#but by then he’ll have learned enough that it does clear things up

[aetherdecember]

Look, I love BBC Merlin and how they told the lore, but I’m a sucker for the relationship between Arthur and Mordred in the mythology. Specifically, I love how Mary Stewart (author of The Arthurian Saga**) and Nancy Springer (author of I Am Mordred**) wrote about the father/son relationship between them. So naturally, my brain has been conjuring up how I can include that in my Flipping the Coin au.

Since the main premise is Merlin died/Arthur lives, and now Arthur is the one waiting for Merlin to come back, things would stay consistent with canon up to the last episode (when Merlin flips the coin of their destiny and sacrifices himself so Arthur can live and thus stop Camlann from happening altogether). Which is where this idea will start:

Gwen is barren. She and Arthur never have kids. Eventually, everyone Arthur knows and loves dies. He can’t rule Camelot forever, and after Gwen’s death, he no longer wants to, so he fakes his death and wanders off figure out why he’s still here. He never gets an answer for that. Arthur spends the next millennium waiting. He keeps living. He meets people, experiences things he’d never experienced before, and learns things he’d never dreamed of learning. He can’t stay anywhere long, or else suspicions will rise, but he gets to see the world change, how technology advances, and witness humans continuing to be humans. When war breaks out, he joins the battle. It’s familiar. The rush of adrenaline is the same whether he’s wielding a sword or a gun. Only, he can’t see the enemy’s face anymore.

Peace comes again. At some point, he sleeps with a woman, and she happens to become pregnant. Bisexual disaster that he is, he’s had all sorts of partners from both sexes, but has never had this happen, even before the advent of reliable birth control. Later, he’ll learn her name is Morgause. She doesn’t look like the Morgause he knew before, nor does she act like her, but her name haunts him. After the baby is born, she gives him to Arthur, says she has no intentions of being a mother, and leaves. The last thing she had said to him was the baby’s name.

Mordred.

That night, Arthur holds Mordred and weeps.

There is irony in his son being named Mordred. First, in that the legends surrounding him, Merlin, Camelot, the Knights of the Round Table, and all of it, had long ago decided Mordred was his son. And two, in a retelling of that legend, it had aptly phrased what he sensed was happening now. Granted, he isn’t a sorcerer, he doesn’t have magic, so he can’t support his feeling with anything other than he’d been around a long time and knew to his very core that it was true. Mordred’s birth is a signal of the beginning of the end.

Fatherhood brings him a new sense of purpose. Gone are the days of loneliness and drudgery. Every day with Mordred brings a new light into his life. Each smile is a miracle. Seeing Mordred experience things for the first time brings a new appreciation. Being there to watch him grow makes time fly like it never has before. But Arthur is afraid. He doesn’t want to be his father. He doesn’t know how to be a father, or what the right way to do it is. In all the years he’s been on the Earth, he’s never known a man who could concretely say, “This is the way to raise a son,” and actually reap the fruits of their efforts. Too frequently, he’d seen sons grow outside of the visions their fathers molded for them and receive only disappointment and disdain in return. So he was afraid, because he too had been that son.

*cue a series of fluffy father/son one shots of Arthur raising Mordred until Merlin comes back, takes one look, and is is like WTF????? No, I won’t have Mordred for a step son >:(*

**Mary Stewart and Nancy Springer have several other works, not just the stories I mentioned. The ones mentioned are the ones I’m pulling inspiration from ^^

Additional notes below the break:

Guinevere’s barrenness is not a headcanon I typically subscribe to for BBC Merlin. My headcanon is that after Arthur’s death, Gwen gives birth, and their child eventually succeeds her as ruler.

I’ve always seen Mordred’s appearance as the harbinger of Arthur’s downfall. Thus, the reason for the plot bunnies in my brain going crazy with this idea of how I could bring him in, still remain mostly canon compliant with BBC Merlin, and build off some of my favorite parts of the lore. (Mandatory disclaimer: for BBC Merlin, I don’t headcanon Mordred as Arthur’s son. But for the mythology, I do wholeheartedly support that canon.)

Arthur’s choice to participate and live once Camelot is gone is a decision to contrast my headcanon of how Merlin handled it. I don’t think Merlin thrived. I think he stayed busy, and tried to remain hopeful, but I think he was anxiously consumed with the anticipation of wondering when Arthur would come back. In this au, Arthur may or may not know that Merlin is supposed to come back (I’m still working on that detail), but he’s always been around others. I think he would seek camaraderie, and companionship, and that he would connect with others but only to a superficial level. I don’t think he’d exist in a void of loneliness. Plus, he doesn’t have the guilt of knowing he failed because the pressure from the prophecy is very one sided *coughcough*causemerlinnevertoldhim*coughcough*

Anyways, that’s enough rambling from me about this. I’ll probably share some snippets of writing next because there are some fantastic scenes coming together in the draft so stay tuned! ;D

#bbc merlin #merlin #arthur pendragon #mordred #flipping the coin #my drabbles #arthurian mythology will always be my jam #you can tear this au from my cold dead hands but it will live on #merthur #for the Merlin not wanting Mordred as a stepson joke the last Mordred he knew turned on them to join Morgana #as far as Merlin is concerned they’re the same person #he’ll come around eventually once Arthur fills him in on everything #btw Arthur’s son Mordred is unaware of all of this #he’s having to process his dad - who has never really been interested in anybody for any reason - is completely besotted with some guy #once he learns this ‘some guy’ used to be his father’s servant it does not make things better #but by then he’ll have learned enough that it does clear things up #he’s actually a big fan of Merlin #he just wasn’t prepared for love sick puppy dog Arthur 24/7 now that Merlin’s back

[yuki-world]

那维莱特 | NEUVILLETTE ; TEACH

summary | you're just so sexually inexperienced, surely neuvillette, someone who has lived for millenniums, could teach you a thing or two about pleasuring someone?

tags | nsfw (smut), fem!reader, slight corruption, first-time blowjob, throat bulge, face-fucking, cum swallowing, praise kink, mentions of virginity, 1.9k words

a/n : you have no idea how down bad i am. pt 2 here —> learn

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

neuvillette is not amused.

he’s always open to sharing his knowledge with others; in fact, he has been teaching you a plethora of things, more than you could’ve imagined. you admired neuvillette, he knew that very well. experience was definitely something he didn’t lack.

but some things… aren’t meant to be shared, especially not whatever you were asking for.

“its not that big of a deal,” you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “you said you would teach me anything.”

“please, it's unwise to joke about things like that,” neuvillette says. he looks at you for any hints of a smile, a giggle, anything to indicate that you were joking. he sees nothingー just you with your head slightly tilted, waiting patiently for his answer. quite cute, he must admit.

look, he understands that you are a curious person; you’re always up for expanding your knowledge. but isn’t this… a little too much? asking him to teach you how to give a blowjob? it's not like he didn’t have experience with… that. but this topic wasn’t exactly what he had in mind when he said you could ask him anything.

but neuvillette has a soft spot for you; he’s come to grow fond of you. what started from him finding it annoying how you pester him on the daily, to him looking forward to seeing you as an escape from his work. you’re like a breath of fresh air. he has no obligation to, but he feels like it's his job to guide and protect you.

the room fills with silence, and you attempt to draw an answer out of him again. he’ll probably give in, you think. after all, he does have a soft spot for you. “oh, but i’m not joking,” you rebutted. “why won’t you teach me?” you try again, hoping your question would be answered.

its silent yet again, the lack of response making you click your tongue. its hard to figure out how he’s feeling, because the look on his face tells you nothing. that’s when you thought you could tease him a little to get a reaction out of him, if that would even work.

“how disappointing. i suppose i’ll just have to ask someone else, maybe wriothesley? i’m sure he’ll be happy to teach me.”

the mention of another man’s name has his attention back onto you immediately. sure, he’s hesitant on teaching you about pleasuring someone. but no way is he going to let you ask someone else about this; he won’t allow it. won’t even consider it. the image of you sucking another man off has him furrowing his eyebrows.

“what do you think? or maybe i should askー”

“i think that’s enough, y/n.”

at this point, you think you might’ve actually made him angry. he’s never sounded this strict with you before, it almost sounds like he’s about to give you a whole lecture on why you shouldn’t be asking for these types of things. but he doesn’t.

it’s such a dirty act, it feels terribly wrong, but he simply couldn’t deprive you of such knowledge. if something like this piques your curiosity, then he will go along with it to satisfy you.

neuvillette clears his throat, composing himself. “i will only teach you onceー once and we won’t speak about this again. does that sound alright?”

he sees your face light up in an instant, nodding eagerly. “thank you, neuvillette! i will be forever grateful!” you exclaim, and he feels his cock twitch in his pants. fuck, he thinks. you’re going to be the death of him.

“kneel for me,” he asks of you, and you lower yourself obediently. you’re directly facing his crotch, and embarrassment creeps onto you. you shy away from the image in front of you, nervously playing with your fingers. your face is flushed red no matter how hard you try to hide it.

he notices immediately, hand reaching to stroke your hair, intending to provide some sort of comfort and reassurance. “are you nervous?” he questions, and you nod slowly.

“oh, love. don’t be nervous. i’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

your heart jumps at the pet name, eyes widening. that felt way too good to hear. you don’t ask if he called you that by mistake, partially because you were too eager to proceed, but also because you didn’t want him to correct himselfー if it was even a mistake at all. “please do, neuvillette,” you urge.

he finally releases his cock from the confines of his pants, hard and erect as it lightly slaps your cheek when he pulls it out.

you almost start drooling at his length. it was so large, so long, so thick. you haven’t even put it in your mouth and you’re already starting to think about how it would feel inside you. the pink tip leaks pearly drops of pre-cum. your hands reach up to his cock immediately, and he hisses.

“eager now, are we?” he teases, while you’re still in awe over his impressive size. he silently chuckles at how you admire his length, almost like you just found treasure. “have you ever seen a cock, y/n?”

you’ve… seen a few. not in real life though, and definitely none similar to his size. it's different, in a good way, seeing it up-close. it’s even more special because it's neuvillette. “not in real lifeー not like this, no.”

“i see,” he says, exhaling as he pulls your hand off, giving himself a couple of pumps. were you really that pure? it makes him so hard.

“are you ready? listen very carefully, yes?” he guides his cock onto your lips, tapping a few times. “take it in slowly, and ensure your teeth don’t touch,” he tells you.

he taps his cock on your lips again, and you open your mouth again without any hesitation. he guides his cock into your mouth inch by inch, and you taste his pre-cum on your tongue immediately. a tad bit salty, but you can take it.

“y/nー oh…” he sighs in pleasure as he feels your mouth wrap around his cock-head. he was in heavenー your mouth was so warm and wet, he could barely control himself from fucking into your face. he should be the one composed, he should be the one staying calm, he’s the one teaching you for fuck’s sake; yet he’s the one struggling as you start taking his cock further into your mouth.

“just like that, a little moreー mmh… thats it,” his breath hitches when he feels the tip hit the back of your throat. he was so deep in, but he wanted to just thrust it in further. you took it so well, he thinks. not even gagging like he expected you to, and no teeth just like he told you to. how obedient.

you adjusted your mouth on his cock as your drool started dripping down onto your lap. your hand reaches up to stroke what you couldn’t take in, and it elicits a gasp from him. he doesn’t instruct you to, but you start moving on your own as if you’ve done it before.

you drench his cock with your saliva as you suck him off, your hands holding his thighs for support.

“such a good girl, y/n. you take my cock so wellー don’t even need to teach you,” he praises and you hum around him as a form of thanks. you take that as motivation as you suck faster, occasionally swirling your tongue on the tip. you tongue his slit, licking up every drop of pre-cum that leaks.

he throws his head back when you take him particularly deep in your throat, and he almost couldn’t take it anymore. he stops you, pulling you off his cock. copious amounts of saliva drip out, a string of saliva connecting his cock to your mouth.

this was a sight he could only ever see in his dreams. your lips swollen, cheeks flushed red, your eyes tearyー god, he loves you, he really loves you. he thinks you look absolutely beautiful even with your face covered in your own spit. this does it for him.

“stay put, and let me fuck your face, alright? can you handle it, love?” there it was again, calling you ‘love’. you’re smitten, you’d do anything after hearing him call you that. “iー i can handle it.”

neuvillette smiles, wiping off some of the drool on your face before he slides his cock inside your mouth again. “as expected of my good girl.”

his hands hold the sides of your head for stability, slowly thrusting into your mouth to test the waters. when he’s sure you’re okay, he starts fucking into your face, making sure you feel every inch of his cock down your throat.

he can’t stopー he’s addicted. truth be told, he’s been deprived of sexual pleasure for so long, it felt like heaven. you took him so deep with no complaints, you deserve so much more for being so good to him. he can’t stop thrusting into your mouthー it feels like he was fucking a pussy.

and then thoughts of fucking you invade his mind. if you’ve never given a blowjob before, surely that would mean you’ve never had sex, which makes you a virgin. fuck, he wants to take you so bad. you’d be so tight, so warm, so sweet. would you like to know about sex too, then? would you let him take you?

he’s brought back to reality as your hand grips his thighs, signaling for him to stop. he thinks he might’ve hurt you, but you continue to your administrations. he’s so close, he feels his climax approaching, but he needs slightly more.

“give me your hand,” he requests, and you raise your hand up. he takes it gently, guiding it his balls as he squeezes them. “yeahー ah, keep doing that.”

what a fast learner you are. you massage his balls as you continuing to deep-throat him. the grip on your hair was getting tighter, louder groans coming out from him. “you’re going to make me cum, love. god, i’m so close.”

he breaks when you take him in so deep, he sees a bulge in your throat. it was his last straw. “ohー fuuuck…” he thrusts into you as he blows his load straight down your throat. you didn’t even have time to taste him or even react, widening your eyes as he throws his head back.

he pants, pulling his cock out slightly till only the tip was left in your mouth, pumping out weak spurts of cum. you swallowed it all, even going so far as to licking him clean of any remnants of cum.

neuvillette is a mess. you’re a mess. he’s so far gone, he still feels the effects of his climax. he pulls you off his cock, helping you up before tucking himself back in his pants.

“are you alright, y/n? are you hurt? my apologies, i should have asked for your permission,” he caresses your cheek, referring to how he came in your mouth. you shook your head. “it’s fineー i… liked it.”

“oh? how naughty,” he scolds, smoothing your messy hair down from how he gripped it earlier. “so, was this a helpful lesson, y/n? do you know nowー how to pleasure someone?”

you nodded. “really insightful. thank you, neuvillette. but…”

“but?”

“maybe... you can teach me what an orgasm feels like next?”

“i see. i will gladly indulge.”

ー @yuki-world

#雪| 那维莱特 neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x you #neuvillette smut #genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #neuvillette x reader smut

[rileyslibrary]

Idk if you’re taking commissions rn but if you are.. Can you do one where reader acts as Ghosts weighted blanket after an anxiety attack? I feel like he’d love that xx

I’m glad you asked for the reader to act as Ghost’s weighted blanket instead of the other way around because that would be like being flattened by a road roller. Also, it is good to note that anxiety attacks are not the same as panic attacks. Yes, they do have some similarities, but they differ. This story is about Ghost having an anxiety attack, so bear that in mind.

And let’s be clear here: he would never explicitly ask you to do such a thing.

Never.

In fact, he would never ask you to do anything that would need you to be physically attached to him, neither from the front nor back. And his anxiety, if he ever suffers from it—which I’m sure he does because, come on, who doesn’t in our times, plus it is mentioned in the comics—he can cover it pretty well.

But it takes one to know one, right? You’ve had your fair share of anxiety attacks; you know they are not sudden or obvious. Instead, they develop slowly, gradually. That sense of general unease lingers, haunting him for weeks, even months. He doesn’t start trembling or shaking out of nowhere. This one is subtle but constant, like a leaky faucet that drips every few seconds. He feels restless and triggered by something vague that he can’t understand himself. All. The. Time.

He knows what a panic attack is; he experienced it multiple times before, mainly due to the nature of his work. But an anxiety attack? To a soldier who associated the word “attack” with something swift, sudden and imminent? There’s no such thing as an anxiety attack to him.

No.

He doesn’t comprehend this constant need to stay in control, why he’s always tense, his inability to take a full, deep breath. To him, that’s just how his body functions. Relaxation has been a foreign concept since childhood, so he’s normalised it. And he learned how to bear these symptoms instead of understanding what triggers them and learning how to alleviate them.

You’ve observed the pattern; he tends to become like that a few months before a mission, so you were able to put one and one together.

And one day, you find him lying face-down on the bed. Something prompts you, and you crawl on top of him. He shifts and asks you, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing”. Maybe he even tries to stand up while you are on his back, and you ask him to trust you; he’ll see.

He’s hesitant but obeys, though he’s more alert than ever now. You settle on top of him; he feels like he’s carved from wood, but not because of his physique. He’s tense. Stiff. Rigid. He’s afraid to let go. He holds his breath. His palms are pressed into the mattress beside his chest, ready to spring into a burpee and launch you back to where you came from.

Yet he doesn’t do it. Slowly his muscles relax under your body, and you feel him gradually—though clumsily—release tension in each body part; his legs, back, and then his shoulders. He finally lets go of the breath he’s been holding, replaced by a long exhale, his first in months. He places his hands on the sides of his body and lets out a repressed chuckle.

You ask him why he’s laughing, and he asks you to turn your face away because you are breathing into his ear. You comply.

With you not watching, he can finally close his eyes now. Good.

But even Ghost can take so much weight. Or so much intimacy. After a while, he snaps out of it, and he wriggles out from under you, letting you fall on the mattress, muttering a brief “Enough.” He doesn’t thank you for anything. What did you really do? Yes, he feels a little lighter, and his mind is clearer, but all you did was rest on him. That’s all. No need to thank you for that.

He needs it, though. Again and again. No, he doesn’t need you, of course. No, silly. He craves that sensation again—letting go. So whenever he feels overwhelmed, he awkwardly gestures toward his back and asks you sternly to “do that thing”. And you try to suppress your laughter and obey his command.

And slowly, just like his anxiety attacks come and go, he realises that it’s not just your weight on top of him that soothes him. It’s you, your will to make him feel better, your heart beating against his back, your form attached to him that makes all this chaos in the world feel a little bit more manageable than before.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x gn!reader #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley fic #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x you #simon riley #call of duty #ghost cod #cod ghost #ghost cod mw2 #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #ghost cod mwii

[eoieopda]

one to ten | jww

summary: your roommate may not know how to help you feel better, but that won’t stop him from trying. pairing: jeon wonwoo x reader au: roommates to ?, pining, sick fic type: drabble (hurt/comfort, fluff) rating: pg13 — still, minors do not have my consent to interact with my content. cw: gn!spoonie!reader; downbad!best boi!super shy!roommate!wonu; chronic illness/pain is implied but no diagnosis is specified; hand-holding 👁️👄👁️; barely proofread because brain fog, lol. a/n: this is super self-indulgent and based on my own personal experience with chronic illness (fibromyalgia), so it may be different than yours!! wc: 1k

Wonwoo isn’t psychic, but he knows that something is up the second he gets home from work.

Walking through the door of your shared apartment, he moves immediately to deposit his keys on the nearby hook and finds that yours are already there. Odd, he thinks, given your habit of imposing your own overtime. Your commute is shorter than his, and you still never beat him back here.

He looks down as he toes off his shoes, carefully maneuvering them across the mat to avoid both your heels and your sneakers, which don’t seem to have budged since this morning. Wonwoo frowns. It’s rare for you to skip out on the gym at the end of the day, but it’s unheard of for you to miss work — even when you should, in his non-expert opinion.

That’s a bit of a red flag, he’ll admit.

Wonwoo locks the door behind him, pads off across the kitchen and through the adjoining living room, and eventually stops at your bedroom door. It’s cracked open — a secret code of yours, he’s learned. One that means you don’t want to be alone, but you feel the need to warn him about what’s on the other side. Usually, it’s you, deflated in your bed in a way that you find embarrassing. Still, even on your worst days, he’s never seen you look bad. 

He’s not convinced that you could if you tried.

Softly, Wonwoo raps his knuckles against the doorframe to warn you. In response, he gets a muffled, “Hello?” It wraps around his heart and squeezes just a little. He loves that about you; how gentle your voice is when everything else you’re experiencing feels the opposite.

You lift your head up just enough to make eye contact with him as he slips through the doorway, and you smile. If it aches to do so, you pretend like it doesn’t.

He clears his throat awkwardly. “Hey.”

Admittedly, this is the part that Wonwoo feels he’s worst at. He’s never quite sure what to ask or what he can do to help, always simultaneously afraid of being patronizing or too hands-off. It’s a balancing act; his equilibrium is off.

And, god, he’s so shy when it comes to you. He can’t make himself act on any of the comforting impulses he absolutely has, so he simply pauses at the end of your bed and sweeps his eyes over your frame. A triage of sorts, he supposes.

You’re on your right side, hugging a hot water bottle, and there’s a Munchlax plush between your knees to keep them separated. Your left hip hurts, he guesses. It’s probably safe to assume that the rest of you does, too. Crinkling his nose as he thinks, he asks, “One to ten?”

Another code. 

Wonwoo has to adjust the scale when you answer — three — because your three is his eleven. The good news isn’t lost on him, though: Your pain was a six during the last flare. Things may not be great, but they’ve definitely been worse.

“Mostly just tired,” you sigh, as if you can hear the calculations he’s running in his head. “I was this close —” You lift an arm and pull your thumb and index finger in so that they’re almost touching. “— to making it out the door this morning.” 

Dropping your arm again slowly, you pat the space next to you in silent invitation. Wonwoo’s body hesitates, even though his pulse doesn’t. It’s par for the course, unfortunately for him.

He wonders how many moments like this need to pass before his palms don’t sweat anymore. Will filling the spot next to you on your bed, on the couch, or even in your passenger seat ever not affect him like this?

Maybe not.

He’s okay with that, so long as you keep giving him the opportunity.

You laugh, and it single-handedly diffuses the tension in his posture. “I think the side of the bathtub got taller. I almost had to yell for you to haul me out of there, but I managed.”

“Proud of you.” He’s chuckling now, too, but that doesn’t undermine how much he means it. Getting your body to cooperate with you is always hardest in the mornings.

For what it’s worth, he would’ve come running if you’d called.

Carefully, Wonwoo sits down on the vacant side of your bed and scoots closer to you, knowing you’ll call him out for leaving distance and anticipating how badly he'll blush if you do. It’s so much easier for you to be close to people than it is for him, but he’s trying. 

He hopes you see that.

There’s a microscopic wince when you wiggle your way towards him. It’s replaced quickly by a satisfied little grin once you settle, your body curving around his bent knee like a puzzle piece slotting into place.

“You always run warm,” you muse. “I’m jealous.”

Wonwoo blinks, a little dumbfounded that you’ve noticed — not that he should be, really. He’s obviously picked up on a lot of trivia about you since you took over his former roommate’s lease several months back. If he knows the order of your skin care routine, it’s not weird for you to know that he can’t sleep without a fan on.

Should he have noticed this about you by now?

Curiosity makes him bold, apparently. He pulls his palm off the mattress and touches his fingertips to the back of your hand. “Goddamn,” he whistles. 

His hypothesis is proven the second he touches you — you’re freezing — but Wonwoo admittedly gets a kick out of the temperature disparity. He can’t help but run the pads of his fingers absentmindedly over your skin, tracing nonsense patterns. You can’t help the pleased hum that slips out of you as you watch his ministrations; or the way your heavy eyelids start to interrupt your view. 

Even when he’s sure you’ve been lulled to sleep, Wonwoo keeps doodling. It’s got to be exhausting to exist in a body that always aches, and you deserve whatever rest you can get. Truth be told, he could probably stay like this for hours if that would help. He’d be doing the same thing at his PC, anyways, holding a mouse instead of your hand.

Yeah, he thinks, this is a much better set-up.

#jeon wonwoo #wonwoo #svt #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo drabble #wonwoo hurt/comfort #jww #jade writes #jade’s drabbles #re: one to ten #kvanity

[jellyfishandry]

Izuku w/ a drop dead gorgeous s/o

Content: Reader has hair, established relationship, kissing, gn reader, some jealously and insecurity,

A/N: I was gonna add Katsuki too, but Izuku's got pretty long, so I'll probably put his in a separate post.

Despite training to be a hero, his self-esteem isn't the highest. So he has no idea why someone as stunning as you would want to date him.  When he asked you out he was kinda expecting you to reject him. But you didn't.  Receiving kisses from you makes him red, especially if he's around his classmates or friends. He loves forehead kisses. They're so sweet and comforting and he likes the feeling of you brushing his bangs out of the way. Whenever you walk into the room (especially when it's early in the relationship,) his cheeks get a little pink, and he has to take a moment to collect himself. You're just so attractive he can't help it. He's aware of the looks you get, and it doesn't really bother him. But if someone is being weird or making you uncomfortable then he gets frustrated and a little jealous. There are times where he questions your attraction towards him. He doesn't feel like he's handsome enough to even be seen with you… But you quickly notice that something is off, and you ask him about it. He's hesitant at first to tell you, but he does. And he feels a lot better when you reassure him that you love him for who he is, and not anyone else. He loves seeing your gorgeous face every time he opens his phone. Especially when you haven't seen each other in a while. Your voice too. He loves hearing you talk. It's like music to his ears and it calms him. But he actually gets surprised and a little flustered when you comment on the things he's ranting about.  He's used to people tuning him out, so it's a pleasant surprise when you listen to him. And the look on your face makes him feel so loved. A small smile on your lips, and your eyes completely focused on him. At first it made him nervous, having your undivided attention for such a long time.  He wanted to impress you with the new things he had learned, that he'd start stuttering and tripping over his words. Eventually he becomes comfortable enough to be cuddling with you while he rants. He really likes when you play with his hair. Especially when he's having a rough day. He’ll gladly do the same for you, he loves the feeling of your hair between his fingers. Around others he might seem like he's overly clingy, but he isn't.  He's very clear with boundaries, and he'd never do anything to make you uncomfortable. He'll ask to hold your hand or simply touch you.  Your boundaries are very important to him. And if someone else crosses your boundaries, he'll be quick to tell them to back off and stop bothering you.  He loves going shopping with you and he really thinks you look good in anything.  He wants to see you in the clothes you love and are comfortable in. He can't deny that the first time he saw you out of your school uniform, he was absolutely blown away at how stunning you looked in your clothes of choice. Every time you kiss him he's amazed at how soft your lips are. He sometimes feels bad though because his lips are often dry and chapped. But when you tell him that it doesn't make a difference and you love kissing him no matter what, he feels better. He might end up coming to you and asking about what chapstick is most effective. He just kinda assumes you know because your lips are so soft and smooth.  During longer kisses he'll occasionally grab your sleeves or arms.  Your kisses practically break him, so he has to hold onto you so he can ground himself and not fall over… You don't mind though. It's honestly kinda cute. If you cup his face or play with his hair during a kiss, he might just melt in the spot.  He's so thankful to have someone as amazing as you as his partner.  He loves you so much.

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#rys writing 👾 #mha #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha izuku #izuku x reader #midoriya izuku #izuku midoriya #izuku #mha midoriya #bnha midoriya #deku midoriya #mha deku #bnha deku #deku x reader #midoriya x reader #midoriya x y/n #midoriya x you #deku #izuku midoria x reader

[nyoomerr]

Only if you want but phantom thief! Binghe x rich boy Shen Yuan, heir to a famous jeweler/jewerly store business.

It can be Bingge or Binghe, whatever you want! Love your work!

dont mind me using this as a sort-of warm up for writing a much bigger bingge pov binggeyuan thing ehehe 😌 ty for sending this prompt in!

---

Luo Binghe does not get caught. It’s in his title, even - a phantom thief, completely untouchable. 

Well, perhaps not completely untouchable. After all, many times the most efficient way to get his hands on a particularly valuable set of jewelry is to let the lady wearing it put her hands on him. Flirtations and bold fondling in a dark corner of a party, hands on the woman’s face and shoulders and the diamond necklace around her neck -

Normal things for someone in Luo Binghe’s line of work, really, when that someone looks the way Luo Binghe does. Charm is as indispensable a tool as a lockpick. 

It’s only a tool that Luo Binghe dares to use when he knows it will be well received, though. Unwelcome advances are more likely to get a mark to grow more defensive on all lines, not just towards sexual advances, and then the whole job gets more difficult. Still not impossible - not for Luo Binghe - but Luo Binghe has a messy habit of turning theft into murder when he’s faced with rejection. 

It isn’t his fault. The people who turn Luo Binghe away - who look at him with cold disinterest and disgusted sneers plastered across their ugly, painted faces - they deserve to die. Luo Binghe is only doing the world a service.

Still, the cleanup becomes much more difficult when Luo Binghe’s mouth is stained with blood rather than smeared lipstick, so he learns to assess his marks carefully. Those that would think themselves clever and better than Luo Binghe get stolen from in the traditional sense, and they never see Luo Binghe during the process.

Shen Yuan is one such mark. Oh, Luo Binghe could break him in, probably - he watches from a distance as Shen Yuan’s eyes linger on the strong forearms of the barista who hands him his coffee, and he knows without testing that Luo Binghe could fluster such a small thing like Shen Yuan without much effort. 

To actually touch Shen Yuan, however, would be far more difficult. Luo Binghe knows this much from even the most basic of background searches: Shen Yuan takes pretty girls to banquets despite never touching them, and the way he dresses… yes, Shen Yuan certainly would like to think of himself as a straight man, the poor thing. Not the sort of nut Luo Binghe cares to crack when it’s for business rather than pleasure.

Besides, most of Shen Yuan’s valuables are kept in his family’s home. The pretty things Luo Binghe could nick off Shen Yuan’s person are limited and hardly the most enticing of Shen Yuan’s things, so there’s no need to push it.

Shen Yuan will simply be the sort of mark that never sees Luo Binghe, never gets close enough to touch.

That’s the sort of mark Shen Yuan is supposed to be.

“Um,” Shen Yuan says, standing awkwardly in the doorway of the very high security office that Luo Binghe has just broken into. “Can I, um. Help you…?”

Luo Binghe stares at him. He’s just finished picking the lock on one of the glass cabinets in the office, and he knows that from Shen Yuan’s perspective he must have a very clear view of the ruby earrings that Luo Binghe had plucked from the case.

He doesn’t stare long. Hesitating only ever gets someone caught, and Luo Binghe does not get caught.

The office has no windows, so Luo Binghe will have to exit through the door that Shen Yuan is standing in. He turns to face Shen Yuan fully - he empty hand neatly plucking a few more pieces from the cabinet and tucking them in his pockets as he moves - and starts sauntering over to Shen Yuan.

Shen Yuan was not meant to be one of the marks he seduced, but plans can change. He’ll just need to fluster Shen Yuan long enough to make it past him to one of the several exit plans Luo Binghe had planned. 

That should be enough - Shen Yuan is only wearing an oversized shirt and boxers, clearly having gotten up from bed without dressing properly, and he doesn’t appear to be carrying anything in his hands. All that together means he’s likely not carrying his phone, and Luo Binghe knows the security schedule well enough to know that Shen Yuan yelling wouldn’t have anyone arriving quick enough to stop him. 

Shen Yuan takes half a step back as Luo Binghe approaches, but he doesn’t leave the doorway. He must have some idea that he’s the only obstacle in Luo Binghe’s way, then. Luo Binghe smiles at him, only half faking the predatory look of it. 

“Yuan-er,” Luo Binghe croons, and Shen Yuan shuffles back another half foot, his ears turning pink where they stick out from some truly terrible bed head.

Spoiled, Luo Binghe thinks in the privacy of his own mind, poisonous and bitter. A child who’s always been allowed laziness.

“Yuan-er, you’ve really got to put better locks on your things,” Luo Binghe says as he approaches. “Isn’t this your family’s precious legacy? That sort of thing should be protected…”

Shen Yuan’s brows furrow. Luo Binghe can very clearly read the baffled what the fuck that silently twists his lips, but Luo Binghe doesn’t react. 

That’s it, little rabbit - just stand there, and let yourself be confused and taken aback by the thief in front of you, and I’ll escape before you have to worry your spoiled little head about it.

Luo Binghe is only a few paces away, now. He’ll brush past Shen Yuan’s right side to avoid getting caught on the arm he has resting on the doorway, and -

“Say please,” Shen Yuan says, glaring up at Luo Binghe as he crosses his arms.

Luo Binghe falters. “What was that, Yuan-er?”

“You’re clearly capable of sweet talk, so you should start with asking nicely before you take our shit,” Shen Yuan scoffs. 

Luo Binghe stops in front of Shen Yuan, close enough that Shen Yuan has to tilt his head up to maintain eye contact with him. 

He should just brush past, really. Shen Yuan is small, and Luo Binghe already knows he doesn’t have a way to raise alarm in an effective way.

Luo Binghe does not brush past.

He kind of wants to slit Shen Yuan’s throat for thinking he has any right to tell Luo Binghe to say please, sitting comfortably in the lap of luxury like he is. 

“I’m impressed,” Luo Binghe says, his smile so sharp it may as well just be a baring of his teeth. “Yuan-er knows so many big words for a little princling of such an important business. Did you learn them from listening to clients speak to your daddy?”

Shen Yuan’s eye twitches. “Ah,” he says. “You’re an asshole on top of being impolite, then.”

Luo Binghe’s fingers twitch towards the switchblade in his pocket. He wouldn’t be able to clean up a body before security loops back around to this wing of the house, and Luo Binghe has already left a mess from being interrupted in the middle of his heist. He hasn’t left any fingerprints, but he can’t be sure about hair -

Shen Yuan reaches up and flicks Luo Binghe’s forehead. Luo Binghe goes dead still. That’s it, then. He’s going to kill Shen Yuan, this rich little brat -

“Oi, you’re going to ruin your pretty face with a mean expression like that,” Shen Yuan complains. “Just get out of here if you aren’t going to listen nicely - I already called security before coming over here to tell you off myself.”

Luo Binghe pulls out the switchblade, snarling down at Shen Yuan. “Oh, Yuan-er, I think there’s something much better I could ruin.”

Shen Yuan shifts uncomfortably at the sight of the blade, some of his irritation replaced with the faintest glimmer of fear. Luo Binghe pushes closer, wanting to see more - wanting to see Shen Yuan’s delicate face contorted with the sort of despair that a little lordling like him would never have known before, wanting to see him cry - 

There’s footsteps from down the hall. Shen Yuan had not been bluffing; he really had called someone, then. Luo Binghe cannot guarantee he’ll be able to kill Shen Yuan quickly enough that Shen Yuan is unable to give a description of his murderer to the help before he dies.

Hesitating gets people caught. Luo Binghe does not get caught, so he brushes past Shen Yuan harshly without another moment’s pause, even though what he wants to do is something far more violent and time consuming. 

Luo Binghe hasn’t failed a heist like this since he was a damn child, and this stupid little twink dares to just stand there and watch Luo Binghe run down the hallway to the nearest window instead of lay bleeding on the ground like he should be doing, Luo Binghe will come back to kill him -

“At least say thanks!” Shen Yuan calls out as Luo Binghe approaches the window. “Even if you can’t ask nicely to begin with, you should at least say thanks, ah!”

Luo Binghe ignores him. He’s busy pulling his jacket off to wrap around his arms, preparing to jump through the window’s glass in such a way that he can avoid getting cut and leaving his own blood at the scene of the crime.

“Aiya, what an asshole…” Shen Yuan is grumbling behind him. “You know, you may regret not bothering to pay me a bit more attention.”

Oh, Luo Binghe is paying attention. He’s very vividly imagining what Shen Yuan’s neck would feel between his fingers, right now, even as he backs up several steps to get a running start at the window. 

The office had been on the second story, so Luo Binghe has to roll to mitigate the force of the fall. He stands quickly, does a perfunctory check of his pockets to ensure nothing fell when he hit the ground, and -

He’s missing the jewelry he nicked. He has the ruby earrings, but the others he’d stolen as he was leaving are gone. Luo Binghe searches the ground around where he’d fallen frantically; he has to move now, but he can’t leave those behind either. After all that this heist has brought, Luo Binghe can’t allow it to not even be profitable. 

Above him, Shen Yuan clears his throat from the broken window. Luo Binghe whips his head up to look at him.

In one hand, Shen Yuan is holding the missing jewelry.

“I told you,” Shen Yuan says. “Jeez, as if I’m that useless.”

Luo Binghe stares up at him. No one has ever dared to steal back from Luo Binghe.

“...Aren’t you going to leave? Security really will be here soon.” Shen Yuan calls down at him. Then he pauses, and even in the darkness Luo Binghe can tell his ears have gone pink again. “...I let you keep the rubies. They, uh. Would probably go well. With you. And your eyes. And uh. Anyway, say thanks!”

“...Thanks?” Luo Binghe says, baffled and furious and still sort of itching to take his switchblade out and throw it pointy-side first at Shen Yuan’s pretty face.

“You’re welcome, asshole!” Shen Yuan calls back, clearly pleased. 

Luo Binghe stares for a moment longer, then turns and runs. He will not get caught, even on nights that have gone as stupendously terrible as this one has. So long as he doesn’t get caught, there’s always next time. 

So long as he doesn’t get caught, Luo Binghe can come back here, to the office of jewels he failed to get - to Shen Yuan. 

Next time, Luo Binghe won’t fail.

#ok now onto the bigger bingge pov thing.... #svsss #binggeyuan #bingyuan #fic drabble

[m1d-45]

theirs

word count: 810

summary: small drabbles about what it’s like to be with your lover. kaeya, venti, zhongli, and ayato, in that order.

-> warnings: none !

-> gn reader

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr

< masterlist >

kaeya is subtle. a hand inching toward yours, a soft smile when he offers you his arm, growing wider when you accept. he invites you to the angel’s share just to have an excuse to have you sit next to him, already having a glass of your favorite drink by his side. he’s always willing to give you a drink from his cup if you’d like to try, and often steals sips from yours, if only to take your attention back from whatever bard is playing that night. he drinks less when you’re with him, whether because he’s talking or because he’d rather stay sober to hear you speak. he sticks close to your side at most times, whether shoulder to shoulder or a hand lingering over your side. he knows of what the city thinks of him, but the last thing he’d want is for you to think his feelings are anything but genuine. he sticks to softer ways to show his affection instead, whether by bringing you lunch during your breaks or flowers after work, trying his hardest to find the line between what could be seen as manipulation and what isn’t enough. take him out for a picnic sometime, by the edge of cider lake. lean your head on his shoulder and promise that you understand his affection, just don’t tease him too much if he trips over his words.

venti is cautious. he’s not that familiar with human relations, and is rather lonely after years of solitude. being a god is isolating, and he’d hate to be overwhelming in his attempts. he starts with flowers, little bouquets of dandelions and windwheel asters. he goes out and picks them himself, wandering through fields to find ones he likes best. he could go to flora, but the sight of you smiling over flowers he picked himself is far more appealing than the extra fifteen minutes of sleep. as time goes on and he can confirm that you’re not opposed to the idea of his love, he gets a bit more bold. he teases about asking for a kiss, acting more confident than he is. should you lean down and actually give him one, even if on the cheek, he’ll fluster quite easily. listen when he promises that he loves you, as it took him a long time to work up the courage to say it.

zhongli is clear. he’s always quick to dispel any doubt in your mind about your relationship, his arms warm as he holds you close. from the moment he approached you at the shops, he’s never made a promise he couldn’t keep. lying is something he’s learned not to let into his life so easily, well aware of how quickly a handful of words are able to shatter relationships. he does keep his true identity private for a long while, needing to be sure you can keep a secret as easily as he can, but minds his words until then. he never speaks without fully intending what he says, his sentences prefaced by a pause as he thinks. every morning he makes his tea, wishing you a good day. every night he greets you with a kiss, ready to listen if you have anything to speak about. his advice is as genuine as the rest of him, but he also understands the effectiveness of a good hug sometimes. lay with him on the couch, let him tell you a story, have some tea if you’re so inclined. don’t worry, he’ll carry you to bed if you fall asleep.

ayato is protective. he can’t lose you, not now and not ever, so is willing to do anything to keep you safe. his behavior almost comes to a fault, as he tends to put himself lowest on his list of priorities. he’s likely been pining for years prior to the start of your relationship and only confessed by way of an accident with ayaka, which you were happy to hear. in his defense, he didn’t want to ruin the friendship the two of you had, even if his feelings burned in his chest whenever he saw you. even now, he’s tentative about trying anything new, sticking with what he knows you’ll like. you’ll likely be the one to say you love him first, and don’t be surprised if he doesn’t return it right away. he wants to ensure he can—for lack of better phrasing—support your relationship, as if you haven’t been working by his side for years. he probably talks to you in private about the dangers that come with being with him, promising that he wouldn’t be hurt if you were hesitant. take his hand in yours and stay by his side, and he’ll reward you with the world.

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin fluff #kaeya x reader #kaeya fluff #venti x reader #venti fluff #zhongli x reader #zhongli fluff #ayato x reader #ayato fluff #nobody. nobody look at me. #i know this is a flop post but. in my defense i’ve been watching miraculous ladybug. so checkmate. #no genshin thoughts only my sillies (and or THE silly /ij) #don’t ask about the title i am checked out of this mortal plane rn #no thoughts in my head. not One. i am just Here. doin jack shit yk

[scremogirl]

HII LOVE UR WRITING,, MAY I REQUEST (if no, pls ignore! :')

so theres this thing i do,,, as a clingy partner,, was wondering how ur yanyans will react?

Whenever reader wants some quiet quality type, they sit on the floor near where yandere's chair is, and lays their head on their lap and js continue scrolling on their phone...yanderes reactions??

★♑︎☆彡𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎✪𝐍!☆♏︎★

How my yans react to you putting your head in their laps

GN! Reader, ❤︎︎!!! Your words are in italics theirs are in bold. Check out their stories here ✩ ✰ 𖤐. I LOVE U FOR THIS ANON(•̀ᴗ•́)و

𝐓akenya

✩Does not know what to do

✩Literally will freeze like a deer in headlights when you show him any kind of affection.

✩Wants it so bad though!

✩Will act slightly like a tsundere if you call him out on how much he’s blushing

☆The head in the lap thing tho? You’re actually trynna kill him

He’s yet again invited you over under the guise of a study session. You knew this because A, you're not stupid and B, you’ve finished your work for the week. It was Friday and you had nothing better to do, so why not? The chance to lay in his large bed plus free snacks and fast internet? The chance was too good to give up. So here you are. Splayed out in his bed as he sits hunched over his desk to engrossed in his studies. You’re kinda scared he’ll get scoliosis from how long he’s been in that position. It’s been about an hour and some change since you’ve been here and you’re starting to get bored. And hungry. Your stomach growling over the video playing on your phone was enough to get you up and moving.

You call out to him and in an instant he drops the pen in his hand and turns all his attention to you. Before you get to tell him why you interrupted him so abruptly, your stomach answers for you. With a teasing smile it clicks in his head what you were gonna ask him and he asks you to grab some of those disgusting kale chips he likes on his way up. His house is basically a maze so you have enough time to think about the many ways you could clear your boredom.

Finally arriving at the kitchen you grab a handful of snacks and wave at the butler who's already stocked up once he learned of your arrival. This dude is loaded so he won’t miss anything, besides he got ‘em for you anyways. Speak of the devil, he hasn’t paid attention to you not once since you got here, it was his idea in the first place! Making your way upstairs you finally decide on the perfect way to clear that thought.

Handing him his snack of choice he thanks you before immediately returning back to work. However, he doesn’t get through much as he notices you haven’t moved. He’s about to ask what you're up to before you drop down to your knees and place your head in his lap.

“He-hey! What’re you doing? I can’t work like this,” you ignore him completely before whipping out your phone and opening your bag of chips. He’s about to continue his questioning when you raise your arm up and hover a chip close to his lips. He shakes his head to the other side but as soon as you see it snap back you shove it past his soft lips. You make sure to press down on his tongue just a little before pulling back and whipping the remaining saliva in his lips.

“Shut up,”

Not another word was spoken from him the rest of the day. You could feel his bulge against your head but didn’t pay it any mind. Who knows, maybe if he finishes fast enough you’ll finally get the attention you wanted.

𝐌icah

✰A common occurrence between the two of you tbh

✰It’s usually from him but he obviously doesn’t mind being on the receiving end; prefers it actually.

✰Can actually be quiet for once. He just loves to sit in the silence of such an intimate moment.

✰You on the other hand just wanted a comfortable place to take a nap.

“(Y/nnnnnn), I’m boreddd,” jeez can this guy exist without making noise. It’s not nothing you didn’t expect though, that’s just Micah is. You’ve known him too long to be annoyed by things like this so you just sigh.

“Put on a movie or something,” you don’t give him the. You don’t even give him the courtesy of eye contact seeing as they're closed. The bags under your eyes and slug of your shoulders as you lay down on the couch don’t go unnoticed. Yes! The perfect excuse for a cuddle session. Rising from his spit across from you he moves his way over to the kitchen, not forgetting to hand you the remote first already knowing he’d probably spend 10 min just looking for a good watch. Opting for YouTube instead you quickly put on some random try not to laugh in order to provide you some stimulation, resisting the cusps of sleep. Your eyes shift to the soft snow falling past the window, the cold not helping as you snuggle deeper into your blanket making you even more tired.

He returns with some hot cocoa and cookies as he takes a new spot next to you. You sit up and take the surgery treats as your eyes refocus onto the screen. His eyes stay on you though, enchanted at the thought of you. Ever since you were kids he knew he was gonna make you his and nobody would get in the way of that m. Not even you.

Too absorbed in la la land he fails to notice that you’ve already chugged down your drink and eaten your full of the cookies. He only snaps out of it when he feels pressure on his shoulders. As he lets you lay him down on the couch, he’s watching as you readjust the blanket to cover your whole body. You scoot your body down and lay your head on his lap snuggling closer into his warmth. Smoothing his hand through your hair (or scratching your back if your hair’s too short/thick) he listens to your breathing become more even. So happy that his sweet little angel finally catches some z’s.

𝐌iylo

✫I really CANT decide if he or Micah like it more.

𖤐The thing is with Micah, he’s been able to have his hands on you for years so he’s more used to affection.

𖤐Miylo on the other hand, before you “truly noticed” him has only ever been close enough as sharing a desk with you. There was that time when he had to help you out of a sticky situation(insert anon of him helping you become unstuck), but other than that he’s never felt your skin. (Besides the time he broke into your house and wacked his shit to your sleeping face before stealing your underwear (●’◡’●)ﾉ )

𖤐After you got over the fact that he wouldn’t leave you alone/became popular, he will never stop touching you

𖤐Putting your head in his lap is only sending yourself down into a long rabbit hole

You’ve been putting off this project for god knows how long. Being in various different clubs, applying for colleges, and the stress from your parents did no good for your health; physical or mental. The student council have all been divided for the purpose of a fundraiser you’re putting on for donations to various types of charity’s. You got satlled with the easiest so you couldn’t be to mad but the exhaustion from life was killing you.

“Finally! Now I can finally get some rest,” Christ, if you knew being apart the council gave you this much work you would’ve opted for something more functional. You hear a chuckle from beside you. Oh right… he’s here too. He wouldn’t stop bombarding you with his assistance, saying that “two heads are better than one,”. Luckily, you were able to block him out for most of this project but now you can’t. There’s only so much about his rambles on quantum theory and the newest Spider-Man movie you can take. What a fucking nerd. No matter though, all you're worried about is flopping down and living in your own world for a while and he wouldn’t stop you from that. He tries to say something but you're not having any of it.

Grabbing him by the tie, you yank him towards you. You feel just a little bad for how aggressive you were but knowing him he probably likes it. The blush in his cheeks and rubbing of his thighs only emphasizes your point.

“Listen close, all I want is to lay down and not have to worry about anything. So do me a favor and shut your mouth for a while and read a book or something; got it?” The nod you receive from him is timid but filled with obedience, that makes you smile a bit. You reach up and pay his head a little “Good boy,”

You shift him so he’s sitting up straight and shove his discarded book in his hands before laying down with your head in his lap. He’s frozen and shaking slightly but you don’t care. He realizes that and snaps back into himself probably realizing he won’t get you to be so willing to touch him next time. Getting comfortable he decides that maybe you wouldn’t mind him reading to you. And you don’t. His voice doing justice as you rest your eyes and continue to listen to the story.

Y’all I am so mad because I was writing in tumbler and my phone shut off and all my shit got deleted. I had to re-write Kenya's whole part and deleted most of the earth. N E WAYZ hope this what you asked for my love, ENJOY( ˘ ³˘)♥︎!!!

-Sos ❤️

#💕 anon #yandere! nerd x reader #yandere student council president #yandere childhood friend #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #★♑︎☆彡𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎✪𝐍!☆♏︎★

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret

chapter five : lunar interlude : just a man (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 5.0k

summary : a look into din's point of view

warnings, etc. : language, sexual fantasy, masturbation

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

Absurd.

It’s absurd how much the job pays. Din’s not even sure he should take it at this point because it’s too good to be true. But they promised monthly payments up front and he needed a new ship, and with what this gig pays, within the year he could buy a fleet. He could do this for a few years and be set for life. 

So he catches a ship to Naboo.

And he meets with a rather obnoxious prince who loves the novelty of having a Mandalorian working for him. It’s a good thing the job’s seemingly so easy because Prince Harand is off putting enough to make him reconsider. It’s simple, act as a personal guard to his wife. In exchange he’ll receive more credits than he’ll know what to do with and a private place to reside in. All he has to do is keep her from harm and make sure she doesn’t get into trouble. 

“Is she prone to getting into trouble?” Din doesn’t try to hide the distaste in his voice at how high-and-mighty the man is acting.

“You expect me to know that?”

Pig. 

After he accepts he’s given direct permission to disregard any of her orders that would prevent him from doing his job. 

He declines the invitation to attend the wedding, to say he’s indifferent to the whole affair would be an understatement. He isn’t in any hurry to meet the woman who agreed to marry that. So Prince Harand gives him a note, he doesn’t bother reading it, he just tosses it on the vanity and he waits alone in what he is told are your chambers. 

Weddings take a while. 

So he can’t help but be curious, after all did his employer expect him to just stand in the same spot all day? So he snoops, he’s allowed to be nosy, it might help him do a better job if he can get a grasp on who you are. He spends the next two hours inspecting the room from top to bottom and much to his annoyance he learns nothing. There isn’t a single personal item here. All the clothes are seemingly unworn, there’s no clutter, nothing. If anything he feels like he knows even less about you. Shit, does he even know your name? Had the prince mentioned it? Maker, did the prince even know the name of the woman he was marrying? What a clown. Whatever, it doesn’t matter, she’s royalty and he’s the help, she probably won’t even address him. So he waits for several hours. He just stands there, eventually he considers just leaving and reporting for duty tomorrow but he can hear voices in the hall now so he stands up a bit straighter, then the door creaks open and Kodo drunkenly peers in before slamming it shut again.

Idiot. 

Is that laughter? 

He doesn’t get any time to wonder what that was about because a Twi’lek opens the door and then you walk in. And he’s frozen in place. Your eyes are on him and the room is suddenly dreadfully hot. It’s like you're under some sort of spell that pulls you towards him and he can’t breathe. Why would they put such garish makeup on such a beautiful face?

He should say something. He needs to say something. Introduce yourself you dimwit. 

He opens his mouth but before he can utter a sound you touch him. It feels like his heart has stopped. He can see you speaking but he doesn’t hear a thing, captivated by the way your mouth moves when you talk, your tongue poking out slightly to wet your lips as you graze his chest plate with your fingertips.

It’s enough to make a man want to abandon his creed and take you right there. 

This must be some kind of punishment for all of the terrible things he’s done. The gods are punishing him with this paragon of a woman that he is doomed to spend his days with but he can never have. The ringing in his ears finally clears up and he hears the first words he can actually get a grasp on that come through your perfect mouth. 

“Is this some sort of weird fetish of his?” 

Well. The ringing is back in his ears. He thinks he might just have to die in this position at this point cause it’s definitely too late to speak up, he waited too long, what the hell is the matter with him? He’s a fucking bounty hunter for gods sake, he’s fought beasts of all shapes and sizes and suddenly he’s been conquered by some woman he doesn’t even know?

Your small hand grabs the edge of the helmet and he’s finally able to snap out of it when you go to remove it. On instinct he manages to catch both your wrists in one hand. 

“Don’t.” Thank the gods the modulator covers up the way his voice cracks. You’re scolding him, you’ve poked a finger into his chest plate but he’s having a hard time paying attention because he can’t seem to take his eyes off of the way your face flushes red, and then your neck, and then your chest. 

How low does the crimson tint go?

For Makers sake snap out of it man, you’re one of the most dangerous men in the galaxy not a school boy with a crush. 

You’re staring at the Twi’lek, scowling. He has to silence his helmet to hide the laughter that bursts out as you actually manage to get him to leave just by eyeballing him.

He manages to get through the conversation with you without tearing your clothes off, although there is a close call when you hike up your skirt to remove an anklet and like some sort of repressed Victorian woman, he sees just a glimpse of your ankle and can feel blood rushing south. 

For god’s sake. At that point he just closes his eyes because this situation cannot get any worse, and then he can hear your dress hit the floor and he has never had to work so hard to keep his eyes shut. 

“...I want to hear it from you.” 

“My job is to make sure you are not harmed.” Can you hear the strain in his voice as he wills himself not to get hard? Gods he hopes not. He needs to get out of this situation fast, he’s getting ready to dismiss himself and find Kodo and tell him to take the money back, that he can’t do this but you say something that stops him dead in his tracks.

“Actually I’m good.”

He can’t stop the exasperation in his voice.

“Excuse me?” 

“Can you not hear through the helmet? I’m good. I’ve already got an ensemble of people trailing me. I don’t need another.”

You can’t be serious. 

“You’re dismissed.” 

You are. 

People don’t typically talk to him like that. They’re always too afraid. But you aren’t, you don’t seem to be frightened by him in the slightest. He was going to leave, he wanted to leave, but it’s been a long time since someone challenged him like this. 

“You don’t have the authority to dismiss me.” He snaps back. 

He likes arguing with you. He doesn’t get to argue with people. Who wants to argue with a Mandalorian? Most people don’t want to get shot by a trained killer. 

You don’t appear to be most people.

He wants to rile you up, wants to see the fire in your eyes, he’d do just about anything to be the target of your anger. 

So he teases you, until he leaves, making sure to get the last word in. He sets up a few imperceptible motion sensors just under your door knob so he can make sure he’s alerted if you decide to make a run for it. 

And then he’s alone. So he goes to where he was told his lodging would be, it’s about a twenty minute walk but he doesn’t mind, it’s secluded, cozy. The cabin reminds him a bit of the crest, just big enough to be comfortable. 

He takes a cold shower and tries not to think about his boss's wife. 

✩

The next few weeks aren’t any easier. 

You seemingly can’t stand him and he decides it’s for the best. You should hate him, he deserves it since your husband is paying him outrageous amounts of money to follow you around all day and fantasize about all the ways he could make you hate him a little less. 

It’s hell.

Having to watch you day in and day out. Watch you wander around aimlessly, like a bird trapped in a cage. His least favorite days are when he has to attend dinners with you and your husband. The man is an ogre. And that’s why he can’t seem to leave. He thinks about it, often. Just packing up and catching the next ship off planet. But if he leaves, who's going to protect you from this creep? So he stays.

Eventually, he watches you less like it’s his job and more like it’s his religion. 

Things only get worse when one night he wakes up with a start, sitting up in bed as he hears the beeping from his gauntlet that signifies your door being opened. It’s the middle of the night. What if somebody got in? There’s no way, you have a state of the art locking system that only he and a few staff can get into, unless they have a code. What if it was just your husband? Why does that make him don his armor faster? He has no right to barge in there if it’s simply your spouse coming in to fulfill his marital duty, yet he’s in a dead sprint towards the castle the moment he’s dressed. He had fallen asleep in his flight suit with his helmet on anyway, it didn’t take him long and when he gets to your room he’s tense the moment he sees that the door is closed. Ever so slightly adjusting the audio on his helmet he discerns that the room is empty so he switches his vision so he can trail you and sure enough a set of footprints is going off in the familiar direction of the library. 

It was a relief. To know that no one had gotten in and you had simply left on your own accord but why would you be sneaking out to the library? You go to the library everyday, you should be sick of it. So he silently walks until he sees the faint light of a glowrod illuminating your face, a stack of books clutched in your arms. And he’s about to say something, you’re only a few feet ahead of him but when you turn you’re wearing such a thin nightgown, and the robe is hardly doing anything to cover you. Before he can react you’re rushing forward slamming into him. 

And now he’s facing the worst torture yet. 

Your robe fell off one of your shoulders as you dropped and now you’re sprawled out on the floor below him, your hair is down, messy from sleep, your slip of a nightgown riding up your thighs as you look up into the darkness at him. And then you fucking groaned. And all he can think about is how easy it would be to turn that fabric into confetti. 

Help her up jackass. 

He reaches down and of course you swat his hands away. You should hate him. 

He helps you back to your room and the moment he knows you aren’t going to try anything he rushes back in the direction of the library. He knows you're fuming, the least he can do is go get your books. But then he’s picking them up and looking at the titles he can’t believe how warm it is in the castle suddenly. He’s used to the heat. Wearing this many layers you build up a tolerance.

But now he’s looking at the stack of smutty romance novels you’d wanted so badly you’d snuck out to get them and he’s sweating. 

He makes it back to the cabin in half the time it usually takes him. He was in such a hurry he had completely forgotten about returning your books to you. He tosses them to the side and in an instant he’s practically throwing his armor to the ground, he only manages to get half of it off before he sprawls out on his bed, discarding his gloves haphazardly as he frees his cock from his trousers. His helmet bumping against the wall as he leans back and starts stroking himself, his palms are so clammy he doesn’t even bother spitting in his hand. 

It’s shameful how close he already is just at the sight of you on the floor like that. His hips stutter upwards into his fist as he imagines you on top of him, your thighs wrapped around his waist, hair disheveled, wearing that pretty little negligee. Maker, your skin always looks so soft, you’d feel so much better than his calloused hands. Were you gonna read those dirty books and touch yourself with those delicate little fingers of yours? 

It doesn’t take long after that before he reaches his hasty climax, cumming with a filthy groan of your name, shooting ropes up onto his stomach. 

He definitely deserves to have you hate him. 

He tries to not even look at you after that. Until one day when you’re in the library once again and it’s obvious to him that you’re pretending to read your book, your eyes dart up to glare at him every few seconds. 

You’re looking at him like bounties look at him once they’ve been caught and are plotting to attempt an escape, purely out of habit he chides you.

“Don’t”

And that’s all it takes. He actually manages to talk to you. Of course it’s easier once he imagines you as a particularly unruly bounty, to snap back at you. If you were a real bounty he’d have a hard time turning you in. 

You’d look nice in the cuffs. 

Don’t. Keep it in your pants you moron. 

He even offers to take you to the gardens, you deserve that at the very least, a few hours outside of this sweltering castle. 

Then he takes you back to your quarters and you look at him with those heart eyes and he feels like he’s going to pass out when you so eagerly make him promise to show you the gardens. 

It’s selfish. But he has to get in one last dig, he has to see that bloom of color on your skin one last time as he tells you that your book had been upside down. 

It all becomes so manageable. For a moment he thinks that the two of you might be able to handle this little antagonistic relationship that you’re beginning to build. It would be nice, to have you keeping him in check, to have reminders that you dislike him. 

But he had to go and ruin it all.

It all went wrong so fast it made his head spin. 

It all started when you were in that damned dress. You’d been the most stunning woman he’d ever seen even in the campy, over the top makeup, and the flashy unattractive dresses. But now here you were in that yellow gown and it was like he was seeing you clearly for the first time. There weren’t any flashy accessories to distract him from your face. That flawless face. 

So he was already a little off his game at that point.

And then he slipped up. He couldn’t help it, not when you were standing next to him, dressed like that. He called you little flower. That had been something just for him and like the blundering fool that he was in your presence he blurted it out without thinking. He could feel that familiar paralysis, he hated the effect you had on him. Thank the gods he had done it in Mando’a. 

But you’re you so of course you don’t drop it. And then you make it worse because you touch him. 

And then he makes things worse because he lashes out.

Then he thinks you’re hurt and he makes an ass of himself.

And lashes out again. He’s not even that mad about the droid comment he’s just overwhelmed, he’s never been this overwhelmed and this stupid fucking planet is so hot.

It keeps getting worse, he can’t shut the fuck up and finally you tell him to leave and he can’t because he wants to stay, he wants to stay and scream at you because he can’t stand how much he needs you it makes him physically ill how you haunt him day and night.

So he says no.

And the look on your face is enough to make him want to swear a new creed to make sure you never look so betrayed ever again. 

After that you should hate him. He’s glad you hate him. He’s glad you’re giving him the silent treatment, he deserves much worse. 

The first day all he can think about is apologizing. You sit in that little nook, back in your blue dresses, looking furious. He just doesn’t know what to say that won’t make this worse. 

The second day all he can think about is how he could make it up to you. He’s got a couple of ideas of things that might wipe that frown off your face. He’s obviously not going to just abandon his creed but you definitely don’t make it easy, there’s a million different things that he wants to do to you that would be rather difficult if he can’t use his mouth.

He doesn’t make any real progress on day two either and later that night ends up with his face buried in his pillow, fucking his fist. 

The third day he’s actually kind of pissed. If you two have something in common it’s how stubborn you can be and suddenly he’s mad at you, for no real reason, he supposes he’s just sick of feeling sorry. 

And then there’s that dinner. 

He wants to kill that ignorant, snooty, little man more than he’s ever wanted to kill a person. He wants to make it last, it’s been a long time since he’s killed something, he would enjoy killing Kodo.

But all that rage goes away when he catches a glimpse of your expression and it’s replaced with fear. He’s never seen you look so small and suddenly he’s terrified that you’ve lost that fire. He’ll go back and massacre Kodo right now if he truly did extinguish your flame. 

So he breaks the silence. And asks if you're okay. 

And he’s relieved when you ramble on, even though he wishes so desperately he could wipe your tears away. Of course you’d be harder than that to put out. His light is okay, and that's all that matters. 

So he leaves you your book. 

He had gotten bored and read one of them. The Smitten Paladin. It was racy but it’s what she had gone to get in the first place so why not. But that isn’t enough. Not after what you just went through, so he opens the cover and leaves his favorite color, green, written inside, it’s the least he can do. 

✩

He goes into the next day with the intention of apologizing. Not entirely sure what for. 

Sorry your husband is a scumbag. You should leave him for me. 

Doesn’t exactly have a ring to it. 

Before he can think of what to say you come out of your room and he’s thankful for the helmet because his jaw would be on the floor. 

Maker, did you wear that just for him?

The green dress clings to the outline of your torso and it feels like he’s been punched in the gut. Actually, he’s been punched in the gut plenty of times and this is worse because your hair is down and it’s all he can do to not tangle his fingers in it and drag you back into your room. What kind of game are you trying to play with him? Dressing in that color, making yourself irresistible, what the hell is your angle? He’s cautious and slow when he greets you. He remains on edge all the way to the library.

And then you take out the fucking book. 

You can’t be serious. 

This can’t be happening. 

You can’t just do this.

You can’t just sit there in that dress. With your hair falling so exquisitely across your face, begging to be brushed behind your ear, reading porn directly in front of him.

If you’re trying to punish him it’s working. This is torture. If you used this method to interrogate him for information he would have folded immediately. He sits there for hours, sweating his ass off as you perch in that little nook of yours, it would be so easy for him to just bend you over it and lift up the skirt of that lovely little gown. Is that what you want? He’s getting dizzy. Why else would you do this and then read a fucking erotic novel in front of him? Is this some kind of test? 

Then you look at him. It’s easy to forget since he’s always wearing a helmet that you don’t know when he’s staring right at you. You glance up at him through your eyelashes and you don’t look away. He’s so hard he’s pretty sure he’s about to burst through the front of his pants. What is your goal here? Your face is turning that delicious shade of red and you haven’t so much as looked at the pages in front of you for minutes at this point.

If this is some game of chicken he isn’t going to lose. No matter how badly he wants it, he won’t lay a hand on you unless you ask him for it. Did you just squeeze your thighs together?

For god's sake, ask for it. Ask for anything he’ll fucking do it.

He can’t take it anymore. So he speaks, teases you. It’s innocent enough. 

Keep it innocent. 

So you go back and forth and it’s safe. For a moment. He manages to adjust himself in the chair so it hopefully isn’t too obvious that he’s pitching a tent severe enough to camp under. And then he can’t stop himself from asking how the book is and before he knows it you’re asking if he had to take a vow of celibacy. 

This isn’t okay.

And then you ask if he can take the armor off. 

For Makers sake you’re married.

He needs to ask about something else. Anything else.

“The book, what’s it about?” 

Yeah, let's talk about the porn again. Dumbass. 

And then you say the words that make him want to just abandon his post and quit. Get as far away from this planet as possible.

“I wasn’t really stuck on anything… I suppose I was just trying to figure out how he fits it all in there?”

Fuck. Does she know? Is she trying to be coy?

You can’t know. He hadn’t seen your eyes dart between his legs. This can’t be happening, this is so bad. Kodo would have him killed for this. So he plays his last card, that he read the book. And thankfully it actually works, you’re so distracted by the fact that he read your book that he manages to get you out of the library and back to your chambers. 

He can’t get back to his cabin fast enough.

Cold shower. Bed. That’s the order of events. Nothing else. 

But he can’t get away from you. It’s worse when he sleeps because in his dreams you are so much less confusing. 

In his dreams you join him in that cold shower and you warm him up in several different ways (and several different positions) and he can take off his helmet and look at you unfiltered. You're the leading lady of all of his dreams, since the day he met you he has never had a break from you. 

That isn’t always a good thing because he wakes up from those dreams he has to go see the real you. The one that hates him. As you should.

✩

It was already a rough morning, there is nothing as humbling as waking up to find you’ve cum in your pants like some pent up teenager. 

The morning only gets rougher when he goes to retrieve you and you aren’t there.

Fuck.

What’s the protocol for this sort of thing? He doesn’t even bother trying to figure that out because his hand is already on his blaster and he’s throwing doors open. This isn’t the time to panic, he needs to pull himself together.

And then he throws open the right door and you’re sitting there in the tub with your hand shoved between your legs, your head tilted back ever so slightly with your eyes shut tight. You’re his dream come to life and simultaneously his worst nightmare. He wants to look away. He needs to look away but he’s a goner the moment he sees your soapy chest. 

This has to be a record breakingly bad morning. 

And yet by some miracle he fixes it. Or rather, the garden fixes it. You couldn’t pay him to look away from your face. He wants you to look like this all the time, beaming, curious, truly happy. And he can’t help himself, he doesn’t deserve it, but he’s greedy and he wants to know more about you, wants to hear your voice. So he suggests the game and Maker, you play it. 

Gods, he’s weak. Why do you make him so weak?

The moment you ask for a question if you win he knows what you’ll ask. He hadn’t planned on letting you win, but you looked so content, he could just tell you but he passes on the last question. He wants you to know what it means. 

It’s selfish to ask for anything else, he shouldn’t be rewarded for this kind of behavior, but he does it anyway, and he asks for more. He asks for more days, just the two of you, and you say yes. 

And when you ask what sarad'ika means he’s sure this is where he gets what he deserves, this is where you’ll spit in his face, call him a creep, and tell him to leave. But you don’t. Instead you politely say good night to him. 

This can’t be real. There’s just no way. But there you are, each morning, in your much simpler gowns that suit you so perfectly, and you ask him to read because you don’t want him to be bored and how could he possibly say no to you. You could ask him for the moons and he’d find a way to give them to you.

But it has to end eventually. 

And it does on the fifth cycle as reality crashes in and he has to escort you to dinner with your husband. 

She’s married.

✩

It keeps getting worse. He’s asked to leave. He can’t. He can’t just leave you in a room full of drunk men, especially these drunk men. Especially that drunk man. His mind is racing at light speed but he can’t think of a single argument for why he should stay. 

And then you look at him with those pleading eyes and his heart starts pounding out of his chest.

Maybe he could take on six battle droids.

But he doesn’t, of course. Because what if you got caught in the crossfire. You hadn’t produced an heir, you were still expendable to Prince Harand. And he has to leave you alone with him. 

It’s the longest two hours of his life. 

He wants to tune it out, to turn off any exterior sound on the helmet but he can’t because what if something happened to you? So he listens to every word.

He’s never felt so small. 

It’s a pitiful feeling. To go through your entire life being used to doing things a certain way to protect the ones you care for. And then when it comes down to the person that means the most to you you can’t do a thing.

For a man who has solved nearly all of his problems in life with a blaster, to suddenly be unable to do so? It’s pathetic. 

They could punish her if I intervene.

They could kill her. 

They could kill me.

Lock me up.

Who would protect her then? 

Maker, he hasn’t felt this crushing sensation in his chest since he had to say goodbye to the kid. He can’t breathe. 

He’s supposed to be the strong one.

Yet he has been conquered by a fucking door. 

He doesn’t even realize you're out. Or that you’ve kicked him. Or that you’re suddenly sitting between his legs. He’s too far gone. It isn’t until he feels his helmet adjust that he snaps out of it. 

Because you’re real. And you’re okay.

No thanks to him.

And he can’t stop the words that pour out of his mouth. Never in his life has he been reduced to this, afraid like this. You should be disgusted. That the Mandalorian sworn to protect you had been diminished to this. Just a man.

But you aren’t. You’re warm, and gentle, and soft, and real. 

He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve you.

So he stands. And he helps you up.

He needs you to hate him again. It’s the only thing that keeps him grounded. 

So he escorts you to your chambers, and you turn to him and say those five damning words. 

“Do you wanna come in?” 

He’s weak. And he’s selfish. Don’t do this Mando.

But he isn’t a Mandalorian right now. He’s just a man. 

With you he's just Din.

So he nods.

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

#lincolndjarin #the mandalorian #best kept secret #bks #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #din dijarin x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #RE UPLOAD

[ghost-proofbaby]

I literally love your work and this 3k celebration is absolutely GENIUS so can I please get a filthy martini with Steve Harrington? Can it be enemies with benefits(also hate fucking? I blame you for this new trope obsession bc 24 hours GOT ME FERAL)?

nonnie i love you this is the such an incredible request i can only hope i did it justice oh my GOD

come party with me!

sweet like honey (steve harrington x fem! reader)

warnings: smut, p in v, mean steve sort of if you squint?, oral f receiving, talk of unprotected sex, cnc hickies? is that a thing? she says no and then he does it anyway?, arguing over using protection (steve says he'll convince her to not use it next time, but they use it this time!), not edited, minors dni

You hate him. You swear it to yourself, to your friends, to your own mother who sometimes points him out at sport events or at the local grocery store. You hate Steve Harrington. Simple as that. 

But maybe, just maybe, it isn't as simple as that. 

Because you hate him, yes - to your very core -  but you still always end up here. You still answer when he texts you in the middle of the night, you still meet him at your spot at the park that serves as a halfway point between your house and his, and you still end up in his lap in the backseat of the BMW his daddy bought for him. 

“This is the last time, Harrington,” you murmur through fervent kisses as you sit as comfortably as possible in his lap, “I mean it.”

He pulls back with that boyish grin that you absolutely despise, tightening his grip on your hips as his head tilts, “Of course, honey. Just like you said the last two times, right?” 

You don’t offer him an answer, instead plunging back in for a biting kiss. You imagine that if you take his bottom lip between your teeth hard enough, if you bite down with the right pressure, he’ll bleed. And the thought of tasting Steve Harrington’s blood across your tongue is more exciting than you care to admit. 

“Yes, but I really do mean it this time,” you insist against his mouth, your hangs tangling against the roots of his hair. Your goal is to mess it up, to rake through the product and all the time you know he spends in the mirror each morning, and ruin it. 

He only hums in response and urges you down onto his lap harder, the bulge confined in his jeans pressing into you more noticeably. 

“Hard already?” you tsk, rolling your hips harder against him, eliciting a load moan from his lips.

He’s just so easy. Maybe that’s why you keep coming back for more. 

“God, just shut up,” he gasps against you, moving his mouth along your jaw and neck. 

He starts to suck hard on your sweet spot, which in return makes you tug sharply on his hair. Hard enough to make him hiss in pain, “No fucking marks, how many times do I have to tell you?” 

“I know,” he says, clearly not knowing, as he continues to chuckle and trace his finger along the junction of your neck and shoulder, “But imagine just how pretty you’d look, all marked up by me.” 

“And imagine how pretty you’d look with your head between my thighs, not fucking talking,” you remark back. 

No marks. Because if he left a mark, then people might know. And you’d rather die than have anyone find out you had been fucking around with Steve Harrington the last two months. 

Steve suddenly maneuvers the two of you so that you’re laid out across the seat, fitting himself between your legs with clear practice. The two of you have been in this backseat more times than you can count, and have learned your way around the confinement of it all. 

He pushes up the flimsy sleep shorts you’d worn out, bunching them at the top of your thighs as far as they will go as he places kisses up your inner thigh, starting at your knee, “I know you said no marks, sweetie,” his tone is laced with condescending confidence, teeth nipping at the soft skin as he looks up at you, “But what about here, hm? Where no one can see them? Do we have a deal?” 

He’s going to get his way. He always knows he can get his way when he starts to soften you up like this, one hand gripping your knee and already guiding it over his shoulder as the other trails beneath the waistband of the shorts and draws circles on your hip. 

“If anyone can see them, Harrington, I’ll-”

“Kick my ass,” he finishes your sentence for you, already moving to nuzzle his nose into your thigh, “Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all before, babe.” 

He sucks and nips immediately at your makeshift permission, his saliva glistening against the purple bursting to life on your skin in the shape of his lips. 

“Lay off the nicknames,” you sigh, throwing your head back as his moves to make a second mark, higher up and closer to where you ache for him, “Or I will go back home and leave you with blue balls.”

His chuckle vibrates against your skin, eyes flicking up towards you. It’s a shame he’s such an absolute dick, because he looks pretty from here. Hair messed up as you intended, pupils blown wide, lips nearly magnetic against you as if he can’t get enough.

“Oh, honey, you wouldn’t,” he taunts, finally sitting up, beginning to take off your shorts, “We both know you don’t mean it, do you? You can threaten me all you want, but you still come back every,” your shorts are off, and he pauses to lean down and bite at your hip now before continuing, “single,” he moves to the other hip, sucking hard, leaving a weaker shade of violet in his path, “time.” 

You don’t reply as you whine out, hips bucking up, encouraging him to get it over with. To put his mouth where you need it most. To stop with his incessant cooing and taunting and to just fuck you with his tongue. 

He gets the message fairly clearly through his thick skull. 

And you like him best like this, quiet as he slides your panties to the side, tongue on your clit and already sliding his fingers into you, hellbent on unraveling you. He’s learned your body best at this point, knowing when to crook his fingers as he adds a second one, when to alternate between wrapping his lips around your clit to suck and using only the tip of his tongue to trace invisible shapes lost on you. He’s quiet, he’s as messy as a boy like him is capable of getting, and he knows.

But he’s eager. You’d say it’s his downfall, but you truly reap the benefits when he brings you right to the edge only to pull back and begin to make quick work of his own pants. He’s still in his jeans and polo, his work vest discarded in the front seat, his belt quickly joining it. 

You have no time to make another smart ass remark. No opportunity to poke fun at the way he bumps his head against the roof of the car or the way he struggles with his zipper a second longer than he should. Because once he’s gotten his cock out of his briefs, thick and pink and already leaking from the tip for you, he makes quick work to be inside you. 

“Condom,” you gasp out as his tip circles your interest, making him pause for the first time the entire night.

His eyebrows furrow, “You’re on the pill, yeah? We didn’t use one last time.” 

“My mistake,” you grit out, fighting the urge to just let him sink into you, to feel him stretch you in a way you both know only he can, “I know you’re fucking other girls. Wrap it, or I’m out, Harrington.” 

A sudden break of softness. In an instant, his teasing halts and he pulls back, looking at you with a hand still wrapped around his base, “I’m not fucking other girls.”

“What?”

“I said,” he leans down, warm brown eyes staring into yours, “I’m not fucking other girls. Only you. Only has been you since this entire thing started.” 

If you were an idiot, you’d read more into his words. You’d read into the fact that the town’s womanizer, Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, has taken himself off the market for you. You’d think about it the rest of the night, your entire way back home, fantasize about it as you closed your eyes and begged for sleep. 

But you’re not an idiot. So you laugh at him. 

“Bullshit,” you say, maintaining eye contact, daring him into some unspoken war between the two of you. 

You watch as his jaw locks, his eyes set in stone, before he suddenly is fumbling around the car floor and producing his wallet. He pulls a condom from where it had been nestled between an abhorrent amount of cash, and he’s hasty in ripping it open.

“Fine,” he mumbles as he rolls the latex over his cock, “Fine. You want me to wear a condom, sweet thing? I’ll wear a condom. But I’m going to fuck you so good, you’ll be begging me to go raw next time.” 

Your stomach clenches, your core flutters. He hasn’t even fucked you yet, and you’re already reconsidering your insistence.

“Consider it a challenge, Harrington.” 

When the stretch finally comes, you’re preening into him, back arching and legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. He’s harsh now in his actions, hardly allotting time to adjust once he bottoms out before he pulls back and repeats the motion, slamming into you harder the second time. 

He finds his rhythm quickly; he knows what you like. He knows that you want it rough, that you want him to destroy you from the inside out. Your nails claw at him through the cotton of his shirt, and you consider the ramifications if you were to tear through the fabric, leave holes and make the shirt unrecognizable. 

Mommy and daddy would probably buy him a new one. 

Your fingers dig in deeper at the thought. 

“This good, yeah?” he asks, snapping his hips up into your hard enough to that your body shifts upwards, back burning from the rough tapestry of the seat and the top of your head banging into the car door, “You like it hard, don’t you, baby?” 

No words are formed, your mouth open as whines and moans alike tear from your throat, pulling him in closer. He dips his lips back down into your shoulder, placing messy kisses up to your throat. 

“You’re always such a good little slut for me, aren’t you? What would your mother think? What would your friends think?” he presses as a hand grips your bare thigh hard enough to leave marks, holding your leg even harder to his hips, “Going all cock drunk for Steve Harrington, the boy you hate.”

“Shut up,” you groan out, grabbing at his hair and pulling harshly, trying to lift his head from your throat. He doesn’t follow the pull of your hand. Instead, he bites down on the skin he was previously kissing innocently against.

He leaves a mark. You know he does. But all you're capable of is a pathetic whine as your pussy flutters around him, sucking him deeper into you. 

“Fucking knew it,” he mumbles against the skin before his tongue lathes over the spot that still stings, “Fucking knew you loved being marked up, baby. Tried to stop me all this time because you knew you loved it so much.” 

“Steve,” you beg as your head hits the door yet again from the force of another thrust.

He slows his movements, head lifting to take in your features. Your teary eyes, your heaving chest to match his own, “Fuck, too hard?”

You breathlessly laugh, shaking your head, pressing your heel into his lower back, “Harder. Please.” 

Those two words are all it takes. Something snaps inside of Steve right there, in his backseat, you a writhing mess beneath him as his jeans continue to slip down his thighs. Your pleads are his command; he offers the smallest of mercies by moving a palm to protect the top of your head before his thrusts turn animalistic. 

He’s pounding into you as if his life depends on it, as if your pussy is a warm and wet savior he had sought out for years. The surrounding windows begin to fog over as he presses his sweaty forehead to yours, swallowing each of your mewls in exchange for guttural moans of his own. Your pussy clenches down on him, hard, and it does nothing to slow his pace. 

“Fuck,” you call out, back arching further. His hand trails below you and settles into the curve of your lower back, pressing you up against him further as he continues. “Oh my God, don’t stop. Please, fuck- Don’t stop. Please, please.”

Steve laughs lowly at your babbling, “I’m not, sweetheart. I’m not. Let go.” 

Just like that, you feel the pleasure heat up your core, molten between your hips as you feel every inch of him continue to stretch your walls. His hips begin to stutter as you tighten around him, crying out as the coil tightens to it’s breaking point. It overflows from you, whimpers and cries alike as he kisses them away with clashing lips and teeth. The waves of euphoria are still consuming you and dragging you under when he suddenly stiffens, stilling deep inside of you and collapsing down on top of your chest, groaning the loudest of the night between pants, his hand still curled into the small of your back. 

You suddenly wish you could feel his heat filling you. He was right - next time, there will be no condoms. You want to feel him, need to feel all of him. 

You both are quiet as you catch your breaths, neither saying a word as you come down from your highs. In a moment of innocent serenity, accidental peace amongst enemies, he presses his cheek against your sternum through your own shirt. You can feel his heart hammering in his chest against your torso. 

But the peace must end. Because you’re you, and Steve’s Steve, and the two of you can only fit together so effortlessly for so long.  He finally lifts his head, the devilish boyish grin returning, as he asks, “So, same time tomorrow, honey?”

#3k celebration #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #side note i tried to make a divider for this event but can't figure out how to make it transparent boooo #i wrote this in like an hour i'm sorry if it sucks haha #it simply poured out of me the moment i saw the request

[yandere-kokeshi]

Yandere Ghost, König, and Soap with a gn darling who has Autism

Warnings: yandere behavior and a bit ooc character; I'm a believer for König having ADHD.

A/N: this was a request but someone deactivated which deleted their ask. Happy Autism awareness month! I'm all extremely proud of you <3

I did my research on Autism but I'm not fully aware of the diagnosis(?). If I offended anyone, that's not what I meant, and please send an ask if I did anything incorrectly.

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

It’s likely that he already knew or saw the signs and decided to research it; which, led him to read a fair amount about autism to connect with you.

However, he’s not a physiatrist and he’s not dumb enough to assume, which leads him to keep it private or not bring it up before you do. Mental and physical health is personal. He won’t dig into your diagnosis unless he views it as harmful. However, once you do feel ready to tell him, he will be incredibly supportive and try his best to learn about your triggers.

When it comes to things that overwhelm you, he’s pretty good at tracking those things. Certain textures and noises are written down and taken very seriously by him.

Don’t like the feeling of jeans? He will make sure not to wear them around you or buy you some.

Hate the sound of cardboard or styrofoam? Simon makes sure not to unbox packages near you or let you be in sight of it.

Protective over a certain object? He will make sure to never use it, and if he does need to, he will ask and won’t get upset if you say no. Consent is taken seriously with this man.

Speaking of consent, He’s pretty clear with it — he won’t touch you. He’s pretty adamant about making sure you don’t feel like a nuisance or try to ‘force’ you to do things with him, including touching. It’s your body, it has rules and he’s gonna respect those. Boundaries are there for a reason.

After a while with you, he’s learned your body language and a few things to communicate with you without spoken words. The two of you have secret signals, certain pulled-up fingers or touches mean certain words; do you need company or alone time? Want to have space or be cuddled with him? Is the room too bright or too loud? Whatever you need, he’ll help out as much as he can.

A plus side with Simon is that he speaks pretty clearly; no unnecessary, soft metaphors with him. He means whatever he says, you don’t have to worry about missing something as he speaks directly with anyone, including you. If he does make a mistake or offend you, he’s more willing to acknowledge his mistake and learn from it. Don’t be afraid to approach him, he can handle it.

If you enjoy parallel play, Simon is someone who enjoys it just as much. He doesn’t mind sitting in the same room with you, just enjoying each other’s presence without talking or engaging with each other and doing your own thing. He feels comfort by being in the same room, simply reading a book, watching TV, or doing work as you do the same. You don’t always need conversation to be comfortable. He respects that of you.

Having little to no eye contact, being blunt/or forward, and getting burnt out in public places easily don’t bother him either. Simon understands that eye contact doesn’t equal attention. He’s also a fan of not big places, he’s a homebody and prefers to be in his safe area with you.

Simon is one of those people who prefers when people speak their minds, and say what they mean. Just get straight to the point, don’t hint at things other than expect others to know the meaning. It’s boring — plus, he gets to understand things easier.

While Simon is incredibly good at being supportive and respecting your boundaries, he sometimes doesn’t understand/or grasp the concept of emotional dysregulation or hyper-empathy.

He doesn’t know what to do if you get upset over something ‘small’. But, with learning like a good husband, he will ask you questions based on what will help you: do you need comfort? If so, how would you like it? Words or physical touch? Or just being in the same room so you can feel at least his presence?

He actually enjoys having certain patterns with you. He likes order and sticking to it, so whenever the two of you go grocery shopping or out in public, he will follow right behind you like a guard dog as he shuffles around people in the aisles; making sure nobody touches you or gets in your way; he will help guide you, a hand on your hip as he follows you around.

Gives you his full attention whenever you’re talking about something you are very passionate about — whatever it’s about, he hums along and asks questions to know more. He likes learning new things from you and may share some things of his own! He enjoys seeing you happy about the hobbies you are joyful about.

When the world becomes too loud for you and a bunch is going around you, Simon will pull you somewhere quieter, allowing you to have a moment by yourself to recollect; helping you with breathing patterns, or asking you questions to help you in some way.

Ghost is deadly serious about protecting you. If anyone gives you weird looks or dares to say anything, he will look at them until they get scared and walk away — he’s not afraid to throw fists if they dare approach you.

Stimming? Simon is happy that you’re expressing yourself, as long as you’re not physically hurting yourself, he won’t mind you doing your own thing. He enjoys it rather.

He doesn't mind if you are fiddling with his fingers, repeatedly pulling at your clothing, or tapping your fingers at the dinner table as the two of you eat; rarely do these habits annoy him. He actually encourages these stims.

König:

Extremely supportive and understanding. He will make sure to learn about it, as well as ask you frequent questions on what things can/will trigger you. You’re his spouse, a person he’s admired and loved, he’s willing to do anything to help you, including with your troubles.

König can relate to some of your daily struggles. While he knows that he’s not autistic, he does have ADHD and anxiety which causes some things to clash with yours: hyperfixations, certain textures that make your skin crawl, stimming, and fidgeting, or rejection sensitivity. There’s a whole lot more to go on with, but to an extent, König can understand you while he’s prone to help you.

If you ever feel overwhelmed, even in the place of a restaurant or going shopping, and need to leave, he will utmost support you and never let you apologize.

Shopping can happen another day, he can go down there and finish it later; you are always his top priority. Eating at a restaurant is for fun, and you are not ruining it. Today wasn’t your day, tomorrow is another day that we can try.

Is super respectful, even with touching you and approaching your space. He’s always been a gentle giant, no matter how many years the two of you have been together since kidnapping.

If you don’t want to be touched, he won’t be affected by it and will respect you. Boundaries are always heard, loud and clear with this man.

With König, he’s shy — sometimes his body language can be too stiff and he can’t say the right words without stuttering or making a mess of himself. However, he will try to learn to be more straightforward with you, especially with being needy or wanting kisses.

Stimming around him is completely normal, as he does it. He’s fine with you swinging his arms around when holding hands, singing along to a song that he hasn’t heard before, or continuously pacing in the house. Whatever you feel comfortable doing, please do it; much like Ghost, he encourages your stimming.

They’re simply a part of you, which he adores like the others. As long as you’re not physically hurting yourself, he won’t engage and leave you alone with your own thing.

If you’re hyper-fixated with certain things, whether that’s about the 18th century, bugs and reptiles, or rocks/minerals, König will go out of his way to surprise you with things you enjoy.

He enjoys it whenever you decide to tell him random hobbies or facts throughout the day. He actually looks forward to knowing things because of you! Especially if it’s about animals or different countries, he gets infested and may ask more about it, which leads to date nights on researching different topics with each other!

Patterns and cleanliness can be incredibly important for some people. While König will try his best to be as clean as he can, sometimes he forgets. He’s not the messiest giant. But he’s also not the cleanest perfectionist.

With that being said, König will do specific types of jobs in the home to help you: going as far as folding clothes, vacuuming, cleaning and disinfecting the bathroom, or doing the dishes. Whatever you feel uncomfortable doing, leave it up to him!

However, if the two of you are outside, König is more than protective of you. As much as he can understand you can handle yourself, he will not stand people making fun of you or simply staring at you. König will, and can approach people with a look of pure evil; he’s not gonna stand around and make you feel unsafe or uncomfortable without doing something about it.

König, like any husband, will be incredibly patient with you. If you are shopping, he never hurries you whenever you are looking at the shelves of candles, even if you choose the same one every time.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish:

He’s pretty nonchalant about the whole thing; he doesn’t really mind. Not to say that he will ignore your needs and issues, but he sees you as you. Your autism doesn’t make him think differently of you, you are still his spouse; he loves you regardless.

With the help of the internet, asking your family/or friends, and yourself, he will learn ways to comfort you and engage things with you without offending or triggering you. Whatever you need, he will get you in a few minutes: fizzy drinks, water, your comfort blanket and plushie, or comfort food.

Any activity you engage in, Soap tries to be with you as you are interested in it. Do you like reading books? He will collect as much as he can and take some time off to enjoy quiet time with you.

Love collecting miniature accessories to decorate your office? Soap will find some rare pieces and give you some.

Love popping bubble wrap? He will collect it as he gets packages in the mail, going as far as to buy you some online. At best, you'll have a few months worth.

Soap is big on encouraging your stimming in front of him and not masking. While he does understand that neurodivergent people mask to fit in society, he wants you to be you. He doesn’t want you to hide away, even if you think it’s ‘dumb’ or ‘bizarre’.

He hates how society has shaped people who are autistic as ‘insufferable’ or ‘emotionless’ because they are not. You are you. You just have extra steps that need to be seen and heard.

While Soap is incredibly flirty and loves joking around, he will try his best to be more straightforward and ask things directly rather than hint at things — he may make some mistakes but he will learn from them, trying his best to tell you things instead of whispering things into your ear.

Communication and body language can be hard. With Soap, he will try to find ways to communicate with you without his body language and sometimes not using his direct words.

With a certain time, he will learn when you’re stressed and immediately help you through anxiety/or a panic attack, sometimes distracting you with random questions and conversations, asking about your hobbies and the reason you like them.

Like the others, he doesn’t mind the stimming but rather enjoys seeing you get all happy and giddy about certain topics. As long as you’re not hurting yourself in any way, he won’t stop you.

Wherever you feel comfortable doing, whether that’s playing with fidget toys, humming, or tracing the lines on the palm of his hands, it won’t bother him at all.

Certain things can be triggering, which Soap will try his best to comfort.

That certain light that’s on? He’ll give you some headphones and his jacket, rubbing your back to help you calm down.

Don’t like sitting down? He’ll try to find you some space so you can stand by yourself, or get you a fidget cube to play with.

People staring at you? Soap will throw them a glare. If that doesn’t work, he may approach them ‘nicely’ about it.

Speaking of glaring, if anyone looks at you for too long, he’s not gonna be nice about it; throwing a bunch of glares before getting up from his seat, and asking the person what their deal is. This goes along the lines if someone approaches you, yet again, won’t go the nice line. He will get in their face and tell them to fuck off before something worse happens.

Being oversensitive isn’t a bad thing, nor is being under-responsiveness. It’s just the way your brain is hooked up and there’s nothing wrong with being you.

Sometimes crying over a movie character that died is a good thing — expressing your guilty pleasure over them, even if they were the villain.

Or maybe not noticing someone is being rude until you have a conversation with Johnny later that day, in which, he talks it out with you; asking if you want suggestions or need support.

Nevertheless, at the end of the day, Johnny is here to support you, even if you snap at him or decide to get so overwhelmed that you need a power nap together.

—

Masterlist || Please reblog or comment instead of liking, it helps a bunch!

© yandere-kokeshi 2023 — Do not copy, modify, edit, repost, or use my works for ASMR readings, tiktoks, or other content.

#the icons are not mine #they belong to their rightful owners #kokeshi!! #yandere blog #yandere x reader #yandere male #male yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere x gn reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere x gender neutral reader #yandere ghost #yandere ghost x reader #yandere simon 'ghost' riley #yandere simon riley #yandere soap #yandere johnny #Yandere soap x reader #yandere konig #yandere könig #yandere mw2 #yandere modern warfare #yandere cod #anonymous #könig mw2 #ghost mw2 #soap mw2 #x autistic reader #x gn reader

[centaurisolarflare]

König Headcannons – Part II:

If I wasn’t clear in my last set of sfw headcannons, I interpret König as having ADHD and Social Anxiety Disorder. I’m going to get into some diagnostic criteria and give some of my headcannons for how they appear for König specifically, and some blurbs throughout because I never learned how to stop talking. 

Social Anxiety Disorder (Social Phobia):

Anxiety surrounding social situations in which there is the potential for scrutinization. I think König’s anxiety would be particularly focused around interactions (conversations, meeting new people, etc) and being observed. 

- He isn’t comfortable with crowds, the dislike of being surrounded by people is intensified by the tinge of constant situational worry that comes with being a soldier. 

         -- If you take busy public transport, where there’s people packed into a bus or a subway car, he’ll sit bouncing his leg and playing with your hands. If you’re standing, he’ll be right behind you with one arm around your waist keeping you close against his chest; if it’s a particularly bad day he’ll hunch himself over to bury his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in the smell of you and trying to ignore everyone else. 

- Even in more regular social situations he’s got this habit of coming up behind you and resting his chin or cheek on your head. You’re used to it, often grabbing his hand and putting it on your waist, but the reactions from whoever you’re talking with range from befuddlement to discomfort, to outright terror at this massive dude just lingering directly behind you. 

- He does not like having his picture taken, especially when he isn’t aware that the picture taking is happening. He will get upset if anyone refuses to delete photos they took without his knowledge and permission. 

         -- He does, however, usually let you take polaroid with him – they develop soft enough that his worries about the photo being horrible are eased, plus he finds he’s fond of the way you’ve got them tucked around the house. Once you took a polaroid of him that he clearly didn’t like, he wasn’t really saying anything about it but you could tell, and you fucking lit it on fire – you went and got a zippo and burnt the fucking thing. He was oddly touched by your wiliness to commit a small act of arson purely for his comfort. 

- I also think he’d not particularly like eating in front of others – as a result of his anxiety he thinks people watch and judge him more than they do, and there’s too many opportunities for something to go wrong, so the threat of that embarrassment causes him to take most of his meals alone. 

         -- The knock at his door is soft and measured, three knocks just loud enough to catch his attention but not startle him. He knows, really, before even opening the door, that it’s you. He wants to see you, he really does, but the thought of it kicks his heart rate up and he feels the urge to fidget with his hands or the edge of his shirt as he takes the few steps needed to reach the door. You’re standing there, holding two full meal trays, flashing a bright smile up at him as you explain that you noticed he’d left the mess hall without eating. You ask to come in and he wordlessly steps to the side, hesitating just slightly as he contemplates if he should ask you to leave – he reasons with himself that he’s confident if he did ask you to go, you would, and that’s reassurance enough to have you stay – before shutting the door behind you and praying he won’t do anything humiliating. You chatter about how you weren’t entirely sure what to grab him, setting his tray on his desk, and sitting cross-legged on the floor with yours balanced across your knees. It twists something unfamiliar in his guts when he looks at his tray and realizes it’s a fairly accurate representation of what he would have gotten himself. He thanks you, the murmur of his voice barely audible. Then, the battered slice of cake catches his eye. The sweets they serve on base aren’t ever particularly good, but it’s chocolate and, fuck, he loves chocolate. Usually these slices, provided to the base kitchens already in a small plastic container, are hard to get and it’s even rarer for someone to make it out of the mess hall without being forced to give it up on some grounds of hoarding. The way there’s frosting smeared on the inside of the container suggests you underwent that trial. You must notice him looking at it for longer than anything else and you immediately grin, devious and triumphant, and regale him with the tale of how you managed to sneak the cake out, all because you offhandedly remembered he’d mentioned once about liking chocolate. You even apologize for the dubious quality of it, and he thinks he could cry. The story gives him time to settle across from you with his own tray largely free of intensive notice. By the time you’ve shifted to discussing a different topic with him – giving his responses a genuine attentive regard that makes it difficult for his anxiety to think you’re secretly judging him – he swears if you ripped out his heart right at that moment, you’d find your name written all over it. It just… becomes a Thing™ to meet up like this for meals, in his room or yours. You always seem to know when to talk, when to turn your head away from him, when to let him think you don’t notice his fretting, and when to either coax him into conversation or sit in easy silence. He panics less about it. He finds himself becoming more and more comfortable with you – fond of the peculiar way you habitually gesture with your fork, how you’re always willing to split things in half to share, how you inexplicably manage to scrounge up hot drinks during the cold months – and he's surprisingly glad to have your company. 

- An individual with social anxiety can be fearful of acting in a way that shows anxiety symptoms that will be seen negatively. 

         -- I think König would be worried most about being the reason people reject his company or take offense to his presence. He, at his core, wants people to like him, no matter how much he buries it. He has a hard time knowing whether or not you’re joking if you ever pretend to be disapproving or mad – his fear of driving you away, of you viewing him negatively, totally wipes away his ability to detect when you’re being sarcastic or playful. I think once you two are close he’d look to you in public settings for indications on when other people are kidding around or not – he trusts your evaluation of tone and social context far more than his own. 

         -- I also headcannon that one of the rare times he isn’t worried like this is when he’s really, really tired. When he’s exhausted, he’ll flop next to you, lean his weight on you, and laugh when you struggle to hold him up. This is when he’ll be the most blatantly transparent. You often feel like you should excuse yourself as soon as possible when this happens, but sometimes it’s on missions when he’s falling asleep while you keep watch and you can’t go anywhere; or at base when he’ll grab your wrist and ask you to stay, and how could you say no to him? All you can do is try to mitigate whatever comes out of his mouth, so he doesn’t reveal too much when he’s barely lucid. When he’s out of his mind tired is when he’ll look at you, starry-eyed and with no attempt to school his expressions into something less embarrassing, and whisper how beautiful and kind and perfect you are. He rarely ever remembers doing it – in his memories the comfort of your presence slots in seamlessly with the relief of collapsing on his bed for the first time in two days. 

                   ---- I think the same thing would happen if he’s ever on hella painkillers. He’s awake but definitely not all the way in his own brain so he’s just babbling about how wonderful you are. He’s just… narrating his thoughts. You’re the medic with him throughout the helicopter evac when he’s covered in more injuries than God should allow? You’re getting more of an honest confession of his feelings than the situation calls for. You’re the doctor moderating his recovery from a nasty concussion? Holy shit you’re going to hear about how you personally make the stars shine. Your whole medical team will know how he feels about you before he ever knowingly confesses. 

- Avoidance of anxiety inducing situations.

         -- I love him, but König has a frustrating habit of avoiding or retreating from you when his anxiety spikes. He needs a lot of reassurance that you don’t think of him the way his anxiety tells him you do. 

- I also think, as a comorbid symptom, he suffers from a bit of body dysmorphic disorder regarding his height/size and his accumulated scars – he perceives these things, respectively, as defects and flaws due to the way they’ve only ever drawn attention to him in situations where he’d rather everyone not even notice his existence. 

         -- His heart is going to explode. It’s going to explode and shred through his lungs. Is that medically possible? He feels like it is. It has to be. Because this is the first time you’ve seen him in a short sleeve shirt and you’ve got your hands on his arms and you’re currently looking at the jagged silvery scar that curls across his bicep and- and fuck, he needs to remember to breathe. He offers the stories behind each scar you ask about nearly entirely on autopilot. Can you feel his pulse? He’s scared of what you think, even as you hum and trace your fingertips carefully over each flaw on his skin. He’s marred, he knows it, and he makes a desperate attempt at casualness with some quiet self-deprecating joke about how the scars are ugly, but they couldn’t really make the rest of him worse than it already was. He misses the mark by a fucking mile, apparently, because your hands go tight around as much of his forearm as you can manage to wrap your fingers around and you're staring directly into his eyes with the intensity of the goddamned sun. He wishes he could throw himself into the sun right about now. But he’s listening, mostly, when you tell him that he’s handsome and well-built and nothing even has the possibility of changing that, not to you. That you like his scars, the proof that he’s endured, and you wouldn’t change a single thing about him. He’s listening, mostly, he swears, but he’s also super fucking concerned about how his heart has definitely just exploded and every other organ in its vicinity is splattered across the inside his ribcage. He can’t function like this, for god’s sake, can’t do much more than offer a jerky nod and let you resume your exploration of his arms, littered with grumbling comments about how you can’t believe he doesn’t think he’s good-looking, has he looked in a mirror recently, is he fucking blind.

                   ---- Bonus points if this somehow takes place before you’ve ever seen him without the sniper’s hood on; so he counters that you can’t possibly know if he isn’t hideous and you cut him off telling him he’s beautiful, and he’s like you’ve never even seen my face, and you tell him you know it’s pretty because it’s him and because it’s him it’s pretty, it has to be, regardless of anything, because he’s inherently pretty, and he just… has to blush about it for several business days.

ADHD

We all know about how our boy couldn’t be a sniper because he was 1.) too fucking big and, more to my point, 2.) couldn’t stay still. König has ADHD, argue with the wall. 

- The inattentive criteria I think he specifically meets are difficulty organizing tasks, avoiding activities that require sustained mental focus, often losing things necessary for tasks, easily distracted by extraneous stimuli and that his mind seems to be elsewhere even in the absence of any obvious distraction, and he tends to be forgetful regarding daily activities. 

         -- I think for work stuff he’s got a whole mess of systems to help keep himself on task and completing everything he’s supposed to be doing – sticky notes in improbable places, a seemingly nonsensical ways of going about starting things, using things like the amount of time it takes someone else in the barracks common room to reload their clips as a timer for how long he has to do something of his own, etc etc. He'll drag his desk three feet to the left just so he'll notice it in the morning and remember something. I think he very often writes things on his actual self with permanent marker, usually on his hand or forearm, if he’s really got to remember to do something. He might even have a more regular system for that, like a dot on his index finger means he has one important task to remember. 

         -- He fucking hates paperwork. It’s boring as hell and his brain never wants to do it. Very much “but I know who’s saying I have to get this done; it’s me, and I know I’m full of shit” vibes. Deadlines aren’t real until they’re tomorrow. He bribes himself with sweets or something he actually enjoys for every few pages he gets through – if you see him buying a pack of multitudinous candy from the vending machine, he’s likely got a stack of reports to do. 

         -- It seems like he’s got a staring problem, and most people are super intimidated by it, but he’s usually just spaced the fuck out. You’ve got this odd habit of crossing your eyes at him whenever you catch his gaze and he sort of refocuses; he doesn’t quite know why you do it, maybe just to communicate to him that you notice, but he finds it endearing. 

- Hyperactivity and impulsivity – fidgeting, uncomfortable with being still for extended periods of time, excessive talking, an inability to wait for his “turn” in conversations or blurts out answers before the question is fully asked, difficulty remaining seated, and general restlessness. 

         -- Fidgeting. Don’t… don’t ask me to explain this, and it might not be everyone’s cup of tea… but… I think maybe, maybe, he’s got a lip ring or tongue piercing that he fiddles with. It’s a secret from his superiors, obviously, because that’s definitely not military protocol compliant, but I think with how often he’s got his hood on it wouldn’t be awfully hard to hide. I’m fixated on imagining him with one silver lip ring or a tongue stud, someone please explain to me why. Anyhow, I’ve mentioned before that he will fidget with your hands, but I also think he’s prone to messing with whatever’s near – whether that be a pen or a weapon or some part of his gear or clothes; he has a habit, of dubious safeness, of spinning a butterfly knife around and has more than a few small scars from where he’s accidentally nicked himself. 

         -- He’s prone to squirming if he has to sit somewhere for a while, especially if there’s not much for him to pay attention to. He ends up sitting super crooked most of the time. 

         -- I think he uses running or otherwise working out to burn off some of his energy, especially when he’s particularly restless and when he’s on base. He hates feeling stuck in the small room he’s assigned to sleep in, and there’s something satisfying and grounding about the ache in his muscles and the way he has to concentrate on his breathing. 

         -- When he’s comfortable with you, which absolutely took an ungodly long time, he will go on tangents and simply not shut up until he starts worrying that he’s annoying you. If you ask him about whatever his recent fixation is, he’ll be over the moon about it. Good luck getting anyone else to believe he can talk that much though, the most they’ve heard him talk is over comms in the field and that’s nothing compared to what you’re privy to. He always apologizes when he interrupts you, no matter how often you tell him you understand and that it’s alright. 

Other prattling unrelated to me thinking way too much about psychology: 

- Loves that you make the effort to learn how to pronounce his name correctly. When he’d first told you his name you said it back to him, asking if you had it right. He usually would just tell people they had it fine to avoid the awkward back and forth of trying to get them to say it right, but something about the way you looked at him made him actually give you the slight correction you needed. Then – and this is one of his endless fond memories of you – you sort of looked off into the middle distance, staring unfocused at his chest, and said his name softly over and over again with entirely correct pronunciation before giving a short nod to yourself, looked back up at him and continuing the introduction. 

         -- He’s watched you correct other people on their pronunciations, casually but like it was absolutely necessary that everyone else say it properly, and it never fails to warm his heart. 

- Very rarely gets drunk but when he does, he’s the type of drunk to call you and tell you how amazing you are. Shit, he’ll tell anyone about you. Much like how he’s quietly honest when tired, but his drunk honest is louder and more social. Tells his teammates or friends how beautiful and clever you are, tells the bartended how much he loves you, tells the people next to him how smart and lovely you are, tells the closest table how you make him so happy. Someone tries to flirt with him, they tell him it doesn’t matter that he has a partner, and said person is now trapped in a lecture about exactly how much you matter to him, complete with photos. 

         -- If you end up coming to get him, nearly the entire place will say hello to you because he hasn’t shut up about you for the past hour. He lights up when he sees you, holding your arms and swaying slightly as he stares down at you with the biggest smile on his face, mumbling about “See? Didn’t I tell you? Didn’t I tell you how wonderful they are? See? Look. Look at you, so perfect. I love you; you know that? So much.” 

- Loves when you steal his clothes. Cannot get enough of how you look wearing his shirts. 

- I will accept criticism and differing opinions on nearly anything, but I am adamant that König has the sluttiest little waist. I think he was lanky before he started gaining serious muscle in the military, and now he’s a little more bulky but still has that litheness about him so his proportions just give him a slutty little waist. I don’t make the rules, he’s just built like that. 

- I think, to an extent, he knows how to sew. Nothing fancy, and his stitches aren’t even or perfect by any means, but he knows how to mend worn patches and tears well enough. Hates threading needles. But if he notices you’ve got a tear in your coat or something of the sort, you’ll just find it fixed the next day. Left exactly where it was but mended. Like a house brownie. The only way you’ll figure out it’s him is if you catch him doing it. 

- I know this lovely couple, both from a country outside where they currently live, and every time the husband travels back to their home country he’ll pack all his clothes and whatnot in a suitcase and then pack that suitcase within another suitcase. He does this so he can fill the extra suitcase with all the food and things his wife wants from their home country and take her back essentially a giant package of all the stuff she misses and can’t get in the country they live in. Long story short, if you’re not yet going home with him, König absolutely would bring you anything you wanted from Austria, even if he has to bring a whole extra bag. 

- I don’t think he’d carry any sort of photograph of you with him during work or on missions. If there’s a chance of anyone getting their hands on the photo, of learning that you’re important to him, of hurting you or using you to gain leverage over him, he will not have anything on his person to even indicates that you exist. I think he’d love the idea of it, the romantic sentiment of having a polaroid of you tucked in a pocket over his heart, but he just isn’t willing to take that chance. On leave though, at home, he treasures every little sign that you’re around and involved in his life – from photos to the notes left on the kitchen counter, the way you kick off your shoes by the door, the hickeys and scratches that make it look like he got mauled by a fucking tiger, how you always text and ask if he wants anything while you’re out, and even just the fact that he knows at the end of the day he gets to crawl into bed and fall asleep with you next to him. 

- Piggyback rides. You can jump up on this man whenever and he will go on about whatever he was doing as if nothing’s happening. 

- If he’s drinking anything hot – it might be in a coffee cup, but don’t be fooled – it’s hot chocolate. He makes the real kind at home, with real chocolate and cream on the stove. 

#könig #könig x reader #könig x gn!reader #gn!reader #konig headcannons #sfw könig headcannons #fluff #konig cod #könig cod x reader #könig cod x gn!reader #konig #konig x reader #konig x gn!reader #könig headcannons #cod #mw2 #cod mw2 #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #modern warefare 2 #anxiety headcannon #social anxiety headcannon #adhd headcanon #my writing #the inherent intimacy of sharing food #somebody make sol shut up about psychology #no beta we die like men

[aemondsvisenya]

Aemond x Reader who uses sign language

This idea is so random but I refuse to back down from it, hear me out…

Disclaimer: I’m not deaf, nor am I completely mute - I have been learning British Sign Language, however, as it’s part of Makaton which can be used by autistic people like myself. However, because this is Westeros, there’s no official sign language and so I haven’t described the signs in great detail

✨ Reader has no assigned pronouns or gender, and I haven’t specified why you use sign language - could be for a deaf reader, could be for someone who is mute… whatever the reason, you’re valid! ✨

When Aemond first meets you, he’s taken aback by how attractive you are, so he immediately goes to speak to you - only to be confused when you just smile bashfully at the sight of him but don’t say hello back

One of your friends has to explain to the Prince that you don’t speak (they quietly explain the reason so that no one else overheard), and that you use your hands to communicate. You’re a little afraid then that he’ll be disgusted by you or think that you’re deficient in some way, that you’re incomplete

Yeah, no, you couldn’t be more wrong about that

For one thing, Aemond is a scholar: he has studied many languages, though none more so than High Valyrian of course, and so he’s of course intrigued to learn that there’s a language that doesn’t involve speaking aloud, that people can use their hands to speak instead. While he thinks it must take longer, he also muses that it would be interesting and also helpful in certain situations to not have to use a voice to communicate

Secondly, Aemond is all too familiar himself with people thinking him deficient - people still shudder when they talk about his eye, even though he makes sure to wear the eyepatch all day and to never remove it unless he’s alone in his room. He knows what it is to be treated like he’s lesser, to have to work harder to overcome a disability - and he immediately sympathises with you

Aemond begins researching, seeing if there are any books on the subject of using hands to speak, but the information out there is extremely limited - so it makes sense, of course, that he go to you directly to learn first hand

At first you’re shy and a little scared because what would the One-Eyed Prince want with you? But to your surprise, he does his best to be reassuring, and he eventually gets across to you that he actually wants to learn some of the hand movements so that he can speak to you properly

As I said, Aemond is a dutiful pupil - he picks up on it faster than most others might

Some are relatively easy to remember, he finds; hello is a gentle wave, thank you is moving a hand down from the chin and bowing the head… he laughs softly when you grin and show him that “dragon” is miming blowing fire with your fingers acting as flames. Others aren’t as easy, admittedly, but he practices long after your sessions together in the privacy of his chambers, usually using a mirror to make sure his movements are clear and fluid

Before too long, it becomes second nature to him; he immediately starts signing to you when you pass each other, saying the words out loud to himself even as his hands move gracefully. He really does have such beautiful hands, you often find yourself thinking, with such long fingers… that thought definitely makes you blush

You’re honestly touched by his efforts because no one else has ever tried this hard just to speak to you, just to understand you, and it makes your heart grow in your chest that Aemond would do such a thing for you

What’s even more surprising is that soon enough, Aemond even begins doing some of the signs without even thinking when he’s talking to other people - only a couple of basic ones like please and thank you before he realises what’s he’s doing and stops, but it still happens from time to time

When Aemond asks to court you, he does it in perfect sign language but you have to ask him to repeat it because your eyes are blurry with joyful tears; he worries for a moment that he’s gotten the signs wrong but you hurriedly use your hands to tell him that no, he did it right, you’re just so happy and you want to see him ask again

Honestly he’s just super attentive and highly tuned to whatever it is that you’re saying, you always feel like you’re being heard when you’re with him because he takes everything you sign seriously

Woe befall anyone who dares mock or make cruel comments about you - Aemond doesn’t have time for such uneducated filth, and he wastes no time in making sure they never do such a thing again

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #ewan mitchell

[youcouldmakealife]

SOTM: Bruno Roy, various Roys (Morgan/Theo); contraband

For the prompt: Does Bruno Roy notice the tension between his poor rookie and Theo in the house?

Bruno would like to think he’s a pretty observant fellow. His teammates would certainly describe him that way. He’s been keeping an eye out for his younger teammates practically since the start of his career, and that takes paying attention, because fuck knows most of those guys would rather get their teeth knocked out than actually ask for help.

His wife would probably disagree, though. She’s the one who notices what’s up with the kids, always filling him in. He doesn’t know if that’s because she's more observant, or if it's because he spends close to half of his time on the road during the regular season, sees his kids less than his teammates, most of the time.

If that’s it there’s nothing he can do about it, and honestly, the last time he was around for an uninterrupted stretch, laid out with a groin injury, his kids were as happy as him when he got cleared to play, and Celine was the happiest of all. He is, he’ll admit, not very good at staying still, and there was a lot more of that than he’d like on bed rest. He’s best in motion.

But with three of his kids firmly in the teen years now, the problems are multiplying. Matt barely leaves his room unless food or school’s involved, and there’s a hell of a lot of reluctance on the school thing. Alexia’s reached the baffling stage of teenage girlhood Bruno won’t even pretend to understand, where everything that used to make her happy makes her mad instead, plus her friends are all dicks. Celine puts it a little more diplomatically, but they’re in agreement on that one.

And Theo, well — Bruno thought the hard part was over after Theo came out to them, and it mostly was — before that he and Celine spent an entire year debating whether they should tell him they knew or wait until he was ready to tell him, and they were getting precariously close to the first one when he sat them down.

But now Celine says something’s up between Morgan and Theo, and scoffs at him when he says he hadn’t noticed. He’s sure she’s not wrong, and he might worry if it was anyone else billeting with them, but Morgan? Morgan’s the opposite of a worry.

“Morgan’s a good kid,” Bruno says. “It’ll probably work itself out.”

“It hasn’t yet,” Celine says. “And it’s been awhile.”

“Can’t be that bad if I haven’t noticed it,” Bruno says, and that’s when he learns just what his wife thinks of his observational skills.

Frankly, he doesn't think she needed to laugh that loudly.

*

Bruno keeps an eye out after that. Not that he doesn’t keep an eye out, but, you know, he keeps a focused eye. Like the difference between casually watching a game and scouting the opponents. And of course, now that he’s paying close enough attention it’s pretty obvious that as usual, Celine is right.

‘The vibes are off’, as he’s pretty sure his kids would say. Also pretty sure that they’d call him embarrassing for saying it, like he doesn’t share a locker room with kids barely older than them. Houses a good number of them too, though thankfully it’s been one at a time. They’re all good kids — his teammates and his children — but they can be, well —

Matt slinks out of the kitchen, hunched over in a hoodie, arms wrapped around his torso. Bruno doesn’t need to be around 24/7 to recognize that trick. And unless Matt’s suddenly gained a significant amount of weight in one area and one area only, Bruno suspects he’s smuggling something. A bag of chips, Bruno believes. Family size too, it looks like.

“Matt,” Bruno says from his spot on the couch, and Matt guiltily pauses, one foot on the stairs. “No chips before dinner. Also, no eating in your room. Take your pick on which rule you’re breaking.”

“I don’t have chips,” Matt says.

“You pregnant?” Bruno asks, and Matt sighs and pulls a bag of chips from where he’s been hiding them under his hoodie. They keep the AC on high, but not that high: hoodie is an immediate tip-off smuggling’s happening. Well, that or that his kids have been in Texas too long.

“I could have been pregnant,” Matt mutters as he goes up the stairs, which is an argument so nonsensical there’s no way Bruno should be dignifying it by replying.

“No you could not have been pregnant!” Bruno says, because it’s an argument so nonsensical Bruno can’t help but reply, dignity or not.

The front door opens just in time for someone to overhear that, because of course it does. Morgan stands frozen in the doorway, wide-eyed, looking like he’s considering turning right around and walking away rather than deal with whatever he just walked into. Bruno doesn’t blame him at all. It’s kind of a wonder they keep letting him billet rookies, though Kai and Grigory did okay, he supposes, considering the level of Roy exposure they got. Morgan’s struggling. He’s too nice a kid for his own good, honestly.

“I was talking to Matt,” Bruno says.

“Um,” Morgan says, then smiles weakly without asking a single question, even though he must have a dozen of them. Too nice for his own good, like Bruno said.

“He was smuggling chips,” Bruno says.

“Under his hoodie?” Morgan asks, relaxing, before shutting the door behind himself and slipping off his shoes.

See? In this house hoodies are only used for smuggling. Even Morgan knows it, and he’s only lived here a few months.

“I didn’t know I lived with the KGB!” Matt yells from upstairs.

“That doesn’t exist anymore!” Theo calls from the kitchen — Bruno didn’t even know he was there, but say something wrong and he’ll appear from nowhere just to correct you, like a genie that provides fun facts instead of wishes. Also not so fun facts. Usually they’re not actually fun facts.

“I’m sure they haven’t stopped spying or anything,” Theo says as he comes into the hallway. “They just changed their name.”

“Thank you, Theo,” Bruno says.

“You’re welcome,” Theo says, then, “Um.”

“I’m going to,” Morgan says, then heads upstairs without actually finishing the sentence, taking the stairs two at a time.

Okay, if it’s been like this the whole time, maybe Celine was right to cackle.

“Anything you want to tell me about?” Bruno asks.

Theo’s eyes dart toward the stairs, and Bruno swears he can see him debating whether it’s a better idea to flee, and potentially look like he’s following Morgan upstairs, or stay where he is and have to answer Bruno’s questions.

Looks the exact same in his house as it does the locker room, and Bruno’s roster has been young enough, in recent years, to see that struggle plenty of times, guys in a snit with each other, stuck on the road. Worst case is when you’re pissed at someone and they’re right ahead of you getting onto the plane. No choice but to follow, and if you’re going anywhere cold, you’ve got to deal with them putting their shit up in the overhead bins.

“Got homework,” Theo says, and retreats back into the kitchen. Bruno had forgotten about option three. That was an oversight, especially when it’s Theo: he always seems to pick the option Bruno hadn’t considered.

“Did you want—“ Bruno says, cut off by Theo’s “No thanks, it’s due tomorrow, bye!”

Bruno sighs, eyeing the stairs himself, then decides to go sit back down. If intervention is needed, he needs to call in the cavalry first, because he’s all out of ammo.

He's got chips now, though. So at least he's got that going for him.

#fic snippet #SOTM #theo roy #morgan fraser

[koosbabygrl]

hunger ↠ kth

↠ genre: smut, angst, yandere ↠ summary: taehyung’s kept you captive for months and he’ll do anything to taste you ↠ pairing: yandere!taehyung x reader ↠ tw: yandere, non-con, obsession, non-sexual slapping, kidnapping, oral sex (female receiving), manipulation, starvation, blackmail, shame, guilt, forced orgasm (sorta), pussy smacking, fingering, name-calling, degradation, humiliation

this is dark yandere. please do not read if these things trigger you. i do not condone or support these acts. my writing is purely fictional and does not truly represent any member.  

please don’t copy, steal, plagiarize, re-post, or otherwise use without permission  

Your stomach was rumbling as you lay on the bed. You hadn’t eaten anything all day and you were practically starving. It was times like this you hated Taehyung the most. You hated how he made you rely on him. How you hated him but he made you need him.

Taehyung had lured you here, to his house, months ago and had never let you leave. You’d taken a job as a cleaner, absolutely desperate for money after COVID had closed down your place of work. This particular listing paid extremely well, almost twice the average wage of the other listings and you’d have been a fool not to apply.

Things that seem too good to be true usually are, and you learned this quickly when you showed up at Taehyung’s, your newly purchased cleaning supplies in tow. You probably should’ve been suspicious when you got the job with no prior cleaning experience and a very brief interview. But you didn’t think too much of it. The meagre balance of your bank account didn’t exactly allow you to be choosy about your employment.

So now here you were, waiting for him in this room that he hadn’t let you out of for months. Honestly, it wasn’t like him to leave you in here all day without food. He’d usually come in a few times a day, with meals, snacks, or other treats like books or games to keep you occupied while you were in here with nothing to do. He liked to talk to you, have conversations about his day. He’d attempt to touch you, but you had never let anything get past awkward cuddles, and you didn’t think you ever would.

The fact that he’d just completely ghosted you had you a little worried. What if he had abandoned you? Left you in this room to rot? It wasn’t as though you could do anything about it. You’d starve to death alone, without anybody you loved knowing where you were.

As your thoughts began to spin to darker and darker places, you heard footsteps approaching your door from the outside. Relief flooded you as you heard the door unlock and saw Taehyung’s tall figure step through. The undeniably handsome man had made it clear on multiple occasions that you were to stay away from the door when he was entering and the consequences for not doing so would be severe.

“Hey,” you said, sitting up straighter on the bed. You saw that he wasn’t carrying anything in his hands, which was odd. Surely he should have brought you something to eat now. Had he simply forgotten?

“Hi baby, how’re you holding up?” Taehyung asked, sweetly. Something was off about his tone, you knew him well enough by now to sense it right away. He was up to something and you didn’t like it.

“I’m alright,” you replied, carefully. Navigating Taehyung’s moods was another thing you’d had to learn to do. “I haven’t eaten since yesterday though. I’m pretty hungry,” You pouted, hoping to elicit some sympathy from your captor.

He smiled and you didn’t like it, “Yeah I bet.”

Taehyung sat down beside you and placed one of his large hands on your inner thigh. You were mostly used to things like this now. Taehyung liked to be affectionate and it always made you uncomfortable, but you’d been conditioned to hide your displeasure. Angering him never ended well.

Taehyung had never forced himself on you, not in that way, at least, and you hoped that if you allowed him these little things, putting his hand on your thigh, stroking your hair, cuddling you as you both went to sleep, that he never would. Maybe it was naive to believe that you could keep him satisfied like this but what other choice did you have?

“Baby, I’m hungry too,” he said to you.

“Well, okay...so we should eat? Did you order something?” You asked him, somewhat confused. 

“No, I’m not hungry for food,” he said, devilishly. “I’m hungry for this.”

“Huh?”

Taehyung moved his hand up your inner thigh, up your dress, brushing your skin with his delicate fingers, all the way up until he got to your clothed cunt.

“This. I want - I need to taste you.”

His words made your blood run cold. You tried to push his hand off of your centre but he was much too strong for you, and all you succeeded in was irritating him. He grabbed you by the back of the neck with his other hand and whispered menacingly, “Don’t. Fight. Me.”

Your eyes filled with tears and you shook your head and squeezed your legs together as best you could, “No, please. Please, I don’t want, I can’t…” you trailed off, sobs replacing your desperate pleas. It had been so many months of living in fear of this and as much as you had tried to prepare yourself for the inevitability of it, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to.

“Baby...I just want to eat your pussy, okay? That’s all,” Taehyung said, soothingly, trying to calm you down, “I promise, you’ll like it. I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

You kept on shaking your head no, barely able to speak at this point. Everything he was saying was just making it worse, you thought you were going to have a panic attack. You couldn’t do this. The thought of it disgusted you and it only made you sob harder.

Suddenly, Taehyung got up off the bed and stood in front of you. His looming figure was as intimidating as he meant it to be and you shriveled into yourself even more than you already were.

“I’m not that bad, am I?” Taehyung asked, gruffly, looking down at you. You couldn’t believe he’d ask you such an insane question. He was holding you captive, for fuck’s sake. 

“You’re worse,” you spat back, venomously. 

You paid for your second of bravery. Taehyung narrowed his eyes at you and smacked you hard across the face. It was strong enough to knock you over on the bed. When you tried to get up, he smacked your other chee. He then turned around and began walking to the door.

“Taehyung, wait, please! I’m sorry,” you called out, desperately. “Please...I need food. Is there any food?” You hated that you had to ask him, and that you had to apologize to him even though you hadn’t done anything wrong. But you were so damn hungry you couldn’t help it. “Please.”

“You’ll eat once I have,” Taehyung said, turning around to face you. The anger of a few seconds ago had dissipated and was now replaced with a diabolical smile. “It’s up to you.” And with that he left, leaving you hungry and alone.

***

The next few days passed by agonizingly slow. Taehyung visited you once each day, to bring you a single slice of bread each time and to ask you if you’d reconsidered his offer. You’d said you hadn’t, pathetically attempting to keep some semblance of dignity, even though you both knew you’d eventually cave. You had to.

And you did. Four days later, with only water and barely any food in your system, you cracked. You were tired, and delirious, and all you could think of was how you needed sustenance and that you were prepared to do anything to get it.

Taehyung, once again, showed up to your room with that damn slice of white bread and you broke. You got down on your knees in front of him and began to cry.

“Taehyung, I’m sorry. Please, do whatever you want with me. Just...please feed me. I’m so sorry.” You looked up at him, expecting a smile but all you saw was a look of mock confusion on his face. 

“Do what I want to you?” He asked, his brow furrowed, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I just meant...like...you can um, do stuff to me,” you said, somewhat awkwardly.

“Do what?” He pressed. The sadistic bastard was having fun with this.

Swallowing the scrap of pride you had left, you answered him, “You can eat me out.”

Silence hung heavily in the air for a second, and you wondered how much more of this you were going to have to take.

“Oh. Is that something you want?” Taehyung asked, still playing dumb.

“I...yes?” You said, carefully.

“Are you sure? I wanna make sure you want it. That you’re consenting. I’m not some rapist or something. I’d never force you to do anything. Tell me you want it.”

His words were like another slap in the face. It was one thing for him to force you to allow him to do this, it was quite another for him to force you to pretend that you wanted him to do this. It was cruel and it was humiliating, the ultimate power play. To force your consent and pretend that he hadn’t. There was a small part of you still that wanted to fight, to tell him to fuck off and leave you alone, but the thought of another day without a proper meal was too much to bear.

“Yes. I want it,” you said, thoroughly defeated, and both of you knew it.

“You want what?” Taehyung prompted, his eyebrows raised. 

“I want you to eat my pussy, please.”

“How bad?”

He wasn’t going to let this go easily and you hated him for it, “So badly, Tae. I need it.”

Taehyung smirked, “Of course, baby. Get on the bed.”

You got up on your shaky legs, weak from days of near starvation, making your way over to the bed and laying down on your back. You reached up the skirt of your dress and took off your panties, hoping to get this over with as quickly as possible, putting your knees up and spreading your legs for him.

Taehyung got on the bed and knelt between your legs, getting to look at your pussy up close for the first time. He didn’t bother to ease you into this, like you thought he might. He didn’t kiss you up your inner thigh before making his way to your core. No, Taehyung dove right in, giving a long lick to your slit.

The feeling made you recoil, but you said nothing, you didn’t even make a sound. You were going to bear this, as awful as it was.

Taehyung then kissed your clit, tenderly, like one would do to a lover, before he wrapped his arms around your thighs, truly locking you in place. He began licking and sucking on your nub, his skilled lips and tongue working together. He wanted you to enjoy this. Nothing would make him happier than getting to taste you whilst humiliating you in the process.

You hated this. Him, yourself, everything. You hated his mouth between your legs, but you especially hated the tiny jolts of pleasure that indicated how your body was betraying you. You tried to resist against the way you could feel yourself responding to him. You could feel yourself becoming wet as he kept on working. He slid his tongue down to dip into your cunt while thumbing your clit and to your shame, you felt yourself clench around him.

Taehyung snickered against your pussy. He raised his head up to make eye contact and you looked down at him, his mouth coated with a mixture of his own saliva as well as your arousal. “Are you enjoying this?”

“No,” you replied pathetically, and Taehyung gave your cunt a hard smack, making you let out a tiny shriek.

“Don’t you fucking lie to me, you little slut,” he said, although he sounded more amused than angry. He took two fingers and pushed them into your pussy, pumping them a few times. “My fingers are sliding in and out of your cunt so easily,” he continued. “You’re soaking wet.”

You bit your lip, trying to stop the sounds of pleasure threatening to escape you. Seeing this, Taehyung curled his fingers, finding your sweet spot with such such ease that you might’ve thought he’d done this with you before. You let out a moan despite yourself and that of course encouraged Taehyung further. He latched his lips around your clit while his lithe fingers worked you from the inside. 

There was no holding back now, you couldn’t stop the sounds that were coming out of your mouth. His hunger for you felt palpable. His lips and tongue were moving even faster now, getting sloppier, as though he really was a man starved. Your whines and whimpers were fueling him. Your hips were bucking in turn, you’d completely forgotten about how much you hated him. He used a forearm to hold you down so he could properly continue his assault on your pussy. The undeniable feeling of your orgasm was rushing up on you, and you didn’t think you could hold back now.

Taehyung must’ve realised how close you were because he stopped abruptly, moving his head up, although his two fingers were still lodged deep in you. He scissored them, making you squeak a little, before he said, “Are you going to cum on my tongue, you fucking whore?”

You nodded, and Taehyung attached himself to your clit again, growling against it. It didn’t take long for you to become undone. “Oh, god, yes, Tae,” you mewled, unable to help it. You let go, allowing your orgasm to wrack your body, cumming all over Taehyung’s mouth. He licked it all up, unable to get enough of you.

Your post-orgasm haze had you feeling more relaxed than you had in days, despite what you’d just gone through. You blinked sleepily at Taehyung. The thought of eating something and going to bed was a pleasant one.

“Tae, can I have something to eat now?”

Taehyung looked at you malevolently as he began to unbutton his pants. “Of course baby, I think you’ve finally earned a good meal.”

#bts smut #taehyung smut #taehyung x reader #taehyung oneshot #kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x you #yandere bts #yandere taehyung #taehyung fanfic #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts fic #bts x reader #taehyung angst #bts angst #bts fanfiction #bts au #taehyung au #bts imagines

[ghcstao3]

obligatory ghostsoap medieval au with childhood friends to enemies-ish to lovers because i finally got around to watching nimona

young prince soap with an affinity for going out into the kingdom unsupervised and socializing with commoners, as much as it’s discouraged by his family. but it’s how he meets ghost.

ghost, a boy just as young and bright, who struggles to make ends meet for a family that only consists now of his mother and baby brother. soap tries to help in the ways he can, but it’s difficult when he’s only a child himself.

so they come up with a solution—soap finds ghost work at the castle so he can not only provide for his family, but he can spend time with soap, too.

it’s not until after ghost becomes a servant for the royal family does soap learn ghost is a dragon shifter.

it’s an accident, when he finds out—but thankfully soap isn’t scared. not like others, no. to him, it’s the best thing ever. but they understand it has to be kept a secret.

especially between late-night rides, soap clutching onto ghost’s spines as wind rushes through his hair, grinning ear to ear the entire time.

they’re careful, though.

until the servant that usually tends to soap’s parents falls ill and simple tasks fall to ghost—he’s been trusted with the youngest son, he can be trusted with a few things to do with the king and queen.

but then it’s ghost who finds them both dead, one morning. there isn’t any hint to who it could have been, but there’s only one assumption that could be made when ghost is found alone, panicking—and when several swords are pointed his way and he shifts as a fear response. so ghost is chased out.

he’s exiled. never to see soap again—not that it seems to matter. the look in the young prince’s eyes when they see each other in passing for one last time tells ghost enough about what soap thinks about him now.

but ghost swears to come back. he’ll find out who really killed the king and queen, get his name cleared, and maybe, maybe get soap back.

#too lazy to read this over ignore mistakes <3 #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #soap mw2 #ghost x soap #ghoap #soapghost #ghostsoap #alternate universe