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that-sarcastic-writer · 1 year

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Ride it

Leon S. Kennedy x F!Reader

Summary: Leon fucks you on his motorcycle. That's it. This is just pwp

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, pwp, unprotected sex (pls wrap it), p in v, bit of fingering, bit of a handjob, exhibitionism, praise kink, bit of an innocence kink, Leon has a mouth on him, the s in leon s kennedy stands for slut, language, no use of y/n

I wrote this with vendetta Leon in mind, but it can be whichever, but older leon fits better. Reader is also at least 25.

WC: 2.1k

A/N: I'm self indulging with Leon. Also, say it blew the fuck up and I was not expecting that, so tysm!! This one is for my Leon whores. Enjoy the pure filth :)

Leon Kennedy Masterlist

Gif credit goes to this tumblr

Ao3 link (but pls still reblog and shit on here thank u)

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!!

You knew damn well you should have known better than to listen to him when he oh so innocently suggested you wore a dress for your date. Spring had come fast and the weather was so nice for you to show off that one pretty sundress you brought early in the fall but had never actually worn. And it drove him absolutely insane to see you in pretty dresses. It gave him more room to work, he thought.

But oh sweet, naive you. So trusting of everything your boyfriend said to you.

But the minute you realized you were getting on his motorcycle and not his Jeep Wrangler, you immediately knew you were in for a long ride. And the borderline sinful smirk he flashed you as he handed you your helmet did not help ease the twist in your stomach.

Still, you wouldn't say no to anything he asked, if he wanted to use his motorcycle you would go to your date in his motorcycle. If anything, it made you more eager. And rightfully so, Leon would move one of his gloved hands on one of your thighs at every red light or stop sign, squeezing and tracing his fingers over your bare skin. Goosebumps would rise on your skin. You would hold him tight, both arms tightly wrapped around his torso, your chest flat against his back the entire ride. He didn't mind, if anything he found it endearing that you held on so tight.

But if he was going to tease you, so were you.

You were coming to a red light, so you oh so innocently moved your hands from his front to sneak underneath his leather jacket and t-shirt, cold fingers brushing over his warm skin. You felt him flinch ever so slightly, and he sucked in a sharp breath. Good thing he was at a red light, because he had to close his eyes to keep his composure.

"What are you doing?"

You heard his low somber voice through the Bluetooth in your helmet. You bit your lip to stop yourself from giggling and simply shrugged, but your hands stayed inside his shirt, now moving down to trace over his v-line, stopping at the hemline of his boxer briefs. You heard him groan as one of his hands came to grip your thigh.

"'M not doing anything." You eventually said. You gasped softly when you felt his fingers dig into the skin of your thigh.

"You're going to stop that, right now." He breathed through his nose, using that authoritative and commanding voice that only made you wetter. You swallowed, stilling your hands, but never actually removed them from under his shirt. Another heavy breath. "Take your hands out of my fucking shirt before I park on the side of the street and rearrange your insides right then and there."

The sound that came out of your mouth right then and there was pathetic. It made Leon chuckle. Oh his sweet girl, always such a whore for him. But you did listen, and your hands immediately returned to the front of him.

"That's a good girl." He hummed in approval, the light finally turning green, and he gave your thigh a reassuring squeeze before his hand returned to the handle. "We're almost there, be good and you'll get what you want."

You had a satisfied smile on your face the rest of the ride. But you probably should've known that your little stunt was going to cost you because the next time you came to a stop you were at a cliff that overlooked the city at the end of an otherwise empty road with a dead-end.

You frowned softly, taking your helmet off your head and looked around with a confused look. Leon had already gotten off the bike, helmet off, and had kicked the stand but never actually turned off the bike.

"Leon..?"

"Y'know, I actually had a date planned. I was gonna take you to dinner, then here because I know just how much you love to see the city at night, however," he bit his lip softly, grabbing your hips and forcing you to face him, your legs dangling off his bike while you were still sitting on it. You looked up at him with big eyes, "Because you're such a greedy whore and you can't seem to wait, I'm gonna fuck you stupid on my bike, and you're gonna take it, yeah?"

God, the things this man would make you do, the things he would make you want. He was a bad influence, but fuck, you loved it.

"Yes. Yes please." There was no hesitation, just need and desperation. He gave your hips a tight squeeze, his pale blue eyes filled with the same need.

"Mhmm of course that's what my pretty girl wanted, you just wanted my cock huh?" He had this filthy grin on his face as he moved his hands down to your thighs, "Spread your legs for me baby."

You bit your lip softly and did as he asked, he wasted no time in ripping your panties down your legs until they hung from one ankle. He smiled as he gripped your jaw with one hand as he peeled the fingerless glove off the other with his teeth before slipping it under your dress. You gasped, blood rushing to your face when you felt his fingers brush over your clit. Leon opened his eyes in surprise as he dragged his fingers down to your entrance and wetness instantly coated his fingers.

"Oh sweet girl, you're already so wet for me." He chuckled softly, leaning down to crash his lips against yours, capturing the moan he pulled from you as he slowly pushed in two of his fingers. "Mhmm."

"Please Leon. I want you so bad. Please." You mumbled against his lips, fingers gripping his hair as you bucked your hips against his hand.

"I know, baby. I'll give you what you want, don't worry." He hummed as he continued to work you with his fingers as he undid his belt with the other. With shaky hands, you helped him unzip his jeans and pull his cock from the confines of his boxer briefs.

With a soft hiss, he removed his fingers from you and pumped himself a couple times, coating himself in your slick before he hiked up one of your legs over his torso, spreading you out for him as he slowly slid into you. You eyes instantly fluttered shut and your head felt back as he slowly buried himself to the hilt, making sure you felt every inch.

"Mhmm fuck…" A soft whimper left your mouth as you threw your arms over his shoulders in an attempt to keep yourself upright, and then as you opened your eyes, you remembered you were in fact, out in the open, "Fuck. Shit, Leon. Do you think someone will drive by?"

"So what? I'm deep enough for you to feel me in your stomach and you're worried someone will see?" He laughed mockingly, not in the slightest bit worried about it. If anything the idea of getting caught made him want to fuck you even more. He brought his hand to the back of your neck, pulling your face close to his as he snapped his hips forward, "Let 'em see."

God, you'd be lying if you said the idea didn't make you wetter. Leon definitely felt the way you squeezed around him when he said it. He moaned in response, fingers tangling around the hair at the back of your head as he gave you another punishing thrust.

"Mhmm yeah, you'd like that wouldn't you? You'd like it if someone saw you all sprawled out on my bike, dripping wet, and getting fucked stupid by your older boyfriend? Yeah you would." He was pounding into you harder and harder, each word spoken in between moans and groans.

"What would they think huh? Such a sweet innocent girl letting her older boyfriend use her like this? Goddamn baby, I've ruined you." He pulled your face close to his, foreheads touching as he watched the utterly fucked out look on your face and the sound of your dripping cunt slapping against him.

"Yes! Fuck yes. Only you can do this to me." You cried out, any and all worries about getting caught long gone, and all you could think about was the aching feeling in your belly, and the flash of heat that was rapidly approaching.

"Mhm, that's right, pretty girl. Such a greedy whore, just for me." He moaned the praise, free hand scrunching up your dress to your waist as he held you on the seat that still vibrated through you as he kept pounding into you. And you happily took everything he had to give you like that was all you were meant to do in this world. Be at the mercy of your gorgeous boyfriend.

"Please Leon," You were holding on to him for dear life, nails digging into his leather jacket and hair, voice weak and broken in between moans. God you were so fucking close. "I want to come. Please."

Leon moaned at your weak pleads. You were so sweet, so desperate and at his mercy. He could never deny his sweet girl anything.

"Mmm yes. Let go for me baby, I got you." His thumb found your swollen clit, he rubbed harsh circles that matched his harsh thrusts, while his other hand kept a tight grip on your hair and he pulled your head back. "Look at me baby, keep those pretty eyes on me when you come."

You fought the urge to roll your eyes back as a flash of blinding heat ran through your body, but you managed to keep your eyes on his pale sapphire ones as you came around him, a pathetic moan falling from your lips as your whole body trembled. He held you on the seat, his body pretty much preventing you from falling.

"Mmmm fuck, good girl. Agh—" A moan caught his throat as your walls squeezed his cock and a gush of wetness seeped around him. He pulled you against him, mouth crashing against yours as he snapped his hips with urgency, his own release quickly approaching. "Fuck, fuck baby. You're squeezing the shit outta my cock. Shit, I'm so close. Fuck."

You held on to him for dear life, just letting him use you to chase his own release, your weak moans in his ear, your high pitched gasps and your weak mumbles of his name, fuck, it didn't take him long before he was pulling out of you. But he quickly grabbed your hand and wrapped it around his slick cock.

"Mmmm fuck baby— hah— yes, fuck—" He guided your hand on his cock, using your hand to pump himself, his face on your neck as he moaned, "Yeah just like that baby. C'mon pretty girl, make me come. C'mon, fuck, yes. Yes, good girl. Shit ugh—"

Strings of his come shot into your hand and the seat between your parted thighs as he came with a guttural moan that made you wet all over again. You hummed softly, leaving kisses over his face as he panted. His eyes were closed and he had the side of his face pressed against your neck. He left wet kisses along the exposed skin of your neck as he breathed heavily.

"You did such a good job, baby. You're always so good for me." He hummed against your neck, moving up to capture your lips into a softer, slower kiss before he was pulling back.

You sat on the seat, making your best effort to stay upright, legs wide open as you waited for Leon to clean himself up. You tilted your head at him with confusion, just now realizing what he had done.

"Why did you—" You frowned softly as he took your hand, cleaning his mess with an old bandana before wiping the seat in between your parted legs.

"I'm still taking you to dinner. Unless you wanted to sit through dinner with my cum inside you all night." He chuckled softly, face flushed red, hair disheveled and jeans still undone as he tossed the bandana into one of the compartments. When he looked at you, you had this sweet look on your face, a tiny smile on your lips and your head tilted. God you were so adorable, it made him want to ruin you all over again. "Although you probably deserve it. But I'm not that mean."

A small perverted smirk made its way to your lips, and it made Leon groan as he grabbed your chin and placed a rough kiss to your lips.

"Don't give me that look or you won't make it to dinner."

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy

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ginnsbaker · 8 months

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Bulletproof (5/?)

Part Summary: Daisy's fingers intertwined with yours isn't a sign of a budding romance, but rather the result of a game... The explanation has been long overdue, but in the days since your return, Wanda has made it abundantly clear that she wants nothing to do with you.

Chapter word count: 3.2k+ | Tags: Light Angst, Still Unresolved Sexual Tension, Still Gay Disasters, Wanda is in denial, So are you

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Next Part | Series Masterlist

Daisy's fingers intertwined with yours isn't a sign of a budding romance, but rather the result of a game.

On the flight back to the compound, you, Daisy, Vision, and Natasha, played a card game to kill time. You and Daisy, unfortunately, were on the losing side. Natasha, with her ever-sly grin and penchant for mischief, came up with a penalty—whichever team lost had to hold hands for the rest of the day.

The explanation has been long overdue, but in the days since your return, Wanda has made it abundantly clear that she wants nothing to do with you. Initially, you thought getting out of her way would give her the space she needs after you revealed to her that you willingly participated in her sex dream—something you still constantly beat yourself up over.

But it has become evident that she requires more than just physical distance; she wants you completely out of her life.

On top of this, despite Daisy having moved out to her own room a week after she put in the requisition, your sleep hasn't improved much. Every time you close your eyes, memories flood in: Wanda's voice, her warmth, even her distinct scent, all haunting your dreams just as vividly as they do during your waking hours.

The lack of sleep begins to take its toll, especially during training sessions. You're off your game, your reactions slowed, and your focus wavering. It's hard to stay sharp when your brain feels like it's swimming in a haze.

Natasha, always direct, just told you straight up that you look like hell and that you should get more sleep.

Easier said than done.

One evening, after another training mishap, you finally decide it's time to face the root of your sleeplessness. Clearing matters with Wanda isn't just for your peace of mind now; it's essential for the team's safety.

Taking a deep breath and gathering your thoughts, you make your way to Wanda's quarters. In your hand, a small olive branch: her favorite snacks, hoping it might soften the forthcoming confrontation. As you near her door, the muffled sound of laughter stops you. It's her voice, paired with another's—a voice you don't recognize.

As you inch closer, discreetly peeking into the slightly ajar door, the scene before you sharpens. The unfamiliar man stands closer to Wanda than anyone has in recent memory. Their laughter, her bright eyes, the casual touch of her hand on his arm—it's evident she's enjoying his company.

But it's not just any company, it looks like a date. And to make matters more intimate (and worse), they're headed into her quarters. The man holds a bottle of wine in one hand, suggesting a night in, and she's leading him, her fingers lightly grazing his as they move.

The snacks in your hand suddenly feel out of place, almost childish in the face of the mature, romantic scene unfolding before you. You spin on your heel, a new mission in mind, and beeline straight for Steve's office. Pushing through the door without knocking, you find him hunched over some paperwork.

“Steve,” you start, your voice edged with urgency. “What's the protocol for late-night visitors?”

He looks up, surprised by the sudden interruption, and takes a moment to process your question. “Well,” he begins, scratching his head, “As long as they're not on any criminal or watch lists, they're allowed in the compound.”

“Even this late?”

Steve's eyes dart away from yours for a moment, his cheeks tinting a soft pink. “We're all adults here,” he mumbles, the tips of his ears turning red. “As long as they're... respectful and discreet.”

Feeling the sting of frustration boiling over, you grit your teeth, barely getting out a terse “Fine,” before making your way out of his office.

On the way out, your gaze lands on a bottle of wine perched on a shelf, an apparent relic from a past era given the thick dust on its label. Without a second thought, you snatch it up.

“Hey!” Steve calls out, rising abruptly from his chair. “That's been aging for decades!”

But you're already gone, the echo of your footsteps a testament to your swift departure. Steve stands still for a moment, listening to the diminishing sound. Shaking his head, he mutters an exasperated, “Kids these days,” before turning back to his desk with a sigh.

–

Draining the entire bottle solo does little to coax sleep. Your healing powers, frustratingly, tend to neutralize the effects of intoxication almost immediately.

Still, you appreciate the brief, fleeting buzz. Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, the shadows morph and play tricks on your eyes. You consider maybe you should've joined Sam on his night flight practices. At least then you'd be physically tired enough to drown out the noise in your head.

Shifting in your bed with a sigh, your thoughts drift to the first time you saw Wanda Maximoff.

Rogers had you cornered, your back on the cold ground, his knee pressing firmly into your chest. The skirmish had been intense, your side versus theirs, and one by one, your allies had been captured or incapacitated. You were the last holdout, defiant to the end.

With Rogers' weight pinning you down, and your arms restrained, you could only tilt your head to the side, ears picking up the sharp, rhythmic clicks of boots against concrete.

Wanda Maximoff made her entrance, and even in your vulnerable position, her presence commanded attention. Those signature boots, the flow of her skirt, the cascade of mahogany hair—all of it painted a picture of power and poise. But it was her eyes that held you—a deep, entrancing gaze that seemed to see right through you.

And now it’s those same eyes that keep you up at night. The same ones that used to lazily open each morning, taking a moment to adjust before locking onto yours, almost lighting up when they did.

And fuck it—you really want to see those eyes right now.

With a sudden surge of boldness, you spring from the bed, with every intention to barge into Wanda’s room and throw out the man from earlier.

But as you violently yank the door open, you're met with the most unexpected sight: Wanda.

She's standing there, fist raised, poised to knock. The proximity is startling. You can sense the faintest heat coming from her, so intimate it's almost intrusive. Her eyes widen in surprise, but you're too entranced to even process it. Your breath hitches, time seems to slow, and a million thoughts race through your mind.

Before any words can leave your lips, she closes the distance, her hands finding your face as she pulls you into a searing kiss.

Thrown off by the intensity of her kiss, you stagger back a few steps. On instinct, your hands slide down to the back of her thighs, lifting her with ease. She responds instantly, her legs wrapping around your waist, her grip on you tightening. The world blurs for a moment as your focus narrows down to the sensation of her against you.

With a swift kick, the door to your room slams shut, and you quickly reach behind to lock it. Your steps falter when the back of your knees hit the bed, causing both of you to tumble onto the soft mattress. The sudden change in elevation doesn't deter Wanda; she swiftly positions herself, straddling your hips, her hands exploring the contours of your face and neck.

Drawn to the warmth of her skin, your lips meander down her throat, eliciting soft sounds with every touch. The moment you nip at her pulse point, a deep moan escapes her, its vibrations going straight to your own core.

The sound causes you to pull back slightly. “Wait, Wanda–”

Wanda's brow furrows in annoyance, her crimson lips parting in a soft pout. “Why are you stopping?” she huffs, her tone sultry but also slightly slurred.

That's when you realize it—the faint but unmistakable scent of alcohol on her breath, the slight glossiness of her eyes, and the way her movements, while passionate, are also a tad uncoordinated.

“Wanda, have you been drinking?”

Her head tilts slightly, as if trying to understand the question, her lips parting in a lopsided smile. “Just a little,” she admits, her fingers playing with the collar of your shirt.

You gently cup her face, thumbing away a stray strand of hair. “We shouldn't do this if you're not sober, Wanda.”

“Me being unconscious didn't stop you before,” she hisses, a dark undertone to her voice. The air in the room suddenly grows thick and heavy. Wanda's words, stinging like a slap.

Your stomach drops, guilt and regret flooding through you. Carefully, you slip from Wanda's hold, swinging your legs off the bed to sit with your back turned to her. That night was something you'd replayed in your mind over and over again, beating yourself up for crossing a line you never should have. The hurt in Wanda's voice only exacerbates the pain.

“Wanda, I—” you start, risking a glance over your shoulder.

“I shouldn't have said that,” Wanda whispers, looking as if she's on the verge of tears. “I'm sorry.”

“No,” you quickly counter, a lump forming in your throat, “You meant that. And you have every right to. It's something we should've confronted a long time ago. Whatever happens next, I'll accept any consequences for my actions.”

Wanda reaches out to place a hand on your shoulder, her voice shaky, “If you're ready, then I'm ready too. I'm not innocent in all of this. I took advantage of the situation as well.”

You shake your head firmly, turning to face her and then grabbing her chin gently, making her eyes meet yours, “No, Wanda. You weren't aware. I was. I knew better. That's on me, not you.”

In response, Wanda dithers, then gently kisses the fingers you have placed under her chin. But she doesn’t stop there. A fire still kindling in her veins, she surges forward to claim your lips once again.

You kiss her back for a fleeting second, getting lost in the softness of her lips. But then you pull back, placing a palm against her chest. “Wanda, you need to sleep. You’re not…We'll talk. I promise, in the morning.”

She sighs, her fight melting away as the weight of the alcohol and exhaustion take over. Relenting, she nods, and you help her get situated under the covers.

You start to arrange some pillows on the floor, intending to make a bed for yourself. But as you're about to lie down, Wanda's sleepy voice stops you.

“Stay with me,” she mumbles. “I've been having trouble sleeping without you. I just... I want you near.”

Drunk Wanda feels like a whole other person, wearing her heart on her sleeve in a way that just makes you want to wrap her up and protect her.

After all that's transpired tonight, you're wary. But seeing her there, curled up and looking so small in that big bed, it's hard to resist. You exhale, "Just for tonight," you murmur, more to yourself than to her.

Climbing into the bed, you maintain a respectful distance at first. But, as minutes tick by, you find Wanda inching closer, until her head is nestled into the crook of your neck. Her warm breath tickles your skin, and you can't help but wrap an arm around her, pulling her close.

With everything that went down tonight, you'd think sleep would be impossible. But with the bed being so comfy and Wanda so close, you feel your eyelids getting heavy. It’s strange how having someone next to you can make things feel a bit better. Even with all that’s happened between you two, Wanda’s still your calm in the storm.

And you hope, deep down, you're that for her too.

The next morning dawns, and you find the space beside you empty.

It's not entirely unexpected.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you notice the other side of the bed is empty. It’s quiet, and the room feels a bit colder than before. Splashing cold water on your face helps you wake up a bit more, but it also makes everything from last night crash back into your mind.

Alright, deep breath. You've got this.

For now, giving Wanda her space feels like the right move. You can't even begin to imagine what's going on in her head. But you–

You've got a pretty clear picture of what you want, and if that means waiting a bit longer for her to figure things out, so be it.

Pulling on some clothes, you decide to bury yourself in work and maybe hit the gym later. A distraction is just what you need right now. But as you leave the room, you can't help but hope that once everything cools down, you and Wanda can finally sort things out.

Whatever that might look like.

The timing couldn't have been worse. Of all the moments for disaster to strike.

The piercing shriek of alarms tears through the compound right before dinner.

It is quickly followed by an earth-shaking rumble.

The compound is under siege, and this isn't a regular assault. It's planned, strategic, and designed for maximum devastation. The ground quivers beneath you as you scramble to your feet.

Missiles rain down from all directions, their impacts causing blinding explosions and sending shockwaves that rattle the building's foundation. Dust and debris cloud the air, limiting visibility. The familiar hum of the building's defenses rises, but it's evident they're struggling against the barrage.

Steve's voice, steady yet urgent, sounds over the intercom. “All hands on deck! Secure the compound. Natasha, Clint, get the personnel out now.”

You grab your gear and rush out, adrenaline surging. The corridors are chaos—agents, staff, and superheroes all trying to restore order while dodging blasts and the intruders now inside.

You take a sharp turn, making a beeline for Wanda's quarters. As you approach, your heart sinks. The area is a mess of crumbled concrete, twisted metal, and shattered ceilings. The sight is gut-wrenching, and a cold dread fills your chest.

“Wanda!” you shout, your voice raw with fear. Debris crunches under your boots as you race towards the wreckage of her room, trying to find any sign of her.

Distant explosions and shouts echo down the corridor, but they're just background noise to the panic tightening in your chest. You start to dig through the rubble, tossing aside chunks of wall and broken furniture.

“Wanda!” you yell again.

Suddenly, a muffled groan reaches your ears, and you zero in on its source. Frantically clearing away the debris, your hands finally find the familiar fabric of her jacket. Pulling with all your might, you manage to free her from the wreckage.

Her face is smudged with dust, a small cut bleeding on her forehead, but her eyes—those eyes you had lost sleep over—flutter open, meeting yours with a mixture of relief and pain.

“Hey,” she coughs weakly, a small smile forming on her lips despite the situation.

As you reach to help her up, she lets out a sharp, agonized scream that stops you dead in your tracks. Your gaze shifts down, and horror sets in as you spot a length of steel rebar protruding from her side, clearly having pierced through her abdomen. Blood seeps around the intrusion, staining her clothes a dark, foreboding shade of crimson.

“Wanda!” The name escapes your lips in a choked whisper, panic overtaking your every thought. Dropping to your knees beside her, your hands hover above the injury, unsure of what to do. Removing the rebar might cause more damage, but leaving it could be just as lethal.

The anguish in Wanda's eyes is almost too much to bear, tears spilling down her face as she clutches weakly at the protruding metal. “I–It hurts,” she manages to gasp out, her voice trembling.

Distant footsteps grow louder, echoing through the shattered hallways. The approach is too rapid, too relentless. Friend or foe, you can't determine. You don’t have the luxury of time to find out.

With urgency mounting, your eyes, stinging with tears of your own, dart around the destroyed corridor, searching for an exit, a hiding spot, any kind of advantage. But every moment counts. “Hold on, Wanda,” you whisper, your voice thick with desperation. “Just hold on.”

But she's weakening fast. You know you need to act, and quickly. Taking a deep, steadying breath, you place one hand above the wound and the other below. “I'm going to pull it out, okay? I need you to stay with me.”

With a nod from Wanda, albeit a weak one, you summon all your strength, both physical and emotional, and in one swift motion, you remove the metal. Blood flows more freely now, and Wanda's scream fills the corridor, echoing off the walls.

Using your powers, you immediately start to heal the wound, the warm glow surrounding your hands as they work their magic on her injured torso. Wanda's once steady heartbeat is now all over the place under your touch.

The process is agonizingly slow, and every second feels like an eternity. You literally feel your powers leaving your body, as you concentrate on focusing all your energy on the gaping hole on Wanda’s stomach. You dig deep, pulling out energy you didn't even know you had. It's like trying to stay afloat when every wave tries to drag you under. But bit by bit, you watch the wound start to close, the bleeding halting, and the raw edges of her skin fusing back together.

Wanda's shaky breaths slowly stabilize, but her complexion remains worryingly pale. By the time you've healed the wound to just a scar, you're on the brink of passing out, every bit of energy sapped from you.

“Y/N…” Wanda weakly squeezes your hand. “You... you saved me again,” she says, her voice a raspy whisper.

Your head leans into hers, and you muster a faint smile. “Always for you,” you whisper back.

You both start leaning in, faces just a few inches away, when–

When suddenly, a sharp pain lances through your chest, quickly followed by another agonizing jolt in your stomach. Not so long ago, you shrugged off a sniper's bullet like it was nothing. But now, these bullets burn, and the shock of not being invincible all the time hits you harder than the actual shots.

Wanda's eyes, previously filled with gratitude, are now wide with horror. The transition from relief to shock to rising fury is evident. Her eyes blaze a menacing shade of red, her powers swelling with her emotions.

“You... you were bulletproof,” she stammers, a trembling hand reaching out to you.

“I thought I was,” you choke out, blood pooling in your mouth and trickling down the side of your lips.

Your strength is fading fast, and everything's starting to go fuzzy. All around, the place is falling apart, but there's this sudden burst of red energy.

Wanda.

She's letting it all out, and the power's intense.

The last thing you hear, right before everything goes black, is Wanda's voice, raw and choked with emotion, screaming your name. “Y/N!”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff #captain america civil war #the avengers #oneshots #steve rogers #daisy johnson

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emepe · 7 days

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— Pairing: Eren x Reader, fwb with feelings

— General info: 18+, modern AU, one-shot, smut, fluff

— Summary: Everyone is suspicious that Eren Jaeger has a secret girlfriend or at least a new body. What they don’t know is that his secret affair is with you.

— Content warnings: nsfw, vaginal sex, handjob, light bondage, femdom if you squint (Eren likes being tied up), role switch, mentions of drunken make out, vaginal fingering, mutual pining.

— Notes: I haven't written smut for Eren in a while, but here you go. Happy reading, bubs!

Links: Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Or at least a secret person who's kept him from overwhelming you with his flirty attitude and incessant date proposals. The change in his demeanor was obvious from the start. Your friends noticed it right away.

Eren Jaeger has a secret girlfriend.

Overnight, he simply stopped trying to persuade you into going out with him.

If anything, this shift in dynamics brings peace to your group. Nobody has to put up with Eren's cringey pick-up lines and you seem more relaxed than ever now that Eren's off your back.

You've always made it clear to him that you just want to be friends, yet that's never stopped him from shamelessly insisting how great you'd be together if you just gave him a chance. But now that he's no longer waking his friends’ second-hand embarrassment by forcing them to watch him get rejected over and over again — they have to give you credit, you've remained incredibly patient — the only explanation is that he's spontaneously over his crush, or he's found someone else to fixate on.

Whichever the case is, he's awfully secretive about it. Nobody has met her and he hasn’t even mentioned a name. All they know is he has a goofy grin when the group splits at the end of your get-togethers and he rushes to his confidential rendezvous. But perhaps that's for the better. If he's not talking about it, then it means whichever poor girl he's lured in isn't a ploy to make you jealous.

As your weekly poker night comes to an end after everyone has come down from their weed-induced high — it's your turn to host — and everyone takes on a different task to tidy your living room, Eren is especially quick to wash glasses and finish off everyone's self-assigned duties so goodbyes can be bid sooner.

Everyone heads out the door and into their cars to drive back home.

Eren lingers in front of your house, as his hands fumble around his glove compartment long enough for his friends to disappear from view. With one last glance over his shoulder, he hurries back up the steps to your front door and eagerly knocks a coded beat.

When the door cracks open, you're looking up at him with a neutral expression.

“I think I forgot my lighter,” he grins.

With a roll of your eyes, you pull him inside by his shirt and shut the door.

A short while later, Eren's wrists are tied to the bed with a silk scarf and he does his best to resist the urge to thrust into your hand, as you jerk him off at the laziest pace you can manage. His torso is littered with the searing sensation left by your lips when you kissed down to his V line minutes earlier.

Eren's bare chest rises and falls heavily as he watches himself grow big enough that your thumb can no longer reach your fingertips.

A soft mewl leaves his lips when your thumb brushes over the head of his cock, the gentle friction sending a tickle up his spine and causing his nipples to harden.

“When can I tell our friends we're together?” he asks, admiring the black lace set that adorns your body. The thin straps of your thong disappear into the crease of your thighs as you rest on your calves before him. He hasn't pointed it out, afraid it might embarrass you if he did, but he's noticed you've gotten into wearing sexier pieces of lingerie as the weeks have gone by.

He didn't mind the plain cotton underwear from the first time you pulled him aside to tell him you'd give him one night and no more — pink bikini cut panties with a little bow at the front— but he's not complaining about your recent style evolution, either.

You raise a quizzical eyebrow.

Eren barely acknowledges your expression, but clarifies anyway in between shallow breaths.

“O-or… you know just t-tell them that we're sleeping together.”

Your lips tug into a smile.

“You want them to know you like being tied up and jerked off by me?”

An airy chuckle leaves Eren's lips as his head falls back against the pillow.

“Yeah… I kinda do,” he shyly admits, blinking up at you through half-lidded eyes.

After the first night you spent with Eren, when you drunkenly made out in his car and you let him finger you to an orgasm after poker at Armin's, you assumed he'd get bored and just move on. His tireless flirting always seemed like more of a joke with how juvenile he was about the matter.

Eren was known to be loyal to none else than the bachelor life, always having fun but never settling down. He went from to girl to guy, to girl again. He wasn't careless about it, but he wasn't one to get attached to his fleeting partners more than he should, either. You weren't a prude, but you learned long ago that sleeping with friends can be messy, which is why you spent months rejecting him countless times. Besides, you'd feel a bit hurt if he just saw you as one more person to conquer.

But one too many shots of tequila two months ago pushed you into a spiral of lust and hazy thinking. Suddenly, giving into Eren's advances didn't seem too bad. And considering you kissed him first, you could at least say you had some power over how you felt about it all. You wouldn't get attached, and you wouldn't expect more than you knew he could offer. It'd just be a friend helping a friend get off.

Only it didn't stop there. Eren stopped by your house the following morning to confess his feelings. It wasn't the first time Eren admitted to liking you, but it was the first time he was so earnest when pronouncing the words.

You remained skeptical. Even now, when he tries to get your opinion on revealing your relationship to your friends, you hesitate. Suddenly, you're oblivious to the pounding in your chest each time he flashes his boyish grin at you, or when he shudders under your touch and you have to hold back from viewing him through a romantic lense. Suddenly, you ignore the fact that he hasn't even talked to anyone else since that night in his car or that he's adamant about repeating how much he likes you each time he gently wipes you clean of his cum. Suddenly, you can't recall the lengthy periods you've spent browsing lingerie, thinking a little too hard about what Eren might like. Suddenly, you're clueless to the absurdly obvious that somewhere along the way, you've developed feelings for Eren and his have only gotten stronger.

“So?” he breathes, a lazy crooked smile plastered on his face.

Your hand pauses as you lean forward to kiss his cheek.

“You're cute,” you smile.

Eren blushes profusely as you pick up your movements, your hand more firm this time as it strokes his cock.

With your free hand, you unclasp your bra with agile movements, letting the delicate cups of black lace fall from your breasts and the straps to glide off your shoulders.

Eren bites back a whimper as his gaze wanders over your pert nipples.

“What was that?” you tease, giggling once Eren throws his head back like you knew he would. You soften your hold on his cock, which elicits another whimper from the helpless figure before you.

“You're getting meaner these days,” Eren mumbles as he returns his gaze to you. “Come on,” he begs, bucking his hips upwards to accentuate his pleading. “Touch me, please.”

A sigh of relief falls from his lips when your hand wraps around his length once more, your thumb brushing over his tip with a ghostly touch that has shivers running down his spine.

He connects with your gaze, refusing to peel his focus from you even when a particular stroke makes him hiss and his eyebrows upturn in pleasure. It's a matter of willpower, to not come undone before he even gets the chance to bury himself inside you.

His eyes shimmer at the image of you bending forward to trace your hardened nipples with his tip. Your nipple brushes with exquisite friction over the slit of his urethra. It sends a pleasant tingle through your chest and has him releasing shuddered breaths, breaking the dam of his mental prowess as warm cum bubbles and leaks from the tip, trailing down his length and pooling in the crevices between him and your hand.

There's no use in toughing it out anymore. You stroke him more fervently, kindly prolonging his high as he thrusts into your hand, his hips clumsy and his whimpers broken as he struggles with his restraints.

Your hand grows sticky as it slathers his release over his length, his cock still hard even after the last of the creamy white ropes finish spurting from his tip.

When you look up at him, he's got a lazy grin on his face and his eyes shimmer as they watch you adoringly. He'll never not be fascinated by how hard it is to hold back when it comes to you. But he tries his best, and it's earned you plenty of hours worth of fun.

You smile back as you press his hips against the mattress before straddling him. His breath hitches when he realizes you're preparing to lower yourself onto his cock.

Your fingers hook under your thong, tugging the fabric to the side as your free hand strokes him before he gets a chance to soften — as if that were possible; the man gets hard just by looking at you. Carefully, you line him up with your entrance and lower yourself in measured movements. Your brow furrows in concentration, your eyes closing as you replay a visual in your head of his length making its way inside you.

A pleasant burn comes from sinking onto him without much preparation beforehand, but the slick gathered between your folds from watching him writhe under your touch eases any discomfort.

“Easy, baby,” Eren murmurs, admiring the way his cock gradually stretches you open and disappears into you until you're flush against his pelvis.

A heavy sigh escapes your lips, your features softening once he's fully inside. It's been a while since you and Eren started exclusively sleeping with each other, and it only gets better each time he carves your insides to be his perfect fit. You've never felt so full, both physically and emotionally.

“Do all the people who've been on this bed get to spend the night?” you teasingly asked the first time he invited you to stay over at his place.

Eren smiled as he continued twirling a lock of your hair between his fingers, his chest still reflecting his heavy breaths as his efforts to make you cum twice that night caught up to his body.

“You're the first.”

You never expected Eren to be so tender. Even when you decided to explore new things together, there was always a moment where he'd just look at you and smile, infecting you with his amusement that ultimately ended with a shared laugh as you collapsed onto bed beside him, or further teasing which led to the most mind-blowing orgasms.

You stir your hips slowly, getting used to the feeling of him inside you. Eren can only admire from below as your hands fix themselves on his stomach and you start to grind against him.

A lazy crooked grin stretches across his face as he watches your brow furrow in concentration when you're finally comfortable enough to raise your hips and sink back onto him, grinding your clit onto his pelvic bone as you do. Your movements are sharp and measured as your arousal continues to build up and a series of pretty moans climb up your throat.

Your tits bounce to the beat of your skin slapping against his, offering Eren the most perfect view as he grows frustrated with the pink silk scarf that's keeping him from playing with the soft mounds.

“Eren,” you whine, short of breath and too clouded by lust to remember how to pronounce anything other than his name.

“Keep going… You're doing so fucking good, baby,” he breathes, and accentuates his words with upwards thrusts he makes to meet you halfway. “So. Fucking. Good.”

Your head rolls back, your eyes fluttering closed as you bite back the moan that's threatening to escape your lips.

Your hands fall onto his calves and you lean back, pulling his focus from your tits to the wet folds that swallow his cock, coating him with the glossy sheen of your arousal.

Eren continues thrusting up into you a few times, matching your rhythm and doing his best to ignore the pesky scarf that keeps him from reversing your roles and dominating you instead. You haven't reprimanded him for moving so he figures you could use a bit of help — you must be getting tired.

It's oddly fun to be tied to the bed as he grows more and more excited each time you lift your hips and your sloppy cunt is right in his line of view. It's incredibly satisfying for him to witness you fluttering around him, taking him so well as you only grow more needy, too. So he does his best to remain a good tool to help you get off.

Your forehead is lined with sweat, your features are contorted in a mix of concentration and pleasure, your thighs are growing heavier and yet you've never looked prettier in Eren's eyes.

No matter how glad he is just to watch you use him, it's a huge relief when you throw yourself forward with barely enough clarity to undo the knot on his wrists with one sharp tug of the silk fabric, and he can finally dig his fingers into your hips, picking up your slowing pace for a more fervent one.

The sound of slapping skin plays over and over again as you fall forward and bury your face into the crook of his neck, whimpering and exhaling nonsensical noises into his feverish skin as a reward for his patience.

His hands grope your ass, spreading your cheeks as he helps you meet his eager thrusts. Your nails dig into his shoulder and grip the sheets, the satisfying sensations between your legs too big for your body to carry as your breasts jostle against his chest in tandem with his relentless thrusts.

Eren's hand effortlessly wraps and tugs at your hair, forcing you to face him as you reach your high.

Sweet moans and whimpers fall from your parted lips, your half-lidded eyes looking down at him through a glossy haze.

“You're so pretty, baby. Come here and give me a kiss,” he coos, before pulling you by the back of your neck into a searing kiss that overwhelms your body further.

His tongue expertly glides inside your mouth, caressing yours and devouring each of your moans. The kiss is desperate and sloppy, with teeth crashing into each other in his futile attempts to bring you impossibly closer — as if thrusting himself into the deepest parts of you and shoving his tongue to the back of your throat isn't enough.

But it's no surprise. He's always been like this. At least, that's what you learned from day one of this secret arrangement. What you don't know is his desperation was awakened by just you.

Eren's no stranger to being a wildfire in bed, but it's different with you. His usual passion has been puppeteered by his heartstrings since the very first time two months ago. He's been a shameless flirt, it's true. But once you kissed him that night in his car, it was game over. He can still remember the frantic beat of his heart that stemmed from that very first taste of your lips. It still finds its way to him now, even when he eases his rough kiss for exhausted breaths that he releases over your open mouth.

Never before has he held so much eye contact with the person on top or below him, yet he finds a way to always have your face in his line of view to appreciate every little shift in your features. He loves the way your eyebrows knit together when you feel your orgasm coming in, and the way they soften with the washed over bliss of your high. He loves getting to clean you after and getting to hold you while you share pointless conversations as your exhaustion catches up to you — that's probably even better than the actual sex.

So as you cum around his cock and he fills you with hot ropes of white, he exhales a sweet ‘I love you’ against your lips.

Your body shivers and your legs weakly tremble as you climb off of him.

He pads to the bathroom, where he soaks a clean washcloth with warm water and comes back to find you fixing your hair on the bed.

His heart flutters as he goes through the usual motions of sitting beside you, tapping your thigh for you to spread your legs just enough for him to tenderly wipe his cum from the still sensitive spot at the center.

“What was that about?” you ask as you lean back into your hands, admiring his large hands gingerly pressing the washcloth where your thighs meet.

He glances at you briefly before smiling as he continues cleaning you.

“What do you mean?” he asks, still with that sly grin etched on his face.

Your face warms.

“Earlier, when you came,” you explain, circling around the exact words. “What you said… was that from the heat of the moment or something? Some new kink I should know about?”

An airy chuckle leaves his lips as he softly shakes his head.

“I wouldn't say that,” he murmurs. “Let's just leave it there. You can decide what to do with it later.”

You hum in response, trying your best to look composed as butterflies stir in your stomach.

You've spent the past two months being skeptical, but ignoring your blooming feelings is hard when Eren keeps surprising you with things like this. He's sweet and attentive, and cuddling in bed with random conversations is easily earning the first slot in your favorite things to do. You like brushing his hair from his face and burying your face in the crook of his neck. You like hearing him say sweet things and you like the duality of his actions in bed.

You can decide what to do with it later.

It'll be a while before you admit to the cause of the incessant pounding in your chest, but for now the feelings linger in the air as Eren pulls you under the covers with him and he presses a kiss into your hair.

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#aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #eren yeager x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #aot x reader #eren jaeger x y/n #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger fluff #aot smut #eren jaeger fanfiction #eren smut #eren jaeger x you #eren yeager fanfiction #eren yeager smut

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holybibly · 2 months

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Hi! This is my first time ever sending an ask to one of the many writers I follow here on tumblr, and honestly you're my favorite because you write so so well. Like oh my god, everything you write kills me in the best way possible. I really really enjoy reading anything you put out, and I can't wait to read more from you! I hope that you're doing well and that life is treating you well too! <3

Also I'd like to say I enjoy being your bunny, and honestly your wolf Matz is my favorite out of everything I've read on your blog so far.

Honestly just the idea of bunny reader getting fucked by them makes my brain melt. But also them getting a pretty collar for their bunny and using that to pull her closer or attaching a leash to it so that either of them could tug her whichever way they wanted, like ugh yes please.

Hi, my cute little bunny, what an honour it is for me to be the first writer to respond to your request.

I guess we're thinking the same thing, because I can definitely see Seonghwa putting a collar on you and puts a leash on you. God, he could make bunny crawl on all fours and wave that cute cotton tail from side to side like a snack to eager, hungry puppies.

I can also see him pulling on the leash as you ride him to give you a dirty kiss and stick his long tongue down your throat.

Seonghwa is a bit sadistic and vicious with puppies; he knows very well that wolf pups literally cum untouched and swell up their knots every time they see your tight pink pussy, and when those glossy, wet folds are stretched by a thick dick, it brings them to despair. So sometimes there are nights when Seonghwa wants to play, more with them than with you, and it's always so fucking dirty, wet, and slutty that you need to bathe in holy water afterwards.

"Aren't you the sweetest bunny in the world?" Seonghwa's velvety voice, full of evil, seductive darkness, purred from behind your shoulder. Wrapped in furs and luxury, like the most precious item in Seonghwa's vast collection of jewelry, you were in his, now your, bedroom. He was sitting on the edge of his king-size bed while you were sitting on his lap. Your pink, dripping pussy stretched out beautifully around his massive cock, and with every lazy squirm, his swollen, thick knot rubbed against your clit in the most delicious way. "Look at the way this tiny little pussy is sitting on my dick, like on a real throne. Tell your mommy, princess, do you love your throne?"

"Yes, мommy, I love my throne so much. It makes me sweet and full; I can feel you in my belly." Your small hand pressed weakly against the obvious bulge in the middle of your stomach. Seonghwa's dick really made you feel so full.

The sound of growling, moaning, and gasping filled the room at your words. It only got louder as your viscous mucus poured out of your hole, running down Seonghwa's cock, his heavy cum-filled balls, and dripping onto the floor, pooling on the black marble.

"What naughty puppies you are, behaving like bitches in the heat—impatient and moaning. Didn't I teach you to behave well when we are playing with the bunny?" Seonghwa's words were so humiliatingly condescending that even you became irritated and hot, even though they weren't directed at you but at the restless puppies that were kneeling in front of you.

They sat on their knees in a semi-circle in front of the bed, a little too close for your comfort, arranged in the order Seonghwa wanted them to be—naked and with hard, reddened cocks, the heads of their dicks proudly dripping pre-cum onto the floor. Around each of their necks was a thick collar connected to a chain, which Hongjoong held in his hand as he reclined lazily in a large leather chair by the fireplace with a glass of whisky in his hand. It was a kind of punishment for them. They behaved horribly and even dared to bite their little pet - Wooyoung's angry, swollen teeth marks are still visible on your thigh. Sometimes they forgot that you belonged to Seonghwa and were desperate to mate with you without him knowing or controlling them.

"They are Hwa's real bitches; they covered our floor with their semen; maybe they should clean it with their tongues? And no more games with my angel; you're going to fuck each other if you can't behave properly. No more of that sweet pussy". There is nothing but pure evil pleasure in Hongjoong's voice. God, this is going to make you leak even more. You begin to wriggle restlessly, your silken walls fluttering around the thick, hot girth of the alpha's cock.

"I-I didn't want to bite her, Alpha; she just smells so sweet, so delicious, and so fertile. I just wanted to fill her with my sperm." Wooyoung moans loudly, arching his back a little and sticking out his chubby butt, as if the very thought of it is getting his whole body ready for some hot and animal sex. His beautiful, bushy tail swishes behind him, and his crystal blue eyes darken with lust from underneath his messy, two-toned bangs. Wooyoung may be one of the most seductive wolves you've ever seen, but you belonged to Seonghwa, and Seonghwa was a god himself.

"Oh, really? Just fill the bunny with sperm, right, honey?" Seonghwa's plump lips pressed against the nape of your neck, just above the luxurious diamond collar that he had placed on you earlier. It was not enough for him to have the dark maroon bite stuck in your neck forever; he had to show it off in some way to all to whom you belonged. "Then I'll do it the right way, and maybe next time you'll have your teeth under control. In the meantime, all of you just sit there and watch me breed my princess, and don't you dare cum, needy sluts, or you won't be getting that pretty bunny cunt for a very long time."

"No, no, no, we'll be good." Mingi whined and scratched at the marble on the floor with his claws. His black, fluffy ears were flattened against his head in a pitiful way, and his beautiful, dark eyes were watering.

"Please, Alpha, we'll be good." Another sweet voice whimpered, and you glanced down through your lashes at the shiny, seductively muscular body of San.

Who the hell made a wolf look so good?

"I will think." And with those words, Seonghwa's hands grabbed your hips and literally threw you up and down on his dick. The room was filled with moans, growls, and piercing squeals from you and the wolf pups, interspersed with Hongjoong's enthusiastic, dark laughter and Seonghwa's velvety, deep moans.

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scarletwinterxx · 3 months

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just like you - dad mark lee scenario

hello ~ and we're back with another dad mark scenario. I'm so happy a lot of you seem to like this series as much as I do🥺 also, this isn't written in a particular order, I just write it based on requests/or whichever timeline the scene fits in. anyways, I hope you like it!

alsooooo I'm going to see 127 again next week😭🥺 so expect me to be in my feels again for the next few weeks hahah

if you have a request or scenario you want me to do, just send me a message I'll see what I can do😊💌

part1: day with dad mark lee

part2: another day with dad mark lee

part3: a day with the lee's

part4: (prologue) i don't know how to make eggs

part5: glitter pens and goodnight kisses with the Lee's

part6: first love and kisses

part7: naps and baby kicks

part8: then there was three

part9: just like you

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

"The kids are doing alright, Minjung is loving the music lessons. Minjee, well she's causing all kinds of trouble" you tell your dad thru the phone, he laughs heartily hearing about how his grandkids are doing

"You and Mark doing okay?" he asks

"Yep, he's actually home now. He took Minjung to piano lessons earlier so it's just us three at home"

"How about you, are you okay? Not to tired?" he asks you, even now your dad still babies you. This made you smile, imagining one day this will me Minjee and Mark.

"I'm good, I'm great. I'll call again okay? You and mom take care" you say a few more words before hanging up. You walked back downstairs to see Mark and Minjee in the living room, some cartoon was playing on the TV and both father and daughter is busy watching to notice you.

You sat down next to Mark, catching both of their attentions. Minjee smiles at you, the same way Mark did. They really do look alike.

"Your dad okay?"

"Yep, he was just asking how we're doing" You smile at him, cuddling his side.

"You know I just thought one day that's going to be you and Minjee"

Mark sits up straight making you sit up too. The little Lee looks up at her dad, a small frown on her face forming from being disturbed. She then crawls over your lap to get comfortable again.

"She's not allowed to move out, or have a boyfriend" Mark says making you laugh

"My dad probably thought so too, and look where we are now"

"Yea but she's my baby"

You laugh at your husband's cuteness, looking down at your daughter "Minjee, who's your first love"

The little girl looks up, answering with a few words she could say "Huckie"

You laugh then looked over at Mark, a confused look on his face

"Who???"

"Baby, you love who?" you asked Minjee again, the little girl smiles before answering "Hyuckieeee" she says this time Mark takes her from you

"Are you saying you love your uncle Hyuck more than me?"

"Minjee love Hyuckie" she tells her dad, meanwhile you laugh at Mark's reaction. Donghyuck has always been around ever since the kids were little, Minjung grew up having his fun uncle around much to Mark's dismay some times but you know he's thankful to have his bestfriend around.

After Donghyuck's daughter was born, they would sometimes go on double daddy-daughter dates.

"You did not just say you love him more than me. I thought dada was your favorite" Mark frowns but Minjee just giggles

"Ah you're breaking dada's heart, let me ask you again who do you love the most" Mark asks his daughter, the little girl smiling before uttering the name once again

"Hy-"

"Dada, you love dada. I'm going to buy you all the toys and ice cream and whatever you want" then he attacks her with tickles and kisses making the little girl laugh.

"You're only 2 and you're already breaking dad's heart, I don't even know what I'll do when you get an actual boyfriend"

"Do you know what my dad said before we got married?" you asked, making Mark look over at you with curious eyes

"He said he dreaded the day he would give me away, but after meeting you he can breath easier knowing it would be you I'll come home to" you smile at the memory. The words your dad said you'll forever remember.

"He cried so much during our wedding" he mumbles, taking one of your hands to hold it in his. Caressing the band you're wearing, the very same one he also has.

"You would to, I can see it" you smile, "And I love you so much for that, to know that our daughter would grow up with that much love and care. She would know what true love is because you showed her that"

He smiles at you then looks down at Minjee then back at you, "Oh dang I'm gonna cry, I can't even think when that day comes"

You giggle before cuddling him again, this time he hugs you close. Both of his girls in his arms. "We got a long way to go, for now you need to beat Hyuck first" you joke

"Oh you already know it"

#story #tags #nct #nct 127 #nct dream #nct fluff #nct dad #nct imagine #nct au #nct mark #mark lee #mark lee imagine #mark lee scenario #mark lee au #mark lee fluff #mark lee husband #mark lee dad

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lunacyxxx · 4 months

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Differences Aside

MDNI Ghost and Konig are your plugs, but what you didn't know was that they were each other's opps. So, one day you decided to buy from both of them. It was like one of them always had something the other didn't.

You were already kind of high when you were talking to them and thus, here's the tale of how you ended up between two sworn enemies.

Contains: drug use, dominant masked men and fingering nd stuff

not proofread, idk how many words this is. I hope yall enjoy it.))

The sun was going down and you just finished all your tasks for the day. It was time to reward yourself with your normal routine of getting high, you entered your home and smiled excitedly. You quickly make haste to your bedroom getting undressed and going into your personal bathroom, you turn on your shower and begin your nightly routine.

You came out in a towel and went to your closet putting on a long t-shirt and spandex shorts. Music sounded through your room when you connected your phone to your speaker and sat at your desk. The bottom drawer to your left had all your goodies in it, you noticed you were on your last nug.

Coincidentally, you got a text from your plug Ghost.

Ghost: new pack came in, lmk what you want and how much luv.

One thing about Ghost, despite his intimidating appearance, he had a soft spot for you. Honestly when he first pulled up to your place, he wasn't expecting someone who looked like you to smoke. He was surprised when you gave him some extra cash for gas so since then, he's always made sure you got what you wanted and sometimes added in a little extra.

You smiled at his text and replied asking to see his menu, he sent it a couple minutes later and you looked over it. He wasn't lying when he said new because some of this stuff you've never heard of before. You pondered over your choices as you rolled up, "Hmm."

You: I'll take the (fave cereal) edible and a 3.5 of Alaskan Thunder Fuck please and thank you :)

Ghost: Okay darling, I'll be over there in about 2 hours. This would normally be $50 but for you its $30, see you soon

You like his message and light your joint taking in a steady inhale, moving over to your bed you open your window and pull up your laptop to watch youtube. About an hour later, you finished your joint and was watching YouTube until your phone lit up with another text.

Konig: I got new stuff for you to try ;)

Ah Konig, the tallest dude you've ever laid eyes on. How ya'll met was kind of funny, he had the wrong address and was parked outside your home when you went outside to get the mail. He got out of his car and came up to you and thought you were the customer who placed an order earlier that day.

You two talked and he realized he made a typo in the gps, but you still ended up buying something from him since Ghost was out of town for that week. Talk about good luck, right? So like Ghost, he sometimes adds an extra and gives you discounts.

Konig sent you his list and he had new shit too.

You: I'll take one of your carts, you can choose whichever one you wanna give me and a 3.5 of GSC please and thank you.

Konig: Of course, you know I got you. It's gonna be $30 for you."

You liked his message and leaned over to your nightstand grabbing your wallet and taking out the cash you needed.

The cool summer air brushed your skin when you stepped outside to wait for your plugs to pull up, the familiar rumble of Ghost's car and Konig's truck coming down the opposite sides of the street. Ghost parked on the curb and Konig pulled into your driveway.

They both got out, Ghost stood at 6 '4, wearing black sweats a black long sleeve and of course his skull balaclava. Konig hopped out his truck, standing at 6 '10 he wore his sniper hood, gray hoodie and black jeans.

The two men caught sight of each other, and they both pulled out their pistols ready to shoot, "Now wait a damn minute!” The both of them jumped at your sudden yell.

"First of all, this is what we're not gonna do. Especially in front of my house. Secondly, what the hell is y'all problem?"

"Tell me why the fuck he's here first!" they both said, the differences in their accents now very apparent and you felt a very slight ache down there. (iykyk)

"Uh because y'all are my plugs? I can't have two plugs, you both end up having different stuff that hits hard; especially when I mix the two together."

“We actually don’t get along at all," Konig said, eyeing you.

"Yeah, something like this isn't supposed to happen,” Ghost spat out while glaring at Konig

A look of realization crossed your face and you looked between the both of them, "How about you put your differences aside and let's all smoke. I don't really care for stuff like this unless someone I know, and love is involved and stuff. I mean, neither of you shot one another yet sooo."

The two men looked at you then at each other before lowering their weapons, both of them mumbling something under their breaths. You walked over to Konig and gave him the money; in turn he gave you a medium baggie which was new.

You then walked over to Ghost and paid him and he gave you a bag that was around the same size as Konig's. Neither of them would admit they liked pulling up to give you your weed, they often invited you inside their vehicles to chat and show you some of the other products they had.

"I forgot to ask, do either of you have more things to do, I don't wanna stop your bag or anything."

Ghost shook his head and Konig spoke up, "I always save the best for last. Why do you think you always get a little something extra meine liebe?"

Ghost rolled his eyes and scoffed, "I hate to agree with his ass but same here. I'm free for the rest of the night."

"Mkay, now that's settled we can go inside. I should have one of y'all roll, out here just pulling guns on each other and shit." You lead them into your home, the living room has a comfortable sectional with a matching ottoman. There was a mounted tv with your entertainment center underneath it, a bookshelf with books, crystals and all your favorite things.

"Make yourselves comfortable and no fighting, I do have a cast iron skillet and won't hesitate to pop someone with it." You ignore the chuckles coming from both men as they sit on opposite sides of the couch, not without mean mugging each other until you come back with your rolling tray, water and some snacks.

You scooch past Konig while saying excuse me before you sit in the space between them, and thus the smoke session commences.

After about 30 minutes, all three of you were slouched on the couch completely zooted watching Planet Earth. (A/N: idk about y'all but that's the best thing to watch when you're high asf, speaking from experience)

"That lizard has some fucking balls running through all those snakes," Konig commented. You and Ghost nodded, the both of you completely tapped into the show. Over the course of the session, you were sandwiched between them, their thick thighs pressing against your own.

Ghost looked over at you, his eyes red and half opened while they took in your appearance. His eyes flickered up only to catch Konig doing the same thing, Ghost felt a bit ballsy so he put his arm over your shoulder pulling you closer to him.

"Uh?"

Konig saw this and slipped an arm around your waist, also pulling your hips to him. "Hey, what's up with the both of you?"

You looked between the two of them and you could feel the tension building slightly, you honestly liked the idea of your two plugs showing you this much attention. Yet you hoped it wouldn't turn into some type of blood bath anytime soon, "If you guys wanted to cuddle, you could've just asked."

"Let's see who can make her cum the most," Ghost said. You could feel Konig readjust his grip to hold your hips and squeeze them slightly. "Well, I'm already where I need to be. I call going first, as long as meine liebe is okay with it. Ja?" The way the taller man stared you down through his hood had you shook, his red eyes portraying more than just being under the influence. You couldn't stop yourself from nodding.

"We need you to say it darling, if not then we can pretend this never happened."

Not wanting to lose this once in a lifetime opportunity, you gave them the answer they were looking for. "Yes, I'm fine with that."

You felt your shorts being pulled away and cool hands going under your shirt, Ghost moved with a sense of dominance and roughness while Konig too expressed his dominance but in a slightly possessive manner.

Ghost adjusted himself so one leg was on the couch and your back was pressed to his broad chest. Konig gripped your thighs and spread them open with a satisfied huff.

Konig admired your bare pussy before lifting his mask up and diving right in, his tongue lapping at your clit before tracing through all the creases and folds to get a better taste of you. Your moans and lewd slurps echoed through the living room. His tongue moving slowly, as if he wanted to map out each curve a dip of your core.

"Don't forget that I'm here," Ghost murmured. His hands were massaging your breasts and playing with your nipples under your shirt, the overload of the difference in the way they were handling you turns your mind to mush.

You could only imagine how they acted once they got you where they wanted, Ghost took a hold of your throat. His lips brushing past your ear as he bit it, he tilted your head back and looked down at you.

His lustful gaze causing your pussy to clench, Konig noticed the moment you two were having and pushed two fingers inside of your sopping pussy. He angled them up and began thrusting them, Ghost kept your focus on him while he eyed Konig.

The two of them having a heated stare down while you wiggled between them.

Your juices were soaking the Austrian's hands as he slowly worked them in and out of your slick heat, lewd wet noises mingled with your moans in the hazy living room. Konig pushes his fingers upwards trying to find that spongy spot that he knows will drive you crazy, Ghost watches him work his fingers inside of you. His own erection throbbing in his pants, Simon pinches and rolls your nipples between his thumb and forefinger ensuring that he was making you moan louder.

His hand is still around your throat keeping you in place.

Your breath hitches in your throat when Konig finally finds that spot, he hums and presses on your lower tummy. “There we go, take that shit y/n,” Konig growls before jerking his digits in and out of your pussy roughly. Simon held you close to him, cutting off your air supply slightly while he watches you come undone. His large hands move to grab your wrists to prevent you from pushing Konig away.

At this point you couldn't control your mewls and your thighs were quaking, broken moans leave your gaping mouth as you feel a strong coil in the pit of your tummy. You try to tell Konig to slow down but your words only come out as quivering babbles.

Your feet plant themselves on the couch as your hips buck under Konig’s hand, you throw your head back on Ghost’s shoulder crying out as that coil snaps and you gush all over Konig’s hand and face.

"Bedroom. Now,” the both of them were surely going to break you.

#ghost cod #konig x reader #konig cod #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader x konig #konig x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #konig

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byechristopher · 5 months

Note

loveeed your fwb chris headcanons can you do a confession fic ab it that is all angsty and shit where he’s high and confesses or where reader confesses? whatever you want

I Want More.

– CHRIS STURNIOLO ANGST & FLUFF.

Author's note: thank you so much for the request! I hope you all like it, cuties.🤍 Mwuah. Do not copy/steal my work. :)

Warnings: mentions of sex, alcohol, nothing too much!

"No strings attached, okay? You can hook up with other people if you want, it's none of my business."

"I wouldn't actually mind being with you, you know?"

"Well, yes, I'm just.. relationships are not for me. Sorry."

The words that he said to me when we first started appear in my head every single time he is in my sight. It could be because it hurt so much that I cannot forget, it could also be for the better – because to get hurt is the only way to move on, apparently. Whichever it was, it hurt.

His hand wakes me up from my thoughts when it goes up to my hair, stroking it, "wanna meet tonight?" Chris whispers in my ear, our whole friend group is next to us but he doesn't really seem to care anyway.

"Yes. My house." I nod and he smiles, his hand rubbing up and down my thigh.

And tonight comes. He's all over me, inside me, I kiss him everywhere, he's rough and I love it, I pull his hair, he squeezes me, I scratch his skin, it's messy. One of those nights, that we both need to let it out. Once we're done, he pulls me into a big hug, his hand bringing mine close to his mouth so that he can kiss it.

"You're beautiful." he says and my heart beats a little faster at that. It's amazing; that power that he has on me.

"So are you." I whisper.

He leaves. My hearts shatters.

Another day, we're hanging out again. He's stealing kisses with every chance that he gets, my cheek, my neck, my shoulder. He caresses my thighs under the blanket, he plays with my fingers.

I tell him I want him. I whisper.

"My house, 8PM." he says.

And again, 8PM comes, I'm at his house, he's alone. He takes me by the hand and makes me follow him to his room – he's got candles all over the room, flowers. Is this a dream?

I can't wait, I can't keep my hands to myself. I slowly hug him from behind, kissing from the nape of his neck, all the way down to his lower back, undressing him very slowly. He does the same thing to me too. The night goes on, he's so slow, so gentle, he's filling me with his love and its so overwhelming that I want to cry, he seems overwhelmed too. He whispers sweet nothings in my ear and touches me with ways no one has ever done before. He tells me he loves me. I hold on to him and we both look desperate and filled with love for each other as he makes love to me.

When we're done, the dream is over. He's still holding me, he's still whispering his usual i love you's in my ears but there's something inside me that weighs me down, something that can utterly destroy me, "Chris. I think we need to stop this thing between us." he freezes.

"What? Why?" he whispers.

"I don't feel like doing it anymore, sorry. It's for the better." I try to be as cold as possible, because if I actually say all the things I want to say, I feel like I will scream and cry till my voice is lost.

It's been quite a few days since we last spoke and every time I think about it, the image of him covering himself with his blanket, looking devastated when I left, always comes to mind. I feel bad but I need to be selfish this time.

A call rudely interrupts my thoughts and I sigh – a call? It's 3AM. I check the screen and I see his name. My hearts races.

"Hello?"

"Come outside. I want to see you." he almost slurs. He's either drunk, or high. Or both.

"Go back home, Chris. I wanna sleep."

"I'm not leaving. Please." he sniffles.

I sigh and hang up. I walk towards the door and I stand there for a few seconds, taking a deep breath before opening it.

There he is. With his hoodie and his jeans. His eyes are red and his hair is a mess.

"You'll get cold. Go home." I whisper and he comes closer.

"I don't care. I wanted to be with you." his voice is hoarse.

"Why?" I look at him, hugging myself because shit, it actually is very cold.

"We need to talk." he nods to himself.

"We have nothing to talk about, Chris. You made it very clear that you wanted nothing but sex. I did, too. But I knew I felt something deeper." I say and he comes closer but I stop him, "no. I am talking. You kept messing with my head, making love to me, getting all romantic and shit, bringing flowers everywhere – that's not how friends with benefits are, Chris." I sigh.

He chews on his bottom lip nervously, "I don't know how to do this. I thought you liked how things were." he says.

"I did! But it got too much for me, Chris. I want more. And until you grow a pair and admit to yourself that you are able to fall in love too, that you want this as much as I do, I want nothing to do with you." I clear my throat.

He clenches his jaw and I notice that his eyes are glistening, like he is about to cry, "so is this the end?"

"I suppose so. Yes." I desperately try to gold back my own tears. He nods and turns around. He's not moving just yet but I can't watch him leave again, so I close the door behind him and I feel my world crumbling.

What was I thinking? That I would change him? That he would finally admit that he loves me too? That we would live the dream together? That he would just give me a kiss and tell me that he wants to be with me? How embarrassing.

That's it.

The next day, my heart hurts like a bitch, but I feel like a weight has been lifted off my chest for once. Maybe it's because I finally told him how I felt. And maybe because I got an answer, too – he doesn't want to be with me. It hurts, but it's an answer.

A knock on the door wakes me up again and I walk towards it, only to see an envelope. Someone must've pushed it inside. I get a little scared to open the door right away and I don't have a peephole so I just decide to open the envelope.

"I decided that since I have never been able to talk about my feelings, because I'm too much of a fucking coward, I will just write everything down and I will have to find the courage to give it to you.

I don't know why I've got such a problem expressing my feelings like a fucking adult should, but I can't stand the thought of losing you, let alone losing you because of me being a coward. So this letter is for you (I know how much you like all this sappy shit and worst part is, you made me like them too).

I've been in love with you since the day we started "officially" being friends with benefits. You know I couldn't keep my hands off of you, or my eyes. I would get jealous and possessive because you know I never want anyone else to touch you like I do. Or see you like I do. I made love to you because this was the only way to express my love for you – your heart would beat so fast and I would want to cry from how much you filled me with love and passion. Is that normal? I honestly don't know.

Anyways, for an asshole who doesn't know how to speak properly, I think I've written enough. If you think that this letter is me finally growing a pair, then please open the door because it's really fucking cold.

PS – this time my i love you's are changed."

I am ugly crying by the time I finish the letter, but I don't care because I open the door and Chris is outside, crying as well.

"I can't lose you. I promise, I will try for you. I will do anything for you." he whispers.

I quickly throw my arms around him, burying my face in his chest, hugging him so tightly that if I was stronger, he would stop breathing for sure, "I love you, Chris."

"I am in love with you too."

"Your handwriting still sucks."

"Fuck off."

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irkimatsu · 26 days

Note

AHHHHHH I love Husk and your content is by far my FAVORITE 😍 the sweet, the smut, the little bit of both...I love it all.

So I have a cute idea for this one. Neko!reader x husk. The reader isn't fully cat, but has the ears and tail, a cat-like face and of course the mannerisms. Husk is crushing hard and thinks that she (or they, whichever pronouns :) ) is cute and nonchalantly points out that it's adorable when her ears twitch. And then she's like, "And you wonder why we're always messing with you, eyy Kitten?" which makes him all flustered and he can't even say anything.

I can just picture them doing the equivalent of holding hands only their tails wrapped around each other 😚😚

Thank you so much for enjoying my writing!

I envisioned Reader as an anthro like Husk; I'm hoping that's what you meant with your description! Reader gets drunk and rants to Husk about cat instincts, Husk offers some advice, light flirting and flustered Husk ensues. I hope this is close enough to what you wanted! 1.2k words, SFW, female reader!

---

You’ve had way too much to drink.

It’s not like you’re inexperienced at drinking; you knew the hard stuff you were knocking back would be enough to get you wasted. That was the point. Maybe if you got drunk enough, you could shut off the stupid cat instincts that hadn’t left you alone since the moment you died. The exercises you’ve been doing at this hotel for the past few months may have taught you things like not stealing and believing in the power of friendship, but there hadn’t yet been any lessons on how to stop swiping at your own tail every time it entered the corner of your field of vision.

You’re not sure if the alcohol has turned off the instincts, but it sure has turned on your mouth. Without thinking about what you’re saying, you’ve been ranting to the bartender for the past thirty minutes, barely pausing to take a breath. Surely he doesn’t mind, right? Not only are bartenders supposed to listen when their customers want to bitch, but he’s in the exact same position as you are as far as species goes!

“...and the fuckin’ hairballs!” is the latest thought in your stream of word vomit. “I thought mucus was bad! Hairballs! They get stuck in my throat, and they itch like hell until I can cough ‘em up!”

“They sell stuff down here to take care of that,” the bartender says, pouring you another drink without you asking. “It tastes like shit, but it works. I don’t get ‘em anymore unless I forget to drink it.”

“And what about shedding?!” you continue on as if he didn’t say anything. “It’s impossible to keep my room clean! It’s like the more I clean up, the more fur there is!”

“Niffty’s been helpin’ me with that since I met her. She gets pissed about the fur I leave everywhere otherwise. She ain’t gentle with that brush, though.”

You take another gulp of your drink and slam it down onto the bar. “Fuck, think I just swallowed some fur…”

“You haven’t even been dead for a year yet, right?” Husk asks. “ That’s barely anything. Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of time to get used to being a cat. Some of the bullshit never goes away, but it becomes part of you.”

“Do you like being a cat?” you ask.

He laughs at your question. “Hell no! But what choice do I have? There’s no going back to bein’ human for any of us. May as well learn how to deal with it.” He takes a gulp of his own drink, not even bothering to pour it into a glass. “If ya want, I can take you to a good supply place sometime. They’ve got good products if you can put up with the fact that it looks like a fuckin’ pet store.”

“Hmm…” you neither accept nor deny his offer. You only take another drink, swallowing more damn fur in the process. That’s definitely gonna lead to some late-night hairballs. “It’s so annoying…” you whine as you plop your chin on the bar. “Why couldn’t I have been something cool? You know I saw a giant lizard the other day? Lucky bastard…”

“Bet they have a hell of a time findin’ clothes,” he says. “Or even gettin’ into places to begin with.”

“And even you got wings…” you continue on.

“Yeah. Wings. I get to clean up after fur and feathers, and if I don’t find the perfect position while sleeping the fuckin’ things go numb.” He takes your glass away, but you’re too lost in your own self-pity to protest. “We’ve all gotta get used to our new bodies when we get down here, and I doubt it’d be any different if we somehow got into heaven. Just gotta make the best of it.” He turns around to put away some bottles. “Besides, it’s not all bad. At least you’re cute.”

“...what was that?” you say, not expecting that word out of Husk’s mouth.

“I said you’re cute. Everyone thinks cats are cute, don’t they? Even I liked ‘em when I was alive. I don’t want to be one, but you can’t resist their mannerisms, can ya? The big eyes, the soft fur…”

He turns around just in time to see your right ear flicking in annoyance from the condescension. “The twitchy ears…”

You smirk, knowing the weight of what you’re about to say next but too drunk to stop yourself. “So now you get why Angel and I are always commenting on your mannerisms, eh, kitty?”

“Whoa! Hey!” His fur bristles, and you know you shouldn’t find his own agitation cute, but you can’t help yourself. It helps you understand the way he was just talking to you, at least. “That’s different! You’re a young lady! You died at, what, 25? You’re supposed to be cute! I’m an old man who drank myself to death. Nothin’ cute about that.”

“You’ve still got the big eyes and the soft fur…” you continue on.

He groans in response. “If you were a stranger saying that shit to me, I’d kill you.”

“So what makes me so special?” Your tail waves playfully behind you, and he’s obviously following it with his eyes and blushing.

“I…” he starts, but never manages to come up with the rest of the sentence. “Jesus Christ,” is all he has to offer before grabbing a couple of glasses from the shelf. He fills them both with water, then carries them around to the other side of the bar.

“Here,” he says as he sets one of the glasses in front of you. “Drink this. You’re gonna feel like shit in the morning. May as well not be dehydrated on top of everything else.”

You stare at the cup as he takes a seat on the stool next to you. “How do you resist the urge to knock cups over?” you ask.

“Lots of self-control,” he says with a smirk before guzzling his glass in one go.

You place your paw on the side of the glass, originally intending to pick it up, but an overwhelming spark takes over your brain, and you start easing the cup toward the edge of the bar. Husk grabs it and places it back where it started before it can crash to the floor.

“You’ll get used to it,” he assures you. He’s finished his water, but for a reason you can’t determine, he’s still sitting next to you.

“How long have you been down here?” you ask. “A couple years?”

“Mmm… fifty?” he guesses. “Almost as long as I was alive, at this point.”

“Fifty years?!” you exclaim. “And you still have to deal with cat instincts?!”

He shrugs. “Like I said, it never goes away. Just gotta get used to it, take the good with the bad.”

“The good…” you repeat. “Like being cute?”

“Oh, shut up,” he says. “...but in your case… yeah. Like being cute.”

You finally manage to pick up your water without giving into the desire for destruction. As you take a sip, something feathery starts to tickle against your tail. You look over at Husk from the corner of your eye. He’s trying to be nonchalant, not even looking at you, but there’s only one thing that could be brushing against you right now.

Without looking, you shift your tail, allowing it to curl around Husk’s. Husk curls his around yours in turn, your tail tips forming a spiral that just barely reaches the floor.

It’s the closest he’ll get to flirting for now. You’ll take what you can get.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel husk x reader #hazbin husk x reader #irk blubbers about nothing #irk got asked a thing #irk talks to strangers #irk huskposts

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kirain · 2 months

Text

I made a seven-day poll asking what everyone wanted me to write for a BG3 short story, but I don't think I have to wait to know "Gale summoning Tara" will win by a landslide. That said, I promise to also write a short for whichever theme comes in second, if people are still interested. In the meantime, I give you Gale summoning Tara!

Partly inspired by @ah-jiing's gorgeous art.

The boy clung to his mother's skirt, hiding behind her, his cheeks stained with tears. Elminster looked at him, then at the state of the house. An unconscious mephit lay withered in the corner, surrounded by scorch marks. The carpet; what was left of it, had taken the brunt of the damage, but the entire living room was trashed beyond repair—and it was perfect. The boy had potential if he could summon such a creature on his own, and with no formal training besides.

"Impressive," Elminster chuckled, scratching his beard. "Most university students struggle to summon mephits. It's not easy to pull them out of Eberron, especially if they don't want to leave."

"Impressive?!" the father yelled, causing the boy to flinch. "This is the fourth time his 'magic' has caused irreparable damage! No more!" He turned to his son, his eyes burning. "I never should've let your mother buy you those fanciful books. Later today, when I get home from work, I'm gathering every single one and tossing them in the ocean!"

The boy gasped, horrified. "No!"

"Don't you 'no' me." He raised his hand, threateningly. "I'm done paying for your mistakes. Every time you ruin something in this house, it costs me a bloody fortune! I ought to—!"

"That's enough, Alexis," the mother said, sternly. "I did far worse when I was in my teens. He's barely eight summers old. He just needs a mentor."

"No, Morena. He needs to stop. He needs a hobby. He needs friends!"

"That's what I was trying to do!" the boy cried. Elminster shifted as the parents fell silent. "I was trying ... I was trying to summon a tressym!"

"Not this again." The father sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose in annoyance, as well as exhaustion. "I already told you, no pets! This house is already in shambles. We don't need an animal to add to it."

"Alexis, you're being unfair. You expect him to stay inside all day, learning about your trade, and then wonder why he doesn't have any friends."

"He doesn't have any friends because the other children around here are scared of him. Have you forgotten what he did to that girl?!"

The boy whimpered, the memory invading his thoughts. Once again, the parents fell silent, the mother giving her husband a disapproving glare. After a moment, she knelt down with a warm smile and ran her thumb across her son's cheek.

"Gale, sweetheart, go to your room for a bit. Can you do that for me?"

The boy hesitated, holding his mother's hand against his face, grateful for the comfort. His eyes twitched, then welled with tears. Elminster watched patiently, taking note of their bond. He could sense the mother's affinity for magic, but the father displayed no such talent. Rather, an obvious aversion to it. The realisation made him scoff. It was always a mystery to him, why one with knowledge of the arcane would settle for the most mundane of partners, but he held his tongue. He was there for one reason, and that reason was breaking down in front of him.

"Gale," the mother repeated. "It's alright, sweetheart." She pulled him into a merciful hug. "It's alright. I know you didn't mean it."

"I'm sorry..." he muttered, melting in her embrace. "I'm sorry, mommy. Please don't take my books away."

"Shh, we're not going to take your books away.

The father lurched forward. "Morena, I just said—!"

"We're not going to take your books away," she snapped. "Now please, go to your room. I'll bring you some lunch come noon."

The boy pulled away, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. He sniffed quietly, his jaw tense as he tried to compose himself. As he stepped around his mother, he leaned away from his father, but looked up at Elminster with a brief gaze of shame and curiosity. He had no idea who the old man was or why he was there, but he was too upset to ask. Instead, he dashed to his room, slamming the door behind him.

"Morena, I know you mean well, but you coddle that boy."

"I don't want to hear it, Alexis. He's your son, but you've made absolutely no attempt to share his interests."

"Maybe that's because I don't want to get my eyebrows singed off. I'm not like you. I can't just shield myself from his outbursts."

"They're not 'outbursts'. You act as though he's some kind of delinquent. I've never seen him use magic in a moment of anger, not even when the neighbourhood children push him around. Most of the time his spells are harmless, and you're wrong to focus so heavily on his mistakes."

"You're wrong to brush them aside. Mistakes like these get people killed! The housekeeper damn near pissed herself when she walked in on that ... that thing! I don't think she's coming back!"

"She overreacted. If she hadn't started screaming, the mephit wouldn't have panicked."

"The mephit?! Morena, she had every right to 'overreact'. Most people don't come face to face with fiends everyday!"

"It's not a fiend, Alexis, it's an elemental. Loyal to the one who summoned it." With a grunt, she snapped her fingers, and the motionless creature disappeared in a puff of smoke. "There. I've sent it home. No harm done."

"No harm—?" He stared at the now empty space, then groaned, defeated. "Morena, this is getting out of hand. I can't keep doing this. I-I can't support this. I have to put my foot down. No more books, no more magic."

"It's not a choice, Alexis. I've never seen a child with such keen aptitude for magic. It's like it's in his blood. Either we teach him how to harness it or it'll boil over."

"Don't. Don't even try it. I'm no fool, Morena. He's not a sorcerer. This isn't wild magic. It's not spilling out of him like a sieve. He can stop any time we choose to make him."

Elminster cleared his throat, loudly.

"Oh, yes. Forgive us," Morena sighed. "I had hoped to welcome you under ... merrier circumstances."

"Fear not." He waved his hand, jauntily. "This isn't the first mess I've walked in on when it comes to gifted children, and I doubt it will be the last."

"Gifted?" The father squeaked. "Gifted?!"

"Indeed. You'd admonish your son when you should be praising him. As I said earlier, most university students fail to summon a mephit." He turned his attention to the mother. "Did I hear you rightly? He's only eight?"

"Yes, and only just. By a few weeks."

"Incredible."

"I know," she giggled. "I could hardly believe it when the housekeeper came running to me about a 'winged beast' setting fire to the parlor."

"Have you both lost your senses?!" the father interjected. "Morena, who is this man?"

She caught her breath, pushing her pride for her son aside. "This is Elminster Aumar. Remember? I told you he'd be visiting us today. He wrote to me a tenday ago, asking about Gale. It seems word of our little wizard has reached beyond Waterdeep."

"Do not call him that!" The man hissed. "He's not a wizard, he's a boy. A normal boy. I told you, this ends today. No more books, no more spells, no more fiends or bats or whatever you want to call them. No more magic! He'll be an artisan like me and he'll like it. You just have to stop filling his head with nonsense." He pointed to Elminster. "And you—" He went to speak, his tone harsh, but he paused and collected himself, if only to save face. "I'm sorry you travelled all this way from ... wherever you're from, but I'm afraid your services are no longer needed."

"How dare you," Morena whispered, her voice low but laced with fury. "When you married me, you knew this was a possibility. We talked about it. You were fine with it."

"That was before he started tormenting little girls with necromancy!" He let out a long, winded breath. "Morena, this isn't right. You said it yourself, magic like this is beyond a child's comprehension. He shouldn't even be able to—!"

"If I may inquire?" Elminster asked, careful not to incense the father further. "I'm here because I know, better than most, how difficult it can be to raise a Weave-touched child. I can see the strain it's putting on you, and as a neutral party, I can attest you both make valid points. So please, tell me about the necromancy, and let's try to keep a level head. This is about your son, after all. About his future. If you'll accept it, I'm willing to share my expertise."

The parents exchanged glances, then looked away from each other, embarrassed. The father, without a word, walked away and leaned against the wall, his eyes falling to the cinders on the floor. Elminster could tell he was at his wits' end, but he felt very little sympathy. His desire to stifle such beautiful talent, to hold magic in such low regard—it was an affront to Mystra herself.

"He wasn't trying to 'torment' anyone," the mother chimed. "He was just trying to help."

"Tell me what happened."

"There's a girl who lives a few doors down from us. Loria. She had a songbird she kept in her room, but somehow it got out of its cage and flew into a window outside. As I'm sure you can imagine, the impact broke its neck. When Gale found her, she was weeping in the street, holding the poor thing in her hands. He only ... he only wanted to help. To make her feel better."

"Enough," Elminster said, sensing the woman's mouthing distress. "I understand."

"No you don't!" the father barked. "When he brought that thing back, its limbs twisted in every direction, squawking like it was in pain. He wounded that poor girl more than the bird's death ever could have."

"You're overlooking the fact that it was all well intentioned," Morena argued. "And magic like that is practically impossible for a child his age. It's a miracle he managed to reanimated it at all."

"That doesn't excuse it!"

"I didn't say it did! If we just teach him when and where it's acceptable to use magic, as well as how to perfect his skills—"

"Morena!"

"Magic is part of him!" she screeched, clenching her fists. "You need to accept that!"

"I'm afraid she's right," Elminster added. "Gale may not be a sorcerer, but the Weave has called to him. It has plans for him. Mystra has plans for him."

The father paled, his anger waning in an instant. "The goddess?"

"Yes. Taking his books, depriving him of proper study, it won't placate him. Magic flows through him like molten lava, and lava cannot be tamed. I know the toll this has taken on you, but your son is no mere boy. Not anymore."

"Is that so? Then what exactly is he?"

Elminster smiled. "A prodigy."

-----

Gale paced about his room, gripping his hair as his chest heaved. He couldn't figure out where he went wrong. He didn't mispronounce any of the words, and the mephit, though not what he intended to summon, was peaceful until the housekeeper tried to smack it with a broom.

In a fit of emotions, he dropped to the floor and buried his head in his knees, squeezing them tightly. He didn't want to be alone anymore, and he hated his father's cruelty, but maybe he was right. Images of Loria screaming over her bird flashed in his mind, the guilt overwhelming him. First her, then the housekeeper. He never wanted to hurt anyone, he only wanted a friend.

"Why didn't it work?" he sobbed, his nails digging into his trousers. "Is it me? Tressyms only come to the pure of heart, so maybe I'm just not..."

He wept, for a long time. When he lifted his head, his eyes were swollen and heavy, his mouth sore. With a sniffle, he wiped his nose, then looked to his dresser; to the small ornate jar sat on the far corner. Though he felt too numb to stand, he forced himself to his feet and retrieved it, and then he shook it back and forth, rattling the coins inside.

"That was mother's favourite carpet..." He popped the lid and poured the coins onto the dresser. "Not much, but better than nothing, I guess."

With a pained frown, he began separating each coin by value, counting what was there. It was the least he could do, he thought, to make up for his blunder. He truly loved magic, but he never wanted to hurt anyone with it; least of all the people who cared for him the most.

"One hundred and twenty," he said, mournfully. "That carpet ... cost seventeen times that." He gulped, staving off another rush of tears. "So much for our vacation to Neverwinter. Looks like I ruined that, too."

With one swift motion, he swept the coins back into the jar, then moved to take it to his mother, hoping it would make an apt apology. Before reaching the door; however, he gasped, his body freezing. His eyes widened, his back arching as he dropped the jar to the floor.

"Never ... winter?"

A sudden burst of clarity. Of inspiration. He ran to his bookshelf and grabbed a large, leather bestiary from the lineup. As big as his torso, he struggled to lift it, but dragged it to his bed with a determined limp, then dropped it on the mattress.

"That old man said mephits come from Eberron. So maybe ... maybe my spell was too expansive. I need to narrow it down."

For several minutes, he flipped through the pages, tracing the sentences with his finger. Finally, he came across the passage that answered his prayers, and he grinned.

Most tressyms hail from the warm, temperate lands of Faerûn, and are most commonly seen in northern Cormyr, particularly in the village of Eveningstar.

"This is it!"

With renewed vigor, he wrenched up the rug in the middle of his room, revealing a large casting circle painted on the floor; a seven-pointed star surrounded by glyphs. His excitement brimming, he grabbed a quill and wrote 'Neverwinter' in the northern triangle, then tossed it aside and positioned himself in the center. All the mayhem of that morning and the consequences it incurred seemed to fade as he took a deep, calming breath.

"I can do this. I can do this."

Slowly, he clapped his hands together, his mind fixated on what he wanted most. As the magic swirled inside him, ready to serve, his hair stood on end, but not out of fear. Exhilaration. He couldn't help but smile as he closed his eyes and chanted the words, "Ah-Thran Mystra-Ryl Kantrach-Ao."

Immediately, the scent of rosewater filled the air, tickling his nose and tongue. It was sweet and welcoming, a sensation he'd grown to crave on an almost daily basis. It made him feel safe. Seen. As streams of azure and violet whirled around him, he lifted his hands above his head and faced the ceiling.

"Ang'alor ko malo fynndo Virr e'etu fem'molij!"

A gust of wind erupted through the room, so powerful it sent several objects flying through the air, but Gale held strong, his arms shaking as a mass of bright colours exploded from his fingertips. His arms shook, the deluge of dancing lights twisting from a shapeless husk into something more familiar. Then, he heard a soft mew in the distance, causing him to gasp. He'd opened a rift, and before long a small feather blew though and brushed against his cheek.

"My word!" a feminine voice echoed. "This is most irregular. Who is—?"

An abrupt and blinding flash, then a weight that nearly brought Gale to his knees. He winced, blinking rapidly to regain his senses—and when he did, his eyes fell upon the face of a cat, which he unknowingly cradled in his arms, her paws pushing against his chest. In that moment, words failed him, his mouth hanging open in a daze.

"I say, who are you?" the creature asked, her ears twitching.

She wasn't angry or frightened, merely confused, but a quick glance around her esoteric surroundings answered in kind. The room was teeming with books, knickknacks, and artefacts that only one type of person would keep, and she knew that type of person well. Stretching her wings, she shuffled in the boy's arms, making herself more comfortable.

"I see. A young wizard, are you?" She peered up at him, her bright eyes studying his face. "Hmm. Very young, it seems. Well then, that explains why you summoned me. You need a firm hand, yes? I'll warn you now, child, I expect you to take your studies seriously. I'll not abide laziness." She pulled back a bit, licking her paw. "And I trust I'll receive a steady intake of fish and pigeons? They're my favourite, I'll have you know. Well, after beholder, but I don't expect you to fetch something so dangerous on my behalf. In fact, I forbid it."

"I..." Gale's brow furrowed, his eyes gleaming.

"My name is Tara, by the bye. Perhaps I should've opened with that. Though you've neglected to tell me your name." She tilted her head, gesturing for a response, but the boy said nothing. "I see I have my work cut out for me. Manners, young man. Manners. So, what should I call you? Mister—?"

"I—I..."

"Yes? Speak clearly, dear. My hearing may be sharp, but mumbles are indecipherable, even for a tressym."

He couldn't contain his smile as he pulled the beast into a tight but careful hug, which was met with the faintest sound of purring.

"I did it!"

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #elminster #tara #tara bg3 #tara the tressym #dnd #d&d

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unrequitedloveletter · 1 year

Note

Hi! I’m back :] im here to request a platonic!crows x reader kind just want some hurt/comfort I’m feeling pretty bad atm and just don’t do well w asking for comfort?? So could I request a reader who’s just having a bad time,nothing super specific just like feeling Sad more than usual and like being a bit more distant/distracted? If your not up for writing this that’s perfectly fine too :] Have a nice day! -🍒Anon

Come Home- Platonic! crows x reader

Hi! This one is hitting really fuckin close to home right now but selfishly, I could use a good cry and I'm in the same boat as you, so we're all good!

I'm sorry you've not been feeling too great lately and I am sending you hugs and a mug of your preferred hot drink of choice! I also hope you feel better and am sending good vibes your way :)

Fic type- this is hurt/comfort but pretty heavy on the comforting!

Warnings- mentions and depictions of general sadness, mention of lack of sleep/trouble sleeping both generally and due to sadness, mentions of being unable to reach out to people in search of comfort or a place to vent, mentions of being distant (emotionally) and also isolating oneself, a 'there but not there' kind of sadness, mentions of retreating into your own thoughts/mind

The crows couldn't quite say who'd noticed it first amongst them. Nina was pretty sure they'd all noticed it around the same time, could remember the fact that it was a date in the middle of the Spring.

You'd spent a lot of time in your room in the Slat, not really talking to anyone, seemingly both content and somehow discontent in the idea of burrowing into your own thoughts, retreating into your own mind.

When you were with the others, you were distant. It was like you were there but not there all the same, responding to conversations and laughing occasionally, but Nina could see it.

She knew what it looked like to be wrapped up in ones own thoughts, and recognizing it within you was like seeing water in the middle of the ocean; it was about as obvious as the day was long.

Wylan and Jesper and Matthias picked up on that, too, then Inej and Kaz. They'd all picked up on it the same day, and were sitting at a U-shaped booth in the Crow Club to discuss it in the days after they'd noticed.

"They're not the type to ask for help," Matthias noted. "I think they'd rather struggle in silence most days then reach out and vent to someone."

"They don't directly ask to be comforted or seek out things that people would typically find comforting," Inej noted. "I don't think I've ever seen them hug someone or be hugged themselves. They handle their emotions internally, it seems."

"How do we comfort someone who does not want to be comforted?" Matthias asked. "How on earth are we meant to be subtle about it?"

"The rest of us can worry about that," Jesper said. "Matthias, Kaz, don't you worry a hair on your pretty little heads."

"Hugs and arms around shoulders aren't always how it's done," Kaz said. "There are a thousand other ways, Jesper. Comfort doesn't just have to be about physically touching someone."

"Nice gestures," Nina suggested. "I didn't think you had a nice bone in your body. I'm pleased to be wrong in that."

"Pleased to have been underestimated," Kaz said. "Matthias, you're not touch averse. We are not one and the same, so you'll just have to figure it out on your own."

Matthias scoffed, and Kaz spoke the word before he got the chance to whisper it.

"Demjin," Kaz said, taking delight in Matthias' scowl.

"All right," Wylan said. "Our plan is figured out. Find ways to subtly comfort the one of us who needs comforting and just hope they don't notice? How long do we keep that up?"

"Until they notice or they feel better," Nina said. "It's--it's whichever comes first. Stop asking questions. We'll work out the rest of the details as we go along."

Everyone nodded. Whatever qualms anyone else had about the plan went unsaid, and the world around the six of them settled with the knowledge that they were going to help you feel better, even if you never caught on.

If you never noticed, if you thought your mood was brightening naturally, if you never figured it out and never said the profuse thanks that Nina knew you would've, that would've been fine. It would've been great because you were fine again, and in the end, that was all any of them wanted.

"Brought you a coffee," Jesper said, passing you the to-go mug as he found you in the Slat. "Kaz and I were in the Harbor. Kaz needed a dose of caffeine and I figured you'd probably done without."

"It's seven and a half bells in the morning. You were on the Harbor to scout before we left, and Kaz found the time for a pit stop?"

"I did things more efficiently then he'd expected," Jesper said with a charming grin. "Had twenty kruge. Grabbed Wylan a tea, gave it to him by the Crow Club. We leave for Ravka in a quarter of an hour, and it'll take us that time to get from here to Inejs berth. Your things are on her boat?"

"Matthias helped me take my things to the boat after Nina had the gall to wake me at five bells and then bribe me with waffles. I felt like a bunny with a carrot being dangled over its head."

Jesper noticed, though, that you were smiling.

"Thank you for the coffee," you said. "Saints, was the sleepy time tea a mistake. Do you know if Kaz has any jurda on him?"

"You've been having trouble sleeping?" Jesper asked. "I mean--he's finnicky with his coffee and the grounds he imports are delayed by two weeks, so he does. He's been keeping an eye on the shipments because the idiot would rather chew his way through a mile and a half of jurda before he listened to his bodys calling for sleep."

"As for the trouble sleeping--yes. It's been a rough few weeks and my sleeping has been impacted a bit. Didn't get much before, but now it's worse. Sleepy time tea has made me sluggish even though I've been awake for two and a half hours now. The box did say that was a risk, though," you said. "As for the jurda, I'm in desperate need."

"Lucky for you, I miscalculated the amount coming in our last shipment. I've been selling it at the Crow Club to keep the pigeons at the tables longer but we've still got a surplus," Kaz said, passing you a small black velvet pouch with jurda inside.

"How long on the boat?" Jesper asked.

"A week and a half, but the boat we've got is slower then the Ferolind, so it might take as long as it took to get to Fjerda."

"Good thing I thought to get books for the trip then," you said, smile prickling the edges of your lips when you noticed Jespers expression of terror. "Wylans bringing his flute, Jes. You'll be fine."

You took a sip of your coffee as Jesper gave a shake of his head.

"You say that I'll be fine, but you'll see. At the end of our first week, I'll be begging Wylan to play something slow so that I'll fall asleep and you can toss me overboard and have me drown in peace."

"You'll manage," Kaz cut in. "You managed the first time around, didn't you?"

"Just barely," Jesper said exasperatedly. The three of you left the Slat, Wylan joining you as he walked out of the Crow Club.

You took another sip of your coffee, sighed as the contentment you'd missed creeped back in just a bit. Things had been terrible for weeks, a general feeling of sadness having wormed its way into your heart and left you feeling like a shell of the person you were. That was the first decent--albeit early--morning you'd had in what felt like forever.

Nina and Matthias were sitting on one end of the ship, you and Inej sat together on the other, in the elevated area that was reserved for the captain to keep watch of the boat and manage the wheel.

The only sound to disturb you was the waves, and it didn't disturb you at all as you leaned back in your chair and continued on with your fifth book in a week. It was a book you'd not particularly enjoyed, and a last minute grab. It was a book of sonnets that you'd grabbed on the off chance you'd be in a sonnet-y mood, and thus far, it seemed you were not.

Wylan had begun to play the flute from somewhere near the center of the ship, and as you heard it, you smiled. You looked away from your book for a moment, glancing at Wylan as you closed it, having given up.

Nina couldn't blame you for that as she noticed it, though. It grew boring to read sonnets about the love someone felt for one singular person after you'd read two of them. She had not a single clue as to how you'd managed to read fifty.

You settled simply to observe the world around you instead of reading, thumb idly tapping along to the beat of Wylans tune against the surface of the hardcover book you had in your lap.

She looked at your eyes. She knew what it looked like when a person was distant and she knew what it looked like when, albeit slowly, that person was coming back to the rest of the world.

Come on back, Y/N, she thought. We've missed you. Come back to us.

She caught your grin, caught Jesper rushing up the steps to the captains watching port. She saw him reach for your hand and grab Inejs as well. Wylan started playing a dancing song and everyone on the ship was all smiles.

Even the crew was looking giddy, though their expressions only brightened when Inej signaled for them to take a break for a dance or two.

Hell, even Nina was smiling, having only realized it when she looked at Matthias and saw he was grinning as he squeezed her hand and pulled her up, their laughter coming up naturally as they rushed toward you and Inej and Jesper.

Someone--probably Specht, as he'd unearthed a talent for it in the weeks before--was playing a violin to go along with Wylans flute. You were beaming, and Nina was beaming, and Inej and Matthias and Jesper were all smiles.

Nina caught your gaze. Just a bit more, Y/N, she thought. Come home.

You were laughing as you turned and caught sight of it, Kaz standing to Wylans left, face only slightly turned to the waves so that nobody would see his grin.

You met Ninas gaze, wiped away a tear as she gave a joyous holler.

"Yes!" she shouted. "Yes!"

"Why are you acting like someone has thrown millions of kruge on the deck?" Jesper asked.

They're home, Nina thought. The distant look in their eyes is gone. Maybe not forever, maybe just for now, but it's good enough for me.

"I'm just so happy," she said. "Oh, I love moments like these. I love them with my whole heart. They remind me of home, of dancing with classmates by the tea samovars the minute we heard music."

Inej was hugging you as tightly as she could. "Better?" she asked. "Jesper mentioned it's been a rough time."

"Better than I was, yeah," you said. Inej pulled away and the music dulled, the moment becoming somber.

Wylan joined up, as did Kaz, and you were faced by the six people you loved the most in the entirety of the world. All of them had been trying to comfort you in the two weeks before you'd boarded the boat and in the week since you had. They'd been trying to go for subtility, but you'd noticed, and you appreciated it relentlessly.

"Thank you guys," you said. "For all of it."

"You noticed?" Matthias asked.

"You laughed at my jokes, Matthias. Nina, you offered me your toffees several times. You've never done that before. Kaz has brought me books and given me jurda and let me refuse on jobs wherein I was necessary. He's said that he would find someone else if I couldn't do it and he's said it in a way that wasn't malicious. He's told me a number of times that he understands what it is to be in pain, though he admits his is a different kind. He's given me several passes when the pain was most unbearable," you said.

"Inej has let me exist in the silence and not say a damn thing, she's swayed with me to the music we hear while wandering about in the mostly empty bodegas and boutiques. Wylan has willingly played the flute and the pianoforte around even people he does not feel secure because it might just have made me smile, he's tried to get me laugh so many times in the past month that I have entirely lost count."

"Jesper, you brought me coffee and leant me your Ketterdam uni jumper. You joke more than Wylan does, and your reassurances were near constant. I know you probably didn't want me to notice, but I did. Thank you."

Everyone--excluding Kaz, of course--pulled you into a hug. Nina was more relieved then not that you'd noticed, relieved that you were feeling better than you had three weeks before. She was happy you were okay, happy that you were smiling and that you were going to be okay eventually, even if it took time to get there.

Everyone pulled away eventually, and you gave Kaz a nod. You received a nod in return and knew that it was enough.

Being with your friends on a boat on the way to a job was enough, certainly.

#kaz brekker #inej ghafa #nina zenik #matthias helvar #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #kaz brekker x reader #inej ghafa x reader #nina zenik x reader #matthias helvar x reader #jesper fahey x reader #wylan van eck x reader #six of crows #shadow and bone #shadow and bone netflix

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beggingwolf · 7 months

Note

2 - sidgeno

things you said through your teeth

"I can't allow this," said Jameson.

"Yes you can," said Babcock.

"He's one good hit away from heat. I just ran his levels. They're astronomical. It's incredible he's even lucid. He isn't fit to play."

"Yes I am," Sid lied.

He could smell Babcock from where he sat on the medical table. He didn't particularly care for what he wanted to do with an alpha so close. He didn't think Babcock was attractive at all. Yet, he wanted to part his legs and slouch back onto his palms, like Babcock could see the fleshy thickness of his thighs through his warmup sweats.

"You're not," Jameson said.

Sid's eyes flicked to the doorway, where Steve Yzerman had been standing for the last four minutes, summoned into the middle of the debate. He hadn't said a single word yet, and had just listened as Babcock and Team Canada's doctor went at each other.

"Sid wants to play," Steve finally said, "so Sid's playing. That's the end of it, Carl."

Jameson looked like he'd bit his tongue clean off. He stared at Steve, and then at Sid, clearly at a loss.

"If you get claimed out there, there isn't shit I can do," he finally said. "There isn't shit the nation of Canada can do. We're in Russia right now. We're playing by their rules. If a single one of them decides to put you down on the ice and—"

"We get the picture," Steve said dryly.

Jamesone threw up his hands and blew out of the room. Steve didn't move for him, forcing the doctor to shuffle past. He raised his eyebrows at Babcock, who shook his head wryly.

"Always the hero, Stevie," he muttered. He didn't look at Sid again before he left, which Sid knew was good and also felt instinctively displeased by. Sid was, after all, by far the most interesting thing in the room.

When it was just Sid and Steve, the older omega looked over the younger with a brutal, unimpressed scan.

"You said you were good to go."

"I am," Sid said.

"Then prove it. Get back in the locker room. They dosed you up?"

"Scent suppressors. The, ah, suppository one."

"It's not doing much," Steve told him. "You've got to put the scent collar on too. Don't fucking argue, Sidney, you're already pushing it."

Sid shut his mouth, peeved.

"We're winning that fucking medal. But you need to make sure you're a help on the ice, not a hindrance."

"I won't be."

"You need to make sure," Steve insisted, and he pinned Sid with a stare that was heavier than any look Steve had ever given him. Steve was an intense guy, but he was funny. He liked cracking a joke, and he liked being two steps ahead of you in a conversation, and he was very good at making things uncomfortable, fast, when it served his purposes. Sid had never had it directed at him.

Steve had been an omega in the league long before Sid. It had been worse then, even if it wasn't quite good now. The weight of those years was in his gaze now.

"I'll make sure," Sid said. "I'm not going to be a liability."

"Good," Steve said, abruptly breezy. "Because if you become one, I'm letting whichever Russian picks you off the ice take you. Like a can of beans off the shelf at Loblaw's."

Sid frowned at him. Steve looked back with an expression that held no mockery or frustration or anger. This was just the black-and-white of it all: Sid would either play or he wouldn't. That didn't matter as much to Steve as winning for Canada did.

"Harsh," he finally settled on, trying to make it sound like a joke even though it wasn't. Steve saw through him immediately.

"That was much kinder than I got when I was your age," Steve told him, finally moving out of the door in a clear invitation. Sid slid off the medical table and left a wet patch behind. "I don't say that to be an ass. It just was what it was, and is what it is. I want you play if you can play."

"I want that gold," Sid told him as they headed down the hallway.

"Good," Steve said. "Now keep your pants on and get it done."

Steve was one of the first omegas to do it. He was, by far, the most successful omega to ever do it. He'd been Sid's blueprint all the way through childhood, juniors, his rookie year: he kept himself in line, he kept it professional, and he focused on hockey. His meds were carefully doled out to him, and he was a functional hockey player. Steve hadn't even gotten married until he'd hung up his skates. He popped out a few kids for his wife and did the coaching thing, the GM thing, and now he was managing Team Canada. Respected, clean-cut, textbook.

Sid had all that going for him until a gangly alpha tripped over the runner in Nathalie Lemieux's foyer and sent it all to hell.

He and Geno had needed to be separated physically. Sid's collarbone and ear were mauled, bloody from Geno's bite attempt. Sid, in turn, had gouged out such a long strip from Geno's forearm that it had almost needed stitches.

They were taken to the hospital separately. They had been dosed, and then dosed again. Sid was fairly certain they'd given him a horse tranquilizer to stop the heat he'd been triggered into. The next time they'd met, it had been through a glass door at the arena. It had taken the team the better part of a year to be convinced that their new suppressant routines were trustworthy.

The problem, as it turned out, was that Sid wanted to fuck Geno very, very badly even when he wasn't being puppeted by his hormones.

The suppressants had been bad enough. With the language barrier, and the cloying, careful watch the team kept over Sid regarding alphas, it had been death by a thousand cuts. He got to see Malkin, and smell his sweaty, earthy scent, and he needed to pretend like his reaction was normal. He'd been unwilling to compromise his image and his standing with the team.

Then they'd won a Cup, and Geno had slowly come out of his shell, and his English improved by miles, and—most important of all—he kept inching closer to Sid, kept meeting his gaze across the locker room.

They'd finally fucked about it last season. It had been incredible, even outside of heat. It was real, though they hadn't had the discussion about bond marks or mates or what kind of future they envisioned. For now, Sid was still Sid: hockey player and Geno was his teammate. That Sid had a leaky cunt around Geno was incidental unless they were in bed. Or a couch. Or, memorably, the kitchen island at Sid's apartment.

The problem with it wasn't that they didn't talk about it. The problem was that the effectiveness of Sid's suppressants had slowly been changing, and it had been manageable with Geno around to tug him into a hotel room and fuck it away before it became heat. Sid didn't want more of a dose; he liked smelling what little of Geno he could. They could take care of it anyways, and self-sufficiency was always the route Sid chose to take. Their little tryst was theirs, and secret, and well-kept.

His house of cards had begun to crumble when Geno had been sent to Team Russia and Sid to Team Canada, and fraternizing wasn't punished but it wasn't encouraged. For this brief moment, they were rivals. Geno had the weight of his homeland on him, and he took it seriously. Sid, in turn, gave him the space to make his commitment easier and more obvious.

It had all been going swimmingly until he'd begun waking up sweating in his shitty dorm bed. And then his teammates had started sniffing at him.

The solution was simple in theory: Sid had to keep his pants on, his head down, and douse himself with as many scent blockers as the team had. It felt much more difficult when Sid tugged the thick fabric of the scent collar over his head and onto his neck before the final game of the Olympics. It felt like it was strangling him. The emanating odor of nothingness from it was eerie and deeply wrong.

"You stink," Kuni told him summarily in the locker room.

"Croz always stinks," Getzy said as he passed by. "This does help with the scent of, what, desperation?"

"Stuff it," Sid said. He fussed with the stitched edge of the collar; the fabric was thick, like a knee brace. It was going to restrict movement. He hated it.

But when Benn walked by and the corner of Sid's mouth grew wet with saliva, he accepted he had no other choice.

Geno spotted the protective collar the moment Sid stepped onto the ice. His gaze burned into Sid's helmet, and then his back, and then into the side of his head for the anthems and Sid's standard loop around their side of the ice.

Omitting facts to Geno hadn't been lying, Sid reasoned. It had just been a quick-developing situation. He'd handled weird heat stuff before Geno came into his life. He'd deal with it after.

"Why the fuck you playing?" Ovechkin asked him between whistles. "You smell."

Sid and Geno were rarely on the ice against one another, until the second period began and the Russians grew desperate as the ice tipped in Canada's favor.

Sid refused to bend down over the faceoff dot first. He knew what it looked like on a good day. With the way Geno was looking at him now, he very nearly didn't trust him.

Geno stiffly bent over first. Sid followed.

"Sid," Geno whispered, and it distracted Sid enough that the puck as dropped and gone before he could realize it.

Later, along the boards, Geno's stick pressed into Sid's lower back. It was strange, purposeful, instead of Geno's hips.

"The fuck you doing, Sid?"

"I didn't do anything, eh? Don't worry about it. We'll think about it after the tournament."

"Sid, it's like, different here."

"I know, okay? No one's going to try anything," Sid told him. He felt confident in it, too.

That also hadn't technically been a lie, because Sid had believed it in the moment. He'd been wrong to believe it, and that also technically hadn't been his fault. Heat did fucked-up things to a brain, and while SId had been victim to that a few times in his life, he'd been shielded by military-grade suppressants nine-and-a-half times out of ten. He had, by all accounts, done his best.

It just so happened that his best finally wasn't good enough on the ice in Sochi, where a Russian defenseman lost an edge, took him out on his way down, and landed atop him.

It happened very fast, on a level that was more physical than mental. Sid was upright, then he was down, then he was covered by another body, then there was damp heat on his face. He knew what was happening, but not in a way that meant he could resist it. It was all distant and removed. His limbs were heavy. He slowly realized he'd been leaking into his leggings for the entire game.

He knew when Geno ripped the alpha off of him, though, becuase that familiar scent engulfed him fully.

"G," Sid gasped. The world was very small, narrowed down to Geno's huge, scared eyes as he leaned over Sid's body, his hair wild from where his helmet had been torn off.

Geno disappeared from sight then, tucked away against Sid's protected neck. The fabric got tighter as it was tugged up, pressing hard on his Adam's apple as inch by precious inch of Sid's neck was exposed. He was being strangled. He was getting hard from it. Maybe he'd already been hard. Geno's big hand was on his jaw. His mouth was pressed against Sid's cheek, so close to where Sid wanted it. Geno's words hissed out through his teeth, clenched tight like if he opened his jaw, he'd have it around Sid's neck in a second flat.

"Sid, I have to. It's me or it's someone else. Pick."

"Fuck, yeah," Sid wheezed out, and he turned his neck into those clenched teeth, asking for it, just like the first time they'd met.

#before you tell me russia and canada didn't play against each other at the 2014 olympics: I know #sidgeno #hockey rpf #ask game

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aita-blorbos · 4 months

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*spoilers

AITA for surviving an assassination attempt?

For context, the other month my rival (18M) blackmailed me (17M) and my friends (15-18, F, M, cat) into pulling a heist so he could exonerate us, otherwise he'd be forced to disband our vigilante group. (He was a detective but that's not really relevant rn). Once we did it, though, he had the entire building swatted, absolutely surrounded by what looked like cops from all over the capital, and I had to let myself be arrested and interrogated to give my teammates time to get out of the premises. Of course we knew this was all just a plot on my rival's part to corner me and assassinate me, so we'd hatched an escape plan in advance to get me out. Fast forward a few weeks later, we ran into my rival during a heist on a ship, and he was absolutely, balls to the walls, furious at me. Granted, it was probably a buildup of so many things and this was just the straw that broke the camel's back, but he seemed genuinely pissed that I ruined his lifelong plot and that I 'have things that he doesn't' and 'don't let the bonds of my past hold me back'. But whatever, that's just Tuesday for us. But THEN (this all happened after we fought each other on the ship, so we were both pretty fucking drained) he decided to sacrifice himself to save me and my friends and asked that we complete our heist on his behalf to avenge him.

Like?? Yes, me and my friends would have done the heist regardless, but... I know he'd always been a sore loser - we've fought before, but it was something coy, the two of us had been holding back a little because we were scheming behind each other's backs - when he lost that fight, he'd said he hated me but we both knew that that wasn't the only thing he felt about me. (I also hated him, but we were in love about it. I thought he knew.) And now that he lost this battle, he just decided to... straight up go ahead and die? I'm sorry, did you think it was easy to contrive the entirety of Tokyo's police force and convince a desperate public prosecutor willing to sell people to the devil for one pack of yakisoba that she's capable of righteousness? I know my rival wouldn't have respected me if I had actually ended up dead in that dingy interrogation room anyway, the way I wouldn't have respected him if his initial deal was actually legit and not a coverup for his mercenary job. I survived for him, so why wouldn't he do the same for me? I know he could beat me in the game if he'd just - lived, and started another scheme to end my life, I don't know! It's so unfair.

Anyway, I just needed to get that off my chest, we have more pressing things to do rn. Like killing God. We're killing God on Christmas Eve BTW so if you ever feel like joining us on that, my number's still the same. Or, our online forum is still up. Whichever you'd like.

#aita #am i the asshole #unreality

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total-drama-brainrot · 2 months

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Alenoaheather grabbed me by the throat and body slammed me through 15 consecutive buildings a week ago and it is entirely your fault/lh

But I was thinking about the incredible Fake Dating AU y’all were putting together and had a question, then realized I could just ask the question because it’s ✨Tumblr✨. But what do you think would’ve happened if Izzy wasn’t there when Noah passed out at the gym with Eva? Like, imagine Alejandro and Heather bust into the gym, but because of Eva’s awkward ass self(I love her sm) it genuinely just seems like she knocked out Noah. How would you expect the scenario to play out after that, because I do imagine that Aleheather wouldn’t be happy about seeing Noah laid out like a starfish-

My apologies 😔 (I'm not sorry 😈). /lh

The idea of Eva holding up a passed out Noah by the collar of his undershirt, all but looming over him in her desperation to get him to wake the fuck up, only to have both Heather and Alejandro burst into the room and misconstrue the situation entirely is so fucking funny to me. Thank you for the mental image, anon.

Because Eva has aggression practically woven into the threads of her character; she speaks aggressively, se thinks aggressively, and we all know she acts aggressively. Even when she's trying to be gentle she's always going to be rough around the edges, so it'd genuinely look like she's about to pummel an unconscious Noah into nerd-paste. Without Izzy there as a mitigating force, Eva wouldn't have the eloquence to properly explain the situation before AleHeather jump to conclusions and act accordingly.

Which would mostly be Heather trying to beat the shit out of Eva, physical discrepancies be damned, as Alejandro scoops up their partner bridal style and fusses over the 'damsel' in the situation.

Because, out of the two of them, Heather's always been the more physically aggressive one. She's not afraid to start throwing hands- of course, Heather's more likely to attack others with her words, but she's never shied away from a more hands-on approach to conflict. Whereas Alejandro, for all of his displays of physical prowess, doesn't ever really use his strength in a hostile way (his boxing math with José non-withstanding), and he's far too much of a gentleman to ever hit a woman.

So Eva would be staving off an irate Heather, who's trying to claw her eyes out or something, using her superior muscle mass to (as gently as she can) subdue Heather so she could explain herself. But 'fighting back' only makes Eva look worse to the pair, and any explanations she'd try to offer would be all but drowned out by Heather's enraged screaming, falling on deaf ears. Eva really doesn't want to hurt Heather, so she'd hold back the majority of her overwhelming strength, but Heather would interpret that as Eva looking down on her which would only serve to fuel her anger.

Meanwhile, Alejandro and his saviour complex would be trying to resuscitate Noah from his overexertion coma (previously established; Noah goes sicko mode on a punching bag and his noodly ferret body couldn't handle the strain of physical effort), though half of his attention would be diverted towards Heather going beast mode on Eva- either because he'd be genuinely concerned/alarmed by her ferocity, or because Alejandro seems like the type of guy who'd find Heather going feral kind of hot (whichever's funnier).

Eventually Heather would either tire herself out and Eva could attempt to blunder her way through an explanation- under the dual judgemental/seething glares of AleHeather- to mixed results, OR Noah would wake up, have a 'what the fuck is going on here' moment, and quickly clear up the confusion in his patented know-it-all way. That is to say, insulting everyone involved for their incompetency whilst ignoring his own pivotal role in the disagreement, and then explaining that he and Eva are cool now. (He'd probably be a dick about it to; "We're besties, me and Eva are having a sleepover tonight and we're going to talk about Boys and Shoes and Makeup and you're not invited." Noah can't stop being a sarcastic jester-coded prick for more than one scene or else he'll implode.)

Of course, this is all just speculation. I expect @perpetualexistence has plenty of their own thoughts to add to this hypothetical, as the adoptive 'co-parent' of this AU!

This is mostly just me pushing my "AleNoah ask for no pickles, Heather's the one who confronts the cashier when they get pickles" Alenoaheather dynamic. Heather the girlboss and her two cringefail, pathetic-pilled boyfriends. She's the only one of the three who can be direct with her misgivings (Noah is blunt, sure, but he skirts around confrontation- see his reaction to Alejandro's comment in "I See London..."). Also a not-so-subtle nod towards Alejandro always prioritising being the 'hero who rescues the damsel' over the 'hero who confronts the villain', which is literally just canon. The guy's not confrontational despite being manipulative- the puppet master works behind the curtains, after all. (The only time I can think of him ever directly confronting someone is, again, his comment to "Noah in I See London...", which is less of an accusation and more of a pointed comment.)

#the girls are fightinggggg ✨#if eva and heather actually had a proper fight eva would fold her ass like laundry. no contest.#not that heather isn't also a forced to be reckoned with. but it's EVA.#they'd eventually sort out the beef between them but i think eva would ask for one free shot against heather as compensation for the attack #(everyone expects eva to full-on deck her but she never does. heather lives in constant fear of eva's free shot.)#(eva's never gonna use it. she just likes watching heather sweat.)#fake dating au #alenoaheather #total drama #td eva #td heather #td alejandri #td noah #character analysis #silly ideas #replies

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kimbap-r0ll · 2 years

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Vil and Neige (separate) with a usually shy and calm s/o who absolutely turns ruthless whenever their safety comes into question :0 perhaps a crazy fan tried to put their hands on the boys and suddenly their s/o has the fan pinned to the ground with a menacing look on their face (think of Yor's face in Spy x Family when we first see her get a job to assassinate someone)

Hello, thank you for the ask!

Vil, Neige x shy!s/o who is also a menace

Vil

He likes your company. You make him feel at ease because of your usual calmness. He also really likes spending quiet times with you, just vibing as he's fixing his hair and while you're reading or so.

But one thing that he was upset about was the fact that his popularity meant there would be paparazzi along with some crazy fans. You always said that you wanted to travel with him on tours or fashion shows, but he declined all the time because he was worried about your safety.

He saw that you weren't happy when there was too many people and you got overwhelmed when you were the center of attention in front of a class, so he thought you would hate traveling with him. The last thing he wanted was to make you feel uncomfortable!

Yet, you persisted and he finally caved in and allowed you to go with him to the next fashion show he was attending. Once you two get to the hotel you guys are staying at, there's already a whole crowd in front of the large glass doors.

He tried make it seem as though you were just a coworker or a friend, but a fan suddenly broke the security lines and ran towards you two. The next thing he knew, the fan was pushing you to the side and so were other fans. He was going to reach out to you but he suddenly saw you grab the fan, pin them to the ground like you were doing Taekwondo, and give them the scariest glare he had ever seen.

"Leave." You said, you're voice much more menacing than he remembered it was. The fans stopped and Vil gave you a smile, offering a hand to you and you two went into the hotel together. Basically everyone found out that you were more than a coworker then.

He tells you once you two are settled inside the hotel room that you were amazing out there. "Didn't think you could do that back there, quite alluring," he says before going to bed. You blush, looking down at the floor. "No worries dear, I'm just glad you're safe. Now get some rest, we're getting up early tomorrow."

Neige

He's super bubbly, and it was probably an opposites attract moment for the two of you. He liked taking walks with you in the forests or parks when he was with you. Neige didn't care much if you spoke a lot during the walks or not, he was just happy holding your hand.

But he would often invite you over to his dorm or in school grounds, mainly because he was a celebrity. He didn't want to see you distressed because of paparazzi or crazy fans that tried to harm you. He mainly kept you out of his celebrity career, but you seemed interested in it.

One day, you asked him if you could go on one of his trips, a shooting for an advertisement to be exact. He looked up at you from the crochet scarf he was making (for you) and set it down. "I don't want to see you stressed though, the last thing I want is to see you upset," he replied. But you seemed persistent, and finally, he caved in.

He helps you pack for the right things and gives you some information on what he's doing. He says not to worry about being near him. "We'll just keep walking, or we can say that we're a couple, whichever one you're comfortable with."

You two made it to the hotel after a long trip. It was in a limo and when you two stepped out, you were blinded by the flashing lights of cameras and you're ears were ringing from the fans screaming for Neige's attention.

Neige helped you out and walked next to you while still being friendly with fans. Everything was alright. Until a fan got loose and pointed out that you were too close to Neige. Other fans got riled up too, and you were about to get stampeded by fans.

He tried to do something, but before a fan could push you, you grabbed them and threw them on the ground. Your eyes held a different light from the soft ones you had and you didn't say much but you said this: "Next time I'll break your neck." Neige tries to calm the situation down and asks if you're alright before fleeing into the hotel with you.

Once inside, he tells you that he was so sorry that happened, but he was super amazed at how you fended the crazy fans off. He doesn't admit that he was a bit spooked by your sudden change of aura, but he was also awed by it haha.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twst headcanons #anon ask #twst x reader #twst neige #twst neige leblanche #twst neige x reader #twst vil #twst vil schoenheit #twst vil x reader #vil headcanons #neige headcanons #gn!reader

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frenziedslashers · 1 year

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Negans reaction to reader being pregnant with his baby? Head canons or a short story are fine!!!

Negan Reaction To A Pregnant S/O:

A/N: I am working on a Negan and Reader having a baby request rn actually, so this will be some Headcanons lmao. I got like 5 anons with baby fever in my ask box rn and I am here to support you all LMAO

Pairing: Negan x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: No specific pronouns used, Negan (He's crazy let's be fr), Mentions of Lucille, Mentions of the other wives, canon typical violence, Negan has Baby FeverTM, Pregnancy, Pet names, let me know if I need to add more!

REQUEST INFO || TWD MASTERLIST

He still has multiple wives when you find out, so you're very hesitant about telling him. He's mentioned to you a lot more personal things than he ever did any of the other women, but you still were uncertain if you were really his favorite. Plus, even though he mentioned that he and his actual wife, Lucille, had wanted a baby. You weren't sure if he still wanted that baby, especially with you.

You try avoiding him for a few weeks, but it doesn't work. He finds you and confronts you about the behavior. He doesn't raise his voice with you once, though. Any of his other spouses he would, but you took a notice that they weren't even his spouses anymore. They were mostly just his servants and leverage against Dwight and some of the other men he took the girls from.

"What's been with you lately? I haven't seen ya around. I didn't do anything, did I?" He'd ask, and you'd feel your heart swell because for some reason you did love him. Even if at first you weren't the only person he was sleeping with.

You'd be scared, and he could tell that something was up so he'd lead you into either your own room or his room - whichever was closer - in order to give you privacy and set you down beside him. "Come on honey, you can talk to me," he'd assure, smiling as he reached up to brush his knuckles over your cheeks.

"I'm pregnant, and it's yours."

He wouldn't react at first. His eyes wide as he stared at you and it'd scare you. You'd be afraid he might kill you and stick you out on that fence to deter his enemies from the compound - but then he finally reacted.

"Mine? My baby... I'm gonna be a dad?" He'd ramble, jolting to his feet as a surge of energy shot through his body. Leaving you sitting on the bed alone as he paced the room in front of you. "We're having a cub?" He'd speak and his voice would crack. Facing you with the biggest and most genuine smile, his eyes brimmed with tears and he raced back over to you. Long strides making his way to in front of you so he could kneel. Being just a little shorter than you on the bed, now.

"How far are you?" He'd ask, and you could practically feel the excitement that radiated off the man, and it gave you hope that your kid might actually get a good father. "Only a few weeks, a month at most the doc said." You spoke, and he reached up to hold the sides of your face. "I hope they have your eyes," He'd tell you, and you'd feel your whole body heat up. Eyes darting to the side with a sheepish smile, but it was quick to fade.

"What's wrong?" He'd asked. "I'm not really that important, though. You have other wives, it could have been one of them carrying your baby." You frowned, and he shook his head. "I stopped sleeping with them a long time ago, honey bunches," he'd tell you, rubbing his thumbs over your cheek bones. "Stopped claiming them, too. They're just kept up here to keep the guys in line." he'd hum, "I only want you, I promise you that. Have I ever lied?" He hadn't. He always told you the truth and you both knew it.

He'd prove it to your further by even making it so the other women dressed in more casual clothing. None of them referred to him as anything other than Negan, and he'd walk you around with his hand on your hip, on the small of your back, or in your hand constantly. He wants to prove to you that you are the only one he thinks about. The only spouse that he wants.

He'd eventually ask you to "marry" him after he figured you trusted him enough to do so. If you say no, he gets it, but if you say yes he's ecstatic. He loves you, truly, and he's glad that you agreed to be with him til death do you part.

When you were far enough along that you couldn't hide the bump in your stomach any longer Negan would call a meeting to the people. Standing above them all with you by his side while everyone kneeled before the two of you. His hand resting on your stomach while he held you close.

"Some of you may already know, but I wanted to make it official. My Honey-bear and I are having a cub of our own here soon." He'd tell them, all while looking at you with so much love and adoration in his eyes that it made your heart soar. "There's about to be a little Negan running around. They're gonna be such a little shit too," He'd announce with such an enthusiastic voice, and you'd chuckle. "Well, let's hope they don't have your complete personality, then." He'd snicker at this, pulling you in for a kiss that he couldn't help but grin like a fool into. Everyone would cheer for you both, because truly. None of them had seen their leader so happy with anyone.

Negan would get more and more protective over you the closer you got to popping. He'd be by your side, making sure you had everything you need. He wouldn't let anyone get too close to you. He was already protective of you, but now was worse. You'd be off limits to everyone except for his previous wives that he knew you trusted. They'd help you when he was gone. They were happy for you, truly. Plus, you practically granted them freedom.

Negan would cry when the baby was born. He secretly hoped it was a little boy, and he'd so thrilled if it was a boy. He'd be bouncing off the walls and trying to convince you to let him name it Negan Jr. but really he'd be fine with about anything you came up with. He wasn't picky.

If it was a little girl though? Oh, that feels so much different for the man. He's holding the girl with practical heart eyes. Smiling as tears roll down his cheeks and he stares at her. "Hi, baby bear," he'd coo, and choke on a sob if they cooed back. He's never letting his little girl out of his sight. He's gonna be the most protective Papa Bear anyone knows. Everyone better pray that he they don't hurt her in anyway.

He'd spoil the shit out of his kid. Ordering his men to get them toys out on their runs. He'd let his kid get away with murder and just smile while cheering them on. They can do no wrong in his eyes.

With Negan being their dad. Expect the kid to be repeating some pretty interesting words as it gets older. "Suck my dick," "You wanna taste your own balls today?" "Fuck" "Shit" you name it. They've got quite the vocabulary as they get older and you're thankful school systems don't exist anymore.

Negan is the type of dad to do everything with his kid and even takes some time away from leading the saviors and puts Simon in charge for a while so he can spend it with you and the baby. He still doesn't let Simon get away with the stupid things he wants to do and still attends the meetings though to makes sure the system doesn't fail.

Everyone adores you and the baby. You two are the new celebrities in the factory, and everyone loves how happy you both make Negan. He swears up and down that he won't ever let anything happen to you or his baby.

"Personally, I think I deserve another baby... Maybe another five more." He'd tell you, and if you didn't say no, he'd be taking that as a yes. He loves kids and wants as many as you'll have for him. Plus, he loves the way you look when you're carrying his child. How your skin seems to glow, how round and soft you are. He wishes cameras still existed so he could have a photo or two of you.

He loves his little family, and even if you only had one kid for him, or if you decided to have one more or a few more. He's happy and content. He never thought he'd have the chance to be a Daddy and he is forever thankful that you not only gave him that opportunity. But also that it's you that he gets to share these moments with.

If you would like to be added to my tag list for TWD stuff, please fill out the form on my pinned post :) It is linked as "TWD Taglist Form"!

#negan twd #negan smith #negan the walking dead #negan x reader #negan #the walking dead #twd

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