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cherryredstars · 7 months

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Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x gn!reader

Warnings: 18+, Smut with Plot, Light Angst, Comfort, Soft!Simon, Suggested Talk of Death, Gentle Sex, Penetrative Sex, Oral Sex, Aftercare

Summary: Simon has a dangerous job, and it’s not the easiest thing to deal with.

A/N: He needs someone to care for him.

Word Count: 3.5K (Edited)

Maybe it was a silly thing to argue about.

Simon didn’t deserve walking into his home after a long mission only for him to be dragged into an argument with you. But you couldn’t help it. He had made you so scared when a few days ago the other military partners had spammed the group chat about calls and messages they received from their soldiers. They had given news that the latest mission was finished and they were coming home soon. You had perked up when you saw those messages, knowing some of those men and women had been in the same deployment group as Ghost. You had excitingly expected to get a similar message from Simon, but as hours and days began to pass with no word, your anxieties had begun to surface. The worst scenarios ran through your head with every notification that wasn’t from Simon and you had to find ways to distract yourself.

So, when Simon had walked through that door, no visible injuries in sight, you had blown up on him. You had taken all your anger and worry and frustration out on him, causing a fight between the two of you. Simon had argued that since he was of higher rank he had more duties to attend to even after returning back to base and in response you argued that it took two seconds to type out a one word text like “okay” or “back”. In the end, the both of you had taken some time to cool down before regrouping and apologizing after seeing the other’s point.

Once the heat had died down, you and Simon laid in bed. You were curled against his chest as his hands played mindlessly with your hair. The both of you were silent as you took in the other person’s presence. Your hand rubbed up and down Simon's chest gently and you pressed a small kiss through his shirt. “I’m sorry.”

Simon held you tighter to him and kissed the top of your head, “I know.”

Another stretch of silence follows before you feel Simon shift. His hand comes to gently grab your chin, raising your head towards him. He looks down at you, a far away look on his face as his thumb strokes your jawline. You just stare at him in silence, seeing something forming behind his eyes. When he zones back in, he whispers so softly that you think you might have missed it if you weren't so close to him.

“Do you ever get tired of this? Tired of waiting for a dead man to come back?” His brow furrows and a flash of pain swarms his eyes as he thinks about every time he probably scared you shitless. He thinks of the nights you spent in this bed, cold and alone and scared you’ll wake up the next day to receive a call to tell you that’s how you’ll spend the rest of your nights. “Am I asking too much from you by making you wait here for me and letting you take care of me when I get back?”

Simon’s questions shock you and you can only look up at him with a scrunched up face as he waits patiently for your answer. You both sit in silence as you think about your answer, but you know it before it fully forms in your head.

“No. No, I don’t. I think…” You pause, trying to find the right way to word your next sentence. “I think you don’t ask for things enough. You don’t ask me enough. I love that you let me take care of you, Simon. But, whatever I do for you, it never feels like enough.”

You pause once again and open your mouth just to close it again. You take a deep breath, your own hand coming up to cradle Simon’s jaw as he watches you. Your eyes look up to his eyes before looking away and shrugging. “Sometimes… all the time…I’m scared that I won’t get enough time with you.”

Your words cause Simon to grit his teeth and his hands leave your body so he can clench them. He looks away from your face, instead staring over your head and towards a wall. Seeing the way he tensed, you slowly start to remove your hands away from him. You know the best thing to do when he’s like this is to give him space. When you try to scoot your body away, one of his hands shoots up to softly grab your hand to keep it pressed into his chest as his head tilts back towards you.

“Stay.” He mutters the word as he stares into your eyes, scanning them for something. “Please.”

You nod, relaxing back into your former position as he forces his hands to relax as he places them back on your body. He tilts his head further down, burying his face into your hair and breathing in your scent. You smell like your shampoo and he lets it fill his senses. His hand trails down to your back and he traces words. You don’t think he even realizes he’s doing it.

“I would never leave you. Not willingly.” Simon speaks up again, his small gulp audible in the silence. His hold on you tightens slightly, like he thinks someone might separate you in the next moment.

Your hands bunch up his shirt, the material clenched in your fists. You close your eyes as you take the time to breathe him in too. He still smells like the hot sun and gunpowder. You squeeze your eyes tighter as you feel tears building up behind your lids. You don’t want to cry, but this topic always makes your heart ache.

“I know. I just-” Your voice cracks a bit and you clear your throat before you start again. “I just worry. I’m worried every time you’re away. And when you’re home, I’m worried that none of this will last. Worried that it might be the last time you walk back through that door. I don’t think I could ever survive if you never come home, Simon.”

As you spoke, shaky breaths escaped you until they turned into hiccups as tears started to roll down your cheeks. You had seen first hand the way some of the other soldiers’ partners had reacted when they found out their significant other wasn't coming back. Had seen the way it had broken them. And every time, behind your sympathy and sadness for them, you find the small relief that it isn’t your soldier. That it’s not you receiving that news because Ghost had taken care of Simon. But then, you get scared again. What if karma comes back to bite you and you’re next?

The way you speak and cry into him, it breaks Simon’s heart. He knows that he’s a cruel man. He has killed thousands of people. Had walked away from missions bathed in spilt blood. Seen enough horrors in the world to last every lifetime. But laying next to you, without Ghost’s mask on, hearing what he puts you through, this might be the cruelest thing he’s done. He is a selfish and cruel man for filling your mind with those soul-crushing thoughts while refusing to let you go. He wishes he could do something to mend those pieces, but it is so hard to do something he was never taught to do. Hard to attempt something as kind as comfort when all he has known is destruction. But he needs to try, because whatever kills you, kills him too.

“I love you.”

He stiffens instantly when he says the words. You know about the twisted view of love Simon has, growing up with a family who used those words as an excuse to hurt each other. You know the discomfort he has when that word is brought up. You know how hard it must be for him to say them to you, even if he does feel that way. Hesitantly, you look up at him with a half-hearted smile. “Simon, you don’t ne-”

“I. Love. You.” He says it with more conviction this time, pronouncing the words carefully. Like maybe you didn’t understand him the first time and he wants you to. His eyes find yours and he holds a serious expression on his face.

His body is still stiff, but he takes deep breaths as he turns you on your back. He hovers over you, pressing his forehead to yours while his forearms hold him up. He closes his eyes and sighs before opening them again and pressing a soft kiss to your lips. Your hands fall from his shirt and go to grasp his shoulders as you close your eyes and open your mouth for him. The softest of noises travel on his breath as his tongue caresses yours and his hand comes up to your cheek. His thumb is soft as it brushes tears away.

When he pulls away, he kisses the tears away from the other side of your face. He follows the tear streaks down your face, giving a soft lick to your jaw before kissing down the length of your neck. He sucks gently at the skin, apologizing for the sting with cooling kisses. The soft moan that rumbles in your throat causes a small smile to distort his lips. He shifts his position so his knees are pressed into the bed as his hands move to ghost down your sides. He reaches the hem of your shirt and tugs on it gently. “Can I take this off?”

You breathe out a yes and he sits up, reaching behind him to grab his shirt and pull it off over his head before gently taking yours off. He throws them to the floor, coming back to press soft kisses to your collarbone and neck. Your own hands come up to hold the back of his neck, keeping your hold light and not applying any pressure. Simon hums into your skin and one of his hands goes down to unbuckle his belt and remove it from around his waist. He unbuttons and unzips his pants, but makes no move to take them off. His hand then comes back, squeezing your sides.

His hand moves to the waistband of your sleeping bottoms, removing his face from your skin so it’s hovering in front of yours. He silently asks for permission to take them off, and you silently nod before he pulls them down your legs. He kisses down your leg, stopping at the side of your knee. When they’re off, he stands up to push his pants down his legs and hovers above you again. The both of you are in nothing but your underwear as Simon’s eyes look down your body. He lets out a breathless exhale, still astonished that something as pure as you would let a man like him see you like this. He presses a kiss to your forehead and whispers into your hairline, “You’re breathtaking, you know that, lovie?”

His gruff accent causes shivers down your spine and your hands rub up and down his chest. You lean forward and press a kiss over his heart. The flesh is warm against your mouth and you can feel each beat. You lean your head back down on the sheets, finding Simon’s eyes again and smiling. “You’re gorgeous, Simon. I love you.”

Your soft words cause emotion to build up in his throat. They’re thick and it's hard to breathe around them. He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against your head again, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. The both of you hold still and enjoy the peacefulness of the moment before Simon leans down to give you a quick peck on the lips. “Fuck, I don’t deserve you. But I’ll do everything I can to keep you.”

You can’t do anything but give him a giddy smile that causes a smile of his own. He chuckles slightly and shakes his head before his hand brushes his fingers against your inner thigh. A soft sigh leaves your mouth and you grab a hold of his hand to hold it over where you need it. His fingers instantly feel the moisture on your underwear and he lets out a soft hiss. His eyes drop down to where his hand is before snapping back to your eyes, “Can I remove them? Can… can I touch you?”

“Always. I trust you.” You whispered to him. The words make his heart explode and he keeps them close to his chest. You trust him. Him of all people. Your trust may be the greatest gift anyone has ever given him.

Simon pulls your underwear off, taking his off right after. His hands come up to massage your thighs before one of his hands comes to ghost over you, watching your face for your reaction. He enjoys the way your mouth falls open and you whisper his name quietly. Like it’s only for his ears to hear. Like everything you are allowing him to do are things his hands will only be able to do. His body is warm and he’s sure admiration shines in his eyes as he stares at you. He knows this will not make your worries go away completely, but it will keep your mind off of it for now. And that’s all Simon can hope for: to bring a little peace and comfort into your life for all the times you gave it to him.

His hands gently caress you, his fingers growing sticky with the arousal that flows from you. Each movement causes beautiful noises to fall from your lips that soak Simon in love. He pulls his fingers away, sucking them in his mouth to taste the arousal that drips from them. He lets out a satisfied hum as he tastes it bloom on his tongue. He comes up to you again to place a delicate kiss that has you groaning as you taste yourself on his lips. When he pulls away, he whispers soft praises about how lovely you sound, declaring he can listen to your voice forever. When he asks you if he can taste more of you, you giggle and kiss his cheek with a nod.

He’s quick to scoot down the bed so his face hovers over your sex. His hands wrap around your thighs so his hands lay flat on your stomach. “Keep your eyes on me, okay, love?”

You don’t get time to respond as his hot mouth latches onto you. A soft whine leaves your mouth as you watch him, his eyes looking up at you from between your legs. He licks and sucks on you, feasting as if this might actually be the last time he ever gets to do this. Your hands grab onto his hands that still lay on your stomach, trying to stop yourself from throwing your head back or closing your eyes. A soft curse leaves your mouth as you let out a whimper. You feel that delicious warmth pool at the bottom of your stomach and you try to warn Simon. He only lets out a hum and continues what he’s doing, not slowing down or speeding up.

When you explode, he drinks it all up. He leaves your sex with happy sighs, pressing his sticky mouth to your thighs and mumbling more praises against the skin. So sweet for me. Always looking so good. You take it so well. Perfect, perfect, perfect. You give him a breathless smile, finally leaning your head back as you try to get your breath back. It’s no longer than two seconds before Simon’s face is back in your view. You can’t help the small tilt of your head as you giggle at his furrowed brows. “Why did you look away?”

Your smile widens and you shake your head. He’s so cute. You bite your lip and give him a quick kiss, mumbling a sorry. From his new position, Simon’s tip rubs softly against you, causing your body to shiver in anticipation. Once he sees your reaction, he lifts his hips slightly so his head doesn’t touch you anymore, making you whine. “It’s okay, Simon. You can slide in whenever you’re ready.”

Simon’s body relaxes again and he lets his hips go back to their previous position. “Please, don’t look away this time.”

You nod your head, whispering a small ‘I promise’ before his hand reaches down to see if you’re actually ready for him to slide in. He takes a deep breath before he looks down briefly, watching his hand wrap around his base and nudging it towards your entrance. He looks back up at you as he aligns himself before he slides in. You both let out a moan as he slowly slides himself in. His gaze is steady on your face, watching for any sign of discomfort. When he bottoms out, he lets out a breath that was suspended in his lungs. He lets his hand rest next to your head, fingers slipping through your hair, “Are you okay, does it hurt?”

“No. It feels perfect.” Your words breath warm air against his skin and he nods. He holds eye contact, resting his forehead against yours as he starts thrusting slowly. He pulled out more and more as he continued. His thrusts are getting deeper and deeper, but never faster. Each buck of his hips causes you to moan and your hands hold onto his shoulders as he makes steady love to you. He isn’t doing anything different from every other time he has shown his love for you, but it still feels different. It feels like a silent apology, a promise. It feels like this will never stop, that this won’t be the last time.

Tears begin to build up in your eyes and you bite your lip to contain a sob. Simon instantly stops, he knows you’re not hurt, but he asks anyway. You shake your head wordlessly and pull him into a deep kiss. Simon grabs onto your face as he kisses you back, his thrusts starting up again. He presses deep kisses to your lips, trying to breathe unspoken words into your mouth. When he pulls away, his hands gather the sheets in his fists as he moans out. His brows furrowed as he looked down at you, his mouth dropped open as he muttered the words that caused flutters to expand in your stomach.

I love you. I love you. I love you. I’ll always try to find my way back home to you. You are my home.

A watery laugh escapes you that quickly turns into moans as you feel yourself near your peak. Simon lets out a grunt, verbalizing that he’s about to finish, too. With a few more deep strokes, you both groan as you finish together. Both of you pant as you look at each other before Simon wraps his arms around you and buries his head in the crook of your neck. Against the skin he asks you to stop crying and you whisper back an ‘okay’. You both sit and lay there, holding onto each other as you kiss his shoulder and your fingers glide over his back.

Once he has caught his breath, Simon pulls away silently, pressing a kiss to your lips while pulling out. You feel empty once he’s gone, watching him leave into the bathroom before coming back with a towel. He kneels on the bed, his hands gentle as he wipes the mess between your thighs. He takes care to not overstimulate you, pressing a soft kiss to your stomach before getting up again and disappearing out of the room after throwing the towel in the laundry. He comes back again, a water bottle in his hand as he holds it up to your mouth. He whispers to be careful as you drink from it, not wanting you to drink too much at a time. When he asks you if you need anything else you ask him to hold you. He pulls out the blanket and carries you as he slips in under it, covering the both of you. He presses soft kisses to your head as he plays with your hair, whispering more sweet nothings into the air until you fall asleep.

When you wake up the next morning, you turn around in search of Simon. You find his side empty, already made. But on his pillow, metal shines from the sunlight coming in. You smile widely as you take it in your hands, the slightly heated metal of Ghost’s dog tag resting in your palm. Your fingers trace the raised letters before you slip the chain around your neck. You get out of bed and dress yourself in Simon’s shirt from off the floor before walking out of your room. Down the hall, you can hear the sound of a kettle whistling and slight shuffling.

You stop in the hall, closing your eyes and taking it all in as you hold on to the tag.

He’s home.

Simon content pre-write 1.

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the-magpie-archives · 2 years

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You see, Martin says 'I grieved for you' to Jon, but this doesn't do justice for just what he would have gone through.

As most people know, having a loved one in hospital is horrible, but Jon's case is an entirely different thing. Assuming Jon was initially taken to a hospital in Great Yarmouth, it would've taken Martin a while to get there, even if he left right away. He might have missed Jon's emergency treatment, but he certainly didn't miss the worst of it.

Many people assume that CPR is a quick, simple, lifesaving procedure, it is not. Jon was found not breathing, and without a pulse, so he would have had at least 20 minutes straight of CPR, and that messes up a body. On a person as weak as Jon it would badly break ribs, and cause a lot of bruising. Even if Martin didn't have to watch Jon's chest be crushed to no avail, that type of damage is often visible.

I don't know if you've ever seen a dead body, but it's different to an unconscious one in every way. Jon of course, was not dead, but he would absolutely look it. As I'm sure you know, blood being pumped is what keeps the body warm, and breathing accounts for a large part of what we perceive as living, so the absence of both of these, especially in a loved one, is jarring, and likely to send anyone into shock

In lots of TV shows you see doctors calling deaths, but in reality it's actually quite a difficult thing to diagnose. It's not a quick check of the pulse and you're done, there's a lot of tests; there are many conditions that can look like death. In Jon's case his mind and nerves were still active, meaning it would have been picked up on fairly quickly, but Jon would have been assumed dead until these tests were completed.

The thing with a case like this, is there's nothing the doctors can feasibly do; as Elias says, it's an unknown quantity. The most likely course of action would be to make him as comfortable as possible, and redo the death checks every so often. There would be no hope for his recovery, but legally the hospital would have to do this, and would be able to offer very little comfort.

Although of course you want your loved one to survive, many family members of coma patients confess to hoping that they'd just die. The limbo of waiting is impossible to process, and having them there but having no way to communicate with them can be excruciating. There's no way to properly grieve for someone if you always have it in the back of your mind that they could wake up.

Giving up on someone like that is terribly and awfully painful. You can tell them you're sorry all you want, but you'll always be thinking about how they'd have wanted you to stay. Having to create both sides of an interaction like that when truly you're in control of neither is simply impossible to recover from.

Every action Martin took after Jon's death was justified, logical, even. To succumb to the lonely after leaving the man you love, sentencing him to die alone?

It feels right.

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alastrrz · 1 month

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headcannons for getting drunk with tgc?

like how high their tolerance to alcohol is,

what they usually have,

and stuff similar?

ignore my 'ideas' if you dont wanna do them <3

🫧 anon

absolutely!! i love making hcs like this (i also won't be including larry bc he isn't of legal age to drink :P)

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ﾟ。 drunk ; tgc boys

　ﾟ･｡･ﾟ

genre/type: fluff/humor, headcanons

read below!

ISAAC;

absolute unbeatable tolerance. insane tolerance. dude can take 6 shots of everclear and still walk a straight line.

you've only seen isaac blackout ONCE, and it was complete accident. you hadn't seen isaac drinking that much, but he was actually borderline drunk. he asked you in a pretty sober sounding voice, "how many drinks have i had? should i stop?" you say, "i've only seen you take like 2 shots. drink some more!"

horrible move. he blacked out and also woke up with the world's worst hangover.

ever since then though, his tolerance, like i said, is rock solid.

he likes the classic drinks, so i'd say he likes a good screwdriver.

super clingy and COCKY when he's drunk.

drowning you in kisses and hugs, and he goes, "babe, i'm soooo hot. i'm soooo hot and sexy.."

"sure you are."

your two options are to kill his ego or boost it, but it kills you too much to deflate his ego.

"how cocky was i last night?"

"yeah."

TANNER;

moderately normal tolerance, maybe a TINY bit lower than the average person in their mid-20's.

like, if we're measuring in shots of vodka again, like 4 1/2 shots he'd be gone. not black out gone, but "i'm gonna talk about every celebrity i could probably pull" gone.

he's such a YAPPER when he's drunk dude.

will probably do the trend of writing fake band names to try and make you laugh

he's dancing around to loud ass music in the kitchen, invites you to dance with him, he immediately starts shoving himself against you

he won't shut up about how much he loves you

he's definitely got his head in your lap and he's making you play with his hair and listen to him talk

however you have to stop him talking at a certain point, because he'll just start having a crisis and making himself sad.

he's never blacked out, but he has terrible hangovers.

favorite drink? he strikes me as a daiquiri kinda guy. he'd love them.

but if it's more casual drinking at home, he's happy with some soju.

NICK;

literally AVERAGE tolerance.

about 2-3 shots of vodka has him tipsy, 4-6 has him drunk, and don't give him more than 8, he might start drunkenly making an album.

he's not a clear liquor guy, he prefers browns like brandy or scotch.

there is almost ALWAYS a bottle of whiskey in the fridge for nick, he never runs out.

he drinks regularly, but he doesn't HEAVILY drink on those nights.

he's super sleepy when he's drunk. he could literally fall asleep anywhere if given the opportunity

he could be laying on the floor to "stretch his back" he's asleep 10 minutes later

you have to carry this dude to bed (and if you can't do it alone, isaac helps you)

like i said he prefers drinking brown liquors, so i think he'd maybe like a tequila sunrise or just straight whiskey

BLAKE;

"i have a ROCK SOLID tolerance!" dead in 3 shots. don't listen to him lie to you

every time you and the guys go out for dinner at like chilis or something, blake orders a margarita and everyone sighs in unison

the margarita gets him on the verge of drunk. just a little past tipsy.

he can HARDLY casually drink with anyone because his tolerance is just THAT bad

you constantly pick at him for it but he's just accepted it at this point

he's so SILLY when he's drunk man

cracking jokes that do NOT land at all and are not funny unless he's talking to a bunch of drunk people

"so the.. uh.. what? yeah.. uh.."

he suddenly forgets english

he can barely formulate a SINGLE sentence and he's basically speaking in mumbles

he's like speaking in fancy or speaking in riddles like a troll under the bridge or some shit

you have to baby him while he's drunk or he won't know what the hell is going on

i think he honestly.. just likes whatever he can get his hands on.

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luvring · 7 months

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ASTROLOGY BOT

1.2k words, just timeskip akaashi overthinking and crushing on gn!reader. LOL

akaashi has always considered himself ‘on the fence’ when it comes to superstitions and signs from the universe.

he might say ghosts aren’t real, but never goes near a supposedly haunted site just in case. he’ll ignore videos titled “for you” if he can’t relate, say it must have been a sign only after something goes wrong, and never acts on them even if he knows he has to.

but he can’t deny that he thinks about it throughout the day when it’s something he hopes is true—that maybe he’s tried out a few filters and trends to see if you, his crush of way too long, were his soulmate.

it’s bokuto this time, though, that sends him a sign.

a tweet, really.

an astrology bot on twitter that tweeted 17 minutes ago— “sagittarius, tell them you like them. they like you, too.”

AKAASHI!!!

i told you!!!

i turned their post notifications on to see if they’d say anything funny again and LOOK!!!!

keiji watches his friend’s texts come in through as notifications, eyes mostly fixed on the tweet, re-reading it over and over.

it’s a minute before he texts back.

it’s just a bot bokuto

it doesn’t actually mean anything

but bokuto is typing replies in mere seconds,

awwwww come on :((

remember when they were like

be careful virgo they don’t have the best intentions >:(

and IT WAS ABOUT ME ALMOST GETTING SCAMMED!! THEY STOPPED A SCAM!!! O____O

whats the worst thing that could happen???

i mean.. well…at least the worst thing that could happen ISNT u losing a bunch of money T_____T

imagine if u lost hundreds of dollars bc u confessed ;——; scary…

keiji breathes out a laugh.

i won’t lose hundreds of dollars but it’d haunt me for the rest of my life like every other embarrassing thing that’s ever happened and u know that

but thank you

i’ll think about telling them

he’s vaguely aware of bokuto sending another text with his name in all caps before he turns off his phone. it lands somewhere beside him on his comforter, and he takes off his glasses if only to run his hands down his face.

there’s a feeling he gets, akin to both butterflies and a 10 meter drop, when one of these bots decides to let his imagination get away from him.

for a few minutes keiji lets himself think it might be true, and that you think about going on dates with him the same way he does with you.

the latest idea he had was taking you to a new board game cafe that had opened nearby. he had skipped then swiped back up to its ad—a perfect spot for couples looking to spice up a regular cafe date!

he hadn’t closed his curtains properly that night, and the moon lit up his room while he stared at the ceiling. would you be competitive? would you rather play a co-op game?

would you see him sipping on his drink, and ask to have a taste?

he thought about how he might accidentally have some foam above his lip, and how you’d softly laugh before tapping above your own to signal his appearance. he cringed at the possible humiliation of looking silly in front of you, but it went away with the foam you’d gently swipe with your thumb, or maybe even hold his face to kiss away instead. you’d tease him and say it was as sweet as him.

but it’s nonsensical.

as far as keiji knows, whoever runs the account is using a random generator to pick a sign and bullshitting every tweet in their drafts.

it’s almost always only a sentence anyway.

but does that mean it’s a sign that this one was two?

keiji forces himself to stop thinking and takes a deep breath, letting the warmth hit his palms still covering his face. silence washes over him, and he lets his ears focus on the traffic outside, and the sound of the washing machine running a couple of rooms away.

but then he thinks about you. and he scrunches his eyes shut and groans, hands moving to grip his hair before he rolls over onto his stomach.

there’s a thud as his phone hits the ground while he pulls the blanket to cover his head.

sagittarius, tell them you like them. they like you, too.

not just tell them you like them, as if it was a shove to be courageous for once, but they like you, too.

did you like him, too?

was he good enough for you to like him?

did you hate him?

was he going to trust an astrology bot as uninformed about your feelings as he was?

maybe more importantly, was he going to let a bot dictate whether he finally confesses to you after almost a year of pining? a year based on the fact that one day you held the elevator door open for him with a smile and already knew what floor he needed?

(you had noticed him as the new employee, though he didn’t notice you while busy getting used to his job. he made sure to note the fact you got off the floor above him so he could press the button for you next time.)

and keiji doesn’t really believe in signs or the supernatural. he doesn’t want to let himself, because if he does then there’s probably a ghost in that shut-down building on his way to work, he’s gotten himself twenty years of bad luck, and he’s big enough of a coward that the universe decided to take it upon itself to tell him that itself.

but he’s hiding under his blanket when the absurdity of it all hits him—the anxiety and what-ifs and pretending he didn’t know you liked going for lunch a little earlier than him, and that he didn’t plan his break to say hello—and he feels like he’s sixteen again.

and maybe if there’s one thing he doesn’t want to feel other than being rejected, he thinks it’s being sixteen again.

so he jolts up.

and somewhere, in the back of his mind, keiji wonders if the universe jolted up with him, excited to see where this goes.

adrenaline working, he reaches for his glasses and fumbles to put them on with one hand while the other feels the floor to find his phone. the bright screen makes him squint, and the notification of bokuto’s “AKAASHIII :((” welcomes him before anything else.

sagittarius, tell them you like them. they like you too.

the tweet seems to be engraving itself into his mind as his shaky fingers hold his phone, and he taps your icon.

he skims the last text you had sent,

thanks keiji!! i’ll see u tomorrow then :) and remember we get off early!

it's a little embarrassing how his chest tightens at you his name and a smiley face. but he goes to type one himself, spending a second to mentally tell the astrology account they’re changing lives, but nothing more or else he thinks he might throw up—

btw if you’re free, did you want to grab food after work? there’s a cafe i wanted to check out with you :)

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #akaashi x reader #akaashi fluff #haikyuu x gn!reader #hmm.... going 2 make a ramble post 4 this

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twinklelilstarkey · 1 year

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Tutor: Aiden

Words: 5.1k+ Type: Smut (brief) & Angst Summary: When going to a party, you get to see someone you haven't seen in a while. Warnings: Fem!Reader. SMUT {very quick and brief; both of them are intoxicated; piv (no protection)} VIOLENCE (yes, the gif is a hint), MENTIONS OF BLOOD, DESCRIPTION OF FIGHTING, mentions of alcohol, mentions of exes and not-so-nice name-calling.

Tutor Masterlist (for context, you should REALLY read chapter "Sunbathing" <3)

I do NOT give you permission to repost my work. If you’d like to read my stories on other platforms, you can find them on my Wattpad and AO3.

And thank you so much for the 6.6k+ followers!!!

Saying that you needed to come to this party is both a shock to your past self and the truest sentence you’ve ever said. Not that you’ve come to enjoy parties, far from it, but you do need to be in a place where everything is loud and chaotic enough to completely muffle your mind. You need noise and maybe a little alcohol.

You’ve been dealing with a ridiculous amount of work from school, Wheezie is beginning to fall back in her studies, and, the worst of all, the girls.

Whatever happened with them on Monday carried on for the whole rest of the week. The lack of conversation towards you whenever they’re all together and the looks you’ve noticed them give you while they talk between themselves during class. You have no idea what could be going on, and it is only leading you to overthink.

You’ve been thinking on a daily basis of the possibility of the girls knowing about Rafe, but, each time, your thoughts were calmed down with Kristy herself. She has been the one that talked the most with you these days, even though it’s a lot less than she used to. And she acts natural. As if nothing ever annoyed the girls or hurt them to the point of… doing this. Therefore, it only leaves you to think that you might have done something before Monday.

Was it because of Alex? Maybe they liked him a bit too much, and Kristy is the only one that accepts that you don’t think you could be anything with him. Maybe you said something bad? But when? You didn’t spend any more time with them which could’ve led to an argument. If anything, they were happier prior to the date because you were going on the damned date.

Thinking it could be you and Rafe is something that goes through your mind at the worst times, even when you’re with him. You’ve talked to him about it, but Rafe can’t help but feel a little helpless in all of this. He has never met your friends. All he knows about them is what you’ve told him, and that is nowhere near enough to make conclusions, only assumptions.

There was something he said that eased your mind, “Isn’t Kristy who dislikes me the most? Then wouldn’t she be the one acting like a bitch?” And it makes sense, even when you felt like the insult was unnecessary. If it had been about you two, Kristy would’ve probably never looked you in the eyes. Let alone still talked, smiled, or hugged you like before.

And the cure for all your stress, said Rafe, is partying and alcohol. There was a time this week when all your worries regarding the number of people at the party completely evaporated, and all you wanted was to hang out with more people and forget all about these girls. Even when it still hurt. So, you decided to go by his advice.

Once you stepped inside the warm house where the party is taking place, you were pulled into a hug by Patty right as your foot touched the hardwood flooring. You laughed with her as she squeezed you into her arms, while, at the same time, making sure to curse Rafe out for never taking you to more parties so that the two of you could hang out.

And, whether you like it or not, Patty did separate you from Rafe almost instantly. She wanted to get you a drink. So, as soon as your bodies were disconnected from the hug, her hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled you into the direction of the sea of people who seemed to not have the courage to jump into the pool just yet.

It’s been maybe an hour since you got to this party, and you haven’t seen Rafe since you came in. It stays like that for, possibly, an hour, but, at some point, Patty decides to walk elsewhere which only leads you to go find Rafe.

When you find him, he’s by the sliding doors that lead to the outside, amongst other guys from his usual group, and when you stand near him, it only takes a slight look down at you for Rafe to welcome you by his side.

To no one’s surprise, the conversation you get to listen to is very much boring, so the music outside and watching the people jumping into the pool is much better for entertainment. People are more than drunk already, and they’re jumping from all sorts of places into the pool. Other people just dance by it, and others sit at the chairs, deep in conversation.

The breeze that hits you from the open door you’re looking out of is just chlorine and some miss of alcohol, not exactly the best of smells.

By the time you and Rafe are left alone and happen to have a conversation on the most random of topics, your eyes are going from his face to the outside, finding people extremely interesting. His friends have begun to go outside as well.

Your hands are resting on his torso. Whereas for his, they go from holding your waist, so that you can stand still and close to him, to sometimes squeezing it to get your attention.

“No, that is dumb.” You tell him with a big smile on your face when you see him smile just as much. “How do they get home if he does that?”

“Soaking wet, probably.” He tells you, “It happens more times than you think.”

“But why? Where’s the fun in pushing people in the pool?” You continue to discuss Topper’s favorite activity whenever he’s very drunk at a pool party.

“Want to find out?”

Rafe is already pulling you off of him so that you can start making your way outside, but he can’t even hold back his smile when your eyes widen at his statement and even more at his actions.

There is absolutely no way that he’s offering to bring you into the fun of coming up behind a random person and just pushing them into the pool. In drunk-Topper’s philosophy, why would anyone come to this party and not expect to go in the pool? But, thankfully, you do not share the same philosophy.

You pull at Rafe’s wrist to hold him back from continuing to tease you about the whole thing, and he does. But, now that you two stand outside, you can tell his next step from a mile away. It's all from the way Rafe's smile changes from a playful one to a malicious one.

It’s by record time that you let go of his wrist and take a step back to escape him. Your heart has begun to beat faster as you look at your boyfriend, the same one that just stands handsomely in front of you as if he isn’t threatening to get you soaked to the bone in cold water.

“No.” You say to him as a warning, and he takes a step closer to you.

You dumbly hold out your hand as if that can ever stop him from getting to you, and every time he takes a step closer to you, you take one back. You, thankfully, notice that you’re getting backed up into a corner before you don’t have enough space to escape.

Once escaping from being backed up into the sliding door, you look around for some sort of backup. Specifically, one shaped like Patricia herself, even if that means sacrificing her. She is nowhere to be seen.

That slight distraction makes Rafe get closer to you, and you let out a sound that resembles a giggle and a scream, but not quite when you feel his hand just graze you. The two of you laugh together as you take another step back and find the sound that came out of you extremely interesting.

“Don’t, please.” You try to plead your way out of this, but Rafe only seems more entertained once you do it.

“I’m not trying to do anything, you’re just running away for no reason.” Rafe tries to tell you as his smile continues to stretch and tries to grab you yet again.

“Rafe,” You start, but you are very much interrupted when he gets yet too close again.

Over the sound of your voice, not too far from you, comes a cheer of someone’s name. A name that is familiar to you. As you look up to see for a few seconds, you are solely focused on him. He’s wearing normal clothes, ones typical for a warmer night. His hair could be a little longer, but he looks the same since the last time you’ve seen him. Aiden looks the same since the night you broke up with him.

Before you know it, your back hits the side railing of the porch, and your attention is brought back to Rafe, who happily gets a hold of you, having no idea who stands behind him. Rafe’s hands hold you and pick you up, and the sudden panic of being thrown into the pool comes back.

You try to get away from him by moving around and pushing him away from you, but as you now try the technique of holding him closer so that he can’t throw you anywhere, you notice how much he’s smiling at all of this. The bastard.

“Please, don’t do it.” You say to him.

Rafe’s response is to turn around to go in the direction of the pool, and you swear that you had no control of your body when you let out a certain shriek of panic.

“What do I get in return?”

“A non-wet girlfriend.” You tell him, making him laugh in your face. “That’s not enough?”

His silence is enough of an answer.

You fake a shocked expression and a clear look of disbelief, and Rafe just takes a step closer to the crowd.

“I will pull you in with me.”

“I have your phone in my pocket.” He reminds you

“I don’t care.” You say seriously, but with a chuckle following your words right away, breaking your character.

As Rafe continues to walk towards the pool, you simply hold him tighter, and you’re not sure how many times you tell him ‘please’ and ‘don’t’ as he makes his way to it. You make purely fake promises of how you will do anything he wants if he just doesn’t do this, or how you will buy him whatever he needs, but those promises fall on deaf ears.

“I will hate you forever.” You try your last resource.

He doesn’t even flinch at the words. You have no idea how distant from the pool you are at this point, but you only hold onto him tighter. If he really wants to throw you in, he’ll have to jump in himself, you are not about to surrender.

Knowing exactly how you have no idea of your surroundings, Rafe simply pauses and pretends to let you fall. And that is probably the funniest thing he could’ve ever done, because you let out one of those screams again and, when noticing that you’re still in his arms, you begin to repeat your previous promises while kissing his cheek.

Rafe only lets this torture last for a few more seconds before he actually lets go, which only leads you to believe that you’re being dropped into the pool again. You granted him a great smack in the arm right as your feet touched perfectly solid ground.

As you scowled at him, obviously mad at what he did to you just now, Rafe only smiles, holding your face as you do a frown that he can’t take seriously ever. He kisses you a few times, and that is what makes Aiden stand up straighter.

Aiden hasn’t seen you in a while, nor did he wish to. The heartache you gave him had been enough for him to want to stay away from you for the rest of eternity. All the missed calls or ignored texts after you two had broken up. It all hurts like the ache of a scar formed from a deep wound. A pain that never leaves, it just changes.

It has been more than a year, and he hasn’t seen you. You’re still absolutely beautiful, and you haven’t changed much, except for the fact that you have started dating again, by the looks of it.

Aiden has tried to pull his eyes away from you more than once, but his curiosity happens to be his worst enemy. He wants to keep looking. He wants to see if you’ve changed in the slightest bit, and he might even want to see the face of the person you’ve begun dating. He has looked away everytime the guy turned around and showed his face. Aiden only wanted to see you.

“Who are you looking at?” His friend asks, noticing how he has spaced out for a minute or two.

Aiden watches as you pull away from the kiss and how the frown is gone from your face. Your eyes are glued to the guy you kissed. His hand is on your face, holding it in place, thumb on one cheek as the other fingers hold the other. Your boyfriend kisses your pouty lips before saying something, Aiden assumes, teasingly, which leads to you smacking his arm and making the guy laugh.

He can read your lips when you pull away from his hold on your face and say “I will throw you in” with a serious expression on your face. The guy says something, and Aiden watches while you pursue your lips and look away to not laugh.

When the guy turns around this time, Aiden doesn’t look away. Someone must have called your boyfriend to get his attention away from you because he had moved so quickly. But Aiden wasn’t exactly expecting to see Rafe. Nothing would've prepared Aiden to see him.

Rafe brings his attention back to you when answering whatever someone had just asked him, and you had just started taking steps away. You tell him something that Aiden doesn’t understand, and Rafe reacts instantly to your words. He moves over to you and throws you over his shoulder, making you almost squeal your words while laughing at the same time.

“Aiden!” Aiden’s other friend calls out, “Come get drinks with us.”

Didn’t even need to tell him twice.

(...)

You’ve had a lot more to drink than you first planned to. You haven’t become completely out of control, but you are very much tipsy. You will trip if you walk by yourself for too long, and you will laugh at everything someone will tell you. With that, Rafe decided not too long ago that it was a better idea to have you seated somewhere and not having you walk around a pool.

As the night grew colder, everyone began to slowly go into the house and continue to party inside as well. Rafe has been sitting next to you on the couch ever since then, in a conversation with his friends.

Your legs are over his lap, and his hand has been smoothing over your skin and playing with the ends of your dress. And because of that, his attention is faulty. He is nowhere near sober either. Whenever your friends got distracted, the two of you shared kisses, and that led to a lot more. Which doesn’t surprise you.

You don’t blame yourself for what happened. Rafe had been laying distracting kisses over your shoulder and neck, and they were always so soft and slow. It got your attention. And it only took one more of your kisses for Rafe to pull himself up from the couch and take you with him.

You giggled your way through the empty hallways while the music continued to bounce off the walls. You found it funny to jump around, but also to have Rafe practically dragging you through the house, all while you can just hug his neck and rest your face on his chest.

One thing led to another, and you were in a bathroom on the other side of the house. The music was distant, but you could still feel its vibration on the door behind you. Your lips haven’t exactly disconnected from Rafe’s since you came in, and due to the presence of the music, your drunk mind found it more than okay for you to relax and not be as silent as always. Rafe was more than okay with that decision throughout the whole thing.

Rafe picked you up and trapped you between the door and him with your legs by his hips. His hands were lost underneath your dress, while yours eventually began to pull his shirt upwards so he could take it off. Once it hits the ground, the two of you were back to kissing like nothing had ever separated you.

You lose track of what Rafe does with all the stimulation of his hands on you and your foggy mind, and he holds you tighter to him when you moan against his lips, and he lets out a grunt against yours. You separate from the kiss as, for you, the pleasure has magically begun to burn at the bottom of your stomach.

Rafe watches you lean your head on the door as try to adjust to the position and to him, who has just slid inside you. And in seconds you were back to it. Rafe chuckles when you kiss him and lays his hand on the cold wood beside you. His other hand grips your thigh, holding you in place, and your hand grips his forearm.

Your moans start with his movements, feeling more sensitive than ever before, and that only seems to motivate Rafe. He separates his lips from yours and begins a trail of kisses down your neck. You hold onto his shoulders tightly and seem to lose complete control of what you say or do. One of your hands holds onto the back of his head, pulling at the strands of his hair.

The sudden pull makes Rafe’s hand drag soundly through the door to detach you from the door and hold you in his arms. Your eyes are closed when he moves, and you hiss at the cold of the counter. The discomfort only lasts seconds since pleasure completely substitutes it.

As Rafe thrust into you, some of the things that were once neatly on top of the counter fall on themselves or onto the ground. You leaned back on the stone counter, finding the cold on your burning skin awfully satisfying. Rafe’s eyes left your face, eyeing down at the two of you, where you connect, letting the fact of what the two of you are doing at a party rest on his mind. Your underwear had been pushed to the side, and he hadn’t even pulled his shorts completely down. Your dress was simply held up by your waist, and your skin has begun to glisten as he keeps on going. Sliding his cock in and out of you as you moan at every movement.

Your sounds aren’t too loud, but Rafe knows that people could hear it if they ever walked close enough to the door. He isn’t even sure if he locked it when he came in with you. Your eyes stay on him half closed as you bite in your lips to be quieter, and Rafe brings his hand down to your clit, leaving you in a complete puddle, and lose all control of the noise you make.

Rafe knows he says things to you throughout the whole thing, but he isn’t sure what exactly. And the same goes for you. Whatever it was, both of you responded to it, to each other. Even when you aren’t quite sure how because you cannot even bring yourself to think.

When it ends, Rafe does pull you closer and puts his hand over your mouth, muffling your moans. And as you two are left with ringing ears, heavy breathing, and with eyes half-closed, you can only kiss again and again. Completely drunk out of each other.

Your hands are lost in the strands of his hair, and Rafe’s holding you closer and closer to him. It takes you a good few minutes to walk out of the bathroom like nothing had happened, and, once you do it, you notice how no one noticed you were even gone.

(...)

Time went by and the alcohol eventually deemed its effects on you, which could only mean that it was time to go home. You weren’t alone on this. Patricia had very much fallen asleep on the couch in an awkward position, and you knew that taking her home would be better. Yet, for the minutes that you watched her asleep, you silently wished that were you.

It took you yawning mid-sentence in a conversation with Rafe about 5 times before he decided that the two of you were done for the night. Topper did the waking up of Patricia and helped her with grabbing her things while some of the guys helped with other things.

You leaned on Rafe as if he was a wall as they did it. Patricia, half-asleep and drunk, eventually got to you and began to tell you with slurred words how tired she felt, which made you agree with her with a nod.

“Are- are you going home?” Patricia asks you before hiccuping, “Like, really home? Or Rafe’s?”

Before you can answer, she continues with a gasp. “You could spend the night in mine.”

“I’m going home.” You tell her, blinking slowly.

She sassily side glances at you and then at Rafe as well, who isn’t even paying attention to her, but to Topper, who is drunkenly looking for one of his friend’s shoes under the couch.

Patricia, forgetting her hate towards you, grabs your hands and holds them as she swings your arms to the beat of the loud music. You smile at her and swing them with hers. Patty dances a little, as many moves as her tired and drunk body could pull off.

The two of you giggle after a few of her dance moves, and then you stop abruptly. A girl has just collided her shoulder with yours, hard, and it catches you off guard more than anything.

Due to that, Patricia loses her smile and faces the person right away. As you go to look at them and say the usual ‘it’s okay’, you see a girl. But a girl you’re sure you know from somewhere, which only makes you pause and reflect on who it could be.

“I’m sorry.” She tells you with a big drunken smile.

“You better be,” Patricia says before you can say anything back. You send her a glare as a warning.

“It’s okay.” You tell the girl, looking away to look at Patty again.

The girl doesn’t seem to walk away right away, and you feel Rafe lay his hand on your, still a little sore, shoulder. He smooths the skin, and right when you go to hold Patricia’s hand again, Rafe’s chest vibrates as he speaks.

“Got a problem?”

You eye him confused, but he isn’t talking to you. You look in the opposite direction, and your hands stop playing with Patricia’s, much to her confusion. Aiden stands beside you, eyeing you both, and then Rafe. And it suddenly clicks, that same girl had been Aiden’s friend when the two of you dated, and seemingly still is.

He eyes Rafe weirdly and then looks back at you.

“No problem, bro. Just wanted to say hi to an old friend,” He says while looking you in the eyes. “Hope you still remember me.”

You open your mouth to answer, but it is not needed. Aiden stretches his hand toward Rafe to introduce himself, “I’m Aiden.”

It doesn’t take long for Rafe to remember the day you said that same name, and because of it, Aiden’s hand stays untouched. Rafe continues to look down at him and bites his own tongue.

Aiden lets his hand awkwardly fall and offers Rafe a fake grin, which only grants him one back.

“Doesn’t look like she remembers you.” Rafe says, reinforcing his fake grin, “Keep it moving.”

“Oh, come on.” Aiden looks back at you. “You remember me, right, Y/N?”

Patricia lets go of your hands and holds your wrist instead. You don’t really understand her actions, and continue to only stare at Aiden in shock. You have absolutely no words to say to him.

“No?” Aiden asks you while spontaneously leaning closer to you so you could hear him better over the music, which only made you take that space back by leaning closer to Rafe.

Aiden looks at the two of you and doesn’t appear to get the hint.

“Are you two dating?” He asks, a smile appearing on his face as if he found his own words humorous.

“Yes.” You break your silence.

“That is so interesting.” He says to you, “I would never see someone like you with someone like him…” His eyes lift to Rafe, “No offense to you, bro. You just, you know, are very different from her type.”

His eyes do not leave you after he says that. His words make the air thicker. He fortifies the idea that he knows you and that he has known you for a while. He has a past with you.

“You must remember me. We used to have so much fun together.” You shake your head right away.

“Just leave, Aiden.” You tell him, growing tired of his pushing.

“Why?” He chuckles, “Because your big boyfriend is going to hit me?”

That confuses you and only leads you to notice how Rafe has, indeed, gone silent and instantly tense. You don’t look at Rafe to not give Aiden any satisfaction, and simply repeat your words.

“I’m serious.” You tell him. “Leave.”

He stays quiet and then takes a step back. Your lungs fill with air as a sign of relief, even when you know it won’t last for too long. Aiden stands before you still, and his eyes move all over your face, examining you. And then his eyes go down, down and down, and suddenly up. Disgust is the first thing that hits you, but you don’t let it show.

“Hopefully she won’t get as tired of you as she got of me,” He looks at Rafe. “You know how they are. Girls like her…” And then back at you. “Always looking for other guys to satisfy them, no matter who they hurt in the process. When the reality is that they will never be satisfied... Not whores like her.”

As he says it, Patricia moves quicker than you. She pulls at your wrist and away from Rafe, who simply moves forward, grabs Aiden, and slams his fist onto his face.

The music around you muffles, and everything slows down. Aiden loses balance after the impact and struggles to strike Rafe back. Some people get out of their way, and both of them move farther for you and Patricia, but continue to be entirely visible to your widened and panicked eyes.

It seems as quick as a blink when Aiden hits the ground with an awfully loud thud. From the distance, you can tell he already has a bloodied nose, twisted in an off-angle, as well as reddened teeth and knuckles. Making it awfully obvious that he has already hit Rafe too. Patricia pulls at your arm, making you look at her for a second, but even her eyes are glued to the fight.

More seconds go by, and people are stupidly starting to circle the men. Whenever you’re able to get another glance between everyone, the damage is worse.

Aiden's face twisted in pain, blood dripping off his mouth, punch after punch as he continues to struggle on the floor. Blow after blow, he slowly weakens. It is gruesome, to say the very least, and not something you're used to ever see.

With your feet still glued as ice to the ground and with your body stuck on the spot, you watch as Aiden does try to open his mouth to say something, and his hand lifts to stop Rafe with a plea. His hand doesn't ever lift to hit, just to hold him back. The same exact gesture you had done when playing around with your boyfriend merely hours ago.

Your heart drops to your stomach at the sight, as his pleas go unanswered. Rafe's fist collides with Aiden's face yet again and Aiden's pleas falter.

Patricia forces herself and you to move out of the house, and you cannot hear anything but your quickening heart. Your vision is faulty, making you feel as if you were blinking and holding your eyes closed for more than time then opened.

You look behind your shoulder before taking the last step down the porch only to see Aiden spread out on the floor, unmoving as Rafe begins to stand before him and letting out a breath, with his back towards you.

“Get in the car.” Patricia practically screams at you, snapping you back to reality and making you face the front.

You get in, and she closes the car door. At the lack of sound, the gruesome images suddenly consume your mind, inducing nausea and more of your shaking and uneven breaths. You cover your face with your hands as Patricia climbs into her seat beside yours and does not mutter a word.

Aiden's face, cut and broken. His silent screams inaudible over the music, and his pleas being cut short for another and another hit.

You knew it wasn’t a lie, that Rafe fought all the time. You had seen him just before a fight. But tonight had made it real. Too real. He fights until the other person can no longer handle it, until the other person cannot say any words that could make him stop. He doesn't stop until he sees enough blood to satisfy him. He doesn't stop until the person goes unresponsive.

No one had dared to push Rafe off of Aiden, not one of his friends. Even when Patty seemed moved, she didn't look at anything like it had been news to her. Rafe always does this. You know he does.

More than a month ago, you had cleaned his hands. Those that dripped with blood, and he hadn't wanted you to see them. You had giggled, found it arousing even. Such a filthy thing it had seemed. Never had it crossed your mind how real it all was. How he hurts someone so badly simply because they dare to cross him. He didn't hold back. He doesn't hold back.

You had never seen him like this, nor do you ever wish to again.

When your hearing clears slightly, you open your eyes and pull your hands away from your face. As you stare at them in the silent and dark car, you watch as they shake violently and listen to your heart not being able to slow down. You do not dare to look up, afraid of who you might see coming out of the house.

As you let out a shaky breath, you feel only one thing ripping through you. Fear.

Didn't I say shit would hit the fan? I HOPE YOU LIKED THIS CHAPTER. I know this isn't my best work, but I tried my best. Love y'all <3

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actuallysaiyan · 6 months

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Kinktober Day 31: Face Sitting(I'm so bad...)

warnings/kinks: smut, face sitting, oral sex(fem receiving), Vegeta is soft word count: 0.5k pairings: Vegeta x Fem!Reader teaser: “Don’t worry about anything else, just focus on the pleasure.” taglist: @beneathstarryskies @loki-love @witchofcustom @dreadsuitsamus @pyrofanatic a/n: Here we are, another Kinktober gone by! Hope you all enjoyed it!

Vegeta thinks it’s ridiculous that you find yourself so ugly. In his eyes, you might be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You are glowing, beautiful and just so precious. You remind him of simpler times and why he’s allowed to live on this earth without being sentenced to death.

When you first showed up in his life, he scoffed and brushed you off. He often gave you the cold-shoulder. But now, he was so in love with you. He wants to be able to show you just how much he loves and adores you. He even worships you at this point, which is saying something because Vegeta wants people to worship him, not the other way around.

When he mentions you sitting on his face, you blush and shake your head. You mumble something about yourself being too fat or too heavy. He laughs softly at that, which only makes you feel even more self-conscious about it. You turn away from him, looking down at your feet. He panics, thinking he’s done the worst.

But when he grabs your hand and makes you face him, you see the love he has for you in his eyes. So you begin to wonder if maybe sitting on his face to receive such pleasure would be a bad thing.

It all happens so fast, he’s got you on the bed, then he’s helping you hover over his face. Your clothes are stripped away from your body in haste as he spreads your pretty thighs. He needs to taste you.

“Don’t worry about anything else, just focus on the pleasure.”

You never knew him to have such tact for these types of things, but him coaxing you and helping you get over your insecurities helps you so much. You feel his warm breath on your pussy as he begins to help you lower yourself down onto his awaiting mouth. You whine when you feel his warm and adept tongue fluttering around your folds before he swirls it around your clit.

“That’s it,” he says in a muffled voice. “Let yourself enjoy this.”

His gloved hands feel so good on your thighs as he parts them. You let out a soft moan as his tongue plunges into your tight hole, trying desperately to get all the sweet nectar he can. Vegeta feels so hungry for you, and having you in this position really makes it easy for him to demonstrate his love for you but also his strength. To him this is perfection.

It takes little time for you to completely be lost in this pleasure. With his tongue expertly working your cunt, you begin to grind against the Saiyan prince’s face. He smirks as you begin to move against him, knowing he’s helping you let go of some of these insecurities.

It’s not long before you’re tugging at his hair, moaning desperately for release. Vegeta continues to lap at you, working your most sensitive spots. A few more swipes of his soft tongue and you’re brought to such an earth-shattering orgasm. Vegeta grunts as your juices begin to fill his mouth. Once you’re coming down from your high, you try to dismount him but he’s got you pulled down to his face once more.

“Did I say I was done with you, woman?”

#bacon.writes #vegeta x you #vegeta x reader #vegeta x y/n #vegeta smut #vegeta x fem!reader #dragon ball #dragon ball z #dragon ball x reader #dragon ball smut #kinktober 2023

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boyfhee · 1 year

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⌕ TAKE TWO ━━ 13 : unauthorized investigation

PRECIS. while riki constantly assured you that him being an idol under a different label wouldn't be an issue in your relationship, you start getting second thoughts when fans start shipping him with his co-mc at music bank.

w. angst, miya ( bbg deserves her own warning )

wc. 1.23k

“i didn’t expect you to actually come,” miya chuckles, a menacing grin dancing on her lips with unclear intentions masking her eyes. there’s not much you can decipher about her, except that she’s here for nothing more than your boyfriend. “do you not trust your boyfriend? do you think he’s actually hiding something from you?”

you watch her skim through the menu as if this is supposed to be some friends’ day out, her characteristic smile never leaving her face even for a second. perhaps, it’s the smile that has people wrapped around her, or maybe more. you’re here to fight for what belongs to you in the first place, but one look at miya, and you’re thinking of all the reasons you could lose from her. you aren’t the type to think of the worst possible scenarios before trying, but something about her has you counting your other options.

what if she actually succeeds in whatever she’s planning?

what if riki loves her and not you?

what if. . . and what ifs are all that have been plaguing your mind ever since you received her text. her presence isn’t one to stand out but her words weigh down your shoulders. the truth about riki, you might never know. maybe, it’s part of a bigger plan, maybe she’s simply messing with you. you don’t know, you would never. miya, in herself, is sort of a mystery, and you hate how she makes you question everything you’ve been confident about.

“no, i’m just here to see how pathetic you can get,” but you have a dignity to maintain, a look to deliver that you aren’t half bothered by her silly tricks, even if it’s a white lie.

“you’ve really painted me as the villain in your eyes, haven’t you?” you wonder if she’s trying to incite you, to make you lose your cool. her words are of less importance, almost none, for she’s asking questions she already knows the answers too. she tried to break up your relationship with riki, took every opportunity to ruin things between the two of you and create doubts. so yes, if you consider these things, a villain is not even close to how you see her.

“i don’t want someone who doesn’t want me, but if there’s even a little chance that he does, i’m not backing off,” it’s an apology and a challenge in the same sentence. as if, she’s sorry that you’re about to lose your relationship, but riki is worth fighting and so, she’s not going to apologise for being the reason why your relationship is falling apart. “besides, i can’t control who i fall for, now, can i?”

“of course,” you reach the conclusion that she’s trying to buy time, to annoy you enough that it leaves you with few options, one of them being giving up. it’s smart, you would say, because throwing around the blame and playing the victim card, if done correctly, tends to turn situations in your favour. her eyes still travel back and forth between you and the menu— it doesn’t seem like she’s planning on ordering anything. and in the end, there’s no truth, all lies, and one benefit of doubt.

“yn, i’m not an enemy,” her voice goes soft, eyes looking at you as if you’re supposed to be on her team. “i’m your friend. i’m just another person in love, just like you. i’m really hoping you’d understand,” and there’s a certain tone in her voice; pride, pity— desire.

it’s a shame how you failed to recognise it at once.

“understand what, that it’s okay to ruin someone’s relationship? or that, everything is fair as long as you get what you want, even if it means ruining someone’s career?” there are a thousand reasons why riki could choose her over you, and a million reasons why he wouldn’t. one could be so blindly in love to even forget what’s good and bad, or right and wrong, but god, not riki, not him. you’ve known him for over ten years, dated for three, and there’s only one thing about him that you’re sure of— music. you would find yourself wondering how life would’ve been if you had never chosen this field, but not him. riki has one dream, to make music, and his second, you, or so you believe.

“now, when did i do that?” and miya goes again, pretending to be the innocent one in his unauthorised interrogation. you know she’s in the wrong, but the look in her eyes and the confidence dancing on the tips of her fingers push you towards fear. she isn’t half as astute as you, but she came prepared. as if she had played this conversation in her head weeks ago before fixing her target and sharpening her moves.

“oh, i know you paid the media to post pictures of you and riki to provoke us. even his instagram, it was impossible to track it and find the pictures since it’s a private account that has been inactive for years,” you say as a matter of fact, “you think you’re the smart one here but it really doesn’t take a scientist to catch up to your cheap moves,”

at first, you thought of it as a coincidence— the media finding riki’s account, an article about dating while referring to a picture taken months ago— but the more you think about it, the less it comes off as just a coincidence. in fact, things fell into place better when you imagined miya behind every single thing that has happened lately. it would make more sense to claim that she tipped off journalists to post articles about her and riki everytime the rumours seemed to disappear, just to make sure the fans stayed interested in whatever hypothesis she was trying to prove. she planned it out, has been doing so for months probably, and you would give her the credit of being incredibly clever and impossibly crazy; the more intelligent, the less sane.

“oh, okay, i did that,” she shrugs nonchalantly, as if her actions don’t concern her anymore. the lack of remorse and the abundance of everything else on her face is making your palms sweat, afraid that the next moment, your boyfriend would be slipping through the cracks of your hands and you wouldn’t be able to hold him. “but yn, do you really think i’m the only one who wants this?”

“what do you mean?” there’s a stern look in her eyes. her words are firm, she sounds a little too certain for your comfort. maybe, she’s just a really good liar, maybe you’re reading too much into her actions. maybe, it’s something you’ve created inside your head and it will go away when you wake up. just maybe, those are the words you decide to hold onto.

“you’ve been doubting me since day one, convinced that i’m trying to steal your boyfriend, but what if it’s the other way round?” she leans on the table, you’re hoping her words won’t gesture towards what you’ve been fearing the most. “what if riki made the first move?” and miya knows it’s a blatant lie, but no amount of apologies from riki could bury her words deep enough to never unravel.

after all, she just had to sow the seeds of doubt and let them do their job.

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ddarker-dreams · 3 months

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Lock, what DO you love and like so much about Dostoevsky's work? I don't think you've ever talked about that. Please, I want to know !!!

^o^

(christianity mention jump scare below proceed with caution)

i thought this would be an easy to answer but figuring out how to put my feelings into words proved difficult .

the beginning is always a good place to start, so let's go with that. by chance, i happened upon this video on youtube and gave it a watch. about halfway in i decided i had to read notes from underground for myself. i struggled to understand what the narrator was trying to get across. the unique writing style, where the reader is addressed directly, as if in challenge, helped me preserve.

i think part of what makes his work special to me is his depiction of people. and they really do feel like people more than characters, even if some of their characteristics are unique to the era dostoevsky wrote in. everything else about them transcends time. i can see myself in some of them. whether it be the titular idiot, prince myshkin in his naivety; alyosha, who goes from devout to doubting; and ivan, whose bitterness toward religion masks his disappointment at the state of the world.

that's why the brothers karamazov touched me in particular. for some context, i grew up in a christian household and was heavily involved in the church (american northeast white baptist strand of church). around when i was 11 or so, the introduction of left-wing politics through social media had me undergo a looooong identity crisis. these new ideas felt at odds with what i'd spent my entire life believing. what i grappled with the most relates to ivan's anecdote, the grand inquisitor, where the goodness of god is called into question. the bitterness, the disappointment from crushed expectations, all those sensations resonated strongly with me. reading it as an adult who (supposedly) 'healed' from that time period in my life was like opening pandora's box. i'd never seen my thoughts and struggles so accurately described, or treated with more than a 'his ways are higher than our ways' type platitude. i stuffed these concerns of mine away because they only ever served to make me feel worse.

i won't delve deep into the Depressing Lore. the only reason i mention it is to stress how profound an impact the work had on me. throughout the remainder of TBK (and in most of dostoevsky's discography), the best and worst of humanity is shown. our hypocritical nature, capacity for evil; nothing is shied away from or made more palatable. and yet, throughout it all, our potential for good is shown too. whether it be in the little acts or monumental self-sacrifice. sometimes those acts are honored, or ‘worth it,’ sometimes they aren’t. it’s cheesy but whatever i’ll say it — choosing to love and serve others is my greatest joy. i don’t really need a definitive answer to those problems i struggled with. that’s the takeaway i’ve had from his work. it might not seem like a big deal, but not feeling guilty for having certain doubts or anxious over those doubts never fully being resolved was. very significant for me. and healing (for real this time).

so that’s the sentimental perspective GJSDLKFJS from my writer’s perspective, i can only describe him as brilliant. his grasp on the human psyche is incredible. he can accurately describe so many emotions, worldviews, and give the context necessary for each one to feel organic and real. it’s vivid, too, in a way i can’t properly get across. everyone’s unfiltered and messy. characters contradict themselves in the same sentence. they’ll murmur, go off on tangents, tell stories, misquote the bible (or many other significant works), and just be overall disasters. aka how people actually are.

the man’s also funny as hell. the protagonist from crime and punishment has a mental breakdown spanning multiple pages over a sock. yes, there’s context, but that’s still the gist of things. then there’s the issue of the hedgehog in the idiot. hedgehog drama.

ultimately, his work is so very human. there’s commentary on issues that are prevalent to this day, multiple centuries later. the topics he touches on tend to align with what i care about most. whether i agree or disagree with what i’m reading, there’s always something i glean from it. something meaningful that sits with me long after i close the book. i’ll mull over it and bother people in my vicinity until they mull over it too. no one is safe. whether it be a co-worker or my dad who drives noticeably faster to reach our destination and be free of my many questions.

i could keep going but this ended up being long enough GJSKDF i hope at least something here makes sense?>?? i apologize for the incoherent ramblings. it's what the dude does to me.

#dostoevsky fanclub #answered #Anonymous

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storiesofsvu · 1 year

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A Dangerous Game Ch 13

Emily Prentiss x readear Warnings: language, alcohol, smut, daddy!prentiss, very light talk of canon type of violence/situations. I'm really not sure if i like this chapter, part of why it took so long was because i was just not feelin the smut, so that's why the smut is limited. sorrryyyy. next ch will be better! promise!

“Hello?” Emily’s voice rang through your car speaker and you almost instantly relaxed.

“Hey.” You couldn’t help but smile, “I happen to be in your neck of the woods and was thinking about picking up dessert if you’re interested?”

“Sounds like your date went really well.” She half teased, a smile taking over her cheeks as she glanced to her watch, not doubting that you’d left dinner early.

“Ugh, update you later. Are you home? I’ll swing by.”

“Uh…” She suddenly rocked back to reality, glancing back to the pile of dirt on her floor, “you know, Serg is being a real asshole tonight, he just peed all over the bed, can we do your place?”

“Yeah, course. Give me like, half hour? I’ll pick up some wine too.”

“Sounds great.”

“K, I’ll see ya in a bit.”

“Bye.”

The line clicked as you hung up the phone and Emily let out a puff of breath, chewing her lip into her mouth as she tried to figure out what she wanted to do about the bug. If she destroyed it, whoever planted it would know that she’d found it, right now she had the high ground, she’d just have to filter herself to a point while in her apartment, she could handle that. She grabbed a coffee mug she rarely used, scooping up most of the dirt and the bug, placing it back on the shelf it had previously been on before cleaning up the broken ceramic.

Figuring she’d likely spend the rest of the weekend at your place she headed to the bedroom to pack up whatever she might need, Sergio let out a very annoyed meow over being trapped in the room and she rolled her eyes when he darted past her. She made sure that he had more than enough food and water, gave him a little scratch behind the ear, warning him to be good while she was gone and headed out the door.

She couldn’t help but be distracted on the drive over, her mind attempting to replay everything since the party at Rossi’s. For the briefest moment her mind jumped to worst case scenario that this had all been a set up from the start and that you knew exactly who she was the night you’d met at the bar but she managed to squash that down with the reminder that whatever was on the bug would incriminate you as well. Not to mention it wouldn’t make any sense for you to have bugged her apartment, you were basically the only one that was ever there. Penelope had been over for coffee and Sergio snuggles one weekend, but aside from that it was just you, which, very unfortunately, meant there was a whole lot of sex that someone was listening in on. She shuddered at the thought, thankful at least that the bug had been in the living room and not the bedroom.

Letting out a breath, she pulled onto the freeway and her mind drifted from who planted it to what she should do about it. She recognized the style, it was a relatively popular type of bug but one that was readily available both online and in stores, it would be useless to try and track the person down that way. She considered looping in Penelope but that would mean moving it… and that Penelope would very likely be privy to what was recorded and she certainly wasn’t ready for that. No, that wasn’t the route to go, she had to figure out a list of suspects who had the motive and means to want to track her and go from there, questioning and eliminating until she found the guy. Stopped at a red light she let out a groan, running her hand over her face, despite most of the BAU’s unsubs either getting killed on crime scenes or being sentenced to life in prison, there were the few who got shorter sentences. She was going to have to go through every case and double cross with any recent releases.

This was going to be one hell of a fucking headache.

When you pulled open the front door Emily absolutely lost every coherent thought in her brain.

“Holy shit you look fucking hot.” Her eyes widened and you couldn’t help but laugh, your cheeks heating with the way her gaze dragged up your body. You hadn’t changed yet, still in a deep blue fitted wrap dress that showed off just enough leg and a respectable amount of cleavage. Your hair was styled in loose curls, more makeup and jewelry than you’d normally wear to work to finish it all off.

“Thank you.” You chuckled, letting her in and swinging the door shut behind her.

“This is date night you? Because fuck take out, I’m actually going to take you out next week Jesus Christ.”

“Em…” You laughed again, warmth blooming through your whole body.

“I mean it. Wow.”

“You gonna come in or are you just gonna stare?” You asked with a laugh, swatting at her arm before turning up the stairs, more than well aware that she was definitely staring at your ass as she followed you onto the main floor.

There was a candle burning on your coffee table next to a pile of paperwork, aromas of lilac wafting through the space, a fuzzy blanket strewn across the couch, a book open but upturned on top of it. Her eyes swept through the space and she smiled, god did she ever love just how comfortable your place was. It always had this overwhelming sense of calm and welcoming, somewhere she couldn’t help but relax and feel at peace. When she turned back to the kitchen you’d poured her out a glass of wine, sliding it toward her before picking up a pizza pop you’d been hallway through when she knocked on the door.

“I thought you picked up dessert?”

“I did.” You mumbled, swallowing the bite down, “this is dinner.”

“You didn’t even make it to the main course!?” She nearly laughed, “the date was that much of a dud? Jeeze I thought Morgan of all people would have better judgement.”

“I mean… it was fine? There was potential, she was cute but…” you trailed off, wondering if you should just drop the bomb right off the start until you huffed, “bland. She was bland, and she ordered for me.”

“Eck.”

“Terrible taste in wine too.”

“This leftovers?” She asked, pointing to the take out container on the counter and you nodded. Curiosity got the better of her and she popped the container open, “is this a crab cake?”

“Yup.” You grimaced.

“You hate crab, specifically in cake form!”

“Exactly!” You let out a frustrated groan, “and you know that because you— know me.” You rolled your eyes, “and that’s not even the worst of it, she paired it with a cab sauv!”

“Okay what person in their right mind doesn’t at least google wine pairings if they’re trying to impress?” She laughed, “you pair crab with chardonnay!”

“Thank you!” Picking up your wine glass you took a hefty swig, shaking your head at yourself, “I don’t even know why I went, it was stupid. I would’ve much rather just been with you.” Your free hand finally found hers, gently tugging her toward you and her arms instinctually found their home on your waist while yours loosely wrapped around her shoulders.

“Well at the very least it got you in this dress.” Emily smirked and you chuckled, leaning in to kiss her and the moment your lips met it was as if both of you melted into each other’s arms. The kiss was slow, genuine, soft as lips moved with grace. You pulled away only a fraction, happy grins on both your cheeks,

“You really like the dress hey?”

“I do.” She nodded, stealing another kiss.

“Guarantee you’ll like what’s under it better.” You teased and Emily pulled back a bit further, raising a brow.

“If you put on fancy lingerie for another woman I just might have to punish you…”

“Sounds like someone might be a little jealous?” Smirking, you raised a brow and she let out an offended scoff.

“Absolutely not.” She stuttered suddenly under your gaze, “okay, okay. Yeah… I was jealous tonight; I didn’t like the idea of you being out with someone else.”

“Well you’ve got nothing to worry about.” You kissed her softly, then shrugged, “and I forgot to do laundry before California, it’s like fourth tier under the dress.” Emily barked a laugh and you couldn’t help but smile at the way it reached her eyes, the way her nose scrunched up before she stole a smiling kiss from you.

“As long as it means I get you, I’ll take fourth tier any day angel.”

“You spoil me.” Your lips brushed against hers as you spoke and only a second later she was kissing you again. Her hands began to roam your body, cupping your tits through your dress, squeezing softly earning a quiet moan from you before her fingers pinched at your nipples. Your hands sunk lower on her body, squeezing her ass in retaliation, tugging her closer to you. Her teeth sunk into your lower lip, tugging it away from you before letting it release, her eyes dark as she looked down at you.

“I’m gonna remind you exactly why you don’t need to be going on stupid little dates, alright princess?”

“Yes daddy.” You nodded, a wicked grin on your cheeks.

“Good girl.” She pinched at your chin before her lips returned to yours, this time her tongue quickly sliding into your mouth, groaning over the taste that was so sweetly you. Her hands tickled up your thighs, slipping under your dress before they tugged down your panties, urging you to kick them off your legs.

One hand remained under your dress, simply palming at your cunt until you were rocking into her hand in a steady rhythm. She broke the kiss to glance down at you, watching with a happy smile as your eyes fluttered shut, your skin breaking out in goosebumps, fire peaking right under it. Emily kissed across your jaw, teeth scraping the column of your neck, pulling whimpers and moans from you as she did so. Finally her fingers slid through your folds and you shivered, letting out a little whimper right before she captured your lips in a kiss again. Her lips moved in time with her hand, trailing through your wetness, smearing your juices around your pussy before one finger slipped in and you broke the kiss with a gasp.

“Oh god…”

“That’s it angel.”

She cooed, her finger pumping slowly inside you, crooking just enough to hit the spot you wanted it most. A second one slid in alongside it and you moaned, your walls stretching and fluttering around her fingers. Your hand clenched at her shoulder and she picked up the speed, fingers thrusting deeper with each stroke, curling every second pump. As always, she had you exactly where you wanted within minutes, knowing how to read you perfectly, knowing just what you wanted and how. The heel of her hand brushed against your clit and your body shuddered, legs nearly giving out and she chuckled.

“Let’s get you to the couch.” She murmured, nipping at your earlobe as she pulled her fingers from you and you whined.

In the three feet between the kitchen island and the couch she skillfully managed to rid you of your dress and bra, letting you collapse onto the couch completely bare while your hands tugged at her clothes until she was down to her panties. Her fingers were still slick with your juices, hand coming to tilt your head up toward her while she stood beside the couch,

“Get daddy’s fingers nice and wet.”

In a flash your lips had wrapped around them, sucking them clean from your juices, tongue swirling around her digits while she pumped them in and out of your mouth. Continuing to suck on them your tongue eagerly lapped against her skin and when she pulled them from your mouth they were slick with spit.

“That’s my good girl.” She praised, hand returning to between your legs and easily sliding into your pussy. You fell back onto the couch, letting out a breathy sigh as Emily settled between your legs, fingers fucking into you once again.

“Oh god.. Oh fuck!” You whined, hands scrambling for her body, aching to feel her on you. To not tease you too much, she leant forward, holding herself up over your body while continuing to finger you. Her lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking it into her mouth and you moaned, hips rocking up to her fingers while your hand tangled into her hair. She bit down before her tongue soothed other the same spot while her fingers picked up the speed.

Your skin burned, pleasure shooting through you, tingling down to your toes as your body trembled underneath hers. Emily smirked against your tit, feeling the way your pussy was fluttering around her fingers, shivering each time she brushed against your g-spot. Her mouth latched onto the other side of your chest, her free hand pinching at the side she’d left, nipple hardening in the cool air of the room.

“Fuck… fuck!” You cried out, “gonna come…”

“That’s the point angel.” She teased before her teeth sunk into the curve of your breast in an attempt to leave you with a mark, one that would let anyone else know that you were taken, that you were hers.

Your back arched off the couch, a cry of pleasure leaving your lips as her fingers pressed into your g-spot harder and longer than before, hips shuddering up towards her before stilling, your peak rocking through you. Emily smiled softly against your skin, her fingers slowing, gently fucking your through your orgasm while continuing to suck at your chest.

“Christ…” you swore quietly, your chest heaving as you attempted to catch your breath and Emily chuckled, sitting up to steal a kiss.

“I’m far from done princess.” With a wicked grin she sunk to her knees between your legs, leaving little kisses and bites on your inner thighs while they trembled under her touch.

True to her word, she brought you to your peak another two times, once with just her mouth and once using both her mouth and her fingers, eagerly lapping up your juices as they dripped down your thighs.

You’d completely forgot about your date by the time she was done, wrapping you in her arms so you could finally relax and catch your breath, tossing the blanket over both of you. She was on her back, resting against the arm on the couch, hand gently stroking at your head that was placed on her chest while the two of you got lost in what had been playing on the television. You yawned quietly, almost nuzzling deeper into her chest and she chuckled softly.

“Are you gonna stay?” You asked and she nodded.

“Wasn’t planning on going anywhere. Gave Serg enough food for a couple of days.”

“What about your sheets?”

“What?” Her brow furrowed and she glanced down at you, though you were still just watching tv.

“If you leave cat pee all weekend you’re never going to get the smell out.”

“Oh!” She felt her heart jump into her throat as reality came crashing down around her, remembering why she had ended up at your place in the first place and her lie she’d used to cover it up, “I left them soaking, they’ll be fine.”

“Mmkay.” You replied, sitting up, “should we get upstairs?” You asked and she raised an eyebrow, sitting up as well. “I do believe I was promised a cock too?”

She chuckled, her brain shifting once again as she leant in to kiss you, just fiery enough to leave both of you aching for more. “You were practically begging to stop an hour ago.”

“You said I looked cute when I begged.”

“You do.”

“If I have to beg for daddy’s cock I will.”

“Oh princess.” Her hand stroked down the side of your cheek, pinching at your chin, “you’ve been good, there’s no need to beg.”

With a small laugh, you kissed her again before slipping off the couch and wrapping your dress back around you. If you were going upstairs you at least had to toss the leftovers and the untouched dessert into the fridge. Emily followed suit, tossing her shirt back on so she wasn’t completely topless, folding the blanket over the back of the couch and blowing out the candle on the coffee table. Her eyes glanced over the case file next to it and she frowned.

“You’re not obsessing over Dewald, are you?”

“Hmm?” You asked, turning back to her as you crossed the room and she gestured to the file, “Oh, no.” You laughed, “bout an hour before you got here sheriff from Beaufort called. They’d found a car abandoned just across the South Carolina border with no tags or plates a couple of months ago, no one thought anything about it til they saw the Federal bolo and realized it was the same make and model. He only scratched off half the bin number so now we know he made it out of Florida.”

“Mmm.” She replied, turning back to the case file she was nearly tempted to flip through it, see what other details you might have noted that she’d forgotten about. An uncaught unsub from recently definitely would be high up on the list, at least this was one you were monitoring, “hey… thanks for keeping up on this case, I know you’ve already got enough on your plate.”

“Meh.” You shrugged, your hand smoothing a piece of her hair back behind her ear, “feels weird to let it go, ya know? Being the original agent on the case and then having a run in with him twice with the BAU? It’s like the universe wants me to be the one to take him down.”

“Yeah…” She sighed softly, glancing up to you with a smile when you squeezed at her shoulder, prompting her off the couch. Her hand tangled with yours as you guided her to the stairs, you were one step up when she stalled, “aren’t you gonna set the alarm?”

“What alarm?” You turned back to her with a laugh.

“You’re seriously an FBI agent who doesn’t have a security system?”

“Yeah….”

“Seriously!?”

“I live in Alexandria… and I have a gun.” You laughed once again, “places I’ve lived without a gun… Clearwater. The door’s double locked, pinky swear. C’mon.”

“You should at least get a doorbell cam.”

“Calm down Prentiss.” You shook your head, “I only bought the place nine months ago, I’m still considering if it’s the right fit or not. I’ve got good neighbours and we’re in a nice area. C’mon.” Your head tilted, eyes glittering, “I was told I wasn’t going to have to beg….”

Emily let out a mock offended scoff, her brow raising in your direction as a wicked grin took over her lips, you certainly knew how to rollercoaster her train of thought and she definitely wasn’t complaining. Only a second later you were letting out a shriek as she was on you, chasing you up the stairs to give you exactly what you wanted.

___________________

@ssa-sapphic @mickey-gomez @clarawatson @cabotfan42 @momlifebehard @melindawarnersgf @itisdoctortoyousir @emilyprentiss4life @somethingimaginative17 @temilyrights @alexxavicry @anya-casablanca @daddy-heather-dunbar @evilregal2002 @aliensaurusrex @rustyzebra @ilovemycrayons @mandy-asimp @thegrantwater @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @m00nkn1ghts @augustvandyne @supercriminalbean @daffodil-heart @msvenablesbitch @its-soph-xx @going-gray @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @hopelesslyfallenninlove @peanutbutterprincess @kdaghay @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @awolfcsworld @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @s1ut4nat @midnight-sapphic @scorpsik @thisisraes @prentiss-theorem @unsubologyy @strongsassysexysloane @svushots @lavenderhoney94 @overtrred28

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #a dangerous game

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comfortless · 1 month

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"held back by a leash that no one’s ever thought to untie, constantly growling and leaping at anything that gets too close just to simmer down to whimpering and begging the second he’s pet just once" ??? 😩 This is so real and relatable (I'm crying in the corner of my room). Lord have mercy, I need to kiss every ridge and groove on your brain.

The way I giggled when you mentioned his fleshlight is crazy. I was actually thinking of saying something similar but then I decided against cause the message would've been too long. I was trying to decide if he would be the type of man to get one of those insanely realistic sex dolls. Maybe he felt particularly desperate to have something in his bed (something that can't just get their clothes and leave before he wakes up) or he would just be curious. If he actually got it, by being impulsive, now he has this thing in his house and kind of regrets it. Yeah, it's soft and doesn't look bad, but it definitely doesn't look like a real woman either. It gives him the uncanny valley effect and puts it out of sight for now. How would he even get rid of something like that? Is it recyclable?

I've got brainrot when it comes to this man, I know. I might start reading Letters to Milena by Kafka so I can yearn more accurately for a man that doesn't even exist. This time I have no nice poems to quote but I feel like Konig is very much Sleep token coded. Idk what type of music you like but their lyrics are yummy.

P. S. Your fics are like vitamin D + Omega 3 getting me through this shitty British weather with my sanity more or less intact. Lots of consensual kisses!

oh my gosh and you are more brazen than me because i thought the same, just… kept that to myself!

if he has the money why would he settle on some little silicone tube when he could at least have something to cuddle up with, too? it isn’t like he has visitors often (or at all), though there are some nights when he definitely feels pathetic and disgusting for having it: haphazardly shoves the doll in the closet and settles for his hand instead…

also much to ponder in regards to his impulse control…! for the most part, he probably considers himself to be pretty rational; reasons with every decision by thinking well, x happened so then comes y. his dating life is shallow at best and utterly devoid of anything at worst, it’s… reasonable that he would have some sort of outlet, even if he knows that buying the damned thing has basically sentenced him to never having any sort of stable relationship. if some sweet woman actually gave him more than just the time of day, if she actually wanted to be with him but… she sees that mimicry of a woman’s warmth lying in his bed? she’s either laughing at him or immediately making up some excuse to leave. and if that happens, then of course he’s got to find a way to get rid of it. he’s tossing it in a hole in his backyard or burning it. sorry environment. this is König’s world now and the sex doll can no longer be in it..!

he would never pull something comparatively ridiculous in his career, maybe a few mistakes here and there but he plays a character when he’s König. and König is all menace or indifference, never the pitiful thing that gets so wound up over his own purchase he’s got to destroy it at all costs. though in the time that he did have it… the soldiers around him are certainly aware that he had some ‘girlfriend’ he spoke rather highly of at home that always had her legs open for him. he never seemed in higher spirits, though…

Letters to Milena is sooo quotable for him. i will give you this one: “Auch ist es vielleicht nicht eigentlich Liebe wenn ich sage, daß Du mir das Liebste bist; Liebe ist, dass Du mir das Messer bist, mit dem ich in mir wühle.”

i have an entire ridiculous playlist that is just… all over the place with songs that remind me of him, perhaps i will give Sleep Token a chance and throw a few onto it! ^^ i am always looking out for König-coded songs… Never Land by Sisters of Mercy is possibly my favorite to suggest when it comes to him. <3 the full length is my go to but - a fragment encapsulates it almost as well!

burying you in a world of hugs right now, anon! pleeease send your weather my way! it is HOT here! your messages are vitamin C and a lovely cup of earl grey to me! <3 i am glad that you appeared!

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ashintheairlikesnow · 10 months

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You don’t have to write this if you don’t want to, but there’s an idea that has been on my mind lately and I just need to get it out there and share it with someone. Lately I’ve been thinking about a whumpee sitting in the passenger seat of caretaker’s car, being driven home after caretaker picked them up from the bar. Under the influence of alcohol, whumpee starts casually rambling about the fucked up shit that whumper did to them, all of which caretaker was completely unaware of. Whumpee wasn’t normally the type to open up to them. Caretaker is horrified, while whumpee is too drunk to even notice caretaker’s stunned reaction.

CW: References to domestic violence, drug use, derogatory self-talk, Kauri being a Drunk Mess. Takes place early after Kauri starts coming to the safehouse.

"I said, 'Oh my God, look at that face,'" Kauri sings, voice husky and cracking, boneless against the passenger seat. "You look like my next mistake-"

"Annnnnnd we're not listening to this," Jake interrupts, leaning forward to switch from the random dance-pop playlist to his own personal one. Kauri's glimmering smile fades into an overwrought pout in response.

"Boo. You have the worst taste in music."

"I do not. I just don't want to listen to you drunk-sing Taylor Swift, that's all. Not again. Last time you cried."

"Excuse me, Jakob Stanton, that was a private performance and you should be glad I didn't make you pay for the concert of the century." Kauri kicks his dirty Vans up on Jake's clean dash, crossing his legs at the ankles. He drops his right hand down to pull the little lever on the side of his seat, the back falling backwards until he's nearly lying down. "Not my fault I get carried away with emotions."

"Ever tried not doing that?"

"Yeah." Kauri smiles again. Jake pretends not to glance sidelong to watch his eyes move, like he can see the stars right through the roof of Jake's car. There's a hickey on Kauri's neck, bruising in the shape of teeth and tongue. Might be lipstick smudged on an earlobe. Kauri's own mouth seems too red in the dark, yellowed under the occasional streetlight.

It isn't the answer Jake expects. "What?"

"Course I tried. You think I let this pretty face be ruined by all those ugly tears before? It's in my training, you know. No tears unless he wants them, no screams he doesn't demand, nothing left that he didn't pay for. He wants a gorgeous face, not some asshole who feels things and has opinions."

Jake falls quiet. His music seems incongruous now, clashing with Kauri's soft voice. He takes a turn, driving out of downtown where he'd found Kauri giggling outside yet another bar, dancing with a group of people who looked just as wounded as he does.

He isn't as good as Kauri is at knowing, but he thought at least two of them probably had barcodes hidden underneath jewelry and long sleeves, too.

Romantics run away often, it's in Jake's literature. But they struggle once they're out. They don't know how to make a living. They tend to shoplift because no one showed them how to pay, they can't get a job anyway even when they know what to do. They get treated like shit and taken advantage of... and they go back. They're bad at hiding, at blending in. They get caught, or they go back.

"There's a lot in you that nobody made but you." Jake wishes he was better at this. He's still kind of new at it, and Kauri hasn't been coming around that long. He still has some bandages under his shirt, covering the fresh scar on his collarbone.

"Therein, Jakob, lies the problem." Kauri intones the sentence like a professor delivering a lecture. "Mr. Owen hated all those parts, because none of them were in the person I was supposed to be."

Jake tries not to grind his teeth too obviously. Mr. Owen. Fucking asshole.

"I tried not to feel things that I wasn't supposed to. I was great it, too, for a while. Even better at lying once the feelings showed up anyway. But that wasn't enough, because it was a lie and we both knew it. Love is just lying, for us. To ourselves. To the owners. To everyone. We don't really mean it. We don't know how."

Jake licks at his lips. They sit at a stoplight, and he wishes he'd told Nat to get Kauri instead. Or had told Kauri no, figure it out, it's late and Jake doesn't want to be doing this.

But Kauri called, and he came.

It's a bad habit he can't let himself get into, or he'll be who Kauri always calls on nights like this.

He hopes so, anyway.

"We lie." Kauri's voice is a haze, fog rolling in off the bay. Kauri sounds the way someone looks when they're far enough away that every edge has softened. "We manipulate, we steal, we plead and flatter and fuck like rabbits. And there's absolutely nothing underneath."

"Kaur, you know that isn't true-"

"Every time there was," Kauri continues, as if Jake hadn't spoken, "He hurt me, and then he put me back in my box."

The light finally turns green, and Jake presses down on the gas. "Your box?"

"My delivery box. He kept it, set it up against the wall. When I couldn't be empty enough for him, when he remembered it was all just the two of us lying to each other, he would put me back in it. In the dark... all by myself." Kauri blinks rapidly, and Jake sees streetlight gleam, dim and yellow, off the tears escaping the corner of his eye to soak saltwater into his hair, just above his ear. "Can't feel anything. Can't see anything. Can't hear anything. He'd leave me for hours. One time for-... for over a day. Once he even moved it around like he was sending me b-back."

"Holy fuck."

Jake thinks about that.

He thinks about the way Kauri flinches away from small spaces, sleeps outside because the doors don't lock when there aren't any.

"Jesus," He whispers.

Kauri doesn't seem to notice.

"I just got so tired of pretending I didn't feel it when he hit me," Kauri says, holding his hands up, looking at his own palms. The leather bracelet that hides his barcode looks like handcuffs at this angle, in what passes for light at midnight under nothing but tree canopies lining residential streets. "I couldn't keep it up and he couldn't keep remembering I'm not ever going to suddenly become Vincent fucking Shield, even if he killed me. And... and he was gonna kill me sooner or later, right? After the choking started, the..." He touches his collarbone over his shirt. "He was going to, soon. And nobody would care."

Jake swallows, hard. "That's not-"

"I almost didn't even care anymore, either."

There's no way to respond to that.

He just listens.

"I got so tired of being empty. I couldn't lie to him any longer. Couldn't keep lying to me, either. I'm a failure, a broken pet. I wanted to tell the truth. Just the one time, I wanted to tell the truth without being put in the box, Jake. I wanted to say that I could hate him more than I loved him. I wanted to get to hate him at all. But there's... there's a problem with that."

"Is there?"

What the fuck else can he say?

"Yeah." Kauri digs a hand into his pocket. He swallows something before Jake can stop him. Maybe it's just Tylenol to hold off the hangover. Maybe. Probably not. Kauri'd smile swims, uneasy and seeming oddly seasick. "The problem... is that the truth isn't what I want it to be."

"Kauri-"

"I am empty, Jake. I got away from him and there isn't anything in here. They're right. I'm not even a person. Just a face and a cock. Just the cold and the walls and... and the box."

"That's not true-"

"It's okay." Kauri, absurdly, lays a hand on his arm to soothe him. "It's okay. I don't even mean it. I'm just rambling, Jake. None of it means anything. I am so drunk, just ignore me, yeah? Just talking shit, that's all." He suddenly smiles, bright as any star, and jerks his seat back upright. "Hey, can we go to Burger King? I want some fries."

The sudden swerve of mood feels like driving right off a cliff but finding yourself suddenly flying a plane.

"What? It's twelve-thirty in the morning-"

"Drive-thru is open til one. Come on, Jake, please?" Kauri's eyes are absurdly wide, too blue.

Jake groans. "Yeah, fine."

Kauri claps his hands together with glee, half-lunging to grab Jake's mp3 player. "You're my favorite person on earth, Jake. Now, where is the list with the pretty orangey looking background color..."

Kauri keeps his eyes carefully unfocused so he won't read the letters. The guitar starts up for the first song in the list, and Kauri grins. Whatever he swallowed is already starting to work on him, pupils wide, wiping out so much of the gorgeous blue.

This time, Jake doesn't stop him from singing along.

@finder-of-rings @endless-whump @arlin-always-writing @thefancydoughnut @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @burtlederp @whump-tr0pes @autophagay @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @outofangband @eatyourdamnpears @hackles-up @grizzlie70 @mylifeisonthebookshelf @keeper-of-all-the-random-things

#whump #kauri's poor life choices #writing #bbu #box boy universe #box boy #trauma recovery tw #recovering whumpee #runaway whumpee #escaped whumpee #caretaker and whumpee #erase to control #jake the shelter guy #drug use tw #alcohol tw #drunk whumpee

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hisui555 · 10 days

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Hazbin Hotel Thoughts : Alcohol 3 !

Part 1 (Hazbin crew) here

Part 2 (Vees + Overlords) here

Masterpost here

Now lessee how well Heaven can hold up its booze. While Ep 6 implies there's no (or very few) alcohol in Heaven, there's this funny concept called "let's pretend". Again, as seen with Charlie and Vaggie, part-angel or fully angelic people aren't immune to alcohol, so, let's go !

First of all, Emily, and I think that the complete irony is that she can hold it even better than Charlie. Ten glasses and she'll still be standing, excitedly asking for more - might even find the experience a brand new one and enjoyable, blissfully unaware of what awaits the common mortals after that (being a Seraphim, she ain't a common mortal). I peg her for the "curious" type of drunk, constantly asking the living hell out of everything and what's this, what's that, why is that guy falling flat on his face and not getting up ? Nor moving ? For hours ? but also hyper and super-excited. She already loves everyone and everything as her sober self, imagine when tipsy. Sliding down further that wonderful realm of drunken stupor might also make her the "sleepy" type, but contrary to Carmilla's "tired" drunk type, she's just yawning and wanting a nap, instead of being exhausted with everything.

Her filter pops like a cork, but given that her demeanor is mainly positive, she'll just shower everyone with praise and love, and at worst embarrass herself with oversharing - a bit of Anna's attitude around Hans in Frozen - so expect a lot of verbal backspace and realizing mid-sentence what she's currently saying, try to cover it up, only to have another slip of the tongue. I think she'll start to feel something around her 10th glass, and by the 16th or so be definitively at least tipsy, but might surprise everyone by tanking a full bottle before giggling at the pretty colors on the ceiling.

And as much just for irony, Sera won't be able to hold that well. She'll struggle to keep her head screwed on straight and try to maintain her usual poise, only to burst out one hysterical laugh ("HA !") at something at the least expected moment, and then snap back to regal and dignified again. While not a total lightweight either, she'll throw in the towel earlier than Charlie, so maybe she has around Vaggie's tolerance. Both the "tired" and "mood-swinger" type of drunk, in a sense that a constant battle to keep up the façade exhausts her pretty quick, and control slips, showing sudden bursts of wheezing hysteria. She'll sway a bit in the air, wings discoordinated, and might have trouble with distance estimations : grabbing something a wee bit too much to the left and patting around to grip the next glass. Might launch into lectures into the void, or talk to herself, both as an effect of the alcohol and to try to focus on something. Most of the time, people don't even peg her for drunk because "drunk" and "Sera" don't compute in their minds, but when you know where to look, you can see the signs that she's definitely wasted.

Might be able to hold 6 or 7 glasses, but by 10 it's over for her. She'll just wander aimlessly and come pretty close to smacking herself into a wall, talking to people that aren't there and being fairly disoriented. Really, the only saving grace is that she doesn't look as stupid as she's feeling, and that nobody will ever believe that the High Seraphim became a high seraphim in the span of an evening : they'll think they were drunk.

Adam. Ha, do I need to say more ? In any case since he's been seen scarfing down food and drinks and pretty much stuffing his face, I'll be lying if I said he isn't a party enjoyer. And he does hold his alcohol pretty well... but less well than he thinks : guy would bet on downing 30 glasses no problems only to get smashed by the 17th or so. Kudos to him, he will reach his 30th, but at that point he's only half-conscious. Verbal coherence goes completely out of the window, luggages included, and physical coherence is not far away, bending over said windowframe to look down and ask how was the landing. This guy is 100% the "rambling" and "complainer" type, because, c'mon, you've seen him when sober, right ? Expect a lot of "in MY time" and "when I was alive" comments, also being the "flirting" type (except nobody can make out what he's slurring, it's as if he's talking sideways from his mouth and sounds like a walking blooper reel) to various results. At its worst, and most inebriated, just before passing out and forgetting this ever happened, he'll also be the "crying" type, all insecurities coming back up, and suddenly the First Man looks like a sobbing child in search for a mother figure (Sera is the unfortunate target), spouting out all what he finds unfair (be it justified or not) and how nobody listens to him nor stays, and that they should obey because he's the dickmaster, and that has to count for something, fucking dammit. (...I didn't expected the swerve into sad, then the even heavier counter-swerve into stupid. Wow.)

However, to get to that point, you'll have to pass layers and layers of "agressive" drunkness, because Adam, being Adam, is gonna look at the lights on the ceiling and decide to fight them, because nobody's supposed to shine brighter than him. That's from glass N° 10 onwards, more or less. And you better let him think he outlasted everyone, or you'll have a whiny bratty fratbro on your hands.

Lute, well. Lute wouldn't want to drink, because Lute is an angel and angels aren't that unbecoming, but Adam already handed her a few and coaxed her into it. It could go both ways : first route, she has uncanny resilience and while managing a tipsy state around 20th shot or so, never really gets to the point of being outright sloshed. Or second, and funnier route : she isn't used to it and is an actual lightweight. Imagine Lute, drunk off her monochrome ass, saluting at nothing and thinking she's in a training session where the 'enemy' has drugged her, and takes on fighting her own chair because it looked at her weird. She'll mix up locations for sure, fuck up distance estimations, pounce on everything, and literally Adam has to be the responsible one for once (with one or two stupid comments of "yeah, women can't hold alcohol" while Emily is drinking him under the table). She'll still be deadly with a weapon, but that's more years of training and her body being honed to the point of it being automatic - because if she had to count on her fuzzed brain and cross-eyed sight alone, she wouldn't hit a cow's arse with a banjo. However, she might also show her more affectionate side to those she likes (like Adam), and definitely be less composed overall, but not relaxing, because Lute wouldn't know relaxing even if she were to be drowning in a beanbag on a nice summer day with a cat on her stomach.

On the second route, 5 glasses and she's toasted, three more and it's over for her. "Violent" and "agressive" type for sure in all cases, though, with a side dash of "sour" and sprinkles of "confronting" sprayed over.

St-Peter would tell you that he doesn't remember being ever drunk in his existence, and he'll be right, because the keyword is remember : he'll go from sober to blackout torched while skipping all intermediate steps after one or two glasses. The guy just blips out of consciousness like the last spark of intelligence behind a Queef's eyes : poof ! gone. His alcohol tolerance would be in the negatives, and the problem is, he doesn't even know it, since he can't ever recall whatever happened. And for fun, nobody tells him, because it's so amusing to watch him eagerly want to participate in the common merriment, even shyly accept a drink to join, then observe the phenomenon the moment he downed the glass : frame one, he's sitting and conscious, frame two, he's very much not anymore, on both accounts. And then wake up, remember nothing, get invited to the next party, and doing it all over again. At least Niffty can boast being awake (even if not really aware) and active, but St-Peter will just go out like a lightswitch.

After a while - and once the fun subsides - people take pity on him and try to experiment with hybrid drinks (mundane + alcohol), but the only effect it achieves is apparently for his mind to spirit away from his body, and he'll just stay there sitting like a statue, smiling into nothing with a thousand yard stare. They call it "good enough" and throw a sheet on him, because the soulless staring can get creepy. Usually, they'll prepare non-alcoholic mimics of the real deal for him from then on : a party's only a good party if everyone has fun, after all.

Aaaand that's a wrap ! Hope you enjoyed !

Again, Masterpost here.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel thoughts #hazbin lute #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel sera #hazbin hotel emily #hazbin emily #hazbin sera #hazbin hotel st peter #hazbin st peter

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orbleglorb · 6 months

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👀👀👀 may I request elaboration on the secret rivers Rosa lore 👀👀👀

(notes: 1. word bad brain sleepy. these sentences might not be complete. 2. took me 4ever because i accidentally closed out while typing and it frustrated me & i didn't get back to it. 3. this version of rivers rosa is different than widely know fanon 4. i only have basic knowledge of spanish and might get some things wrong).

rosa rivera is scared of fire.

she gets the nickname "rosa del río" from friends in panama. rosa of the river. she's an excellent swimmer and is passionate about water access and marine life. in her late twenties, she feels the call of mx. chicago and attends college there to get a marine biology degree. her classmates call her rivers rosa. the nickname sticks, even after she graduates and ages. when mx. chicago calls rosa to participate in blaseball, she is 46. she doesn't hesitate to follow. she signs up as rivers rosa.

she doesn't like fire, but she trusts water. staying a safe distance and spraying the water is an easy job for her. as easy as it gets, anyway. the worst part of fighting fires is going in there. finding people. rosa can't. she can't get herself to move. someone else always can. but she's afraid that one of these days there won't be.

rosa falls to houston. no fires to fight. she gets along with her teammates well. most of them are younger than her. a lot of them have more hope than her. especially the ones that just joined the sport. surprisingly, even some of the ones who live in the shadows are optimistic. "they won't open the book again," they say. she doesn't have it in her to even look at them sometimes. they'll be broken when someone dies. even more disturbing, though, is a player that's always been in the shadows. yuniesky. he has a pet computer or something, and it's named conditional. they slapped their names together on the roster and they play as conditional yuniesky. yuniesky is more of a doomist than rosa. convinced that not only will The Fans open the book, they're out to get the players. all they want is chaos and destruction. they'll cook up new ways to hurt the players, give power to strange new gods no one's seen before. "there's no point," he says when asked why he doesn't bother attending any meetings or going out to dinner. he doesn't elaborate, but everyone knows what he's talking about.

rosa won't let it slide. to be honest, it pisses her off for the same reason the optimistic ones piss her off. they don't have any real experience with this game. what makes them think they know what's gonna happen? she stops phrasing invitations as questions. he only gets more combative. someone-- a kid named sevgi-- suggests that he needs more warning.

"we're getting dinner on friday," rosa would say. "come with us."

yuniesky wouldn't even look up at her to respond, instead focusing on whatever he was doing on his computer. "fine."

rosa started to realize he barely ate. he'd just pick at whatever he ordered with his fork, or just order a drink and swirl the straw around while listening to the conversation. he'd smile occasionally, or make a face, but rarely commented. sometimes he would say something snarky in spanish, low enough so that only rosa could hear. he was hilarious. rude as hell, but hilarious. she liked that he was blunt. sure, it wouldn't hurt for him to develop some tact, but she could tell he didn't really want to be mean. he just sounded like that. he seemed to appreciate rosa's bluntness as well, but he wasn't easy to read.

surprising barely anyone, the book gets opened. rosa is still scared of fire. anastasia isarobot (who used to be in the firefighters shadows) got incinerated, and for some reason, it felt like an omen.

rosa is still scared of fire when the umpire aims for her and raises its hand. she's still scared of fire and trying to run, even though she knows it's useless. she reaches out to the nearest person as she feels her heel catch on fire. it burns worse than she could ever imagine. someone takes her hand.

yuniesky. he's already crying.

rosa realizes she's never seen him show a raw emotion before. and she realizes she'll never say goodbye to lou, or declan, and she'll never go back to chicago or panama, and she's going to die, and there will be no hall waiting for her. she watches the flame spread up her arm and towards yuniesky's hand, and so does he, but he doesn't let go. he's an idiot for it, but rosa couldn't be more thankful. it's a selfish sort of thankfulness, she thinks as the flame spreads across his hand, but she deserves to be selfish. she deserves to die comforted.

yuniesky knows her last words were "thank you," but nobody else heard. nobody even asked. they ask plenty of other questions: "what's wrong with you?" "the hell were you thinking?" "are there any medics here? do we usually keep those on staff?" but not a single question about her. and for some reason, that pisses him off.

after the game, he goes to the hospital (of his own free will, for once). the only thing blaseball players aren't immune to is umpire flames, but people don't typically get away with a small injury. you either die or you're a fire eater.

terrell was the one who took him, since it's hard to drive with only one hand and while in unspeakable amounts of pain. he turns to yuniesky while they're in the waiting room.

"why'd you do it?" he asks in a low voice. not judgementally. just confused. in shock, perhaps.

yuniesky looked at the shoddily bandaged hand in his lap. "no one else would."

#houston spies #asks 4 sasha #blaseball #<- it's late so i feel brave enough to maintag this. nobody's awake it's chill #might put this in the spies server or on ao3 #just so it's somewhere else besides tumblr #orble writing

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homo-erotic-nerd · 1 year

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Reiner Braus NSFW Head-Canons!

Reiner is an extremely dedicated individual who takes most things in his life seriously. This carries over to his sexual endeavors as well. He’s always clear and concise when it comes to expressing his needs and desires to whoever he might be having his way with. I imagine that he’d give simple, stern demands to his sex partner. Picture sentences such as…“Lay down.” Or “On your knees.” While saying these things, his usual cold expression would be on full display.

However!! Reiner isn’t always the emo type, not around those he doesn’t despise or fear. He’s nice to his Marley friends!! So, if and when his partner complies, his expression and deep, imposing tone would soften up just a bit. His eyes, previously squinted and surrounded by crinkles would appear inviting and beguiling!!

Similarly to a numerous amount of characters in Attack on Titan, his life is constantly consumed by war and grief, among many other fun things. I’d argue that the political and literal wars of the world impact mister Braus more so than most other individuals within the verse. This is all to say that I don’t think Reiner would ever find value in keeping a stable, healthy relationship. He’s more of a friends with benefits sort of guy. He simply doesn’t have the time in his life nor the space in his broken heart to maintain something romantically fulfilling. He sees sex as he sees eating a nice meal. A brief, occasional break from hell. It’s no wonder that he canon view his partners in a lovey-dovey light. They’re practically relief objects to Reiner.

This man has some kinks. (Shocking, I know. Imagine having kinks.) Rather interestingly, they’re not all totally vanilla. Some are even quite peculiar!! He soaks up some sort of high from being in a position of power. Perhaps that’s a way of coping with all of the loss in his life. Reiner enjoys utilizing his muscular arms to grab and push around his partner. He’d pin them to walls, to the bed, or really anywhere. More pins than a bowling alley. He specifically enjoys holding his partner’s wrists together and lifting their hands over their head. He also yanks them close to himself before giving a deep kiss.

I know what you’re all thinking. Reiner is great and all but what about the Armored Titan?? Do not fret!! I shall detail some head-canons about this transformation!! In both his human and Titan form, Reiner enjoys displaying his dominance by way of shoving his tongue into the mouth of whoever he’s having.. fun with. As a Titan he’d simply use his enormous hands to grab the comparatively smaller human and hold them in place. His tongue might slip into more places aside from the mouth sometimes.

I don’t know anything about anything, but I shall take this comment and run with it! Actually, on at least a couple of other occasions, Reiner and Annie have displayed some potential sexual chemistry at best, and camaraderie at the worst. I don’t think it’s too far fetched to think that they’ve explored each-other’s bodies, and several times at that. The Female Titan and Armored Titan both rub and grind against each other while the humans inside grow increasingly aroused.

Bad moods. As brought up previously, sex is mostly a tool for relief from ear to Braus. Sometimes he even has higher ups deliver him a ‘pathetic Eldian escort.’ This honorary warrior will take out his frustrations on his escorts, which typically entails really intense fucking. During which, low grunt and groans will escape the lips of the powerful blonde.

Braus is a physical marvel. In every sense of the word, his body is flawless. It’s musicale, extremely so. Not to the point of being excessive, but at the same time, there’s not an inch of the man which isn’t chiseled to perfection. His arms are indented in all the right places. His pecs are square shaped, and have a lot of depth. They can be cupped and jiggles like a woman’s boobs. This is all muscle, though, not mere fat!! Occasional war wounds reside on the man’s body. Mostly in the form of scars, usually across his back or abs. The scars are thin and hardly noticeable, yet add to his extremely masculine appearance.

Aside from some occasional deviations, thus far most of everything about this guy has been all doom and gloom. Sure, he’s a powerful war hero with an often stoic demeanor. However, no character in Attack on Titan fits within one singular archetype. Reiner has a ‘softer’ side to him. He’s not all rugged, and doesn’t even have the strongest will among those within the franchise. What I’m trying to insinuate is that Braus can totally act in a more submissive role as well. This all depends on his mood. He’s forever dominant (And quite scary) while in an angry, angsty state of mind. However, if the man is feelings more depressed and sad as opposed to vengeful, well, that’s when his submissive nature shines true. He likes his short hair being grabbed, he likes being belittled and kicked in the chest (Such an action would result in some jiggle action, of course.) At some point, Eren and the person he despises yet understands have done the dirty. During which, Reiner allowed himself to be spit on and talked down to by the other. He even allows the bullying so be so harsh that it brings him to actual tears. At the same time, his sizable cock would throb.

#attack on titan #aot reiner #reiner smut #reiner headcanons #attack on titan reiner #reiner x you #reiner imagine #shingeki no kyojin reiner #reiner brainrot #snk reiner #snk smut #shingeko no kyojin #aot x reader #aot fandom #aot smut #aot x you

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eddiemunsonswhxre · 3 months

Text

where have i been?

an update for those curious.

hey there my loves, long time no see.

i’m not sure how many of you will actually read this or care to see why i haven’t written in over a year now but typing this stuff out helps me process and get back into my groove.

well, today is january 16, 2024. the last thing i posted that was an actual one shot was posted on january 3, 2023. i haven’t written since. 2023 was my worst year yet and caused me to learn a lot about people and myself.

things were going alright in the beginning, i was in my second semester of college and my biggest problem was 2 of my 3 roommates (lived in a quad) hated each other so me and my bestie/3rd roommate had to play mediator and it was exhausting. i started liking a guy and got my hopes up. and i started to get more and more annoyed with school and my living situation every day. i was ecstatic to move out of that room despite hating my hometown. the day of move out, one of my roommates who i thought was someone very close to me blocked me and all of our friends on everything with no explanation but we knew she wasn’t coming back for 23-24.

i like where i grew up for a maximum of a week at a time, after that my depression just kicks my ass and im not having a great time. my plan for the summer was to work my ass off so much so that i wouldn’t have time to think of anything else. that backfired, because a few days after i came home one of my two jobs fell through unexpectedly and my other job was giving me less than half the hours they promised me. i was broke. everyone says it’s so easy to get a job these days because everyone is hiring but i applied to over ten places within a reasonable distance from me and didn’t get a single one. so i spent too much time with myself and that’s not normally a good thing.

to make matters even worse, in june my mom was sentenced to three years in prison for a crime she committed back in 2020. i don’t want to get into too many specifics, but my mom would never harm anyone she just has struggled with addiction. my mom was my constant emotional support, and knowing she was no longer going to be around ripped me to shreds. not even a month later after my mom was shipped off to prison, my dog died. and i know you might think “dogs die all the time it’s a pet.” but my dog was much more than that. she wasn’t even three years old and was a beautiful great pyrenees german shepard mix and she was the sweetest girl ever. i don’t care how ridiculous it sounds, because i know my soul and hers were meant to be together. i was even in the process of registering her as an emotional support animal so i could take her to college with me because she was finally old enough and for the most part out of the puppy phase. but one night out of nowhere she got really sick and within an hour of her showing signs something was wrong she died while i was holding her. not the greatest thing for a 19 year old who’s already struggling to experience. it took my over a month to stop seeing her like that every time i closed my eyes. call me dramatic, but that dog really was a child to me.

after that, i went to stay with my cousin for a few weeks and that was nice but i still knew i wasn’t feeling right. i moved back to school in august and had way too high of hopes that everything would fix itself. surprise, it didn’t. in fact, i just got worse. i reached lows i haven’t hit in over two years. i was having roommate problems, i was trying to do way too much at once, and i was neglecting my health. i had a breakdown.

the highlight of my semester was taking a week off to visit my best friend since age 2 for her birthday (she lives roughly a 2 hour plane ride away from me now) with our other two best friends. then i came back and immediately totaled my car. my car was a piece of shit yes, but it got me places. not having a car when you’re a person who drives around to destress is not fun. i was even worse mentally at this point and i was trying so so hard to get into my overbooked doctor to get my medications raised. the only constant i had were my three friends at school and my studies. so i threw myself into them. i was never alone and if i was i was nose deep in a text book. i was just avoiding the rest of my existence. i was able to get my meds upped and decided i was done wallowing. i started a diet that is actually manageable and enjoyable and discovered for the first time workouts that i actually liked doing. it was something small, but i knew i was turning myself around.

i went home for winter break knowing it was going to be tough. i also had to spend this time looking for a new car. it was an extremely stressful process to say the least. but i focused on myself, taking all the time for myself that i needed and processing everything that had made me get to such a bad place. i’ve always been very spiritual, so i dove more into that as well as trusting the universe.

i’ve decided that 2024 will be my best year yet. i got a new car, im getting a new job, im doing great in school, my mom is getting released from prison literally six hours after i post this, and im taking care of myself in more ways than one. while doing a lot of that reflecting, i remembered how much i used to love to write and how that passion just died after loving it since i was ten. i started small, doing short story exercises and getting into reading again. i finally, after an entire year, have my passion for writing back.

i can’t promise i’ll be consistent with uploads because i’ve decided that my goal for the year is to write a novel. so that project is going to be my main focus and it isn’t anything fanfic related, it’s actually a psychological thriller. more than likely i will be asking for opinions on here throughout the year as well.

with that said, my plans this year for this blog are to keep posting. eddie munson is mainly who i write for, but i want to expand my horizons. i want to challenge myself with genres and types of characters. i will greatly appreciate any requests you can give and i promise i will read through them. if i don’t post them right away, just know it may come out three months later. sometimes inspiration sparks at weird times.

if you’ve read this far, thank you. i hope this can inspire you to see that there’s light at the end of the tunnel but sometimes you’ve gotta dig the extra dirt to it yourself. beyond thankful to anyone who was here a year ago and has come back to read my new stuff- you made an aspiring writer really proud of herself.

much much love

-eddiemunsonswhxre 🤍

#eddiemunsonswhxre #i’m back #mental health is important

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