is pretty cliche. But you've watched too many movies, seen too many shows— you know what that look is. That look doesn't mean that he wants to play rock-paper-scissors for the remainder of your time left.

"I don't know," you manage. "What do you want to do?"

His eyes dip briefly before flicking back up.

"I was asking you," he teases softly. "We've already had a pointless conversation." He mimes checking a box midair with his pointer finger. "Check. And we've already sat in silence for a couple of seconds." He repeats the motion on another imaginary box. "Check."

"Oh, ouch. Talking about alcohol is pointless?" You're a little amused. "So, what's left on the list?"

Clapton raises his eyebrows again.

There's a shift in the air.

"C'mon, don't tell me that you actually don't know." His tone's dropped to little more than a whisper, but due to your closeness, you can hear him loud and clear. Your brief bit of confidence wanes— your face warms, and you pause. Sure, you're well aware of what he's implying— but you're not sure if he's just joking around or not. When has Clapton Davis ever been serious, besides that one time he competed in a skateboarding competition in the sixth grade?

The lighthearted lilt in his voice is almost gone, though.

"I know what you're trying to say," you finally reply, matching his volume. And you do want to kiss him. You really, really do.

"Okay," he murmurs in return. "Well, that's good." He dares to smile, though you know you're weak to it.

"I don't have to ask you out loud, right?"

He definitely already knows the answer to that question.

"Yeah, you don't."

You've tuned out the outside world, muffled as it already was. The music and noise fade to a quiet hum. You can hear the quiet buzz of the lightbulb— the barely audible clattering as your back moves against the uncomfortable storage shelves— the sound of his sneakers scuffing against the hardwood floor—

"But if I did ask," he says, uncharacteristically hesitant, "you'd say yes?"

Your heartbeat thrums in your throat.

The seconds tick by— you know you can't wait. It's been at least a minute and a half—

"Just do it," you breathe.

And he does.

The first thing you register is how soft his lips are. Then, his hands— cupping your face— your own hands reaching up to tangle in his hair, tugging him closer. His hair is as soft as it looks. There's no slow build-up because there's no time for that. All you can think about is him— the little sounds he lets out as you kiss, the way he can't wait when you part, his breath briefly coming in soft pants before he leans in to capture your lips again. He tastes vaguely like beer, and maybe that would have bothered you if it were any other guy— but with him, you don't really care at all. His nose presses a little awkwardly against yours a couple of times, but he makes up for it with how eager he is. You know he's not a bad kisser; he's just impatient.

You lose yourself for a little while. It feels like forever. You wrap your arms around his neck, reluctantly dropping your grip on his hair. His hands start to stray, one anchoring itself behind your neck and the other traveling lower. And lower—

There's a loud series of knocks at the door.

Clapton's slower to react, and you're the one to pull back first. When you do, he leans forward to chase your lips— but stops upon noticing your expression. In direct comparison to you, he just looks giddy. Almost dazed. His hair's a little disheveled from earlier, and he hasn't let go of you yet.

"Huh," he says, before the door is yanked open.

You're immediately greeted by exactly what you had expected. Whistles. Catcalls. General hooting. Some "called it!"s and "you owe me five bucks, man!"s.

Clapton just grins, reveling in it all. Because of course he would. But, before you can get too embarrassed, he's getting to his feet, pulling you along with him as you both exit the closet— exiting what had previously been your own little world. Instead of just rejoining the circle, like part of you expects him to do, he pauses to lean over to you and whisper:

"Wanna go upstairs?"

You blink at him. He's still smiling— he almost looks star-struck. You feel that familiar swoop in your stomach. Maybe it's a stupid decision that you'll regret later, but—

"Okay," you agree.

The whistling doesn't stop as he grabs your wrist, making a beeline for the stairs. The son of a bitch takes them two at a time, and you do your best to keep up. Upstairs, it's quieter than it is on the ground floor, since there are fewer people up here; still, though, you can hear the music echoing through the hallway. A girl's laughter rings out, followed by a string of giggles.

It's not very hard to find an empty bedroom. You gingerly shut the door behind you, taking a moment to look around. There are one or two posters here and there, and a few photos placed on the dresser. Other than that, it's kind of bare-bones. A guest room, maybe? You sure hope so. While you're distracted, Clapton leisurely sits down on the bed, bouncing a couple of times.

"Cozy," he remarks, and you turn to look at him.

"You think?"

He grins. "Sure do."

You sit next to him on the mattress. It's not bad. For a moment, he just looks at you. Taking you in.

But he doesn't hesitate much longer, and leans in. Automatically, you angle your head just so. Unlike before, he kisses you in small pecks at first. One of his hands finds your cheek. However, as the minutes draw by, your kisses grow longer. More languid. He hums into your mouth, and you move closer. Closer, until your thighs are brushing his, and you're nearly off-balance, but it's still not close enough.

He draws back. This close to him, you can pick out his freckles. His eyelashes are long, framing half-lidded eyes. His lips are still parted.

"Should I lay back?" He asks, hushed. "Or do you wanna—"

"Go ahead," you interrupt.

Clapton flops backward onto the pillows, wiggling around to make himself more comfortable. When you think he's got himself in a good position, you crawl over him. The way he looks up at you— it makes you a little lightheaded, but in the best way possible. His hands find your waist. You can do little but settle against him, pressing your lips to his for the nth time.

Enthusiastically, he responds, and it's not long before your kisses grow messier. Needier. His hands wander, moving down to rest on your hips, and then lower— you let out a gasp when he squeezes your ass, and he uses the opportunity to pull you harder against him. You're no stranger to how strong his arms are, but, yeah, being on top of him like this is an entirely new experience. He's soft and firm in equal measures, his chest sturdy where it's pressed against yours. His hands are warm when he moves them under your shirt, up your back, making you shiver.

Bracing your hands on his torso, you sit up. For a second, he's confused, but that quickly fades away as you reach down to pull up your shirt.

"Holy shit," he murmurs. He scrambles to discard his tank top too, yanking it over his head. You were right— he's toned, but there's still a fair bit of softness there. Of course his chest doesn't have any hair, but at least he kept the trail. You lay back on top of him, the feeling of his skin against yours like this causing you to shudder again. Clapton's hands start to explore once more— square palms, strong fingers. It must be a little bit of an uncomfortable stretch for him, but his thumbs find your nipples, tracing soft circles.

You briefly enjoy the sensation. Then, your breath stutters when he gently urges you forward and then leans up so he can take them into his mouth. It must be self-indulgent for him, too, because he spends more time than necessary— sucking, flicking his tongue— but it's not like you're complaining.

When he finally stops, he presses a kiss to the middle of your chest before laying back on the pillows. You move back down, and can't resist the urge to kiss him in return. His jaw— his cheek, which makes him smile. He's already started hooking his fingers in your waistband, and your mild surprise must show on your face, because he abruptly stops.

"Sorry," he grimaces, "am I going too fast? I - Is that too much?"

Hastily, you shake your head. "Oh, no. Not at all. It's fine. Just— it just caught me off-guard."

"Okay." The worry vanishes in an instant. "Okay, I'm gonna."

You let him slide down your bottoms, and then take them off the rest of the way yourself. His shorts quickly join the rest of the clothing on the floor. Now, you're more or less sitting in his lap— he props himself up on the headboard, his breath heavy as you shift on top of him. With only a few layers between you, you're aware of the shape of him through his boxers.

You grind your hips with purpose, and he swears under his breath. When you do it again, he muffles himself by kissing you. The friction— you know it's not going to be enough— makes you more desperate, and it must be having the same effect on him, judging by the way he's slightly squirming underneath you. He's not quite thrusting up against you, but it's obvious that if he were in a better position, he would be. When your cunt brushes against him, catching at that angle, he moans openly into your mouth. You draw back only for air. If you could, you'd keep kissing him forever.

"You gonna let me— mmh — fuck you?" He pants, "ohmygod, 'cause if you don't, you— you are one sick bastard—"

You smile, although you want him just as badly as he wants you. You're doing a slightly better job at keeping yourself composed, after all. "I don't know," you murmur, "isn't this nice?"

Clapton bites his lip when you grind down harder this time. "I — well," his hands scramble on your waist, your hips, "it is pretty nice, but, like — I just wanna take the logical— shitfuck — next step, right?" He's looking up at you with wide eyes, "and you are gonna let me, right?"

"Right," you repeat, your breath catching when you roll your hips at just the right angle, "I am gonna let you, don't worry."

He's flushed a pretty pink, pupils blown wide, obscuring hazel eyes; you drink him in. "Thought so," he grins. Before you can ask, he's already answering. "And, uh. There's a condom in the pocket of my shorts, if you're worried about that."

You're in mild disbelief, abruptly halting your movements.

"In your—?"

Clapton looks a little bashful, though he's still grinning. "Could you just get it?"

You're already awkwardly dismounting his lap. "Sure, sure." True to his word, there's a condom in the left pocket of his shorts, and you fish it out without a problem. You glance back at him for a moment, and he doesn't even try and pretend that he wasn't staring. Oh, well. A little clumsily, you get back onto the bed, and move to straddle him again— but he gently stops you.

"Hey," he says, "can we switch places?"

You don't need much time to consider it. "Alright."

Now, he's hovering between your legs, and you're the one lying back. His gaze lingers, but he can't wait for much longer. You lift your hips, and he slides your last remaining piece of fabric off.

"Fuck," he breathes, just before he gets to work. With the pad of one of his fingers, he collects the wetness that had been gathering, then smoothly slides the digit into your cunt. Swiftly, he adds another, the sensation odd at first, but you know you'll quickly get used to it. When he begins to lightly trace your clit, it only makes it easier for you to loosen up— both figuratively and literally. And he's still adding another. Maybe three fingers aren't strictly necessary, but he crooks them, finding the spot that makes an almost embarrassing noise tumble from your lips.

You spread your thighs wider. You could definitely cum like this if you let him continue for a while. Glancing up at his face— oh, he definitely would if you wanted him to. He's torn between looking at how his fingers disappear into you and your face. How you're reacting to his touch. It's a little flattering. But as much as part of you wants to see what he's willing to do —

"I'm — " You feel yourself tense, and you barely stifle an involuntary moan when he thumbs your nub again. "I'm ready. You can —"

He doesn't even wait until you finish the sentence. He's already pulling out his fingers, tugging off his boxers. Your eyes are immediately drawn downward. Again, you're not surprised that he's shaved. Length-wise, he's probably around average, but girth-wise he's nice and thick. There's a bead of precum at the tip— if he wasn't already tearing open the condom with his teeth in a move that he's probably practiced before, you would've offered to blow him or something. Maybe some other time.

Your idle thoughts dissipate when he lines himself up and, with an amount of care that nearly belies his previous neediness, presses in. You both moan in unison— he sounds infinitely more strained. He takes a moment to catch his breath, but—

He starts moving. Little thrusts, at first. Then, pulling out more, pushing back in. His mouth falls open, and you can't resist throwing your arms around his neck, pulling him down. He groans, and you take it in, taking it with his increasing pace. It's good— his thumb finds your sensitive apex again, and that makes you jolt, but you know he's trying to give you a smooth progression between slow and fast. That's not what you want, though. Especially not now. Inches from his lips, you mutter:

"Don't hold back."

And that's all it takes. You can vaguely hear the bed creaking when he snaps his hips up to meet yours, roughly fucking into you with almost reckless abandon. Your kisses are sloppy, uncoordinated. But you wouldn't prefer it any other way. You know he probably wouldn't be making those noises if he didn't know they were muffled against you. Some are high-pitched— ragged gasps, moans, and at least one whimper. You also know you don't sound much different. He can't reach down to rub your throbbing clit anymore, due to how he's positioned, but the way that he's angled is more than satisfying in that regard.

You lose track of time, only aware of his hips colliding against yours— his lips, his hands — the way he's starting to babble. "Fuck, you look so pretty like this," he confesses in a rush, "god, your eyes. I could just — I could just look at you like this forever. If you could see yourself — nnh — you would know." A sharp intake of breath, a few kisses, and then, "Ohfuck. Shit. You're gonna ruin this forever for me. I can't — "

His rhythm is starting to falter. You can feel the heat pooling low in your gut, the tension that comes before the inevitable release. You tighten around him. His hands braced near your shoulders tremble, and you can see his biceps flexing with the effort of holding himself up like this.

"Please," Clapton chokes out, and he doesn't specify as to what he wants, but you have a pretty good idea. "I'm gonna— "

"Do it," you manage, despite your own climbing pitch, "c'mon, give it to me—"

"Fuck— " You feel him pulse. For a split second, you wonder how it would feel if he didn't have on the condom— but your thoughts are quickly overtaken, as you're not too far behind. You twitch, spasming around his cock as your mouth falls open. The tension peaks, the heat spikes—

He fucks you, gently, as you float back down, riding out your orgasm. Your eyelids flutter shut, and your breath slows, but your pulse is still a fast-paced staccato.

He gingerly lays on top of you, catching his breath. It's hot against your throat. The world ceases spinning, and you let out a long sigh.

He mimics it, and you glance down at him.

You're reluctant to say it, but seriously, this is someone else's house. Guest room or not.

"We should get cleaned up or something."

He blinks once, lazily. Seemingly, he's content to lay on your chest. Of course, he's the type to get sleepy after sex. But at least he makes an effort to respond. "Ugh," he says. And then: "Jus' gimme a minute or something."

You give him a look, and he surrenders. "Okay, fine."

He slips out with a wet noise, and you only miss the fullness for a moment. Getting off the mattress, he throws out the condom, then accepts the wad of tissues you hand him. It's not the best, but it'll have to do for now. You manage to get most of the evidence of your arousal off before pulling back on your clothes. There's a mirror, thankfully, so you go to try and make yourself look less … fucked. Not that it would really matter. There are definitely people in worse states.

Clapton stands next to you, but doesn't even try to fix his hair. On him, it looks fashionably disheveled, anyway.

It's silent, before he interjects:

"Is this … gonna be just a one-time thing?"

The strange apprehensiveness is back, and you chance a glance at him. He's not meeting your eyes, but you're sure he's looking at you in the mirror's reflection.

"I don't know," is all you can think to say, "do you want it to be?" A beat. "We could totally go back to being just sort of friends, if that's what you want."

Clapton visibly swallows. "I … "

You wait, patiently. He takes another few seconds.

"I liked that," he mutters, "a lot. And I— I meant all that stuff. About you."

He's still not meeting your eyes. It makes you pause.

"I liked it too," you reply, softly.

The look he gives you next says it all. You know he's not big on old-school romance. He's not big on flowery words— his English grades can certainly attest to that. He's more of an action-oriented guy. Even if you don't get a verbal confession just yet— and you know you will, just not now— you suddenly understand what he's trying to convey. So, you pull yourself together and throw caution to the wind.

"You wanna get out of here?"

He beams.

#clapton davis x reader #clapton davis x you #clapton davis imagines #clapton davis smut #josh hutcherson x reader

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another-lost-mc · 11 months

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When They Say "F*ck Lucifer" (& Think MC Takes It Literally) Headcanons | THE DEMON BROTHERS 2.6k words | NSFW | gn!Reader | Crack Treated Seriously Content warnings: Cursing, implied relationships, pet names, jealous/possessive behaviour, misunderstandings and poor communication, demon form mentioned (Satan), suggestive content.

BELPHEGOR

"Belphie, it's time for dinner!" Lucifer sent you to find him, and when he wasn't napping in your bed, you knew where to check next.

He mumbles something into his pillow and you can't make out the words, but you know he's listening. "It's the third night this week you've skipped eating dinner with the family. Come on, you know how Lucifer is."

Belphie turns his head towards you enough so that you can hear him more clearly. "Oh, fuck Lucifer." He rolls over and starts snoring again, and you stomp back down the attic stairs in frustration.

When you join the others for dinner, you jab your fork into your food with more force than necessary. You're halfway done your meal when Belphie suddenly plops down into the empty chair beside yours. He reaches for your free hand and leans against your shoulder.

"Belphie?" you ask him curiously, but he says nothing. He doesn't eat anything either. He tries to cuddle even closer to you instead, and he shoots glares at his older brother sitting at the head of the table.

It takes you longer to eat than normal with one of your hands firmly tucked in Belphie's grip. As soon as you finish your dinner, he pulls you away from the table and back up to the attic. He curls around you for the rest of the night like he's afraid you might disappear if he doesn't.

He doesn't skip any more meals for the rest of the week.

BEELZEBUB

You have one hand stretched out in front of you, pressed firmly against Beel's chest. The other is holding a container of sweets behind your back.

"No, you can't have these," you remind Beel for the hundredth time. "They're for tomorrow, remember?"

But Beel's only half-paying attention to you. His focus is latched onto the container in your hand, and if he wasn't worried about hurting you by accident, he'd simply take it from you.

"It's not fair," his low voice rumbles thickly, and there's drool leaking from the corner of his mouth now. "I'm starving!"

You shake your head and look around for something else to tempt Beel with instead. "Lucifer bought these for Diavolo, and we're taking them to the tea party tomorrow."

"Fuck Lucifer," Beel growls, and it's the loudest and angriest he's sounded yet. You both look startled by the outburst; your hand slips away from holding him back, and his jaw drops open when he realizes what he said to you.

You hold the container tightly against your chest. He could easily take it from you now, but he surprises you when he doesn't. His eyes are fixed solely on your face, as if the thing he wanted moments ago is completely irrelevant. He holds his arms out like he's trying to block you from leaving the kitchen.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. "I'll look for something else to eat, but please, don't go."

ASMODEUS

"Are you sure you should post that?" you ask, glancing over Asmo's shoulder as he types another inflammatory reply on Devilgram.

"Of course!" he exclaims. "You read their comment. ‘Pretentious and gaudy?’ MY clothing line?! No, I won’t stand for it.”

He’s typing quickly and you’re not exactly sure what his Devildom insult is supposed to mean, but you imagine it’s not very nice by the way Asmo cackles when he hits Send.

“I don’t want to be that person,” you start nervously while Asmo scrolls through the other comments on his post, “but maybe you should ignore them? All this back and forth is drawing a lot of negative attention to your Devilgram feed.”

Asmo pauses what he's doing and looks at you suspiciously. “Who told you that?”

You bite your lip and look away. “Lucifer asked me to talk to you about it.” When Asmo rolls his eyes, you throw your hands up. “Well, it’s true, isn’t it? Aren’t you worried this little spat might impact your new launch?”

Asmo jabs his D.D.D. in your direction. “He’s only worried about drama if it involves someone close to Diavolo.” He runs his hand through his hair and looks down at his phone screen again. “Fuck him. If Lucifer cares that much, he can come talk to me himself.”

“Ugh!” You stand up with a huff and head towards the door. You tried to talk to him and it’s obvious he’s not going to listen. You hope Lucifer believes you later when you tell him you tried to get Asmo to see reason.

When you reach for the door handle, you’re surprised when Asmo suddenly blocks your way. Sometimes you forget how fast demons can move.

“I didn’t mean that,” he says seriously. His housecoat falls open slightly when he leans towards you, and his expression isn't angry but dead-serious.

“Didn’t mean what?” you ask confusedly.

“Fucking my brother. Don’t do it.” His hands grasp your shoulders and you can’t help but laugh.

“I wasn’t going to? I was going to go back to my room while you carry on with your…” you trail off, gesturing to his abandoned D.D.D. on the bed, “…little feud.”

He steers you back towards his bed. “If you want to relax, then I insist you stay here instead. My room is much more comfortable than yours. Besides, I just thought of something you can help me with.”

You sit on the edge of the bed and smile up at him. “Like apologizing to that poor demon lord you keep picking fights with?”

Asmo winks at you with a hint of a smirk, and he tugs at the belt holding his housecoat closed. “Maybe we can do that after.”

SATAN

Satan walks around the narrow pathways in his room, avoiding the fragile stacks of books that litter his floor. You sit on his bed and watch him anxiously, giving him the patience and time he needs to tell you what's bothering him. You're careful to give him space when he's in one of these moods; it was one of the stipulations you agreed to before he let you inside earlier.

"So, you were in the garden earlier with some of the stray cats, and Lucifer did...what, exactly?" You've been trying to piece together what happened between Satan and his brother earlier, but it's hard to make sense of his grumbled and disjointed complaints.

"He scared them away," Satan bites out angrily. "I wasn't even feeding them treats. I sprinkled some catnip for them. What's the problem with that?"

You know Lucifer complains about the stray cats that flock to the House of Lamentation if Satan feeds them when he's not supposed to. You know that Lucifer isn't a fan of cats in general. But, you also know that Lucifer wouldn't purposefully hurt any of the cats that make their way into the garden, and he's not usually this petty.

"Is it possible he thought you were feeding them? I don't think he would make such a big fuss if he knew you were only giving them catnip." Satan glances at you and you can tell he's not convinced by your explanation. "What if I go with you to talk to him?"

"Fuck him," Satan snarls as he keeps pacing in front of you, fists clenching open and closed at his sides.

Sigh. Maybe you can talk to Lucifer on your own. Things have been peaceful between them lately, and this is such a silly thing for them to be at odds over.

Satan watches you stand up from his bed with a defeated sigh. When you try to shuffle past him, he wraps his arms around you from behind and pulls you against his chest. There's a wave of warm energy around you, and you feel the familiar feathers of his true form against your back.

"You're not going to leave me to see him, are you?" his rough voice grates against your neck. "You should stay here."

"Tomorrow we're going to sort this out together," you tell him when you meet his gaze over your shoulder.

His hands on your hips tighten. "Fine. But tonight, you're mine."

LEVIATHAN

"I think there's something wrong with your Akuzon account."

Levi asked you to pre-order the Dogi Maji anniversary bundle on his tablet, but the Submit Order button is greyed out every time you try to purchase it for him.

"Huh?" Levi spins around at his desk. He was doing some dungeons with his guild and you've been waiting for him to finish so you could watch anime together.

You tap the screen a few more times and shrug. "I don't know, it won't let me order anything."

Levi opens the Akuzon site on his second monitor and he sputters when he realizes what the problem is. "Lucifer put parental controls on the account again! Why would he do that?"

Of course. You knew Lucifer was upset at Levi for what happened earlier this week, and somehow his threat of punishment completely slipped your mind. "Well, you did summon Lotan on the RAD campus again..." you offer hesitantly.

"That wasn't my fault!" Levi argues loudly. He wilts a bit under your skeptical stare. "Okay, it wasn't completely my fault. Mammon took my rare Ruri-chan capsule figurine and wouldn't give it back."

You rub the back of your neck. You want to be sympathetic, you really do, but you can't necessarily blame Lucifer for his reaction either - an entire floor of the building was unusable due to the flooding.

"You know how Lucifer is, he'll change it back in a few days and we can order the game then."

"But what if it sells out before then?!" he shouts in frustration. "Fuck Lucifer!"

Levi rarely raises his voice like this to you, and he deflates immediately after his little outburst. "Wait–wait–wait!" he stammers quickly, launching himself out of his computer chair and into the empty seat beside you on the sofa. He holds your hands in his and squeezes so tightly that you wince. "I didn't mean that," he says imploringly, and his eyes dart around your face like he's nervous you don't believe him.

You mistakenly assume he's trying to apologize for getting so angry, and you pull him into a hug. "I know," and he nods against your shoulder. "What if I go to Purgatory Hall and order the game using Solomon's account instead?"

Levi sniffles and practically drags you into his lap. "Maybe later," he mumbles against your chest, the game temporarily shoved aside so he can keep you to himself instead. "What do you want to watch first?"

MAMMON

You flick on the light switch in Mammon's room and glare at him in annoyance. You warned him last night not to stay too late at the casino, and here he is, sleeping well past his alarm. At some point he chucked his D.D.D. across the room and promptly went back to sleep.

Great, now you're both going to be late, but for some reason, Lucifer seems to think herding Mammon to class is your responsibility. Lover's perks, you guess sarcastically as you stomp over to where the Avatar of Greed is snoring under a pile of blankets. One of his feet is dangling over the edge of the bed, and if you had more time, maybe slow, torturous tickles would teach him a lesson. For now, you grab the edge of his blankets and rip them off him in one smooth motion.

His eyes are still closed while his hands search blindly for the blankets that are on the floor by your feet. He's only in his boxers so the sudden gust of cool air against his skin makes him shudder. You feel a bit of petty satisfaction as you kick the blankets away for good measure.

"'m tired, goin' back to sleep, babe," he mumbles sleepily.

Well, at least he knows it's you, even if he is half-asleep.

"We're going to be so late for class, and Lucifer's going to kill me. Or you. Or both of us!" You wonder why Lucifer would send you to wake up Mammon, when his own threats of dangling him from the ceiling would probably be more effective. You guess waking Mammon up is meant to be your punishment for choosing to be with him of all demons in the first place.

Mammon groans and rolls over so you can't see him, but you can tell he's half-buried in his pillow when he grumbles, "Fuck 'em."

You throw up your hands and spin on your heel. "Fine, be that way," you snap. Your mood's already sour, and Lucifer's pestering and Mammon being himself isn't helping.

You should have enough time to grab something to eat and make it to class on time if you leave now. What you don't expect is for Mammon to not only get out of bed, but to somehow make it to the doorway before you do.

Damn, he's fast.

He's panting heavily and his eyes are clear now, his razor-sharp focus trained on you. You bump into his bare chest because you don't expect him to block your path. You open your mouth to ask what he's doing, but he leans forward and gives you a sloppy kiss instead. There's something almost desperate in the way his hands cradle your jaw and he drags his lips away from your mouth and dusts your cheeks and brow with feathery-soft kisses too.

"'m sorry," he mumbles, pulling you against him in a tight hug, "Wait for me while I get ready, yeah? Just, don’t–don’t leave. I’ll make it up to ya later, promise.”

LUCIFER

Lucifer pauses outside your bedroom door when he realizes you're speaking to someone on the phone. His brothers are all studying in their rooms - or they should be, same as you. He wonders who could possibly be so interesting that you're ignoring your studies to talk to them instead.

He assumes it's Solomon or Simeon, and he can't decide which of those two options is worse. Not that he cares, of course.

Even through the door, he can hear you clearly. He feels the slightest sense of guilt when he recognizes the tired, sad tone in your voice. Some of his brothers failed the last set of exams, and perhaps he was too strict with you considering your own scores were satisfactory - excellent even, in some classes. He knows that you've been ignoring your extracurriculars and hobbies to focus on studying so you don't disappoint him like his siblings do.

He catches the tail-end of your conversation and decides it's definitely Solomon on the other line if you're being invited to human world outings.

"...yeah, I heard that movie is in theatres now too. I think it looks good, but I'm too busy with–look, maybe once exams are over we can go see it, okay? I think Satan might like to see it too...uh huh...alright, you too. G'night."

Silence follows, and before Lucifer can knock on your door, he hears you sigh and mutter quietly, "Ugh, these stupid exams. Fuck Lucifer."

Well, there's a thought, isn't it? He was going to offer to take you to Madam Scream's to pick up some of those cupcakes you like. He considers it for only a split second and decides he likes your idea even more. His lips curl into a feral smirk, and he knocks once before letting himself inside.

"Huh? Oh, hi, Lucifer. I'm just going to..." but your voice tapers off. Whatever you were going to say dies in your throat when he leans against your door and slides the lock into place.

"I missed you," he murmurs, a surprisingly honest (and to you, completely random) confession that causes your cheeks to darken slightly. You swallow thickly and stare when he brings his hand to his mouth and pulls his glove off with his fucking teeth. "I think you deserve a little reward for all your hard work, hm?"

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inkwolvesandcoffee · 22 days

Text

Imagine meeting retired!Price on a group trip to Japan.

Inspired by my own upcoming trip.

CoD ML

At first you don’t know you’re part of the same group. For all you know and care, you’re simply two strangers seated next to each other on the plane to Osaka.

Few words are shared between you during the flight. However, it’s anything but awkward because the tall stranger with enchanting blue eyes shows himself quite the gentleman minutes after your shallow acquaintance.

John stands up from his seat as soon as you point out yours is by the window and blocks the pathway with his imposing frame. “Sorry,” you mumble while trying to settle in as fast as you can, self-conscious about the others waiting to get to their seat.

“Take your time, miss. I’ll wait.” There’s a silent warning in his words to the others behind him, daring them to defy him or show annoyance.

“Want me to pop that in the cubbie?” he asks when he sees you struggle with where to put your jacket.

“No. Thank you, I mean, but-“

He extends a hand, which oddly reminds you of a bear’s paw. “Don’t be silly.”

His fingers briefly brush yours when you hand him your jacket. Perhaps to calm you, to assure you he really doesn’t mind. Perhaps it’s just an accidental touch.

John’s travel outfit of choice is a pair of baggy cargo pants, army green jacket, and grey teddy fabric hoodie.

John reads most of the flight away, oblivious to how his glasses make you feel. Like, seriously, how do they make him even more distractingly handsome than he already is?!

As the hours pass by, slipping into the night, you decide to try and catch some shut eye. The stranger next to you has already accomplished your ultimate goal, slouched a little in his seat and vast asleep. He’s pulled his hood up, face half-hidden by the fabric, and crossed his arms. Such a lucky bastard.

He doesn’t mind you lean on him after falling asleep yourself after the necessary struggles. In fact, unbeknownst to you, John manoeuvred your head to rest on his shoulder. He even considered draping his jacket over you, strangely affected by the way he briefly saw you shiver.

When one of the flight attendants kindly wakes John up for breakfast, it takes every ounce of self-control to not let instinct take over and kiss you on the temple to wake you up. However, where he manages to restrain himself, he looses control otherwise.

One hand on your arm, he tries to wake you. “Sweetheart, wake up. Breakfast’s ready.”

You only curl up more into him, clutching his arm like your favourite stuffed animal. So he uses a little force and gently shakes you. “C’mon, darling. Ya need to eat.”

It shouldn’t affect him this much. You shouldn’t have this effect on him. Yet, there’s a prideful warmth in his chest when your drowsy eyes fall on him, delighted he’s the first thing you see as you regain consciousness. But the tender sentiment mingles with the inklings of lust he hasn’t been able to shake off, manifest in the painful hardness in his pants. Fortunately, the blanket in his lap hides it well.

It’s only at Kansai Airport you each discover the other’s identity.

“Wait, you’re part of the group?” Gobsmacked, you gawk at him. The last thing you had expected was to be ‘stuck’ with the stranger for the coming two weeks. Such a cruel fate.

“So it seems,” the man mumbles before he takes your hand, raises it to his lips, and kisses your knuckles. “John Price, miss. At your service.”

Naturally assumes the role of your guardian. Of course he allows you your freedom to go and do your own thing. After all, he’s only a travel companion, a vague acquaintance, to you. Someone you only see when the whole group is together. And despite his natural confidence, John isn’t so sure you’d want him with you.

But the uncertainty proves unnecessary soon.

You go from holding his arm to holding his hand fairly quickly, standing closer to him every day. What also helps the growing craving for his presence is how he always sits next to you on the Shinkansen. During the journey, you share the food you bought before boarding (which you later buy together for a planned lunch on the train). Or you go over the photos you made or hidden gems you found in absence of the other.

Or you sit in silence, leaning on each other while reading.

You two more often than not go off by yourselves. The first few days you share stories over group dinner, but soon go adventuring together.

When you do, of course there are compromises when it comes to what to do and see. Fortunately, John is willing to pop into every Pokémon Center you come across. He knows nothing about the franchise, but your enthusiasm and the nostalgia you harbour for it melts his heart. And despite forgetting the creature’s names as soon as you mention them, he makes a mental note you seem to have a special affinity for something called an ‘Eevee’, an ‘Arcanine’, and two wolves. One carries a sword around, firmly wedged between its maws (Zacian). The other is decked out in shields (Zamazenta).

John finds it adorable how you snuggle with an Eevee plushie at one of the big Pokémon centers. However, he’s seen how much you’ve bought already. “That still gonna fit in your suitcase, sweetheart?”

“Surely with a bit of rearranging it will.”

He sighs, not believing what he’s about to do. Damn those feelings he can’t seem to suppress despite his best efforts. “I’ll pay. And if it doesn’t fit, there’ll be plenty space in my suitcase.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes,” he answers matter of fact, already counting the yen in his wallet. “How much is it?”

In return for his many kindnesses, you accompany him on the hunt for as many Eki stamps as possible. Whereas you expected a bit of a wild goose chase, John has actually meticulously planned out a route so you don’t haphazardly go to and fro across the country.

He insists on paying for any food and drink on the way. After all, he’s the one low-key dragging you along so he might as well make it beneficial to you.

Little does he know you don’t mind.

That his company is plenty reason to go with him.

John is a foodie and loves exploring the Japanese food scene with you. Bakeries, cafés, sushi restaurants, food stalls. You name it, he’s in.

Loves buying a bunch of food you can try in the privacy of either of your hotel rooms. He’ll brew a cup of tea to have with it and if the food doesn’t make too much of a mess, you snuggle up on the bed to enjoy it while watching a show or movie on Netflix (either on his laptop or your tablet).

Loves the occasional midnight ramen moment with you.

Though he mostly loves the mornings after your visits, which has ended yet again by sleeping in each other’s beds or futons (depending on where you’re staying). Every time the both of you tell yourselves you’ll leave, go back to your own room to hit the hay.

But what better way to wake up than in sturdy warm arms?

Have someone snuggled up to you instead of opening your eyes to an empty space?

Seems those Liverpool nights have finally come to an end.

Although John’s a bit hesitant, you manage to convince him to start an Instagram together to document the trip. It doesn’t take long for people to start commenting on the photos of you two together or react to John’s captions on the photos he posts of you. And those are a lot in comparison to those you post of him.

You make such a cute couple!

Are you two together?

Relationship goals!

Ugh, would love me a man like that.

Handsome!😍

But there are also the negative comments, which mostly concerns the age gap between you two. He deletes them as soon as he can, but you know he’s read them and that simple repeated act has made them eat away at him. It’s hard, dealing with online hate, and John honestly wonders how you do it. You’re flattered he gets angry, furious even, on your behalf when there’s any negativity aimed at you. However, you know it’s pointless, spending energy on the opinion of others. So whenever he’s on the verge of going ballistic, you put your hand on his arm and pluck his phone out of his bear paw. “Let’s put that away for now, hm?”

Words can’t describe how grateful John is whenever you do that. But they can explain his growing affection for you.

Perhaps, at long last, he’s falling in love.

One night, at about two in the morning, he shows up at the door of your hotel room. Your drowsiness fades into concern when you notice his sickly complexion, it’s paleness highlighted by the shimmer of sweat coating his skin. “Thank God you’re still alive.”

“John, you alright?” The dullness in his otherwise sparkling blue eyes is haunting, more worrisome as the dusk makes them look emptier.

“You can rely on me, okay?” His voice cracks. “That’s an order.”

“Okay.”

“So don’t go bloody wandering off by yourself. We’re a team. One unit.”

“Okay,” you repeat. “Come inside.”

He doesn’t budge as you lightly tug his arm. “It’s safe.”

“Right.”

He lets you lead him to the bed, where you plop him down. Judging by how light he feels, easy to guide, you can tell he’s not here entirely. “Stay here tonight.”

“I have to save him.”

“Who?”

“Soap. I- I have… have… had… couldn’t. I couldn’t fucking save him.”

“John, I’m sure you did what you could.” In spite of not knowing what he’s on about, you wrap him in your arms to console him. His fingers dig painfully into your skin, clinging to you for dear life. “I’m a failure. We should’ve made it out alive. The whole unit. Not just-“

“Shh, you did what you could.”

“I- I should’ve- What if I can’t do the same for you?”

“It’s alright. I’m here, alive. As are you.”

“Yeah… alive.” His breathing starts to even out. “With me. Together.”

You manoeuvre yourself beneath the sheets, careful to not escape his touch and thus take away his comfort. After a bit of a hassle, you end up with John snuggled up to you and your fingers in his hair. Finally you feel him relax and settle. Into the bed, your embrace.

Your presence.

His anchor.

Come morning, the tables have turned and now it’s you snuggled up to him and his warm sturdy arms wrapped around your body.

Neither of you thinks it strange. After all, you’ve grown accustomed to each other’s company. So it’s nothing but natural to feel his fingers caress your cheek. Perhaps to wake you, perhaps a gesture of tender admiration. Whatever the case, it’s a nice way to wake up.

“Hey,” John murmurs.

“Hey,” you repeat, equally as drowsy. “Sleep well?”

He rests his forehead against yours. “Thanks to you.”

“You snore, though.”

“Do I?”

“Like a grizzly bear.”

“Well, you ain’t wrong. Then again, I’m your beartleman.”

You groan. “No puns this early, please.”

“Sorry.” Tracing your features, he gathers the courage to start the conversation he loathes having. He is a capable man, a leader, level-headed and determined.

Most of the time.

Because he also knows he’s damaged goods. The fact he’s here in bed with you tells him he wasn’t lucid dreaming or, rather, hallucinating. He showed up at your door.

Holding out his broken pieces to you, wilfully ignorant of the fact you don’t know how to put them together.

“Y/N, about last night…”

“John, don’t apologise. It’s alright.”

“I was a bit much, wasn’t I?” He remarks, trying to play it off.

“Do you get those types of attacks often?”

“Not a lot. Thought I was over them, but apparently not.”

“Were you in the army?”

“I was. SAS. Captain Price.” A dark chuckle leaves his lips, full of the stories he won’t tell. Not yet. “Once upon a time.”

“Got dismissed?”

“Of my own volition. Officially I’m retired, earlier than I thought or would’ve liked.“

“But?”

“But there are only so many ghosts a man can allow himself to be haunted by. So much he can bear before he goes insane.”

But fortunately you are here now, to dispel the worst of his ghosts.

And he’ll dispel the yokai hiding around you.

#John Price #CoD x Reader #John Price x Reader #Captain John Price #CoD MW Price #CoD MW #CoD #Call of Duty

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slut4teyam · 1 year

Note

Hi! If your not currently working on anything I was wondering if u were open to writing neteyam smut. Like neteyam being jealous that reader is getting close w aonung and fucking her??

"Jealous hm?"

(Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan x F!Omaticaya Reader)

minors dni!

Genre: slight angst, mainly smut, some fluff at the end

Warnings: dom!neteyam, jealous neteyam, swearing, dirty talk, teasing, overstimulation, fingering, breast play, dry humping, orgasm control, p in v, size warning (please tell me if theres any i've missed!)

Backstory: The Sully's and y/n's parents, Olo'eyktan and Tsahìk of another Omaticaya clan have been friends for a long time, long before any of their childrens births. When y/n's father learnt that the Sully's were fleeing to the Metkayina clan for uturu, he wanted her daughter to leave with them and explore Pandora. Y/n has currently been living with the Sully's in Awa'atlu for 4 years, befriending the chiefs son and daughter, Aonung and Tsireya, as well as becoming closer with the Sully's. Throughout the years, she has gained a romantic attraction, recently backed up with a more sexual attraction towards the Sully's eldest son, Neteyam. Neteyam feels the same way, therefore most of the time they act very flirty and touchy with each other, while he still tries to keep himself under somewhat control. He, however loses it when he sees Aonung, who seems to be gaining feelings towards y/n become closer to her than he approves of.

Neteyam and Reader are aged up to 19+ years old!! (Other characters except for Tuk too! Tuk is 12 here, don't be weird)

"how much longer y/n?"

Aonung's head was laying on your lap as you braided his hair, one by one. He wanted a new hairstyle, where all of his hair was braided and set loose, he'd gotten bored of his usual bun apparently. At least that was his excuse, he knew very well that his only reason for this sudden want of changing hairstyles was so you'd play with his hair.

"i'm almost done, just a couple of strands left. be slightly more patient, it will be over before you know it!" you chuckled as you replied. Eywa, he was like a baby crying non-stop to be fed. You found it somewhat entertaining though, thats the only reason you've been able to stand him, unlike the Sully kids.

He had practically BEGGED you to braid his hair, and was now whining about it. It was true, he had really wanted you to braid his hair, and although your hands tugging on his hair felt nice, he hadn't thought of the patience part of things that was showing to be necessary. He couldn't wait to show off his new hair though, and proudly showcase the fact that you had braided it. Oh, to see the facial expression of the eldest Sully son, Neteyam, who obviously had feelings towards you. He smirked at the thought.

"what's got you smirking like that, ao?" you ask while finishing up the last braid on his hair. Your fingers felt numb at this point, and your back hurt from sitting up straight for so long.

His smirk disappeared as y/n spoke, reminding him of her presence, which led to his dreading truth that y/n obviously had feelings for Neteyam too. Strong ones. He had seen the way you looked at him, the way he made you laugh, and the lustful tension between the two of you that was too obvious to not be noticed. Aonung had feelings for you too, but it got overpowered with the fact that his closeness with you was creating an unspoken rivalry between him and Neteyam. Aonung knew Neteyam was keeping in control, but that he would lose it soon.

"nothing, just imagining the reactions to my new hairstyle." Aonung played it off, his smirk coming back to place.

You let go of his hair as you finished. Aonung stood up and ran out of his Marui, in which you had been braiding his hair in. You chuckled at his excitement, and followed him out. He smiled as he saw his reflection on the water, turning his head around to see his new hairstyle from different angles while leaning over the dock.

"Well, you like it?" you asked smiling, knowing you'd beat him up if his answer was a no. He startled you in a hug before you knew it.

"I can't wait to show this off." he said, still hugging you.

You hugged him back, chuckling as you replied "I take that as a thank you." Your back stretched as Aonung was hugging you, and it felt so good you held yourself from a light moan. Your mind flew to the Sully's eldest son, like it always did when you had a somewhat sexual thought, which made you pull back from the hug quickly. With the thought of Neteyam, you realized that the sun was about to start setting, and that you were late for your friend groups meeting.

"Lets go meet the others, I think we're late anyways!" you said as you lead the way.

slight time skip

You and Aonung walked closely to your friend groups meeting spot, by the shore. They came into view, as Tsireya spotted your presence and called the both of you over. Everyones attention turned to the two of you, clearly not expecting a change in Aonungs hairstyle, as you got closer. You noticed a certain individual glaring at you, obviously not pleased. You felt your stomach fill with butterflies and your legs go weak, just with the glares of the Sully's eldest son. You made eye contact, but you quickly looked away as his eyes were too fierce to look at, even though his glare never stopped burning through your skin. Fuck, it was hot. Tsireya stood up and walked towards her brother to interpret his new hair.

"Why the sudden change?" she chuckled, "it looks amazing but- unexpected."

"Yo, nice hair" stated Lo'ak, as Rotxo nodded in agreement. Kiri slightly chuckled, and Tuk curiously asked "Who braided it? I want them to braid my hair too! It's getting messy with all the water!".

Tsireya went back to her seat while you and Aonung sat down. You smiled at Tuks indirect compliment, as Aonung replied "Y/n actually. We've been together all morning," he stared back at the continuous glaring eyes of Neteyam before saying "her hands have been all over my hair for the past five hours."

Neteyams glare changed- not in a better way. His eyes filled with anger, as he glared at Aonung, this time with more deadly eyes and flared nostrils. Aonung smirked at him while glaring back, which made the tension grow more aggressive. You felt the need to stop it before it turned into something they'll both regret-

"Anyone up for an Ilu race?" Rotxo brought up, grabbing the attention and breaking the obvious glaring contest between the two Na'vi males. EYWA THANK YOU ROTXO.

"Me!" Tuk said, which made everyone else stand up and prepare to call for their Ilu's. You realized before calling your Ilu that you came unprepared, completely forgetting your Ilu gear whilst rushing with Aonung.

"Hey guys, I forgot my Ilu gear back at the pod, start without me! I'll be right back." you said as everyone turned their attention to you for a slight moment, nodded, and you took your leave back to your Marui.

You were taking the longer road through the "forest" of Awa'atlu back to your Marui. You lowkey didn't want to be a part of the Ilu race, as your back and hands still hurt from braiding Aonungs hair all day long. This road reminded you of your home, the forest, and thats why you loved it. It was starting to get a bit dark. 'How fast?' you thought as you took a deep breath before-

You were pinned against a tree, with a tall, Omaticaya male standing in front of you. Neteyam. His right arm was next to your head, and he had a frown on his face, with furious eyes staring into your confused ones. Eywa, he looked so sexy. Pinning you against a tree with his tall, toned body, looking down at you. It made you want him, no. It made you need him. You shut your legs together, hoping to ease the desire that shot down between your thighs. It just made you want him more.

"What are you trying to do? Hm?" Neteyam asked quietly with his deep voice sounding raspy. His tone was demanding, and oh Eywa, it was so hot. He was looking into your eyes with the same feeling as before; furious.

"What do you mean?" you replied, breaking eye contact as you desperately tried to ignore the desire coming from between your thighs.

He turned his head away from you, smiled in an annoying matter, and turned back to you with a stronger glare. "This thing with Aonung. You talk to him, become friends with him, but now you're getting very close to the point where your hands are all over his hair all day? I can't control myself anymore."

Fuck. The possessiveness of his tone, and his self control was so sexy. The fact that he was losing it over you got you soaking wet, but also gave you a tint of confidence as you realized your power over the warrior. A smirk appeared on your face as you placed your hands over his chest, very slowly roaming them towards his abs. You looked back into his eyes.

"Jealous hm?" you asked in a seductive tone. You felt him tense at the parts of his body that you've touched, and you sensed hitching in his breath, even though he kept it under control well. He leaned in closer to your face, inches in between the both of you, while holding your waist with his left hand. It was dark know, which grew the tension in between the two of you more lustful.

"Fuck yeah I'm jealous. How long are we going to continue ignoring this 'thing' between us? Because I'd rather fuck you right here, right now, and loose all of my self discipline if it means you'll never roam your hands through his hair again." he stated in his deep, raspy voice. You needed him so bad.

"Fuck Neteyam just fuck me already" you said in a breathy voice, as you attacked his lips, not being able to stand the heat between your legs anymore. You needed him down there, whether it was his hands, mouth, or dick, you just needed him. His eyes widened and ears shot up from your sudden comment.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he kissed you back, now holding your waist with both of his huge hands. His long fingers. Eywa. He walked closer to you, making his lower body and torso meet with your pinned body. Your arms were still wrapped around his neck as your hands played with his hair. 'Who's hair are her hands all over now hm?' Neteyam thought. He was roaming his hands up and down your torso, unsynchronized with one another. One hand touching just below your breasts as the other one tugged on your loincloth.

He bit your lower lip, which made your mouth open into a slight whine. He took the opportunity and slid his tongue into your mouth, completely dominating it over yours. You were full on making out, and every bit of it was perfect. His huge hands roaming around your torso while you tugged on his hair, as his tongue dominated over yours. You wanted more.

With a swift move, you were turned around, your back now against Neteyam. You were sandwiched between him and the tree, so your head turned to your right. Your hips were currently in perfect alignment with his, as you could feel his growing bulge on your ass. His right hand was on your upper thigh, as his left remained on your waist. Both of you were heavily panting from your discontinued make out session, but you knew this was far from the end. He slightly dry humped you, his bulge growing bigger every move.

"I've thought about you on my dick so many times, thought of being in you every night." he commented with his raspy voice, while his hands still roamed around your torso, getting closer to your inner thighs every move. His face was in the nape of your neck, you could feel his hot breath hit your skin.

"Mhm.. me too" you managed to agree, as you placed your hands over his and finally led them in between your upper thighs "...especially here" you gasped, eyes shutting closed as you touched yourself over your loincloth with Neteyams fingers. Your loincloth was soaked, and you were sure Neteyam felt it. You heard Neteyam whisper fuck as he dry humped you once again, which made your mouth open wider. He led both of his hands to untie your loincloth and you helped him with it. Once your loincloth was off, he led his right hand to your soaking cunt as his left remained on your waist.

"So wet for me," he said as his index finger slid on your clit. "...or are you wet for that skxawng you've had your hands all over today?" it was enough to feel the anger and jealousy in his voice from his breathing, if not from his tone.

You were about to reply when he suddenly stuck a finger up your entrance, making you moan. With every thrust, his speed got gradually faster, leading moan-like-whimpers to leave your mouth.

"Am I making you feel good? Hm?" Neteyam asked, still thrusting his finger in a gradually increasing speed. You nod, but moan as he adds another finger in.

"Use your words baby, are my fingers fucking you good?" he asked, demanding a verbal answer once again. "Yes! Fuck yes!" you intended on screaming out, but it came in a rather breathy voice with your constant panting.

"Good. Because that skxawng you've been with all day can't make you feel good like I do." he spitted out, thrusting his long fingers into you deeper now, reaching your G-spot. You were about to cum, just a few more deep thrust and you'd release all over his fingers.

"Keep going 'teyam, I'm going to cum-ah" you moaned as you felt your climax approaching closer than ever, just a few more thrusts and- he stops. "Neteyam!" you scream, slapping his arm.

"Not yet baby, you need to deserve it." He removes his fingers from your aching lips, turning you towards him once again and pinning your back to the tree. His hands roamed up from your waist to your breasts, removing your somewhat revealing top in a quick move. You were now completely naked in front of him, and he couldn't take his eyes off of your body. He quickly attacked your right breast with his mouth, sucking and licking your nipple with his skilled tongue. Your back arched, leading you to let out a moan because of your back pain, when he touched your left breast with his long fingers, playing with your nipple.

"You're so fucking hot Neteyam" you managed to moan out, with your mouth wide open and eyes shut. You were playing with his hair, slightly tugging it harder every time he squeezed your nipple with his hand. He switched to your left breast, now sucking and licking on it to create equal stimulation. Your thoughts were all over the place, you couldn't think straight. After one last lick, he came back to tower over you, with a string of saliva still attached to your now swollen breasts.

His left hand remained on your waist, as he began to untie his loincloth with his right. "You still wanna cum?" he said as he slipped his loincloth off, revealing his... 14 incher.

You nodded extravagantly while gulping at the sight of Neteyams huge erect cock, already dripping with pre-cum. You clenched your thighs together without taking your eyes off of him. He notices and smirks, reopening up your thighs with his right hand as he pumps his cock a couple of times with his left. "Good girl."

He lifts you up by your hips, your arms wrapping around his neck, and your legs tangling his waist as he places the tip of his cock on your entrance. He leans you towards the tree, sandwiching you once more.

"How much do you want this?" he asks as a form of asking for consent, even though both of you already knew the answer.

"I want it so bad, I need it in me, please 'teyam, fuck me already." you say as he slams his cock into your soaking cunt without another word. His hands are on your hips, holding you still so that he can pound into you relentlessly, and you scream out a moan every thrust in. "Fuck, y/n you feel so good. So tight around my cock, you feel amazing." Neteyam growls out, which makes you scream out his name as he thrusts in deeper.

"Thats right, scream out my name, just like that baby. Let that skxawng hear who's making you feel so good right now." he says with his deep, raspy voice, accompanied by panting and noises of skin slapping. Your eyes roll back along with your head, and you rest it on the trunk of the tree. Neteyams lips meet your now open neck, sucking and licking all over your sweet spots.

"Gonna mark you as mine all over baby, you're mine and I'm gonna make it show." he breathes out as he leaves multiple hickeys on your neck. You tug lightly on his hair with every thrust, which turns him on even more. You bite your lower lip as you feel your previous orgasm resurfacing, now stronger than ever. This time you'd do anything to release.

"N-Neteyam I'm going to cum, please let me cum this time" you manage to speak, your panting getting in your way. He feels his orgasm come close too, and every single tug on his hair, every voice that comes out of your pretty mouth takes him even closer.

"Who do you belong to baby," he asks, leaning into your ear while demanding an answer. His thrusts never stop, but the speed never changes either. You need him to be faster. "Y-you, I belong to you sir" you manage to pant out. His grip on your hips get tighter, as he smirks against your ear on the nickname. Eywa, it turns him on so much. "Who's making you feel so good right now?" he asks, demanding an answer once again. "You are Neteyam! Only you!" you scream, not being able to handle the sensation of not being able to cum anymore. "Can that skxawng ever fuck you like this? Make you feel good like I do?" he asks, now wanting to cum as well. "Fuck, he can't! Only you can make me feel good Neteyam!" you scream out, followed by a loud moan as he speeds up and thrusts even deeper, right onto your spot. Your walls clench around his massive cock. "Fuck princess, so good tightening around me like that, fuck I'm coming." Neteyam hisses as his thrusts become sloppier, "Me too Nete, I'm coming!" you moan out. Neteyam thrusts in faster as your walls release and his cock twitches, the both of you release at the same time.

He cums inside of you, his eyes are closed and his mouth is open, feeling his cock relax with every shoot of his cum in you. Both of you are panting extremely heavily, you smile cheekily before placing kisses all over Neteyams temple. "Are you okay?" he asks, looking at you while still heavily breathing. "Yeah, I'm very good." you reply heavily breathing as well. A smile appears on his mouth as he nods, kisses your cheek, and slowly begins to pull out of you.

Your legs feel sore and weak when he places you down. If he wasn't supporting you from your waist, you were sure you'd have fallen down. "Can you walk?" Neteyam asks, with a genuinely caring look on his face. "I don't think so" you chuckle nervously. He slowly places you to sit on the floor, as he takes both of your loincloths and your top, dressing himself before dressing you up. "Let's go get cleaned up" Neteyam says while picking you up bridal style and walking you through the forest, to a more private area of the shore. He undresses you, slowly and gently cleaning you up while constantly asking "Are you okay?", in which you keep answering with "Yes, I'm fine don't worry." He cleans himself up shortly after.

slight time skip

You were laying down on top of Neteyam, your head on his chest as his arms wrapped around you. You were watching the stars, on the same shore that he had brought the both of you to get cleaned up at. "Neteyam" you decided to say, breaking the ongoing silence. "Yes y/n?" he replied. You took a deep breath before answering, "Its just- I never liked Aonung, and I never will. For the past years, you're the only one I've ever wanted." you managed to speak out, the words flowing smoothly. You felt Neteyams chest rise and fall down as he took a deep breath as well. “I've always loved you, y/n. Seeing you get close to someone who's only been in your life for so little made me so jealous." he spoke softly, with a gentle tone. You smiled at his words as you looked up at him. He plopped on his elbows as you leaned in to kiss him. He kissed you back, not in a sexual way, but rather in a more passionate way, a more loving way. You both smiled as you pulled away.

"Oel ngatti kameie, Neteyam" you said softly, looking into his eyes.

"Oel ngatti kameie, y/n" Neteyam returns, with the same soft smile plastered on his lips again. You both return to your old position, falling asleep under the stars.

the next day, at the friend group meeting, beginning of sun set

Tsireya, Lo'ak, and Tuk stood close to the water, as they played with Tsireyas Ilu. Aonung and Rotxo were joking around like usual, laughing. Kiri was laying down, smiling as she sensed the ocean breeze and wave crashing sounds.

"Hi guys!" you spoke, as you and Neteyam came to your friend group meeting spot by the shore, hands intertwined together. You and Neteyam sat down as Neteyam pulled you closer to him by your waist, kissing your hair. Everyone turned their attention to the both of you, as they came to sit in a circle. Aonungs laughing face turned into a serious one, noticing not only your combined hands with Neteyam, but also the hickeys on your neck. Tsireya and Lo'ak looked at each other smirking, before turning their gazes away. Kiri rolled her eyes as Rotxo looked at her with the cheekiest smirk ever. Tuk was just in awe of the new couple. Lo'ak decided to be the first to speak, "Looks like you two had some fun."

Tsireya slapped his arm but he just chuckled and went in to peck a kiss on her lips. You were always in awe of their romance, theirs was love at first sight. You blush at Lo'aks comment, and look down.

"We did," Neteyam confirmed, looking at his brother before switching his smirking gaze to a certain frowning Metkayina male.

"Her hands have been all over me last night."

"Ooooofff, big brother coming in with the hit!" Lo'ak chuckled, making Tsireya cover her upcoming chuckle with her hands. “Gross!" Tuk added, making everyone, including you laugh.

omgg first request <33 tysmm

I look forward to more of your story ideas, feel free to request!

Until next time,

-dero

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shirefantasies · 3 months

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Hi!! I just found your blog and I love the way you write your headcanons! I was wondering if there's anyway you could write how each of the company in the hobbit would cuddle? or how they'd show physical affection? If not, that's fine, just thought I'd ask! (sorry if this is a bit weirdly worded I don't actually request things often lol, I've just been in such a the hobbit mood and found your blog and loved it immediately.)

Thank you sweetie and I'm so glad you love my headcanons 🥰 but this imagine YUS YUS YUS!!! My Hobbit mood has been coming in big ol waves of late heck yeah 🫡

Thorin’s Company + Physical Affection

Balin

✧ If you fall and he catches you, you may notice the way his hands wind around your waist and keep you for just a moment longer than absolutely necessary.

✧ Always the one who does your fastens for you and helps you into your coat, lingering touches therein as well.

✧ Sometimes his hand will just creep over as he listens to you, taking yours and drawing encouraging circles upon the back of it.

✧ Pulls you closer into his chest in the cold, whispering that it's alright, don't be shy as you melt into him.

✧ Almost always at your side with a hand placed gently but firmly upon your shoulder, half guiding, half guarding.

Dwalin

✧ This guy...is not very physically affectionate. You're going to have to coax it out of him like a stray cat.

✧ He enjoys sparring with you if you're down and you may notice he prefers pinning you or wrestling you down to, say, literally any other member of the company, but that feels like something beyond affection...

✧ "Are you hurt? Let me see." For the strength of his hands, he cradles your head, your arm, whatever it may be, so gently and warmly.

✧ Acts exasperated when you show up at his side to cuddle, accepts only “because it’s so cold, I suppose it’d be right”, then wraps his arms around you and holds you against his chest as tight as he can.

✧ Seated at a table, Dwalin will keep an arm draped over the back of your chair at all times.

Thorin

✧ His hands go to you first after any sort of danger, holding you back initially then laying a hand on your shoulder as he checks you over, ensuring no harm came to you.

✧ Asks for your hand, taking it in his when your travels get difficult so as to lead you along the safest path he can find.

✧ Wraps you up in his coat, his hands sliding down your arms after he drapes it upon you, staying like that for a moment with his chest to your back.

✧ Big spoon. That feeling of care, of presiding over your warmth and safety and everything Thorin can give absolutely translates to your sleep, your solace. It means the world to him if he can be your comfort.

✧ Even in idle times, Thorin tends to stand with a hand wrapped around your waist, not grasping you tightly or restricting you in any way, but simply enough to keep you near and make it clear that you are his.

Oin

✧ Offering massages is basically a love language for him. The others are always asking him and sometimes he gets annoyed or just does it grudgingly, but when it is you? He takes his time, uses your favorite oils, savors the connection between you two and your hums of pleasure.

✧ Oin loves asking you for help just as an excuse to have you near, your hands darting beneath his to grab supplies or holding down his work, his own coming to cover yours as often as he can spare them.

✧ In the moments you get to sit next to each other, his hand will gingerly rest over yours. If you tense up at all, you can feel his grip tighten just a little bit, giving you a reassuring squeeze.

✧ Likes loose cuddling, simply your arms draped over his side as you rest alongside each other. Also not-so-secretly enjoys being the little spoon- indulge him every now and again!

✧ Has been known to give your cheeks the occasional affectionate pinch or squeeze, just smiling and chuckling giddily to himself at the sight of you before he leans in for a kiss.

Gloin

✧ Always fussing over your hair, whether it's getting things out of it or even knowing its entire care routine and performing it for you if you let him, his hands dressing it practically reverently.

✧ Gets bored, forgets himself and plays with your hands. If you wear rings, he probably slides those around or spins them a bit. He enjoys intertwining your fingers again and again and keeping both of your hands in his as he peers at you.

✧ When simply standing around, he sometimes will stand behind you and drape his arms over your shoulders as if claiming you.

✧ Will practically wrestle you into position if you try to make him little spoon. You have to get him tired enough before he’ll accept not being the one to hold you.

✧ Grabs you up into the biggest, bone-crushing in the best of ways, bear hugs you've ever had the pleasure of being swept into.

Bifur

✧ Speech can be so difficult, the feeling of trying without success so frustrating that a meaningful touch is simpler and infinitely more calming. A favorite of his is a simple hand on the shoulder, a gesture of care.

✧ He also loves teasingly elbowing you to get your attention, whether it's to show you something or just to say hello!

✧ Tracing each and every line and curvature of your face is his guilty pleasure; it is as though he is at work silently memorizing your every feature.

✧ Looser with cuddling, the feeling sometimes suffocating, especially if he has a nightmare. Rather than cage you in or be caged in, Bifur prefers the simple feeling of your hand upon his chest or your head leaned against his while you sleep.

✧ Absolutely loves decorating you, feeling like an attendant to royalty as he slides rings onto your finger, bracelets and necklaces he made around your neck or wrist. Such moments are some of the most tender between you, the way he looks at you afterward and the way his hands caress you after each beauty is set to magnifying yours.

Bofur

✧ Has a little habit of just taking your hand and twirling you when you stand together, almost as if you're dancing in place.

✧ When you truly are dancing, you know Bofur will be dipping you down for a kiss nearly every time!

✧ Cuddling is all over the place. Snakes his arms around you and pulls you into his lap when he’s feeling particularly merry. Lays facing you before sleep, your legs tangled together in the most wonderful mess.

✧ Bofur has this little habit of falling onto you when you’re laughing together, playfully shoving you before his hands fall into your lap or grab your knee.

✧ Hugs from Bofur often turn into him picking you up and spinning you around!

Bombur

✧ As I've mentioned, he is the best with a partner who has anxiety, basically becoming a living weighted blanket atop you.

✧ Though shy and subtle he can be with his initial affections, Bombur is very cuddly. The greatest cuddler, in fact. Your shared bedroll is the coziest one of the whole lot.

✧ Has been known to, upon being in a bolder mood, turn his head when you lean to kiss his cheek, capturing your lips instead! Has the biggest smile upon success, so you can never be upset.

✧ Pulls you into a hug the moment you say or do something cute.

✧ Great acts of service fellow as he is, Bombur will often offer things like scratching your back or rubbing tension from your neck as a means of getting closer while still providing for you.

Dori

✧ Small, subtle touches, like letting his hands cover yours when you accept the steaming mug of tea he hands you.

✧ He also loves running a thumb over the back of your hand when you sit side by side, sharing that one point of connection between you two.

✧ Always does a cute little tap to your knee after he laces up your boots for you, a little wink topping the endearing gesture off.

✧ The type who loves to lay with your heads against each other, cheeks brushing, especially as you look at the stars, discussing everything beneath the sun and very well likely some things not beneath it at all.

✧ Shocks you when you sit at a table and you feel his hand on your knee, and again when it moves up and down, tracing a little pattern on your thigh.

Nori

✧ I still maintain that Nori would be the main perpetrator of the classic yawning or stretching as an excuse to put an arm around you. Once you're pulled in, though? Good luck getting back out! You are nothing if not secure in his grasp.

✧ Cheekily sliding his hand into your pocket, especially if you have a back pocket, is his favorite.

✧ If there is any possibility of him not being able to hear you, Nori will lean in as close as he can, possibly even drawing you forward with a hand beneath your chin, grinning if you get flustered.

✧ Ideal cuddling position, you ask? Why, with him on top of you, obviously! Enough said.

✧ When it isn’t in your pocket, he nearly always has a hand at the small of your back when you walk. He occasionally uses it to guide you, but mostly he likes to run it up and down your spine, occasionally running his nails down too, giving you a cheeky look when he does it.

Ori

✧ Oscillates between being too shy to show physical affection and a natural propensity to misunderstand personal space. For example, he'll probably not want to kiss you in front of his older brothers lest they tease him, but when he gets excited about his latest drawing he practically throws his arms entirely around you to show you his sketchpad.

✧ Shares his scarf with you, winding the two of you both into its long, thick warmth and flushing as you lean in closer and closer beneath it.

✧ The kisses you share in private are almost desperate, hands clinging to whatever fold of fabric they can reach to draw each other in.

✧ Enjoys pretty much any way you lie together, facing each other, back to back, you name it, Ori is eager for it!

✧ Rubs your hands between his own to keep you warm, straightens your clothes up for you, little tending touches that lead to kisses upon your hands or head.

Fili

✧ Gives amazing hugs, pulling you into his arms and soothingly, lovingly sliding a hand up and down your back.

✧ So sweet, he loves swinging your joined hands between you both if you are granted the opportunity for a leisurely stroll.

✧ Always wants to be the big spoon when you guys cuddle, that position feeling much more protective of you, secure as he can hold you.

✧ Sneaks up behind you to cover your eyes, asking ‘guess who’ and chuckling at the way you startle if he catches you by surprise.

✧ Offers you his arm when you walk together and smiling when you link yours with his and rest your hand upon his upper arm.

Kili

✧ In love with physical affection. Who cares who sees you? Not this dwarven prince, that is certain! Completely unafraid to pull you into his lap and hold you, pride crossing his face.

✧ Pulls your joined hands into his pockets as you walk side by side.

✧ When he teaches you how to shoot, he guides you smoothly by the hips, hands running down your sides and along the length of your arms until you reach the proper stance.

✧ His favorite way to cuddle is you lain upon his chest, your head against his heart and right there for him to place kisses atop.

✧ You two are a tangled mess at fireside, someone’s legs always thrown upon the other’s lap.

Bilbo

✧ Rather than show you over-the-top affection, Bilbo is the sort to just stay glued to your side, joining you at the hip for even the most mundane tasks even if it’s under the guise of “getting a break from all the dwarves”.

✧ Similarly, he’ll offer to hold your hands “because it’s quite crowded” or “just so you don’t fall, it’s a bit steep here and all”.

✧ When you sit together at the fireside, he may get flustered but he absolutely loves it when you lay your head upon his shoulder.

✧ He also favors being little spoon, not that he would necessarily tell you that out loud, but you can feel the way he relaxes, hums in contentment against you.

✧ Bilbo gets surprisingly protective, though, shifting you behind him or moving you aside by your waist when danger strikes.

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shautiecultist · 1 month

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Inked

lottie matthews x tattoo artist!gn!reader summary: Lottie has a crush on you so she decides to get a tattoo to get closer to you warnings: needles I guess

As a tattoo artist, you've seen it all. You've tattooed everyone from famous musicians to those experiencing a midlife crisis, and everyone in between.

One day, a girl walks through the doors, and as soon as you see her, your heart skips a beat. As she sits down, she smiles at you, and you know instantly: this is going to be good.

As she lowers herself into the chair, you have to take a moment to compose yourself. There's something about her that's making it hard not to stare, but you manage to snap out of it long enough to say, "So, what can I do for you today?"

"I want a tattoo, but I'm not sure what to get," she says, uncertainty lingering in her voice.

"Here's my catalog," you say, reaching out to the book where you keep most of your tattoo designs.

The smile on her face is contagious as she glances at all the designs you have on display, seemingly trying to decide which one she wants. You see her eyes linger on one in particular for a moment before she says, "May I see that one?" She points to a drawing of deer you drew a long time ago.

"Sure thing. Here you go," you respond, handing her the drawing of the deer.

Lottie's eyes dart over every inch of the design before she picks it up and carefully examines each of its details. She seems so genuinely intrigued by the work that you feel a surge of pride bubble within you. When her gaze finally settles on the tattoo, she has an almost awestruck look about her. "Wow," she says quietly, as if she's truly taken with it.

"It's beautiful," Lottie finally says, still admiring the design. "Did you create this?"

“I did,” you say, trying to sound humble but unable to keep an edge of pride from your voice. "I drew it a few years ago while I was still in college, but I still love it." You have to admit, it's one of your favorite pieces.

"It's really incredible. I've never seen anything like it," she says, running her hand over the design, seemingly still fascinated by it. "I've been wanting to get a tattoo for a while now, but I've been too scared to commit to anything. But this, this is perfect."

You prepare the workstation, setting up all the necessary tools and double-checking that everything is sterile. To make sure she's comfortable, you decide to make some small talk.

"Are you really sure about this?" you ask, wanting to make sure she has no doubt about getting this tattoo.

“Yep, I’m so sure,” she says, leaning back in the chair and stretching her legs out in front of her. “I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. I think it’s time to finally do it.”

"So what made you decide to get tattooed?"

"I've had a crush on someone for a really long time, and I finally decided to go for it," she admits. "I figured that this was a good way to break the ice with them."

"If you don't mind me asking, how will this break the ice with your crush?"

Lottie hesitates for a few seconds before answering your question. "Well, I've noticed that the person I have a crush on is really into tattoos," she explains. "And I thought that getting something unique like this might catch their attention."

"Oh, that's really… sweet," you say in genuine surprise and admiration at her bold decision. "I can't say for sure how they'll react, but I have to say, I think it's a pretty good way to get their attention. Now, can I start the tattooing?"

After a few minutes of tattooing, the design is slowly coming to life. Lottie glances at it and at you every so often but otherwise tries to stay as still as she can while you work.

At last, you finish the tattoo and sit back with a sigh of relief. The design looks even better than you imagined it would. When Lottie is about to pay, she smiles at you, but then she realizes this might be her last chance to ask you out.

"So I… uh… I was wondering if maybe…" Lottie pauses, trying to gather her nerve, and you glance at her curiously as you listen. She takes a deep breath. "If maybe you'd like to… get coffee with me… someday?" she finally says, her eyes darting back and forth between your face and the counter.

You're taken aback for a moment, but then you flash her a big grin. "I would love to," you say, feeling your own nerves starting to tingle. "I was actually just thinking that I could probably use a cup of coffee right about now. That is, if you'd like to join me?"

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #lottie matthews #lottie matthews x reader #my posts

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writeforfandoms · 2 months

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The Name of the Wind 1

Find the series masterlist

Left with few options, you decide to take a chance and travel down the southern garrison. Hopefully the old tales of dragon riders are true…

For the Alejandro challenge hosted by @glitterypirateduck For this chapter I used "Have a drink with me."

This does take place in the same universe as Homeward Bound, but it's not necessary to read that one to understand this story. All you need to know is: dragons.

Warnings: Fantasy au, dragons, swearing, dragons, some politics and social norms and standards of a fantasy realm, some sexism, did I mention dragons?

Word count: 1.6k

You cursed your luck for what had to be the dozenth time in the last few hours as you slogged through the downpour towards the garrison. Nestled partially into the mountain by the river that marked the border of the country, the garrison would have normally been out of your way.

Except for current circumstances.

You just had to hope the stories you'd heard would hold true, and they'd take pity on you. At least for the night.

By the time you reached the door, you were shivering, fingers nearly numb even as you raised your hand to knock. The door to the hall stood much taller than you, and much wider. Big and grand. Much like all the stories of the dragon riders themselves.

The door opened after a few long moments, during which you'd had just enough time to worry about finding other shelter for the night. The young man at the door ushered you inside immediately, leading the way.

The door closed behind you with a soft boom, echoed moments later by the storm outside with a louder rumble.

Well. At least you were inside now.

The young man took you to a room, what looked like a sitting room or informal meeting room. A young woman appeared at the door with towels, handing them over and asking you to wait there.

Not that you were going to disobey. You hadn't seen any, and likely wouldn't in the hall, but you knew there were dragons nearby. They were too big to fit in this hall, but maybe in the mountain itself? How did that work?

The door opened while you were still thinking about it, leaving you looking wide-eyed at the man in the doorway. Dark hair, dark eyes, plain but sturdy looking clothes. He was tall, and broad, but there was nothing excessive about him. He didn't carry wealthy baubles like you'd seen other men do.

And yet, you couldn't pull your gaze from him.

“Welcome to the southern garrison.” He stepped forward, holding out a hand to you. “I am Alejandro.”

You gave him your name, shaking his hand without looking away from him. “Thank you for letting me in. I imagine this is unusual.”

His lips twitched. “No rider of good standing would leave someone in rain such as this,” he said, waving away your thanks. “Especially soaked through as you are.”

You glanced down at your clothes, which were indeed still dark and saturated with water. No wonder you couldn't warm up.

“I'll have someone bring you some clothes,” he offered after a moment. “And food. You look like you have traveled today.”

“I have.” You swallowed. “Thank you.”

He inclined his head, a regal move that you'd never liked before in other men. But from him… Well. It was different.

He was different.

Someone did indeed bring clothes and a plate of food, both of which you were grateful for. Your wet clothes were whisked away expertly at the same time your plate was. Honestly, it was almost scary how efficient they seemed.

When Alejandro returned, you were mostly dry, in clean clothes, and fed. Much better than when you had arrived. His lips twitched in something like approval.

“Come,” he offered, beckoning you closer. “Have a drink with me.”

You nodded, stepping closer to him. Briefly, you were grateful they hadn't brought you a skirt. You'd gone a long time without wearing one, and you weren't keen to start again now.

“Tomorrow, perhaps, I will take you on a tour,” Alejandro offered, glancing at you as he turned the two of you down a different hallway.

“I'd like that,” you agreed softly, eyebrows raising when he stopped in front of a door, pushing it open to reveal a room very like the one you'd been in. But this one was warmer, a blanket tossed over the back of one of the chairs, a glass bottle and a few glasses set on a side table. Alejandro walked straight to that, pouring two drinks of light amber liquid.

“Here.” He held out one of the glasses to you before nodding you to sit where you liked. He settled in a chair, knees spread, gaze fixed on you even as he took a sip of his drink. “I must ask what you're doing so far out this direction. We are not exactly on the way to anything.”

You took a sip to buy yourself a moment, and nearly spluttered. This stuff was strong, stronger than you were used to. You blinked rapidly, licking your lips. “What is this?”

“A local specialty.” His lips twitched again, but this time the amusement did not reach his eyes.

You cradled your drink carefully in your hand, swallowing briefly. Time to come clean. “I was hoping to speak to whoever is in charge about a job.”

He leaned back a little, eyebrows raising. “Go on.”

You hesitated only a moment before you nodded and kept talking. “I work leather, learned from my father. I'm one of the best out in this area.”

“Then why are you looking for work?” He took a slow sip of his drink.

You eyed him. He hadn't gone to get anyone else, which meant either he was high up in this garrison, or he was checking your story before passing you on to whoever was in charge. Possibly both. Either way, there was no good reason to lie to him.

“I am supposed to marry.”

His eyebrows shot up. “You're running.”

You opened your mouth to defend yourself, but he was right. You were running. Jaw clenched, you nodded, just once.

Silence fell between the two of you, thicker than the alcohol still in your glass. You had no idea what he was thinking, expression impassive, though the gentle tapping of his fingers on his glass indicated that he was thinking about something.

“Tell me why.”

You breathed in, slow and deep. “I will be his third wife,” you said, voice low, weighing each word as you spoke. “His first died unexpectedly. The second apparently in childbirth. But rumors spread.” You swallowed, thinking of the freshly dug grave you'd visited.

“You think he is not innocent.” Alejandro didn't move, watching you closely. When you shook your head, throat too tight for you to speak, he hummed in consideration. “But your family does not object to the match?”

You couldn't help the chuckle that escaped you, hurt and bitter. “There's no one left to object.”

He nodded slowly, fingers once again tapping rhythmically on his glass. “And this was your plan,” he surmised. “To run here and hope for a job, knowing we take care of our own.”

“Hoping you would,” you admitted, trying for levity and falling short. “Otherwise, my plan was to continue west to the coast, and then follow the coastline until I found another town.”

Alejandro tipped his head, looking you over once, slowly. Unlike with other men, this felt less personal. More assessing. Less leering. “On your own?”

You shrugged. “Better than dying,” you quipped, even as your heart thumped in your chest. If he said no, if he denied your request, you had no idea if you'd even make it to the coast. You had supplies with you, what you could carry, but there was no guarantee.

Alejandro chuckled suddenly, smiling. “We have guest rooms,” he said, relaxing back in his chair. “You will use one for tonight. Tomorrow, we will talk more. Finish your drink.”

You relaxed at the guarantee of at least one night of safety. “Thank you.” The alcohol went down a little easier the second time.

Alejandro didn't say anything more, but he did finish his drink, and sat quietly with you until you'd finished yours. Then he stood, plucking your glass from fingers finally warmed through.

“This way,” he told you, leading the way back into the hallway. This time the route was more complicated - you turned multiple times, passing a dining hall before turning down a different area. Though there was no dust, this area felt more disused, quieter. Not abandoned, but less traveled.

The final hallway he turned down had six doors, all open, three on each side. He waved a lazy hand towards them.

“Pick whichever room you like,” he offered. “Someone will bring you to breakfast in the morning.”

You nodded, murmuring your thanks, and took the first room on the left. A few candles had been lit already for you, and you briefly wondered how in the world Alejanfro had arranged everything so fast. You'd heard tales of riders being telepathic, but had dismissed them as being nonsense. But maybe…

Shaking your head, you shut the door softly, taking a moment to admire the room. It was set up for guests grander than yourself, with a small sitting area by the single window set high on the wall. The bed looked plush, the blankets soft when you touched them.

Much too nice for someone like yourself. But you'd take it, just for tonight.

Your boots weren't dry yet, so you set them aside carefully. Your pack you left next to your boots, after a quick check to be sure everything was alright. The few tools you'd brought with you were fine, the oiled leather you'd put over the top of the pack having done its job. Your spare set of clothes were mostly dry, your food fine.

Your father's gloves sat in the bottom, leather well worn and soft. They were too big for you, but you hadn't been able to leave them behind.

Weariness finally settled in with the alcohol and the knowledge that you'd be safe for one night. It took longer than you wanted to admit to extinguish the candles for the night. You left one flickering softly on the far wall, just in case.

You fell asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow.

#the name of the wind #dragon riders au #amor a alejandro #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas x you #f!reader

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mountsmase · 1 year

Text

- home -

Imagine Mason takes you to Portsmouth for the first time.

You and Mason have been together just under two years, but whenever you’ve seen his family/relatives it’s always been in Cobham, so you’ve never had the chance to visit Portsmouth with him, the place he grew up and the place that holds such a special place in his heart.

He has taken you to visit the local football club that he used to play for before moving to Chelsea, and you’re absolutely love just sitting in the side lines, watching him interact with the players and give them some advice and tips.

He had agree to play a small 6-a-side match with a few of the older players, and after a while, despite the chill in the air, he gets hot running around in all the layers he has on, so he excuses him self for a moment to jog over to where you are sitting in the small section of stands that line the pitch. He pulls the jacket from around his shoulders and hands it over to you, not missing the opportunity to give you a quick kiss before re-joining the group on the grass. You instantly pull it around your shoulders. You had become significantly colder over the last hour or so, but the jacket warms you up instantly as you zip it around you and nuzzle your face into the soft material, Masons scent (which has grown to be your favourite scent ever) engulfing you and making you feel warm from the inside out.

You sit and watch them whilst they finish their game, occasionally going on your phone to send a text to a friend and when you stick your hand into one of the jacket pockets, you find Masons phone. You jump at the opportunity to snap a couple of selfies of your self and some random pictures of them playing on the pitch, knowing it would make him smile when he eventually finds them on his phone.

Not much longer later they finish their game and Mason calls you over, kicking the ball towards you as you approach him and he can’t help but laugh as you fail miserably to kick it back to him, the ball flying in the opposite direction as one of the players chases to go and retrieve it. You bring your hands up and cover your face as a deep blush covers your cheeks, feeling embarrassed at not being able to do the simple task of kicking a ball in front of a handful of skilled footballers.

“I’m glad you find amusement in me humiliating myself” you say sarcastically as you reach Mason, giving his arm a playful slap as he pulls you closer to him. His hands quickly find their place around your waist as you stand in front of him, your back to his chest as your body welcomes his warmth and you fully relax into him.

You both stand and chat to a few of the coaches and players for a little longer, and Mason is so excited to introduce you to his old coach when he arrives to start training with his younger players. He tells you everything from how dedicated Mason was as a young boy and how much of an inspiration he’s been for some of their current players, to some of his embarrassing stories from training, and you stand and listen to every single word in absolute awe, loving learning more about how Mason was as a child, and hearing different stories from people outside of his close family circle.

Eventually you both decide it’s the right time to leave, not wanting to disturb the training sessions any longer than necessary. You take a few photos of Mason with some of the players before bidding your goodbyes and heading back over to the car, where you climb into the passenger seat and get your phone out, ready to find your route home on Google maps.

The original plan was to make the journey back to Cobham after visiting the club, finding somewhere to stop and have dinner on the way home, but Mason stops you just as you’re loading up the quickest route.

“I Just want to make one more stop before we leave” is all he tells you, refusing to give you anymore information as he pulls out of the parking lot and goes the opposite direction, away from where you are meant to be going.

His hand soon finds your thigh, palm facing upwards to allow you to entwine your fingers with his. Your other hand rests on his fore arm, fingertips lightly drawing invisible patterns and shapes into his skin through the soft material of his hoodie.

You try and figure out where he could possibly be taking you, but your lack of knowledge about the area makes it almost impossible for you to know where you are heading.

“Can you at least give me a small hint?” You try again to get more information out of him, but he simply shakes his head in response wanting to keep the element of surprise to his spontaneous plan.

You’re in the car for another 10 minutes before he pulls into a car park along the sea front. He parks the car and jumps out, rushing around to the passenger side to open your own door and help you step down onto the gravelly surface of the parking lot.

You are led towards the back of his car, where he opens up the boot to reveal your bags and multiple other items he keeps in there, like some old football boots and his training gear. He digs around for a minute before pulling out a fluffy blanket from underneath your bags, and then he finds another one of his jackets to put on, knowing you well enough to know that you won’t be giving back the one you are wearing any time soon.

He locks the car and you walk hand in hand onto the fairly large pebbly beach that separates the car park from the ocean, stopping a little way back from the waters edge. Mason kicks around a few of the stones, making sure the ground is comfy enough for you before pulling you to sit down next to him. He wraps the blanket around both of you and you immediately snuggle into his side, head finding it’s usual place on his shoulder as you take in the view in front of you, noticing the sun starting to set into the ocean, casting perfect shades of red and orange across the sky.

“I used to love this beach, I remember spending the summer playing in the sea and watching the sunset here, getting ice cream and burgers from that little restaurant over there” he points behind you to a small shack like building, the shutters down over the windows indicating that it’s closed, It used to be one of my favourite things to do when I wasn’t at school or playing football”

Your heart warms hearing him reminisce about his childhood, and after spending the last two days here with him, you now understand why he loves it down here so much.

“Thank you,” you mumble to him and he tilts his head to look down at you, a confused expression covering his face as he wonders what you could be thanking him for, “For bringing me here, for letting me see and learn all these things about your childhood and where you grew up. I can tell how much you loved and enjoyed it here and and even people who don’t know you would be able to see how happy and relaxed you are when you’re back.”

You know Mason has been struggling lately, with a difficult season for Chelsea and some other stuff going on behind the scenes, he’s been tense and closed off recently, but over the last 48 hours you couldn’t help but notice how he’s been more relaxed, that ear to ear smile that you missed so much making a return.

He looks down at you and he can’t help but think about how beautiful you are, both inside and out. He thinks about how lucky he is, to have found someone like you who is so patient with him, someone who has stuck with him through everything good and bad that’s happened over the course of your relationship, and someone who will continue to stick with him. He’s knows for sure that you’re it for him, and he can’t thank Ben enough for introducing you to each other on that night a few years ago. You’ve changed his life for the better and he’ll forever be grateful for you.

“Yeah, of course, I want to share these things with you, and thank you for coming with me” he leaves a kiss onto the top of your head, “I do love it down here, I always will, this place is a part of me, but my life is in Cobham now, at Chelsea and with you, and I know it’s been a little difficult recently but I love it up there just as much. Home is where ever you are and I wouldn’t change that for anything.”

You don’t say anything in response, but your actions speak for you as you bring your hand up to cup his cheek, his beard scratching against your palm but you couldn’t care less when you attach your lips to his. His hand finds your jaw as he tilts your head ever so slightly, giving him better access when you part your lips for him, his tongue meeting yours almost immediately.

The kiss gets a little more heated as his spare hand brushes down your back under the blanket, making its way around to your thigh before giving it a gentle squeeze. You let out a breathy moan into his mouth at the feeling of his hands on you but you reluctantly pull away from him, giggling as he lets out a whine, chasing your lips with his.

You place your hand onto his chest as if to stop him moving any further towards you, a pout growing on his lips “As much as I’d love to, I’m not really in the mood to get caught making out with you where any one can see us,” you say, trying to catch your breath.

You know that basically everyone in Portsmouth knows who he is, and with you being out in the open on a public beach, your chances of being caught are very high. You did not want to wake up in the morning to headlines saying ‘Chelsea star boy spotted making out with girlfriend on Portsmouth beach’, and you knew he wouldn’t want that either.

“Tonight though? When we’re home” he gives you his best puppy dog eyes, knowing you can resist him when he does that, but to be completely honest? You can never resist him anyway.

“I promise,” you bring your hand up in front of your faces and stick your pinky out, and he straight away does the same, linking your fingers together to seal the deal.

You continue to sit in a comfortable silence while the sun dips into the sea. Holding each other close as you watch the last of the orange and pink hues reflect off the ocean before being replaced by darker blue shades as the night sky takes over.

When you jump in the car to make the journey home you lean in, giving him one last kiss before whispering against his lips, “I love you, so much”

And he’s quick to reply with “I love you too my darling”, before he’s pulling out of the carpark, eager to get you both home so you can fulfil the promise you’d made to him only a handful of moments ago.

a/n: I’m not really sure how I feel about this one tbh, kind of hate it kind of love it, but I hope you enjoyed x

#mason mount #Mason mount imagine #Mason concepts

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ccrites · 2 months

Text

i've been thinking of getting a tattoo for a long time, not only because i want to, but also to cover an old stick'n'poke i got when i was 15.

and so it got me thinking of the 141 tattoo artist!au. and oh boy.

Kyle would be an absolute sweetheart. not judging the stupid decisions a teenager made. more like "you wanted a tattoo and you went out of your way to get it, that's awesome. now how about we enhance it instead of covering it, whaddya think pretty girl?" and he'd draw around it, incorporate it into his art, go over the parts that are faded and uneven, then, when he's finished, wipe it gently and go "there, what should've been your first real tattoo" with his blinding smile and a promise to also be the one to do your next one

Johnny would be excited about finding creative ways to make parts of the stick'n'poke incorporate into other elements, make it so you'd never know it was there. but he's also a bit of a freak! making sort of mean comments about, "such a stupid decision, you were but a wee lass and ye didn't know what you wanted! thank god Johnny's here ta' fix ya'". It doesn't help that the tattoo you got was somewhere hidden, somewhere your parents wouldn't see on summer vacation (think where your underwear would cover it, or under your bra straps!) and he'd be such a creep! Sitting closer than absolutely necessary, looking at you too intensely. At the end, he'd suggest a truly hidden tattoo, "Only for me to see, bun, whaddya say?"

Ghost would be the type to frown behind the mask and look at you meanly, and you're afraid that he'd judge you for doing this kind of thing (you had your reasons, okay? some rough period in your life, you needed catharsis, and you were too young to get a real tattoo) and he'd be really condescending, all "there's a reasons youngins can't get them. Cuz' it's a stupid decision to make." and he'd huff and draw the most exquisite art you'd seen, all black, bold lines, and way, way bigger than necessary to cover the small tattoo. If the tattoo was on your hip, he'd extend it from your waist all the way down to your knee, make it flow with your curves, accentuate the stretch marks, and you can't say no because you absolutely adore the style. if the tattoo was on your ribs (bra straps, remember?" he'd extend it under your tits, bring it back over the clavicle, make it to be seen. and the pain. oh the pain. "you said you wanted catharsis, right?"

John would absolutely be on Ghost's side, with "there's a reason they don't let kids get tattoos" and you hear the underlying what a fucking mistake, and you see how he judges you... it makes you want to get it from him the most. Until you get to the consultation, and he tells you to get it lasered off first. But it's so faded, it should be easy to cover, no? you argue. he won't budge. So you get the expensive laser. it sorta hurts mentally, because you got it done with your best friend, and you always assumed you'd keep it there, underneath another layer of ink, where only you would remember it. It takes a few sessions, but then the skin is clean, a blank canvas for John to paint on. and paint he does. it's the most gorgeous piece you could ever imagine, you can see the inspiration Ghost draws from him, all bold shapes that flow into each other and compliment your body. Your skin is raw and pink when he's done, and you get up to admire the work... until you get a closer look in the mirror. you know exactly where the old tattoo would've been, and you'd expected to not be able to place it, under the new art. in its stead, two letters, black, bold, beautifully intertwined.... J.P. ... He'd put his lips next to your ear as you stand in shocked silence. "You're my canvas now."

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monta-02 · 9 months

Text

TW: Noncon, AFAB Whumpee, AMAB Whumper, death threats, guns, failed escape, forced oral sex, grinding, creepy Whumper, humiliation, degradation, tied up

When Whumpee escaped, they tried to stay low. They got a cheap hotel room, and tried not to leave under any circumstances, unless it was absolutely necessary. They kept reminding themself that this wouldn't be forever, just for a few weeks, until the situation calmed down.

It had been barely a week since they escaped, and Whumpee was paranoid. They jumped at every little noise, they couldn't sleep well, and they've barely eaten anything.

They were exhausted, both physically and mentally.

They knew Whumper was searching for them, and Whumpee was terrified of what was going to happen to them if they were caught. Whumper's anger was terrifying, and Whumpee could vividly remember every punishment and torture they've done to them.

Whumper was ruthless and cruel.

Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, Whumpee ran their hands through their hair, taking deep breaths. Their body was trembling, their nerves frayed, and their thoughts were running a mile a minute. They felt nauseous, and their body was sore from sleeping on a lumpy mattress. It was better than Whumper's though.

Whumpee sighed heavily and stood up, their knees buckling slightly. They stumbled their way into the room, flopping down onto the bed face first, groaning.

Their clothes were all dirty, just a thin towel wrapped around them. They knew they'd have to wash them soon, but going outside even for that terrified them.

They rolled over to their back and stared blankly at the ceiling. Whumpee desperately wanted to sleep, their eyes drooping, but the nightmares prevented them.

Every time they closed their eyes, they were haunted by Whumper.

That's when they heard a knock.

Whumpee froze, their heart hammering in their chest. They didn't move, their muscles tensing, waiting to see if it was their imagination.

After a minute of silence, Whumpee slowly relaxed, thinking it really was their mind playing tricks.

Then there was another knock, followed by a familiar voice.

"I know you're in there. Open the door or I'll break it down."

Sitting up, Whumpee's blood ran cold. They recognized that voice anywhere. Whumper found them, and they were knocking at their door.

Whumpee scrambled off their bed and hurried to the bathroom, shutting the door quietly. They pressed their back to the wall, sliding down until they were sitting on the floor.

They listened closely as they heard the door open, their breathing becoming uneven. Whumpee prayed Whumper would think they weren't here, that they'll leave, and they'll escape once more.

There wasn't a lock on the door, but even if there was, it would be hopeless.

Whumper wasn't dumb, however, and Whumpee cursed them when they heard their boots walk across the carpet floor, pausing in the bathroom.

Whumpee covered their mouth with their hand, their breathing becoming erratic, as they heard Whumper jiggle the doorknob.

The doorknob started to turn, and Whumpee flinched. They squeezed their eyes shut, waiting for Whumper to open the door and drag them back. The door opened, and Whumpee didn't dare open their eyes.

"So this is where you're hiding?" Whumper mused, and Whumpee shivered as they heard them crouch down. A gloved hand cupped their cheek, and Whumpee couldn't stop the whimper from escaping their lips. "Look at me, Whumpee."

Whumpee didn't move, their entire body tense, their heart threatening to burst. Whumper tsked and grabbed a fistful of their hair, making Whumpee gasp and open their eyes, tears already forming.

Whumper smiled at them, their grip tight, making them hiss in pain.

"You've given me quite the chase, baby," they chuckled, pulling their hair harder, earning a pained whine. "But now the fun's over. Stand."

"N-no," Whumpee choked, their hands clutching Whumper's wrist. "Please, don't. I don't want- I can't-"

"I'm not asking," Whumper growled, pulling them closer, their noses nearly touching. Whumpee flinched at Whumper's tone, their breath hitching. "Stand, or I'll make sure you can never stand again."

Whumpee shuddered. They knew Whumper was serious, and they didn't want their legs broken, or worse. Slowly, Whumpee shakily stood, and Whumper followed.

Letting go of their hair, Whumper grabbed their bicep, leading them out of the bathroom. Whumpee stumbled after them, their knees weak, eyes darting around, looking for something, anything, to help them. Whumper lead Whumpee towards the bed and pushed them onto it.

Whumper grabbed Whumpee's towel, easily pulling it off, leaving them naked. Whumpee tried to cover themself but Whumper slapped their hands away.

Roughly turning Whumpee around, Whumper pushed them onto their stomach, grabbing their wrists and tying them together with a rope they had ready. They struggled, but Whumper tightened the rope, making them hiss. They then tied Whumpee's ankles.

"There, much better," Whumper purred after pulling away. "I missed seeing you like this, sweetheart."

"Fuck you," Whumpee hissed, glaring at Whumper over their shoulder. "Let me go!"

"Now why would I do that?" Whumper mused, placing a hand on Whumpee's ass, squeezing it. Their grin turned into a glare. "You really pissed me off, Whumpee. I went through so much trouble finding you, and you're going to pay for it."

Easily flipping Whumpee over, Whumper admired their naked body, eyes dark. They ran their hands up Whumpee's inner thighs, smirking at how their legs trembled. Whumper dug their nails in Whumpee's soft skin.

A trail of red lines followed Whumper's nails, and Whumpee squeezed their eyes shut. They tugged at their binds, wanting to get away from them, to escape.

They knew they were in deep shit, and they were scared of what Whumper was going to do.

Whumper looked up to their captive's face, then stood. Before Whumpee could even be relieved, Whumper shoved them to the floor and walked over to the chair in front of the bed. They sat down and pointed to the floor. "Over here. Now."

"I can't, I'm tied-"

"Crawl."

Cringing, Whumpee awkwardly crawled their way towards Whumper, stopping between their legs. They refused to look at them, but Whumper grabbed their hair and forced them to.

They were sure Whumper was going to force them to suck them off, like they had done many times before, but Whumper surprised them.

"Here's what's going to happen. You're going to grind yourself here." Whumper pointed to their expensive shoe. "You will only cum when I tell you to, and then you're going to lick it all off. Understand?" Whumpee hesitated, earning a tug to their hair, making them hiss. "Do you understand?"

"Yes," Whumpee whispered, glancing at Whumper's shoe. "I-I understand."

Whumper hummed, releasing Whumpee's hair and leaned back in their chair. "Then start grinding."

Hesitantly, Whumpee lowered themself onto Whumper's shoe, their thighs pressing against it. Whumpee slowly started grinding against it, the rubber sole rubbing painfully against them. Whumpee tried to go slow, but Whumper wasn't having it, pushing their shoe deep into Whumpee, earning a yelp.

"I'm being merciful and you still manage to waste my time," Whumper growled, hand grabbing Whumpee's hair once more. "Grind faster."

"I-I'm trying," Whumpee hissed, glaring at them, their hips moving faster. "It hurts-"

"Good," Whumper interrupted, their eyes dark. "I want it to hurt."

A shudder ran down Whumpee's spine, their glare faltering. They continued grinding, gasping and hissing every time Whumper pushed their shoe deep into them, the sole rubbing against their most sensitive areas. Whumpee closed their eyes, tears pricking at the corners, their hips stuttering.

"Please," Whumpee whispered, their hips slowing, earning a tug to their hair. "I-I can't- it hurts-" Whumpee was caught off when they heard a click. Opening their eyes, Whumpee saw Whumper was holding a gun, pointing it at them. Whumpee's blood ran cold. "Wh-"

"Keep grinding."

Swallowing hard, Whumpee hesitantly did what Whumper said, their eyes trained on the gun. Whumper watched Whumpee grind against their shoe, their finger on the trigger. Whumpee shuddered, wondering if Whumper was really crazy enough to shoot them while they did this.

Whumper noticed the hesitation, so they pressed the barrel to Whumpee's temple. "Grind. Faster."

Whumpee sobbed again. Whumper smirked, their gun still pressed against their head, watching as they grind desperately against their shoe, their juices coating the rubber. Whumper enjoyed every expression Whumpee made, their lips parting, soft noises and gasps escaping them.

"Close?" Whumper chuckled.

"Yes," Whumpee whimpered, their grinding becoming sloppy. "Can I please-"

"No."

Whumpee shuddered, their walls fluttering. They slowed their hips, their breathing uneven. Whumper pushed the gun against their temple harder, making Whumpee hiss.

"I didn't tell you to stop."

They trembled, their hips picking up the pace once more, their juices practically dripping onto Whumper's shoe. Whumpee gasped and whined, tears falling, their thighs burning. Whumper watched them, their finger twitching on the trigger, their free hand unbuttoning their pants. Pulling out their cock, Whumper lazily stroked it.

"Look at me," Whumper purred, Whumpee hesitantly opening their teary eyes, looking up at them. "You're so pathetic. Look at you, grinding against my shoe like a bitch in heat."

"Please," Whumpee whined, their hips moving faster. "Please-"

"Cum."

Whimpering, Whumpee immediately came, their hips stuttering, their juices coating onto Whumper's shoe. Whumper hummed, continuing to stroke themself as Whumpee rode their orgasm, their breathing labored.

Whumper looked at their shoes, chuckling. "Look at the mess you made."

Whumpee glanced down, their face heating up, embarrassment washing over them. Whumper suddenly grabbed Whumpee's hair, earning a hiss, and shoved their face onto their shoe. Whumpee flinched, their nose pressing against it, their cum smearing across their face.

"Start cleaning."

"But-"

"If you don't, I'll blow your brains out," Whumper reminded, their gun pressing against Whumpee's temple once more. Tears still rolling down their eyes, Whumpee hesitantly started licking their shoe clean, shuddering at their own taste. "That's it. Get it all clean."

Whumpee wanted to throw up, their tongue dragging over the rubber, their cum mixed with their saliva. Whumper watched them, their free hand still stroking themself, their grip on Whumpee's hair tight. Whumpee closed their eyes, focusing on licking their shoe clean, their cheeks burning.

"Open your eyes and look at me," Whumper growled, Whumpee flinching and obeying. They shuddered, seeing Whumper's eyes dark, their grin wide. "You look so humiliated. How cute."

Sobbing, Whumpee continued licking. Whumper chuckled and leaned their head back, their hand speeding up. Whumpee didn't stop licking until every inch was clean, their stomach churning.

Whumper kicked them in the face once their shoes were both clean, earning a pained cry. Whumpee fell onto their side, their nose throbbing, their hands pulling at their binds. Whumper moaned as they continued stroking themself, their gaze trailing Whumpee's naked body.

"On your knees. Hurry."

They really, really didn't want to, fully knowing why, but they couldn't bring themself to rebel further.

Whumpee awkwardly pushed themself up, kneeling between Whumper's legs. They didn't even notice the blood trickling down their nose until Whumper wiped at it, licking at it and moaning again. They then used the same hand and grabbed Whumpee's hair, tugging them closer.

Whumper guided their cock into their mouth, pushing all the way in, earning a gag. Whumpee wanted to vomit as they felt the disgustingly familiar taste of Whumper's cum, their throat protesting. Whumper groaned, their grip tightening.

"You better swallow it all," Whumper growled, thrusting their hips, Whumpee gagging once more. "You're not allowed to miss a single drop."

Whumpee squeezed their eyes shut, Whumper's thrusts harsh. They choked and gagged, their lungs burning, their face bright red.

Tears rolled down their cheeks as Whumper's cum filled their mouth, their thrusts stuttering. Whumper moaned loudly, their cock twitching in Whumpee's mouth, their grip painful.

Pulling out, Whumper grinned wildly, seeing Whumpee's face flushed and tear stained.

Whumper's cum dripped out their mouth, Whumpee's chest heaving. Whumper grabbed Whumpee's chin, making them look at them.

"Show me."

Whumpee parted their lips, showing them that they did as they were told. Whumper hummed, their thumb wiping at some cum that was dripping down Whumpee's chin.

They rubbed it against Whumpee's tongue, earning a whine. They watched as Whumpee swallowed down the last bit of cum, then shoved them back on the floor.

Whumper stood up, tucking themself back into their pants, fixing their shirt. Whumpee watched them, their tears falling, their entire body aching. They flinched when Whumper crouched down, their grin unsettling.

"Good job, sweetie," Whumper praised, wiping away a stray tear. "Now, let's go home. I'm not done with your punishment."

#nsfwhump #creepy/intimate whumper #whump scenario #creepy whumper #whump #whump writing #tw noncon #noncon tw #intimate whumper #non con #i'm new to writing nsf w so sorry if this kinda sucks #also i'm sleep deprived and very behind on requests so this was kind of rushed but i just really felt like posting something here lol

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vanrougemoons · 10 months

Text

almost midnight break-in.

prompt: Person A breaking into Person B’s room through the window.

• Late Birthday Present for @seareefer ♥ • Word Count: 994

Perhaps this isn’t how you imagined your night going. Actually, it’s not something you wouldn’t expect but it absolutely is not something you imagined happening tonight.

. . .

You had been mindlessly scrolling through your magicam feed. You liked a post Cater made earlier, and oooh’d at a photoshoot preview Vil uploaded. Truly, you were living the best life instead of sleeping and being an example for other students to follow.

You snort and instantly DM a meme to the group chat you have with Ace and Deuce.

Then you hear a tap on your window. Common sense tells you to disregard it because you’re too dulled out from all the historical events you’ve lived through since finding yourself in this world. Common sense also decides that it might just be a tree or something.

You hear a tap again and look up from your phone- waiting for your eyes to adjust to the change in lighting so you can figure out what’s actually going on.

The window shakes, and sure it could just be the wind making your run-down windows shake, as they often do. But you swear that you saw a hand smack against the glass.

You grip your blanket closer to yourself as your window jiggles open and you spot the two beady eyes staring straight at your eyes. In the darkness of your room, you really can’t make out a face but… bright yellow and brown? There are only two answers as to who it could be, and you quite doubt that one of them would crawl into your room at midnight.

Actually, both would- but you don’t think one would do it unless absolutely necessary.

You reach over to the half working lamp next to your bed and turn it on with a click. In a flash, a grinning face stares back at you.

“Shrimpy!”

You sit up in disbelief, “Floyd- how did… actually,” you shake your head, “never mind. Why?”

You should probably know better than to ask this boy why he’s climbing up to your bedroom at eleven at night. But you asked anyways.

The eel-boy in question manages to push the window up enough that he can slide into your room easily. You’re suddenly grateful that Grim’s taking the couch tonight as you deadpan at him, “Floyd.”

He stands up to his full height while stretching upwards, “I was bored.” He replies as if it were the most normal thing ever, you narrow your eyes at him.

“Being bored doesn’t mean that you can scale your way up to a bedroom, y’know?” your voice muffled by your blanket. You’re used to his antics, in fact, you’re surprised at yourself for being surprised that he’s here.

Shaking your head, you resign yourself to your fate and decide that this will simply be an all-nighter as you now have to babysit a bored eel. “Never mind— Got something on your mind?” You pat the space on your bed next to you.

His grimace widens as he strides over to you and easily hangs himself off of you instead of sitting next to you like a normal person. His arms wrapping around your shoulders, his head easily resting on top of yours. “Mmmmmnoooope.”

Even with the extra weight on you, you find yourself comfy. Your phone lays nearby forgotten as you lean your own weight onto Floyd.

And it’s quiet, that’s rare. Very rare when it comes to him.

The wind blows a soft breeze through the open window, and you manage to pull the sheet over this boy on you. A yawn escapes you, and you think you can hear him snort.

He pulls back and stares down at your eyes mischievously, “mmm? Don’t tell me you’re already tired? I just got here- come onnnn. You gotta last a bit longer.”

“What are you even-“ you yawn again, “planning… Leech?”

He reaches for your discarded phone and stares at the time.

11:58p.m.

“Shhhhhh~ Trust me, just a bit more.”

You can’t believe the audacity of this eel-boy, boy-eel? You huff and make a grab for your phone; he laughs and easily pulls it out of your reach.

“Gimme my phone-“

“Nahhh, don’t feel like it.”

You groan and try to grab it again, “you stinky eel, I’ll fry you if you don’t give it here-“

Empty threats that make his laugh turn into cackles as he pulls it away from you again, except this time- He falls backwards with you in tow onto your bed.

His laughter doesn’t stop as you attempt to grab your small entertainment box to no avail. You’ve successfully amused the eel enough, congratulations!

You sigh in exasperation, “did you just come here to terrorize me? I’m gonna sick Jade on you- I swear-“

A wide grin spreads onto his face again, “nu-uh.”

Without missing a beat, you whip your head up to look at him straight in the eyes, “the fuck you mean nu-uh.”

Your phone lights up as it’s turned face-up in his hand.

12:00a.m.

He beams with joy and sits up so fast that he almost smacks his forehead against yours. You’re lucky you ducked to the side and rolled next to him, leaning back on your arms.

“FINALLY.”

You’re taken aback by his sudden, “wh-what?”

He’s practically shining, his grin spreading from ear to ear. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!”

. . .

You’re laughing. He’s there grinning at you like a dumbass, and you’re there laughing.

“Is this why you’re here?”

He nods so fast that it reminds you of a bobble-head figure. He looks so proud, and you’re here wiping tears from your eyes from how much you’re laughing.

“I told you I was going to be the first one to say it!”

You feel his weight crash onto you again, and you can’t help but think how much you don’t mind this.

. . .

Your phone stays on the floor forgotten, dinging every couple of minutes with notifications.

#floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #twst x reader #twst floyd #twisted wonderland x reader #twst imagines #twisted wonderland #claude writes !

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evanesdust · 4 months

Text

more than a maybe

written for- @sterekfests prompt: "Kiss me at midnight." @sterekweekly word: present @sterekbingo Christmas square: new years eve

Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale Additional Tags: POV Stiles Stilinski, Childhood Friends, Secret Crush, Gay Stiles Stilinski, Coming Out, Bisexual Derek Hale, Mutual Pining, Love Confessions, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, First Kiss, Getting Together

Summary:

…the one where Stiles thought his crush on Derek was unrequited. Spoiler: it wasn't.

"Have you seen Derek?" Cora asked, handing Stiles a glass of champagne. "There's only a few more minutes until midnight…"

Stiles rolled his eyes, ignoring her teasing grin as he took the glass.

"No, I haven't." Which was weird since they were usually attached at the hip, but Stiles was definitely going to look for him now.

Cora smirked and moved away to join the rest of the Hales gathered in the living room for the New Year's Eve celebration. Stiles had a sneaking suspicion that she knew about his crush on Derek. Hell, Derek probably knew, too, because sometimes Stiles caught Derek studying him—as if he were trying to guess what Stiles was thinking.

His scrutiny certainly never helped keep the blood from rushing to all the wrong places on Stiles's body, including his cheeks. That damned blush had been the bane of his existence ever since he realized that his feelings for Derek were far from platonic.

Because they were friends. Best friends.

And that was what made this whole situation a giant cliché. Stiles couldn't risk their friendship over an unrequited crush on his straight best friend, even if every fiber of his being was screaming at him just to tell Derek how he felt. It was safer to keep those feelings buried deep down, where they couldn't cause any damage.

Stiles figured Derek was probably hiding away from the noise and the crowd, staring at the stars. So he made his way through the party to where he was sure Derek would be, and sure enough, as he passed the large picture window facing the backyard, he spotted a familiar silhouette sitting on the deck, looking up at the night sky.

Derek.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Stiles stepped outside and quietly shut the door behind him. The crisp night air bit at his cheeks as he walked toward Derek, trying to think of something to say that didn't involve confessing his undying love.

"Hey. You okay?" Stiles asked as he drew closer, his footsteps echoing on the deck's wooden slats.

They'd practically grown up together, friends since elementary school, and Stiles could usually tell if Derek was broodier than normal. From the stiff way Derek was sitting, something was definitely bothering him. There was only a two-year age difference between them, even though Derek seemed more mature at times—like he was an old soul who'd seen it all and had the cynicism to prove it. But also like a protector since Derek always seemed to be looking out for Stiles, even when it wasn't necessary.

Derek glanced briefly over his shoulder. "Yeah, just"—he sighed—"got some things on my mind."

Stiles sank down beside him and dangled his feet over the edge of the deck, mimicking Derek's posture.

"Wanna talk about it?"

Derek sighed again. "I know about your crush on me."

It was said so suddenly that Stiles tensed beside him, barely breathing. Fuck. His heart hammered in his chest, and he couldn't look Derek in the eye. This was it; this was the moment that would change everything. Stiles had imagined a hundred different scenarios, but he never expected Derek to bring it up first.

"I…I…" Stiles cleared his throat. "I'm sorry…if that makes you uncomfortable, I mean."

That was the last thing Stiles ever wanted. Derek was his best friend, one of the most important people in his life. The fear of ruining that was paralyzing.

"It doesn't," Derek said, turning to face Stiles with an intensity in his gaze that Stiles had never seen directed at him before. "It's just...I didn't know how to bring it up. Or what to do about it. I've been trying to figure out my own feelings. And they're not as straightforward as I thought."

Stiles was sure his heart skipped a beat, or maybe it stopped altogether. "W-What do you mean?"

Because there was no way Derek meant—

"I'm…I think I'm bi." Derek's confession came out in a rush, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it seemed to resonate with the importance of a shout in the quiet of the night.

Stiles felt like his entire world had just shifted on its axis. "You think or you know?"

"I know. I know I'm bi," Derek answered with more conviction this time.

Stiles's mind was racing, his previous worries suddenly replaced by a burgeoning hope that was probably reckless to entertain. Just because Derek was bi didn't mean he had feelings for Stiles.

"Well, that's—you know you can talk to me about anything, right? Like if you have questions or…" God, Stiles had no idea what he was saying. He just wanted to be there for his friend. To support him, regardless of how this might turn out because that was what friends did for each other. So, instead, he blew out a breath. "So, how did you—"

"Know?" Derek finished. "It was you."

Stiles's eyes went wide, his head snapping back to look at Derek.

Me? he wanted to ask, but it was as if speaking were a foreign concept. His mind couldn't wrap around a single word to utter out loud. All of this time, he'd been so wrapped up in his own feelings and fears that it had never occurred to him that Derek might be grappling with concerns just as considerable, perhaps even more profound. That Derek could be struggling with the same revelation about his sexuality, in part because of him. That maybe, just maybe, his feelings weren't unrequited after all.

"If I'm being honest, I've had… I've had feelings for you for a while," Derek admitted, looking away from him. His throat bobbed as his confession hung between them, tangible and heavy in the cool night air. Stiles could hardly believe what he was hearing. It was as if Derek had just presented him with the key to a door he'd been certain was locked forever.

"You…you have? For me?" Stiles stammered, his voice a mix of disbelief and cautious optimism. Derek nodded, finally turning to meet Stiles's wide-eyed gaze.

"Yeah. For you, Stiles. I just didn't know how to say it, and I was scared it would mess up our friendship." Derek's voice cracked slightly with the vulnerability of his admission.

"But…" Stiles frowned, confusion mingling with the sudden burst of elation that was threatening to overwhelm him. "You just said that you knew I had a crush on you."

Derek let out a humorless chuckle. "I thought you might, but I wasn't sure. Not until now. And I was worried about how it would affect everything. Our friendship, the group dynamics, our families..." Silence hung in the air for a moment before he continued, "You mean too much to me to risk it all on a maybe. I love you, Stiles."

Was Stiles dreaming? The possibility of Derek returning his feelings was something he had never let himself hope for; it was too painful to even contemplate. But he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that when Derek said he loved him, it wasn't just as a friend. There was something deeper in his words, a resonance that couldn't be faked. Stiles's breath caught in his throat, and for a second, he couldn't find his voice. When he finally spoke, every word was laced with emotion.

"It's more than a maybe, Derek. It always has been," Stiles said earnestly, his voice thick with the weight of his own confession. With shaky fingers, he was brave enough to reach out and cup Derek's face. "I love you, too. I always have, and I always will."

Derek shivered and angled closer. Stiles's pulse blotted out the sounds of the nearby party and people counting down.

"Stiles," Derek breathed out, his breath hitching as their foreheads touched. "Kiss me."

So Stiles did.

Derek made a sound in the back of his throat—part groan, part sigh—as Stiles's heart galloped wildly. He was so afraid Derek would change his mind and pull away that Stiles reached out, tangling his hand in Derek's shirt and holding him steady. When Derek's tongue flicked against his, Stiles's entire body came alive, and he understood what this kissing thing was all about. It was breathy and heart-stopping and amazing.

They kissed for a long time, Derek's warm fingers gripping his neck and Stiles's twisted in his shirt, only breaking apart to catch their breath before going back for more. His lips were firm, his tongue was soft, and Stiles wanted to live in this moment and never come up for air.

But eventually, he did, panting softly against Derek's mouth, their foreheads still pressed together, eyes still closed.

Derek's hand, still on Stiles's neck, slid up into his hair, a gesture so tender that it made Stiles's heart swell even more. They stayed like that for a while, just breathing each other in, until the chill of the night reminded him they were still outdoors.

"Let's go inside before you freeze," Derek murmured, his breath warming Stiles's face.

"Yeah," Stiles agreed, voice hoarse from their intense kiss. "But, uh, what do we—"

"Tell everyone?"

Stiles nodded, wondering how the others would take the news. If Derek even wanted everyone to know yet because he wouldn't just be announcing that they were dating, he'd be coming out, and that was huge.

"Well, first I'll probably tell them that I'm bi. After that…" Derek took Stiles's hand, lifting it and kissing his knuckles. "We'll tell them we're…boyfriends?"

It came out more as a question than a statement, and Stiles's heart beat even faster—if that was possible.

"Are you sure?" he asked, not wanting Derek to feel pressured into putting a label on things too quickly. "We don't have to—"

"I've never been more sure about anything." Derek met his eyes, his gaze clear and steady. "I want to call you my boyfriend and have the world know that I'm yours and you're mine."

It was a yes—a resounding yes that seemed to echo in the quiet that followed, and a wave of relief crashed over him, mingling with excitement and a touch of nerves.

"Okay then, boyfriend," Stiles said with a grin that lit up his entire face. "Let's go inside and figure out the rest together."

Hand in hand, they walked back into the house, their future unwritten but promising. This was the start of something new, something real, and Stiles couldn't wait to see where it would lead.

#sterek #sterekfestsmidnight #sterekfestswinter2023 #sterekfests #sterekweekly #sterekweeklypresent #sterekbingo #holy shit i wrote something

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another-lost-mc · 10 months

Text

RAPHAEL x gn!Reader, 0.8k words, nsfw. Content warnings: Marking/hickies. Possessiveness if you squint. A/N: Inspired by The RAD Vampire Club! Devilgram story.

“This looks fantastic,” you told Raphael as you stretched out your arms in the costume he made for you. It fit you perfectly, and you were genuinely impressed by the craftsmanship of his work. You didn’t expect he would put so much care into an outfit you were only going to wear for one night.

You were surprised when he invited you to Purgatory Hall earlier that week to confirm your measurements. You offered your approximate measurements over the phone, but he insisted he wanted to verify the numbers himself.

“Is that really necessary? I don’t want to waste your time.”

“It’ll be a bigger waste of time if what I make for you doesn’t fit. Who took your measurements?”

“…I did?”

It was embarrassing to think about—the way you twisted in front of the mirror, jotting down your measurements for him and hoping the entire time that the tape wasn't too loose or crooked as you awkwardly measured yourself. You tried your best and hoped that whatever he made would fit, at least.

But then he sighed into the receiver, and you guessed he was imagining how you managed to achieve the numbers you gave him, too. “Come over after dinner and I’ll confirm your measurements myself.”

That’s how you ended up in his bedroom in Purgatory Hall, wearing only your undershirt and underwear, perched on a stepping stool he grabbed from the kitchen he shared with his dorm mates.

You expected him to take your measurements quickly in the sitting room, and maybe he planned on that, until you both realized Solomon was reading on the sofa. Raphael sensed your apprehension and led you straight past the sorcerer and into his room instead.

Raphael’s intense focus while he worked was nerve-wracking enough—you didn’t want to worry about Solomon leering at your half-naked body.

Raphael worked quietly but quickly, drawing the tape measure across your limbs and around your torso. He was respectful, not touching you more than necessary, and you didn't notice his eyes roaming freely over so much exposed skin. You were surprised how comfortable you felt with him in such an intimate position, but there was nothing intimate about this. He was professional about it, and you tried to be too.

He scratched out numbers on the sheet of paper he brought with him—the one with the original dimensions you gave him—and he corrected all of them. He snickered under his breath when he came across one you had measured very poorly.

“Hey, I tried my best!”

He smiled when you crossed your arms over your chest and pouted. “You did, but I want you to look your best even if it’s for a silly party. Let me finish this for you and you can be on your way.”

When Raphael met you at the venue to prepare for the festivities, he handed you a zipped-up clothing bag. You put on the outfit excitedly and stepped out of the dressing room for his approval. He gave you an approving once-over, visibly pleased by how you looked in the costume he tailored specially for you. You were delighted—it was comfortable enough to move around in freely, but fitted enough to be flattering on your body.

He stepped closer to you and after a moment of scrutiny, he pulled a loose thread off your shoulder. “You look like a respectable vampire now. Your unsuspecting victims won't stand a chance.”

You admired yourself in the full-length mirror when he walked away and started tidying his supplies. “Are you coming to the party too?”

His reflection in the mirror shook its head. “I’m not sure I understand the appeal of blood-sucking, even if it's only pretend.”

“I’d let you try, if you're curious,” you joked, looking over your outfit one more time as you smoothed down the front of your jacket.

Your eyes shot back up when you felt something—someone—at your back. Raphael had moved behind you suddenly, and his bright eyes caught your gaze in the mirror. He pushed down the collar of your shirt—gently, so he didn't ruin the lace trim—and bent his head.

His hair tickled the side of your face when his lips brushed against the side of your neck. He hummed when you gasped, and he pushed down a little firmer with his mouth and sucked. He was careful enough so that it didn’t hurt, but there was no mistaking the hint of teeth that scraped your skin before he lifted his head and stepped back again.

“Perhaps I’ll see you the party after all,” he murmured, licking his lips as he turned away. He was out the door, closing it behind him with a decisive click before you could even respond.

You were frozen in place, overwhelmed by the tingling sensation radiating from your neck and the erratic heartbeat hammering in your chest. You leaned forward and stared at your reflection in the mirror. There was an unmistakable mark on your neck now, blooming purple just above your collar where everyone else would see it.

Taglist: @l-d-8 @mithrakira @your-next-daydream @xpixie @tortibomb @rensphilia @4allthefours4 @a-hidden-gem @beelsjuicytitties @goldenglow149 @callmesaya @alexxncl @sirimirihiro @i-am-empress-irish @angelsdilf @todothedodo

Join the taglist here. | Obey Me! Masterlist

#obey me raphael #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me x you #obey me raphael x reader #raphael x reader #obey me smut #omswd smut #raphael smut #obey me raphael x mc #raphael x mc #obey me raphael x you #raphael x you #obey me fanfic #x reader #gn!reader

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hesitant-angel · 3 months

Note

imagine being highschool sweethearts with mikey ☹️

being highschool sweethearts with mikey ! | mikey way x reader | gender neutral reader | (headcannons) |

★ I LOVE THE MIKEY REQUEST!! this is the sweetest thing im so glad u sent this anon because i literally think about this every single day. hes the loml trust me ! im unsure of how accurate this will but bare with me im learning! P.S. THANK YOU ALL FOR 20 FOLLOWERS!!!! i had so much fun writing this, as of right now i'd say mikey is my favorite to write for.

my masterlist

— Okay I have so much on my mind for this I don't even know where to start. I think of Mikey to be a quiet kid in highschool, not in a stereotypical way, but I feel like he'd focus more on getting through the day and getting his work done, focusing less on the social aspect.

— If you're also a quiet kid, you two would sit together any chance you get, you'd distance yourselves away from everyone else a bit to get lost in your own conversations about whatever you guys like to talk about.

— If you're more social, he'd probably follow you to whatever you're doing. He'd stay relatively quiet in most conversations, just listening, unless you prompted him to talk or introduced him to someone, then he'd do the polite thing and say hello and talk to them.

— People write Mikey as overally shy and nervous alot (like.. in the babying grown men way.) but I dont think he'd actually be that bad. I feel like he just takes a bit of time to adjust to talking to people and can be a little awkward at first. Once he warms up to you he's pretty laid-back and will talk with you about anything and everything you want.

— He'd claim that he 'isn't really interested in dating anyone' because he knew the whole thing about how highschool relationships typically never last, so he just tried to avoid it. That was until he met you of course.

— When he met you, his whole perspective on highschool and life in general changed. The more you two got to know eachother the more he fell head-over-heels in love with you.

— He'd definitely help you with homework if needed (and if he understood the class enough...)

— You guys would try and hang out after school to work on homework together but it just ends up being a two-hour period of you guys going on and on about the most random things before realizing that you haven't even started the homework. He'd eventually figure out a way for you guys to get work done but still get time to talk to each other.

— But it's not like you guys don't spend every minute you can together, people swear they can't see one of you without seeing the other. Of course, whenever one of you needs time alone its respected and you take breaks from eachother whenever necessary.

— You two compare music tastes and talk about music alot. Doesn't matter if you have different music taste than him, he wants to talk about it with you (even if he'll tease you a little about liking different stuff). If you have similar taste though, it'll definitely bring you closer.

— Movie nights are a big thing for him, he usually likes to pick the movie but he'll try and watch whatever you want, too. He'll explain parts of the movie to you if he can, he's a movie nerd and will tell you facts you had never heard of.

— If you're within walking distance from eachother (or one / both of you can drive) you two will come over and stop by whenever you can, even if it's just for a moment to say hi.

— You and Mikey meeting in highschool definitely made a big positive impact on your relationship in the future, you've changed eachother in small and big ways over the course of time and both of you agree that you're glad you met when you did.

* i tried my best with this i hope its okay! i really enjoyed writing these even if i was a bit repetitive and not proofread (im sleep deprived atm) , if anyone has any more ideas branching off of this plot please let me know! id love to make this an ongoing thing :)

#mikey way x reader #mcr x reader #my chemical romance x reader #my chem x reader #my chemical romance fanfiction #mikey way fluff #i love mikey way btw

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rottingpirate · 1 year

Note

Heyo! Can you write Alejandro with a male reader who's like flirty as fuck and Ale just ignores him and tries to fucus on work. And maybe at some point Alejandro flirts back? Maybe one of them gets hurt during a mission or somethiing like that?

Alejandro Vargas w/ flirty m!reader

Warnings: typical violence, blood, simping, a kiss nothing more

The mission was fairly easy– you had to get the intel and get out, easy enough, so that’s why only you and Alejandro are going — but as soon as Alejandro steps in, dressed in an outfit closer to something that makes him look like a otherworldly creation, he wore his usual tactical vest loaded with ammo and some knives attached, under the vest he had a black compression shirt and a pair of very tight looking cargo pants, which is different from the usual beige jeans he usually wore. A rifle on his back, a gun on his hip. You could perfectly see every muscle, curve and movement of his body, and fuck, it really messed with your brain. The man looked like Apollo, scratch that, better than any god ever.

“Should’ve also slicked your hair back, maybe some eyeliner to make those pretty eyes sharper.” You pointed out, eyes glittering.

Alejandro coughed to hide his laughter, sitting down and strapping in. “With all due respect, I think the hell not.”

He’s pretty, but shit, why do you need to notice those warm brown eyes , and that sharp jawline now. Is it necessary? You mentally curse at yourself. To say the least, you were more than a little distracted for the majority of the ride to your location.

As the plane begins to land, it jolts you out of your thoughts as Alejandro grips your shoulder. Looking slightly annoyed by how distracted you were the entire time. "Get your ass out of the clouds, L/N. We're here."

Immediately getting up and out of the plane. You stretched, taking a moment to appreciate the fresh air and the light breeze. The sun was already setting which made the view more appealing. Glancing around and then finally, squinting, you point to one of the buildings at the far end of the street. The buildings that you were supposed to go in. “There we go. C’mon, let’s go get it done with.” As you walk forward, you casually let your hand bump against Alejandros.

"This should be fast, in and out." He gripped the sides of his vest as he spoke.

Getting closer to the building, you begin to scope out where you’ll need to be once the bad guys arrive. You planned to enter by the main entrance, and see if anyone would be already waiting for you. Thankfully, no one was.

“It’s too fuckin’ easy,” You say, in a whisper. You’re following Alejandro, who’s leading the way. The hallway is dim and small, and you can’t walk side by side. “It’s almost suspicious.”

“Shut it, will you, please” He says softly, his tone contrasting with his words. You have been speaking for the past few minutes nonstop.

“Don’t you find it a little weird, love?”

Proceeding to ignore you, Alejandro was quietly moving up the stairs to check out the second floor, so you decided to take the first floor. You observed the surroundings for any sign of danger. "You see anything, Ale?" You said under your breath, making sure your senses were completely on point.

"Negative." Was the immediate response over the comms.

“Hey, cupcake. What do you say we go on a little trip after this huh?” You immediately cringe and curse yourself, putting a hand over your mouth. What was wrong with you?

“You asking me on a date, Sergeant?”

“If you want it to be a date, Colonel” A hopeless smile was tugging at your lips as you heard him sigh over the radio. You could imagine his tired expression and you were somewhat lucky he wasn't standing next to you, because he would've slapped some sense into you then and there.

“Fuck me. Assuming we’re not dead, then sure. You better buy me a drink." Alejandro groaned, amusement clear in his voice.

Fuck me, rolling your eyes and biting your lower lip. If you want, Alejandro. Fucking hell.

Before you could respond, you were cut off guard by movement that caught your eye. One person, you moved quickly, making sure he can’t see you. “Shit. We’ve got one here, gonna need you to cover for me, sir.”

“Copy, it’s gonna take me a bit though.”

You swear under your breath, tightening the grip on your AR10.

The guy didn’t look that strong, a bit shorter and smaller than you, but knowing you shouldn’t underestimate, you moved back behind the wall.

You move your rifle and set up for an angle. You bite yout lip as you fired a shot. You hear a small grunt of pain, got him.

You draw back, back pressed against the wall as you reload. About to take a step out to fire again, something compels you to turn around just in time to move as a butcher knife is set into your shoulder.

You let out a hiss of pain as your opponent stares at you, eyes filled with bloodlust, thrill and pleasure.

“Fuck, you wanna fuckin die?” you hiss out under your breath, and use the moment his eyes find yours to get a hit. He draws the knife back as he takes a few steps back. You grab him by his tactical vest, taking advantage of this position, throwing him to the ground like a ragdoll.

He’s quick to recover, quicker than you’d expect. He took hold of you by the injured shoulder and slammed you into the wall, almost as if like a baseball bat. He trapped you with a strong grasp, the air forced out of your lungs leaving you slightly wheezing. A scream made its way out of your mouth, as he plants the knife in your lower abdomen this time, twisting it. The breath crushed out of your ribs. A sharp hot pain in your body as your heart is pounding like a jackhammer. Your side burns like a son of a bitch. You need to check out how deep the stab is. That’s not good. Not fucking good at all.

“Does it hurt?” He asked. His voice came out as gruff, without looking up, you could hear the smirk in his voice. “I should’ve stabbed you right in the heart. Too bad I missed it.”

For a second, he got distracted by trying to find something in his pocket and you took that as a sign. You punched him in the gut and lunged forward, taking his knife, kicking him square in the stomach, and slicing the side of his face with the bloodied blade. A smile creeped on your face as his piercing screams filled the room. He dropped on the ground and watched as you stood there.

He doesn't have time to reach for your ankle before you’ve got your 9mm that was strapped to your hip and fired two shots straight in his head. And then a third one just to be cautious.

You stand there, letting your brain process everything that happened in these minutes. Your eyes gleamed with murderous intent, and sadistic pleasure.

Only a faint sigh came out of your mouth. Everything was growing dizzy and blurry. You can feel your legs giving out and you attempt to stumble back, but instead you just fall flat on the hard concrete floor. The cold, lifeless eyes of a man who you killed were looking back at you. You just stared back as you waited for Alejandro.

As you were beginning to close your eyes, you felt a pair of arms wrap around you. Jolting up, you pulled out your 9mm that rested next to you and pointed it to his face, ready to shoot whoever touched you.

“Whoa, easy now amigo.” Of course. Alejandro.

Alejandro brought his hand up to gently cup your face, brushing his thumb along your cheekbone. His slight worry turned to full blown concern once he saw the state of his partner, The entire right half of your face is bloody, and the blood’s smeared onto your shirt and face and very obvious and very painful bruises painted the skin. Alejandro studies the man further.

“Fuck, warm me next time..Could’ve shot that pretty face.” You breathed out, a smile barely visible in the unlit room.

“Calm down. I’m gonna try to stop the bleeding okay? But you’re gonna have to stay still for me.”

You go to respond but the pain hits you like motherfucker. You tried to hide it, but Alejandro was not easy to fool. You noticed the anxiety in his eyes and felt a little guilty. You can’t have him worried like this.

“Hey sweetheart, It’s okay. We have medkits on the plane. I'll live. ” You said with your best calm voice, flashing a small smile.

Quickly he searched his pockets for bandages. He didn’t know what he was doing, he knew that he should just wait till he gets an actual medkit.

You grit your teeth and try to temper your strangled groans of pain as he applies pressure to the wound before wrapping it. It fucking hurt. Though you didn’t need to move much since he was doing all the work, you couldn’t help from grimacing at the sharp ache. Each breath and muscle spasm caused a sharp sensation to shoot throughout your entire body.

Alejandro tightens the first bandage on your shoulder. It looked better, no new blood was oozing.

“My fucking knight in shining armor.” You murmured not particularly to anyone.

Alejandro leans back, a look of concern in his eyes. You take the moment to notice that he was also a little roughed up. His hair was messed up and a little cut on his left cheek, but not as bad as you. Fuck, small feeling of misery took over. Feeling pathetic, cause you couldn't easily take down one man when he probably took down three or five.

“You can’t die on me now. You promised me a date, remember?"

The date? he was serious about the date. Oh..

“Ale, you-” A small smirk forms on your face as he lifts your shirt to clean your abdomen from blood.

You suddenly grab his shirt, pulling him closer to you. Then, slowly, you close the distance, and with all the affection you could muster, pressed your lips lightly to his until you couldn’t remember the pain at all. You felt those lips, softer than anything you’ve ever felt before. Disappointment was an understatement when he pulled away, taken aback. Alejandro blinked once, twice, before he opened his mouth again.

“I have to clean up your wound, Y/N.” His voice was quiet, muffled. You've never seen the Alejandro Vargas this shy before and there was a little feeling of pride.

“Well, get on with it then, lover boy.”

He shakes his head, face heated as he tries to focus on your wound and not on your eyes that stared daggers back at him.

“Hey, I always wondered. Does your father happen to be a baker?”

Alejandro raised an eyebrow in confusion, throwing away a bloody cotton ball. “Uh, no. You know he's-” he was cut off.

“Because you look sweet as a damn cupcake.” You replied, giving him yet another grin.

#cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare ii #cod x male reader #alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas x male reader #alejandro vargas x reader #cod x reader

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