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fursasaida · 8 months

Note

Hi! Just wanted to ask. How can I give my students assignments that are chat-gpt proof? Or that they won't just copy the answer without at least doing some editing?

Hi! So, I don't think anything is ChatGPT-proof. You fundamentally cannot stop people from using it to take a shortcut. You can't even stop them from copying the answer without editing it. However, I think you can work with this reality. So, you can do three things:

Don't be a cop about it.

If you make your objective "stop the children from using the thing to cheat," you are focusing on the wrong thing. You will be constantly scrutinizing every submission with suspicion, you will be accusing people of cheating--and some of them will not have cheated, and they will remember this forever--and you will be aiming at enforcement (which is trying to hold back the sea) instead of on inviting and supporting learning whenever and wherever possible. (I'll come back to this under item 2.)

Regarding why enforcement is holding back the sea: It is fundamentally rational for them to do this. We, who "love learning" (i.e. are good at what our academic system sees as learning, for various reasons have built our lives around that, happen to enjoy these activities), see everything they might cheat themselves of by doing it, because we know what we got out of doing this type of work. Many students, however--especially at the kind of school I teach at--are there to get the piece of paper that might, if they're lucky, allow them access to a relatively livable and stable income. The things that are wrong with this fact are structural and nothing to do with students' failings as people, or (tfuh) laziness, or whatever. We cannot make this not true (we can certainly try to push against it in certain ways, but that only goes so far). More pragmatically, chatgpt and similar are going to keep getting better, and detecting them is going to get harder, and your relationships with your students will be further and further damaged as you are forced to hound them more, suspect them more, falsely accuse more people, while also looking like an idiot because plenty of them will get away with it. A productive classroom requires trust. The trust goes both ways. Being a cop about this will destroy it in both directions.

So the first thing you have to do is really, truly accept that some of them are going to use it and you are not always going to know when they do. And when I say accept this, I mean you actually need to be ok with it. I find it helps to remember that the fact that a bot can produce writing to a standard that makes teachers worry means we have been teaching people to be shitty writers. I don't know that so much is lost if we devalue the 5-paragraph SAT essay and its brethren.

So the reason my policy is to say it's ok to use chatgpt or similar as long as you tell me so and give me some thinking about what you got from using it is that a) I am dropping the charade that we don't all know what's going on and thereby making it (pedagogical term) chill; b) I am modeling/suggesting that if you use it, it's a good idea to be critical about what it tells you (which I desperately want everyone to know in general, not just my students in a classroom); c) I am providing an invitation to learn from using chatgpt, rather than avoid learning by using it. Plenty of them won't take me up on that. That's fine (see item 3 below).

So ok, we have at least established the goal of coming at it from acceptance. Then what do you do at that point?

Think about what is unique to your class and your students and build assignments around that.

Assignments, of course, don't have to be simply "what did Author mean by Term" or "list the significant thingies." A prof I used to TA under gave students the option of interviewing a family member or friend about their experiences with public housing in the week we taught public housing. Someone I know who teaches a college biology class has an illustration-based assignment to draw in the artsier students who are in her class against their will. I used to have an extra-credit question that asked them to pick anything in the city that they thought might be some kind of clue about the past in that place, do some research about it, and tell me what they found out and how. (And that's how I learned how Canal St. got its name! Learning something you didn't know from a student's work is one of the greatest feelings there is.) One prompt I intend to use in this class will be something to the effect of, "Do you own anything--a t-shirt, a mug, a phone case--that has the outline of your city, state, or country on it? Why? How did you get it, and what does having this item with this symbol on it mean to you? Whether you personally have one or not, why do you think so many people own items like this?" (This is for political geography week, if anyone's wondering.)

These are all things that target students' personal interests and capabilities, the environments they live in, and their relationships within their communities. Chatgpt can fake that stuff, but not very well. My advisor intends to use prompts that refer directly to things he said in class or conversations that were had in class, rather than to a given reading, in hopes that that will also make it harder for chatgpt to fake well because it won't have the context. The more your class is designed around the specific institution you teach at and student body you serve, the easier that is to do. (Obviously, how possible that is is going to vary based on what you're teaching. When I taught Urban Studies using the city we all lived in as the example all through the semester, it was so easy to make everything very tailored to the students I had in that class that semester. That's not the same--or it doesn't work the same way--if you're teaching Shakespeare. But I know someone who performs monologues from the plays in class and has his students direct him and give him notes as a way of drawing them into the speech and its niceties of meaning. Chatgpt is never going to know what stage directions were given in that room. There are possibilities.) This is all, I guess, a long way of saying that you'll have a better time constructing assignments chatgpt will be bad at if you view your class as a particular situation, occurring only once (these people, this year), which is a situation that has the purpose of encouraging thought--rather than as an information-transfer mechanism. Of course information transfer happens, but that is not what I and my students are doing together here.

Now, they absolutely can plug this type of prompt into chatgpt. I've tried it myself. I asked it to give me a personal essay about the political geography prompt and a critical personal essay about the same thing. (I recommend doing this with your own prospective assignments! See what they'd get and whether it's something you'd grade highly. If it is, then change either the goal of the assignment or at least the prompt.) Both of them were decent if you are grading the miserable 5-paragraph essay. Both of them were garbage if you are looking for evidence of a person turning their attention for the first time to something they have taken for granted all their lives. Chatgpt has neither personality nor experiences, so it makes incredibly vague, general statements in the first person that are dull as dishwater and simply do not engage with what the prompt is really asking for. I already graded on "tell me what you think of this/how this relates to your life" in addition to "did you understand the reading," because what I care about is whether they're thinking. So students absolutely can and will plug that prompt into chatgpt and simply c/p the output. They just won't get high marks for it.

If they're fine with not getting high marks, then okay. For a lot of them this is an elective they're taking essentially at random to get that piece of paper; I'm not gonna knock the hustle, and (see item 1) I couldn't stop them if I wanted to. What I can do is try to make class time engaging, build relationships with them that make them feel good about telling me their thoughts, and present them with a variety of assignments that create opportunities for different strengths, points of interest, and ways into the material, in hopes of hooking as many different people in as many different ways as I can.

This brings me back to what I said about inviting learning. Because I have never yet in my life taught a course that was for people majoring in the subject, I long ago accepted that I cannot get everyone to engage with every concept, subject, or idea (or even most of them). All I can do is invite them to get interested in the thing at hand in every class, in every assignment, in every choice of reading, in every question I ask them. How frequently each person accepts these invitations (and which ones) is going to vary hugely. But I also accept that people often need to be invited more than once, and even if they don't want to go through the door I'm holding open for them right now, the fact that they were invited this time might make it more likely for them to go through it the next time it comes up, or the time after that. I'll never know what will come of all of these invitations, and that's great, actually. I don't want to make them care about everything I care about, or know everything I know. All I want is to offer them new ways to be curious.

Therefore: if they use chatgpt to refuse an invitation this week, fine. That would probably have happened anyway in a lot of cases even without chatgpt. But, just as before, I can snag some of those people's attention on one part of this module in class tomorrow. Some of them I'll get next time with a different type of assignment. Some of them I'll hook for a moment with a joke. I don't take the times that doesn't happen as failures. But the times that it does are all wins that are not diminished by the times it doesn't.

Actually try to think of ways to use chatgpt to promote learning.

I DREAM of the day I'm teaching something where it makes sense to have students edit an AI-written text. Editing is an incredible way to get better at writing. I could generate one in class and we could do it all together. I could give them a prompt, ask them to feed it into chatgpt, and ask them to turn in both what they got and some notes on how they think it could be better. I could give them a pretty traditional "In Text, Author says Thing. What did Author mean by that?" prompt, have them get an answer from chatgpt, and then ask them to fact-check it. Etc. All of these get them thinking about written communication and, incidentally, demonstrate the tool's limitations.

I'm sure there are and will be tons of much more creative ideas for how to incorporate chatgpt rather than fight it. (Once upon a time, the idea of letting students use calculators in math class was also scandalous to many teachers.) I have some geography-specific ideas for how to use image generation as well. When it comes specifically to teaching, I think it's a waste of time for us to be handwringing instead of applying ourselves to this question. I am well aware of the political and ethical problems with chatgpt, and that's something to discuss with, probably, more advanced students in a seminar setting. But we won't (per item 1) get very far simply insisting that Thing Bad and Thing Stupid. So how do we use it to invite learning? That's the question I'm interested in.

Finally, because tangential to your question: I think there's nothing wrong with bringing back more in-class writing and even oral exams (along with take-home assignments that appeal to strengths and interests other than expository writing as mentioned above). These assessments play to different strengths than written take-homes. For some students, that means they'll be harder or scarier; by the same token, for other students they'll be easier and more confidence-building. (Plus, "being able to think on your feet" is also a very good ~real-world skill~ to teach.) In the spirit of trying to offer as many ways in as possible, I think that kind of diversification in assignments is a perfectly good idea.

#teaching #chatgpt #posting this on my first teaching day of the semester!#this is probably a lot longer than what you asked for but it is the answer i know how to give. hope something in it helps!

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thegnomelord · 5 months

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Hi! Could you do #15 with Ghost & FTM!Reader? I love your writing :D

Sure thing anon :D and thanks for the compliment lol, play the game HERE

Prompt: "Come here. Sit in my lap and tell me what you want."

CW:NSFW, Sub Bot Ghost, Dom Top FTM reader, riding, cockwarming, dom/sub, strap-on's, praise.

Simon went off to a mission. . .but he's not the one who come back.

It's Ghost that returns to you, loud footsteps ringing like gunshots outside your room, barely able not to take the door off it's hinges when he comes in. He stands in the doorway, on the proverbial line between here and back there; the scent of blood hits you before you even see him, blood on his clothes, on his body, on his soul (or what's left of it)

You continue writing your report, but move your eyes to meet his. The blood splattered across the bleach white of his mask turns the warm browns of his eyes dark like the head of a bullet, like the soil he'd been buried under, like the rot festering in his brain; Your first instinct is to comfort him, to get up and hug him, to hold him until your presence pushes life into his lungs, to let him claw your back and bite your shoulder because Ghost loves you with his teeth first but— no.

It's not what he needs right now.

"Come in, lock the door." You order, keeping your voice steady, firm, a bit bored even.

You write down a few more sentences in your report, ears straining to hear him follow your orders, the door locking, counting the steady 'thump's of his boots as he walks up to your desk. Neither of you talk, the silence broken by his staggered breathing; can't drown the world in blood without loosing your breath too.

"Strip." Your tone never changes, like this isn't abnormal for two lieutenants to do, like it's just another order, because he isn't a lieutenant right now. He's just another soldier.

He doesn't say a word, doesn't hesitate either, even the soft 'click's of belts and buckles turned harsh from how fast he undoes them. A little bit of care returns in the way he folds his gear, neatly laying the folded clothes on the edge of your desk. He stands before you naked save for the mask, dark eyes bearing down at you.

Beneath the scent of blood and sweat, there's the undoubtable smell of gunpowder and steel that had burrowed deep into his pores, his muscles rigid and jaw so tense you wouldn't be surprised if he'd chipped a tooth.

You finally look up, rolling back on your chair to create space between you and the desk. "Come here," You pat your thigh. "Sit in my lap and tell me what you want."

There's the slightest nod of his head before he's walking around your desk, Ghost's calloused hands grip your shoulders firmly as he settles on your lap, thigh thighs caging in your own, the chair creaking. He's a mountain of muscle on top of you and he doesn't attempt to ease the burden of his weight on you, he expects you to shoulder it as much as you expect him to give you all that's weighing down on him.

You tip your head back to look up at Ghost, gripping the armrests to keep yourself from touching him — you don't reward half-assed jobs. "Repeat my last order."

"Sit in your lap," Ghost says, rough, more teeth than tongue. "an' tell you what I want." His hands tighten on your shoulders as if he's trying to see how much pressure he needs to put before you break; a dog tugging on the leash.

"And?" You keep the discomfort from his grip secret, keeping a good poker face until he relents, his hands still firm but now holding you like the edge of a cliff than something he's destined to break.

". . .want you, sir." Ghost manages and you finally reward him, just a small brush of your fingers along his naked thighs feels like a hot knife carving through ice, painful and pleasant at once.

"Good," You hum, "Now, here's what's going to happen." The battlefield's uncontrollable, chaotic, unstable. Knowing what's going to happen will be good for him. "You'll go get my cock from the dresser, you'll put it on me, then you'll sit nice and pretty until I finish my reports." His eyes darken as you speak, "Any complaints?"

"Negative." He breathes out, body already starting to buzz. You motion for him to go and he does, walking across your office as you adjust the chair so you have a better way of writing with Ghost in your lap.

Ghost sucks in a breath when he finds the toy already attached to the harness, gripping it tightly in one hand and his heart flutters when his fingers don't wrap around it all the way. It's Simon's favorite one; Long and thick, never failing to make him feel so fucking full with the prominent curve it has, covered in artificial bumps to rub and tease his prostate with every breath or minute twitch, and a thick knot at the base to make sure he's not going anywhere.

It's Simon's favorite — Ghost couldn't give less of a fuck so long it's in him.

He pads back over to you, kneeling when you tell him to. You're slow and measured as you stand up, bracing your hands on his wide shoulders. "Put it on me." You hum, fingers scratching the back of his neck in reward when he does as he's told, careful with the strap like he is with his gear, tightening the belt until the large cock sits comfortably but firmly on you.

You sit back on the chair, grabbing the lube. "Hop up," Ghost is a little more eager this time, settling back in your lap. The 'click' of the cap opening sounds like a gavel. "Stay still and relax." You order, pouring a generous amount on your fingers and trailing down to circle around his hole. "Need you to tell me if it hurts, understand?"

"Affirmative sir," He says, tries to buck his hips into your hand to speed you up but you just grip his thigh until he realizes rushing you won't get him anywhere and he stills.

"Be good now," You circle his hole a few more times to smear the lube, pressing the pad of your finger against him and putting a bit of pressure without truly trying to penetrate him, just getting his body used to human sensations. A small ragged breath leaves him and you take it as your cue to push in, slow at first, only able to push to the first knuckle before he clenches down, unsure if he wants to draw you in deeper or push you out.

"Sir," He breathes out, resting his head on your shoulder, smearing the blood on his mask on your clothes.

"Relax," You remind him, waiting until his clenching walls cease trying to snap your finger off before pushing a little deeper. You repeat this song and dance a few more times until he's comfortable having your finger slowly fucking in and out of him, a nice flush across his chest.

"I'm going to add one more now." You say as you pull your finger out to pour more lube, hearing him bite back a groan by biting your shoulder as best he can. "And no biting," You huff, cooing softly when he stops what he's doing.

"Yes sir," He sighs, eyes fluttering shut as he feels you push two fingers into him. It's a bigger stretch than before, a bigger burn, and he relishes it. He pants, chest rising and falling rapidly with every thrust in and slow drag out, not even noticing that he's rock hard. You crook your fingers, lazily searching for his prostate and you know you find it when he actually moans, muffled as the sound is.

"There you go, good boy." Praising him softly you continue to stretch him up to four fingers, feeling him wrap his arms around your neck and resting his head on his forearm, panting softly in your ear and even giving you a soft grunt every time you graze his prostate.

His thighs are covered in lube by the time you're satisfied, his cock standing stiff at attention. You pulling your fingers out has him growling low in his throat, but you placate him easily with a firm grope of his thighs while you squeeze the rest of the lube on your strap.

"Now, you'll sit until I finish the reports, no more than an hour or two." You grip the back of his neck, making him look at you. "Can you do that, my strong man?"

"Yes sir." He breathes out, and even with the mask you can see a bit of your Simon coming back, the skin around his eyes flushed, pupils dilated.

"Good boy. Relax now." You guide the tip of your strap to his hole, letting him catch his breath before slowly pushing his hips down until the head slips past his rim. He shudders, swearing beneath his breath, his arms tightening around your head as he continues to slowly sink down the large strap.

He's panting by the time he's halfway down, the bumps on the thing lined in such a way that at least one is always pushing past his prostate, the tip spreading him apart further than your fingers can reach. You start taking pauses, letting his clenching walls get used to the large intrusion before pushing an inch more, going inch after inch like that.

Once only the knot remains Ghost has almost fully melted against you, the strap so big and stretching him so wide it demands his full attention, leaving the violent thoughts in his head nothing to hold on to. "Think you can take the knot?" You ask softly but firmly, brushing a hand down his arched spine to his stretched rim, feeling how taught it is.

"Yes," Ghost breathes out, burying his head into the crook of your neck. "Give it to me sir."

You grant him his wish, gently pushing his thighs down and tilting your hips up and it looks like it won't fit — then with a 'pop' the knot slips into him, tearing a loud nasally moan from him. It's insane but you swear you can feel him clenching around the strap, your hand settling on his stomach where the head of your cock is bulging his tummy, his cock leaking an endless stream of pre with how the bumps press against his prostate.

"Good boy," You praise him, groping and massaging his trembling thighs until he relaxes, fully relaxes, a long shuddering breath escaping his lungs. "Such a good boy, just sit and feel, alright?"

He hums in confirmation, slurring a 'yes sir' like he's drunk or sleepy. Even through the layers of clothing you can feel his wildly beating heart steadily slow from it's frantic beat to something calm, the pleasure and pain and everything melting away from his mind as his body finally registers he's safe. Safe to just be.

You keep your nondominant hand on his hip to keep him steady and still, brushing the surrounding skin with your thumb as you let him float in his head while you get back to your reports. . .

#Gnome's Prompt Game #cod mw2 #x reader #gnome correspondence #trinkets from the hoard #male reader #top male reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x male reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ftm reader #sub character #sub simon riley #cod modern warfare #cod x male reader #cod smut

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fictionalslvr · 6 months

Text

SYNOPSIS: After so many years together, Leon is insecure about his dad body.

PAIRING: Vendetta¡Husband¡Leon x Wife¡F¡Reader

WORD COUNT: 1.316k

WARNINGS: NSFW/SMUT. Kinda sub¡Leon. In front of the mirror, exhibitionism. Mentions os male anatomy, description of male anatomy. Jerking off, ect.

NOTES: Just needed to comfort this man, I'm trying to keep active and write more, even if i have a lot of ideas, I can't write.

That's what i got after days thinking about it, hope you guys like 🫶🏻 credits to creator of this bot for the plot idea.

FRISSON: (n.) A shiver of pleasure

The unique scent of the fritter on the pan is the first that comes into your nostrils by the morning, your eyes still fighting to stay open under that comfortable dim orange light of the sun coming from your windows. You can hear heavy footsteps on the wooden floor, knowing exactly that it is your dear husband, Leon, he’s walking to the kitchen you’re in, making breakfast for your kids and him.

It’s been weeks since your sexual life with Leon has been…vain. For some unknown reason, he’s been way too distant, especially after he’d stopped going to the gym. He would do it under lights off, or not even doing nothing to satisfy both sexual needs. These facts may be related but you can’t really put them together and understand what your husband is feeling to not share any moment of intimacy with you, who has been his wife for many years now. The heavy footsteps are overheard by two fastened little feets on the floor, along with giggles and an unheard chatter, that quickly is responsible for bringing a bit more joy to your lazy face. You knew that it was your kids coming to the kitchen as well.

When the two tiny bodies sat on the chair, they were looking at you, their eyes squinting as they both carried Leon’s smile.

—”Mommy! Good morning.” They sang in a choir, seeming almost essayed. You giggled, nodding your head along with their happiness so early on the day.

—”Good morning, my love.” This was Leon’s voice now. The phrase was stretched on his tongue as he sat down in front of the little girl and the boy.

—”Breakfast is almost ready. The two of you are already dressed in your uniforms?”

Both of the kids hummed together, already anxious to eat the food and start a new day at school.

When the two twins dashed out through the door and waved at both of you and Leon, going inside the bus and leaving for the day. You sighed when the bus faded into the street, a faint smile on your face as you saw Leon turning to go to the bed and read his every day newspaper.

You followed him, and found his body splayed on your shared bed, his lips pursed together and his squared glasses on. You’ve always found him adorable that way. With a soft chuckle, you crawled to the bed, planting some moist kisses all over his face, making him grumble about it under his teeths.

—”What got you so distant these days?” You murmured, voice full of concern as Leon looked at you, very confused.

—”Distant? What are you talking about?”

The newspapers are slipped to rest on top of his chest, Leon pushes his glasses off to lay them on the headboard next to the bed.

—”Yeah, I've noticed, Leon. You’re not even changing in front of me anymore. There’s something wrong?” One hand comes above his, your thumb caressing his skin to soothe him down while abroading the topic.

—”There’s nothing wrong.” He looked away, and you knew him way too good to know he’s lying.

—”Leon.” You insisted.

—”I’m telling you the truth.”

—”We’ve been together for thirteen years total. I know you’re lying.” Leon cursed under his teeths, and you heard his upset from you knowing him so well like that.

—”Fine. There IS something wrong.”

—”And can I know what it is?” Nuzzling closer to his body, you could feel his same scent as always, which you’ve always recognized him for. Your hands never stopped from soothing him down. After a couple of seconds in silence, he answers.

—”I’m not quite…comfortable with my body.”

—”What’s wrong with your body?”

—”It’s not the same as when you’ve met me.” He sighed in disappointment, kissing his own teeths to make any sound to not look so pathetic.

—”What’s the problem with that?” Leon felt as if you’re not understanding the situation, he took your hands and pressed them together, looking directly in your eyes.

—”My love, I'm not the same Leon. Not the same toned man that you’ve knew…i’m just pathetic now with this fucking…dad body.”

Your head fell unconsciously to the side, completely confused with his words. That’s not a single bit of how you saw Leon, and the only thing you wanted is that he saw himself the way you saw him. Leon was visibly frustrated with his own body, and you never saw him like this before in all those years together.

—”I don’t see any problem with your body, my love. In fact, it’s normal that you can’t keep the same shape after so many years.”

—”That’s because you didn’t saw my body yet, you wouldn’t understand.” Leon whispered, turning his body slightly to the side so you wouldn’t see his belly through the shirt.

—”You know I wouldn't judge you for that, my dear. Your body isn’t going to change my love for you.”

Just like the words were exactly his fear, his eyes dazed off at the same instant, perplexed. It’s like he’s been thinking you would leave him after seeing his body so differently.

—”You saw me in the worst moments, carrying your childrens with my body all swollen and sore. Why would I judge you from not keeping in shape?”

His lips pursed, he let your hands slip from his and faced the wall, still hammering that thought on his mind.

—”And I trust you, very much. I’m just…afraid, I guess..."

What you didn't expect was that a few minutes later, Leon would be splayed in the bed, legs wide open and head against your shoulder. His lips parted and let a few grunts leave from them, which is now swollen from biting them so much as he does.

The best way to show him how much you appreciate him completely, was to show through your eyes. So you planted him in front of the mirror, body pressed against yours as your hands were moving alongside his tummy, unconsciously sliding even way more down to underneath his boxers. His eyes were fluttering, almost fighting to stay open as your free hand held his chin.

—"Look in the mirror, Leon. I want you to see how handsome you are." He squirmed on your hand, you felt the way his breath hitched in between his teeths.

Leon looked straight, trying his best not to close his eyes. But the waves of shock that your fingertips on his skin are sending to him, are hard to handle. He felt vulnerable nonetheless, but the pleasure was undeniable.

—"Slow…slow down." The blonde man hissed when your naughty hands found the way to his already erect penis, only enough to squeeze the swollen tip, knowing so damn well that would send him over the edge.

And just as you thought, it did. A single touch, and Leon was down bad for you. His head fell back into your shoulders, his throat letting a loud lewd moan slide out. He was really sensitive after weeks without not even seeing your body properly, and he dreamed about being touched this way by you again. Even if he wanted, the insecurities were munching on the back of his mind, even though he's very happy you noticed his abrupt change of mood and are now trying to put some senses into his mind.

—"I don't want you to ever doubt yourself anymore. You're handsome, and I love…Every. Single. Inch. Of. You." Syllabically speaking, each word was a kiss on his neck, only to keep him way more desperate than he already is. —"Did you understand?"

—"Y-Yes! Yes…,yes I did, ma'am." His voice lowered an octave, he was already so needy for you that he can't even think straight. You flooded his mind with thoughts of you, giving no space for the insecurities — At least for a long time.

#fanfic #fictionalslvr #smut #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon x fem reader #leon x reader #leon x you #leon kennedy smut #leon smut #leon resident evil #resident evil vendetta #vendetta leon #re vendetta

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givemefevrr · 12 days

Note

can you write something for hee being a subby little bot begging to be allowed to c0me inside you for once while you ride him pleaseeeee 🫶🏾 after seeing ur sub jake posts, i NEED NEED NEED to see how you'll write subby hee

feel free to change up the plot however you see fit

thanks pookers 😻

Don't Play With Me... Ruin Me (NSFW)

Pairings: sub!Heeseung x dom!reader

Warnings: explicit sex, breeding kink, edging/orgasm denial, praise kink, squirting, slight mommy kink, nipple play, mild degradation, overstimulation, belly bulge, pet names (baby, good boy, Princess)

════════ ⋆★⋆ ════════

You’re in control, on top, straddling Heeseung's hips, your hand tight around his cock. He’s so needy, entirely at your mercy, so vulnerable and eager to take anything you'll be willing to give him.

"Stop squirming." You lightly grip his chin with your fingers. Obediently, listening to your every command, he stilled as best as he could.

"Good boy, Heeseung," you purred, releasing his cock and running your hands through his hair gently. "You're such a good boy for me, aren't you?"

Heeseung's breath hitched at your words, his eyes glossy. He loved being praised, especially by you.

"Am I?" he whimpered, his voice trembling.

"Of course you are," you coo, the hands in his hair now cradling his face. "Say it. Say you're my good boy, baby."

His face flushed, and his gaze on you faltered. Heeseung shook his head slightly in embarrassment. He always refused to compliment himself despite the fact he could quite literally cum from you calling him pretty.

"Hm? Maybe you aren't, then," You give him a teasing pout, your soft, proud expression dropping in disappointment. The boy lets out a needy whine, accidentally bucking his hips to seek friction. "See? Now you're not following any of my directions."

You could see his lip quivering at your words, his gaze finally back on you. "N-no," Heesueng whimpers, looking up at you desperately. "M' sorry," he apologizes, trembling.

You look at him, unconvinced. "Mm, I don't think you are sorry, though. You're being bad right now. If you weren’t, then you wouldn't behave like this, would you?"

Heeseung whimpered again, the arms wrapped around your waist tightening as he shoved his face into your chest, which was still covered by your bra. You felt his body tremble as he breathed shakily on your skin.

"No, no, please don't say that," he persisted quietly. "M' not bad, I'll do anything for you, anything you want. I promise…"

You could feel his chest shuddering against you, a tell-tale sign that Heeseung was on the verge of tears. So you pushed him off of you slightly, seeing the tears almost brimming in his eyes. You softened the teasing a little bit so as not to make him cry just yet.

"I know you will," you smirked, trailing your fingers down his chest. "That's why I chose you, baby."

"Will you touch me? Please?" He whispered, biting his lip in anticipation, desperate. He looks at you with wide, pleading eyes, his hands gripping onto the sheets beneath him.

You can't resist his pleading, and so you lean down to kiss him, your fingers moving down his chest to work his cock as your other hand cups his face. He moans into the kiss, his body arching up towards you as he gives himself over to you completely.

"Remember to stay still, okay?" You take pity on him, placing your hands on his chest to steady yourself and slowly rocking back and forth on Heeseung's lap, making sure to brush your panties against the head of his cock. He nods, his eyes glazed with desperation as he looks up at you.

His face twitches with small sounds and expressions of almost struggle, but ultimately, he can keep his body movement to a minimum. He mewls, biting his lip as you grind down on his lap a little harder, and you gasp slightly at the stimulation of your clit through your panties.

Proud of his obedience, you wrap your hand around him, feeling his slickness as you start to stroke him slowly, quitting your relentless targeting of his sensitive tip for now, earning a breathy moan from him, his face relaxing slightly.

"There you go," you murmur, leaning down to kiss his lips again. "See how good it feels when you listen to me? When you're obedient?" But you knew he didn't need you to reward him by touching him–praising him would've been enough, and he would revel in it for hours.

He nods again, his eyelids fluttering as his mouth hangs open slightly. He's so sensitive and responsive already–but when is he not?

"So needy," you scoff, increasing your pace and feeling his body tense under your touch.

"Please, use me," he begged frantically, looking up at you with glossy eyes, his hips twitching beneath yours. "I want you to feel so good.. Please, I-I just want to make you happy," he whimpers, his voice shaky and desperate.

"Yeah? Want me to use you like a stupid little toy?"

He nods for the nth time, his eyes squeezing shut as he gets closer and closer to his release.

"Y-yes," Heeseung arches into his hand, which he brings to his chest to play with one of the buds. "P-please, I think I'm close," he gasps, barely audible through his panting.

He doesn't even pick up on the evil grin that forms on your face as soon as he mutters those words, and you wait a few more seconds before taking your hand away from his cock abruptly once again, leaving him on the edge.

Heeseung choked out a small, whiny "no.." his breathing was so heavy that it took a couple moments to calm. And by then, he's practically begging for your touch back.

"I thought you wanted me to feel good," you remind him, your tone teasing. "For me to use you. Isn't that what you said?"

He sits back against the headboard, and his words are a jumbled mess as he tries to form a coherent response. "Y-yes, but– but– I–"

You shut him up by leaning forward to gently kiss his lips and his eyes follow your lips before looking back up at your eyes desperately, his breathing quickening again–and you grin, knowing you have him exactly where you want him.

As he catches his breath, he waits for your next move, waiting for you to just do something.

You can see the anticipation in his eyes, waiting for your next move, for you to just do something. And you do.

You move your panties to the side before gripping his cock, positioning him at your entrance, teasing the tip of his cock against your wet folds, watching him squirm under you.

His hands flinched at his sides, hesitating to grab onto your hips.

"You want this?" you smirk, pausing your movement momentarily.

He nods frantically, his eyes pleading for you to take him in, to consume him completely.

"Yeah?" You cooed down at him. He nodded again, and your expression darkened slightly. "Well, it's not about what you want, is it?"

You slowly sink down into his cock until he is fully buried inside of you, your walls stretching to accommodate his girth. Heeseung's head falls back against the headboard with a whine.

He was almost frozen for a couple of moments, his body tensing up as he felt the warmth of you tight around his length–so, so sensitive. You guys have fucked so many times, yet every time it's like he's a virgin all over again.

"Fuck, you're so perfect. Always feels so good." you praised, feeling his cock twitch inside of you at your words. You start to move your hips in a slow and steady rhythm, earning a strangled noise from Heeseung.

"Oh, god—" Heeseung whispers, almost like a prayer. His voice cracks slightly, and his eyes shut tight as you move, his hands finally moving to grip your hips.

"Does it feel good, baby?" you ask, keeping your voice low and sultry, knowing it drives him wild.

He can't even form a coherent sentence at this point, just babbling out nonsense as he writhes under you. "Mhm," he manages to get out between moans.

But you're not really interested in his pleasure just yet. You chuckled, leaning down to capture Heeseung's lips in a kiss. "You feel good too, Princess."

Heeseung let out a whimper, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "Princess...I-I like...that," he babbled, pathetically.

Of course, he did. It was his favorite childhood nickname, and it always made him feel pretty and soft.

With one hand still gripping his shoulder, you reached for his hand and placed it on your tummy. "Feel that, baby? That's all you," you purred, pressing his hand against the bulge that formed every time you sank down on him. You're so big inside me, filling me up so perfectly."

His gaze focused on your hands, unable to look away, his forehead pressed against yours. His hand shakes against your skin, his body going tense before shuddering, a moan wracking through his whole body.

He gulps thickly, choking out, "I-I'm gonna cum."

But you won't let him. Not yet. So you slow your movements, causing Heeseung to whine in frustration. "I'm not done with you yet. You haven't made me finish yet. That's what you wanted, hm?"

"Please," he begs, his lips trembling against yours.

But you shake your head, a smirk on your lips.

"No," you say. "You're going to wait until I say so. You're mine to use, remember?"

Heeseung's face twists into a slightly pained expression, his body trembling with frustration and arousal. He knows begging won't do anything, so he just sits there whining.

Once you've decided it's safe to move again, you resume riding him, teasing him with slow, deliberate movements.

Heeseung pressed his face into your chest, planting kisses on your skin, his hands moving up your back, fumbling with your bra. He finally unlatches it, his mouth immediately latching onto one of your nipples, sucking it intently.

His wide eyes look up at you as his arms wrap tighter around you, clinging to you, his breath coming out in short, whiny gasps.

You sigh in pleasure. "So pretty," you praise, reaching for Heeseung's hair, arching into his touch, moving faster on his cock, his headboard creaking against the wall.

Heeseung's hips buck up at your words, and he's so fucked out he can't even manage to beg for forgiveness.

"M' sorry," is all he can manage, his words muffled against your skin.

His whines and moans vibrating into your skin feel so good, and you can't help but clench around his cock, letting a whimper fall from your lips. You fuck yourself faster onto him, trying to bring yourself to release the familiar feeling in your core, tightening by the second.

Heeseung cries out, his face burying into your skin with desperation. "Please, please, slow down. It's too much," he gasps.

But you don't, you can't, your hips moving in a steady rhythm, using him for your own pleasure. "I'm so close, j-just take it, hm? Take what I give you."

"Mommy, please," he suddenly whined into your skin, earning a low chuckle from you. When 'mommy' starts to get thrown around, that's when you know he's really gone.

"I know," you said, your voice husky with desire, "Just hold on for a little longer. Wait for me, then you can. Wait for me, be good."

The boy whimpers, mumbling into your skin, spacey, "P-please, I’ll be so good for you,"

A slight laugh makes its way into your moans and pants at his response. "Yeah, that's right. My good fucking boy, always making me feel so good. S-shit–"

You feel yourself starting to tip over the edge, the pressure building until you finally can't hold back any longer. Your cunt clenches tightly around Heeseung's cock, crying out in pleasure as you squirt all over him.

You hear his needy sounds in the background as you continue riding him through your orgasm. Heeseung's back arches as you grind down against him, his moans turning into pleads.

"N-now can I?" he asks politely.

“Of course, Princess,” you comb through his hair.

Luckily, you don't get overstimulated easily, so you can keep bouncing on Heeseung's cock, wrecking him. In the aftershocks, your walls are still clenching every couple of seconds, making Heeseung lose his mind.

"M-mommy, please.. wanna cum inside you," Heeseung begged, his voice breaking as he got closer and closer to release. He knew it was against your rules–that he wasn't allowed to cum inside you, mostly due to the clean up hassle. But he couldn't help himself; he just wanted to feel the tight walls around him as he filled you up.

"Hmm, I don't know. You're usually not allowed to do that," you taunted, lifting his face out of your chest and holding his cheek with your palm.

"N-need it, please–" his words were cut off by a high, desperate moan. "Please, just– just this once."

Finally, you gave in and whispered, "Alright, baby. Knock me up—breed me.”

And with those words, Heeseung's hips snapped forward, and he came with a sob. He came so hard and for so long that it felt like it would never end.

Heeseung's hips bucked upwards, and he came with a loud cry, his body shaking as he released inside you. It felt like Heeseung was cumming forever, the edging finally being released.

You could feel his cum overflowing from your cunt, hearing it dripping onto the sheets. He was practically crying, babbling incoherently about how good it feels, his breathing heavy and uneven, still clinging to you.

════════ ⋆★⋆ ════════

#enhypen #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen smut #smut #heeseung enhypen #sub heeseung #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #lee heeseung #enhypen heeseung #overstim kink #edging and denial #dom reader #praise and degredation #givemefevrr #givemefevrr blog

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finalgirllx · 7 months

Text

Mattheo Riddle Headcanons

From someone who only recently got into him. I could be wrong, since I can't trace back his roots much. Some of these are inspired by other writings, Marcus Lopez in Deadly Class, and my own bot usage.

I wrote this in about 5 minutes. Just a warning.

Mattheo is, of course, reserved around those he isn't close to. He tends to act cold, and will go as far to make himself seem threatening if he feels like it (whether that's actually true or not is your interpretation).

If he does something kind for someone without being asked, he prefers to let it go unmentioned. "Thanks for getting that for me." "Yeah, yeah, If you tell anyone, I'll kill you."

Scorpio, Scorpio, Scorpio! This is the one time I'll assign my star sign to a character because it fits him so well, along with his face claim being a Scorpio as well.

Mattheo loves The Smiths. There is no arguing there. This is definitely Marcus inspired, but it is just so nice.

He wears black almost exclusively. It is just his go-to and fits his general vibe. If he must, he'll go for a neutral-toned checkered flannel or jean jacket when it gets cold.

Mattheo has immaculate handwriting. Like, people look at his work and can't help but stare because they're surprised at the quality of it.

He drinks black coffee in the mornings, and that's it.

Does get into a lot of fights. And he wins all of them. However, unlike what others may think, he tries to give someone a chance to out themselves from a potential fight before he goes in.

Loves the horror genre. He talks up paranormal horror as the superior subgenre but will sit down and enjoy just about any kind.

He is a Resident Evil fan (Resident Evil 1 came out in 1996, so this is for slightly more modern au's).

His closest friends are Theo and Blaise, but he gets along well with Enzo and has an okay relationship with Draco.

He is knowledgeable and a strong critical thinker but doesn't care much about academics. Besides Defense Against The Dark Arts, he is really talented at Potions.

'Claims' people. His icy demeanor is rather tough to break; once he lets you in, it's like a switch is flipped, and he's more possessive and protective than anyone could've anticipated.

Has a mean jealous streak. This has been known, lol.

I think he prefers cats - but honestly, I see him being hesitant towards pets. He is still sweet toward them and would be a love bug with a pet of his own, but I can see a pet approaching him, and he wouldn't know what to do at first, haha.

Mattheo is sarcastic to his core. Shows his affection through teasing. But he can be quite serious and good at knowing the right words to support someone when needed.

Slight NSFW implications - incredibly dominant, and there's nothing you can do to change my mind that's not his preferred mode 99% of the time.

To see Mattheo's sweet side is a real treat, but he keeps that part for whom he adores the most.

His love language is physical touch and its not even close. If he falls for you, he'll always make sure to be touching you in any way that is possible at that instance.

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle headcanon #slytherin boys #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #benjamin wadsworth

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redr0sewrites · 2 months

Note

I’m obsessed with your hazbin stuff rn it’s incredible

idk how much you could write for this but you write a bit about sub vox after you finish fucking him. so basically just vox aftercare. I don’t think he’d be super into non-sexual touch but I think while in subspace/while coming out of it he would be super clingy and touchy.

I’ve been thinking about taking care of a fucked out vox for a while and I’m obsessed with the image.

thank you in advance and have a nice day <33

YESSSSS!!!! im a huge sucker for aftercare ♥️

🥀Cw: fluff, aftercare, mentions of smut but nothing explicit, bathing

listen, no matter what type of sex yall are having, whether its rough and fast or slow and soft, vox always ends up exhausted

after subbing vox is always clingier than usual, but he's also a lot more emotional than usual

wipe off his tears, wait for him to calm down and just let him cling to you before even starting the aftercare process

vox just needs to be held for a few minutes as he slowly begins to become slightly coherent

i don't see him as the type to want to talk much after sex, he'll mumble a little request or an "i love you" here and there but thats about it

vox pretty much melts into your touch, and he wants you to take care of him

he very rarely feels taken care of, and hes so stressed out most of the time that it just feels very foreign to him

when it comes to actually cleaning up after sex, vox is normally still too deep into subspace to do much

hes always overstimulated, and will def glitch out when you wipe off his thighs and clean him up

vox loves the intimacy of just laying back while you wash the slick off his thighs with a warm towel, pressing soft kisses to his screen and praising him as he comes out of subspace

he needs your praise and reassurance, especially when you were rough or mean to him

he'll try to be nonchalant and ask you if you really meant all the degrading things you said, but you can tell that vox's genuinely insecure about what you think of him

praise him and tell him you're so proud of him, tell him how he took you so well and how he's your good bot

vox is too incoherent and embarassed to reply but he clings a little closer to you and his screen flushes to a warmer pink

a lot of the time vox's claws will rip up the sheets and blankets, he feels bad about it but he can't control it in the moment so he'll try to help you out with setting the bed even though his legs are shaking and he's still barely coherent

PLEASE just shush him and tell him you can handle it, then run him a warm bath

considering vox is rich af ur bathtub is def big enough for the both of you, and he enjoys just laying with you in the warm water

he likes to admire all the marks you give him in the mirror, he adores seeing the hickeys and scratches on his skin

like i said he's not much of a talker after sex but he doesn't mind listening

he'll play with your fingers or trail his hand up and down your arm as you talk to him about your day

when you're both all cleaned up and relaxed, i think he'd (secretly) like it if you dressed him

theres something so intimate about you buttoning up his night shirt, giggling and pressing kisses to his screen as he pouts at you

vox pulls you on top of him when you guys are cuddling so that he can wrap his arms around you!

by this point he's def more coherent and out of subspace so he's not as clingy, but still wants your touch (if that makes sense lmao)

like he's too prideful to cling to you or ask you to hold him but really wants to be held

he'll pout when you spoon him but the fact that he practically melts into your touch betrays his true feelings

vox sleeps like the dead after being fucked and mornings after sex are the few mornings he actually sleeps in

overall, post sex vox is a side thats much softer than usual, and truly shows how much he loves and trusts you

pushing through these long ass work days yall- tmrws my last day so i'll be posting more next week!!!!!!! i need to write more fluffy stuff w vox its come to my attention that i literally only write nsfw for him 😭

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pinkanonwrites · 6 months

Note

HEHEHE I LOVE THE RODIMUS STORYY I'm obsessed with all the first contact au stories with rodimus and I would love if you could please do more if you ever feel like it 😭 the ones with language barrier and size difference are muah 🤌💫

If youre ever up for it or would feel comfortable, would you be willing to please write one where maybe the reader is sick with the flu and is either about to or actually does throw up and rodimus has no idea what the flu is or what throwing up is for humans and he has no idea how to deal with it 😅 and ofc the human can't explain bc language barrier.

Or any other rodimus with lil human stuff you can post I will happily gobble up hehe

I liked this idea too much for it to just be in bullet points, so it turned into a mini fic. Hope you enjoy!

Rodimus/Reader First Contact AU, Human Reader, GN Pronouns, Sickfic, emeto mention

Gazing blearily up at the ceiling as fluorescent lighting above whizzed past, you couldn’t fully tell if the nauseating pitch and wave of your surroundings was just from your sickness, or if panic was making Rodimus significantly less gentle than usual. Either way, if you had anything left in your stomach you probably would have thrown up again by now.

How foolish you were, to assume that being on an interdimensional traveling spaceship meant you would be less likely to suffer from the illnesses and maladies that you would normally find on Earth. No, now you were subject to an entire galaxy’s worth of potential contractible ailments instead. And though you could compare this one to some of the worse stomach viruses you’d had throughout your life back home, you didn’t really have a way to communicate to Rodimus that you weren’t, in fact, dying. No matter how much it felt like you were.

The hiss of a hydraulic powered door was almost drowned out by your caretaker’s panicked boops and screeches as he ran up to another one of the bots aboard the ship. A black helm and a shoulder-mounted cannon stepped into your nausea-warped vision, and a familiar gleam of a single, blue lens stared down at you. One of the scientist bots, the nicer one of the two that had poked and prodded at you when Rodimus first presented you to them. His name was… Perceptor?

But when he reached out a giant metal finger to you, Rodimus was quick to pull you back against his chest and out of the other’s reach. A kind gesture, but one that left you nearly gagging from the sudden wave of vertigo that racked your system. You winced at the feeling of Rodimus’s thumb brushing your cheek, the sticky pull of sweaty skin against hot metal, and the warble he let out in response sounded absolutely heartbroken. Through your hazy vision you could see tense corners of his mouth pull down, the soft glow of his eyes looking dimmer than usual as he cradled you. Then, with as much care as he could muster, he laid you so delicately upon Perceptor’s desk. His fingers stroked the top of your head, hands still bracketing you as if he was afraid you’d slip through his fingertips and right off the edge of the table as soon as he let his guard down. Despite everything, you couldn’t help but feel safer knowing he was worried about you. It was hard to imagine many worse scenarios than getting sick in outer space, but getting sick alone in outer space seemed pretty high up there.

So you let yourself be gently prodded at and scanned by Perceptor, Rodimus’s hands never straying far enough for you to not reach him. They murmured back and forth to each other all the while, a chittering of mechanical whirs and buzzes like an old fax machine pumping out a distant message. The chill of the metal surface under your back left goosebumps crawling up your skin, another detail that quickly drew Perceptor’s curiosity. After an amount of time you couldn’t possibly have estimated with your sickness-addled, swimming mind working at less than half the capacity of usual, both bots leaned away from the table to discuss something, like they were afraid you’d somehow overhear.

The sudden, harsh glow of the ceiling lights above left you squinting, a soft whimper escaping your throat despite yourself. Immediately Rodimus was upon you again, his giant chin resting on the edge of the table as his eyes flitted about over your shaking, exhausted frame. His hands hovered around you, fingers tense like he wasn’t sure if he should pick you up or not. But the warmth of his massive hands was a lot more comforting right now than the sterile chill of the tabletop, so with a great amount of effort you wormed your way back into his grasp.

Perceptor let out another, stern sounding buzz. Rodimus brought you back to his chest, resting your cheek against the smooth slope of metal as he responded in kind. You let your eyelids flutter shut as they continued to chatter. Whatever they were talking about didn’t really matter to you right now. Regardless of whatever was going on, you knew Rodimus would take care of you.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“And it’s not atrophosia? You’re sure?”

“Just because atrophosia comes from organics, Rodimus, does not mean they can contract it. No, what we’re looking at seems to be some form of organic virus.”

“That’s good, right?” Rodimus peeked at Perceptor from the corner of his optic, unwilling to take his full attention off of you for too long. Your little frame was sprawled weakly across the scientist’s desk, organic coolant and these strange, microscopic bumps beading across your body. Perceptor let out a curious hum, lifting your tiny servo up with the tip of his pen. Rodimus stifled the urge to slap it away. “If it’s a virus, it can be removed, right?”

“It’s not quite that simple. Organics don’t have accessible coding to allow ourselves entry. Their only solution is the old fashioned way, get plenty of recharge and wait it out.”

“But look at them! They’re all shaky and covered in coolant! A-And just earlier today, they purged their tanks!”

“That’s a good thing. Organics will purge their tanks as an emergency reflex to intrusive disease or illness. There’s actually a fascinating organic, a form of amphibian which can expel their entire tank when in-”

“Great! Cool! Love the fun facts, Perceptor! But are they-” And here Rodimus gestured to your small, shivering frame, “-going to be okay?”

“I’ve acquired some information on human illness- from Swerve of all bots, if you’d believe it. When humans are ill they require copious recharge, plenty of clean, desalinated water, and, apparently, a fuel comprised of the boiled carcass of an Earth bird and various edible flora.”

“I don’t have any Earth birds! Earth has the Earth birds!” Rodimus sat up with a jolt, a bristling wave of heat rolling off of his frame that was swiftly ignored by Perceptor.

“I am certain the replicator could produce a suitable substitute. It has worked for providing nourishment thus far.”

Both bots’ attention snapped back to you when you let out a small whine, squinting under the blaring light of the overhead systems.

“Oh, hey, I’m sorry bud!” Rodimus’s voice dropped to a soft coo as he hovered his servos back around your frame. “Is it too bright in here, your optics sensitive?”

“Perhaps it would be good for the human to rest here, where they can be monitored. You have other duties aboard the ship, after all.”

“Yeah, but…” Rodimus stared as you dragged yourself across the table, curling weakly into the crook of his servo with a soft sigh. He cradled you again, letting you rest your helm upon his chassis as he supported you with both arms. “I- I think I’ll keep an optic on them. What if being in here makes them nervous? Then they can’t recharge properly.”

Perceptor let out a soft huff, pinching the bridge of his olfactory ridge between two digits. “...Whatever you insist, Rodimus. But do allow them to rest. No joyrides.”

As Rodimus looked down at your frame in his arms, for once, joyriding was the last thing on his mind.

#transformers #transformers x reader #rodimus #rodimus x reader #rodimus imagines #maccadam #g/t #my writing #mtmte

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yameoto · 5 months

Note

OMG I JUST SEEN YOUR CHARACTER LIST THAT YOU WRITE FOR CAN YOU PLEASE GIVE SOME GHOSTFACE SAM X READER RELATIONSHIP HEADCANNONS 🤍

SAM CARPENTER GHOSTFACE HEADCANONS ! and yes i do have a bot for this.

✗ warnings ; murder, controlling behaviour, manipulation, general ghostface girlfriend toxicity. nsfw at bottom dom/sub. marking, knife!kink, free-use ment

protectiveness dialled to the MAX. if you think she was bad before its nothing compared to now. and i mean kill-people-who-look-at-you-the-wrong way type of bad. "oh, don't even worry, baby. i took care of it."

she has to be near you at all times; scratch that—has to be TOUCHING you at all times. seriously cant stand it when you're not wrapped around her fucking koala and will make it everyone's problem.

would never ever EVER hurt you. she hurts people for you—no matter if you want her too or not. besides, she has other ways of keeping you quiet.

when she took off the mask she wasn't even the slightest bit worried, as fucked up as that sounds. she knew you'd never leave her; you love her too much, she loves you too much. how could you ever give her up? she did this all for you.

calls you "doll" or "angel" almost exclusively—but not just that. you're her doll, you're her angel—her own precious little thing and you're never gonna leave her, okay?

but one can never be too sure; so she isolates you from all your friends to make sure you really can't leave. controlling to the point where if you lived with her you wouldn't be able to leave the house without her. but that's okay—she's doing it because she loves you. she's protecting you.

because she's off her meds she starts to see billy more and more, and she won't take them no matter how much you beg her too. sometimes you wake up to her see her sitting up staring blankly at the wall, eyes slightly glazed-over as if she's seeing something that's not there and it scares you too fucking pieces. it'll happen sometimes in public, too, like when someone gets a little too touchy with you or even, sometimes, when you get on her nerves ; which is definitely the most terrifying one.

(he's telling her to make you hers. telling her to take you for herself and leave a bloody fucking mess in her wake. whoever the fuck thinks they could ever take you from her is in for nasty, gory surprise.)

you're her anchor point. you're the only one who can ever calm her down if it gets too much. and you can tell, too, when chad's just running his mouth a bit too loudly and her hand is twitching towards the butcher's knife on the counter and you have to twist round and cup her cheeks, pepper kisses to her lips and she just melts — all potentially murderous urges forgotten as she wraps your arms around you.

nsfw !

so fucking handsy. CANNOT keep her hands off you. has the annoying tendency to squeeze your ass or tits whenever she walks past

even when you're in public which makes it so fucking degrading. you could be talking to a stranger at the club and she'll just lean over to grope your tits in full view of the guy you're talking to. just so fucking casual as she strides past, like its the most normal thing in the world.

and tbh it kind of IS, so when the guy stands up all angry for you and you're just sitting there spluttering and have to go "no i— i let her.." like the little slut you are

so so rough in bed. borderline violent. she just can't help it, not when you get that delicious spark of fear in your eyes and you plead with her with those plush, parted lips like you're just begging to be used and abused.

obsessed with leaving bruises and hand-prints on you during sex. gives her the deepest pleasure to see you all marked up, so clearly hers. it makes her cock stand up just thinking of it.

has made you walk around the house completely naked after a good bruising before just to admire her handiwork. and to make you easy for use, of course.

marking you up with her initials on the base of your neck so everybody knows that you’re hers.

definite knife!kink. dragging the dull edge of the blade along your thigh.. smiling to herself as you tremble under the cold, cold metal grazing your folds.

fucking you as she does it—fingers swirling so goddamn slowly that makes your eyes water, each time she flicks your clit your body screams at you—but you can’t move. bc there's a knife right fucking there and then it'll be your fault if she hurts you—not hers. she told you to keep still, didn't she?

#(╯°^°)╯head💣canons #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter x afab reader #sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter headcanons #sam carpenter #sam carpenter bot #scream

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tenpintsofsundrop · 8 months

Text

Loverboy

Bratty!Virgin!Spencer Reid x (Dom)!Fem!Reader (Smut Blurb)

Concept: You try your best to make Spencer's first time a good one. Spencer can't hold himself back, and makes it an incredibly memorable night for the both of you.

Word Count: 3,100

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

If you want to be notified whenever I post a new fic, make sure to follow my library blog @sundropslibrary and turn on notifications there.

Please read my pinned post before interacting. (Basically, I will block you if you look like a bot.)

Please note - this fic contains Dubious Consent. The characters agreed beforehand to use contraception in the form of a condom, and then one of them foregoes the condom without asking the other for permission. The characters are safe and everything in the fic works out.

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: mainly smut/pwp; generally under-negotiated kink; mentions of the social constructs around virginity and the social pressures that men feel based around sex; this is Spencer's first time having sex and the reader is a lot more experienced; this is not an explicit or pre-planed dom/sub relationship, but there is dom/sub undertones to their interactions; Spencer is more submissive (and bratty/defiant - before becoming compliant) and the reader is more dominant/leading; the reader calls Spencer 'baby' and 'brat'; she reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; penetrative sex/penis in vagina sex; mentions of fingering (does not take place during the fic); "just the tip"; unprotected sex - the reader and Spencer agreed to use a condom beforehand but Spencer pushes in without one (the reader secretly loves it, but doesn't want to tell Spencer because she doesn't want to feed into his entitled brat attitude and this could be considered dubious consent because he broke her consent regarding using contraception); spanking - the reader spanks Spencer (very mild pain kink); something that could be considered 'premature ejaculation' (but imo it's never premature, it's right on time); creampie kink - they both enjoy Spencer cumming inside of her; mentions of Spencer crying (from overwhelming sensations, not sadness or humiliation); overstimulation (toward Spencer); Spencer fucking into his own cum; I believe that is everything.

A/N: Originally, I had this idea when I was thinking about Lessons For A Genius, but I realized that it didn't quite fit the tone of that fic, so I decided to write it separately. I hope all you Subby Spencer lovers enjoy it! (Also can you tell that 'just the tip' is my new fav trope? lmao)

...

“You ready, baby?” You cooed, gently running your hands through Spencer’s hair.

You tried to keep that same soothing, sweet voice that you had been using with him all night, trying your best to keep his nerves at bay. You knew that this was an uneasy time for him - between the social pressure of being a man who had never had sex with a woman before and wanting to ‘impress’ you and his general shyness around other people. You just wanted him to be comfortable and at ease so that he could enjoy himself. Which, of course, was generally the point of having sex.

When Spencer had asked you to take his virginity, you felt incredibly honored. He was handsome, and despite him being ‘socially awkward’, he was charming. He had his own unique way of flirting, and he did have his choice of beautiful women that he could have fucked instead of you. There had been plenty of gorgeous women from his past, so you were surprised that he was even still a virgin in the first place.

But when he had been explaining it to you, he had mentioned that the ‘social awkwardness’ had played a big role. The nerves. He had expected that one night, he would simply kiss a woman that he was on a date with, and things would just naturally ‘go from there’. But it never happened like that. He never had that movie romance moment where it fell into place. So instead, he had asked you.

He told you that he found you intensely attractive, and - the part he hadn’t told you - he had been fantasizing about this for a while. He found everything about you utterly perfect. From the way your clothes hugged your curves to the way you looked dangerous suspects in the eyes and screamed at them without flinching.

(And stowed away as a deep, dark secret, he had imagined himself in that position many times - handcuffed to an interrogation table, screamed at by you until he was begging for mercy.) (But again, that wasn’t information he was going to just volunteer to give up willingly.)

So when Spencer laid it all out for you, fidgeting nervously and explaining that he finally wanted to know what sex felt like - you couldn’t deny him. He was too sweet, and too pretty, of course you couldn’t deny him.

Even though it was something the two of you planned, and you would have simply invited him over to your place for the night, he insisted upon a date night out - taking you to a lavish restaurant first. He said that he wanted to act like a gentleman before taking you to bed. And it was a lovely evening, so there were no complaints on your part.

You had taken him back to your place, and you had done your best to make him comfortable through the kissing, the groping, and showing him how to ‘satisfy’ you (again, upon his gentlemanly insistence). You were plenty turned on just by being with him, but you quickly found out that he was a swift learner with more than just books and very good with his fingers.

Now, it was time for the ‘main event’ - at least, the part that would make him feel less much like a virgin, marking that big milestone for him.

To give him control and make him feel more comfortable, you were on your back with your head on the pillows and he was sitting on his knees between your spread thighs. He had his body pressed pretty much flush against your naked one, savoring the feeling of your warmth. He was almost completely naked himself - save for his very Reid white briefs, barely containing his seemingly very long, hard cock. You hadn’t gotten a good look at it yet - just the outline of it through his underwear, and even tented, it seemed very impressive.

You really wondered how no one else had snatched him up as a partner yet.

He was hiding his face in your neck out of shyness. His nervous streak was oddly sweet, but it was something you had been trying to coax out of him all night. Even if you found it entirely adorable and endearing.

“‘m ready.” He hummed into the skin of your neck.

This sent pleasant vibrations through you, making you moan lightly as well. You rubbed your hands across the broad of his back, continuing to soothe him, trying to get his stiff muscles to relax.

“Okay, baby.” You told him. “I’m gonna take these off now, is that okay?” You posed, reaching down to the waistband of his underwear.

He nodded into your neck, but you weren’t entirely satisfied with that.

“Please use your words.” You told him.

It was only after the sentence left your mouth that you realized how ‘scolding’ it sounded. How condescending.

Oddly enough, it was that tone of voice that made Spencer’s cock jolt, and made him so buttery and compliant in seconds.

“You - you can take them off.” He muttered quietly.

“Good.” You praised him, your voice short and firm.

You felt yourself very specifically holding back from saying ‘good boy’ in response.

You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his underwear and got them down over his ass. The material did get slightly hooked up in the length of his cock, and you tried to take a peek between your two bodies to get a good look at his now exposed dick. But you couldn’t see around him with the way he had his face tucked into your neck. Spencer untangled himself and clumsily got the underwear down over his knees and eventually kicked them off.

He moaned when he jostled slightly and felt his cock nudge up against the wet heat of your pussy. You let out a hot breath at the feeling, tightly locking your hips in order to keep yourself from bucking forward and rubbing yourself across his cock. You didn’t want to overwhelm him with new sensations. And you didn’t need to tempt yourself with the idea of pushing him over onto his back, shoving his cock inside of you and riding him raw like he was nothing more than a toy for your pleasure.

This was supposed to be about making his first time good - not about chasing your own selfish desires.

Feeling curiosity flood him, Spencer finally pulled away from his safe haven tucked beside your head to prop himself up and get a better look. He put a hand on each side of your shoulders, looking down the length of your body to stare at the impressive heat nuzzling up against his cock between your thighs.

He had become well acquainted with your pussy when he had fingered you, and he already knew what a gorgeous, warm, wet thing it was. But seeing your throbbing wetness right up against his cock, getting to see that natural gloss so carelessly slicking him up - it made him truly realize the wicked reality that he was going to slide his cock into that wet heat.

He was going to fuck you.

It was a thought that made his head spin, quite literally made him dizzy with pleasure. He felt temptation so ripe in his veins as he got up on his knees a bit more and the bright pink head of his cock naturally found your entrance, naturally kissing right up against it. He let out a moan as that heat fanned out over his cock, begging to swallow him up. He wanted to be swallowed up by you, wanted to be consumed whole. He bit his lip, knowing it would be wrong to do it without-

“Hold on, baby, we need a condom.” You told him, trying your best to keep a firm, steady voice as you were overwhelmed with sharp jolts of pleasure.

Feeling the thickness of his cock against you - feeling him right there - it was almost too much for you. You were so tempted to roll your hips up and simply take him inside of you. You were so tempted to have him fuck you raw.

But it was not what the two of you had agreed upon beforehand. You had to be the logical one - you had to enforce the rules.

While you reached off to the side, to the box of condoms you had waiting on the nightstand, Spencer continued to stare at your glistening cunt with pure concentration knit over his features.

He was biting his lip with a near bruising hard quality, his brows knit so tight that he likely could have held a quarter between them. All of it was just so tempting. Feeling the heat coming off you; so different from his hand, so different from humping into his bed desperately at night, so lively, so perfect. The feeling of your perfect wetness coating the tip of his cock.

Something in his mind was screaming at him:

Just the tip. Just the tip.

He could press the tip of his cock into you without a condom, just for a moment, and it would be fine. He would know what your pussy felt like on his cock without a condom. And then he would pull it out again and put the condom on and everything would be fine.

Technically, he wasn’t breaking any rules.

He heard the foil wrapper crinkling as you tore it apart with your teeth and his need grew even more urgent under his skin.

Before he even fully made the decision, his hips were surging forward, and he was pushing his cock into you. He let out a throaty whimper as he felt more of that perfect heat and wetness enveloping his cock. He couldn’t have stopped at the tip if he wanted to - he likely couldn’t have stopped the movement of his hips even if someone had a gun to his head.

He kept pushing more and more of his length inside of you with a heaving, broken groan as he fully sheathed his cock inside of you for the first time. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes as he felt your raw, wet cunt around him - no barriers, no asides. Just the perfect, unadulterated you.

“Oh god.” Spencer moaned, bowing his head to rest in your neck again as he began to pant furiously. He was trying to keep himself from fucking into you like an animal mindlessly, just chasing his release. He was trying to simply enjoy the hot, wet, tight vice as it pulsed around his hard cock.

“Spencer!” You scolded him harshly once again. “What the fuck?!”

Your pussy throbbed with the fullness, only now truly feeling how big he was, and fuck - he was big. He was stretching your pussy out so good, making you clench around him desperately, unconsciously trying to memorize every single ridge and vein that you could feel. Because of course, without a condom, you could feel every single detail of him, including the underside of his cockhead bumping up against one of those incredible spots inside of you that was almost never touched by any other man.

As much as you love it, this was bad. You had agreed to use a condom.

You dropped the condom beside your head out of shock. This had been the last thing you had ever expected him to do. Spencer: someone who had been so timid all night. Someone who had asked permission to touch your breasts just a few hours ago. That very same someone had just pushed into you without a condom, without even asking permission.

He had somehow morphed into a greedy brat in the span of a few minutes. And as much as that turned you on, you couldn’t encourage that kind of behavior in him, because it would turn him into an entitled monster. Every single instinct inside of you told you that you had to punish him for this, rather than spoiling him.

He had to learn how to behave.

“Spencer, you-!” You continued to use that sharp scolding voice, and unconsciously, it only turned him on more.

His hips flexed forward, trying to push impossibly deeper into you, and you bit your lip, forcibly holding in a moan.

“I’m sorry.” He whimpered into your neck, his voice entirely pathetic. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, oh-”

He felt your cunt clench around him, you becoming so turned on by his whimpers of ‘I’m sorry’. You couldn’t help but to love his pathetic sweet compliance. But then, feeling that wet heat tighten around him even more, he couldn’t hold back anymore.

He pulled his hips back and fucked forward once, and then - that animal thing inside of him took over. And he began fucking you at an even pace, chasing his orgasm inside of you as though you were nothing more than a hot, wet hole for him to fuck.

“Spencer!” You scolded in a sharp gasp, trying your hardest not to show a pleasurably reaction toward his bratty entitlement and ruthless possession of your body - something he had not yet earned. Not by far.

“Oh, I’m not sorry!” He moaned louder, lifting his head from your shoulder to give you an utterly filthy grin.

He couldn’t bring himself to be sorry anymore. Not when it felt this good.

It was one of the most wicked things he had ever done in your presence, and it made you very tempted to reach up and slap him across the face - wanting to slap that grin right off him. You just barely held yourself back from doing so.

He felt like he had won. At this point, he didn’t even care if it was at your expense. Right now, he was being so truly selfish.

He was entirely unapologetic in his movements, pounding away at your pussy like it was his own personal toy. He fucked like an entitled boy, like someone with absolutely no regard for his partner’s pleasure - and oddly enough, that only turned you on more.

It was a dizzying feeling that was only increased by how natural he seemed to be, especially for a first-timer. He was easily keeping up the hard pace, driven only by his pure, selfish need and chasing the heat of your pussy around him, never wanting it to end.

He hammered his hips into you evenly, becoming sloppy at points, clearly only chasing his own pleasure in a way that drove all of your instincts insane. He absolutely wasn’t performing - he wasn’t fucking you with purpose. He wasn’t trying to make you cum. He was using your body for his own selfish pleasure. He just wanted to get his dick wet like the selfish boy he was.

There was only one thought on your mind.

“Filthy brat!” You spat out.

Spencer couldn’t care less if that was good or bad, even though you hurled it out beside his ear like a cruel insult. He didn’t care if it was an insult - he was still getting to fuck your perfect pussy, he was still feeling you clenching around him as you huffed in his ear.

All he knew for certain was that you were dripping wetness around him, leaking down over his balls. You were a clenching heat that made him feel like his cock was finally home and he never wanted to leave it. He let out a victorious giggle in between moans as he continued to fuck you. Although you felt an orgasm building in your belly, you felt the overwhelming need to put him in his place.

You weren’t going to let him get away with this behavior, even if he did have a magnificent cock.

“Dammit, Spencer!” You cursed, bitter annoyance still ripe on your lips.

Before you could even think too much about it, you reached around his body and sharply spanked the broad of his bare ass cheek. You were desperate to find something that would get him back under your control. It wasn’t even your most powerful swat, seeing as you couldn’t get much heft from the angle of being below him.

But the hit left a mild sting on your fingers, and caused a nice smack of skin on skin in the room.

In a second, the sting of the hit across his ass had his hips stuttering in inconsistent waves as he flooded your insides with hot cum.

You felt a slight wave of disappointment as your orgasm dulled inside your belly, his cock stuttering to a stop and unable to keep up the pace that was driving you there. But then you were boiling with heat once again as you felt his cum leaking out of you around the base of his cock where the two of you were joined - you couldn’t help but to enjoy the feeling. And you loved soaking in the filthy knowledge that he had cum so quickly simply from being spanked.

He was definitely a brat who liked to be punished. Someone who needed to be put in his place by you.

You should have been angry with him for foregoing the condom, and cumming inside of you so abruptly. But you couldn’t find much anger there as he bit your shoulder and moaned hoarsely as his orgasm pumped through him. It only lit a bitter fire in your belly, telling you that you were going to keep him, because this turned you on too damn much.

Spencer moved to pull away as the clenching of your pussy around him became too much. But you weren’t going to let him get away that easily.

You moved both your hands to his ass cheeks, digging your nails into the flesh there. You clung onto him hard and made a rough movement, shoving him forward until his cock fucked all the way back into you. You moaned under your breath at this and he let out a tattered gasp at the pure overstimulation.

“You’re not done yet.” You told him, entirely demanding. “You wanted it so damn bad, brat. So go on. Keep going.”

Spencer moaned at this. He almost wanted to argue - he was tired, that had been so much for him.

But as he became dizzy with the feeling of hot pin pricks all over his almost numb, still somehow rock hard cock, he could find no flaws in your logic. He only wanted to say yes. He wanted to live inside your pussy forever. He realized that he never wanted to pull out if you weren’t going to make him.

He tucked his forehead back into the crook of your neck and began fucking into you roughly once again, battering his hips between the sharp prick of your nails in his ass and the hot pool of his own cum that he had left inside of you.

“Thank you!” He moaned out. “Thank you, thank you, oh thank you!”

“You better fucking thank me.”

#sundrop writes #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #sub!spencer #sub!spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom

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ghouljams · 4 months

Note

Hello! I love your posts and have actually been following you for a long time, but through hashtags. I really enjoyed your posts about ghost!ghost and cyberpunk au. I would be very grateful if you could write a short piece of fiction. ☺️

Sorry, English is not my first language and I've never made a request before! I'm hiding behind the fence and watching you. 🫣

Let's do more cyberpunk! I love my big android Ghost <3

You sit in a loose fitting tank and shorts, your goggles pulled over your eyes to guard against the soft glow of heated metal. It's boiling in your workshop, you'd try to fix it yourself but despite your mechanical know-how, you're not an air conditioning repair expert. Not that that's stopped anyone from stopping by your cramped shop to ask about it. You curl forward, rub the leather of your glove against the burnished surface of the bot you're working on. The filigree is coming along nicely, you always enjoy being able to add your own special touch to mechanics. There's a knock against your door frame. You ignore it.

"I can't fix the a/c, take it up with the captain if you're that desperate," You toss over your shoulder, pressing the super heated wire against metal again.

"That all you're hearing today?" Ghost's voice fills the air. You sigh and lean back to switch off your machine, pushing your goggles up to look at the android. The sleek black of his face plate is unreadable as always, but his posture is casual. His arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the wall to watch you.

"What's broken?" You ask, not bothering to rise to whatever bait he's throwing you. He takes the opportunity to push off the wall and pick his way towards you, stepping over tubes and wires, computer cases pulled open to keep them cool. You're doing everything you can to avoid a system failure here.

"Fingers are twitchy, need a screw loosened," He tells you easily. Thank god for diagnostic checks, makes your job a hell of a lot easier when bots know what they need. You reach behind yourself for an extra stool, pushing off the casing to make room for your newest frequent flier. You pat the stool and go to grab your tools as Ghost takes a seat.

Micro-screwdrivers for micro-screws, a mini-soldering iron, a few spare wires and circuit connectors, your magnifiers, you even drag the big light over. Ghost watches you, his cameras clicking as they adjust to the new light, as the adjust to your movements. He makes a quiet noise when you get tangled in the wires hanging from the ceiling that sounds suspiciously close to a laugh. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

You take your seat and hold your hand out for his. You trace the seams of his synth-skin when he gives it to you, looking for the latch on his hand. Synth-skin always makes you a little squeamish, something Ghost obviously doesn't share when he shoos your hand away and tugs the synthetic skin off his hand like a glove. You put aside how nauseous that makes you in favor of studying the new mechanics.

You turn the dial on your magnifiers to look closer at the intricate overlay of his hand. The mechanics of it are mostly familiar to you, but you've never seen anything quite like it. One of his fingers twitches and you shift your focus to it. Curling closer to his hand, your light follows your movements, shining clearly on the interlinking strands that slip around the wires and metal. You poke one of the white ribbons with your screwdriver and his hand flinches.

"God this is beautiful," You mumble to yourself, tipping your head to try and find a new angle to work at. You tap the metal plating at the tip of his twitchy finger, following the lines of spring and ribboning to the root. You're gentle as you can pushing wire and cording(?) aside to inspect the inputs at the base of his finger.

"Fuck," Ghost grits, you glance up at him, his head turned to look away from you.

"Sorry, trying to be gentle," You offer, unsure why you're even offering it, when you look back at your work, "You wanna walk me through the specs? Might help."

"What do you wanna know?" It sounds forced. Strange as that seems to you, you find bots are just as reluctant to peak at their insides as humans are. Traces of their creators still stuck to their servos.

"The tensioning," You decide that's what it is as you locate the offending screw and grab a different screwdriver from your kit, "I've never seen this material before, it feels almost organic."

"It is organic," Ghost's hand twitches when you look up at him, pressing a little too hard against a ribbon.

"What?" You frown, "No it isn't, no one manufactures with organic materials."

"I'm a custom job." Is the only explanation he offers you. You sigh and give his tight screw a good turn. You suppose that makes sense, military made, custom for... well for the 141 you suppose.

"Military really shouldn't be using organics," You grumble, "it's illegal for a reason." You push check the other screws in his hand. Precision is always the name of the game for androids, you don't see any sense in including something as unpredictable as organic material. Not to mention is all has to come from somewhere. You eye the ribboning, the tendons of his hand that lace mechanics together like muscle, likely feeding into some sort of neural net that reads the signals of it.

"Lot of things are illegal," Ghost grumbles, his voice slipping in and out of modulation as his tone lowers, "doesn't stop folks from doin' it."

"Hows the hand feel?" You ask, redirecting the conversation somewhere more comfortable. Ghost flexes his fingers, and you watch with gross fascination as his hand moves, the tendons tensing and releasing with the metal and wires.

"Better."

"No twitches?" You hear the soft processing noise of his diagnostic before he shakes his head. Ghost grabs his glove from the top of your tool kit and tugs it over his mechanics. He locks it to the rest of his synth-skin and flexes his hand again to check everything is in order.

"None to report." He stands, pushing up with his hands on his knees. You carefully replace your tools into their respective holders, try not to think of the feeling of his- your stomach rolls at the thought. This is exactly why you became a mechanic and not a doctor.

"You don't-" You start, unsure how to phrase the question, "you don't have any other organic matter in you, do you?" Ghost stares at you for a long moment, his face plate unreadable, not even the click of his camera could clue you in to his thoughts.

"No." He replies, and the relief that passes over your face is almost worth the lie.

#cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley cod #simon riley x reader #android au #android!ghost #cyberpunk au #ghost cod #ghost mwii #simon ghost x reader #tw body horror #mechanic!reader #oh? what's this? lore?

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mono-dot-jpeg · 6 months

Text

tank moment - mauga

summary; title slightly irrelevant, i wanted to be funny. iykyk

genre/extra tags; headcanons/bullet fic, i talk about mauga hcs i thought of on the fly, reader is implied to be a support character, reader is also part of talon group, fluff, i only know the bare minimum about him and that's all i need baby, is this platonic or romantic idk

[gender neutral reader] [canon typical violence mentioned]

a/n; im back on my overwatch era. it never really ended but, i want to write about him, mauga, the beloved. typing this on my phone and finishing on my computer if anything seems wonky shhh dont tell me i'll relive that mistake for days

also this is a somewhat lightly reseached- aka not fully accurate/detailed work. i briefly mention samoan culture and if it offends or if it's a mistake, please tell me and i will erase those parts asap.

[support me and buy a kofi]

🗣 ALRIGHT SO ‼️

i've been watching and playing with/against mauga since the trial to play him came out and god i love him

but he's kind of easy to counter (im an ana main, nade is fucking broken but that's just anti heal things) and his ult is annoying

anyways

every tank needs their heal bot to keep em up

you just happen to be mauga's heal bot KDJSJSJ

(baptiste is too probably but not really)

he's a really smug guy

no one really knows that bc he sounds so upbeat and nice

but he loves to tease you, poke at you bc he knows that you will answer to him most of the time and entertain him in conversation

you and him are probably in your world even when you're both in talon tbh

he does his own thing and you just happen to join in

(he totally baits you to join his plans and you both know it)

he's a chaotic and cunning man and you're his enabler

(sounds like me and my bestie tbh)

"a hero would sacrifice you to save the world but a villain would sacrifice the world to save you" type beat

he's lowkey possessive but we dont talk about that

jk we do talk abt it

he's your scary guard dog privileges

like that man is tall tall ‼️‼️

idk why but i dont really imagine him being like an openly sweet person

he keeps it private even with how loud he is

anyways

you know how he's on a yacht for his origin story and there's like a bunch of people who got destroyed by him?

yeah he would totally do that shit for u if you asked.

he would give you the best home but

"thanks for the new place and all but did you have to kill someone for it?"

"i mean come on! this place is nice! let's enjoy it!"

he's very "i'll do the dirty work, just sit back and look pretty." and then you're like, "yeah i could. but i won't."

dps support vibes for you ✨️

but also he's charging in most of the time so, there's not much time to dps support KDHDJDJJD

he's like the kool aid man bursting in through the walls /j

cough

back to the hcs here...

he's so tall and big, he would totally let you hang off his back like nunu and wilump (from league, yeah i play league dont remind me totally gonna write for heartsteel soon tm)

also he's literally the greatest heated blanket (ahead of roadhog)

he's so stronk and wowowowow im so gay i love him

when you're surrounded by some enemies, he's charging in, slamming the ground and carrying you with ease as he keeps you safe while destroying any enemies who even tried to touch you

ugh

despite his lack of pda, he's a very actions over words.

he's so silly

chivalry isn't dead when he breaks into a jewelry store for u 😍😍

if you ever have those crazy thoughts about crime, he's totally gonna enable you and let you reign havoc on god knows what.

love language is actions and gift giving. enough said.

when he gives you a hug, he's so fucking warm omg

i said it before and i'll say it again, he's the best heated blanket, literal furnace

bad for the people who sweat easily though (ahem me lowkey)

one the off-days where it's just a day off and relaxing, he's taking care of you well !!

when you're on talon missions, since he can't run around as easily unless he gets the okay but you do keep him company until then

he likes to protect but he loves destroying people

he knows you're able to care for yourself, so he can go crazy whenever, and he loves that.

he also loves watching you get mad or angrily passionate

"yes go, la'u ma’asoama!" (my rock/stone, get it? bc his name means mountain)

he is a really good hype man. even if you're the one in the wrong.

god I WISH I LOOKED UP MORE ABOUT HIM ARGBHYKFJ

soon (tm)

someday i'll write more.

#overwatch x reader #overwatch 2 x reader #overwatch mauga #mauga x reader #overwatch mauga x reader #overwatch #overwatch 2 #overwatch fluff #overwatch headcanons

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nishirikixo · 12 days

Note

Can I pls request a fic where Sunghoon comes home from practice and he’s already been having such a bad day and then reader says something small but because he’s already upset she makes him cry and she’s rlly confused why he’s having such a strong reaction when he’s not usually the type to. Then she suggests they go for a walk to the park and he opens up to her and they talk things through

this is such a sweet idea I'd love to write it 🥹 thank you for requesting ♡

The Cure

pairings: idol!bf!sunghoon × reader

warnings: nothing really, besides a few kisses (if u see any mistakes please let me know!)

Sorry that this is isn't very long, I'm not the best at writing soft yet and the ending is kinda cheesy lol but I hope you like this 🫶

Sunghoon never liked to show his emotions in front of you. He didn't want you to think he was weak or think any less of him. You of course, wouldn't ever cross the thought. You loved Sunghoon and if he ever opened up to you in any way you'd do your best to comfort him and support him.

When he arrived home from practice you didn't greet him like you normally do. You had your headphones in while you were folding laundry in your bedroom so you didn't hear him open the front door. He was slightly upset by that but he knew it wasn't intentional so he brushed it off. Sunghoon just really wanted to see you right now, he got into an argument with some of his members over a part in their choreography and they left without resolving it. He also had some articles about him with rumors from before his debut and even though it was obvious to anyone that they werent true, the stress was really eating away at him.

He walked into the room seeing you humming and folding laundry, "Yah, Y/n, I'm home" He tapped your shoulder causing you to jump, "What the- you scared me! Knock on the door next time, don't sneak up on me like a ghost!"

He doesn't know what it was, maybe the volume or tone of your voice, maybe the way you were startled when he touched you, or maybe just that he couldn't take it anymore and this was bound to happen. He broke down in front of you for the first time, a waterfall of tears streaming down his face.

"Hoonie- I- I'm sorry-" You weren't sure what you did that was so upsetting it made him cry, but you wanted to fix whatever it was, seeing him like this broke your heart. You hugged him, letting him cry into your shoulder, rubbing his back softly.

You both stayed like that for a moment until he squeezed you in a tight hug before letting go. "I'm sorry.. I didn't mean to be like that.." You grabbed his hand in yours, "Don't be sorry, it's okay to cry. But... was it something I said..?" He shook his head rapidly, squeezing your hand in both of his, "No, no, no, baby it wasn't you at all." You felt relieved that it wasn't you who'd upset him, but what could've happened that hurt him so much?

"What happened then, Hoon?" He really wanted to tell you. He trusted you more than anyone else, but he felt awkward talking about himself in that way. His lips downturned in a small frown. "Well.. it was... theres just.." You didn't want to push him with something he wasn't ready to talk about, so you thought it would be better to just help him get his mind off of it instead.

"Don't worry Hoon, it's okay. You don't have to tell me if you can't," You caressed his cheek, softly smiling at him, "why don't we go for a walk? Just to get some fresh air, it might help." Sunghoon still felt guilty, not wanting to make it seem like he didn't trust you, but he agreed to go with you since fresh air sounded like a good idea.

The two of you walked together hand in hand down the sweetly lit pathway of the park. A comfortable silence had fallen over you both, you appreciated each others presence and it left a sense of peace. Occasionally one of you would point out something that caught your eye or reminded you of something and you'd share a sweet laugh together.

After about 30 minutes of walking Sunghoon stopped you both abruptly. "Y/n..." You looked up at him, seeing that sorrowful gaze from before appear on his face. "Hoon..?"

He pulled you with him to a nearby bench, sitting down on it and motioning for you to sit with him. You opted for crouching on the floor in front of him instead, you always preffered to be face to face with people when talking with them. You held his hands in yours again as you watched him gather his thoughts.

"Today... I had a hard time with the other members," Sunghoon paused as if waiting to see your reaction to him being more emotional around you, you gave his hand a reassuring squeeze letting him know he was perfectly fine to continue. "There was a big disagreement, they were all against me and I felt terrible. I love them all and I don't want them to be mad at me but I couldn't help it, I got angry and we were all yelling and..."

His head lowered and a few tears dripped onto your hands, followed by small sniffles. You balanced on your heels, lifting yourself slightly to embrace him like before, letting his head rest on your shoulder and leaving yours in the crook of his neck. You placed soft kisses there, his arms reached around to hold you. "I'm sorry this made you feel so upset, Hoon. I know you love them, I know they love you too."

"What if they can't forgive me. Or what if they can't treat me the same after." His sobs tore you to pieces. You hated to see him in so much pain, "They will forgive you, it'll be like nothing ever happened. Just make sure you guys clear everything up and I promise it'll be okay." You stroked the back of his head, brushing your fingers through his soft straight hair. "Is there anything else on your mind?" He softly hummed and you felt him nod his head.

"There's also... some rumors about me... saying I bullied my classmates from before I was an idol, I would never do that though. I know no one believes it but it gets to me, Y/n." He felt the anxiety in him lessen the more he opened up to you. He always had his fears that it would be negative but it was clear your view of him didn't change and it didn't make him feel low, it relieved some of his stress. "It makes sense that it would bother you, anyone would be bothered. I'm upset hearing about it too, you're the kindest person I know. My sweet Hoon."

If it was possible that his love for you could grow, it had tonight. Within seconds his lips were on yours in a soft tender kiss. It was slow and passionate and you could feel every word he wanted to express through that kiss. Thank you. I love you. I need you here with me. To him, you are the cure for everything.

In one swift movement he lifted you from the ground and onto his lap. You gasped in shock, throwing a playful slap to his chest. You both shared a laugh and a few more sweet kisses. You sat together for a little while longer at the park, enjoying the beautiful night before heading in.

You could feel a difference in Sunghoon after that. He carried himself more confidently than he had earlier in the day, closer to his usual self. It relieved you so much to know that he was feeling better and that he was comfortable being vulnerable around you. He too was proud of himself for putting his feelings out there and it gave him the strength to work things out with his members in the morning.

With one last kiss, you bid each other good night. He held you in his arms in a way that would seem as if he'd never be able to see you again. He wanted you to know that he appreciated everything you did for him, and that he'd do the same for you. You both had a mutual understanding that you were each other's medication.

You were his cure and he was your cure.

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #sunghoon #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x you #enhypen imagines #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen x female reader #enhypen x you #sunghoon x female reader

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si1verghosts · 9 days

Text

you and me found love (lost under the shade)

re4r leon s. kennedy x fem reader (no use of y/n)

wc: 3.3k

18+ | cw: mentions of drinking, smoking, sex | tw: illusions to suicidal thoughts; author's general preoccupation with death and dying

read on ao3

title: falling asleep on a stranger by pierce the veil | art: taft bridge under the rain [#127] by carmonamedina

a/n: i honestly don't know if i am doing this whole tagging thing right idk how to tag on here so sorry if i missed anything.... anyways, this is the first thing i've managed to finish in months - i did not imagine the first leon fic i'd actually post would be reader insert but here we are!! i hope u enjoy :D

not beta read - all mistakes my own or done purposely due to my general disrespect for the grammatical conventions of the english language.

i do not own leon, yadda yadda, please don't sue me <3

please do not use my work to train any sort of AI chat bot and/or writing generator.

-----

"I can't be what you want," Leon had said, voice even. "Maybe you should try to find someone else; someone who can… be around."

Someone who can give you a straight answer. Someone who doesn't come home bloodied and bruised and can't tell you why. Someone who doesn't make you feel like it's all just a lie.

You had never heeded any of Leon's suggestions before - "You should go," he had whispered after that first night, and the second, and the third - but you wish you had; so you give it a shot now.

You let your friend set you up with the guy in accounting at her job she had been telling you about for months. "And get this - he always wears a tie bar! He just seems so put together," she had raved to you over drinks the weekend prior.

Accounting, tie bar, put together. Nice, neat, safe.

You had shrugged, "give him my number."

He's waiting for you outside the bar when you arrive, jogs over when he notices you approaching, holding his umbrella out over you. It's unnecessary - the cold precipitation is hardly a mist, barely coating the strands of your hair. "You look beautiful," he smiles. It feels rehearsed, platitudinous. You thank him, letting him guide you inside.

His hand brushes your arm as he helps you out of your jacket, skin soft. You pull away with the shock of it, covering with a small wave of beckoning. He falls in behind you as you traverse the familiar path through the room to your usual spot, settling in before he can manage to make a show out of pulling out your chair.

Same table, different seat; back against the wall - it's a whole new perspective. No longer focused solely on the person across from you, it's as if the whole world falls into your line of sight. It suddenly makes sense why you always found it so difficult to hold on to Leon's attention.

He slinks away to acquire your requested vodka soda from the bar. You pick at your nails until your fingers shake, shifting to look out the windows. The rain has picked up, pelting the glass and obscuring the view. You long for your car and the pack of menthols tucked away in the glove box, nobody to quit for now.

He returns with your drinks, water for himself - "trying to cut back on carbs, you know? I've been making real progress with my lifts lately."

"That's great," you smile.

He leans in, beginning to chatter away excitedly about weights and protein and bicycles and Wall Street. His cologne reeks of business school, of polo shirts and white picket fences and 2.5 kids. You hope you are nodding at all the right moments. His tie bar catches the light of the Budweiser sign hanging behind you, silver glinting red, as if informing you you aren't.

It's hard, much harder than it reasonably should be but you've forgotten how to do this. Leon and you hardly spoke; the silence was easier - until it grew violent from your overreliance.

You catch the ring of the doorbell over the drone of his voice, a familiar shape of blonde hair and brown leather entering your peripheral vision. You turn, a sick sense of satisfaction slithering up your spine.

Shoulders hunched and hands shoved deep in his pockets, he shakes off the water droplets clinging to his hair like a dog. He picks his head up, blue eyes and dark circles meet your gaze almost immediately.

You raise a brow, I took your advice; happy?

He spins around, setting the bell off again as he slips out the door.

"I'm sorry," you interrupt your date, who had been entertaining himself, seemingly never even recognizing your shift in attention. "I'll be right back."

You are out the door a second later, shoving your arms back into the coat you thankfully remembered to grab, shielding your skin from the rain clouding your vision. Blinking away the droplets from your lashes, you spot Leon making his way down the sidewalk and take off after him, catching up as he nears the corner.

You call to him, voice near enough to stop him, but only for a moment. "Go back inside," he throws over his shoulder, continuing forward.

You want to reach out and grab him, make him turn to look at you, but his shoulders are set in a tense line. Your touch is sure to set him off like a slingshot.

Steeling yourself, you dart around him, blocking his path. You find yourself in front of him without any idea of what to say. You gape at him stupidly, chest heaving from the exertion of chasing him down; maybe you should've asked what's-his-name for a good gym recommendation before you ran off.

Leon entertains you for a moment before he huffs, eyes narrowing, "what are you doing?"

It's an excellent question - one you had never bothered to stop and ask yourself.

What are you doing?

Why did you agree to go for drinks? Why had you put on the dress Leon had carefully unzipped and let pool around your ankles just a few weeks ago? Why had you asked Mr. Tie Bar to meet you at the bar you knew Leon always popped into after work?

Fuck.

You swallow harshly, "trying."

"Trying?" Leon reiterates, almost laughing. "And what is it that you are trying?"

Normal. To get over you. To make you mad. Honesty. To make you look at me. To make you want me like I want you. Safety. To hurt you. To get you to say something, anything. Trust. To get you to make me stay. To get you to stay.

You feel yourself frown, the familiar pressure of tears building behind your nose. You try to swallow the feeling but it just mixes with the venom stuck in your throat, bubbling back up after mutating into a bitter twinge of anger. "What the hell does it look like, Leon? You told me to try to find someone else - that's what I'm trying."

He rocks back on his heels, crossing his arms. "Well, it doesn't really seem to be working out, does it?"

"It was going great, actually." You smile, hoping it's not as hollow as you feel.

"Oh, yeah?" He cocks a brow, lips pulling into a sly smirk. "Then why are you out here with me?

"You," you huff, at a loss. His words seem to be coming easier than ever while you choke on every one. You shrug, "You looked upset when you left."

"And I'm sure that's exactly what you wanted, right?" His smirk stretches into an acetous grin. "Came to relish in the tears, huh? Sorry to disappoint." He moves to brush by you, but you plant yourself in his path once again.

"I can't believe-" you start, but stop short. Because you can believe he'd think of you that way - you'd never given him a reason to think otherwise.

You think back to the silence that had made its home between the two of you, realizing you had used it as a confidant, letting it absorb everything you should've given to Leon instead.

"I just wanted to check on you, see how you are doing." Your voice comes out as small as you feel under the weight of Leon's gaze. It's ironic - all this time you just wanted him to look at you, and now you wish he'd turn his eyes anywhere else.

He snorts, short and irascibly, "I don't need you worrying about me."

"I know you don't, Leon," you throw your hands out, rainwater flicking off your skin with your exasperation. "You've made that very clear. But I can't help it - I'm going to anyways."

"You shouldn't."

"Why not?" You half-yell, half-whine. You cringe at the sound, feeling slightly delirious; freezing cold and nearly begging him to let you care.

"Because you can do better." His voice is even once again, feelings stacked neatly away and locked up tight.

"You don't get to decide that for me," you spit, ears ringing with the echo of your too-loud voice.

"Yeah," he nods. "I do."

He steps around you again, intending to disappear down the side street. But this time you grab him, fingers latching onto the slippery leather of his jacket, his arm as tense as a bowstring under your grip.

"Let me go," he requests without turning to look at you, voice still even, even, even. It's a courtesy, he could easily pull free - but you are sick of his kindness, his courtesies; that's how you ended up here. You don't want them anymore.

"Make me."

"Let me go," he repeats, slower and thicker.

"No." If you want me gone, you'll have to force me. You don't say it, but you know he got the message when his shoulders slump, fight draining out of him all at once.

With the thrill of victory that ripples through you, you make the mistake of loosening your hold on his jacket. He seizes the opportunity, twisting your arm and grabbing you by the bicep, pulling you close. He is running hot despite the chill of the rain, you have to force yourself not to relax into his heat.

A moment passes, and then another. Neither of you move. The precipitation falls in sheets around you. You can't bring yourself to care.

Your gaze slides from his chest to his neck to his jaw, backtracking the path of a stray raindrop. You chance a glance at his eyes, finding they are already on you, steely blue shimmering with the light of the streetlamp behind you.

You love him.

You wish the ground would crack open, allowing you to freefall straight down to hell. You imagine that would feel better - less painful - than this.

You love him, and your skin burns with the feeling of it. You want to throw up. You want to kiss him. You want to pound your fists against his chest, curse him for doing this to you.

You settle for allowing a sob to escape your throat.

He releases you from his hold instantly at the sound. You scramble to grip his jacket to keep yourself upright - it's pitiful, the teeth of the zipper biting into the skin of your hands. The sharp pain comes as a tether, gifting you the space to ground yourself, to shove the tears back down.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, tight and clipped. "I didn't mean to-"

"No," you cut him off, voice rough, grating. "It wasn't. You didn't hurt me."

"Okay," he mutters.

You laugh. You love him and you can't help but laugh, sinking into the insanity of it.

You feel him start to stiffen again, unsure. The feeling of his discomfort building under your fingers forces you back into yourself, realizing where you are, that you've been causing a scene on the corner down the block from his apartment.

You release him, but you don't step away, tilting your head just enough to take in the sight of him - parted lips and a handful of freckles, blonde hair tinted green by the neon sign over the entrance of the convenience store a few feet away.

"I'm sorry," you croak out, drifting back; wishing the rain would melt you down, suck you into the storm drain. That's the only thing that could pull you from him, you think; swirling down the gutters with the cigarette butts and the fallen cherry blossoms until you're laid to rest at the bottom of the Potomac.

His nose twitches. "For what?"

That I can't find someone else, can't force myself away from you.

That I love you, but can't tell you.

"For," you throw your hands out, weaker than before. "All of it."

He nods, "It's okay."

You don't want it to be, but you suddenly feel exhausted. Too tired to fight, to pull any more truths from him.

"Take me home?" You request, you plead.

He nods again, holding his hand out to you. "Yeah."

You intertwine your fingers with his own, the roughness of his callouses and scars soothing in their familiarity.

The walk to his place is short. You don't bother trying to shake off the water before entering, leaving a trail of raindrops up the stairwell, down the hall, through his front door, across his apartment to the tiled floor of his bathroom.

He reaches into the shower, cranking the hot water, allowing the stream to heat up as he helps you out of your wet clothes. He removes the drenched fabric piece by piece - jacket first, then your dress, unzipping it with even more care than the previous time. It doesn't slip off with the same ease, but his gentle fingers pull it from your skin until it falls away. He crouches to undo your shoes, allowing you to step out of them before reaching up and rolling your nylons, guiding them down your legs.

He moves to do the same with your underwear, fingers resting on the waistband as he glances up to you, silently asking your permission even though he already has it, always will. There's no heat behind his actions, but the tenderness sears your skin all the same. You nod, a low ache settling into the center of your chest as he slides them off you before standing. You unclasp your bra; he doesn't comment on the matching set.

The steam of the boiling shower envelops you as you undress him in turn. You struggle with his belt buckle, stiff fingers uncooperative. He takes over and you drop to your knees to untie the laces of his boots, finding them mercifully secured with single-knots. You make quick work of them and he reaches down to help you up, moving you out of the way before he kicks them off.

You assist him in pulling his shirt over his head, peeling the cotton away from his skin. You unbutton his jeans as he removes the clips from your hair, wet strands falling limply in front of your eyes.

"Go ahead and get in, I'll go throw this stuff in the wash." His voice is mellifluous, sickeningly soft.

It makes you feel like a kid, incompetent and helpless. You hate him for it. You hate yourself for twisting his kindness into something dark and disgusting.

"I can help," you offer, because that's all you can do; already leaning down to collect your things. "You have to hang the jacket, it's-"

"Wool. I know," his hand brushes your back lightly, "it's okay. I'll be right back."

You straighten up, allowing him to guide you across the bathroom and help you into the tub. You slowly ease your way under the hot stream as he slides the shower curtain closed.

You watch the shape of him through the cloudy plastic, shucking off his jeans and pulling off his socks. The sobs you had just barely choked down twice before make another escape attempt, clawing at your throat as you watch his shadow collect your clothes and move down the hall.

You shut your eyes against the sudden emptiness of the room, against the tears and the silence and the panic; against the loathing and inferiority. You take the coward's way out, turning away from it all to hold your face up to the showerhead.

He returns quickly, rustling around for a moment before slipping into the tub behind you. His presence awards you the bravery you needed to crack open your eyes, to clear your throat. "You're wrong, you know."

Exhaustion overshadows his amusement as he hums in question, "about what?"

Picking your hand up, you reach out slowly to slide your fingers along his collarbone, circle the puckered scar on his shoulder. "That I can find someone better."

He scoffs, dropping his head, hair fluttering down to obscure his face.

You move your hand to his neck, thumbing his jaw. "If anything, it's me who doesn't deserve you, Leon."

He shakes his head, but you ignore the action, continuing before he can protest. "Nobody can take care of me like you do - not even myself. I'm sorry" - for needing you, for burdening you; for loving you even though I'm unworthy of it - "for pushing you. I understand there are things you can't share, but I want whatever you can."

You sigh, shifting your hand at his neck to pull him to you; he follows you easily, achingly. "Even if it's just this."

He nods minutely, hooking his arms over your hips and resting his forehead on yours. Answer delivered on a breath that floats across your lips, "alright."

You remain in his arms, his agreement echoing in your mind in time with the beat of your heart in your chest. Seconds morph into minutes, only moving when the water begins to grow cold.

You wash first, your shampoo and conditioner still on the rack next to his own. Leaving him under the stream, you make your way to his room after wrapping yourself in one of the towels he'd brought into the bathroom.

Home. You had asked him to take you home and he brought you here, despite your own place being just a few blocks further in the opposite direction of his from the corner you had been on. But his assumption was right; this - he - was home to you.

The emptiness of his apartment was unsettling at first, but it quickly grew comforting - no regrets staining the carpet; no photos on the dresser of you as a girl you don't remember being. Here you could be untethered from the past you didn't want; white walls graciously offering a clean slate, even if you didn't deserve it, didn't earn it.

There is a shirt of his waiting on the bed for you, a pair of your pajama pants in the drawer next to his. Your stomach turns at the sight - no wonder he had tried to push you away; you had subconsciously settled into his space, his closet and his bed.

Your mug in the sink, your pills behind the mirror - the reckless domesticity of it all is startling, terrifying. He had given you an inch and you had taken a mile, too eager for the chance to be something new.

You pull on the clothes, making your way towards the balcony, a wave of nausea rolling through you under the soft cotton. Outside, it's still raining, translucent ropes sluicing off the overhang of the roof.

You almost immediately regret stepping outside, feeling as if it's a betrayal of the care Leon took to get you warm; but you needed it. The chill of the air forces your thoughts to line up, to wait to be addressed one by one.

His hand leading you home, your wool coat hung to dry, his shirt waiting on the bed for you to occupy - each act a silent invitation; the realization stirs inside you, grips your collarbones from the inside.

Could it be…?

You should ask him, but you've asked for more than enough tonight.

He slides open the glass door, sweatpants low on his hips; the lamp on his nightstand illuminates him from behind, feathering out all his sharp edges. Maybe it's not love; maybe it's just lust, desire - a need so great it's all-consuming. You have no point of comparison to use as a frame of reference, to assist in finding the distinction.

"I was away for a few days, there's not much in the fridge. Is ramen alright or do you want to order something?" He asks and it's love, you are suddenly sure of it.

You turn; the sight of Leon in the buttery glow of the bedroom acting as a beacon, guiding you through the terror. "Ramen is fine."

#(writing)#leon kennedy #leon s. kennedy #resident evil 4 #leon resident evil #resident evil 4 remake #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy x you #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you #geez how many variations of the leon x reader tag is there...#i do not think i got them all but this is More than enough

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starliights-shining · 1 year

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Bayverse drift, crosshairs, Optimus prime, and lockdown

Reaction to their gn cybertonian s/o, who's shorter n smaller than them, just easily carrying him??

He's injured or something so reader just.. picks him up with ease and I'm honestly very interested of what the darling's reaction would be

Yes, yes, yes, and yes! I love Bayverse so much, it far too good for this earth. Also, I took Crosshairs out, simply because I just can not write for ever and i feel like no matter what way I go I fuck up his personality. Anyways, hope this is what you were looking for! Enjoy :)

Pairings: Bayverse! Drift x Reader, Optimus Prime x Reader, Lockdown x Reader

Warnings: Lockdowns a little spicy but nothing to NSFW,

Drift

Drift is up against a building, holding his side as he attempts to stop whatever bleeding is happening. The rest of the autobots were off fighting, except for you. Your small frame, being seen from across the road behind that building. You were on your hands and knees, optics scanning the sky for cons, and then your helm peeking from around the corner, he watched as you got up a bit, it looked like you were about to sprint and you did. When it looked safe, you ran across the road, servos covering your helm as you made your way to him.

“Hey Handsome!”

You said, a smile on your face as you scanned him, servos moving him to take over the process. He watched as your medical training kicked in, you were not a fight, no you were never a fighter. He remembers asking why you didn’t have a weapon. You soft laugh reaching his audials as you put your servos up in front of you, while saying something about medical equipment being your weapons. He remembers this moment why you're trying to stop him from dying.

“We gotta get you out of here,”

You grabbed his servo and placed it over the work you did, patches over the wound.

“Hold here, I’mma pick you up”

You went into position, hands in the spots to pick up the mech. You watched as his optics grew wide. You picked him up, like it was nothing and started walking away.

“Alright Handsome, I need you to keep talking to me. Can't have you fall asleep on me.”

He knew you were right, but he was too stunned to speak after you just casually picked him up, and started walking like it was nothing.

It had been a while, you had him back at a safe distance and with the other team members. You were almost done fixing him up, your optics focused on his wound, but his optics were on you. You covered the wound and smiled at him.

“Ya gonna stare all day, Handsome?”

You watched his optics look away, before he spoke.

“No, I just wasn’t expecting you to be able to pick me up.”

You laughed, you servos on your hips.

“It’s not that hard to pick up a mech.”

His shock was funny to you, you’ve never seen him this surprised before and it was in fact funny.

Optimus Prime

He’d fallen, the fight not lasting long for the bot. As for your small servos are already making their way over Prime’s wounds and trying to find a nice spot to grab for easy lifting.

“What are you doin!”

Prime’s voice loud over your helm and the sound of gunfire and occasional shouting from both sides.

“I’ve gotta get you outta here.”

Your servos grabbing at his plating, and practically throwing him over your shoulder. He was originally trying to stop you from moving him, but you easily lifted him into the air. Servos held him close to you as you moved swiftly back towards Ratchet. His movement stopped, when you moved to put him down, his blue optics stared into you. His face mask was still on, but you could tell by the way he stared, he was shocked. Your small frame build, able to carry him like he was a small child. You simply smile on your face, as you lean in to kiss his forehead.

“Can’t have you dying on us now Optimus.”

Lockdown

You looked up at him with an evil stare, of course he’d attack your height the second you two got into it. He stared down at you as if he could easily handle you, and that was far more upsetting than him calling you short or small or petite.

“Something upset you?”

You just squint your eyes, your servos formed in fist. He was also so, you can’t do anything but medic things, you're weak. He was starting to get on your fucking nerves, and it was showing. You turned away from him, and walked away.

“Don’t wanna talk anymore, what happened to that fighting spirit?”

He was mocking you, his helm turned upwards as he watched you walk, walk your pretty little frame a good distance away before you threw him the bird.

“I have a saying, I don’t care.”

That might have been the first time you thought you just man handle the neutral mech, His rude words about you being weak, and not worry of your power. It wasn’t until after the humans let Prime get away that you finally had enough. The human long gone, your servo came up to push his helm away. A grunt in return from your actions, he didn’t have time to register your actions, as you were already grabbing at his waist. Picking him up over your shoulder and throwing him towards the wall of the ship, a short distance away, he was shocked, optics scanning your face plating as he thought. Your helm still turned up to the mech.

“Say something one more time, Lockdown!”

He could finally see why you were a part of the Decepticons, that brute strength of yours. He wasn’t surprised, you were small, it looked like you could barely hold your own against a normal sized bot, but you just manhandled him like you were Optimus Prime himself, he had no reason to be shocked, he pushed you to this moment. This moment of upsetness, he saw how upset he has you, and it lit something within him, something you’ll see in just a few clicks.

#transformers #transformers drift #transformers lockdown #transformers optimus #transformers bayverse #transformers x reader #tf bayverse #tf x reader #Lockdown x reader #drift x reader #optimus prime x reader #tf optimus prime #tf drift #bayverse x reader #stars writings

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