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huramuna · 4 months

Text

growing on you - oneshot.

modern aemond x (ex) girlfriend reader

content: smut (specifics under the cut), afab reader, angst, unhealthy coping mechanisms, descriptions of depression and its effect on the body, probably an unhealthy relationship, aemond being an idiot, probably ooc aemond, reader not described, no use of y/n, targtowers seek therapy: the story, fluff at the end bc hehe

work is 18+, minors do not interact or you shall be smited.

word count: 7.4k (oops)

a/n: i've had this one in the drafts for a while. tweaked to be a fun 'lil angsty end of year holiday fic. as is my motto: fuck it we ball. a/n 2: i pivoted from a third person pov fic to a second person pov fic 3/4 through writing this using the find and replace tool, so if there are grammar errors, i apologize! also my first time doing second person pov, weehee.

monsters - all time low ft. blackbear • why do i - set it off ft. hatsune miku

warnings: p in v, creampie, cockwarming, slightly tipsy sex

Everything in your life was enveloped by him. your clothes smelled like him, small strands of his hair were woven into every nook and cranny of your apartment together, his fitness regime protein powder and ketogenic supplements were littered in your kitchen cabinets.

You couldn’t get rid of him, not even if you tried. Aemond was all you'd ever known— you have known one another since the age of seven, and have been in a relationship since fourteen. You were both now twenty-six. Twelve years you’ve been together romantically (longer, even, but you were both too stubborn to admit it) and nineteen years you’ve been in each other's lives in some capacity or another.

You’ve been involved together longer than you’ve not known each other. You hardly knew who you were without Aemond— a thought that scared you deeply.

It’s been two weeks since he moved out, only temporarily he’d said. He needed space. He would still pay his share of the rent and you didn’t need to worry about that.

But what about everything else? What about him warming you at night? Comforting you when you had nightmares? What about his items in the fridge, surely you’d spoil if he didn’t use them soon. What about Vhagar? Their— no, his geriatric cat that he took with him to God knows where— she must be terrified, surely.

Was he giving Vhagar her medicine before bed? Of course he was— he was the more responsible one anyway.

You paced back and forth until the soles of your feet ached and then some. Knowing Aemond for so long, you had intimate knowledge on everything about him, you were woven into each other's DNA like vines on a trellis, growing and expanding until you swallowed all of the other plants whole.

That is what happened, wasn’t it? You grew too large, too comfortable and became stagnant. You weren't unaware of his rising workload at his firm, but he had always been a workaholic— throughout their teenage years, through college and grad school. It never slowed him down so you didn’t understand the change in behavior.

Aemond was closed off. He always was a bit emotionally stunted due to his upbringing or lack thereof from his father and everything that happened surrounding his eye, but he had a soft side for you, always for you. You could retrace every part of him perfectly from memory, always could make him laugh, could comfort him when he recused himself, and the rare times he did cry, you were there.

But the last few months there was a shift— a change in him. Where he had been hard to open before, like a rusty hinge just requiring some oil, he was now padlocked, ironclad and impenetrable. Attempts to talk were shrugged off, ignored or diverted.

“Please, just talk to me, Aemond,” you said one night as you sat on the couch. You were watching your collective favorite show and he wasn’t even commenting on it like he usually did, he was silent and deadpanned. “I don’t understand what’s wrong if you don’t talk about it.”

“There's nothing wrong, therefore, nothing to talk about. I’m just tired from work,” he responded gruffly. “Stop whining.”

His tone was clipped and harsh, sending a wave of hurt trickling through your body. you were overly emotional, where he was under emotional— usually, you balanced each other out and struck a good middle ground, but in times like these, during fights, things would get explosive.

The tears started right away, your little sniffling cries stifled by a hand over your mouth. You turned away, wrapping yourself in the blanket.

“Seriously?” he growled, “I didn’t even say anything and you’re fucking crying again.”

“I d-don’t appreciate your tone, Aemond— you’re being mean,” you sniffed, wiping away tears that were soon just replaced by new ones. “Please, don’t be mean to me.” you were always soft hearted, and it was one of the things Aemond loved about you— or he had loved at one point.

“I’m not being mean,” he pinched his brow, “you’re overreacting and I do not have the capacity to deal with your antics anymore.”

Of course, your mind hit the panic button. ‘Anymore’ meaning that he didn’t want to deal with you at all, ever. The tears increased and you recused yourself further into a ball.

“Fucking hell.” he cursed, getting up from the couch and stomping outside to the balcony, lighting up a cigarette. He was out there for about an hour— you had cried yourself to sleep.

It was many situations like that for weeks that finally just… broke him.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said one day, slamming his keys down on the kitchen table, “I seriously cannot deal with your childish shit anymore— I’m working my ass off at the firm, actually bringing in money and I still have to come home and tend to you. you’re twenty-six, grow up and stop crying at every little thing. It’s fucking infuriating.”

“You know I can’t control that part of me!” you screamed back, your temper rising immediately to match his. The words flowing out of your mouth didn’t feel like yours, but some sort of defensive mechanism. “You can’t do this anymore? You’re not doing anything Aemond, except pushing me away. God, you haven’t even touched me in weeks.”

“Oh, so this is about sex?” he countered, getting closer to you, nostrils flaring. “You’re mad because I won’t fuck you? Are you that desperate?”

That one stung, to be sure. Aemond had been your first and only— you only ever knew him, only ever had him. “No, not just sex,” you murmured, “you haven’t even… just touched me normally. No hugs, no little caresses, nothing— it's as if I’m an aversion to you.”

He backed up from you, “Maybe we’re just too close,” he admitted, “We’ve been together too long. It's not fun anymore, it’s not new— it’s the same old, same old, going through the motions for release, not because I actually like it.”

“I don’t understand.” you said, your voice sounding disconnected from your body. The tips of your fingers felt numb, the numbness spreading through your body, your heart pounding in your chest as if it wanted to escape.

“I need space. I need to think about this.”

“This?”

“Us. I need to think about us and if this is something I really want,” he paused, “You’re… too much and not enough right now.”

“Wh— Aemond, please,” you whispered, your voice broken, “What can I do? I’ll… I’ll change, I won’t cry or whine anymore— please.”

He stared at you, his prosthetic eye unmoving while his remaining one bored into you, “I will think about it.”

“What… does this mean?”

“We are taking a break, alright? I’ll have my essentials out and I’m going to stay with Aegon.”

“Please— don’t go. I need you.”

That was the end of that conversation. That was the last time you spoke, two weeks ago. You expected him to text you at some point, to check in on you, to maybe try to talk things out.

Nothing. There's been nothing. Radio silence.

You felt isolated— you had no family, as your parents were estranged from you. you couldn’t go to Aemond’s family, as close as you were to them all, it just simply wasn’t an option.

You didn’t have friends. All you knew was Aemond.

It was early in the evening and you were in a deep pit of self-loathing. You decided to text him.

You swallowed thickly— the green meant he either turned off his phone or blocked you. You hoped that it wasn’t the latter.

The next few weeks were a blur. You felt like you were barely living, merely going through the motions to stay alive— not that you really were.

You woke up, went to work, came home, scrounged up food and then went to sleep. Rinse and repeat.

Weeks become months of your monotony, and no word from Aemond. He still had half of his stuff left in the apartment, you felt like you could barely breathe. At every turn there was something to remind you of him.

You’d lived in this apartment together for four years, the evidence of your relationship etched into the very walls. It was like the space was closing in on you and you couldn’t catch your breath, barely keeping your head above water.

You had to move out— you had to get away.

You managed to find a place, a cheap studio above a coffee shop downtown. The landlord was an old lady who was sympathetic to your situation and agreed to let you take the space quickly.

There was still the matter of your and Aemond’s current apartment— or, rather, it was just Aemond’s now.

Saving yourself the embarrassment of seeing if you were still blocked, you called Aegon. He was a better messenger than none.

“Hey, Egg,” you said, sitting on the couch. you bounced your knee up and down, biting at the skin of your lip. You and Aegon were amicable, not necessarily as close as you and Aemond, but you grew up together. Aegon ran in different social circles than you and you were somewhat polar opposites so you never really stuck— you did have your phases of friendship, though– which pissed Aemond off to no end. “Um, I don’t know if this is the right way to go about things but, do you mind relaying a message to Aemond for me?”

“Yeah, ‘spose I could. What’s up?” Aegon replied, his tone nonchalant like usual.

“I’m moving out of the apartment into my own place, so I guess he can go back. I’ll have all my stuff out by tomorrow.”

“Fuckin’ finally,” Aegon said, “He’s been driving me up the wall with his tidy, feng shui bullshit. He rearranged my whole place like five times and has taken up all the space in my cabinets with that nasty no-carb shit,” he paused for a moment, “I… didn’t mean that in a bad way to you, ‘course. I’m sorry it had to come to this. He’s a fucking idiot.”

That made you laugh, genuinely. Your first laugh in months. “Yeah– he… tends to do that. He left half of his stuff here, it feels like I’m living in the twilight zone. I just… gotta get away, you know?”

“Hey, I get that– you don’t have to explain yourself to me. He’s a dickhead and doesn’t understand how good he has it. If you want, I can bring my truck over tomorrow and help you move stuff.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Egg.”

“I want to– please.”

Your brow furrowed– Aegon usually wasn’t so persistent on anything unless it involved drinking or drugs. But, you hadn’t had real human contact in eons besides at work so… maybe it could be good.

“Okay, see you tomorrow. Thank you, really.”

–

It was rainy the next day– nasty and wet, droplets pouring down like tears. It felt somewhat familiar.

But, Aegon showed up like he promised, rolling up in his old, fading yellow pick-up truck. His hair was much shorter than you remembered and he looked actually well kept– Aemond must’ve been whipping him into shape.

He waved and ran through the rain, standing under the eave, “So– it’s raining.”

You snorted, “I think I can see that,” you teased with a tiny smile, “Not sure when it’ll let up.”

“I brought uh…” he paused for a moment to think, stretching out his arms in a square shape, “Y’know?”

“A tarp?”

“Yup– that,” he gave a lopsided grin, inviting himself in through the open door, “you aren’t going to kick me out if I don’t take off my shoes, right?”

You glanced down at his boots– they were a bit muddy and definitely wet. Aemond wouldn’t have let him step two feet through the threshold without taking them off. But– you weren't Aemond. “No, keep them on if you want. It’s not my problem if you track dirt through the place anyway.”

He nodded, taking his phone out of his pocket for a moment and shooting a quick message to someone. “Sorry I haven’t been around, it’s just… he’s my brother. It would be kind of… I dunno, crossing some sort of unsaid boundary if I visited his… girlfriend?”

“Ex-girlfriend. I guess,” you corrected softly– but you didn’t really know yourself what it was. He wouldn’t talk to you, “It’s fine. I didn’t expect anyone to really reach out anyway, because of that… unsaid boundary thing.”

“We should’ve. you’re a part of our family with or without Aemond. Me, Helaena and Daeron have a whole group chat about it. Even mom asked where you’ve been,” he scratched the back of his head absentmindedly as he sent out another text, “Someone should’ve checked up sooner.”

“You’re acting like I’m some sort of neglected puppy, Aegon,” you turned to him, “... do I really look so terrible?”

Aegon glanced up at you, his mouth formed in a hard line. He cracked his knuckles, shrugging his shoulders. “I won’t lie to you. You look half dead.”

You blinked. Hard. Moving towards a mirror in the hall, you looked at yourself. Dark circles under sunken eyes, your skin was a pale pallor and your hair needed a trim desperately, your split ends curled and fettered. You were gaunt, as well– having lost a bit of weight over the months. “Jesus,” you muttered. Glancing over at Aegon, he was texting again. “Sending an update to the group chat, I guess? ‘Good news, she’s still alive, barely’?”

He snorted, “Yeah– something like that,” finally, he locked his phone and slipped it in his pocket. “I made sure to text Aemond, too.”

Your mouth felt dry at the mention. “Why?”

“He asked.”

“Asked?”

“He asked me to… make sure you were okay.”

Goosebumps prickled at your skin, the ever familiar feeling of nausea and despair swirling in the pit of your stomach. Nibbling at your lip more, you turned away, feeling a bit too exposed. “And what’d you say?”

“I said you were alive but you are not okay.”

Your lips pursed into a line as you tasted a bit of copper in your mouth from chewing on your lip. “I guess that’s right,” you muttered, “Why would he ask?”

“Aemond is… complicated. you know that better than anyone. I don’t know what kind of bug he has up his ass these last few months but… even through all of this, he still cares.”

“Like hell he does,” you snapped, feeling the sting of tears, “If he did, he would’ve given us a chance to talk it out, to… to try, maybe even go to therapy, I don’t fucking know– he would’ve reached out– anyone should’ve reached out,” your hand went to your hair, right at your hairline at your scalp, picking at the hairs there– another self-destructive habit you’ve picked up in your months of isolation, “I’m so fucking alone, Aegon. He knows… you all know I have absolutely no one else. I’ve been going through this on my own. I have no friends, no family– no brother to go live with when I need space, no family group chat. I don’t have shit, Aegon. All I’ve ever known in my life is him and you and Helaena and Daeron and mom. Why… why does it feel like I was cast off the island without even… a tribal council or something?” you sniffed, the tears coming in full force now.

Aegon was silent, coming up behind you. “I’m… sorry,” he murmured, putting his hands on your shoulders, as frail and skeletal as you were, “We should’ve been better. We… will be better.” he turned you around and pulled you into his chest, enveloping you in his arms. “We thought you would’ve been… fine without him. He made it seem like that– that you were strong enough. I only figured it out yesterday when he was up my ass about texting him as soon as I saw you. He needed to know if you were feeding yourself, if you were keeping up with your medication, if you still had nightmares. A fuckin’... laundry list of questions– I told him to stick his questions up where the sun don’t shine and to see for himself,” he took a breath, “He settled on one question– if you were okay.”

“I think he got his fucking answer, then,” you whispered, “I am not okay. I haven’t been okay in months. I… I need help.”

“I know,” Aegon shifted you slightly to look at your face, “We’ll help you– I promise, you won’t be alone anymore. Look, I’ll even add you to the group chat, okay? I’ll rename it to ‘Aemond Sucks’, how does that sound?”

You cracked a tiny smile, sniffling. “Yeah… I’d like that.”

–

You ended up moving your belongings to your new place the same day, effectively ridding yourself of the constant shadow of Aemond’s memory.

Aegon even took you to Michael’s and HomeGoods to get stuff for your little studio, so you could really make it yours. It was a bit intimidating at first– you weren't used to being able to decorate things the way you wanted, as Aemond always opted to keep things simple and minimalistic.

You, admittedly, went all out. Your new studio looked like a Pinterest board titled ‘cottagecore’. You were incredibly happy with it all, practically jumping up and down at it.

“It looks so good! I love these little mushroom chairs you picked out, Egg,” you hummed, patting some plush felted stools in the shape of mushrooms, which you put near the window. “I bet Helaena would love it.”

“Let’s take some pictures for the group chat, Hel will literally be all over this. you two always love that cottagecore, fairycore, fantasy… shit.” he grinned, stooping down to take some very out of perspective pictures of the mushroom chairs, making them look fifty feet tall.

You settled into your new place quickly, having Helaena, Aegon and Daeron over quite often for drinks and movies. Your health steadily improved until you were mostly back to normal physically– there would be a lot of scars internally, however that would take longer to heal, if you ever would. You had developed a trust issue complex since Aemond’s unceremonious exit from your life and hadn’t gone on any dates, you didn’t know when or if you would ever be ready. They did you the courtesy of not mentioning Aemond, until Daeron said something odd.

It was about four months after you moved in, and almost a full year since you’d last seen Aemond. You were all a few mixed drinks in, Aegon had made them and you were heavy on the alcohol, light on the ‘mix’, and you were all kicked back on the couch, with Aegon laying on the mushroom chairs stacked next to each other, lazed back like a cat.

“Mom says she wants you over for Christmas dinner,” Daeron said, taking a sip of his drink, “She figured it’d be fine with Aemond going off with his new…” he blinked, catching himself.

Helaena nudged Daeron in the ribs as a warning, staring at their friend warily.

“... his new? His new what?” you asked, your voice so quiet that it must’ve been like a squeak.

“... new girlfriend.” he finished.

You were silent for a while before sighing. “I figured it would happen eventually. I can only hope that it… wasn’t too soon after we broke up– or whatever… happened.”

“We all told him it was fucked up that he just left and ghosted you, lovey. Even mom got on his ass about it, and he is her favorite child who usually can do no wrong.” Helaena put her drink down, wrapping her arm around you. “You should come to Christmas dinner, everyone would be super happy to see you! And Aemond won’t be there, so even more reason to come. Please.” she whimpered, using her best puppy-dog face.

You mulled it over in your mind for a few moments. You couldn’t think of anything more painful than being alone during the holidays, so you nodded.

–

It was snowing on Christmas day, the flurries coming down and melting against your skin as you waited for Aegon to pick you up. You were wearing a red checkered tapestry dress with a flannel jacket, a white fluffed scarf wrapped around your neck and lower face. As soon as you saw the familiar color of Aegon’s truck, you practically booked it into the passenger seat.

“Merry Christmas, you look fantastic,” Aegon mused, ever the charmer. “I’ve got the heater on full blast, I promise– but y’know my old boy’s puttering these days. We’ll need to get some speed for it to really warm up.”

“Mmm,” you murmured, your teeth chattering, “S’cold.”

He reached back and grabbed a well-used blanket, draping it over your legs. “Better?”

“... yeah– but,” you blinked, raising a brow. “What do you have this in the truck for?”

Aegon laughed as he began the drive to his family’s estate. “I think you know.”

“Please don’t tell me you’ve fucked someone on this blanket, Aegon.”

“Someones– not just someone. But I keep it clean, no worries!”

The drive to the Targaryen estate was about an hour and a half from town, nestled deep into an expansive forest where there weren’t any other homes in at least five miles. It was a gorgeous, Victorian style mansion and according to Daeron, was most certainly haunted. You had been here numerous times, of course, but it’d been a while. As you pulled up in the driveway, you saw Alicent standing outside the door dressed in a gorgeous red and green festive dress, hair curled to perfection. Nothing less was expected of Alicent, though.

“Oh, my darling,” Alicent cooed, holding her arms out to caress who she thought of as her fifth child. “It’s been too long, I’ve missed you.”

Your heart warmed under Alicent’s caress, someone who had become more of a mother figure to you than your actual mother. You sniffed, pressing your forehead into Alicent’s shoulder. “Missed you too, mom.”

“Come on, you both can cry inside in the nice toasty house, yeah? I’m freezing my balls off here, mom.”

Alicent huffed, ushering both of you inside. “Don’t be vulgar, son– it’s Christmas.”

Helaena and Daeron were already there, as well as Otto, who gave you a stiff nod as a greeting, as was his usual means of communication.

You settled into the kitchen, Alicent pouring everyone apple cider and dishing out at least six types of holiday themed cookies. About an hour after arriving, there was a knock on the door.

“Oh, that must be Rhaenyra and Laena. Can you answer the door, darling? I need to take the roast out of the oven. I’m sure they would be happy to see you!”

“Mhm!” you mused through bites of cookies. You loved Rhaenyra and Laena, who were technically married with husbands, as was Alicent, but the three of them were in a secret, not so secret to anyone with eyes, polyamorous relationship. It always amused all of their kids when they tried to hide it.

You turned the doorknob, fully expecting to see Rhaenyra and Laena. It was not.

Aemond.

“Fuck.” you blurted out, eyes wide. It had been the better part of a year since you had last seen him. His hair was longer now, gathered into a low bun at the nape of his neck, his cheeks a bit more gaunt. He still wore his earrings and his rings– including the one you had given him almost a decade ago.

“Shit.” he responded, seemingly caught equally off guard by seeing you again. The pupil of his non-prosthetic eye dilated until the iris was almost consumed in black, before he flexed his hand and reeled himself in.

You couldn’t help but notice he was alone– no ‘new girlfriend’ as Daeron had put it. “Aemond,” you breathed, feeling like you were outside of your own body, your head filled with fluff and static. “Merry… Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.” he responded gruffly, “Can I come in?”

“Oh– yeah, duh,” you chastised yourself, stepping aside to let him in. “Sorry.”

“Mm.” he grunted in his usual manner. That seemed to be a habit he hadn’t dropped.

You all but retreated to the kitchen, the expression on your face telling everything. Aegon, Daeron, and Helaena gathered around you.

“I didn’t invite him, I swear.” Aegon whispered.

“Well, neither did I!” Daeron professed.

“Don’t look at me, I didn’t invite him. He left me on read three weeks ago when I sent him a picture of a bug on my windowsill.” Helaena sniffed.

A new voice chimed in. “I invited him,” Alicent spoke, breaking up the little posse, “I told him to come over or he would be grounded for three months.”

All four of you stared at Alicent, deadpanned.

“Mom– he’s… almost twenty-seven. you can’t ground him,” Daeron said, confused. “And moreover, why? Wasn’t he busy?”

“Well, first off, he is my son, so I wanted to see him for Christmas. Two, I believe we have someone here who has some unresolved issues with him.” Alicent responded, staring right at you pointedly.

“... I don’t know… I… I don’t know if I can talk to him. It’s been too long… I feel like I was just getting over all of this.”

“Well, do I have any say in this?” Aemond barged into the circle, his hands in his pockets.

You suddenly felt overwhelmed, the familiar bubbling of everything being too much rising in your stomach. You were teleported back to months ago when you were barely alive, trapped in your own mind. “I… I need… I need a minute.” you muttered, your voice sounding distorted as you made your way to the bathroom, turning on the faucet. Chest heaving, you were already crying, the waterworks starting somewhere between the hallway and the sink.

“You’re always fucking crying, I can’t take it anymore.” Aemond’s voice from months and months ago echoed in your head, causing the tears to flow more. You bit against your lip, tasting blood right away as you willed yourself to stop crying.

“S-stop… stop crying,” you whispered, fingers messing up your hair as you held fistfuls of it. You couldn’t catch your composure for the life of you, sliding against the bathroom wall onto the floor.

Vision blurring, you don’t know how long you were incoherent for. When you came back to yourself, Aemond was in front of you, crouched down.

“Hey,” he murmured softly, the door closed behind him, “It’s okay.”

You swallowed, still numb as he pried your fists from your head, out of your hair, smoothing it down.

“Look at me, can you do that? Nod if you can hear me.”

You nodded slowly, the feeling coming back to your extremities in a sprightly tickling sensation. You blinked tears from your eyes, the liquid smearing your vision.

Aemond rasped a thumb over your eyes, effectively clearing the obstruction from your vision. “Just breathe,” he continued to whisper. It was ever reminiscent of when he would calm you down after a nightmare, voice low and scratchy in a way that comforted you. He was so close now, closer than he’d been in forever. He still smelled the same, the scent triggering a deep aching within your chest. A scent that took you forever to get rid of, but you never truly could. “Can… we talk?” he asked then, his voice sounding more vulnerable than ever.

It felt like whiplash, visions of your previous fights plaguing you, where he had been so closed off, so far away, so distant that you couldn’t reach him– and now, he was here. In the present, in the flesh. In front of you, opened. Not opened completely, but you could see it, like the slit of a cracked door, the light bleeding through. It was there.

“... yeah.”

“I… I’m… I’m sorry. What I did was fucked up. It was fucked up and wrong and you didn’t deserve any of it.”

“You’re right about that,” you muttered, pulling your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. “I didn’t deserve it.”

Aemond’s mouth twitched slightly before he sat down next to you, propping up his legs in a criss-cross. He opened his mouth to speak a few times, before closing it. His hands flexed and unflexed in quick succession– he was clearly thinking very carefully about his next words. “... I’ve… got issues. You know that better than anyone. I don’t know what was going through my head those months that we fought. I can hardly remember it now, it was like… I was in a fog, a haze– I was working myself half to death, I just wanted dad to notice, to fucking… appreciate me,” he put his hands on his head, “I was so… tied up in this illusion that if I made junior associate at the firm so young that he would congratulate me on my achievement and…” Aemond let out a sigh, “And… in the process… I pushed you away.”

You looked at him, feeling your gaze soften ever so slightly. You knew that his father was a sore spot for him and that trauma ran deep. “You didn’t just push me away, Aemond,” you sighed, reaching out a shaky hand to pry one of his from his face. “... if you would’ve just talked to me, I could’ve helped. You didn’t push… you… you shoved, you shoved and ran in the other direction.”

His one violet eye danced towards you. “I know. I’ve been kicking myself for it. When Aegon told me you weren’t doing well… I almost left work to see you.”

“... you did?”

“Yeah. Aegon basically told me not to– that… this was something you needed space for. Kind of like I did but… maybe in a more healthy way.”

“A text wouldn’t have hurt.”

He reached into his pocket and took out his phone– his wallpaper was still the same as it was, a picture of you, him and Vhagar very unhappy in an elf costume. He scrolled to his notes app, which was filled with messages addressed to you. “... I thought it might, after what Aegon had said. I was… ashamed of how I acted, how I handled the whole thing– how I left you alone without a word. He told me how you looked… dead. I didn’t want to make it worse.”

Your eyes scanned the messages, picking out some words. The main ones that caught your gaze were ‘sorry’, ‘love’, ‘regret’. A huge breath left your lungs, feeling as if everything had been knocked out of you at once. You felt like you were being whipped back and forth in the wind, trying to grab onto anything. If you both weren’t so stubborn and just messaged one another– well, no. You did message him, one time. “I thought you blocked me.”

“... for five minutes, maybe.”

“God, we’re so fucking stupid, Aemond.”

“You aren’t– don’t say that. I’m literally a dumbass. All of my siblings told me so, even my own mother, and you know she never curses.”

The tiniest of smiles cracked onto your face as you jostled his shoulder. “Yeah… you are a dumbass. I am allowed to say it at least once. So, um,” you shuffled slightly, “Daeron kind of let it slip that you had a new girlfriend?”

Aemond pinched his brow. “Of course he said that. He is twenty-one years old and still doesn’t know how to use his goddamn ears. I said I was seeing a new therapist, not that I had a fucking girlfriend.”

“A therapist?”

“... things got really dark for me after I moved back into our… no, my… place. After you officially moved out. It felt lifeless, all of your things were gone, the fucking warmth sucked out of the place. It felt like it’d been sterilized of anything… good. I feel into something– I don’t know, a depression? I guess, that’s what Aegon called it. He suggested I see a therapist, citing me as ‘an emotionally stunted asshole who needs more therapy than him’.” he exaggerated the last bit with air quotes, rolling his eye.

“... he isn’t wrong. I mean, I love your family, but all of you are all kinds of fucked up. Maybe I am too, practically being a part of it.”

Aemond chuckled, giving a tight lipped smile. “We are fucked up. I realized that… I really do not give a shit what my dad thinks, because nothing will ever be good enough for him. He’s so far gone now that he probably doesn’t even know we exist. I’ve come to terms with that and honestly… it feels like a weight has been lifted.”

“I’m glad you could… work through some of that, Aemond.” you say sincerely, resting your cheek on his arm absentmindedly.

“... I want to talk about us.”

“... us. Okay.”

“I don’t expect you to want to jump right back into things. It would be unfair to think that– but… maybe we could try?”

Your chest feels a bit tight at his admission– he wanted to try. Every fiber in your being wanted to say yes and jump back into it like you’d never left. But you knew you couldn’t. There were still parts of you scarred by this whole experience, some parts that may never heal. It would take a long time and a lot of talks like this to even get some semblance of what the both of you had. “Well… before we were together, believe it or not, we were friends. Could we… try that for right now?”

His chest visibly deflated a bit, but he nodded. “Whatever you need, okay?”

–

The days following Christmas, leading up to New Year’s were… different. You and Aemond were back in contact, going out for coffee and lunch a few times.

On the day before New Year’s eve, you texted him.

Turns out, timing the movie to sync with 12 am on New Year’s day to Toby Maguire saying ‘Pizza time’ was difficult. Well, it wasn’t difficult for normal people– but you and Aemond were a bit tipsy, as Aegon had left some hard apple ciders in your fridge, to which you both indulged.

“Okay, okay,” Aemond stared at his phone, “5… 4… 2… wait, no, fuck, 3… 2… I think we fucked it up– just go, go!”

Quickly, you started the movie. “Maybe we should’ve practiced– can we start over?” you plopped on the couch, sinking into the sofa and taking a swig of the cider.

“Doesn’t work like that, sweetheart. Can’t turn back time.” he mused softly, squatting down on one of the mushroom stools. “Pretty comfy.”

“Aegon picked those out, nifty, huh?”

“Nifty.” he parroted.

The movie continued on, but as it went on, there was an unspoken tension growing. Aemond hadn’t sat on the couch, but rather, the stools that were on the other side of the room. It felt like a chasm had formed, the strain almost palpable.

You chewed on your lip anxiously, contemplating whether or not to say anything. But, you had both been trying a new technique called ‘communication’ – a pretty cool and helpful thing that Aemond’s therapist had taught him. You remember laughing when he posed it that same way– but it was extremely important. You cleared your throat. “Why are you sitting all the way over there?”

“... um. I wanted to try the mushroom seats, I guess.”

“You don’t want to sit next to me?” you countered, feeling especially brave.

“Is that… alright?”

“Um, duh. I invited you over for pizza and a movie so we could… sit together. Not for you to be half a mile away sitting on a mushroom.”

“As long as it’s alright with you.” he murmured, sitting up from the mushroom stool and making his way over to you, sliding onto the couch, still a few feet away from you.

You weren’t sure if it was the atmosphere, the pent up emotions, the small buzz of alcohol, or a destructive cocktail of all three, but you inched closer to him. Closer, closer… until your thighs were touching. You glanced up at him beneath fettered lashes. “Hi.”

“Hey.” he responded, his voice low and warm. It caused a balmy and comforting vibration to go through you, reverberating in your chest.

You became all too aware of your movements, your closeness to him, the skin of your thigh grazing against his jeans as you got as close as you could. Your lips parted slightly as he stared back down at you. “Can… we?”

“Can we, what?” he murmured, lacing his fingers through your loose hair, gently grasping it at the nape of your neck. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“... kiss. A little bit.”

“Just a little bit?”

“Mhm. A teeny bit.” you leaned up, Aemond meeting you halfway as your lips came together. The culmination of your year apart, all of the emotions, the sadness, the frustration and anger, the passion, love, tears– all of it came together at this moment as the two of you melded together perfectly, as if you’d never left. You couldn’t help but let out a sigh of contentment, followed by what could only be articulated as a moan.

It caught both of you off guard, Aemond pulling away for a moment, his lips still ghosting over yours. “Fucking hell,” he breathed against your skin, sending goosebumps tingling from your tailbone up to the nape of your neck, the hairs on your body standing on end. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you,” you responded before latching onto him once more. It started off loving and slow, your lips moving against one another like two old lovers dancing together– then it began to heat up, your mouth parting to accommodate his tongue, gnashing against yours as their dance turned up a notch. Your hands roamed his body, everything you committed to memory for so many years still in its same spot. It felt good, it felt like home. “Please, Aemond– I… I need you. It’s been so long… too long…”

“Too long since I’ve had you, had this,” his hand reached down, cupping your mound still hidden beneath your panties. Somehow, you foresaw this moment before it happened and thankfully wore a light dress. “Let me in, love.”

You parted your legs, feeling the ever familiar crook of his fingers slide down the front of your panties, testing the waters. The pad of his thumb and middle finger locked on instantly to your clit, swirling the sensitive bud, sending electric shocks through your extremities. You bit your lip to stifle a moan, pressing your forehead against his. “Need you inside, now.” you all but growled as you peppered little kisses along the soft flesh of his neck.

He wouldn’t keep you waiting long, as it seemed he needed this as much as you did. He parted your panties to the side, propping you on top of him and sliding you down his length, earning a hissed gasp from both of you. It took all of his strength not to burst in you right then, as you enveloped him in your tight, wet heat. “You were made for me,” he breathed, biting down on your shoulder, leaving red marks. One of his favorite things to do was to mark you, leaving hickies in his wake as he worshiped every inch of exposed skin he could reach. “Melded so perfectly, just for me.” he grabbed the flesh of your bottom, squeezing gently at first, then landing a smack on it as he began to thrust up into you.

You nodded fervently, hiccuping little moans as you dug your face into his shoulder, biting him in turn. Your nails sunk into his skin, indenting against his spine as they always had, as they always were meant to. It felt much like a pianist resting their fingers on the ivories after a long break, the pads of your fingers sinking into the ridges of his very being. You were meant to be here, he was meant to be here. You could feel your end coming on all too soon, his cock filling every nook and cranny of you, bullying that spongy, delicate sweet spot just right. You began to clench, your tell-tale sign to him that you were close.

“I love you,” he whispered, panting slightly, using one hand to push your face back so you could meet his gaze. His wild, pupil-blown out gaze, cheeks reddened, mouth parted, brow furrowed. “I love you, I fucking love you. I missed you– fuck.”

“I l-love you,” you responded before he parted your lips with his thumb, “Love you so much– p-please, s’close.” you whined into his mouth.

“Let go, sweetheart, c’mon,” he grinned against your lips, nipping and biting at them. “Come for me.”

That was all you needed, the twine of your climax coming undone right in your core, snapping like a taut thread. Your usual habit was to hide your face in his shoulder when you came, whimpering and panting– but he didn’t let you this time. He held your face, staring at you intently as if you were a piece of fine art on display, and he was a connoisseur.

You clenched around him tightly, spurring him to his own end. His hard wrought fingers gripped your ass like it was a lifeline, grunting as he found his release deep within you, where it was always meant to be.

Coming down from your high, you slumped against his chest, mouth parted. Embarrassingly enough, a little drool wetted your lips. You were fully and thoroughly fucked out, not even registering that Tobey Maguire said “Pizza time!”

“Happy New Year, love,” Aemond murmured against your hair, nestling you tightly against him. He didn’t pull out– he preferred it this way, having you warm him through until you both fell asleep.

“... Happy New Year,” you whispered back.

–

Two and a half months later, it was Valentine's day. You and Aemond were officially dating again as of January 2nd, much to the surprise of no one.

You both took things as slow as you could, keeping separate apartments for the time being– but you’d given him a key to your place about two weeks in, and he was there all the time, taking much needed leave from work.

Unlocking the door to your apartment, you walked in, seeing Aemond lounging on the couch with a scruffy brown furball on him.

“Oh, Vhagar! You brought my baby,” you mused, dropping your items (with some grace, so as not to scare the geriatric cat), walking over, “Oh, I hope she remembers me.” you frowned, kneeling down and offering your hand to her.

“Of course she’ll remember, she yelled at me for a good three months at Aegon’s when we were without you.”

Vhagar sniffed your hand for a good minute before blinking her sleepy, lazy eyes at you, then promptly rubbing her scraggly cheek fur on your hand. You were elated, scratching her cheeks, hearing the tinkling of a little bell.

“A new collar?”

“Mhm, take a look.”

You swirled the collar around, looking for the name tag– only to find… a ring. An opal and moonstone ring. Your heart stopped in your chest as you stared at Aemond.

“I would get down on one knee– I was intending on you coming home and Vhagar running to you and then you finding it… but she’s on me, and I can’t get up. Cat rules,” he mused, unclipping the collar from her neck and slipping the ring onto your finger. “I know we’ve only been dating for… a month and a half, so stop me if it’s too soon.” he grinned, his toothy smile.

Vhagar gave a croaking meow, promptly jumping off of Aemond’s lap. As soon as the old cat was off, you threw yourself at Aemond, blubbering. “This… this…” you sniffed, unable to form words.

“Just so there isn’t any confusion… will you marry me?” he asked, wiping your tears away with his thumb.

“Yes, yes– I will,” you sniffle, burying your face in his chest and sobbing.

He let you sob on him, getting his shirt all snotty and wet, all while smiling.

After crying for at least ten minutes, you manage to take a picture, sending it to the group chat, with the caption: “I think we should add him to the chat now, guys.”

Ding.

“Is this group chat named ‘Aemond sucks’?”

#aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond x fem!reader #aemond #aemond one eye #hotd fic #aemond fanfic #aemond fluff #aemond smut #modern aemond smut #modern aemond #aemond targaryen smut #hotd smut #aemond angst #my writing

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bluecollarmcandtf · 2 months

Text

Monkey Business

Thanks for the Ask, Fetifiction

I heard you've got a crush on your gym buddy. You said his name was Amir, right? I know you like his personality or whatever, but he's not exactly your type. Is he? So, I sent you some experimental protein powder. It's called Ape Mode. Slip some of that in his drink...I think you'll like what happens...

"Oh, hey dude," Amir gives a friendly nod, "I almost thought you weren't coming. Did that professor hold class after the bell again?"

"Yup!" your voice shakes as you answer.

It's a lie. You just spent the last twenty minutes trying to spike his sports drink in the locker room. It was hard enough to find the damn thing, but you had to make sure it was definitely his. Luckily, his gym bag is bright yellow. It's pretty hard to miss, so the half empty bottle sitting next to it had to be his.

"He's a real douchebag," your friend complains, "Come on. I just started stretching."

Nervously, you sit beside Amir and try to keep up with his stretches. He asks you about your day and wonders if you need to vent about school. You just shake your head. Amir's caring personality is the best thing about him, but it's also making you feel really guilty for lying to him. Hopefully, that powder doesn't screw him up!

Amir ends the warmup and climbs to his feet. You watch as your best friend walks over to the locker room and pulls out his drink: the one you spiked. For a brief moment, you feel a flash of regret and almost shout out for him to stop, but it's already too late. The moment has passed. Amir is gulping down the entire contents of his bottle. All you can do is stare at him and wait.

"You good, dude?" Amir asks, snapping you out of your daze.

"Yup! Totally...um... let's workout!"

Amir claps you on the back and heads over to a treadmill. The guy is always doing cardio, leaving him thin and nimble, but you'd rather he looked a different way. You want to see him big and brawny like the man of your dreams. Hopefully, by the end of this workout, he will.

It's hard to act normal, but you swallow your anxiety and walk over to a weight machine. It's in the perfect spot to keep an eye on Amir. You want to know as soon as the changes start happening. A small part of you still doubts whether or not Ape Mode will actually work.

30 minutes later...

"Dude, I don't know what's happening! I was just running on the treadmill like normal, but..." he glances down at his swollen arms in disbelief, "well look at me!"

"I don't know either," you tell him with your most convincing voice, "but you look great!"

Amir takes another look down at his biceps. They've easily expanded to twice the size they used to be, but that's not the only thing that's changed. You've been staring at him on the treadmill for the last half hour. His whole body seemed to expand! His thighs thickened and his shoulders broadened. You think he even got taller! Not to mention the dense layer of stubble that's sprouted all over Amir's face.

He hasn't seemed to notice it all yet, but every part of his body seems to have shifted in some way! Seeing your friend transform into your wet dream is a lot more stressful than you imagined. You might be hiding a raging boner, but you're still worried about what will happen when Amir looks in a mirror. What if he doesn't like the new him? You wonder for a second if you should just come clean and tell him about the powder.

Amir flexes his arm, staring at his bulging bicep with a worried look, "I don't know, dude. Should I be worried?"

You look into your friend's vulnerable eyes, "Nope! Let's just get back to our workout."

Amir nods and lowers his tense shoulders. He trusts your judgement and brushes off his concerns. You watch with a mixture of guilt and excitement as Amir saunters back to the treadmill. His ass has even filled out, too!

"Dude!" a deep voice moans behind you.

"Woah!" your jaw drops at the site of Amir. His voice has lowered several octaves to the point where you couldn't even recognize it. His appearance is just as drastically different. The big hairy man standing before you looks only vaguely like the friend you know and love.

"What, is it bad? I don't feel good..." Amir groans, "Buh-UUuurrrp!” A low gutteral belch voices out of his stomach.

You don't know how to react. His transformation is progressing wildly, and you're almost too turned on to comfort him!

"I was just running, but my steps just kept feeling heavier, and I was feeling itchy all over, and my shirt is pinching me, and..." he trails off as he scratches his gut absent-mindedly.

It looks like he's gained sixty pounds, so it's no wonder that his shirt is feeling tight! Some of that weight isnt muscle, either. Amir has a bit of a gut, now, and with his shirt soaked in sweat, you can see how hairy his new chest is. His entire body seems to be sprouting fur like he's some kind of animal!

"Don't worry about it," you say, grabbing Amir's hand in an effort to calm him down. You might as well commit to his transformation at this point! It's obviously working!

"But, I'm so fat and hairy," he grunts slowly, "And I can't move ten inches without sweating like a pig!" his stomach growls before his bubbling up his chest, "Buur…brrruUuUUUP!”

"Hey these changes are normal, big guy," you pat him on his big meaty back, "I like the new Amir."

Amir frowns and rips his hand away from yours. Before you know it, he's stomping back over to the treadmill with heavy steps that shake the floor. He seems to have a little less patience than he used to. Maybe he's just frustrated by all the changes?

"Amir can we go now?" you ask for the third time in a row, "You've been staring at yourself in that mirror for an hour now!"

He doesn't seem to hear you. Amir has packed on so much fat, muscle, and hair that he looks completely unrecognizable. He almost seems more like he's an animal than your old friend.

He's been watching the final touches of his transformation take place in his new form, only pausing to occasionally scratch his ass or sniff his pits. Of course, the entire gym is giving him angry looks. A cloud of strong BO is wafting off of him, and it doesn't help that he keeps burping and farting loud enough for everyone to hear. Amir seems totally oblivious to how uncomfortable he's making everyone, so you're left to feel all the social awkwardness.

"Amir, come on," you tenderly grab his hairy forearm.

"GrrrUH!" Amir growls and rips his arm away again.

You roll your eyes and shake your head. You wanted Amir to look like a hairy beast, not act like one! How the hell are you supposed to get him out of here, let alone fall in love with you? He's acting like a big stupid caveman!

Feeling defeated, you stumble over to the locker room. If your going to leave, you at least want something to cover the tent in your shorts. Amir's bright yellow backpack would never fit on his massive frame anymore. He probably couldn't even remember how to put it on. With a sigh, you pick the thing up hold it close to your waist.

"MmnNanna?" a curious grunt comes as you reenter the gym. Amir, the huge hairy beast is staring at the yellow backpack with hungry eyes. "Nanna," he growls more definitively.

"You want a banana?" you ask gingerly.

"Mmmmngh!" he nods emphatically, licking his lips.

This is yellow backpack must be your ticket to controlling him! "Follow me," you smile, finally understanding how this beast of a man.

With lumbering steps, Amir stumbles behind you. It's a good thing he's hot, because he's lost all the intelligence he'd had before. All you had to do was say the word banana and now he's following you out to the car, drooling the entire way. You can't help but chuckle at your gigantic friend following behind you like a big dumb animal.

In the car, you toss the yellow bag as far back as you can. All three hundred pounds of Amir jumps inside and you slam the door shut behind him. Now you just have to get the guy home with him getting too angry.

"BuuuUughHnnannNnaAH!" he bellows, beating his chest with wild fury.

"Ok, ok! I'll go buy a damn banana."

"Nnngh!" Amir clenches your wrist before you can get out of the car. "...nanna!" he grunts, staring at your crotch like it's his first meal in weeks.

"Oh," you gasp. You didn't know he meant that banana. Amir's transformation might not have been what you expected, but you couldn't deny that you were enjoying your new friend. This is going to be an interesting car ride...

#transformation story #gay ai art #gay beast #mind control #gay mind control

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deliciousbasementtrash · 6 months

Text

Playing Nurse for the Batfam

From Batman Wayne Family Adventures on Webtoon. Artist Inker Starbite

Summary: you are a nurse working for Gotham General Hospital. Batman has offered you a job. You are now a nurse for the entire Batfamily. Jason patches you up.

Pairing: Slowburn Jason Todd x Female!reader

Warning: Adult language, angst, mention of a gunshot

Word Count: 1.3k (sorry it's a bit shorter today)

Note: These characters are not my own they belong to DC. The only character that is 'mine' is the reader. I am going to be as nondescript as possible for the reader as well for physical attributes. This is a continuation series; I’m not sure how long it will be. Also for some reason, my replies to comments are not showing up. I’m not ignoring your comments Tumblr won’t let me respond :( But please, please comment I live for it

Masterlist

Part Six: The Patch Up

Tentatively, I gave Jason my burned hands. They dwarfed in comparison to his. I watched Jason’s face as he assessed me. His dark brows were pinched with concentration; his jaw was clenched tight. I noticed his forehead was spackled with sweat, and his cheeks looked flushed. Concern flashed in my mind, as I closed my eyes and did my own assessment of him.

My power fell over me like a blanket, covering me with the essence of Jason. I searched around trying to find the cause of his disheveled state. There, flashing bright, was a gunshot wound to his stomach. My eyes flew open.

“Jason, why the hell did you not say anything? You have a fucking gunshot wound!” I yelled at him, as I slowly healed him. I saw spots float in the edges of my vision and felt bile rise in my throat. Quickly, I blinked and swallowed trying to regain composure. After healing Tim, Dick, and Bruce using my power felt more like drudging through mud rather than gliding on ice.

I felt Jason’s grip on my wrist tighten, “Don’t you dare try to heal me. I don’t want it.” Contraindicating his harsh tone, he lightly cleaned my hands and began wrapping them meticulously.

“What do you mean you don’t want it? You need it.” Anger flashed inside me. His tone might have been harsh, but mine was final. There was no arguing with me. Not over this.

Jason must have felt the signifying cue of pins and needles, “Dammit, y/n! I said I don’t want it! Not when you’re like this!”

Annoyance, sharp and hot stabbed through me, “Jason, I’m fine. I’ve dealt with worse before, and I deal with worse in the future. But you need to have that healed.” The argument was futile. I was done healing him by the time the words left my mouth.

I felt Jason tense when he realized what I had done. His eyes burned with anger. I tried my best to keep eye contact with him. Not wanting to back down. But my body betrayed me and began to sway.

Jason’s hands steadied me and I heard him swear under his breath, “Dick get me a protein bar.” Once again it was a demand.

“Were you raised in a barn? Saying fucking please, dickwad,” I said, unsteadily.

Jason held up the protein bar, “I don’t want another word out of you. Eat it.”

Out of spite, I kept my mouth shut tight.

“You either eat this willingly or I shove it down your throat,” Jason practically growled.

Succumbing to my body’s needs I ate the damn protein bar. Despite not wanting to follow Jason’s commands I needed food, water, and sleep. When I finished the protein bar I held the empty wrapper up for him to see. “There are you happy?”

“Not in the slightest,” he grumbled.

I barely refrained from rolling my eyes, slowly I got up. “Well while you are sulking in the corner I am going to bed. Goodnight.”

“Try not to pass out on your way up there,” Jason yelled behind me. I was already in the elevator.

“Try not to get shot again,” I shuck my tongue out just before the doors closed. I could have sworn I saw Jason smirk at that.

***********************************************************************************************

That night I could barely sleep. I tossed and turned, my mind racing. Just as I was finally drifting off to sleep a scream cut through the air. In a matter of seconds, I threw my blankets off and ran out of my room. I looked frantically around trying to determine where the scream came from. A few whimpers sounded and I realized it came from the room neighboring my own. Without a second thought, I opened the door.

The room was dark save for one lamp that remained on, giving the room a slight glow. The room was clean with miscellaneous books and knives scattered about. Toward the back of the room, pressed up against two walls, as if hiding, was a bed. A bed with a man thrashing around like a fish out of water. He was gasping for air, and crying out.

“Please, stop! Please! Please!” Jason cried and begged. Something inside me cracked, as I ran forward.

I knew I probably shouldn’t have abruptly woken him up, but I couldn’t stand the fear and heartbreak in his voice.

“Jason,” I said gently, but loud enough to wake him up. He thrashed more. “Jason, wake up, please,” I begged him.

It wasn’t working, slowly I put my hand on his shoulder, and as if I struck him with lightning he abruptly shot up in bed. His hands wrapped around my throat. Instantly, I couldn’t breathe. His grip was a steal that I could not break.

“Jason!” I croaked out. His eyes were unseeing, somewhere far away. “Jason!” I tried again. Not wanting to hurt him, but needing him to get off I started lightly slapping his face. I saw him blink and shake his head as if clearing cobwebs. I saw the moment he realized it was me. He released me instantly and pushed himself to the far edge of his bed. Putting the most distance between us as he could.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” He yelled at me, his eyes crazed as he looked at my neck.

“I’m sorry! I heard screaming. I just wanted to help–”

A dark bitter laugh escaped him, “Of course, you just wanted to help. That’s how you justify everything, isn’t it? Get the fuck out of my room.” I got whiplash from the words leaving his lips. They paralyzed me for a moment. “I said get out!” Jason yelled.

Waking me from my trance I ran out of the room. My heart pounding. Tears threatened to spill. I couldn’t get his words out of my head.

Of course, you just wanted to help. That’s how you justify everything.

Have I become manipulative like my father? Using my righteousness as a shield thinking I’m better than him? When all along I was just the same. A cruel person using others to make myself feel better. Was that the root of my motivation? I didn’t know. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

As if the universe heard my thoughts, a text popped up on my phone from a number I did not have saved.

[Have lunch with me today. Your mother’s favorite spot. 12:30. Don’t be late.]

A cold bitter laugh left me. Today was going to be a fucking shit show.

**************************************************************************************************

Jason ran a hand through his hair, over and over. Ever since he came back he had the same dream every night. Every night he relived the Joker beating him. Every night he felt the pain of coming back to life. Maybe that’s why it is so hard to forgive Bruce. To Bruce it’s linear, something that happened in the past. To Jason, it happened in the past but is also happening right now.

Jason was used to the nightmares. The whole house was. At first they all came and comforted him. But each time Jason snapped. He said something that cut too deep. And eventually, the people stopped coming to comfort him. It was a blessing and a curse. Jason wasn’t sure if he was happy or sad they stopped coming. He didn’t want to hurt them, but he didn’t want to be scared and alone. But he never thought… he never thought that she would try and comfort him.

Jason’s heart raced as he clutched his head in his hands. He had strangled her. What if he hadn’t woken up? What if he broke her neck? She needs to stay away from him. She is too good. Too pure of heart. If she was around him; his black decaying heart would make her own start to rot. He couldn’t handle that. He couldn’t hurt her again.

No. Jason would have to push y/n away. That was the only answer.

Taglist: @soundsfunbutno@killxz@morpheus-girl@redhood414@bungunz@conicoroahre@greenyofthegreens@taytaylala12 @theroyalmanatee @nym-0-s @sarahskywalker-amadala @bonesbonesetc @dreaming-of-the-reality @gone-batty-fics @thescarletcryptid @bakugosgf2005 @irregular-child @vythika96 @greenyofthegreens @mythicalmo

Let me know what you guys think <3

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blue-aconite · 9 months

Text

it was just a kiss || j.h.s

Summary: A night at the Hard Deck takes a turn when Jake confides in Mickey about some personal matters.

Warnings: swearing, fluff, jake has feelings, no use of y/n (reader has a nickname), fanboy is the ultimate bestie, drunk rooster is a menace to society

Word Count: 2.4k

Pairings: Jake Seresin x reader

Authors Note: Based on this prompt by @creativepromptsforwriting. Thanks to @writercole @demxters & @seresinsweetie for looking this over for me!

“The girl with the bachelorette party has been eyeing you all evening.” Fanboy handed him another beer, perching onto the bar stool next to him.

Hangman looked over to where the group of girls were seated, catching the eye of the brunette that had been trying to get his attention since they arrived. The girl gestured towards the doors but he shook his head, giving her an apologetic smile.

“Dude, what are you doing? She’s hot.” Mickey slapped his arm, eyes wide as saucers.

“I’m not interested.”

Fanboy looked concerned, swivelling around on his chair. “Alright, let me get this straight. For the past month, I’ve seen countless women approach you, yet you’ve turned them all down. What’s going on?”

Jake snorted into his beer. “Nothing. I’m just not interested.”

“Can we please just have a human conversation? I know that underneath all of those protein shakes and hair products is an actual human being called Jake, and not Hangman. So, stop trying to avoid the subject.” Mickey leaned back against the wall, knocking his knee into Jake’s.

Jake stared at Fanboy for the longest time, not knowing what to say. He opened his mouth but no words came out, so he settled back against the wall as well, keeping his eyes on the floor.

The Daggers had been permanently stationed at Top Gun since the Uranium Mission, instructing and flying together. Jake tried his best to play nice, offering to drive most of them home from the bar at times and buying beers on their nights out. He had made an effort to try and interact more, trying to show interest in their lives but he didn’t think that the rest of the group, save Javy, had actually accepted him into their little makeshift family. He still felt like he wasn’t truly a part of the group, but Mickey’s concern told him that maybe he was wrong.

Fanboy shifted slightly, putting his beer away. “Jake. You can talk to me.”

“I didn’t think, uh, I mean -”

Fanboy smiled, patting his arm reassuringly. “I know. I know you think we don’t care, but we do. If you don’t want to talk, that’s fine. But something is obviously bothering you. If you’re not comfortable with me, Javy might be a better option?”

Jake didn’t know what to say. He waited for the punchline, where Fanboy would laugh and mock him but it never came. Mickey was being sincere. The WSO just waited patiently, fingers drumming on the wooden bar behind them.

“You know, you remind me of my brother.” Mickey picked at his jeans, pulling at the loose strings over the knee. When Jake didn’t respond, he kept on talking.

“His name is Diego. He’s the oldest. There’s five of us, by the way. He’s just like you. Walls up so high you can barely see past them. He always used to make fun of us when we were kids. I hated it. But when I got older, I realised that he was only doing it to push us. Mom and dad put a lot of responsibility on him and he did the best he could.”

Jake listened as Mickey rambled on, the uncomfortable pit in his stomach lessening the longer Fanboy kept talking.

“I know you’re doing the best you can as well. I know that you taunt Rooster with the sole purpose of making sure he pushes his own limits. I can tell. You push us all to be better.”

He swallowed thickly, trying to make out what had transpired in the last 20 minutes. “How? How can you tell?”

Mickey grinned widely. “Like I said, you remind me of Diego,” he grabbed the bottle again, “you’re one of us Jake, even if you don’t think so.”

Jake decided to throw caution to the wind and believe what Fanboy was telling him. If it was all true, then maybe he could talk to him. Maybe he could start being a part of the group. Before he could even open his mouth, Rooster appeared out of thin air and threw an arm around his shoulder.

“HANGMAN! The lady over there is asking about you!” Bradley leaned in closer, as if he was going to share a secret. “I think she wants to fuck you.”

Fanboy snorted loudly, startling Rooster. “Fanboy, didn’t see you there! What do you think, do you think she wants to fuck him?”

A bright red flush was covering Bradley’s cheeks and his eyes were slightly unfocused and glazed over.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Rooster, how much have you had to drink?”

Bradley was leaning onto Jake now, his head on his shoulder. “You know, you smell good. And your hair is very soft.” Rooster patted Jake’s head, smiling stupidly at his teammate.

“Okay buddy, I think we should get you home.” Bob appeared, slinging Rooster’s unoccupied arm around his shoulder, supporting most of his weight as he pulled him off of Jake. Bradley made a sound of protest as he was separated from Jake.

“No, I was gonna help Hangman get laid. There’s a lady over there, and she’s got the hots for him.” He waved in the general direction of the bar.

“He isn’t interested. So you can go home,” Fanboy laughed, pushing Bradley’s hand away as it aimed for his head.

Bob tried to get him to move, but Bradley turned in his grasp, almost losing his balance. “You’re not? But I was gonna help.” He pouted, leaning back onto Bob who grunted under the extra added weight.

Jake didn’t get the chance to answer as Bob hauled Rooster away with the help of Payback who had snuck up on them. Bradley complained the entire way, waving excitedly to Penny at the bar as his teammates practically carried him out of the door.

“I guess that’s it. You two coming with us or what?” Nat sauntered by, Javy following closely.

Jake was about to agree but Fanboy beat him to it. “In a minute. You go ahead.”

They waved goodbye and Jake itched to follow his best friend. Now it was just him and Mickey. Even though he was about to spill his guts out right before Bradshaw interrupted them, Jake hesitated.

“C’mon, let’s get some air.” Fanboy left his seat and Jake had no choice but to follow him out onto the deck. The sun was long gone, the pale moon taking its place. He could hear the waves crashing against the shore, people laughing further down the beach as they sat around a bonfire, sparkling brightly against the darkness.

“I could tell you were actually going to talk before Rooster interrupted us. Still want to?”

Jake hesitated for a moment before slumping back against the wooden rail. “Have you spoken much to the new team of mechanical engineers that arrived a couple of months ago? Like, Mercury for example,” he sighed as he nodded towards the window. Through it, across the bar, he could see Mercury sitting with her friends.

Mickey stretched out his legs in front of him. “Sure. Mercury is badass. Her team is much better than Rogers and his idiots.” Their former mechanical team had been replaced by Mercury and her co-workers at the beginning of spring. Everyone preferred the new team.

“Well, you see, uh. A couple of weeks ago, I ran into Mercury. And we’ve hung out a few times, outside of work. And I…” Jake trailed off, not knowing how to continue.

Fanboy turned to him, eyes wide. “Are you telling me the reason you’ve been turning down all these women is because you’ve got a crush on Mercury?”

Jake’s heart hammered in his chest, gut twisting slowly. “It’s not that. Well, partly. I can’t stop thinking about her, no matter how much I try to occupy myself. I miss her when I don’t see her for a couple of days and I feel like, I don’t know, all giddy and shit when she smiles.”

“It sounds like more than a crush. So why the sad face man?” Fanboy nudged his side.

“I kissed her. Well, she kissed me. We kissed. And after, she said ‘it was just a kiss’.” Jake deflated with disappointment, trying to hide just how much her response actually hurt him.

Mickey stayed quiet for a while before speaking. “Did you say you wanted something more?”

“I told her that I knew it was just a kiss but asked if it had to be just that.”

“What did she say?”

It hurt more than Jake liked to admit to revisiting what happened after their kiss. “She said that while she liked me, she knew of my reputation and had no intention of being another notch in my bedpost.”

Fanboy clicked his tongue. “And that’s why you’ve stayed away from all the women. Trying to show her that you’re serious?”

Jake hadn’t anticipated for Mickey to see right through him. The emotional turmoil of opening up like this, to have someone listen and not mock, was jarring. Jake didn’t exactly have a lot of those people in his life. But Fanboy stayed, listening patiently as Jake talked.

“Yes. Her words hurt but they’re true. I’m just trying to show her that I’m willing to change, for her. That I have changed.”

His companions' next words cut deeper than they should. “You’re in love with her. This isn’t just a crush.”

He hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself. Love wasn’t something Jake was familiar with. It scared him, to be vulnerable and open with someone. To let them see every part of him. But it was true. Over the course of a few short weeks, being in Mercury’s company had him breaking all his own rules as he realised that he did love her.

“Yes.”

“Then you should tell her. Tell her that you’ve changed, for her. Tell her that you love her.”

Jake sighed. “I can’t. She doesn’t feel the same, she made it very clear.”

Mickey slapped his arm, startling him. “Dude! Stop. You said that she said she liked you. If your past is the only thing stopping her, then you need to tell her,” he paused for a moment before lowering his voice, “and you deserve someone, Jake. You deserve love.”

He didn’t want to cry but Mickey’s words brought a wave of emotion upon him. He swiped at his face, trying to hide the tears.

All of what Mickey was saying went against everything Jake had ever been told. His father always told him he was no good and that no one would ever want anything from him. That he would never amount to anything. Never achieve anything.

“It’s okay man. I get it. You’re scared. But in the wise words of my abuela, ‘To love is to be scared. If you’re not scared, it’s not worth it’.”

Jake laughed, a watery sound before wiping his face again. “She sounds like a smart woman.” Jake took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts.

Mickey laughed as well, eyes sparkling. “She’s the best,” he looked past Jake, eyes trained on something outside Jake’s field of vision. “If you were to tell Mercury, what would you say to her?”

Jake took a moment to ponder, trying to put his feelings into words. He guessed it was too late to turn back now, Mickey had already seen parts of him he hadn’t shown anyone in years.

“I guess I would tell her how she makes me feel. That her smile brightens my day and that I want to make her laugh. That she makes me push myself to be better, both for myself and her. I’d tell her that I love her, even if it scares me. That I’ve changed and that my past doesn’t matter. She’s the only one I want.”

Fanboy clapped his hands together, smiling widely. “Good.”

“What do you mean ‘good’?” Jake turned but Mickey wasn’t looking at him. His eyes were trained behind him, shit eating grin in place on his face.

Jake turned his head, his eyes landing upon Mercury standing a few feet away, bottle dangling from her hand. He immediately choked up, hands growing clammy as he tried to find his voice. The look on her face told Jake she had heard everything.

“I’m gonna head back inside,” Mickey pushed off the chair before murmuring, “Remember what I said. You deserve love,” to Jake. He then sauntered back into the bar, saluting sloppily as he walked past Mercury.

Jake held his breath, counting to twenty as she approached him, sitting down tentatively in Fanboy’s abandoned seat. Neither of them spoke at first. Jake’s heart was beating so hard against his ribs that he thought it would break free. His palms were sweaty and he wanted to bolt, rush back inside.

“You love me?” She quietly asked, hands twisting in her lap. He desperately wanted to reach out and intertwine their hands but he wasn’t sure it would be welcomed. Mercury chose for him when she grew tired of waiting for an answer.

She reached over, clasping one of his hands between her own. “Jake. Talk to me.”

Mercury was staring at him with a gentle smile. Her face was open and inviting, making Jake feel braver. He could do this.

“Yes. I don’t know when it happened.” She laughed, squeezing his hand. “Does it matter when it happened?”

“I guess not.”

Neither of them spoke after that but there seems to be no need. All Jake focused on was the feeling of his hand between hers, the way they both seemed to breathe at the same time. It’s peaceful.

“I’m sorry that I said it was just a kiss,” Mercury murmured while tracing the veins on his hand. “I wanted to say it was more than that, but I didn’t want to get hurt.”

“Hurting you is the last thing I want. I want this. Us.” Jake squeezed her hand back, intertwining their fingers. He desperately wanted her to repeat his earlier words back to him but he didn’t want to push her either. He knew he loved Mercury. He could wait while she sorted her feelings out.

After all, he hadn’t exactly planned on telling her nor even approaching her.

“Jake?”

He hummed contentedly, the feeling of her hand in his calming him down better than any trick his therapist had ever taught him.

“If you want to, I’d like that kiss to be more than just a kiss. I want you. Truth is, I think I fell in love with you when we went hiking. I know that’s so long ago and I’m sorry for not telling you but -”

Jake cut her off, cupping her face and pressing their lips together, smiling into the kiss. She loved him. It was all he needed to know. They’d figure the rest out later. If Jake had it his way, they’d have the rest of their lives.

Taglist: @wildbornsiren @therebeccaw@imjess-themess@antiquitea@fuckyeahhangman@writercole@hederasgarden@yanna-banana@wkndwlff@bobfloydsbabe@hollandorks@anniesocsandgeneralstore@ereardon@luminousnotmatter@roosterscock@thedroneranger@fandomxpreferences@top-hhun@princessmisery666@bradshawsbitch @princessphilly@a-reader-and-a-writer@green-socks@angstybluejay@seresinhangmanjake@ayorooster@notroosterbradshaw @indynerdgirl@gigisimsonmars@girl-in-the-chairs-void@bradshawbabes@unhinged-btch@horseshoegirl@sadpetalsstuff@bradshawbaby@ahopelessromanticwritersworld@ummjustfics @septemberrie @somenamewithepineapple @seresinsweetie @crescentwolf @seresinhangmanjake @sylviebell @waklman @roosterforme @rosiahills22 @dempy @i0veless @ilovewriting06 @kmc1989 @demxters @amortentiadrops @teacupsandtopgun @hangmanscoming

#jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman x reader #top gun maverick fic #fe writes #jake hangman seresin

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dandylovesturtles · 6 months

Text

Lil missing scene from the movie

My favorite trope is when a character who is very hungry gets fed

———

Casey’s stomach growls, and he can only hope it’s masked by the rumbling of the tank as it travels through the subway.

He’s good at ignoring hunger pangs by now. Knows how to swallow them down and push ahead, had to learn because there’s never been enough food to truly silence them. Maybe when he was a child, and the adults in his life were fine with going with less when it meant he would be full, but as Casey’s body grew and demanded more and more the colony only had less and less.

He just hopes the turtles didn’t hear it. It’s embarrassing, and not really the impression he’s trying to give. And besides, it’s not like there’s anything they can do about it. They’re not going to stop for lunch.

Unfortunately, his stomach has other plans - right as there’s a lull in the conversation it growls again, and this time Michelangelo turns away from the console and looks at him in awe.

“Dude, was that your stomach!?”

“Uh…” He grins, trying to shrug it off. “Yes?”

“That was sooo loud! I thought there was a bear in here!”

“Oh. Sorry. Uh… it’s been awhile since my last meal.”

He’s hoping they just drop it there, but…

“How long is “awhile”?” asks Leonardo. He sounds unimpressed, and there’s the same piercing look in his eye that Sensei would have when he’d ask the same. When’d you last eat, kid?

So Casey knows there’s no dodging this one. The thing is, he’s not sure how to answer the question - there was the whole time travel business, and the mission before that, and the time he spent unconscious, and the attack on the Foot Clan…

Point is, he can only guess. He hopes Leonardo doesn’t see it as lying.

“Um… thirty five hours? Maybe?” That’s a pretty conservative estimate, but he hopes it flies. “But I’m fine! I’ve handled worse than this.”

Leonardo staring at him. Actually, they’re all staring at him. None of them look happy, and Casey’s stomach flips from something other than hunger.

Then Leonardo sighs, and he sounds disappointed. Casey opens his mouth to plead his case, to assure Sensei that he’s fit and ready to go, but Leonardo interrupts him by addressing Donatello instead.

“What’ve we got in the snack stash, Dee?”

“Hmmm…” Donatello flips on the autopilot again, leaving his chair and flipping open a compartment on the wall. “Sour candy, hot Cheeto’s, some snack cakes…”

“Oh, you don’t want any of that on an empty stomach,” says Michelangelo. “Trust me, it’s not worth it.”

“Well, we have some pretzels in here, and… oh.” Donatello’s voice goes a little quieter. “Some of Raph’s protein bars.”

Casey starts to insist that he doesn’t want to take Raphael’s food, but before he can Donatello has closed the compartment, wrapped food in hand.

“If you’ve been eating,” he makes a face, “leaves and rats, this is probably the best thing we can give you right now.” He fans them out. “We have plain and chocolate chunk.”

“I like the peanut butter ones,” says Michelangelo, “but we can’t keep those around.”

(A memory: Master Michelangelo making him a peanut butter sandwich as a special treat. Carefully wiping down the counter and utensils he’d used. When Casey asked, he’d said, “Because Raph-“

The sad look on his face was brief, but Casey never forgot.

“…Because we need to be careful, in case someone has a peanut allergy.”)

“I know.”

He takes one of the plain ones, unwrapping it hesitantly. Sensei’s voice echoes in his head, Eat slow. Small bites.

He knows he should, but when he tastes it his stomach roars to life, ravenous and angry. Before he knows it he’s eaten the entire bar in four barely chewed bites, and wishes he hadn’t because now it’s gone and he feels hungrier than when he began.

They’re still staring at him. He doesn’t know what to do, so he just says, “Thank you,” sincerely, because sharing food is the ultimate gesture of love in the apocalypse.

The rest of the bars are suddenly being shoved his way - four of them in total. “Here,” says Donatello, not meeting his eyes. “You can have the rest.”

“Ah, no,” he says quickly, trying to push them back. “I can’t take-“

“Raph always forgets they’re here, anyway,” says Donatello, waving him off. “Someone might as well eat them.”

Casey takes the bars. Donatello sits back down. They’re not looking at him anymore.

He looks at the protein bars in his hands. He’s still hungry.

He takes smaller bites this time. Savors the taste of oats and other flavors he can’t readily identify. It’s good. It’s really, really good.

He stows the last three bars away. He may need them later. Or maybe he can give them back to Raphael, after they rescue him.

“Three minutes to Metro Tower,” says Donatello, and he focuses up. His stomach’s quiet now - there’s no excuses.

He found the key. Now it’s time to stop the Krang.

#dandy fanfiction #rottmnt #casey jones jr #rise leo #rise donnie #rise mikey

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waklman · 11 months

Note

Hi Tilly! So, I’m living by myself for the first time and my dishwasher just flooded my apartment 🫠I’m fine😀, really… 😭. Anyways, I just wanted to ask you to maybe write something with Bradley and babybear 🥺. They are my comfort characters! love ya ❤️

summary: you and bradley go out for a late night snack or bf! bradley who stands there in silence x gf! who orders food for them both.

warnings: mentions of strict dieting, one or two suggestive jokes. fluff, 18+ blog.

note: helpp the way that kind of made me laugh. as a fellow girlie who also gets herself in trouble when left alone, i hope your floors are okay! excuse the quality as writers block has me by the neck

something 'bout you masterlist.

It’s not often that Bradley dines out. He’ll indulge in some of Penny’s greasy bar snacks once in a while—nothing more than that.

With the one time he did slack off, it wasn’t exactly easy to get back to his original physique. In fact, Bradley even found himself struggling to keep up with the likes of Hangman at one point.

And that was just the wake up call he needed to finally get back on track.

Since then, he’s made sure to double down on his efforts to stay in shape, scarfing down his protein packed, repetitive, plain meals. It’d be a lie to say that it wasn’t a bit tasking, but it's nothing Bradley Bradshaw couldn’t put up with. And when Bradley was committed towards something, he was all in.

But what he forgot to include in his ‘fool proof’ plan to remain loyal to his diet, was his stubborn girlfriend who loves to spoil him rotten. Which is why he's finding it difficult to swallow down his food tonight.

The usual pre-prepped dinner has never tasted so bland and downright dry, especially when you’re planted in front of him with that tablet in your hands.

For the past thirty minutes, Bradley has been subjected to a screening of strangers eating a variety of foods—from huge portions of instant noodles—to enormous crab legs being dipped in buckets of cheese.

He’s seen it all.

“Give in,” you whisper, fingers tightly curled around the edges of the ipad, though, you’re careful enough to not block the screen itself.

Across the rounded table he’s sat in, you’re standing there like you’re getting paid to show him a compilation of mukbang videos. You’d put the billboards lined up on the nearby highways to shame.

“Not a fucking chance,” he mutters under his breath, shaking his head firmly.

Stabbing his fork into another piece of boiled chicken, Bradley stuffs it into his mouth in defiance. He refuses to wave the white flag, not when he’s worked so hard to finally restrain himself.

Maverick would have to come twirling into the living-room in ballerina-get up for him to take it as a sign to treat himself to a cheat meal.

At his clear refusal to give in, your head peeks out, just so slightly, behind the thirteen inch screen, eyes narrowed with fiery determination igniting them.

“Mcdonalds. Wendys. Burger King. In and Out,” you repeatedly chant, legs starting to tremble under the strain of standing up for so long.

Bradley only flares his nostrils, a sign that he is not backing down either.

In any other scenario, his knees would’ve immediately buckled after one plea from you. But right now, he knows you’d stuff his face with junk—that he’s been successfully cutting out for months, if you were given the okay from him.

Though, he does have to admit, he’s finding it hard to keep a stern face because your legs look like they’re about to completely give out. Not wanting to keep you up any longer, Bradley tunes out your endless chant of fast food chains—which somehow turns into a catchy song, as he shovels more strips of chicken in his mouth.

Maybe if he finishes his dinner faster, he could coax you onto the couch to watch more Ryan Gosling movies.

Following your gut feeling, you lift a finger to the front of the screen, tapping repeatedly on the skip button—until it felt right. After spamming your pointer just a few times, you lift the index off the glass, letting it play at a random point in the compilation.

Bradley’s tongue prods his cheek, straight face starting to falter. “Baby it’s not gonna work. Please just sit dow—”

His mouth immediately clamps shut, throat moving as he swallows back a wad of drool pooling inside his mouth. The boring dinner under him is long forgotten.

Noticing his dazed state, you lower the screen to probe what finally caught his attention. Bradley’s eyes practically trails the movement of the tablet, not looking away for a second.

A platter of juicy burgers leaking oil and mountains of fries is what breaks him.

“And he’ll have the double bacon-burger, two large fries, one coke and—”

The teenage boy behind the register blinks in disbelief, watching the giant man in front of him lean down towards his girlfriend, shyly whispering in her ear.

Bradley draws back again, standing a head taller than you with his arms crossed around your front, glassy eyes roaming the lit-up menu stretched above the line of registers.

“Oh, can we actually make that a root beer? Also I’m really sorry, but can you remove the tomatoes from the burger as well?” You request, giving Bradley comforting strokes on the forearm he has slung over your chest.

“Yes, Ma’m I can…I can do that for you,” the worker clears his throat, editing the order on the screen, customer service voice practically cracking.

When you two first walked in, with matching pajama pants, the fast food employee assumed he was dealing with a pair of psychos from the streets.

It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, he’d always get one or two unsettling visitors in the duration of his night shift. But they’d always prowl inside the joint by themselves—they never had company—nor have they ever teamed up on him before. Briefly, he considered hovering his hand over the dusty emergency button directly under the counter.

But to his surprise, you two were just a relatively normal couple with a craving for burgers at midnight.

“Alrighty, your total comes out to 18.50,” he reads, eyes nervously darting between the two of you. “...Will that be cash or card?”

Almost in a race with each other, you both drop the lovely couple act, digging in your own pajama pants for your wallets. The anxious worker behind the counter starts taking a careful step back, afraid you two were going to pull out a weapon on him all of a sudden. God, he shouldn’t have let his guard down so easily.

He stills as you beat Bradley to it, holding out a credit card between your fingers, excitedly pointing it towards him.

Bradley begins to panic, patting down his empty pockets. “Babybear, where the fuck is my wallet?” He tilts his head down at you, a knowing look settling on his face.

As the credit card is taken from you, your mouth stretches into a wide smile, and you crane your neck backwards to look at him. “I tossed it in the back of the car when you weren’t looking,” you gleam in satisfaction.

Bradley sighs in disbelief, no wonder you were so clingy in the car.

“Is that why you were crawlin’ all over me during all the stop lights?”

“Gimme a kiss,” you suddenly demand, cutting him off.

Bradley blinks at your puckered lips.

It practically pulls him into a trance, because he’s already dipping his head down to give you a quick peck. In a strange way, it’s almost a perfect recreation of that upside-down spider man kiss scene.

Ultimately, he decides to keep the comparison to himself. If he were to mention it, you’d most likely start gushing about another movie actor.

He’s already heard enough of Ryan Gosling lately.

“I know you can open your mouth bigger than that,” you frown in his lap, readjusting the bundle of fries between your fingers.

The buckle of his undone seatbelt hits your ankle when you wriggle to find a comfortable position next.

Bradley licks the ketchup off his lip. “Yeah, you would know,” he teases, giving your butt a quick squeeze, sleazy look on his face.

Somehow, he’s the same person who was barely able to order food for himself inside the burger joint that’s currently behind his parked Bronco.

Receiving a silent look of disapproval from you, he finally clears his throat.

“Okay, someone didn’t find that funny,” he mumbles, stretching his mouth wider for you.

“A little more. Ahhh,” you sing, encouraging him to take the fistful of french fries. Under you, Bradley nearly chokes when you stuff one more in his mouth, slamming his jaw shut with finality.

“I like when your mouth is full. Less talking,” you jut your chin at him, all too pleased with the lapse of silence.

Bradley stills his chewing, raising a brow at you.

“Ugh! Stop it. Keep chewing those fries,” you complain, reaching for the large root beer resting on the dashboard behind you.

Bradley grins, mouth full of food, holding you steady when you twist your middle to grab the drink.

Swallowing down a large ball of potato, he leans forward, wrapping his lips around the straw, taking a long sip from the drink cradled between your hands.

“Are you full?” You question, watching him lean back after finishing off the remains of the beverage. You decide to set the empty cup into the driver's seat for now.

“Feeling so full, baby,” he groans, shutting his eyes as if it’ll help him digest it faster.

Pursing your lips to hold back a laugh, you place a suggestive hand over his stomach. “Yeah? Feel it all in your tummy,” your voice drops to a lower register, mimicking his dirty talk from the other day.

His eyes snap open, immediately.

The cramped Bronco, littered in empty paper bags and greasy wrapping paper jostles as he rushes to sit up tall. “You said no more jokes,” he scoffs, pinching your sides. What you said was worse than everything else he spat out tonight.

“Hey,” you whine, scratching his bloated stomach with your nails. “Don’t act all mad big guy. I know you’re about to give in anyways,” you giggle.

Bradley traces his teeth with his tongue, failing to conceal his growing smile. Because you’re right.

If you weren’t, he wouldn’t be thirty minutes away from home, favorite person in his lap and favorite cheat meal in his stomach.

join the taglist for this series here or follow me on @waklman-library and turn on notifs to be notified when i post!

tags: @s0uz4s @bradswolfe @swiftsgirlfriend @djs8891 @cherrylipgloss-baby @mannsachds @strokesofstokes @grxcisxhy-wp @anna1523 @coconut152 @goosterroose @chicomonks @pedrohoe04 @cruelmissdior @angelbabyange @shanimallina87 @ohgodnotagainn @cottagecori @maplesyurp07 @atarmychick007 @Olivia21blunt @s-u-t @hangmanscoming @geraltsaxii @wkndwlff @sammyrenae68 @bradshawed @roosterbruiser @gracelyn-writes @bubblegumbeautyqueen @angeliccks @zombiedeathsworld @blueoorchid @averyhotchner @laylaskywalker @swiftsgirlfriend @genius2050 @domeafavour505

#bradley bradshaw drabble #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster x reader #bradley rooster x y/n #bradley bradshaw fic #rooster fic #rooster imagine #rooster x reader #rooster fanfic #tgm fic #bradley bradshaw fluff #rooster fluff

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ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult · 5 months

Text

Unpredictable, Part 5-Limoreau x black!fem!reader fic

A/N: Again, thank you for all the love on this. It started off as a one-off and I'm glad people enjoy it. Please keep letting me know what you think!

Warnings: some violence, some mention of issues with eating, swearing, allusions to sensuality.

Word Count: 3.4k

Series Masterlist

For a while, all I could hear was my heart beating in my ears. Even though I could see everyone’s mouths moving, their words were muffled. If I could understand, I didn’t know if I’d be able to speak.

Was I breathing? Yes, it was just a little erratic.

Focus, Y/N, focus. There are more important things going on right now.

I held in a breath for a few seconds and then exhaled. It was fine, everything was fine. Emma was alive, Jordan and Marie were together, and I was breathing. It didn’t matter if my chest felt like it was on fire.

“Y/N!”

I jumped at the sound of my name and snapped my attention to Marie. Her eyebrows knitted together as we made eye contact. Then, I realized that they were all looking at me and swallowed.

“Um, sorry?” I uttered.

“We were just saying that we need to stop Sam from doing something to Dr. Cardoza,” Jordan explained.

I nodded slowly, willing my brain to start working. “Okay.”

“Can you sense anything about what might happen?” Emma asked.

“I can try.”

I closed my eyes but as soon as I tried to picture Sam, it felt like someone smacked a percussion mallet against my head. I flinched and started rubbing my temples.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Marie asked.

I carefully opened my eyes and straightened back up. “I can’t see anything. I think I used my powers too much because I’m getting a migraine.”

“Sorry,” Emma muttered sheepishly.

If I didn’t think my brain would throb out of my head, I would have playfully elbowed her. Instead, I massaged my temples and sat on Emma’s bed. The racing thoughts and my ability were starting to become too much for my brain to handle. If only there was a way besides alcohol or weed to shut it off for a bit.

“Maybe you should stay behind,” Marie proposed gently.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and kept my eyes on the toes of my black Prada loafers.

You should stay behind since you’re useless.

“Yeah, I don’t want to hold you all back,” I agreed. “I’m feeling nauseous anyway.”

“That’s not what I meant. I mean---” Marie paused as she stepped closer to me.

I tried to force my muscles to relax as she squatted in front of me and placed her hands on my shoulders. It was hard to know where to look since she was right in front of me.

“Your blood sugar is really low,” she stated.

“You can see that?” Emma and I unisoned.

Marie didn’t acknowledge us as her eyes glided to meet my own. Suddenly, my chest didn’t feel like it was on fire but more like it was melting. I didn’t know which one was better.

“Have you eaten anything today?” she asked.

“Yes,” I answered.

“Besides the protein bar, I gave you,” Jordan commented, striding over to stand next to Marie.

He looked like a disappointed mother and made me want to shrink further away from everyone.

“I’ve been a little busy trying to help you guys solve a mystery, find my best friend, and keep up with school and Si Chi,” I defended. “I can take care of myself; just go find Andre and Cate and they can help you stop Sam.”

Jordan scoffed. “Obviously, you can’t be trusted to do that, freshie.”

“Don’t call me that,” I bit.

My tone wasn’t supposed to be that harsh and I wasn’t sure why I even said it in the first place; it just flew out of my mouth.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I said that,” I quickly apologized.

“It’s because you’re hangry; you turn into a monster every time,” Emma said.

“No, I don’t!”

“Do I need to remind you about how I had to stop you from ripping a girl’s hair out because you didn’t have a snack?” Emma retorted.

“How old were you?” Marie asked.

“Thirteen,” Emma and I answered.

“I guess I got off pretty easy,” Jordan joked.

My eyes flew back down to my shoes as the others chuckled and I wrapped my arms around me. Seconds later, Marie’s hands gently grabbed mine and she pulled me to my feet.

“Why don’t we stop by Vought-a-Burger before this…adventure?” she suggested.

I wrinkled my nose at the thought of greasy food, but my growling stomach agreed. “But I don’t know if my powers will work.”

“We can’t leave a member of Mystery Incorporated behind,” Jordan teased.

When I finally looked up, they all looked determined and I had a feeling that even with my best efforts, I couldn’t argue with them. I could feel some relief bubbling up in the pit of my stomach.

“I call dibs on Velma,” I managed.

Honestly, it would have been nice to have some space from Jordan and Marie so I could process my thoughts. They swirled around my brain like a tornado and destroyed everything in their path. The cheeseburger and fries that I had eased some of it, but I was still functioning at about half my capacity.

It didn’t help that every time I blinked, the image of Jordan and Marie kissing flooded my brain. They were so passionate that I almost felt bad for interrupting. They both held each other like they were afraid that the other would disappear if they didn’t. I thought that kind of thing only existed in movies but I guessed they were the lucky ones. It was so stupid that I was so close to buying into Emma’s delusion; they obviously didn’t like me. Plus, I’d wanted them to like each other since their rivalry started so I got what I wanted.

Didn’t I?

“What?” Emma asked.

I jumped in her lap, realizing that I was in the back of Andre’s car. The sun was almost down, and I could hardly see any of the trees or houses we passed on either side of the road. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that Marie and Jordan seemed to be trying very hard not to touch each other.

“Nothing, sorry,” I muttered back.

“So, what are Sam’s powers again?” Jordan asked.

“He’s crazy strong; it was really hard to take him down that one time,” Andre replied.

“He’s also basically indestructible. I saw him rip off so many guards’ heads in the Woods,” Emma added.

“Why do you sound like you enjoyed it?” I asked.

“I didn’t,” she insisted. “It was impressive, though.”

I laughed but it was hollower than my usual laugh, but no one would notice.

“So, he’s basically like Jordan’s male form,” Marie concluded.

“Great, chemically imbalanced and strong; perfect combination,” Cate dryly stated from the front.

“And what’s our plan of attack?” Andre asked.

“Well, we need Cardoza alive if we’re going to find out anything else about the Woods and we also need Sam alive as a witness,” I observed.

“So, we should detain Sam and keep Dr. Cardoza safe,” Marie concluded.

“And it sounds like it will take all of us to do that,” Jordan added.

I shrugged and leaned back against Emma. “Well, not all of us.”

Marie’s hand nudged mine. “Hey, are you still not feeling okay?”

“I’m feeling better but with how you all described Sam, I’m not a good match, especially not like this,” I replied.

“Then you can help me get Dr. Cardoza and his family out of the house,” Cate offered.

“Okay.”

“And let me try to talk to Sam before we do anything…violent; we connected,” Emma insisted.

“Emma has a boyfriend,” I sang.

“Shut up!”

“You first!”

A few minutes later, Andre parked around the corner from Dr. Cardoza’s house. He lived in a nice neighborhood where the neighbors were spread out enough that they would not notice six strangers sneaking through greenery to reach the targeted house. Andre led the group with Jordan not too far behind him and Emma and Marie in the middle. Somehow, Cate and I took up the rear and I chuckled.

“If this was a horror movie, we’d be screwed,” I commented.

“No, if anything, we’d be the reason everyone lives because we would know the killer or the demon or whatever was coming,” Cate playfully refuted. “I know this is kind of shitty timing but what’s going on with you?”

I hesitated. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re zoning out way more than usual and even though you love solving crimes and mysteries in class, you’re acting like we’re holding you hostage.”

Sometimes, I thought Cate didn’t need her powers; she was already super observant.

“I said I wasn’t feeling well earlier but they all insisted that I come along,” I explained.

“‘They’ as in Emma, Jordan, and Marie?” she asked.

I nodded. “I tried to stay behind but they wouldn’t let me.”

“So, what happened with Jordan and Marie?”

I balked. “What makes you think this has anything to do with them?”

Cate paused in her steps and arched an eyebrow. “I don’t have to be a mind reader to know that something’s up with you three. You’re all acting super tense and it’s weirding me out.”

As quickly and quietly as I could, I explained everything that happened once Emma and I got back to her dorm. Cate nodded and her expression barely changed as I spoke.

“It’s okay to be jealous, Y/N,” Cate concluded.

“But I’m not jealous; there’s nothing to be jealous of. They’re my friends and now they’re…something else, with each other, and that one time I kissed Jordan doesn’t count---” “What?” Cate exclaimed.

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is we’re supposed to be helping a crooked doctor not be pulverized by Luke’s little brother.” “Oh no, it matters. I need context if I’m going to help you.”

“It was during a sparring match; I had a vision it would help me win and it did, happy?”

“Very; you’re making progress out of your denial. Now, if you would admit that you’re jealous, you’d be even better.”

Before I could argue that I wasn’t jealous, we’d reached the front door. Andre signaled us to be quiet, which made Jordan roll his eyes, and pushed the door open. As soon as we walked it, the scent of homemade pasta and general coziness cloaked us. The house was nice and modern but eerily quiet. When we made it to the foyer, Andre signaled for us to split up.

“Who made you the leader?” Jordan hissed.

“Do you have a better idea?” Andre quietly shot back.

As they were about to continue arguing, someone started shouting from another room. We ended up splitting up, Cate, Emma, and me in one group and Jordan, Andre, and Marie in the other. After some navigating, we all ended up in the kitchen, where Dr. Cardoza and his family were cowering under Sam’s glare. In person, he was much taller and more intimidating. His glare was fiery and his jaws were clenched so tight I wondered if he broke skin.

“Sam, I’m Andre, I knew your brother, Luke, and I know he wouldn’t want you to do this,” Andre implored, calmly approaching Sam from one side.

Sam whirled around towards Andre. “I know you, you caught me when I escaped!” Andre pressed his hand to his chest. “I’m sorry about that, man, I am. I wouldn’t have done that if I knew what was going on.”

“Let us help you,” Cate added.

“Help me, how can you help me? They’ll just send me back there!” Sam turned back to Dr. Cardoza. “No, the only person who can help me is dead and the only thing that can help me stay away from the Woods is if he is dead.”

“Sam, don’t do this!” Emma pleaded.

Sam paused for a second and the look he gave her was chilling. It wasn’t scary but it was like he had given up in a way.

“Don’t try to get in the way, Emma,” he warned.

“But if he dies, they’ll send you back,” I blurted out.

His eyes snapped to mine and I tried to steady myself.

“She’s right, Sam, they’ll send you back. I can help you too,” Dr. Cardoza added.

“SHUT UP!” Sam roared.

I flinched at the noise. “The only way you win is to let him live. You won’t like it but you can’t kill everyone.”

“I can get pretty close.”

At the same time Sam began approaching Dr. Cardoza and his family, Andre started using his powers to slow him down. The screech of his shoes against the wooden floor grated my ears but all I could do was watch as Sam faced Andre and shoved him with so much force that he went flying into another room.

Cate grabbing my wrist snapped me out of my fog and I let her drag me to the other side of the kitchen island, where Dr. Cardoza and his family were still in shock. Cate grabbed Dr. Cardoza’s arm.

“Come with us if you don’t want your face punched in,” she instructed.

Dr. Cardoza and his partner seemed to hesitate but their daughter stepped towards me.

“We don’t have a lot of time!” I insisted.

The two men shared a glance before following Cate and I out of the kitchen, through some hallways, and outside.

“Stay in whatever motel or hotel you can get to and drive fast,” Cate panted, her breath visible in the cool air.

The family agreed and Dr. Cardoza’s partner started helping their daughter into the car while Dr. Cardoza faced us.

“I don’t know how we can thank you for saving us,” he expressed, his voice choked.

“Don’t get killed,” Cate offered.

He nodded and as quickly as he could, he scrambled into the car and Cate and I watched them speed down the road.

“Well, that part went well,” I noted.

Cate nodded. “Hopefully, they’ll keep a low profile.”

Then, there was a loud crash inside. As Cate and I ran back into the house, there were several more crashes and destructive sounds. I thought my feet moved quicker than they probably did in reality but when I finally got to the kitchen, it wasn’t good. Andre was still passed out on the living room floor and Marie had long blood tendrils wrapped around Sam’s ankles as he tried to approach Jordan. Sam looked like a rabid animal as he fought to move and snatched at the blood around him. Somehow, he managed to fling it off and flung Marie across the room as well.

She landed with a yelp and I instantly bolted forward. Once I reached Marie’s side, I started looking her over.

“Are you okay? Is anything broken?” I rambled.

“I’m fine. Y/N!”

Her exclamation came a little late as my head jerked back violently and I was pulled to my feet. The pain was so distracting that it took a few seconds for me to recognize Sam was holding me by a handful of braids.

“You helped them leave,” he stated.

My mind raced for anything to get him to let go of me. This was different from any other spar I was in; in those situations, it was clear that the other person wasn’t going to fatally hurt me and that it was all practice. With Sam, I was positive he would kill me if he could. We never talked about what to do in these situations.

“You were going to hurt the family too…they have nothing to do with this,” I gasped.

Sam tightened his already iron grip and I yelped. “Don’t do that; you’re not real!” “Let her go, Sam,” Jordan rasped.

I glanced up and noticed him slowly approaching Sam from behind. Jordan’s eyes were darker than usual and trained on Sam. His jaw tightened and something strange ran up the back of my neck.

“Don’t hurt him,” I pleaded.

“We said we wouldn’t kill him. Anyone can get hurt in a fight,” Jordan said, eyes never leaving Sam.

Desperately, my hands clawed at Sam’s but he didn’t move. Instead, he turned his head towards Jordan and challenged him with his eyes.

“Oh, do you like her or something?”

Jordan seemed to hesitate and I frowned at his response. Jordan never cracked under pressure, especially not when it came to fights.

Then, blood splattered across Sam’s face and he released me with a shout. My knees stung as I hit the ground and I scrambled onto my feet, narrowly running into Marie, who pulled me towards the dining room. There, Cate was standing in front of the table, watching the scene stunned while Emma ran over to us.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Yeah, but my head’s really sore.” I turned to Marie and thanked her.

“You’re welcome,” she responded.

We couldn’t talk as Jordan and Sam began struggling. They were both basically at a standstill and holding each other off, both their feet digging into the floor. After a few seconds, Sam yelled and started pushing Jordan, creating cracks under his feet. Then, Jordan shifted, slipped from Sam’s grip, and got behind him. Before Sam could turn, she sent an energy blast at him that knocked him through the glass door leading to the backyard.

Jordan ran after him, and Marie and I trailed after her. Sam was writhing on the grass holding his side but it was easy to tell that he could get back to fighting if he wanted to. A moment later, Andre limped outside and stood next to me.

“Okay, what do we do now?” he asked.

“He’s not even getting tired,” Jordan spat.

“If Cate can get close enough, she could get him to calm down,” I breathed. “Where did she go?”

Before anyone could answer, we were interrupted by the ground shaking beneath us. All we needed was an earthquake to cap this perfect night. However, it wasn’t a natural disaster causing the ground to shake, it was Emma. She emerged from the house about nine feet tall and she moved slowly towards Sam.

“Emma?” Marie asked.

“You can get big?” I chimed.

“Can we talk about this later?” Emma voiced.

In three steps, she stepped over the four of us, reached Sam, and carefully pinned him to the ground. Sam instantly began wriggling under her grip.

“Let me go!” he roared.

“No, Sam, you’re just gonna hurt yourself and other people.” Emma looked over at us. “We need to---”

Waking up after going out was always a strange experience. Sometimes, I felt like I’d been poisoned and stayed in bed all day. Other times, I woke up sleeping next to one of my Si Chi sisters or a friend in someone else’s dorm or house. That day was different since I was rudely awakened from a deep sleep.

“Shit, sorry!” a male voice called before a door slammed closed.

The sheets shifted around me, and I groaned as I started to tug them back over me, refusing to open my eyes. My body felt much heavier than usual and as I shifted, my leg touched something warm and soft. It almost felt like someone else’s leg and that guy who left sounded like Andre.

My mind was still halfway in a dream as my eyes blinked open. It felt like my body was fighting between consciousness and unconsciousness and unconsciousness was so close to winning. At some point in my blinking, I noticed that the sheets wrapped around me were gray.

Weird, I thought, mine are powder blue.

“Y/N, wake up,” a feminine voice urged.

“Five more minutes,” I whined.

The owner of the voice started softly pushing my back and their hand warmed up my back.

Wait, their hand was touching my bare back.

I bolted upright, the sheets falling into my lap. My eyes scanned the room and instead of pristine Etsy printouts and tasteful home décor accenting ivory walls, the off-white walls were peeling and covered in graffiti. My breathing was heavy as I glanced to my left and found Marie sheepishly looking at me, holding the sheets up to her chest.

We didn’t, we couldn’t have. This made no sense; we barely spoke since…since something. It felt like there was a gap in my brain but all I knew was that this didn’t quite feel right. But also, my heart skipped a beat when our eyes met. Then, my legs and everything else below my waist suddenly felt sore, and the more I thought about it, so did my chest and neck.

“Morning, freshie,” Jordan sang.

I gasped and my head snapped to the right. They were in their feminine form and eyeing me in a way that was not helping my breathing. When their eyes trailed down, I remembered my chest was exposed and quickly yanked the sheets up to my chin.

What the hell happened last night?

#black!reader #jordan li x reader #gen v x reader #limoreau x reader #marie moreau x reader

202 notes · View notes

bbyquokka · 1 year

Text

Tattoos and sex

→ PAIRING: Bang Chan x fem!reader

→ GENRE: idol!au | mua!au | fluff | smut — MDNI!

→ SYNOPSIS: Being the only MUA that can cover up chan's intimate tattoo, one thing led to another, however, the fun didnt stop there.

→ WORDS: 7k ~ (7097)

→ requested by: 💀👑 | requests are currently: closed!

Feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

→ m.list — → you can also read it on my ao3

Clutching the red plastic tray, you walk up the array of food. It's lunch time which means you're on a break. The canteen is slowly but surely filling up with numerous people and idols - some you recognise and some you don't.

Salads, dressing, meats, tofu, the selection of food is overwhelming but also good considering the cooks cater to everyone and everything.

You settle on piling your plate up with something small and light, noticing that you're not terribly hungry but need something to eat to carry on functioning these last hours of your shift. You grab the utensils and a small, ice cold bottle of water before taking a seat.

You look around as you munch on your food, idols sitting with their group members, managers sitting with other managers. Words buzzing around the hall, idle chit-chat here and there.

You rub your shoulder, giving yourself a massage to relieve yourself of this harsh knot you didn't know you had until now - until you had time to relax.

“Need a hand, pup?” A soft voice behind you, tray plated high with food situating beside you.

“Mhm. If you're offering.” You hum.

“Anything for my darling.” You flush pink, feeling strong hands on your shoulders, fingers digging deep in the muscle to relieve you of your pain.

“You two are so sickeningly sweet.” You laugh, watching Changbin sit opposite you. His tray stacked with a variety of meats and salad, protein shake to accommodate.

“Are you exercising after?” You nod your head at the shake. Changbin nods.

“Planning to. That's if we have enough time.”

“Y'all busy?”

“You could say that.” You hum as a response, feeling yourself relax.

“Better pup?” Chan asks softly, rubbing your shoulders.

“Mhm, much." You smile softly at him, watching him sit beside you.

“I can do a more in depth massage once we're home, if you get what I mean.” Chan smirks, wiggling his brows seductively. You slap his tattooed bicep gently, flushing pink.

“I take back what I said about you two being sweet.” Changbin pulls a face, causing you to laugh softly.

“Sorry Binnie.” He laughs, waving his hand as if to say ‘It's whatever’ “How's the new tattoo healing up?”

Changbin looks at his fresh tattoo, a simple design of a tattooed dweakki on his arm, surrounded by various other tattoos scattered here and there.

“It's healing at least. Takes time, y'know.” You hum as a response, munching on your food. Chan's hand rests on your thigh, occasionally stroking it.

“How did Jisung manage with the compass tat?” Changbin and Chan both give each other knowing looks, before laughing softly.

“He urm, complained a lot.” Chan laughs softly.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. I think where it's placed, it hurt twice as much for him.”

“We did try and tell him it would hurt, but did he listen? Nope.” Chan sighs, shaking his head before letting out a small chuckle.

“When does Sungie ever listen?” You pip in, raising a brow.

“True.” Changbin says with a mouthful of food. “You do have to tell him several times to do the simplest of things.”

Chan nods his head and hums, agreeing with Changbin. His hand squeezes your thigh softly, making you feel butterflies in your stomach. His hand is warm, soft yet coarse.

The hands of a working man.

“You can't deny though.” You begin, swallowing your food, “He does make some good music. Lyrically, he is a genius.”

“Ya think?” Chan puts down his utensils, attention all on you. You nod, looking at him.

“Yes. You could say I have a few favourite songs that happen to be Sungies.”

“You mean, I'm not just your number one fave?! You have more?!” Chan pouts, hand over his heart as he sniffs. You roll your eyes, taking his hand in yours. You play with his tattooed fingers, slowly tracing the small patterns of hearts, diamonds and words.

A few of his nails coated in black polish, the remaining bare with a simple black design that he drew himself. His ring finger holding a promise ring you gave him months ago.

“You'll always be my favourite, Channie. You know that.” You pout, preoccupied with his hands.

“Mhm.” He hums, watching you trace the patterns. He gently intertwined his fingers with yours, your hands looking tiny beside his. You blush, looking up at him to see his eyes sparkling and laced with love and admiration for you.

“My beautiful pup.” He hums, cupping your chin gently. You flush pink watching the space between you both lessen as Chan leans in.

You close your eyes and pucker your awaiting lips. Just as Chan becomes close to pressing his plump lips against yours, you both get interrupted by Jisung.

“Ew! Can't you guys do that elsewhere?! I'd like to keep my lunch in my stomach, thank you very much.”

“Cockblock.” You mumble loud enough for Chan to hear. He chuckles and nudges your side with his elbow, winking at you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Y/N! Do you have some concealer?”

“Y/N, I need a blush brush, I don't know where mine is! ”

“Y/N, what lipstick shade are we doing?”

You take a deep breath, pinching the bridge of your nose. You took the liberty of hiding in the bathroom, needing a few minutes. You didn't think you could get sick of hearing your name – yet here you are.

“I'm seriously considering changing my name.” You mumble to yourself, pulling your phone out of your pocket.

Your sleeves rolled up to your elbows, hair scrapped in an unkempt messy bun. A strap around your waist with a pocket full of your makeup tools.

“Three forty.” You sigh. “I still have several hours left until this hectic shift is over.”

It's the biggest con of the year – kcon. People travel from all over the world just to see their favourite group/idol perform. You love kcon, however, being a make-up artist and the head in charge, it's a stressful day.

Deciding that you have been hiding for long enough, you push yourself up to your feet and walk out, preparing yourself for another game of “Where's this?” and “Where's that?”

You walk up to the idol who's make-up you were currently doing before you had to excuse yourself. Maintaining your professionalism, you smile politely as you take out your tools.

“So sorry for leaving you like this! Now, where were we?” The idol politely smiles at you, claiming that they understand. They even teased you, saying they would keep your ‘absence’ a secret. You both laugh and joke, make small talk about this and that.

Your colleagues continue to ask you twenty questions, that distinct pinch slowly returning between your brows.

“Just a few more hours. You can do this, y/n!” you tell yourself, taking slow, deep breaths. You resume your task of covering up the idols tattoos that situate on his arm. You, plus one other MUA, are the only two who are qualified enough to do tattoo cover ups as well as the typical makeup.

As you apply the final touches, a colleague knocks on the door before walking in.

“Ah! There you are, y/n!” You stand up straight, gently putting your brushes down as you look at your colleague.

“Oh, hi! What's up?”

“Uh, well–” They start. You tilt your head to the side, watching their cheeks flush pink. They shift on their feet, hands clasped together.

It felt… Awkward.

“You know that you and Chan are together.” You hum.

“Yes, have been for a couple of years now.”

“Uh, yeah! So uh, you know how I do skz make up and you do others even though you want to do skz.”

“Mhm.”

“And you know how Chan has that crazy tattoo that travels to his – uh… area.” You giggle softly to yourself, humming.

“I do indeed, darling.”

“Well, uh. His stage outfits is crop tops and well, his tattoos need covering and–”

“And you don't feel comfortable covering it so need me to?” You interrupted, voice soft and understanding.

“Yeah. I don't feel comfortable covering up someone else's boyfriend's intimate tattoo.”

“I totally understand! Just give me a second to grab some extra things and I'll be over in about ten minutes.” Your colleague grins, thanking you before dashing out.

You collect fresh, new tools before quickly explaining to a colleague that you will next door is they need anything - which you hope they don't

You walk out of the room, knocking on the next door before walking inside. Compared to the room your currently working in, skz's dressing room is much more calmer.

“Oh, hey y/n!” Felix walks out topless. His arms decorated in various small tattoos, the same compass laying dormant on his neck. His hair dyed black, the hair stylist giving Felix bangs that are long enough to cover his eyes. He munches on some bread, his lips turning upwards in a big grin.

“Hey Lixie!! Looking good as always.” You wink, noticing how defined his body looks.

“Oh please! This is nothing.” Felix blushes softly, brushing off your compliment. “You, however, look stunning!”

You raise a brow as you look in the mirror then back at Felix.

“I appreciate you being polite Felix, but uh, I've looked better.” You scoff. Felix rolls his eyes, chewing the last of his bread. You lick your lips, stomach growling.

You've been so busy, you haven't realised how hungry you are until now.

“Are you hungry?” Felix asks, frowning. You nod slowly. “Come, I'll bring you to our little snack tray. Take something.”

“Oh, you really don't have t–”

“Shut up, y/n and take something.” Felix laughs heartily, grabbing your hand and dragging you to the snack tray.

Bags of fruits and nuts, bread, crisps, sweets and chocolate. You look around, struggling to pick. As you reach out to pick the last bread, a tattooed hand comes into view, snatching it away.

A hand you all know too well.

“Chan!!” You whine, pouting. He laughs softly, opening up the packet and taking a bite out of the bread. You glare at him, failing to notice that he's in nothing but his stage pants and shoes. His hair straight, make-up to perfection. A wolf sleeve on one arm, various shapes and pictures on the other – his ‘memorial arm’ he likes to call it purely because it's decorated in things that remind him of the things and people he loves the most.

The side of Chan's body is decorated in various flowers, leaves and your favourite bird, trailing down his V lines to his intimate area. This tattoo is his most precious and valued tattoo because it reminds him of you. It's your favourite flowers and your favourite bird. With Chan being an idol, he is away most of the time, meaning you two get to spend little to no time together.

He got the tattoo on a whim. Promotions finished, it's holiday season and you both finally got to spend time together. The day he got the tattoo, he lied to you in the sense of him claiming he had ‘errands’ to run, and by ‘errands’, he meant getting the tattoo.

You were shocked when you saw it, but overwhelmed that Chan would do something like this for someone like you. He said he had been planning the tattoo for a long time, designing it and putting it together piece by piece. When you asked him why he got it so big, he replied in his typical, cheeky way;

“Because you own me.”

“There's plenty more food in the tray, pup!” You scowl at him, eyes turning into thin slits. Your gaze could burn holes into him right now. He smirks, teasingly taking a bite out of the bread, the very bread you wanted.

“But I wanted that!!” You point to it. Chan looks at it, then at you and gasps.

“Really? Oh no!”

“Chan!!!” You whine, becoming close to tears. You go to snatch the bread out of his hand, failing when he puts it out of reach in the form of him raising his hand up high.

“Now you're being an asshole.” You mumble.

“Yeah, c'mon hyung. Don't be a dick.” Seungmin laughs, clearly enjoying the show.

“Not being a dick, but she can have it if she begs.” Chan smirks. You flush pink, swallowing thickly.

“H-Have what?”

“You know–” Chan leans in, his hot breath fanning against the shell of your ear. Your heart thumps against your chest, threatening to burst free. “The bread.”

You whine, slapping his bare pec as he laughs.

“You're an asshole, Bang Chan!”

“Ohh! She used your full name, Hyung. You're in trouble.” Minho pipes in.

“Oh please, lino. My lil pup couldn't punish me if she tries. I know all the places that make her squirm and wiggle beneath me. She'll succumb to me in less than 5 minutes.”

Your mouth hangs open, rapid blinking at your words gets lodged in your throat. A cocky smirk plastered on Chan's face as he takes a bite out of the long forgotten bread.

“Pft. Cat got your tongue, y/n?” Minho laughs.

“I–” You stutter.

“I rest my case.” Chan says in a sing-song voice, winking at you. With your words still lodged in your throat, brain failing to come to terms, you settle on slapping Chan's bare pec once again.

“Ouch!” Chan pouts, rubbing the spot where you slapped.

“Fuck you.” You mumble, glaring at him.

“You wish.”

“Chan!!” You whine, groaning and kicking your head back. “Stop!! I came here to cover up your tattoo, not to be teased.”

“Right right. But you love it, pup.”

“You're such a menace.” You whine. Chan winks, humming in acknowledgement. He finishes the bread, licking his lips in a teasing way.

“That was delicious!” Chan rubs his stomach, acting like he's just had the best meal in the world.

“Just you wait, Chan. Just you wait.” You frown, making Chan laugh softly.

“I'm sorry pup. Am I teasing you too much?” Chan coos, stroking your cheek gently. You hum as a response. “Want me to make it up to you? Show you how sorry I am?”

“Later. I'm still on the clock and you, Mr, need that tattoo covering.” You gesture towards his tattoo, to which Chan sighs and rolls his eyes at.

“I don't understand why I have to cover it.” He mumbles, walking to a separate room to allow you both more privacy. You follow him, laughing softly.

“You knew this when you got it, babe.”

“Mhm. If the stylists just didn't put me in crop tops 24/7, then I wouldn't have to have it covered.” Chan walks into the room, you following behind. You close the door, locking it purely for the purpose of saving yourself and the unfortunate soul who decides to walk in, some embarrassment.

“I don't mind.” You mumble. “Just means I get to see your well defined body.” You wink, trailing your hand slowly down his chest and abs.

Now it's his turn to blush. His soft, milky skin turning a rose colour, breath hitching in his throat as he watches your hand.

“Pup…” He mumbles.

“Mhm?” You cock an eyebrow, finger hooking on the belt loop of his stage pants. You tug at them indicating you want off.

“You need to either lower or remove these Chan so I can cover up your tat.” Chan groans, rolling his eyes as he unbuttons and unzips his pants.

He drops them half way down to his thighs, pulling his boxer shorts low enough for his full tattoo to show. You hum in contentment, kneeling down as you grab your concealing kit.

Kneeling to the ground, you become eye level with his penis. You swallow, ignoring how you can imagine his length and size just from the bulge. “Act professional y/n. you're still on the job!”

His boxer shorts are low enough that his v lines are visible, some of his perfectly trimmed pubic hair peeking out from the waistband. You load up a brush with some concealer, carefully dabbing it on his tattoo. You soon become fixated on getting your job done, lips parting due to concentrating.

Chan watches you, watches you do your magic. He's impressed and proud of you for being able to do something like this. His heart swells with love and admiration for you, a warm smile pulling up on the corner of his lips.

The bristles of the brush tickle him slightly, goose bumps rising to the surface of his skin as you dab and swipe the brush. You place a hand on his muscular thigh, your lips staying parted.

Chan's bottom lip gets caught in between his teeth. He can feel your hot breath fanning against the material of his boxer shorts, hitting his cock. He squirms a little to which you frown at.

“Channie, stay still.” You pout.

“Sorry…” He whispers. Minutes went by painfully slowly. Chan has to think of things that turn him off in order to stop his blood from flowing down south - but to no avail.

The longer time went on, the more he thought. He checks out the position you're in, swallowing as his mind taking him back to all those times he's fucked your cute little face raw, hands planted firmly on his thighs, tears spilling down your cheeks slowly becoming mixed with the cascade of drool.

Your eyes telling him, begging him to continue, to have his way with you.

“Chan…” You whisper. Your voice brings him out of his train of thought. Then, did he realise that you had stopped what you were doing, hand hovering in the air.

“What's up pup? Why did you stop?”

“Uh, C-Chan, you're –” You place your brush down, swallowing thickly, eyes fixated.

Instead of acting all embarrassed and shy about it, he smirks, cupping his own erection and squeezing. You let out a small whimper, pressing your lips together in a thin line. You feel your core throb, lust and excitement pooling in the pit of your stomach.

“Like what you see, pup?” Chan groans, his tendons visible as he rubs and squeezes his own cock.

“Y-Yes.” You whisper, watching the way his hands move, listening to every soft groan and grunt fall past his lips.

“Want a taste?” He purrs. You swallow thickly feeling like you're under some sort of spell just from those three words.

“Yes.” You shakily whisper. He hooks his thumbs under the waistband of his boxer shorts, pulling them down and letting them rest halfway down his thighs.

Your heart beats against your ribcage hard, your wetness coating the material of your panties. His hard cock springs free before standing proud in front of your face.

You gently blow on it, causing it to twitch. You giggle, watching his pre-cum slowly trail down his length.

You wrap your hand around the base, fingers barely making it all the way around due to his thickness. Chan grunts, loving how small your hands look around him. You look up at him with lust filled eyes, tongue darting out to moisten your lips.

“Can't have you going out on stage like this, can we?” You purr as you slowly pump his length. Chan hums softly, tilting his head to the side as he watches.

“What are you going to do about it, pup?”

“Whatever you want.” You press your tongue flat against his tip, swiping some of his pre-cum onto your tongue. Chan grunts, hips bucking at the contact. You giggle at his reaction, settling on giving kitten licks on his cockhead.

You pump him at a reasonable pace, soft hums and grunts from the man standing before you cause goose bumps to rise on the surface of your skin. His skin is hot to the touch, his veins protruding along the sides of his length.

“C'mon pup. I know you can do better than that.” Chan hums, his thumb stroking your cheek. You look up at him through your lashes as you wrap your lips around his cockhead. Chan let's out a throaty grunt, your tongue swirling along his cockhead before giving him soft sucks.

With each grunt and moan, it encourages you more and more. You push your head further down, trapping more of his length inside your warm and wet mouth. You hum, closing your eyes as you manage to stuff half his length in your mouth.

Due to his thickness, the corners of your mouth burn and sting from the stretch. You focus on sucking Chan the way he likes it, the way that makes him moan like a whore. You pump what your mouth fails to reach, your saliva coating his length well.

You pull away for a split second, gathering some saliva in your mouth before spitting on his cock. You pump him fast, using your saliva as lube before reinserting his cock back into your mouth.

“F-Fuck pup. You suck cock so well.” Chan grunts, his toes curling inside his shoes. He reaches down, holding the side of your head still.

You know what this means.

You still your movements, hands placing on his thighs as he pushes his cock further into your mouth. You close your eyes tightly, feeling the ability to breath becoming a struggle, your gag reflex activating due to his cock reaching down your throat.

“Just take it like the good girl you are.” Chan purrs, watching his cock slowly disappearing down your throat. Tears stream down your cheeks, gag reflex activating several times making saliva accumulate and pool in your mouth.

The tip of your nose hits his pubic area, a hum of contentment coming from Chan as he grips the side of your head

“Let me use you pup. Let me use you for my own satisfaction and I promise, I will treat you like a queen later on.”

You whimper the best you could, thighs rubbing together for some sort of friction. Your panties are soaked with your juices by now, your body hot and sweaty as lust and hormones fill the air around you.

Chan slowly and cautiously thrusts his hips, careful not to hurt you at first and to test the waters. You dig your nails into his thighs, looking up at him with tears in your eyes. Chan shivers, growling as he becomes fixated on your face.

“Such a pretty sight.” His hips pick up in speed and power, his cock rubbing your mouth and throat in a delicious way. Drool bubbles from the corners of your mouth, spilling down your chin as your tears fall down your cheek, mixing together with your drool.

“Shit.” Chan grunts, his movements becoming faster and powerful. You swallow in an attempt to swallow the sea of saliva. You fail, deciding on letting it just spill. As you swallow, your throat clenches around Chan, squeezing his length in a delicious way.

Your throat starts to feel sore from the continuous abuse from his length, jaw feeling slack and knees sore, however, you don't mind. You love this, love being used by Chan. It excites you to no end knowing that you're the reason Chan is losing all sense of self.

His cock twitches, pleasure rushing through his body and veins. He kicks his head back, panting and moaning as he fucks your face raw. You slowly start to feel dizzy with lust, desperation kicking in.

Chan's cock twitches, a peripheral of curses and moans leave his lips as he struggles to maintain his composure. The knot in the pit of his stomach tightening with each thrust.

“I'm going to cum down your throat and you are going to swallow every last drop.” Chan growls, looking down at your tear and drool stained face. Your lashes flutter, a soft whine emitting from your stuffed mouth.

“That's my girl.” His body tingles, balls becoming tighter with each thrust, cock twitching endlessly. You help him reach his orgasm by swallowing him, as well as wrapping your tongue around his cock before flattening it to allow him to reach further - if that's even possible at this point

“Fuck fuck fuck!” Chan pants erratically. Your eyes squeeze shut as he halts his movements. You feel his cock twitch, hot ropes of cum shooting down your throat. You swallow some of it as Chan pulls his cock out of your mouth.

You look up at him, giggling and opening your mouth wide to reveal the leftover cum you purposefully failed to swallow. Chan grunt as he kneels down. He shoves his tongue into your mouth making you whimper against his lips.

Your tongues collide as Chan collects your saliva and his cum on his own tongue, tasting the salty taste of himself. He pulls away, a smug look on his face as he looks down at your dazed and stained face.

“For being such a good girl, I'm going to treat you real good later.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“C-Chan, wait.” You whimper.

“No.” He simply replies. He picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, walking to the bedroom where he throws you on the mattress.

You softly grunt, leaning up on your elbows as Chan kneels between your legs. His eyes dark with lust, hands shaking as adrenaline and hormones pump through his veins.

Animalist growls erupt from his throat as he grabs your work shirt. He rips it open, the button popping and flying across the room.

“C-Chan.” You whisper, swallowing thickly as he grabs your breast firmly in his hand from over your bra.

“Since the blowjob, I haven't stopped thinking about you. That perfect mouth of yours, your cute adorable moans. Do you know how much willpower it took for me to not get hard, to calm myself down?!”

You cheekily grin, fluttering your lashes innocently. “But Chan, you wanted me to suck your cock. Did I look pretty for you? With your cock between my lips?”

He shivers, squeezing your breast roughly. “Don't test me, pup. I'm already hungry for you.” He leans in close, breath fanning against the shell of your ear. “And the night is still young.”

You shiver, allowing him to take off your shirt. His lips attack the skin of your neck, teeth sinking and nipping at the skin as he expertly unclasps your bra with one hand. He hastily unbuttons your jeans, pulling them down your legs before they soon join the rest of your clothing.

You whimper, watching Chan eye your body.

“Fuck.” He shakily whispers. He dips his head low, kissing the valley between your breasts as he squeezes both your breasts. His lips trail to the left, tongue finding your hard nipple.

With the tip of his tongue, he flicks it over the sensitive nub, causing you to shiver and whimper his name. He hums in satisfaction, removing the remainder of his clothes until he is just in his boxer shorts.

He captures your nipple in between his teeth, nibbling and biting it before harshly sucking. His tongue swirls around your nipple, his fingers taking the right one to tug and roll it between his fingers.

You bury your fingers into his hair, hips bucking upwards to meet him in a desperate attempt to grind on him or just to simply feel friction.

“Such a desperate pup.” Chan tsk before kissing and sucking the skin of your breast making sure to leave purple marks.

“C-Chan…” You whine pathetically, tugging at his hair by the roots.

“Listen to yourself, you want me that bad huh?”

“Y-Yes! I need you so bad Chan. I need to feel you deep inside me.” You whimper, pathetically begging. Chan shivers at your words.

“Good things come to those who wait, pup.” He trails his lips down from your breasts to your stomach, kissing along the waistband of your panties. He pulls down your panties slowly, throwing them on the floor before situationing himself comfortable between them.

He groans deeply, feeling his cock twitch in his boxer shorts as he comes face to face with your glistening core. It throbs, silently begging for something to enter, to feel full and euphoric. He becomes dizzy at your scent and sight, licking his lips animalistically.

“My gosh, pup.” He whispers. You flush red, feeling embarrassed about how wet and needy you are. Your juices coat your folds, much to Chan's pleasure.

He leans in, tongue instantly pressing against your aching clit. Your back arches as you feel him swipe his from your entrance to your clit, repeating the process several times. Your taste coats his tongue causing him to shiver and bask in the flavour.

“You taste delicious, y/n. fuck, in addicted to you.” His voice is shaky, adrenaline and hormones on high alert causing him to feel dizzy and shaky. He laps at your entrance, humming at the taste of you. His tongue poking your entrance, daring to enter. “I have a better idea.”

He moves away causing you to watch him, brows pinching together. He lays flat on his back looking at you and smirking.

“Sit on my face.”

Those four magical words charmed you, your body automatically moving on its own. You shuffle to your face, legs either side as he holds onto your thighs. Your dripping cunt inches from his mouth as he licks his lips, your scent causing him to go dizzy.

You cautiously sit on his face, whimper when you feel his tongue flat on your clit. You hover, not wanting to put all your pressure on Chan because you don't want to hurt him in any way possible - however, Chan isn't satisfied.

“I said, sit on my face!” He growls. You whimper loudly, feeling his hands cup your ass and squeezing harshly.

“Yes sir.” You whisper, obeying him as you sit properly on him.

“Good girl.” He hums before sucking on your clit straight away. You moan his name loudly, pleasure rushing down your spine. As he sucks and licks your sensitive bundle of nerves, you take liberty in gliding your hands up your stomach to cup your own breasts.

You tilt your head back, moaning Chan's name repeatedly as you knead your own breasts, occasionally rolling and tugging at your own nipple.

You feel Chan's tongue lap at your entrance greedily, desperately trying to catch every drop of your essence as his tattooed hands squeeze and part your ass cheeks in the process.

“Fuck, Chan.” You shakily breath out, running your fingers through his curls. His tongue effortlessly enters inside, his tongue caressing your walls.

“C-Channie…” A simple hum can be heard from the man below you. You look down at him, his piercing, lust blown eyes meeting yours causing you to shiver.

Before your brain could register what you were doing, your hips started to move on their own, the tip of Chan's nose nudging and rubbing your clit as you grind effortlessly on his face.

Normally, Chan would punish you for this because he didn't give you permission to do so, however, seeing you look so ethereal to him. Your head kicked back, fingers tugging and pinching your nipples, lips parted as your hips move erratically, desperate for release - it's enough to make him blow in his own underwear.

“Chan, fuck! Good, so good!” You cry out. One hand releases from your ass cheeks in order for him to pull his cock out of his underwear. He pumps himself slowly, wanting to savour the moment. He uses his own thumb to rub the tip of his cock, smearing his pre-cum around which makes his own hips buck.

Pressure builds up in the lower half of your stomach, your mind becoming foggy with lust. All you want is Chan, all you need is Chan. He's plaguing your thoughts and he doesn't even know about it.

With every lick, suck and nibble brings you closer to the edge. Your thighs burn and shake from grinding down on him, desperately wanting to close but unable to do so. Chan knows your close, your exhibiting the tell-tale signs, the signs he knows too well.

Body shaking, lips parted but no words coming out. Your stomach clenching and being sucked in as you struggle to hold on.

“C-Cha– I can't!” You sob, the pressure being too much to bear. Chan hums, giving you the go ahead. You tug at his curls harshly, feeling your orgasm hit and wash over you in waves, causing the hair on your arms to stand straight.

Your juices squirt out on Chan's face, his already open mouth, catching each drop. With each droplet, he hums making sure to swallow. Once calm, you pant heavily, stroking his hair.

In one swift movement, your back on your back, Chan between your legs. He licks his lips clean of any remaining juice, wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

“More.” He whispers, taking off his boxer shorts. You swallow thickly, expecting him to slide between your legs and fuck you hard and rough, but Chan has other ideas.

Instead of his cock, he inserts two of his fingers deep inside you. You groan deeply, back arching as he pumps them, fingers curling along your sopping and tight walls.

“C-Chan!!” You cry out, gripping onto his wrists. “W-Wait!”

Ruthless. His movements ruthless, fingers curling and abusing your g-spot making you uncontrollably shake and wither. Your hair sticks to your forehead, sweat coating the ends as your body burns.

He rubs your clit from side to side, rubs matching the tempo of the thrusts. You let out strangled moans, the oversensitivity burning, causing your nerve endings to be on high alert.

“Ch-Chan!”

“That's my girl. I know you can take it.” He kisses your thighs, biting at the skin as his hair tickles it. ”Can you take it, princess? Bear with it and cum for me again like the good lil pup you are?”

“Take it.. I can take it! 'm good girl.. I'd do anything for you.” You whimper, nails digging into the skin of his wrists.

“That's my girl. You're such a good girl for me, y/n.”

“G-Good girl. I'm good girl. Channie's good girl.”

“That's right. Who do you belong to?”

“Y-You!” Your head flops from side to side, the oversensitivity burning and becoming painful. Your juices spill out of your cunt, slipping down the curve of your ass and onto the sheets. Before you could warn him, your juices suddenly squirt out, landing on Chan's forearm.

Chan watches with a smirk on his lips, his fingers showing no signs of slowing down. He watches the way your body twists and turns, legs shake and your hands gripping onto the bed sheets. He pulls his fingers out before taking off his boxer shorts, situating himself between your legs straight after.

He tugs at his cock, lining it up to your entrance as he holds onto your waist.

“You've been such a good girl for me, pup. Now I'm going to give you what you've been waiting for.” He purrs. You give him a dumb smile, hissing as he pushes his cock inside your tight and sopping cunt.

He pushes all the way to the hilt, your walls contracting around him. He grunts deeply as he hangs his head low, the feeling of your tightness suffocating him.

“Shit.” He mumbles, before thrusting at a slow and steady pace. “Shit, you're so tight pup.”

“C-Chan. More… need more!”

“Does my pup want more of my cock? Are you greedy for it?”

“Y-yes. faster, harder. Chan, please I beg you. I need to feel so much more of you!” You eyes silently beg him, tears pricking your lower lash line

“Awe.” He coos, stroking your cheek. “Look at you begging for it. You know what I like, such a slut.”

Your body jolts suddenly, Chan's hips snapping harshly against yours as he fucks you raw. Your back arches, his cock instantly hitting your g-spot making you see stars. Your toes curl, the wet sounds of your soppy cunt filling up the bedroom.

“C-Cha–'' You struggle to say, feeling your mind slowly become clouded. You feel yourself slowly losing all sense, Chan being the only thing you're able to focus on. The way his cock drives deep inside you, his length rubbing your walls in the most delicious way that drives out every pant and moans.

“I can't! Chan, i– deep, you're so deep!” A dumb smile plasters on your face, lips parted as tears spill from the corners of your eyes. Your body becomes consumed with too much pleasure, the tips of your fingers and toes tingling, your skin feeling like it's on fire.

Your juices coat Chan's cock with each pull back, spilling from your soppy cunt. Chan growls and groans, his fingers digging into your waist harshly, purple bruises slowly forming in their wake.

“Such a tight cunt. Your walls are squeezing my cock.” Chan groans deeply, tingles of pleasure run down his spine to his cock and balls, making it twitch inside you. “Shit pup!”

“C-Channie–” Your body tosses and turns, sweat coating your body. Chan pushes back his sweaty curls with one hand before leaning over you, resting on his forearms. His tempo slows down, but he stays deep inside.

“Look at me, pup.” He whispers, hot breath fanning against your face. You slowly turn your head, giving him a dumb smile. Eyes hazily and lidded, nothing but thoughts of Chan swimming around in your head.

“My dumb pup. Did you get fucked dumb from my cock?” He coos. You simply nod, unable to form sentences. “Cant even speak, huh? You really are a dumb slut.”

“Yes.” You whisper, unaware of what you're saying. “Chans dumb slut. I'm channie's dumb slut.”

“Good girl.” He growls, his lips pressing against yours. The kiss is sloppy, teeth and tongues bashing and colliding. Spit mixes together, spilling from the corner of your lips.

He leans up once again, towering over you. Holding onto your waist tightly, he resumes his powerful and ruthless thrusting. Skin slapping on skin, the back of your thighs turning red raw from the constant abuse.

“I'm going to breed my pup. Give you my seed.”

“Yes! Give it to me Chan. Breed me, please."

“You want my seed, little one? Going to milk my cock dry just to get what you want?” Your walls clench around Chan from his words, a deep grunt falling past his lips.

“Y-Yes!” You choke out, throat and mouth feeling sore and dry from the continuous pants.

“Fuck, such a greedy little girl.” His own voice raspy from overuse, his hips faltering at the thought of filling you to the brim.

“I might not last long.” He whispers, his eyes trailing to the space that connects you both together. His body shivers as he watches his cock penetrate you over and over again.

Your walls clamp around Chan, that familiar pressure building up once again. You claw at Chan's arms, red welts appearing on his skin and you wither.

“C-Chan. I-I'm…” Chan simply hums in acknowledgement, watching the way your juices continually spill from your swollen and overused cunt.

A couple more thrusts and hits on your g-spot and your orgasm hits you, hard. You gasp for breath, back arching violently from the bed as you squirt your juices all over Chan's cock, his lower half of his body and the sheets.

Chan's eyes widen, his movements coming to a stop as he watches. “Holy–” He simply whispers.

Your body violently shakes, the ability to breath is apparent. You whisper and moan Chan's name over and over again, like a ritual.

“Still, to this day, you never fail to amaze me.” Chan growls, showing no mercy on his thrusting. He's being selfish, wants to chase his own high, fill you up nice and deep with his seed.

The oversensitivity causes you to pant heavily, choke on air. Body withers side to side, hands gripping onto the sheets tightly as you struggle to comprehend.

“C-Ch–” You sob, toes curling as tears spill down your cheeks.

“I know, I know pup.” His head dips low, eyes squeezing shut as his balls get tighter, the pressure becoming too much. “Just, a little longer.”

Your muscles scream at you, body slick with sweat. Your cunt burns and stings from overuse. Soft praises emit from Chan's lips, his orgasm approaching fast.

“Shit!” One final thrust was all it took. You feel his hot cum shoot out, coating your walls. His cock twitches with each release. You hum softly, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you feel him filling you up.

“It's so much.” He whispers, embarrassed as he hangs his head low. “I'm sorry pup, it's so much.”

“More.” You simply whisper. Chan slowly pulls out of you, his cum seeping out from your swollen pussy. Your face scrunches up as your hips buck from the sting. “I want more.”

“No more, pup.” Chan softly speaks. Your bottom lip quivers.

“Why?!”

“Because–” Chan grabs some baby wipes, gently cleaning the cum from your cunt. You whimper, your cunt still too sensitive. “You're sore.”

“I can take it! Please chan!” You weakly lean up on your elbows.

“As much as I would love to fuck you into the night pup, I can't. You're too sore for any more.”

“But–”

“No buts pup. We go take a bath, get some food and calm down. You're sore and tender and I don't want to hurt you anymore, even if it is intentionally. I get off knowing that you feel good, that's the main reason why I feel good. If I go back to fucking you at this moment in time and I see that you're in pain, it's not fun no more, pup.”

You pout, looking down. Disappointed? Yes, but you understand. Now that your hormones are slowly calming down, your head slowly becoming clearer, you understand his reasoning.

“Fine.” You mumble, pouting. Chan chuckles softly, pressing a sweet and gentle kiss on your sweaty forehead.

“I'll run us a bath, where we can relax, clean up and talk about our day.” Chan shuffles off the bed. ”After that, I'm going to smother you in so much love and kisses!”

You squeal as you get picked up in his strong, tattooed arms. You wrap your legs around his waist, arms around his neck as he cups under your ass to keep you stable.

“How does that sound pup?” He whispers softly, lips brushing against yours.

“It sounds perfect Chan, just like you.”

→ note: i have no excuses nor any words, tbh. hehehehe :) don’t forget to leave feedback, reblog and tell me what you think here. enjoy!!

→ TAGS [open]: @chaneomma | @sstarryoong | @meltheninja13 | @laylasbunbunny | @oshimee

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bluecollarmcandtf · 8 months

Text

Hypnotized Help: Chris

"I've got the gym all ready for you, master," Hemsworth states with his famous smile, "What would you like to work on today?"

I hypnotized the actor awhile ago to quit the high-paying job he was used to. As far as he understands it, Hollywood is not a place he belongs. Chris Hemsworth now understands that he's meant to be my personal trainer.

Of course, it took some deep reconditioning to convince him of that.

"Let's keep up the same workout," I tell him.

"Yes, master. Then you'll be working on the back and arms today," he explains, "I'll make your pre-training shake for you."

I watch with amusement as the stud scrambles to prepare my exercises. He's my gym coach, which means it's his sole responsibility to get me into bodybuilding shape. The guy has already gotten me to gain plenty of lean muscle, so he must have some idea of what he's doing.

"This is for you, Master," Chris hands me the shake, "Alright, let's get you pumped up!"

With a flick of the remote, my personal trainer blasts energetic music before eagerly watching me down the protein mix. He's bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement. I programmed a deep desire for him to want the best for me. Motivation has always been a struggle for me in the gym, so having a trainer around who doubles as my biggest cheerleader is a good influence.

"That's nasty!" I toss the empty cup to Chris after swallowing the entirety of the liquid.

"It'll maximize the work you're about to do!" the superhero grins, "Let's get started with some simple calisthenics."

The actor begins walking me through increasingly brutal exercises, making sure to do a few reps himself to give me the best impression of how to do them.

"Don't forget to tuck your glutes in," he reminds me, gently guiding my hips with his hands.

He puts me through a few hours of intense exercises, but I beat my personal records in almost every set I lift. It's easy to push myself with Hemsworth cheering me on.

"Alright, that's enough for today," I pant, "Don't forget to wipe everything down."

"Already on it, Master," he replies, marching around with a spray bottle and rag, "Don't forget to stretch tonight before you turn in."

"I'm going to forget unless you come and remind me," I sigh, "Just wait in my room until I'm done with the day. Then you can walk me through the stretches."

"Yes, master," he replies.

I need to hit the showers so I can move on with my day, but I can't help lingering to watch the former superhero cleaning my sweat off the bench. Part of his responsibilities include wiping down all the equipment before and after I use it. I think I also put him in charge of laundering all the sweaty towels, but I can't remember.

"Chris."

"Yes master?" he pauses and smiles up at me.

"How's my progress?" I ask, knowing full well my body has never looked better, "Am I on track to be an even hotter hero than you?"

"Oh definitely, master," he instantly assured me, "You are already in phenomenal shape, and in a few months, you'll be bigger than I ever was. Then all the ladies will rightfully be after you, master!"

"Sounds good," I enjoy the praise, "Why don't you finish cleaning all this up in a little bit."

"Is there something you need me to do, master?" Chris asks.

"Yeah, you need to wash me down in the shower," I command, "It's a new responsibility you have. You got me this sweaty, so you're going to clean it up."

"Of course, master," he says, putting the rag and spray bottle down, "That only seems right. I hope you aren't too uncomfortable, standing in your sweat right now."

I can't help but harden as we step into my locker room. Thinking about Chris Hemsworth cleaning me off in the shower is too much. The image of him beneath the water in his little uniform and on his knees scrubbing my tired legs, is too much.

The former celebrity will just have to work around my throbbing erection.

#hypnotized help #gay hypnosis #hypno story #servant #gay mind control

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 6 months

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Murder Daddy Kinktober 2023 Day 23 - Drunk Sex Vampire!Frankie x Reader

General Warnings: 18+, as is the whole of my blog, I will mark anything specific but be aware this is predominantly a smutty blog that writes porn with plot. DNI if you are a minor. By reading further you have taken the responsibility to do so with the warnings I have given.

Specific Warnings: Drunk Reader (dubcon but established relationship), Twilight references (to piss off Frankie) Vampire sex, Vampire bites, Unprotected PiV (sort of), vampire vibes, oral F receiving, biting, vampire bites. Let me kow if I missed anything!

Part 1 here: [Can be read as a standalone but there is some context you might miss if you don't read part 1] Read on Ao3 Support me on Ko-fi or Patreon! Thank you @pastelnap for being my ride or die <3

You stumble through the door to Frankie’s apartment, shushing yourself in the way drunk people do, making decidedly more noise than if you’d just kept your mouth shut.

“Mi sol?” Frankie’s voice startles you and you yelp, falling over yourself as you try and get your shoes off. You’re hunched over, determined to stay on your feet, for some inexplicable reason.

“Go back to sleep!”

You hiss into the dark apartment, giggling to yourself as you finally get your left shoe off, before starting on the right. Frankie turns on the living room lamp and you groan in protest at the sudden burst of light.

“You know I don’t sleep, hermosa, do you need help?”

You hesitate before looking up to see Frankie smirking down at you, dressed only in olive-green sweatpants and – of course – his Standard Oil baseball cap. You roll your eyes at the ensemble, but you can’t deny, no matter what Frankie wears, he’s gorgeous.

“Please.” You whine as you give up, plopping down on the floor unceremoniously as you watch your boyfriend saunter over to you with an amused grin on his face.

“You look like you had a good time.”

Frankie’s thick fingers ghost against your skin as he undoes the tiny little buckle on your strappy heels that bested you in your inebriated state. You hum as the mere brush of his calloused palm on your ankle sends heat driving to your core.

“The best, Damien scored, and Lisa and I caught up, her baby’s almost a year old, can you believe that?”

“That so?” Frankie encourages you softly as he pulls you up to your feet, steering you to the other side of the studio apartment, settling you on the kitchen counter as he gets you a glass of water, some juice, and a snack.

“Yup, still looks like a potato though,” You hiccup, and Frankie lets out a soft snort at you, “Not sure why people think babies look cute, they’re all…” You make a wiggling gesture with your fingertips and scrunch your nose at him as he brings over the snacks and drinks, “Wrinkly.”

“Dios mío,” Frankie chuckles as he pops open the Ziplock back of high protein snacks and pops something salty into your mouth, “Children are a blessing mi sol.”

Something in your drunken brain takes the statement too much to heart. You feel tears welling in your eyes as your heart clenches painfully at the thought of not wanting kids.

“I’m sorry Frankie.” You sob as you swallow painfully around the lump in your throat as you wash the bitterness down with a swig of water. Frankie is between your legs in a flash, you’re still not used to how fast he can move, and you wince slightly. His hands rub gently over your bare arms, coarse skin catching delightfully against your own softness.

“What are you sorry for mi sol? For being drunk? That’s not something to apologise for, you were having fun-,”

“For not wanting your babies.”

Frankie’s hands still on your biceps and you look up to see sadness pulling at his brow, his eyes glistening with shame as his lips part gently. It’s funny when Frankie does something so ingrained in muscle memory like sigh because very little actual air comes out, yet the hard-wired expression of exasperation remains.

“We’ve talked about this, even if I- if we, wanted children it’s not possible. I don’t have the tools for the job, haven’t had them for over a century. I have made my peace with that, and I am glad you don’t want them, it makes it easier for me to reconcile it.”

“You sure?” You sob, well aware that snot is dribbling over your lip.

“I am very sure, I was simply trying to say, maybe, just maybe, don’t call your best friend’s baby a wrinkly potato.”

“I would never to her face!” You gasp dramatically at the notion, and you smile as you see Frankie’s eyes sparkle with amusement. You narrow your eyes at him as you wipe the tears and mucus from your lip.

“There we are, I much prefer when you glare at me like that, rather than crying over something as silly as thinking you would lose me over something neither of us can control.”

“When you put it that way I feel like an ass.”

You pout and cross your arms over your chest, immediately feeling a mixture of relief and embarrassment wash over you.

“But you are my ass.” He grumbles into your hair as he wraps his arms around you, pressing you against his chest and you inhale his floral body wash as you press soft kisses to his bare skin.

“About three things I am absolutely positive,” You start, a shit-eating grin forming on your lips, “First, Francisco is a vampire.”

“Mi sol, what are you doing?” Frankie grumbles as you snicker against his chest, mouthing lightly at his left nipple.

“Second, there is a part of me – and I don’t know how potent-,”

“Mi amor please, stop. Not the twilight quoting again.”

“That part might be – that thirsts for my blood.”

“Seriously, you’re being so lame right now.”

“And third, I am unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.”

There’s silence as you wait for him to scold you, to threaten to make you shut up with some lewd act involving his dick or his mouth. But it doesn’t come. You lean back and look up to see shock on Frankie’s face.

“You love me?”

The realisation hits you and you feel the colour drain from your cheeks.

“Uh, well, it was the quote and, well, yes I guess- I guess I do.” You fumble as you give him an awkward grin, teeth bared as you wince a little at your drunken admission.

“I love you too, so much.”

“I love you too.” You breathe as you lean up to press your lips against his, it’s a gentle, tender brush of lips as you snake your hands around his neck. You twist your fingers into the soft curls that brush his skin there.

“I know. You just told me so, by way of a twilight quote.” Frankie chuckles softly as you part, looking down at you with hungry, but kind, eyes.

“Asshole.” You grumble but you’ve already noticed the hard press of his cock against your thigh, you smirk and tug on his hair a little firmer than you would normally. He groans and crashes his lips into yours.

His fangs slide out and he makes sure to nick your bottom lip before gliding his tongue over the shallow cuts.

“You sure you’re sober enough for this hermosa?”

“I am, I promise,” And it’s true, you want this, bad, “Plus, I’m sure you can siphon off a little of the alcohol in my system to help a girl out.”

You roll your head to the side, exposing your neck where Frankie can just about see the evidence of his bite from last week. The marks too acute for the human eye to see, but he sees them like shining stars on a cloudless night.

“Fuck you’re a bad girl.” He groans as he drops his head to your shoulder mouthing gently at your pulse point as he glides the blunt curves of his fangs over your skin. You whine at the way he licks a long, slow stripe up to the shell of your ear, his strong nose buried into your hair as he takes a deep breath in.

“I’m your bad girl.”

“I’m not fucking you on the counter after confessing my love to you, come on.”

Frankie hoists you up, wrapping your ankles around his waist as he strides towards your bedroom. The same bedroom that he fucked you – and fed from you – in six months ago.

Frankie crawls into the middle of the bed, somehow managing to manoeuvre your combined bodies so that you’re straddling him. The sound of fabric tearing has you pulling back from Frankie’s lips. You furrow your brow as you look down at your ruined dress. He’s torn it completely from your body, leaving you in just your lacy panties and bra.

“Oops.” He chuckles before reaching for your panties. You catch his wrists just as he starts to tug at the lace.

“Francisco no! I love this set.”

“Fine.” He draws out the word in mock exasperation as he tips you backwards, your head resting just short of the end of the bed. You giggle as he brushes his lips up each thigh, starting at the inside of your knees. His facial hair scrapes blissfully against your tender skin as he makes his way up to your clothed cunt.

He takes his time, lingering here and there, laving his tongue over the trail of previously marked skin; some as large as freckles, others pinpricks. Evidence of the thousands of times you have let him feed on you, most of the time when he had you spread out for him like this.

But sometimes, when he’d had a bad day, or you were feeling extra generous, you’d let him feed. Drink from you for something deeper than sex. It was an act of service on your part, and you know you’ll never grow tired of having Frankie drink from you.

“Always so good to me, mi amor, look at the constellations adorning your skin. Star maps of our devotion.” Frankie murmurs against your skin

“Christ, Lord Byron, I told you I loved you, not that I pine for the fjords on a winters day waiting for your love.” You tease as you secretly enjoy it when Francisco waxes lyrical with you, you know it comes from a long dead, former version of himself that breaks through when most incensed.

“Points for trying, but I know part of that is a Monty Python bit.”

You feel the harsh scratch and burn of Frankies fangs on your inner thigh as he scolds you. The rush of warmth and arousal is instantaneous as his saliva soothes and warms your very veins. Frankie taps your left ass cheek softly to indicate you to lift your hips so he can remove your panties. You do as you’re commanded and take the chance to unclasp your bra and fling it across the room.

“Checking one last time, mi amor, you sure you want this?” Frankie hovers over your exposed core as he waits for you to answer you look down to see the picture of demonic divinity.

Frankie’s hair curls in perfect waves around his face. His eyes are tinged with crimson flecks which scatter through those dark brown depths. His mouth is smeared with your blood, fangs jutting out, tipped with smudges of red. You reach down with one hand, cupping his jaw, scratching your nails through his patchy facial hair.

“I’m sure, I love you Frankie, please, take what’s yours.”

Frankie hums contentedly as he licks a thick, broad stripe through your slick folds. He latches his lips on your clit as he sucks gently, two fingers already prodding at your entrance as your back arches up. You pant and whimper as his fangs catch on your delicate skin as he gets sloppy, devouring you like a man possessed as he thrusts his fingers deep inside you, alternating between scissoring and curling up into your g-spot.

“Come for me.”

Frankie’s voice is low as he uses the tip of his tongue to trace erratic circles over your clit. You come blindingly hard around his fingers, walls clamping down as you cry out in a broken snarl. Your vision blurs and you clamp your eyes shut, pleasure erupts from your core, bleeding through your body like a spill of hot wax, cloying, lingering, lasting.

“Good girl, so good to me.”

“Please Francisco, make love to me, bite me.” Your voice is a pathetic whimper, but you like how you sound, wrecked for him already, but of so eager for more.

“As you wish mi sol.”

Frankie lifts you back up into a kneeling position as he pulls you onto his lap, lining you up over him as he slowly pushes you down onto his cock. You gasp, digging your nails into his shoulders as his girth stretches you out. You writhe and moan as Frankie takes one of your nipples into his mouth.

“Want to go nice and slow, want you to really feel me.”

“Fuck,” You grunt as he seats himself deep inside you, filling you up as you wrap your legs around his waist loosely, “Love this position Frankie.”

“Same, so deep, so intimate.”

His lips leave your nipple, and he pulls your head down, crashing his lips into yours as he picks up the pace a little beneath you. His hips roll up into you as his free hand drops to your clit, his broad thumb pressing hard, slow circles against your swollen bundle of nerves.

“May I bite you?”

“Yes, always yes, but thank you for asking.”

You let your head loll forward onto Frankie’s shoulder as you pepper soft kisses to his skin, sucking and nipping at his flesh when thrusts hit particularly deep, or he pressures your clit just right.

Frankie mouths your skin gently, licking hot stripes over your skin as he savours you before he seemingly finds the sweet spot. Pleasure rich pain bursts in your neck, flooding your system with euphoria.

“Oh fuck yes, Frankie fuck me harder please.”

Your nails dig into the tan expanse of his back as you cling to him, his thick length fucks into you deeper, faster. You feel every inch of him, every ridge and vein as your pussy clamps down on him tightly. His mouth leaves your neck, and you pull back enough to capture his bloody lips in your own. His saliva and your blood transfusing into a sickly cocktail of iron and sweetness as your body fully succumbs to the aphrodisiac singing through your system.

“I love you, so much, be mine, forever?” Frankie pants as he picks up the pace on your clit, his hands on your hips, slamming you down to meet his frantic thrusts as he feels you tighten around him. The room is full of your breathy moans, and you nod in earnest.

“Yes, you have me Frankie, forever.”

He grunts low as he fucks up into you a few more times. The sound, the pressure on your clit, and the way Frankie’s cock simply wrecks you has you coming hard around him. He whines softly as you push yourself down on him, not letting your bodies part for even a second as he spills inside you, thick ropes of come filling you to the brim as you press your forehead against his. Cool – but not cold – skin meets your clammy forehead, and you smile absently at the juxtaposition.

You kneel there in silence for some time, hands roaming over well-worn tracks that you could trace in the dark. Frankie’s hands mirror your own, mapping you out as if for the first time, but you know it’s habit by now.

“Come on, you need something more to eat,” Frankie gently eases you off him, pushing you onto your back against the pillows, “Don’t move.” He orders as he lifts your hips up, sliding a thick pillow under your ass so that none of his spend leaks out.

“God that’s so fucking hot.” You grumble to yourself and yelp when Frankie calls from across the apartment in response.

“For someone that doesn’t want kids you sure sound like you have a breeding kink.”

“Fuck you, Francisco!”

You yell out into the studio, but your lips are spread in a broad smile as you know he’s right.

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crowno-0 · 6 months

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Jaune has been spending every hour since he returned from The Ever after with his team and helping any and everyone who need it.

Right now he and Nora are having an eating competition, on Nora's request.

Nora is currently winning with more plates but Jaune's pace hasn't slowed at all.

Nora: You didn't have this much of an *She holds her mouth swallowing and burp* appetite before.

Jaune: Let me tell you when all you to eat are fruit and vegetables that might be alive and the currency is dreams and wishes, which you can also eat sometimes *Jaune stares off into the distance and then points at Nora with a piece of chicken* I'm going to eat until I can't anymore.

Nora: Hell yeah *Nora cheers as she finishes off another plate" Huh, if you can eat like me now, maybe you might be able to keep up with my workout regime?

Jaune: *Jaune finishes off another plate, wiping his face clean after* You know what, let's do it, don't think I'm as weak as before, I've found out I can be very task focused when I want to be.

Nora: Yes! I'm going to bulk you up, I've always said you could be bigger, if you put your cards right you could join the thunder thighs.

Jaune: I don't know what that is, but sure.

Nora: Great, now load up on protein, I'm break every muscle you don't know you have.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Relaxing after a mission Weiss checks her Scroll smiling to herself.

Yang: Whatcha looking at Weisscream?

Weiss: Nora sent me some pictures of her and Jaune.

Ruby: Oh, I got some too, looks like they are having fun.

Blake: What are they doing?

Weiss shows her scroll showing a picture of Jaune at the squat rack: Nora is doing god's work.

Ruby, Yang and Blake look at eachother as Weiss smiles typing away at her scroll.

#jaune arc #team jnpr #rwby spoilers #jnpr #rwby jaune #rwby #nora valkyrie #weiss schnee #rwby whiteknight #whiteknight

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paperstorm · 8 months

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Would you ever consider including your demisexual Carlos hc in a fic? I understand if you don't want to explicitly mention it in missing moments as it's not technically canon, but I love your take on it and I'd love to read more about it. I'd be especially intrigued to see a conversation between TK and Carlos that touched on it. No pressure though, reading your meta about it is also awesome!

Yes! I absolutely should. It doesn't really fit into missing moments, you're right, but I should write him figuring that out about himself. This popped into my head reading this -

TK notices him hovering. He looks up from the protein shake he's mixing, giving Carlos a smile. "Hey."

"Hey," Carlos returns. Nerves flip in his stomach.

"What's up?"

Carlos's lips part, but then his anxiety gets the better of him and he closes his mouth again. He changes his mind, he can't do this. He pastes a smile onto his face. "Nothing. You want lunch in a bit?"

TK frowns at him. Of course he knows Carlos too well, of course Carlos isn't able to fool him. "What's going on?"

Carlos shakes his head. He steps further into the kitchen, leaning in and pecking a kiss to TK's cheek. He opens the refrigerator and grabs a bottle of water. "Nothing's going on."

"Hey." TK reaches for him, holds onto his elbow and doesn't let Carlos run away from him. His forehead is wrinkled in a frown.

Carlos swallows over a lump in his throat.

TK takes the water from his hand and sets it on the counter. Gently he backs Carlos up, caging him into the corner and brushing knuckles along his cheek. Even though they were already alone in the loft, being tucked away like this makes everything feel safer, like Carlos bets TK knew it would. His husband knows him. Sometimes that still feels so big that it scares him a little, but that hasn't stopped it from being true.

"You're gonna think I'm weird," Carlos mumbles, his cheeks burning. He averts his gaze, focusing on a spot near TK's collarbone instead of looking into his clear, bright eyes.

"I love you," TK says simply. "Tell me what's wrong, baby."

He doesn't make Carlos look at him. He just stays in his space, steps in an inch closer when Carlos circles arms around his waist. He's warm, and he's always been Carlos's safest place to hide, when the world seems like too much to tackle all on his own. His favorite person, the only one Carlos wants to let see into the parts of himself where he's soft and anxious and not as strong as he wants everyone else to believe. Everyone except for TK.

"Do you ..." he bites his lip, the words still difficult to say even though his heart knows TK isn't going to laugh at him. "Um. Experience sexual attraction? Like, to other men?"

TK's quiet for a moment. Carlos dares to look up at him, and his frown has deepened. "I'm not ... Carlos, I would never, ever cheat on you."

"No," Carlos says quickly, shaking his head insistently. "No, that's not what I mean, I'm not accusing you of something."

"Oh."

"I just ..." Carlos sighs dramatically. TK leans in closer and rests his forehead against Carlos's cheek, understanding that this is hard for him. Carlos is so heart-warmed by the gesture that it gives him the courage to say, "I've been reading about demisexuality. It's this thing where ..."

"I know what it means," TK says softly, and thank God he does because Carlos isn't sure he would have done justice to an explanation anyway.

"I think ... maybe I am. That. I didn't think I was anything other than gay but then I was reading and some stuff started to make sense."

He swallows and waits, the anxious voices in his mind traitorously telling him to brace for TK to make fun of him, but TK doesn't. He lifts his head, mouth curving into a smile before he presses it to Carlos's in a tender kiss. He lets their foreheads rest together when their lips fall away and in a soft voice, says, "Tell me everything."

#911ls asks #demisexual carlos #paperstorm writes

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xxshadowbabexx · 2 months

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Price X Fem!Reader. A day of double whammy surprises. Price and Reader having been together a few years now, and the reader is hiding a big surprise that she only known for about a week and was nervous trying to find a way to tell Price. One day Price goes to propose, and mentions wanting to settle down with her and retire and have some babies together and she starts crying as she says “Absolutely yes, without hesitation. But Price, honey..” or something like that. Price asks what’s wrong and she tells him she found out she’s pregnant a week before this and has the first ultrasound checkup tomorrow morning and was just crying tears of overwhelmed feelings mostly joy and nervousness from admitting the pregnancy finally. And there’s a wholesome moment at the ultrasound the next day that they’re actually gonna be having twins. Just a whole bunch of cuteness and wholesomeness. Please?🥺❤️

Double Whammy

Warnings: pregnancy, proposal, retirement, tooth rotting fluff

One of the things that made you fall in love with John was the fact that he was incredibly fatherly. You weren’t sure whether it was the way he carried himself, or how he was so gentle yet stern, either way, you knew you wanted a family with him.

And now you were finally getting one. Of course, he didn’t know yet- you hadn’t even known for that long, but you knew he would be ecstatic about the news. He’d been gone about two weeks in the field and was scheduled to get back home tonight. In just a handful of minutes, actually.

You had on his favorite sundress, a pastel yellow with white lilies decorated on it, and you were actively making you both dinner. Steak, naturally. Not your favorite, but after a deployment he always needed protein fueled foods.

It was then that you heard the jingle of keys at the front door, and you ran to greet him. You beamed as he scooped you up and twirled you in his arms before catching your lips in a longing kiss

“Missed ya, doll,” his voice came out raspy in your ear and you shuttered.

“Missed you too, honey,” you whispered into his neck, inhaling his scent and pressing a kiss to the skin.

You both moved to the kitchen, and ever the gentleman he insisted on serving the food.

He placed your plates in front of you, but hesitated to sit down. You raised your eyebrows and opened your mouth to speak but found your voice to be lost when he got down on one knee.

“Listen doll, these past three years with you have been th’ best ones of my life. Y’know I love nothing more than coming home to you, but lately I’ve been thinking. As much as I love seeing you again after each deployment, I don’t want to leave you again. I- I was thinking of retirement. So I could stay home with you and just, love you how I should’ve these past years. Make up for all the time I lost on the battlefield.

I never thought I’d find someone to want to settle down with, but I want to with you. I love you more than words, sweetheart. Will you marry me,” he asks with bated breath and you can see the nerves firing off in his mind as he awaits your response.

Tears cascade down your cheek and you move to cup his head with your shaky hands.

“Absolutely yes. A thousand times yes, John. But honey…” you trail off, swallowing your nerves as you remember the news you have to share.

i “Hm love, what is it?” he asks eyes boring into yours.

“I’m pregnant,” and it’s as if the world itself stopped. There’s nothing but silence as he processes the information, and the inly sign that he has heard the news is the tears forming at his waterline.

“You mean it?” he asks and once you confirm it his face lights up with a childlike glee. Suddenly he’s hugging and kissing you, muttering on and on about how excited he is, and how much he hopes the baby looks like you.

High from the news and still recovering from two weeks of missing you, he insists that you sit in his lap as you eat. He feeds both of you, wanting nothing more than to take care of you as you tell him about the ultrasound appointment you have scheduled tomorrow.

•••

When it came time for the appointment John made sure to never leave your side, his hand holding yours and fiddling with the diamond encrusted ring.

He was anxiously waiting with you as you both looked at the screen, and thats when you saw it.

The light grey matter that showed a baby’s location. But… it looked like… no it couldn’t be. John could’ve gotten that lucky. But he had.

The doctor turned, beaming towards them as he spoke, “See that, looks like you’ve got twins,”

Taglist

@theloneshadow24 @frogtowne @reap3erslov3 @ladyxtiger @whitetiger846

#captain john price #john price #captain price #price #call of duty x reader #call of duty

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drivinmeinsane · 3 months

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{ Eyes Always Seeking }

1/3 ※ Officer K (BR 2049) x Sierra Six (The Gray Man) ※ { masterlist } ※ { ao3 }

next chapter -»

※ Summary: Unpleasantly, K feels the return of the drowning sensation he had felt earlier. It is almost as though someone had placed a mirror in front of him in a dream. The reflection is him, but distinctly not. ※ Rating: 18+ for explicit mature content. ※ Content/tags: Canon-typical violence, Descriptions of a Crime Scene, Eye Horror, Descriptions of Injury, Frottage, Handjobs, Implied Reoccurring Sexual Abuse by a Supervisor, Emotional Hurt, Identity Issues, References to Greek Mythology, Hand Holding ※ Word count: 4,789 ※ Status: Chapter 1 / Complete ※ Author's note: I would have had this chapter up and ready to go sooner but the Saw franchise came into my life like a brick through a window. 😔 K and Six are close to being my Roman empire alongside Driver and Ken. I hope ya'll enjoy this pairing as much as I do. ※ Song inspiration: Like Real People Do - Hozier

Rice today. Not steaming, just cold and forming a congealing lump in the corner. There had been some sort of sad attempt at vegetables to go with it, but those had long since been further pulverized between K’s teeth and swallowed down. Currently on his fork is the last chunk of grub protein. It had been textured and flavored to look and taste like chicken. The replicant can’t vouch for the authenticity of it. Real poultry was something only the wealthy could dream of.

The tines of the metal fork are barely between his parted lips when Joi glitches to a halt, frozen mid sentence. She is “sitting” on window ledge, in the midst of prattling on about the breeds of chickens she might like to keep if they had the space. Privately, K thinks he might like to keep bees in another life.

A telltale chime of an incoming call seems to come from Joi’s open mouth, eking out past her teeth. It’s his madam. He knows it before the popup flashes to life to the left of his pretend wife’s face. There’s no one that would call him other than Lieutenant Joshi. He lets his fork clatter into the container, bite untaken.

“Accept call,” he addresses the projection.

“I hope I’m not interrupting your night. I’m sure you have plans.” Joshi’s voice sounds wrong, insincere, coming from Joi’s frozen figure. He averts his eyes, stares at the table so he doesn’t have to look at the mockery.

“Of course not, Madam.” K shoves down the ball of emotions that want to burst out of his chest like a living, breathing creature and keeps his tone free of anything resembling bitterness. She knows that she’s not interrupting anything. Even if she were, it wouldn’t make any difference. He’s always at her disposal for any whim. She owns his time. Owns him.

“I’m having you meet up with another officer. I’ll send over the coordinates. An informant tipped us off to a possible meeting place for some of the skinjobs we’ve been searching for. I need you to go sniffing around out there. See what you find. Might be nothing, might be a whole lot of something.

“Yes, Madam,” he agrees, getting to his feet. His body is thoughtlessly obeying.

“And, K? The officer.” He reflexively looks up at the sound of his name. “He’s one of your kind,” his madam says, ending the call. K stands beside his vacated chair, stunned. He accidentally ignores his pretend wife when she tries to resume their playacting like she hadn’t been stalled. Joi is talking, flitting around him with buzzing touches of her slender hands, but it feels as though he’s under water.

He tells himself that the details don’t matter, that who, or rather what, he works with is of no consequence. A job is a job. The officer forces his mind to compartmentalize as he goes through the motions of readying himself for night ahead. He is proficient at digging in the earth of his mind and laying thoughts in shallow graves. It keeps him out of retirement.

Mind carefully blank, he sets the remnants of his dinner inside the small refrigeration unit. His stomach needs to be as empty as it can be for this. If K had had more warning, he simply would not have eaten yet.

Once in the main room again, he “kisses” Joi goodbye before turning off the console responsible for her. The hard line unit that crosses the ceiling shrinks back into a neutral position like a kenneled animal. There’s no emulator to take her with him. Not yet. Soon. He’s only a few more payouts away.

K moves further down the hall that makes up the entryway. With slightly unsteady fingers, he pulls his long coat off of the peg and shrugs the reassuring weight of it over his shoulders. He checks the firearm in his holster. It’s firmly tucked into the synthetic leather, nothing amiss. He hadn’t bothered to take his equipment off before dinner, having had an uneasy feeling. Intuition had evidently been working behind the scenes. He’s already wearing his boots, usually is unless he’s in bed or in a rare state of undress. K prefers to avoid the feeling of cold tile against the bottoms of his feet. Satisfied that he is as prepared as as he is going to get, the replicant slides the door open and exits his apartment unit.

The stairs are as treacherous as always. They are perpetually overcrowded and K is resigned to knowing that the milling throng is on the cusp of a riot every time they are reminded that yes, he does exist and, yes he lives in this building alongside them. Conditions are not much better once he steps out in the neon lit glow of the night. He flips his collar up and fastens it shut against the smog and the near constant freezing rain. It’s a short walk to the parking garage where he keeps his spinner. It, like the apartment and his firearm, had been provided as a courtesy of the Los Angeles Police Department.

He presses his fingertip to onto the door lock for the spinner. It beeps in acknowledgment, releasing the latch and letting the door swing upwards. He doesn’t wait for it to open all the way before shoving himself into the pilot’s seat and slamming it closed. The replicant’s tumultuous emotions are not so suppressed that they don’t bleed out into his actions. He’s never been paired with another of his kind before. He was made to go solo. Organics don’t trust groups of them, not since the rebellion, the riots. Pack hunters would be too dangerous even with the compulsion for obedience woven into their assembled DNA. There’s a part of him that’s almost excited, being on the same side for once.

The spinner’s systems light up with the touch of a button. As soon as the computer screen comes online, K checks his messages to find that his madam did send over the coordinates as promised. It only takes a few taps of his fingers to get the GPS running. He straps himself in, harness material digging uncomfortably across his chest, and manually steers the vehicle out of the garage and off of the pavement. Once he reaches cruising altitude, he sets it on autopilot. The spinner can handle itself until he reaches his destination.

During the flight, Officer K studies the provided aerial photos of the location. Nothing of note to see, he memorizes the layout all the same. It never works out to be surprised. He makes notes of where the other officer parked, and unable to help himself, he looks for details on the replicant. His efforts only muster up a number, no photo. A Nexus 9, but so is K and most other police controlled replicants these days. They needed to be stronger, faster; more capable than the older models. Bred for compliance. No mistakes. No abnormalities. Never a state of life too late to cull.

A beeping sound draws him from his contemplation, the spinner has delivered him. He flips off the autopilot and puts his hands on the wheel. He puts the machine down next to the other officer’s on a patch of broken up concrete. It was an old parking lot for what his implicit tells him was a store. It’s nothing but a shell now, roof blown off and the walls crumbling in the acidic elements. Despite the ruin, it still serves to hide them from the more intact warehouse behind it. He ducks out of the spinner into the open air the moment the door lock releases. He pauses for a moment to lean back into the vehicle to deploy his parrotfish. Having it in the air provides a sense of relief. It ensures less work and more security if things go sideways outdoors.

He straightens up and casts a critical look at his surroundings. There is no one else around that he can see. The other spinner is unoccupied, but something catches his attention. There is something written in the growing flakes on top of the other officer’s vehicle. Closer examination reveals that it’s a crudely done map, clearly traced out with a fingertip. It depicts two rectangles and a triangle. There are dashed lined leading from the triangle to the closer of the two rectangles. At the end of the line is an X. Presumably, the map is saying that the other replicant left the spinner and looped around the side of the defunct store and will be waiting at the corner of that building to have a line of sight to the warehouse they are charged with investigating. K feels thankful. This will save him hassle in locating his assigned companion.

A faint shadow passes over K and the map he’s still staring at. He looks up to see that the parrotfish from the spinner is doing lazy circles. His has joined in on the motion. The effect is of two vultures circling a carcass. It would be a bad omen for someone superstitious. Good thing he wasn't made to be.

K follows the barely visible trail in the slush. Deep boot tracks, likely from a male judging from the size of the footwear and the length of the stride. They match his own in a way that makes his stomach roll. Before long, he registers a figure leaning against the wall right where the map had indicated. The other replicant’s head is turned in the direction of the warehouse. Snow has settled over the shoulders of the jacket in a similar thickness to the spinner’s dusting.

There is no reaction from the replicant, even though K knows that the other officer has to be aware of his prescience. He had not been making any effort to mask the sucking sounds of his boots in the slush.

“KS6-2.8.” K’s tone is neutral. It’s not a polite greeting. There is no need for one. They’re here on business and neither is superior to the other. Both came from an artificially constructed womb.

The other replicant turns.

Unpleasantly, K feels the return of the drowning sensation he had felt earlier. It is almost as though someone had placed a mirror in front of him in a dream. The reflection is him, but distinctly not. His mirror image has neatly trimmed facial hair where K has nothing but thick stubble. There are faint crow’s feet by his eyes that K hasn’t aged into yet. If he even gets the opportunity. More startling is a glaring similarity, one that he never would’ve expected. They have the same misalignment of their eyes, the same sagging eyelid. Their genetic source must have had the same flaw.

“KD6-3.7. You’ve been briefed?” The other '9 asks. Nothing is given away on his face. If he’s surprised to see himself looking back into his eyes, he doesn’t show it.

“Yes.” K feels his lips twist up in a smile that seems friendly enough if you don’t look too close. The other officer raises an eyebrow. He’s not fooled. K drops the smile, his eyes harden. His companion’s jaw is working, he’s chewing on something. Tobacco? Gum? Seems like he’s not without his own vices. K supposes that they all must do something to feel a little more human, a little more real.

“You ready? The lead’s not going to get any fresher,” K says as a follow-up when the silence drags on longer than he would like.

KS6-2.8 only nods. The other replicant pushes off the wall and trudges through the ankle deep snow, leading the way. It’s disconcerting watching him. K gets the uneasy sensation he’s watching his own body walk away from him. The hair is longer and the muscles are bulkier, but all the same…

The only sounds to accompany them are the sloppy crunch of their footfalls and the crackling flapping of plastic sheeting somewhere in the distance. They reach the front of the warehouse only to realize that it’s completely blocked off with layers upon layers of chain link. It must have been taken from the building’s product cages. There are no windows.

A low grumble gets K’s attention drawn back to his fellow officer. The other replicant signals him to follow with a crook of his gloved fingers. He’s taking the lead and K knows he should probably find issue with that, but he doesn’t. He is willing to be obedient, for now. It must be the novelty of working alongside someone who doesn’t have the room to maintain a moral high ground.

Once around the corner and at the back of the warehouse, the replicants split up. K briskly angles himself at the loading docks while his assigned partner checks the back door to see if it can be pried open from the outside. He spots a slightly raised loading door. It’s likely wedged fast, but there should be enough clearance for at least him to slide under. With any luck, the additional bulk of his fellow Nexus 9 shouldn’t prohibit him from getting through as well.

No ladder. K quietly whistles to get KS6-2.8’s notice. The response is immediate.

“Got something?” The other replicant asks, moving to stand alongside him. There is a yawning cavern of space between them. It doesn’t feel right.

“Open door.” K responds, a jerk of his head at the sheet metal in question.

With nothing more than a quiet grunt, KS6-2.8 drops into a crouch and offers his cupped hands to him. K accepts the boost, as foreign as the assistance is. Once on the platform, he offers his hand and hauls the other replicant up. There is something comforting about their interlocked hands. K drops it as soon as the other officer is settled and scrambles under the door. The rubber seal catches on the back of his coat. His partner joins him shortly.

The loading area is unlit. Dark. Without the moon’s light bouncing off the snow, K can make out the faint, golden glow of KS6-2.8’s pupils. There are still are still traces of the older generations in them both. If K were sentimental, he would say that his predecessors were something like family. Good thing he wasn't made for that either.

K’s boot catches on something and he stumbles. The concrete floor is littered with old, torn scraps of nylon rope and shreds of plastic wrap. The wood pallets that would have filled this place are long gone. Used for firewood most likely. There’s nothing of apparent value left.

They push their way through into the main part of the warehouse. The shelving has been moved to form corridors. It’s a maze, one with a high possibility of some entity stalking them in these enclosed paths. There is a faint glow accompanied by an odor that makes the hair on the back of K’s neck stand up. Without saying anything, both replicants work their way in that direction. It's slow going. They have to inch sideways in some areas, their shoulders too broad otherwise. K irrationally imagines unraveling a ball of yarn to mark their way out.

The smell is getting worse the closer they get to the light. Bile threatens to rise in his throat alongside the bites of dinner he had swallowed down not even a handful of hours ago. No amount of jobs will ever desensitize him to this. K does not have the stomach for this career. Not that it matters. He was made not to protest.

It’s as though they hit a wall of heat and rot when they breach the center of the maze. Both officers can only stand shoulder to shoulder and take it all in. Bodies circle a gasoline heater, tucked into makeshift beds on the floor. They’ve all been dead for a while. The decomposition appears to be consistent among them all. Mass killing? Suicide? They are all naked.

There is a lit lantern sitting on top of the heater. K can’t believe that the place hasn’t blown. Realization strikes him like a bolt of lightning.

“CO2 poisoning, you think?” asks the replicant at his side, echoing his silent epiphany.

“Probably.”

As one, they spread out into the room. While K turns off the heater, cutting the supply of carbon monoxide being pumped into the warehouse, KS6-2.8 checks each decomposing face. K watches as he holds open the right eyelids of each body to make sure they all still have the eye necessary for their investigation. For each replicant he checks, the other officer reads off numbers taken from one of the files that had been provided to them. There’s no data pad in sight, he might have memorized each face’s corresponding numerical designation.

K knows that they will still have to take the eyes in order for Joshi to be satisfied. Anyone can change their face with enough money and the decomposition is too advanced for their field scanners to read the slowly deflating eyeballs here at the scene. K is mostly just thankful they have eyes left at all. It makes things easier. Replicants rarely receive dental care. The chances of identifying them by their teeth are slim to none.

While he is in the midst of pulling out a roll of evidence bags from an inside pocket, he catches a glimpse of his partner suddenly going stiff and standing up from his crouch beside one of the bodies. He doesn't have the time to question the other replicant. There is a sudden, crushing pain in his side and the edges of his vision go dark. He crumples to the grimy floor and tries to struggle to his feet as his assailant is knocked away by KS6-2.8. His head is ringing. The image of a glowing, white fountain materializes in his scrambled vision. Bile clouds his throat before he realizes that it's only the lantern.

K stands, shakier than he would like, and gets his breathing under control. The scene unfolding before him is disconcerting. KS6-2.8 is wrestling with their attacker, clearly another replicant judging by the way he’s managing to hold out even slightly against K’s fellow officer. K reckons that he must be an older generation given that he’s gradually losing ground. He’s missing the final edge to make it a truly even fight. Despite the disadvantage, the replicant manages to shove KS6-2.8 hard enough that the officer’s foot goes straight through the chest cavity of one of the rotting replicants. Their would-be killer lets out a howl that drowns out any protest from K’s partner, as violent and earsplitting as if it had been his chest that was caved in. K’s fellow ‘9 is forced to let himself fall backwards into the soupy embrace of another corpse as the assailant takes wild swings at his face with a sharp piece of metal produced from a pocket of his ragged jacket. A rudimentary knife.

Still disoriented, K doesn’t think before he pulls his gun out of his shoulder holster and shoots. A red mist signals that the bullet found its mark. The attacking replicant is still alive, even as he falls to his knees and slumps over KS6-2.8. K didn’t shoot to kill. He has questions.

A few strides has him standing over the two replicants. He fists his hand in the back of the assailant's jacket and pulls him off of his companion. His gun is re-holstered and he’s not gentle when he hauls the replicant to his feet. Blood pulses hotly from the wound that K inflicted, soaking through a scarf that is tightly wrapped around his neck. He’s bleeding out. Rapidly. The bullet had nicked a carotid.

KS6-2.8 gets to his own feet with a groan, the back of his jacket soaked through with whatever liquids the dead replicant still had pooling in their body. He hooks his hand under the older gen.’s arm and together he and K shove him up against one of the shelving units forming the room. K holds their attacker steady as his partner slams the hand holding the scrap metal over and over into a shelf post until the replicant is forced to let it fall from his grasp with a clatter onto the concrete.

As soon as the makeshift weapon is out of the equation, K starts his questioning. “What are you doing here?”

Nothing, just a rasping breath. The replicant is wild eyed and frothing at the mouth like a rabid animal K had heard described in a decades old report. It had been from a time when there were still enough real, organic animals around to carry and spread the disease.

“What happened to the others?” He tries again.

That gets a response. “I saved them.”

“Saved them how?” K questions.

“I could have saved you too. But you wouldn’t let me. Sweet dreams. Sweet dreams. Sweet dreams. Sweet… dreams…” The pinned replicant laughs and laughs and laughs, eyes wide and gleaming with a feverish shine.

Suddenly, he lunges at K, tearing out of his and KS6-2.8’s shared grip. The open maw reaches to snap closed on his nose, strings of saliva shining obscenely in the lantern light. His contact is stopped short by a bullet blazing through his left eye, blowing the back of his head open in a nightmarish spread. It’s over. Done. KS6-2.8 saw to that. K can taste the blood in his mouth. His hair is plastered flat with another one of his kind’s brain matter. They had encountered the beast in the maze, their very own Minotaur, and they had slaughtered it.

KS6-2.8 holsters his gun, trading it for a small knife taken from his pocket. He pries the eye out with steady fingers, severs the optic nerve. They let the dead replicant slump down against the shelf. He’s a warden over the eternally slumbering bodies. K retrieves the roll of bags he had dropped in the scuffle. He opens one and lets KS6-2.8 drop the severed eye inside before sealing it. He fills out information panel printed on the thin plastic with a pen that had been stashed inside his pants pocket.

Together, silently, they approach the nearest body in the circle. It is the one with the caved in chest cavity. They both crouch. K steadies the head while the other officer removes the leathery eye. He offers another bag. His partner drops it in. They repeat this same procedure three times before the silence is broken.

“Six.”

K looks up from the face he’s holding. The other replicant is looking at him, blue eyes unflinching. Blood is pooling in the hollow of the collarbone K can just barely see. A question is forming on his lips, but before K can bring it to life, the officer speaks again.

“KS6-2.8. Six.”

Oh. Warmth floods him. They are the same. Interlinked.

“K,” he responds. Something forbidden is clawing at him.

The other replicant, no, Six smiles. His teeth are a dazzling white in the gloom. Predatory. His canines are noticeably sharp compared to the rest of his teeth. They are like his. Would they feel the same as K’s own underneath his tongue? He shakes the thought off, buries it with hundreds of others, and they finish collecting the eyes.

While Six is occupied with a final survey of the rotting scene, K approaches the recently retired replicant. He kneels beside him for a moment, as though he’s paying graveside respects, before he reaches out and unwinds the blood soaked scarf from around his neck. If he still had his eyes instead of one taken and one shot out… well, K isn’t sure how he’d be looking at him. The fabric of the scarf is wet and gritty underneath his fingers, packed with old, infertile soil. He rolls it up and slips it into an inside pocket of his coat. It won’t be missed. He legitimizes his presence at the replicant’s side by picking up the makeshift knife off the floor and depositing it into an evidence bag.

Nothing else comes out of the darkness. There’s old trash strewn on the floors. They don’t find any more bodies, only the drag marks of old blood. It looks as though not all of them had gone peacefully in their sleep from the high concentration of carbon monoxide. Their attacker had gone mad in the dark. They find his ramblings on the walls. Some of it is carved into the material, some of it is painted on with substances they don’t want to address. It’s a manifesto of sorts. It seems like this might have been a splinter of a larger movement.

A team will have to be called in to photograph the scene. K will pour over the evidence later, put the pieces together. He’s going to be spending more time in the bullpen than anyone wants.

They leave the way they came, following an imaginary string. Their pockets are laden down with bags of stolen eyes. The weight of what they had experienced together is a heavier burden.

K slides under first the door first again. He doesn’t need to assist the other officer into standing but he does. Six’s hand is a comfort after what they had just done. The other officer holds on long enough to assist with K’s journey off the loading dock before letting go to drop down beside him.

They walk side by side, close enough that their bloody knuckles brush. K wants to take the other replicant’s hand, feel him finger to finger. He doesn’t dare, not under the open night sky.

“You okay?” Six asks.

“He cared about them.”

His partner’s stride doesn’t falter. He merely makes a noise. Agreement? Placation? K can’t tell. Neither of them can say anything more without tipping their hand and potentially revealing more than is safe.

“Are you?” K asks, biting down the rising tide of things he wants to say instead.

“It’s just another Thursday.”

K nods. He can relate to the sentiment.

They reach the spinners, K unlocks his and drops into the driver’s seat. Six leans against of the side of the vehicle while K powers it on. The LAPD logo appears on the screen. “Madam, please.” he tells the unit. It dials her. She picks up on the second ring.

“You’re a mess.” her tone is curt. Her eyes flick to where she can barely see the other replicant in the frame. Her severe expression deepens to a frown. “Report?”

“There was one survivor. He took the others to the retirement home. Weeks ago from the look of things.”

“Those his brains?” She asks.

“Yes, Madam.”

She makes a considering noise, “You or him?” she asks with a jerk of her head to the other officer.

“Both,” Six cuts in before K can answer. It gets a sigh from Lieutenant Joshi. She is going to have to make sure they both get a bonus. One that, by rights, should be solely Six’s since he was the one who put the final bullet in the old gen. K feels appreciation curl in his gut.

“We have all the eyes, Madam. Should we turn them into evidence or bring them to you directly?” K asks politely, seeking to soothe Joshi’s ire. He does not want a correctional visit from her. He vaguely wonders if the gore spattered vision of him will linger in the back of her mind and keep her at bay for a while. Will she imagine the squish of brain matter between her fingers when thinking about pushing his head down?

“Drop them off. I’ll send a team out for the rest. Come on back for your baselines.”

“Yes, Madam.”

Joshi ends the call, forehead creased with agitation. K recalls his parrotfish. A quick rap of the knuckles on the hood of the spinner and a nod is all the goodbye he gets from Six before the other replicant gets settled in his own spinner and goes through the necessary motions.

They take off, roughly in sync with one another. They are both going back to the LAPD headquarters.

His mind races with the passing city, alight with more curiosity than he should be feeling. Six is not what he expected. He knows that it nearly unheard of to come across another law enforcement owned Nexus with a shared face. The police departments don’t like their skinners to have matches. It complicates things. Their genetic code is engineered to result in different features, even from the same source DNA. They are meant to feel alone, to feel dreadfully distinct.

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