#if you say 'keeping you in my thoughts' then you are not attributing yourself with anything religious trust me

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day five: size kink

>>> so obviously there is no other option size kink and toji fushiguro are synonymous in my book! i do call him zen'in in this so i guess we can be mama fushiguro lmao! i hope you guys are having a good time with kinktober so far :D

>>> starring toji (zen'in) fushiguro x curvy!fem!reader >>> cw: size kink duh, daddy kink i'm not apologizing anymore, reader is stuck in a washer, doggy, oral (fem receiving), reader is used to shit men lol >>> wc: 2.3k >>> event masterlist

toji is massive, in every form of the word. he’s tall, towering over most people he comes across at his looming stature. most of the time, tall people were lanky and lean, slender with limbs that stretch for days. he didn’t fit the stereotype. toji was beefy, his biceps were the size of your head and his hands could cover your entire face. his arms aren’t where it stops either, his chest is broad; he’s so impossibly wide, always struggling to find clothes that fit him right. not that you mind too much of course, watching those poor t-shirts try to contain him rile you up to no end every time. he was always there to grab whatever you needed off of high shelves, changing lightbulbs and dusting the ceiling fans because it was all too easy for him to do. he was ridiculously strong, able to open even the tightest of jars and sweep you into his arms like it was nothing. it wasn’t like you ever overlooked toji’s size, it’s just that you never thought yourself all that small. 

in fact, you struggled with your figure a bit, never quite knowing where you fit in for most of your life. boys either made you feel too insecure over your size or only ever wanted you for that curvy and voluptuous figure. at first, toji was no different, knowing how to talk at a beautiful girl when he sees one. he approaches you, lays out some dirty and cheesy pick up line that’s not even remotely close to original, and is honestly surprised when you snort through your nose and roll your eyes. 

“i had more hope outta you, you were actually cute.” you sneer, quickly turning to keep walking down the quiet streets without any more trouble. and that was it–you really weren’t going to give him a second glance even though you admitted he was attractive? he had never really been turned down before, his looks alone enough to open any door. seems with a body like that you were used to gross one-liners. 

“hey, little lady, wait.” he said, his voice a little softer than it had been when he was hitting on you before. you had already walked a few feet away, but noticing the slight change in disposition, you halted. “maybe that was a bit much, i got ahead’a myself.” he says, tilting his head down in an apology. “let me make it up to ya?” 

your eyes narrowed at him. his arms were folded over his chest, the fabric of the struggling shirt expanding to its fullest potential. his hair ruffled a bit with the warm breeze that blew through, the color of his locks as dark as the night sky—though his eyes shone like the stars above too, something in the green expanses of the hazy orbs twisting your gut and making you decide that if anybody deserves a second chance, it was this sexy stranger. could you even be that angry at him for his lewd comment when you were eyeing him down too, only thinking of his physical attributes?

at your hesitation he speaks again. “let me walk you home. it’s late, and like i said, you’re very pretty.” he raises his brow as if asking one final time. you breathe some air out through your nose, suspiciously looking him up and down at the offer. “no funny business, just protection, little lady.” he swears with his hands by his head. 

you hum, nodding your head for him to follow you as you start walking, hips swinging and hair swaying. when he thinks back on it maybe he fell in love right here, watching you stomp towards your house with way more attitude than your tiny body should contain, doing your damndest to try and play hard to get. but toji’s no fool. he follows you, he increases his strides to catch up with a small effort, but he’s walking beside you with a smug look on his face. 

he makes meaningless chit-chat, learns about some of your hobbies and about your job. he gets your phone number, and apologizes one last charismatic time before you shut the door of your apartment and he’s walking back home, thinking of how he rarely plays the long game for a woman. but he knew you were worth it, the perfect little thing to brighten his days. 

unlike you, toji realized how tiny you were immediately. sure, you were curvy and your chest and ass definitely were not small–you even had a little tummy to you, but you were just so short and compact, he knew he could manhandle you like a toy. not to mention how cute and bratty you were, he was all but compelled to be your man and fuck that attitude right out of you. 

so the long game he played, talking to and courting you like a proper adult, though it isn’t long until you’re accepting him into your home and letting him tame that bratty streak of yours. 

and you’re so glad you decided to give the ginormous stranger another go. he earns his place in your heart and in your home in under a year, and you’ve been grateful for his presence around the house. he makes you feel safe and protected, your own personal security guard. no place could be safer than those hulking arms trapping you to a chest at least two times as wide as yours. his hands always felt so warm and rough against your frame, seeing them against your body always made you feel like the daintiest thing in the whole world. god, and the way those enormous fingers moved inside your little hole—

maybe that’s why you thought you thought you could rely on the burly man you’ve come to love to be the perfect boyfriend he’s shown you he can be, despite the weird looks you get walking around in public with toji zen’in. you never minded the whispers or the rumors of his reputation, you knew him better than anyone, another reason you thought that when you screamed out his name for help, that he’d come running to your rescue. 

to which in part, he did, to his credit. when he heard your voice far away in the laundry room hollering for him, sounding a little too afraid for his comfort, he was there in an instant. but rescuing? nah. he couldn’t help but laugh at your compromising situation. you’re face first in the top load washer, your top-half completely invisible, ass and legs squirming in the air. of course you’d fall in, the height of the washer was something you often complained about; you had to basically crawl inside the machinery to get clothes in and out, and it annoyed you to no end. now, the worst had happened and here you are. you couldn’t even just push yourself out due to how high your legs dangle, you’d surely fall. 

you know what they say, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure, and as good as toji has been to you, he can’t repress the perverted fantasy his mind drums up at the sight of your tiny body stuck in the washer. you kick your feet harder at the sound of his laughter, to which he can only belly chuckle harder.  

“you need some help, darlin’?” he teases, large hands wrapping around your ankles, halting your kicking immediately. he holds your legs there by his thighs, standing between them. he smirks down at your fat ass jiggling and recoiling as you try to squirm your way up the washer. he chuckles at your failures and the sounds of frustrations that follow, until you finally whine out for help. 

“toji— just get me out of here.” you pout flatly, folding your arms over your chest inside the barrel. he chuckles deeply again, sliding his hands up your bare legs until they came across the mounds of your ass. he squeezes the flesh almost tenderly. 

“but little lady,” he hums as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your shorts and slowly drags them down your legs. he has to kneel to get the garment completely off, but he doesn’t mind. he decides kneeling is advantageous for him, especially once he sees your pretty little hole clenching around nothing, just eager to be filled. “ya look like a little toy from down here,’nd i’m thinkin i oughta play.” he has to spread your ass cheeks a little bit to see you in all your glory before he leans in to lick a stripe from glistening slit to your puckering asshole. he growls at the flavor, something he just can’t stop himself from doing no matter how many times he gets to taste you. you can feel the soft tickle of his hair against the insides of your thighs, the searing heat of his tongue making your squirm back against him in a desperate search for more. 

you should have known toji would be greedy, taking advantage of your inability to move and abusing that to the fullest. he laps at you, shoving his fat tongue into your tiny little hole, fucking it wider for his cock to use. after all these months of him fucking you open, you were still so tight and small. you hug even his tongue, silky wet walls making his eyes roll back a little bit. his large hands hold your asscheeks, kneading like a kitten making biscuits, even though it felt more like a lion pawing at you. you taste so good, it has his cock jumping against his zipper and begging for freedom. he decides to deny himself that simple pleasure, focused on driving more of those cute little whimpers from your lips. the tunnel of the washer was amplifying all your sounds, and he felt the torture of not having your tiny cunt wrapped tight around his cock every passing second. 

you were panting, beginning to feel dizzy from being nearly upside down. every stroke of toji’s tongue massaging your fluttering entrance and the intensity of his deft fingers flicking your clit combined sent you spiraling, both physically and literally, towards the edge. he can’t help but lean back and watch the way you fuck yourself back on his mouth for more, picking up the pace of his fingers to send you over your limit. it’s so cute to watch your thighs clench down and shiver as you cum, screeching and begging for his dick next. 

and who was the feared sorcerer killer to deny such a sweet request from his beloved? his pants are off, belt clinking against the floor. you ready yourself, feeling the rough warmth of his hands envelop your sides and his hips cleave your thighs apart yet again. he’s so strong, he doesn’t even have to use his hands to toss you around, positioning you exactly the way he needs you to fuck you into pieces. his cock splits your lower lips and he unceremoniously bottoms out, eyes clenched shut at how your tiny cunt grips him. your jaw drops with the feeling of being so full at once, his cock just as broad and long as the rest of him. he kisses your cervix before he’s even started moving and you’re already squirming and crying like always. the stretch burns, every time feels like your first with toji. especially like this, you’re bent in half and he’s so deep in doggy that you’re seeing stars—though that could be due to the dizziness swirling around your head. 

“so tight f’me like always, gorgeous.” he chuffs, drawing back to the tip and plowing his length back in, entranced by how you clench and release around him. you mewl your acknowledgement, your hips eagerly moving back against him for more friction, his strokes deliriously slow. 

he notes your impatience, amused. 

“need more, little thing?” he teases, licking his smirking lips at the sound of your pathetic whines and kicks. you nod eagerly, realizing he can’t see it. 

“yes, daddy, please! need you to make me cum–” 

before you can finish your sentence, he’s punishing you for asking for it. this angle is so unforgiving, you can feel every vein decorating his shaft as he destroys you, the tip colliding with your womb so hard it has your toes curling and vision going white. his grunts are so low and delicious, a reward for the perfect pussy you offer him nightly. it’s so good, he can’t stop until he beats your insides into the shape of the dick making you scream right now. 

your ass bounces around his thrusts, absorbing every snap of his hips into your unsuspecting and fragile body. he loves watching you break, like his own personal little doll.

“cum–daddy oh my god i’m gonna cum so hard!” you whine, thrashing. 

“oh coat this cock, babygirl.” he groans, feeling himself letting go, unable to fight back against your vice grip anymore. “cum with me, need to feel it.” his head falls back as you spasm around him, the vision of your little pussy accommodating his size too much to bear. 

“god, please toji!! cum, cum, i need it so bad.” you whimper, your voice so breathy and tired, so beautiful as you beg for his load. it’s already established that he can’t deny you, so he doesn’t. he slides his cock in and out of your slick one last time, hissing as his balls tighten and explode into your cunt, white-hot and heavy. it fills you to the brim like it always does, even when his enormous dick withdraws from you and the mix starts to escape down your thighs you still feel impossibly full. 

finally, he rights you onto your feet, his strong steady hands keeping you upright as you wobble a bit. when your vision stops spinning and you bring yourself to open your eyes again, you’re met with toji’s smirking face. his eyes are lazy with amusement and love as he looks at you, giving you an affectionate pat to the head. 

“kinda wanted to leave you there ‘nd keep usin’ ya like that.” 

#kyleewritesjjk #kylee's kinktober event #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #jjk x reader #toji thirst #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #toji zenin #jjk toji #fushiguro toji #toji zenin x reader #toji x size kink

[httpsserene]

𝐡𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐟𝟏 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥

𝘂𝗽𝗹𝗼𝗮𝗱 𝟵: 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝗹𝗲𝗰𝗹𝗲𝗿𝗰 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 | 𝗼𝗿𝗴𝗮𝘀𝗺 𝗱𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘆/𝗱𝗲𝗻𝗶𝗮𝗹

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: the 2023 season has had a despicable effect on charles’ self-worth. it pains you to see how he attributes ferrari’s failure to deliver to himself. you can’t stand to see him berate himself for things that are out of his control. when the emilia-romagna grand prix is understandably canceled, you start forming a plan. if charles doesn’t believe he’s as good as you say he is, you’ll make him internalize it–using any means necessary. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. explicit. orgasm delay/denial. handjobs. no penetrative sex. dom/sub undertones. sub!charles. mild praise kink. not beta read. orgasm control. charles’ self deprecation. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 1k words. 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: charles leclerc x fem!black!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: drabble. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: get you daniel • caesar ft. kali uchis

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: not going to lie to you, after charles told xavi “let’s talk after the race” in austin, this upload automatically came to mind. in my delusional mind this whole fic convinced him to finally speak up for himself, even though it wasn’t posted before that (he hacked into my google docs or smith idk). i love when men whimper. haha, lol, who said that. a small drabble to satiate my soft!charles urge. hope y’all enjoy !!!

do you want to be added to my general taglist? send me an ask!

cross-posted on my ao3, htppsss

to see what kinktober uploads have already been completed or to see what's coming next check my f1 kinktober masterlist ! for all of my works see my general masterlist!

your hand is dripping lube on charles’ thigh as you brush a featherlight touch of a finger on his cock. he’s been rock hard since you’ve pulled his clothes off, even though he complained that this is the worst idea you’ve ever had. his head is turned to the side, buried in the pillow, already muffling his whimpers at your barely there touch. the red flush of his cheeks is already spreading down his chest and you haven’t even started touching him properly; this may be easier than you thought.

you shift forward, situating yourself comfortably between his legs, and you speak quietly but firmly, “tell me when you’re close.” charles hums, nodding his head jerkily, and bucks his hips upwards searching for more friction. you laugh at his desperation and push his hips down with your free hand, pressing him firmly into the bed—he doesn’t attempt to fight your grasp. power rushes to your head; he’s completely capable of pushing you off him with little to no effort; and he’s lying beneath you willingly. you loosely wrap your fist around him, and slowly drag your hand up and down. the amount of pressure you’re applying is incredibly light, but charles reacts as if you’re roughly squeezing. his back arches off the bed, thighs twitching sensitively, and his hand flies down to grasp at your wrist.

you pinch his thigh in warning, a sharp gasp at the fleeting pain escapes his lips, and you chastise him gently, “hey, i thought you were going to be good for me? hands off—put them by your head.” he squirms at the sound of your disappointment, and in his haste to be perfect for you, he takes your command a step further. he places his hands above his head, and tangles them together—he strives to be good for you.

you stare at him, unmoving, and watch as his eyes flutter across your face desperately trying to read your emotions. his eyes are wet with unshed tears, and his tongue flicks out to wet his dry lips anxiously. you break, it’s so hard to be mean to him when he looks so pretty. resuming the sweet stroke of your hand, you keep you motions calm and controlled—you want his orgasm to come to him calmly. however, no matter how gently you handle him, it doesn’t seem like your preferred outcome will play out. charles’ abs flutter, undulating at the effort he’s using to refrain from pushing up into the wet grasp of your fist, and his nails are digging into hands. on your next upward stroke, you twist your hand around the head of his cock, and his shocked moan echoes around the room. his face flushes a deeper red, humiliated at how easy he is, and he whimpers at the smirk that rises to your lips. you pick up the pace immediately, and wrap your other hand around him at his base. you sync the twist of both your hands, and hyperfocus on teasing the head of his cock. you lightly press your thumb across his slit randomly forcing a pitchy squeal from him, sometimes you trace the underside vein with a nail and a pained whine is muffled into the pillow.

it’s mortifying—not even three minutes after you started touching him, and he’s going to cum. you see him struggle to fight the coiling knot in his tummy, it’s useless, this is another race he always loses. charles’ chest heaves with his stuttered, rushed breaths and he whines in shame, “s’il te plaît—‘m close—sorry, i can’t help it!”

you coo at him, pouting your lips at his apology, “oh, charlie, don’t feel bad. you’re supposed to be close” you rub the palm of your hand roughly across his sensitive tip, and his body tenses at the switch in treatment, eyes rolling back under the intense pleasure, and you confidently reassure him, “thank you for telling me you’re about to cum. you’re always my good boy.” and, you pull your hands away from him, ceasing all motions.

charles crumbles. he sobs forcefully at the feeling of his release being pulled from him at the last second, tears streaming down his face, no longer having the will to hold them back. he thrashes his head against the pillow, and pistons his hips upwards into the air like it will convince you to touch him again. he flexes his cramped hands before he pulls them down to hide his face from your view. you let the monegasque cry out his emotions, knowing that his tears are from the shock of you denying his orgasm rather than pain. he unintelligibly pleads in french, brokenly whining about how close he was, his mouth running uncontrollably. when his tears slow, and his shoulders stop shaking, you tenderly pull his hands away from his eyes, and whisper at him sweetly to open his eyes.

he opens his pretty green eyes, and you lean down gently pecking his lips a few times before you speak, “there’s something you forgot to tell me. if you wanted my permission to cum, baby.” charles drops his eyes away, refusing to meet your gaze. 

“you were supposed to tell me how good you are,” you see his lips part as he rushes to do so, but you smack your teeth, silencing him before he begins, “not how you’re good for me, charles—how you’re a good driver. how you’re one of the best, most talented formula one pilots we’ve seen. how you’re ferrari’s youngest driver since 1961. how you’re capable of winning a championship,” charles scoffs disbelievingly, “how you’ll no longer blame yourself for things out of your control. how you’ll realize that the team’s mistakes aren’t your fault. how you’ll stop allowing yourself to be the scapegoat for their shortcomings. how you’ll stop accepting their excuses for constantly disappointing you.” you stare at charles with earnest eyes, letting him absorb your words.

“you’re one of the best charles. you’re loved. everyone wants to see you succeed. everyone wants to see you become confident in yourself again. everyone knows that if ferrari gave you the car you needed, you’d be racing towards your championship. you’re skilled, charles. you’re wonderful.”

charles shakes his head, doubtful, and whispers timidly, “i’m not.”

your heart shatters, and you shakily respond, “oh,” you sniff, gathering your composure, “so, you’re saying i’m lying to you? are you calling me a liar, charles?”

charles wiggles against the bed, fighting the double-edged sword he turned on himself, and whimpers in frustration. he sobs, but shakes his head furiously at your question—you’d never lie to him, you wouldn’t hurt him. you halt the vigorous shake of his head, grasping at his chin with one hand and turning him to face you, “then…i must be telling you the truth, hm?” charles swallows, and murmurs out a soft oui. 

“good,” you clear your throat and drop your hold, bringing that same hand down to wrap around his cock again. charles tenses at the moist warmth of your palm.  “since we’re on the same page, if you want me to let you cum, all you have to do is convince me that you believe the same things i just said. i have all night to make you accept the truth, charlie. don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

taglist: @lorarri @soph1644 @jaydensluv @fanboyluvr @nissaimmortal @redgonerogue @hollie911 @saintwrld@buendiabebeta@butterfly-lover@lana-d3l-rey@dylan1721 @spicybagel14 @dhhdhsiavdhaj@miahgonzalez16@jjaekin @dkbj14 @f1lover55 @f1lov3r @mindless-rock@biancathecool@barnestatic@sweetpiccolo-blog@my-ylenia @zaynzierulez@reblog-princess-blog @lovingaphroditesworld @katekipshidze @darleneslane @inloveallthetime

© httpsserene 2023

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x black!reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x fem!reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc x y/n #f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 x black!reader #f1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x female rader #formula 1 x black!reader #formula 1 x you #f1 smut #f1 fic #f1 imagine #mclaren formula 1 #serene’s chapters. #⋆⭒˚｡⋆. series special: formula 1 #♡ ༘*.ﾟ love interest: cl. #httpss :// kinktober 23 #f1 kinktober #formula 1 kinktober #kinktober 2023

[aether-starlight]

You’re the Fish

Pairing: Rafayel x Grumpy!Reader

Warnings: None. Kinda enemies to lovers vibe.

Summary: Rafayel texts you to come over for an emergency. His concept of it is vastly different from yours.

Word count: 700 words.

You didn’t bother to keep the door from slamming in your wake, sprinting into the room to find Rafayel sitting on the floor, brush in hand.

“Do you ever check your phone?” You seethed, brushing a rebellious strand of hair behind your ear.

He didn’t even bother to look at you, enraptured on the canvas before him.

“Not really, but I’ve been known to answer faster to texts starting with ‘baby’ or ‘sweetness’, even.”

“How about pompous prick?”

Rafayel sent you one of those infuriating smiles, unfazed as ever.

“Ooh, someone’s prickly. Rough day at work, Miss Bodyguard?”

“For one: I’m not your bodyguard.” You kneeled by his side and snatched the brush out of his hand. “Second: where exactly is the emergency in this situation?”

Rafayel raised a languid brow.

“Can’t you see?” He gestured at the painting before him, splattered with hues of citrine and turquoise. “It’s a mess.”

It looked like something out of a museum.

Your stare became deadly, words slowly spelled out as you asked: “You made me rush to the outskirts of the city, breaking who knows how many speed limits…for a painting?”

Rafayel’s mirthful gaze withered. Something almost embarrassed crept into his features as his eyes darted between you and the painting.

“Well, I…you see—“

“I thought a Wanderer was kicking your ass!” You exploded.

By that point, he was almost pouting.

“They wouldn’t be kicking my ass, per se.”

You faked solemnity, shaking your head.

“Of course not, maybe just gravely injuring or maiming, nothing too extreme.”

Finally, both of you settled into silence.

He was now looking at his hands, half-mindedly rubbing at the spots of paint coloring his knuckles and the sides of his palms.

Beneath the warm light of the vintage lamp beside the canvas, part of his initial bravado seemed to wane.

The circles beneath the mauve of his eyes became clearer, his hair less of its usual perfect styling.

You sighed, and felt yourself soften. Stress bled out of your body, allowing your shoulders to relax, easing the line at your brow.

“Why am I here, Rafayel? The real reason.”

“Does there have to be a reason?” He asked, petulant as a child.

“Isn’t there always?”

Rafayel brightened, leaning his body closer to yours.

“You see, this reminds me of a story, of a man who was adamant on catching one very specific fish. So obsessed in fact, that when he finally caught it, he had to let it go.“

Your brows furrowed, attempting to stay in the line of his erratic storytelling, all moving hands and vivid intonation.

Rafayel was like that in a way. You soon discovered that your best shot at deciphering how he felt was inside fantasy.

Stories and narratives weren’t just entertainment for him, they were a window to his heart and mind.

The weather would never just be the weather, just like a story was never just a story.

“Am I the fish or the man in this metaphor?”

Rafayel’s gaze was half hidden by long eyelashes.

“Guess. I’d like you to be one, but you’re the other.”

“Maybe I’m none.”

“You are no fun.”

“And you are impractical.”

He huffed out a laugh.

“Whatever you say, Miss Bodyguard.”

You observed him for a second, following the light curve at the corners of his lips, and the tired tilt of his shoulders.

“Rafayel.”

“Hm?”

When his gaze met yours there was something unguarded about it.

“You don’t have to catch me.” You cradled one of his hands in yours, returning the brush to its rightful owner. “Just tell me you want to hang out next time.”

Some of his usual flirty self returned at that.

“We’d be up to no good, I would hope.”

You shook your head, a traitorous smile blooming on your face, and if Rafayel felt his heart stutter at it, he would attribute it to exhaustion.

“You’re incorrigible.”

You gave the painting one last look and had to do a double take.

The once abstract shapes were now connecting into something more, soul peeking out from the impeccable technique.

“Rafayel, is that my face?!”

#love and deepspace #rafayel #love and deepspace Rafayel #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #love and deep space rafayel

[highhhfiveee]

safety net [p2] (pornstar!mike schmidt x reader)

part one: 💸 | part three: 📹

are we excited???? prepare your hearts cause the feels kinda took over

tags: fluff, lots of internal pining, porn mentions but nothing graphic. mike and reader are both genuine people and that draws them to each other. should be error free bc i actually proofread this one but if there are any, my sincerest apologies

“you have to be, like, evading taxes or something.”

mike chuckles behind you as he closes the door to his apartment--sorry, penthouse.

you're stood with your jaw unhinged, eyes scanning over the wide, sweeping space of his open concept living room and all of the furniture that decorates it, expensive-looking but cozy in a way that you wish you could replicate in your own place. you stalk over to tall windows that line the farthest wall, creating a corner that allows for you to see the bustling city below; all of the flashing lights, people drunkenly stumbling around street signs, and cars zipping and weaving through traffic.

you'd never seen anything like this, just a girl used to the urban suburbs on the south side of town, and your cheeks flush with embarrassment when you feel mike's presence behind you. you don't turn to him, dropping your shoes and purse to the ground and keeping your eyes trained on a street corner below.

"the view's what sold me on the place. i'm able to watch the sunrise on that side," he points to the windows on the other side of the kitchen, offering a view of the green space nestled in between skyscrapers. "and the sunset on this one."

"must be nice," you reply, backing away from the glass and observing the rest of the space. it was the size of, like, three of your apartments combined, organized and free of mess. "i only have a view of a corner store, and a really really busy bus stop. it's super annoying."

"where do you live?"

you give him the name of the neighborhood you'd known your whole life. you didn't recognize any of the area's flaws when you were a child. it was never a red flag to you that the street off of the one you grew up on had two storefronts of the same fast food chain on either end, or that the closest supermarket was twenty minutes away. you hadn't even batted an eye when some of your school “friends” would tell you about visiting gourmet cupcake restaurants and vintage consignments stores. you just went along with it, saying, "that's so cool. the fanciest place by my house is the $7.99 buffet." they all laughed at you.

it wasn't until you were older, freshly graduated from high school and looking to be on your own that you realized the disparity across the region. only people with certain attributes got the nice things, and you'd been conditioned to be grateful to have a daycare in a plaza with a smoke shop and tax preparation office.

"it's just too expensive for me to move anywhere else. i can barely make rent now, with the way they keep raising it every year. kept the tag on this dress just so i could take it back." you look down at yourself and mike can see the longing in your eye, the twinkle in them that wishes you could hang it up in your closet tomorrow.

after tonight, you kind of wish you hadn't bought it at all. you thought that simon would’ve found it insatiable, wining and dining you before taking you back to his place for a night cap, but all you think about now is the embarrassment of walking back into the luxury department store, handing them your receipt for the item you wore once and couldn’t keep.

it fills you with distaste and you find yourself desperate to peel the item off your skin. “is it okay if i shower?”

mike nods furiously, apologizing for not offering. he’d just been staring at you while you talked, admiring you. he was used to people with perfect appearances around him, done up by professionals that costed $200 an hour, but you were different, uncaring about your unruly curls and smeared eyeliner. you were unbothered and carefree, and that fascinated him.

he leads you down a long hall, coming to a stop once it forks into three different directions: left, right, and slightly diagonal right. the walls are lined with paintings and photos of mike and people that share his features, and at the end of the diagonal path is a giant trophy case, filled to the brim with plaques and trophies of various sizes, shapes, and finishes.

“jesus,” you murmur, abandoning your escort. mike’s walked ahead of you, but he makes his way back when he notices you’re not behind him.

“everything okay?”

you point to his trophy case, letting out an incredulous laugh. “are all of those for you?”

mike nods, and you laugh again, shaking your head in disbelief. “okay, so you’re obviously some sports star because no way someone living like this wouldn’t be.”

mike goes rigid next to you. he never knew how to bring up his career to new people he met, sometimes ping-ponging between “i work for a world-renown production company” and “i’m an entrepreneur”. he had no problem lying to other people, his guard all the way up from years of rejection and disgust at the mention of “sex worker” and “pornstar”, but something felt wrong about lying to you. he swallows hard, racking his mind for a semi truth.

“not sports, but definitely still physical.” you scrunch your nose at this, blinking at him in confusion, but you stop when he grabs your hand and nudges his head in the direction of the bathroom. “didn’t you want to shower?”

you nod, allowing him to pull you down the hall but not without a second glance at the case. what other physical career presented you with that many awards?

the bathroom is a star in it's own right, modern in a way that you fawn over when you're watching hgtv. the gigantic, complicated looking shower invites you from the corner, nestled in between the gadget-rigged toilet and garden bathtub.

all of the decor in here was clean, pale blue, a nice offset to all of the white tile and gold-accented appliances.

you're half-listening, your conscience replaced with static as mike explains where everything is. "so...towels are over here..."

his shower had a rainforest head and a small, handheld one clipped into a holder, with a screen embedded into the wall. there was a bench and railing to hold onto, a speaker on the back tile....your eyes cut to the toilet, and the smaller one next to it. a bidet??????

"...and, the bidet remote's right next to the soap. i'll lay some clothes out for you on the hall table, but let me know if you need anything, okay?" you react a little too late, raising your hand and squeaking, "wait" right as mike's backed out of the room.

"fuck."

you try to look around for things, eventually finding the towels in a closet concealed as a part of the wall and, as a bonus, a knob to turn on the heated floor?????

you strip down, completely bare under the dress, and fold it up, retail employee coded, delicately placing it by the sink with the tag on top. it was exactly how you'd return it, with a shitty excuse and plastic smile. you do the same with mike's jacket.

you throw your hair up before wrapping yourself in the towel, delicately cloaked in what had to be egyptian cotton, and pace on over to the shower. you tap the daunting screen, and it lights up with a flourish, displaying the date, time, weather, and a host of different icons.

you don't know why it's so hard for you to turn the shower on, scrolling and bumbling through a collection of options that weren't simply turn on. why did you need to use a screen anyway? why reinvent the simple wheel that was a faucet lever?

you decide you need mike's help after a bit, though self-conscious about having to ask after he probably told you earlier. you splash cool water on your face before leaving the room, attempting to wring the anxiety out of your body.

you're at the fork in the hallway again, the view of you obscured from the living room by a wall, and you turn your attention to mike's trophy case again. you're too far to see any of the engravings on anything and you're so curious to find out what they say.

you feel your muscles attempt to pull you down the lonely hall, but you halt, reminding yourself that mike was a kind person who'd invited you into his home, and you were supposed to be showering, not snooping. still, even with the moment of morality, untrustworthy interest prodded at your brain.

mike's exiting his room with a handful of clothes for you when he catches you, arms wound around yourself to keep your towel up. you haven't seen him yet, your gaze fixed on something down the hall. he gulps softly, unaware that he would see you like this so early in your connection. your long neck cranes forward to see better, and he prematurely wonders if you're sensitive there, mind swirling with musings of bites and marks.

"something wrong?" you jolt, blinking and stammering and damn near jestering as you attempt to defend yourself. mike doesn't look at you with malice or cynicism, simply stepping closer as your eyes flitter around. "i, uh...i need help with the shower. i don't know how to turn it on."

mike huffs, squinting his eyes at you jovially. "that the only thing?" fuck.

you drop your shoulders with a deep sigh, throwing a pointed finger down the hall. "i also wanna know why you have all those awards." there's a small, almost undetectable change in mike's face, his eye twitching. you watch him shrug it off, placing a hand on your shoulder to lead you back to the bathroom. "i'll explain after you shower."

you're puzzled as to why he's so cagey about it, but you don't question it, accepting his statement and finally listening to him as he explains what to do

you're alone again after he sets the clothes down and leaves. he took your dress, easing you with "just going to hang it up. no worries" and a sheepish smile, and you're eager, ready to hear about what he does and how he's able to afford all this, including this shower that provides you with the best shower you think you've ever taken.

you're able to get the water to the perfect temp, scalding, with the perfect amount of pressure to sting your skin and make you feel clean. you wash away all of your worries; thoughts of keeping a roof over your head, being okay, and finding a genuine connection extinguished with the hum of soft jazz and lather of ylang ylang scented soap.

you lotion yourself with one of the various creams on mike's counter, soothed by the powder smell, and slip into the clothes you're provided--a pair of soft, heart-covered boxers and a university t-shirt, faded into burgundy from countless washes.

mike's sitting on the couch, scrolling aimlessly on his phone when the the demure pitter patter of your feet sounds against the floors, and he swears he almost dies when he sees you.

maybe it hadn't been totally random when he chose the clothes for you, deciding to give you two of his favorite items so he could see how they looked on you. the shirt, very lived in and from his alma mater, skirted your thighs and covered up his boxers, draping over your lithe body in a way that made his mouth go dry.

"okay," you call, dropping beside him on the couch. the wispy hairs around your hairline frame your clean face, guiding his attention to the smattering of dark moles around your eyes and temples. "tell me. what are all of those awards for?"

"do you want some water or something?" he interrupts, and while you accept, you furrow your eyebrows at him. he gets up with the swiftness of a nascar pit crew, and you hold your gaze on him, pivoting your body as he moves.

"mike, c'mon, what gives? you can trust me."

his back is towards you, filling a glass with water from the filtered water faucet. he hunches at your baffled tone, your voice all soft and downcast.

he wants to scream because it's so easy to just come out and tell you what he does. you didn't say anything at the restaurant, but maybe you'd put two and two together when he finally told you truth, remembering a thumbnail from the porn site of your choosing. he wasn't ashamed---nowhere near that. he'd been in the industry almost a decade, moving past the internalized and societally-imposed scrutiny he felt for his career. it was other people that were ashamed, other people that turned their nose up at him because of what they assumed he was; sleazy, devious, a player. he'd had so many connections blow over because of it, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to handle that happening with you.

you just stare at his back, watching it rise and fall with every laboured breath he takes. what was so bad about what he did that he couldn’t just tell you? he was obviously good at whatever it was, and you wondered if it was a front for something. maybe he disarmed you with his nice guy act, and he lured you here to kill you an—-

the clink of glass on glass brings you back to reality. mike is beside you again, staring blankly ahead while he wrings his hands.

“i’m a pornstar,” he utters plainly. he squeezes his eyes shut, expecting you to make a noise of disgust or get up and leave, but you don’t.

he opens one eye, and then both. you’re staring at him with no concrete expression, lips pursed. he closes his eyes again, counting in his head before opening them once more.

you’re still there, and it almost makes him cry.

“that checks out,” you muse. you’re fairly non reactive, but not because his admission freaks you out. you’re thinking back to the awards, the sheer amount of them in that case, and how good he really must be at what he does. “why didn’t you want to tell me?”

he runs a hand through his hair, melting into his couch with boyish reserve. his eyes are a mixed bag, bouncing between relief and despair. “people run every time i tell them. lots of them act like i just told them i killed their childhood pet and it's just so...disheartening, y'know?

"i just don't get it because it's just like any other job. you work, fucking hard, because you want to perform at your best, just like anyone else. the stigma around it never goes away, no matter how hard you try to convince people. they think you get around outside of it, having sex every second of every day, or that you're gonna mess around with your coworkers and give them something. it's like the trust level is in hell before you're even able to prove yourself." you scoot closer to mike without a word and place your hands over his. his rings are cold against your palm.

it's a gentle gesture. the airy smile you give pacifies him and he swears he's never felt anything like what he feels now.

"i'm not here to judge you, mike. i never will. sex work is a completely valid career, just like anything else. i'm sorry about all those shitty people who made assumptions about you."

"no need to apologize," he whispers, adjusting his hands so that they cradle yours now. you tilt your head down bashfully, lashes fluttering. "all those times led me here."

you two chat for a long while. mike tells you all about the production company he works for, how he got into the business, what his work schedule's like, the community of other stars that he works with, his stage name. you can tell he's passionate about it, lost in his rambles and talking with his hands. certain words segue your convo into other topics, like books and food and pop culture. you two have a lot more than coffee in common.

"i was surprised you didn't recognize me, honestly. not in a douchey way, but just because everyone does. it's usually the first thing they come up to me with." you could only imagine, being approached with "i've come to all of your work" in the condiment aisle at the grocery store.

"i don't watch professional porn really. too staged for me."

"i get that. i think you'd like our content. we really found a good balance between professional quality and ethical, genuine, safe fun."

you try to stay nonchalant, not wanting to betray the fact that you're itching to watch something of his work. "that's really nice. i bet you have quite the catalog."

"almost ten years worth so, yeah, i'd say," he chuckles, bringing his bottom lip between his teeth. "enough about me though. what do you do for work?"

"nothing as exciting and well-paying as porn. i type letters and numbers into a computer in a cubicle. it barely pays the bills, but i've worked in too many customer service jobs to ever go back." mike agrees. you're about to say something else when you're interrupted by a yawn, unhinging your jaw like an animal. you quickly cover your mouth, muttering, "jeez. sorry." you didn't realize it, but you were tired, exhausted from the night you had.

"it's okay, it is pretty late." he checks the time on his phone and turns it to you. 2:23 am. had you two really been talking on this couch for 3 hours? "i can show you to the guest room if you're tired. i have a shoot tomorrow anyway so i should get to bed too."

"sure," you whisper, grabbing his hand when he extends it to you. he pulls you to your feet like you weigh nothing at all, and you tail behind him like a lovesick puppy.

you're feeling that tingly ball of warmth in your stomach, the one you've felt with every person you thought you'd marry. you usually indulge in it, but with mike, it scares you. why do you feel like this after one night with a man you barely even know?

it's rash and inappropriate, you decide, and you're still convincing yourself as you slide under the black satin sheets and duvet on mike's king sized guest bed. you recline on the satin-covered pillows, sinking into the memory foam. it's a nice departure from your noisy childhood mattress back at home.

"do you have work tomorrow?" you shake your head, and mike claps his hands together with a cheer.

"yay. i'll be leaving around 8 or so, but feel free to sleep in and hang around as long as you want. the remote for the blinds is right there, i'll put a toothbrush out for you, and there's all kinds of food in the kitchen. help yourself. just let me know when you're leaving so i can lock the door."

your eyes squint. "you're gonna lock the door after i leave?"

mike nods, smiling excitedly and geekily diving into his rationale. "mhm, i have a smart lock. i can do it from my phone."

you're so tired that the words just foolishly tumble out of your mouth. "you must have great dick."

mike lets out a laugh that's a blend of flattered, nervous, and amused and you're both red-cheeked and flustered. "i am so fucking sorry, i, uh..y--" you stammer over all of your words, finally able to wrench out, "a smart lock just sounds expensive."

mike stares you down with fascination, backing towards the door. "watch the videos and find out for yourself, yeah?" he winks at you, and you gulp so loudly you're sure he hears. "goodnight, y/n. sleep well.”

"you too,” you croak.

you're out like a light once he leaves, but not before telling yourself to put up a new sticky note at home: “watch mike's porn."

you awake what feels like days later, refreshed and made anew. you click on the remote for the curtains, and they rise slowly, flooding the room with rich early afternoon sun. the clock on the nightstand reads 12:38 pm.

you hop to your feet and make your way to the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face before stalking to the living room. it's filled with light, and you think about how you'd probably never be depressed living in a place like this.

a box, red and moderately sized, sits upon the kitchen counter. you think you should ignore it, but as you get closer, you see a paper with your name scrawled across it. you like your name in mike's voice and handwriting.

you pull up the lid and inside is your dress from last night with the tag missing, two fat wads of hundred dollar bills, and another note that reads, “you deserve to feel beautiful and pay your rent <3 call this number when you're ready to go home. -m”.

in this moment, you're 100% positive that you're falling in love.

wow wow wow wow. they are so fucking CUTE! i love themmmmmmm <3 hopefully this tides y'all over for a bit because i need to outline the rest of their story, and i wanna work on some other stories for a little bit 💜 more parts are definitely coming, have no fear!

i'd also like to say that while i use y/n in my stories, reader is typically a character that i'm inventing. using your own name and likeness while you read is totally fine, of course! i just use y/n as a placeholder name for my reader character bc i don't feel like coming up with character names all the time <3 sorry if that doesn't make sense 💔

i hope you all enjoyed! happy reading my seedlings 🌱💜

faire's seedlings ✿

@leahdhopkins4321-@pyr0-kai-@angstywhore-@sunazroo-@nyxthoughtsss-@mirophobic-@fayethor-@marixsimps-@regretfulme-@ithinkitszeph-@707xn-@cattt777-@violetta-ximena-@amnesia33-@topnerd03-@fastnights-@laprvphette-@savage-aespa-@mfdxz

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #mike schmidt fluff #fnaf #fnaf movie #fnaf fic #faire is writing stuff #faire's (pornstar) mike schmidt <3 #they are so fucking cute #like omg #i get the feels from them and they're my characters #rooting for them fr #josh hutcherson

[softlyspector]

Could I request another addition to the Significant verse? Maybe the reader gets to meet more Mandos, and Din gets to introduce her to them as his riduur? Anyway, whether you write this or not, you're amazing and I love you ❤️

You meet the covert + Din Djarin x gn!reader

a/n: This is apart of the significant-verse! it can be read on its own, din and reader are married.

"Are you sure this is wise?" You ask.

Your palms are sweating, a nervous itching crawling along the inside of your skin. "I'm not sure-," you continue before the Mandalorian can answer you.

Din cups his hands around your shoulders in the hull of the Crest. "Yes," he says, his voice firm but not unkind. "You are apart of my clan. It means you are apart of the tribe. If anything happened to me, it would be good for you-,"

"Din Djarin, don't you dare-,"

"It would be good for you to know them," he speaks over you. "They would help you anyway, but this is still important. You should know them and where the covet is."

You suck in a long breath and then reach up to touch the edge of the helm, before asking the question you haven't dared voice yet. "Din, will they see me as a part of the tribe?"

He straightens, shoulders hooking back with irritation that mirrors in the way he jerks his head to the side.

"I just mean, I am not a warrior." You shake your head, "What can I mean to a group of people like that?"

Din slides his hands down your arms. "You are stronger than you give yourself credit for, riduur." He steps away from you and lifts Grogu into his floating pod. "You are more Mandalorian than you realize."

You suspect Din would think that no matter what you were. He's only slightly blinded by his love of you and the child.

He starts out of the ship when the ramp lowers, leaving you wondering at his words. You follow and lie your hand against his bicep like you always do with you walk together, the child's pod floating along next to you.

Din nods at you when you join him but you bite your lip. "What if they don't approve of me?"

"They won't approve or disapprove. You are already my riduur."

"But Din, they might not like me. They might think me a bad match. As much as you believe I have the attributes of a Mandalorian I am not one."

He makes a noise of protest, something like a scoff. "There is no rule against marrying outside our people. They will like you. But it's not about like or dislike."

"What's it about then?" You ask as he navigates the streets of Nevarro's city.

"How you fit with the tribe. If you are worthy."

Din doesn't seem to realize that that sentiment is not a comfort to you.

When he doesn't continue, you release his bicep to hug your arms around your middle. "I-,"

"Riduur," he says, capturing your attention. "We are not asking for approval," he repeats. "I already know you are worthy." He holds your gaze for a long minute through the visor before you nod and continue on.

Eventually, you're led to a well hidden stairwell. It's dark, but you assume Din can still see. You can't, and nearly trip, your heart in your mouth, until Din seems to remember you're not outfitted with a helmet and need help.

It makes you feel stupid. You can even navigate the stairs.

Before you met Din, you floated around the galaxy on your own. You never thought you'd have to meet someone's family, let alone a tribe. You always thought you'd be on your own, not apart of something so large.

Luckily the corridor you emerge into is lit, albeit lowly. You keep your hand curled in the crook of Din's elbow as he leads you forward.

Mandalorians line the corridor, nodding at Din and then you as you pass by. You can feel their eyes following you curiously.

You aren't sure where he's leading you, or who you're going to meet. None of them make a noise as you pass.

Eventually you take a turn into a room, where a female Mandalorian stands hammering a bit of what you assume is beskar into shape.

"Din Djarin," she says. "You have returned."

You reach out and lie a hand against the child's floating pod to steady yourself.

All the blood in your body seems to pool down your legs. Nerves form a hard pit in your belly as you struggle to remember to breathe through your anxiety.

You don't know why you're so nervous. Din has promised this won't change anything, that you aren't asking for approval.

But that doesn't make it easy to believe.

She turns from the forge and takes the three of you in.

"Yes," Din replies. He doesn't say anything else for a moment, and you aren't sure if that's your cue to introduce yourself.

You aren't sure if you're meant to speak at all, and you wish that Din would have taken more time to explain to you what was expected of you, or what to expect at all.

Just as your skin begins to prickle uncomfortably, Din speaks again, this time in Mando'a.

"We have married," he says simply, and then introduces you by name. The armorer circles the forge, stepping closer to the three of you.

"Welcome," she says in Basic.

"Ni jorhaa'ir Mando'a," you say, gripping tighter to the edge of Grogu's pod. "Thank you for welcoming me."

She manages to look surprised, and you fight the smile that threatens the edge of you mouth. The Mandalorians, for all their armor, were expressive in their own ways. "Din Djarin has taught you our language?"

"It's all we speak between ourselves," you answer.

She nods at you and then peers down at Grogu. "You are welcome here." She says your name, and then adds, "Of Clan Djarin."

It makes you warm to hear, a low buzz vibrating beneath your skin. "Thank you."

Din puts a hand against you elbow and when you look into the visor, he nods at you. He pulls away from you, waving an arm so the pod floats to his side and with him as he steps out of the room.

The armorer returns to the forge. "You and Din Djarin spoke the marriage vows?"

"Yes," you answer, taking a seat in front of the forge when she returns to it. "Many months ago now."

"He courted you."

She isn't asking, but you answer anyways. "Yes, although I didn't know. I wasn't familiar with the Mandalorian custom. He gifted me a blade."

The armor continues her work, and you wait quietly, your nerves settling.

It's oddly peaceful there, though you still feel spikes of worry about meeting the other Mandalorians.

"Do you intend to walk the ways of Mandalore?"

The question catches you off guard. You've briefly talked about it with Din, who had assured you there was no need, not if you didn't want to.

"It would be dishonorable," he'd said that day. "If it was not done in true belief."

You struggle with it sometimes. But simply taking the oath wouldn't be enough, you would never measure up to people who had believed and trained in something their entire lives. You don't want to cover your face, not really, and you fear you aren't strong enough to ever measure up to what a warrior should be.

But part of you worries too, that you disappoint Din by not walking the way of Mandalore. But he was right, to take the oath in bad faith would be unforgivable.

You don't get the sense he's very concerned about it, or that it bothers him at all.

Still, you worry.

"I'm not sure yet," you answer when the armorer glances up at your silence. "But I intend to honor my husband, and my clan, as he honors us and his creed."

There's another long, considering silence. "And if that meant covering your face and following the creed, would you?"

The answer is simple, if it meant holding onto your little family. "Yes," you answer without hesitation.

Eventually she nods, and then says simply, "This is honorable. Din Djarin waits for you. Your clan is welcome."

You nod and stand, still feeling a bit shaky. "Thank you," you feel the need to say again before you turn and duck out of the room.

Din is waiting for you, his hand capturing yours the second you emerge into the hall, nearly barreling by him in your haste.

Something about the way he stands, the tilt of his head, tells you he heard what you said. "Riduur'ika," he murmurs, his voice so low and gentle the modulator doesn't even pick up on the sound of his voice.

You shake your head at him, "It's nothing. It was decided a long time ago."

Din doesn't look away from you for a long time, and you wonder what he sees when he looks at you. He nods and dips his head to touch the crown of the helm against your brow.

He clasps your hand in his and gestures down the empty corridor when he pulls away. "There are others I want you to meet. The rest of the covert."

"Okay," you pat his gloved fingers and then stroke your hand over the child's ear. Grogu coos, his head tilting up into your hand. "I think I've gained approval."

He nudges you down the hall. "Not approval. You've shown your place is already earned."

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mandalorian x reader #significant verse

[blitzyn]

unintended effect

dottore x m!reader

request : none

Synopsis: Meeting a new stranger at your shrine didn't go as well as you had expected it to.

cw -> non-con, blood and spit as lube, anal sex, public sex, sadist dottore, kitsune reader, crying, tail pulling, face slapping, non-con drug use, choking, yall get caught but dottore doesnt care lol, brief ear pulling, not proofread

wc -> 3.6k

a/n -> i need him so bad omg. anyways super sorry if its shit. spoilers for the end of the aranara quest!

"It's not often I get new visitors."

Dottore instinctively peered up to face the voice, spotting a figure cloaked within the shadows the night offered. He could faintly see the way they curled atop the statue he stood in front of.

"I'm not visiting." He spoke with unhidden confidence.

"So what brings you here, then?" They questioned. Truth be told, finding the shrine was an accident. Although he read about them, he was far too busy with Scaramouche's ascension to "godhood". But he'd amuse you for a while longer.

“I’m simply taking a stroll,” he answered, placing his hands behind his back.

“It is quite the night for a walk, isn’t it?” He could faintly see something swish within the air. "Our village is well known for its night."

That was strange. He would have thought it would be a tourist hotspot for the sunset or sunrise - not the night. There wasn't anything noteworthy that he could see.

"Not here, of course." He could hear the amusement in your voice when you saw him slightly tilt his head in confusion. "I haven’t done anything praiseworthy yet.”

He quietly watched as you jumped down the statue, finally able to see your features. He was a bit surprised to see that you were not a human and had fox attributes. Your five tails swayed behind you, so he was able to surmise that you were around five-hundred years old. He heard about kitsunes before, though the only one currently well-known was the Head Shrine Maiden: Yae Miko in Inazuma.

He must admit, your species mildly fascinated him for a time, although the interest very quickly died out throughout his time in the Akademiya. Now that one was standing before him, that interest may have been rekindled.

"I am the guardian of the village," you spoke, ever graceful in your movements. Though, he did wonder what exactly what you were guarding against. As far as he knew, his agents informed him of the famed Traveler who adventured with the Aranara and defeated something called the “Marana Avatar '' which was the source of all Withering Zones. The only formidable enemies he saw on his journey here were the Fungi that mindlessly hopped around.

“It’s not the most interesting thing in the world, I admit,” you turned around to collect the offerings gathered within the foot of the shrine. “Not much to protect.”

You quietly laughed to yourself. “My mother would have my head if she ever heard me say that.”

“How so?” he questioned, watching as you organized a few things.

“She passed away during the Cataclysm. This village was her pride and found joy in defending it. I was but a kit at the time, so she was mostly on her own while she fought.” You sighed, though you didn’t appear the least bit upset.

It wasn’t a very thrilling tale, but he was able to surmise that you thought so, too.

“Do you enjoy guarding the village against rogue mushrooms?” The way he spoke almost made it seem as if he were genuinely asking, but the small, condescending smile that adorned his face told you that he was teasing your profession.

You laughed. “Oh, Gods’ no. I would very much rather be somewhere else right now.”

“Then why haven’t you left? I don’t see any benefits in staying,” he said. “I’m confident your villagers will be able to defend themselves if the Fungi wander around.”

“The only thing keeping me anchored here are the children that offer me some of their candy every so often,” you explained, motioning to the small basket in your hands. “They look up to me.”

“They want to become avid Fungi hunters when they’re older?” He was beginning to enjoy speaking with you, even if there wasn’t much to talk about. Maybe it’s natural Kitsune charm? 

You barked out yet another laugh. “I don’t see why, either. But, hey, free candy.”

Dottore uncovered an opportunity in your words. Various reports submitted to him reveal that children were far more likely to see the Aranara if they stumbled upon a dangerous situation. To ordinary humans, the Fungi posed a threat even to adults (as pathetic as that was), so if he managed to persuade you into leaving, one of the children could maybe encounter one of the fairies. But he was not opposed to taking you away by force, either. He would not let this chance slip by him - not after the majority of his agents stationed in Sumeru failed their mission.

“But other than that, what’s really stopping you?” Pride? A sense of responsibility? “It seems you’re not needed here.”

“Harsh.” You knew he was just saying it as it was. “Realistically? Mora. Ideally? The children.”

He hummed. “I am capable of providing you with sufficient housing and a generous amount of money.”

Your ears visibly perked up at his proposal. “But I do ask that you work for me in return.”

You looked off to the side, seemingly in thought before you looked back at him. “I’m no mercenary.”

“Maybe not, but don’t you crave a change of pace? To finally bask in what the rest of the world has to offer?” You were seriously tempted to accept his suggestion, but the chains of doubt wrapped around your wrists and pulled you back down to reality. You didn’t know if he was lying or not. While you were able to defend yourself just fine if anything were to go wrong, you preferred the safer option of just not letting it happen.

You shook your head in response. “That would be amazing, but I’ll have to decline your offer.”

He was confused. You complain, but you decide to stay? Where was the logic behind your words? Were you tied down by your mother’s legacy, perhaps? Maybe there was something else besides the weak reasons you so confidently spoke of.

A chill ran down your spine as he studied you. You were unable to see the majority of his face with his mask covering the top half of it, but it doesn’t take a genius to tell that he was unhappy with your answer.

While he wasn’t satisfied, he wasn’t left at a loss, either.

“Very well, then,” he said after a time. You smiled at his understanding, before turning on your heels to begin your trek towards the village. He watched your back for a moment before he felt his fingers slightly twitch. He managed to come up with a plan as soon as you declined; inject you with a type of drug that would make you pass out and tie you up in one of his laboratories. Simple, but effective.

He walked in your direction as his hand reached into one of his pockets to grab a syringe already full of the drug. He discreetly uncapped it before lunging towards you to tug your head forward and force the needle into the back of your neck. It was done before you could be given time to really process what just happened, but the sharp sting kept you grounded. You looked back in surprise and pressed onto the injection site in reflex while backing away from the man.

“What did you do?” Your voice was weak in shock, a pit of fear beginning to form within your chest. You heard the rustling of his clothes steadily grow louder, but you simply chalked it up as him on his way back to wherever he came from. He amusedly observed your ears flattening alongside the back of your head and how two of your tails wrapped around your legs while the others curled in a way that reminded him of a fearfully submissive dog.

“I gave you a dose of a simple knock-out drug,” he explained, leisurely striding closer to you. “It was originally for one of those forest fairies, if I ever got the chance to find one. They’re quite difficult to come across so I do hope using it on you is worth my time.”

He hummed and looked away in thought. He had heard they were relatively easy to befriend as long as you helped them out a little, so he hoped one didn’t show up right at this moment. Once he transported you to a well-hidden spot, he could create another drug and use it on a fairy. But he was slightly taken aback when he realized that you were still standing. It should’ve affected you by now.

It clearly had some type of effect on you, judging by the flushed look on your face. You were panting and your legs were trembling, it was a fight in and of itself just trying to keep yourself from falling over. There was a raging inferno within your body, and you felt like you were overheating. An arousing sensation arose in your abdomen. You quickly realized that this was no knock-out drug. At least not to you.

Dottore curiously moved so that he was face-to-face with you. He looked at the syringe in his hand to reconfirm the content that was once in it. He knew there was nothing wrong with it (after all, what use would having an aphrodisiac be?), so it was interesting to see the difference compared to his expected result and the current outcome. Your hands futilely tried to tug down your shirt now that he could see everything clearly since he was so close up, but you accidentally pressed them onto your aching cock, forcing a moan from your lips.

“Hm. This wasn’t what I expected.” He placed a hand on his chin as he began to circle you, inspecting your body. You were the one with the features of a predator, although you certainly felt like prey under his watchful gaze. You continued to display fear, as shown by your ears and tucked tails even though you so desperately tried to hide the lust that effortlessly overpowered your senses. He enjoyed seeing you this way.

He suddenly kicked your knees out from under you, forcing you to kneel as a pained expression briefly overcame your face. You had to hold back a groan when his hand found its way into your hair, fingers tightly curling around the strands to tug you around. He made you look up at him as he dug the sole of his foot onto your sensitive dick. You choked on a moan and ground your nails into his leg, weakly trying to pull him off of you.

“Aren’t you a pathetic little thing?” He pushed his foot harder, relishing in the noises you tried hard to keep from releasing. Shame squeezed your chest, making it difficult to breathe. But your mind was caught in a messy haze of arousal, confusion, anger, and fear. Each of their components only coerced you further into a stupified state, and you soon took the appearance of a babbling slut. You were fleetingly aware of the mortification when you began rutting your hips into the hard surface of his boot – just like the mutt in heat you were – but you’d be lying greatly if you said it didn’t feel relieving.

Your desperation only served to arouse Dottore as he felt his cock harden in his pants. He smiled, memorizing how quickly you were reduced into nothing but teary-eyed and stupid. Lightly palming himself, he thought of all the time he had left to spare. He might as well use some of it now.

You stifled a sob when he removed his foot, grunting when he kicked you onto your back. You were a bit disoriented due to the sudden change in positions, but as the fresh air of the night caressed the burning skin of your legs, an alarm rang through your head. It took you a moment to realize what he was about to do. Out of reflex, you attempted to sit up to try and stop him before he harshly pushed you back down from your chest.

“Fighting it will only make it worse,” he said, lining his cockhead against your asshole after spitting on it. “Relax, will you?”

“Wha–No…No..!”

You raised one of your feet in a last ditch effort to kick him away, but he simply held onto the underside of your knee and hiked it up on his shoulder. You squirmed futilely as he did the same to the other one, keeping you in place with a mating press. Now that he was finally towering over you, he used most of his body weight to force his cock deep into your hole.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for the pure agony that came with it. With his hands occupied with pinning your arms down, he had the audacity to place his lips over yours to silence your scream. You struggled to free yourself from his grasp, though the tense of your body made you tighten around him. He let out a satisfied, shuddering sigh.

It felt like he tore you apart, a burning sensation that originated from your hole reverberated throughout your body, pulsing in rhythmic waves. You hiccuped pathetically as he pulled off of you, taking away some of the strain in your legs. He noticed that the slide out was smoother than he expected, peering down to where the two of you connected. His cock throbbed fervently when he noticed that it was coated in your blood.

You bit your lip hard when he leisurely thrusted back into you. Tears rolled off of the sides of your face as you turned away from him.

A sensation akin to electricity traveled up and down his spine. “Oh, don’t cry yet. We’ve only just begun.”

He finally began his pace, irritating whatever he tore, and using you however he liked. The pain was dizzying. He refused to allow you a moment of respite as he wallowed within your agonized whimpers and grunts, thrusting hard enough to fuck the air out of your lungs. Your lower half was on fire from the tearing, the muscle strain, and the sting when his pelvis slammed against your ass. You didn’t know if you were going to be able to walk after this.

You were terrified to feel the familiar feeling of lust pooling in your gut, mixing in with the burn in your asshole. Though the drug was still hard at work, amplifying your arousal far more than you would’ve liked. Your cock weeped precum, to which Dottore gathered on his fingertips after releasing one of your numb arms.

“Look at how much you want this.” His hand was shaky on account of his relentless thrusts, but despite that, you were given a clear view of your shame. “Perhaps you were made to be my whore instead, hm?”

He groaned. “Instead of staying here for something so… ngh – insignificant. You’ll be much better off as my cum-dumpster ready to serve me at a minute’s notice. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

You shook your head, sobbing slurred ‘no’s’ and pleading for something, anything, just not that. He almost couldn’t believe how intensely he’s getting off to such a sight, and he decided, at that moment, that you were going to be his new pet. His good little dog.

He suddenly leaned backwards a bit, avoiding the sloppy attack you made.

Though, he was going to have to train you first.

You were aiming for his neck, so it’s only fair he gets to return the favor, right?

Your eyes widened when you felt his hand wrap around your throat, holding you so tightly your head began to ring almost instantly. You felt like you were going to pass out. You could feel your eyes roll back under your eyelids as drool escaped the corners of your mouth. Everything began to sound muffled when you were suddenly forced back into reality.

Agony shot through your face as your head was abruptly tossed to the side. He had slapped you. Fresh tears cascaded down your cheeks, trying hard to process everything that you were feeling. Pain, pleasure, pain, pleasure… which was it?

You unknowingly shivered when Dottore pulled out of you, but you knew better than to assume he was finished with you. He flipped you onto your stomach, a small smirk present when you didn’t put up a fight. You were far too disoriented to do so. A wince crossed your face when the cold concrete floor touched your cock, although you made no move to adjust yourself.

He placed you on your hands and knees, manipulating your body so easily you could’ve been mistaken for a fuck doll. He pushed the tip of his dick inside your throbbing hole before separating your tails in half, taking three in one hand and two in the other. Your fur may have been thick, but it was nothing a (very) tight squeeze couldn’t handle. Once he found his grip, he yanked you backward as he thrusted forward, a loud slap echoing throughout the forest. The tip of his cock pressed against your prostate, and you couldn’t help but let out your loudest moan of the night.

His pace was as punishing as before, fucking you hard enough to make your ass burn. You tried your hardest to quiet your moans with a bite of your lip and a cover of your hand, but not even that was enough to silence your noises. The ache in your tails prompted you to fuck yourself back on his cock. He let out a small grin, though he decided against commenting on it when he noticed something moving in his peripheral.

It was only a moment later when your ears shot up and swiveled in the figure’s direction, eyes widening when you saw who it was. “G-Go… ah – go home..!”

“Oh, don’t make them leave now, they’ve only just arrived.” You barely registered the firm hand on your thigh. “Let’s give them a show.”

Your back was suddenly pressed up against his chest as the thigh he was holding was held up high enough for the person to see. The new angle allowed him to target your prostate with more accuracy, fanning the uncontrollable flame in your abdomen. You shook your head – to Dottore or the person, not even you were sure of. You weakly held onto his wrist when he reached around your body to jerk you off, digging your nails into his glove.

You tried your hardest to stop yourself from orgasming, you really did, but it persisted twice as intense until you were no longer able to hold it. Your eyes rolled back in ecstasy as cum spurt out of your cock, back arching against him. You could’ve sworn you blacked out for a second. You tightened even further around him as he finally stilled, feeling uncomfortably warm as he came inside you with a deep groan. He held your thigh so tightly you were sure you’d have bruises.

You looked back over to the spot the person was at, but was relieved to know that they no longer stood there. The leg keeping you up burned in exhaustion from holding nearly all of your weight. You trembled due to your overwhelming emotions; shame, arousal, fear, anger, confusion, exhaustion.

You stared ahead, unmoving as he pulled out of you. You rested on your folded legs, head throbbing painfully. You winced when he yanked you to him by your hair, keeping you on your knees as you faced his softening cock.

“Good pets know to clean up their messes,” he said, relaxing his grip on you, but refusing to move his hand elsewhere. You swallowed nervously before reluctantly holding onto the base to place him in your mouth. “Though, bite me, and I’ll do more than just simply tearing out your teeth.”

You nodded. He smiled to himself. Good, he was getting somewhere with you.

An urge to hide away formed in your mind, but you willed it away with the fact that he wasn’t going to let you go. Not unless some miracle saved you. You ran your tongue over his cock, licking away the remnants of his cum and your blood. The salty, metallic taste raised goosebumps all over your body, and you had to stop yourself from throwing up.

Though, just as you got to the head, he suddenly grabbed you by the ears and pulled. You choked and gagged, completely caught off guard. He kept you there, watching amusedly as you drooled and sputtered over his dick. It wasn’t until he could feel your grip on his legs weakening did he allow you to push yourself off of him, coughing hard.

He composed himself while you had your fit, crossing his arms expectantly when you finally caught your breath.

“Hurry and fix your clothes. We’ll head towards the area I’m temporarily staying at where you’ll wait until the ship to Snezhnaya arrives.” You wiped your teary eyes and put the bottom half of your clothes back on. Your legs trembled as you got up, only able to take a few weak steps forward before you fell to your knees.

He sighed and swiftly made his way over to you, grabbing you by the arm to carry you bridle style. Everything hurt now that the entire ordeal was over (at the moment), and you watched with saddened eyes as the statue gradually shrunk the farther away you went. You blinked hard. You didn’t want to fall asleep in his arms, but the feeling was far too strong for you to resist. With a heavy heart, you closed your eyes and let your slumber take you.

cross posted on ao3

#il dottore #genshin impact #male reader insert #x male reader #male reader smut #dottore x male reader #dottore x reader #reader #reader insert #dottore x reader smut #reader smut #genshin impact smut #cw noncon #fox reader #sub reader #bottom reader

[fluentmoviequoter]

You're All Mine

Summary: Dalton makes a new friend who doesn't mind his shyness. Essentially, it's "introverts don't make friends, they get adopted by extroverts," but Dalton is the introvert and you, reader, are the extrovert. 1.5k+ words

Requested: Yes - "innocent shy dalton x outgoing reader"

Warnings: fluff, implication of third party alcohol consumption, brief mention of making out... I think that's all

A/N: I am in absolutely no way outgoing or extroverted so I based the reader's outgoing attributes on various characters. I hope I did the request justice and feel free to let me know what you think! Enjoy :)

“Whoa, those are amazing! Did you do all of them?”

Dalton turns quickly at the sound of an unfamiliar voice inside his dorm room.

“Sorry.” You smile and apologize once you see the startled look on his face. “I was walking down the hall and your door was open, so I saw your art.” You gesture toward all the paintings and drawings hanging over his bed. “They’re really good.”

“Thanks,” he says quietly.

“Where are my manners?” You ask rhetorically before introducing yourself and sticking your hand out for Dalton to take.

He gently shakes your hand - only once - before taking his hand back and saying his name.

“Nice to meet you, Dalton. See you around,” you promise before walking down the hallway.

Dalton sighs and sits back down, trying to remember what he was doing before you came in.

Somehow, Dalton ended up at a frat party. Internally, he wants to curse his temporary roommate Chris for bringing him, but he is too busy trying to make himself as small and invisible as possible. Once through the front door, Dalton hopes the crowd will keep him hidden. As Chris drags him through the crowd, he hears a familiar voice.

“No, it’s no problem, swear! I’ll be right back!” You say somewhere behind him.

Were you that sweet to him? he wonders. He had been caught off guard when you just appeared earlier.

“I am so sorry,” you say as you bump into Chris, gently grabbing her shoulder to right her. “Dalton!” You squeal, throwing your arms around his neck in a tight hug.

Dalton’s eyes widen, and his facial expression is pure fear as he looks at Chris over your shoulder. She makes a hugging motion and points at you, which leads him to slowly wrap his arms around your waist.

“I did not think I’d see you here. I wasn’t planning on coming either - you know how frat guys are - but my roommate didn’t want to come alone, so,” you trail off and shrug as you pull back, a smile that seems much too genuine for the setting on your face.

“I know the feeling,” Dalton grumbles under his breath.

“Do you want anything? I’m going to grab some of my friends a drink.” You look between Chris and Dalton as they politely decline. “Then I guess I’ll see you later! Great seeing you, Dalton.”

Dalton watches as you expertly move through the crowd and wonders if you purposefully bumped into Chris, considering you haven’t come close to anyone else. He’s snapped out of his thoughts by Chris grabbing his forearm.

“Daydream later, Dolphin, we have frat boy belongings to go through,” she says as she drags him to the stairs.

Dalton looks around the bedroom with his hand in his pockets while Chris opens drawers and rifles around on the desktop. Chris hears someone coming and considers kissing Dalton for a distraction, then thinks again and decides the chances of it being his first kiss are too high, and she doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

“Oh.” You stop as you realize someone is occupying the room. When you see who, you wonder if you wrongly evaluated Dalton; maybe he isn’t as shy and innocent as he seems. “I’ll - uh - give you two some privacy.”

Once the door is closed, Dalton looks at Chris with furrowed brows and downturned lips. “Privacy? Why?”

“How do you even know her, Dalton?” Chris asks with a laugh. “Chase her down and try to talk to her. For me?”

Dalton seems to contemplate the request before walking out of the room.

“Go get her, tiger - I mean Dolphin!” Chris yells down the hall behind him.

You’re on the front porch with a small group of people when Dalton finally finds you. Unsure of how to approach, he stands to the side and looks in your general direction, waiting for you to notice him. When you finally look away from the person talking, you see Dalton and smile, gesturing with your hand for him to come over. He shakes his head, a movement so small you only know it happened because his hair moves. You smile and say something to the girl beside you before setting your cup down and walking to him.

“Enjoying the party?” You ask.

“Why-“ Dalton clears his throat and starts over, “Whatever you think was happening upstairs wasn’t. Chris was just digging through his stuff.”

Your smile grows at his rushed explanation. “Oh, ok. If anyone deserves to have their personal belongings messed with, it’s Nick.”

Dalton nods, his hands nervously tucking in and out of his pockets.

“Do you want to get out of here?” you offer. “These things only get crazier from here.”

“And go where?”

“Anywhere you want. You can go home, we can go get milkshakes, make out under a tree,” you add the last one nonchalantly for the entertaining reaction you anticipate Dalton will give.

Dalton nods with your first two suggestions, then nearly chokes on air with the last one. You instantly feel bad, placing a hand on his arm as you apologize and explain it was a joke.

“It’s fine,” Dalton says, a small smile forming. “Milkshakes sound good. If you meant it?”

“I always mean it when I bring up milkshakes. Let’s go; my treat.”

You grab Dalton’s hand and interlace your fingers without thinking, not noticing how he stares at your hands as he walks beside you.

“What’s your milkshake poison?” You ask as you join Dalton in the booth, sliding in beside him rather than across from him.

He shrugs as he glances at you.

“I like chocolate,” you explain, “I know it’s basic, but is chocolate ever the wrong answer?”

“I like chocolate,” Dalton agrees.

“One or two?” Dalton looks confused, so you add, “Milkshakes. Do you want to share one or get two?”

“Oh. Um, we can share. I guess. If it’s ok with you.”

“Dalton, two things you should know as my new best friend, I only share food with my friends, and I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it.”

“Best friend?”

“Oh, yeah, you’re all mine now.”

The smile you send him makes Dalton think maybe that isn’t so bad. He watches you greet the waitress and ask how her day is going, talking to her about her law school classes before ordering one chocolate milkshake with two straws. He wonders how someone that goes to frat parties with no problem can be so kind. He also wonders how he is lucky enough to be ‘all yours.’

“How are your classes so far? I mean, I’m not convinced you need art classes based on what I saw in your dorm, but are you enjoying them?” You ask as you wait for the milkshake.

“They’re good. Interesting. My teacher’s a little… out there, I guess.”

“Who isn’t?” You ask with a laugh.

He smiles and asks which school you’re attending, hanging on your every word as you answer.

“One chocolate milkshake, two straws. Can I get anything else for you two?” The waitress asks as she sets the milkshake between you and Dalton.

You glance at him, and he shakes his head, so you respond, “No, we’re good. Thank you so much, and good luck on your BAR exam!”

You turn to Dalton and gesture to the milkshake, “After you.”

“You paid for it,” Dalton argues.

You smile at his sudden boldness before stating, “Which means I get to decide. You try it first.”

Dalton concedes and takes a sip, eyes widening at the intense chocolate flavor.

“Whoa.”

“I know, right?” You gush. “I come here every chance I get. They put espresso beans in to amplify the chocolate flavor; it’s my favorite milkshake in the whole world.”

“Which dorm do you live in?” You ask as you exit the diner with your hand in Dalton's, mentally creating a route to both of your dorms. “Yours is on the way to mine, so I can drop you off.”

“My dad would kill me if I didn’t walk you home,” Dalton states.

“Really?” You giggle as you wrap your free hand around his forearm, not noticing the way his breath catches at your touch.

“Probably not, but it’s still the gentlemanly thing to do,” Dalton says after a moment.

“Well, you have class in the morning, so I relieve you of your gentleman duties. But only for tonight.”

You walk in a comfortable silence, insisting on accompanying Dalton to his dorm room door once you arrive.

“This was fun, Dalton. We should do it again.”

Dalton nods and misses the warmth of your hand as you take it back.

“Maybe we’ll skip the frat party next time.”

“That would be nice.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Dalton,” you say, wrapping him in a quick hug before leaving for your dorm.

“Tomorrow?” He asks.

You turn back, the smile you’d been wearing all night widening. “Oh yeah. I meant it when I said you’re mine now. Goodnight, Dalton.”

He watches as you disappear around the corner, with no thoughts of darkness in his mind. He doesn’t even register the sound of the door opening until Chris speaks, “You, my weird Dolphin, just got adopted by an extrovert.”

Dalton looks at her and blushes as she adds, “A very pretty extrovert.”

#requests #dalton lambert #dalton lambert x reader #insidious #dalton lambert imagine #dalton lambert fluff #dalton lambert fic #insidious the red door

[anantaru]

SNEAKY DEVIL

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — being with your ex on a friday night surely was the last thing you had in mind.

— ꒰ word count ꒱ — 2.1k

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ns]fw, fem! reader, play toxic by britney spears, ex! boyfriend kuni, slight yan ?? a sprinkle, he‘s not accepting the break up, this is the part two of my kuni angst fic — ꒰ part one ꒱

"would you look at yourself."

for each aspect, when there was good, there was also evil.

yet in his taunting eyes, it seemed as if there was only darkness, no light or anything that would hint at the fact that scaramouche might be a good person after all.

and as for you?

the embarrassment you had felt each time you let him stumble back into your life was burning through the entirety of your skin, greedily gnawing itself onto your heart from within.

before anything, how did it come to this point in your life again?

the reason .. well, you couldn‘t explain it yourself, even if you tried.

if you haven‘t figured it out yet as on to why you keep coming back, keep opening the door for him and letting him stay, knowing full on well it‘ll only end in the same gruesome, disgusting outcome again— it's safe to say you won't ever have an answer to your questions.

not all stars shine equally bright, and you knew, that kuni in particular was never going to give you a glowing future.

"s-shut up."

a myriad of moans and low whines filled the space in between your bodies as you barked back at his usual belittling tone— that he‘d always gather around when he was especially fed up with you.

"if only your past self could see you right now." to the corners of his mouth, a smirk cradled his lips, one that was menacing and proud of himself, proud to get the person he so called loved, in such a humiliating position.

he‘s lowering his head down while roughly burying his stiff cock further into your pussy until fully sheathed, your lips ghosting over one another, "to even have the nerve to break up with me in the first place."

his face adorned with an unflinching, serious expression, suddenly groaning as you involuntarly clenched down on him, "and now you‘re letting yourself get fucked like a bitch in heat." he pauses subsequently to messily brush away the single tear that lonely spilled down your warm cheek.

"fucked by me." his ferocious, melodic voice was vibrating into the depths of your skin, anchoring your soul.

"it‘s not like that!" you panic, each of his words were sharply cutting through your heart and feelings.

with the world falling down on your shoulders, into place, who were you trying to persuade with this?

scaramouche or simply yourself?

he wiped his hair strands— which were sticking onto his forehead, back, his skin, being illuminated much paler by the faint glow of the night, enhancing and further amplifying his damned beauty— that would always keep on mesmerizing you.

"then tell me how it is, hm?" each of his arms were carefully placed next to your head, trapping you with his body. Yet however, if you didn‘t know any better, he would‘ve given the impression that he actually cared, with the way his voice slightly softened.

pseudo innocently, scaramouche had began to observe your face, as if to wait for an actual response from you.

in retrospect, it was now clear that the whole, bloody situation you found yourself in, together with this— so called relationship, was far too complicated for your own good, anyones good, that is.

you didn‘t respond to him, a little nervous, when you averted your eyes. In fact, you weren‘t quite fond of the idea to voice anything at all.

your panicked thoughts held a significant clasp on you— sceaming internally. And although you felt slight menacing terror in his voice, with a sharp cutting panic in your throat— said attributes weren't even the worst parts of the current state of your affairs.

because in reality, you somehow enjoyed this. Not the considerable amount of pain he‘d inflict on you through words, but the familiar, once loved, tenderness of him.

you‘d lie to yourself if you‘d say you didn‘t miss him at least once or twice, sometimes even fantasizing back at the times you were intimate with each other, both stroking and pleasuring your bodies throughout the whole night until the morning sun approached you through the windows, rattling your skins awake.

you do not speak, unable to do so. Scaramouche intentionally fucked himself so far up your sore cunt that you could barely hold onto the bedsheets yourself, your drenched and swollen pussy violently gushing around his girth, his eyes beaming with self satisfied pride.

"thought so." he says nonchalantly, as if trying to prove his point.

your hands fell to your sides, just the precise thrusts of him, the targeting of your surging spots insides, caused you tumble over your own moans, mewling when he claimed you, all of you.

scaramouche switched to a tight, heavy grip, rapidly shoving his stiff heavy member past your aching hole, a feral pace, back and forth, his cock head kissing the deepest ends of your sensitivity.

you can feel his hand roam through your hips, caress your shaking body and slide over your natural curves. Your erected nipples repeatedly rubbed over his hard chest, gratifying the painful ache in your breasts.

scaramouche was quick to collect one in his palm, roughly mashing the mound of flesh in combination with the relentless push of his hips, the muscles in your core quivering.

"f-fuck, you don't even want to now how much i missed that." he shamelessly admitted, "how much i dreamed about fucking you again." mumbling the affirmations straight against your pouted lips and expanding a heavy pant once your mushy cunt forcibly squeezed down on him, dashingly gyrating around his imposing girth.

it was clear as day that he'd never get fully satisfied or satiated by fucking you anymore, the time apart you had spent were a torturous living hell to scaramouche, like a racking broken record that couldn't be fixed, playing a boring, lifeless song, over and over again.

however, you weren't going to give him what he wants, never, hopelessly trembling over your own words as you spoke.

"just, f-fuck— just shut up and fuck me." that's all it took you to bring him spiraling, a little faster as he suddenly mercilessly jolted into you with the obscene squelching noises leaving nothing left to the imagination.

for a second he observed the spot in between your in sweat soiled bodies, how disgustingly wet and filthy, a complete mess, he thought to himself. You were so exposed, bare and open for him, unrestrainedly dirtying his entire length with your slick, sloppily milking his drumming cock.

"i-if that's how you want to play this game." he promptly pauses, driving his erection impossibly deep into your squelching mess and grinding down, wiggling his hips the moment he was fully settled which caused you to mewl out achingly, moaning at every new hit.

your chest rattled with a shaky breath, the control of your body slowly but surely fading away into the pits of hell, shoving down the last remnants of self control you had stored in you.

"that's right." scaramouche coos upon seeing you struggle, cupping your cheeks and gently brushing his rough thumb over your slightly pouted lips, his loins on fire as he caught a glimpse of a single tear desperately hanging on your lashes, spilling at last. "i'm the only one who can make you feel this way."

you were trying to speak, anything, just something but he shushes you, soothes you and carries on to grind down, his facial expression almost reminding of a mocking tone, breathlessly smacking through your clenching hole that was brutally clasping around his girth.

"you're cruel." you managed to whisper, "you're so cruel." a sad heave in your voice.

those words reverberated along his bones and in his blood, forcing a numerous amount of groans through his gnawed teeth, moaning with every swallow of you.

the delicious pleasure rushed through your blood and grew the fire in your cheeks. Scaramouche lowered his head to starvingly seek your mouth, roughly plastering his hungry lips on top of yours to sloppily kiss you.

you're clinging onto him as you returned his plea, teeth colliding against each other when he drew himself away, "i'm cruel because i love you." the entry of it all rendered you speechless, your tears now fully dripping down the corners of your eyes, pouring down your skin.

reality is brought into sharp focus when you perceived the deeply intertwined bubble in your belly and how it was about to pop soon. With the curve of his lengthy cock, thickly hanging inside of you, scaramouche had an easy task to hit every so little swollen spot in within your velvety walls, eagerly rubbing them.

he's jerking himself slower and tantalizing, signalizing that he too, was close to his euphoric release. The scrutiny of pleasure was intoxicating and thick, your mouth gaping open but nothing came out, words without sounds, silent cries of your orgasm chasing your body.

you're screaming and convulsing on his cock, guzzling him dry with your sweet pussy— that he felt so squishy and soft inside of, it almost brought him to tears.

he's pulling you close, further, greedy for friction and release, scaramouche clasped onto you tighter with every new force of his hips, declaring your entire being as his, the power of his authority agonizingly searing.

the underlying sick bliss of his member filling you, his hand rubbing your erected nipple while you were fully emerged in suckling on his tongue, working around his wet muscle and tasting his saliva, a desperate ache pulsing in between.

you tipped your head back and let him hold you, in tandem, thrumming his hips into the right places in your insides. You sensed it, felt it, how he twitched in you and was about to unload his cum, your thighs already shining with wetness.

each pulse and tingle of his cock, unlocked a spasming sensation in your core, limbs tangling and hopelessly hanging onto each other as you collapsed, the smell of sex hurtling in the air of the thick room and amplifying your strong, tremendous release.

"f-fuck, fuck!" you're blurting out through impenetrable panting, moaning with your back rounded up to meet his relentless pace, your toes curling inwards as your entire body shuddered in both vibrations and the feeling of letting go, shaking at the overstimulation with the repeating press of his cock on your heat never giving you rest.

at the constant gushing and clenching of your tight cunt, scaramouche threw his head back and tore a current of groans off his throat, "archons-" he's whining out, the sounds breaking in the middle, "you always— always feel so incredible, fuck."

he's speeding up, muttering in your neck as he fully blew his load in you, your legs secured around his waist as he proceeded to greedily pump his warm seed in the deepest ends of your slicked up cunt, shivering with the overcoming stir.

his drunkened gaze caught his mess, his white ribbons smearing over the aching flesh of your drained walls as the thick globules of his cum began to gush out of your hole, drenching the damp sheets under you.

"say you love me." he's whispering of a sudden, his musky scent collapsing over you, "say it."

your body closely pounded to his to hide your face in his shoulder but scaramouche was eager to gather you in his palms, still able to perceive the wet, tired clench of your muscles on his half erected cock.

he's slumping on you, minutes passing with none of you building up enough strength to back away, "p-please." scaramouche kissed the corners of your lips, he was begging you, waiting and swallowing your name in between whimpers.

"i love you, i do." you hummed weakly with your response, without knowing if you really meant it. Maybe it was the pressure you felt, or the way he looked at you through his puppy eyes, or simply the fact that you were utterly tired of going against him constantly, whenever you both found each other again.

he seemed trapped in a daze with his eyes sparkling upon hearing you, so far off and unable to move, not that he wanted to.

this situation afterwards felt like torture, unanswered questions, the tangible ways of it both hurtful but entrancing. He's tucking you to his lips to flood his tongue into your mouth, as if he didn't want this situation to end.

not only because he felt relaxed with you, pleased by your presence and comfortable on top of you, no, it was also because scaramouche couldn't articulate himself very well.

he wasn't looking forward to another fight, one that would always break out the moment you had finished being intimate, had finishing loving you and came back crushing down to the thing everyone knew as the so called reality.

you weren‘t possibly able to run away from the consequences, the truth, and he wasn‘t either, because believe him when he says, scaramouche had tried to run away from his fate, so many times, that he cannot even remember all of it.

©2023 anantaru do not share, copy, translate any of my work

#genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact smut #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smut #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #scaramouche x you #genshin impact yandere #scaramouche x y/n #genshin impact wanderer #genshin impact kunikuzushi #genshin impact scaramouche #genshin impact scaramouche smut #genshin impact fan fiction #genshin impact images #genshin impact

[sleepinthrumyalarms]

— do you like them?

pairing: wednesday addams x fem!oni!reader

warnings: smut, lesbian sex, teasing, roughness, beastial appearance, all characters are aged-up

summary: wednesday comes to your dorm to check on you, worried that you skipped classes, and finds you sulking over a new attribute to your appearance. needless to say she finds it very much appealing

word count: 1.3k

"What... is this?"

The sight in front of Wednesday is one she surely has never ever thought she'd see in her life. It's dark in the dorm, the curtains are shut, but she can still see you — slouched on the bed, head in your hands as you look up at her, cheeks red with embarrassment. The girl's eyes trail further up to where your fingers are entangled in your (h/c) tresses, and her eyes widen at what she sees projecting from the top of your head.

A pair of straight scaled horns, sharp intimidating ends of a bleeding red color. She remembers those — she always sees them on your frame when you’re out hunting during Full Blood Moons. They are long but not too thick and not too heavy, considering how you can still hold your head up with no problem, but the way you reach a hand up to tug at one of the horns, aggravated, as if desperate to simply rip it off, tells her that there actually is a problem.

"I don't know!" you whine, brows furrowed in frustration, "I woke up like this. They aren't even supposed to be there when I'm back to normal," your palms cover your face, and your voice comes muffled, "Don't look at me."

"Is this why you were absent during class?" Wednesday leaves her backpack by your desk and takes a few steps closer, her gaze never leaving your brand new appendages, "Because of those? Seriously, (Y/n), you're a student at an academy full of monstrous beings, and you're shy because of a pair of horns?"

The ravenette stands in front of you now, her hands rising to grasp yours, pulling them away from your face, "Honestly, you should know better than this." She scolds, but her tone is much softer now that she can see your upset expression up close.

Sighing, you hang your head, the tips of your horns gently grazing the fabric of her uniform jacket, "It was different back when I was out in my... other form."

Wednesday lets go of your hands to press her palms into your chin, lifting your face to meet your eyes. She stares at you for a few moments, studying your features, then whispers a question.

"May I touch them?"

You're slightly taken aback by the inquiry, and for a second the ravenette thinks you're going to pull away from her hold, but there's no way you'd ever deny her anything. You nod, slitted eyes shifting from hers and down to the floor.

You trust Wednesday. Doesn't mean you feel any less self — conscious about this.

She moves her hands up to your cheeks, her touch cool and soft, tracing your skin, then leaves your face completely to slowly inch a pale finger closer to your horns. When she touches them, feather — lightly, you jolt, and the smaller girl quickly withdraws.

"Did I hurt you?" She asks, worried.

"No, no," you reassure her, and Wednesday can swear the dusted color on your cheeks deepens, "It just feels... weird. Not like when I touched them myself."

"Can I keep going?"

You mutely nod again, and she brings her hand up to press it against the base of the keratin growth. The horn is preternaturally warm and rough to the touch, and you shudder again, a shaky sigh escaping your lips. Wednesday traces her thumb up the bony surface experimentally, gaze flicking down to watch your face, and she's surprised at the way you bite your lips to stifle a groan.

"O-oh... Wednesday…”

Lifting her left hand to wrap it around the other horn previously ignored, she repeats the motion, stroking gently, and this time you tremble, wrapping your arms around the girl's waist to press her closer to yourself, looking up at her with mouth half — open, close to drooling.

Oh. She can work with this.

Wednesday caresses her fingers up and to the top of the sharp tips, and you let out a shaky whine, eyes closing in pleasure. She has never seen you like this. Oh, how much the ravenette enjoys it - pliant and needy, face ablaze in crimson, a complete mush in her hands as you crane towards her.

"Fascinating." You hear her praise through your haze of the wondrous sensation.

Wednesday's pools of grey slide up to your horns again, a much more devilish idea on her mind. Moving closer to your frame, she takes perch on your lap, and your hands instantly latch onto her thighs, your breathing languid and heavy. Sticking out her tongue, the ravenette presses it against the warm base of your horn, then slowly trails the soft muscle up to the very tip, and you can't hold back a moan then, the feeling almost enough to make you keen.

"Fuck... Please, I-"

Begging already? It seems like Wednesday has found a weak spot of yours - honestly, there were many others, but none of them could get as much of a reaction as this.

Wednesday pulls away and tugs — unsurprisingly, you follow, craning your neck and exposing her favorite spot, where she leans in to kiss along your jawline, licking at your pointed ear when she gets close enough, softly nipping at the earlobe. She starts to press gentle kisses into the column of your throat, leaving dark imprints, marking you as hers.

Pulling back, the small ravenette smiles impishly at you, and, unable to deny your lovestruck gaze, presses her lips against yours in a heated kiss.

Letting go of you horns, her hand slides down your body to the zipper of you pants, and she quickly undoes it, fingers sliding in past your panties to brush against your heat, the wetness gathered there making her sigh deliciously. Your claws grip the plush of Wednesday's thighs, legs parting as much as possible with the small girl still on your lap, and you whine into her feverish mouth before pulling away from the kiss, the stimulation too much, "Please, please, fuck... Don't tease…”

"How silly you are, thinking you can make the rules in such a pathetic state..." the pads of her fingers trace over your clit, and you jolt, "Just look at yourself... So susceptible... Who would've thought?"

She's always so unfair — simply having you in the palm of her hand isn't enough.

"What do you want me to do, (Y/n)?" The ravenette asks, rubbing slow tight circles on your clit that have you whining her name.

"Wednesday, please—"

"Please what, (Y/n)? Have I rendered you so brainless you can't even verbalize your wishes?"

You growl suddenly, brows furrowed and tusks bare at the insult, and you contemplate trying for the upper hand, but the small ravenette squeezes the horn still in her palm and you fall against her, unable to fight back.

The horns are too new, too sensitive and her grip suddenly too sure.

"Oh, so you want to act out of turn now?"

Her hand leaves your pants in an instant, pushing you back against the bed, and then she’s climbing over you, thighs pressing into your sides to keep you in place. You could easily overpower her —Wednesday's strength is far from enough to keep you down, but the dangerous glint in her dark eyes is enough to keep you from trying to escape.

Painted nails trail over the small revealed patch of skin of your lower abdomen the undone belt provides, not too much in a hurry to go back to touching you where you need her the most. Goosebumps raise up your body, and Wednesday looms close to your face, her free hand reaching for one of your horns to press it into the mattress, leaning your head back and making you hiss.

"Untamed little brat. I wanted to be soft and gentle with you, but I guess that's not what you want," she scratches at your skin, then her fingers move lower to roughly tug at your pants, "Hold tight then, bella toro. I'll teach you who's in charge yet."

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x reader smut #wednesday addams smut #wednesday x reader #wednesday x reader smut #wednesday smut #wednesday imagine #wednesday x female reader #wednesday x y/n #wednesday #wednesday netflix #wednesday addams #wlw smut

[luminousbeings-crudematter]

Entanglement (2/2)

PAIRING: Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x Medic F!Reader 

WARNINGS: allusions to smut || MDNI

A/N: I promised a sober part 2 for the 141 challenge by @glitterypirateduck || but it's very late because I am physically unable to get my shit together || but I made it softer and sweeter than the first part to make up for it :')

Prompts used: Secluded beach, pursuit (used literally as in one person chasing another), “I need a ride”, “Here, I’ll show you”

Part 1 || Part 2 || 

____

He ships out for a tour that keeps extending for some stupid reason or another and you don’t see him for three months.    

You tell yourself that your position as one of the medical personnel on base means that you must be present at the landing pad when the 141 arrive, you must check that they’re all okay and that no one’s injured and that you must search desperately, panic clear on your face, neck craning this way and that until you see him.  Until Johnny’s face comes into view, laughing at something, because of course he is, and then you can start to convince yourself that your finally being able to breathe normally is attributable to none of the boys being injured.  

Except…except when Johnny sees you, his brows shoot up to his hairline, and the smile on his face is beautiful, with just the slightest amount of smug.  Such a horrible, annoying, perfect man.    

He jogs to cover the last few feet between you, and stands in front of you, eyes just drinking you in—smiling, but pointedly not saying a word.  

“I just wanted to make sure you weren’t hurt.  Or anyone else,” you inform him quickly, eyes widening at your slip-up.  “It’s um…it’s why I’m here.”

“‘Course, luv.  No other reason, aye?”  His eyes sparkle in the afternoon sun, and glove-covered fingers lightly brush your cheek.  I can’t believe you’re here, his eyes tell you.

“Of course not!  Just wanted to make sure that no one needed emergency care,” you whisper, leaning into his touch.  Where else would I be?

“Thought about tha’ date yet, lass?” he says, and his attention is briefly drawn to Price rallying everyone to his office for the post-op debrief.

“Johnny,” you whisper, and his head whips around to look at you.  “I…I—”  You close your mouth quickly, too embarrassed to say anything when he stands there in front of you, looking like…well.  That.  

His brows are furrowed and concern floods the bright blue of his eyes.  “Wha’ is it?  I was only takin’ the piss, luv, dinna fash, it’s alrate if ye—,” 

“I have the next three weeks off.  I’m going to Scotland.  Edinburgh.”

“Edinburgh,” he repeats, his eyes wide and shocked.  And then his expression changes.  It’s subtle at first, but the smile that breaks over his face makes you feel like you’re looking straight at a sunrise, and you almost want to squint at its brilliance.  “Coincidence, lass.  I’m on leave m’self.  Might find myself in Edinburgh too, y’know?”

***

Johnny does finds himself in Edinburgh.  

And he finds himself equal parts impressed and happy and captivated when he learns of the hoops you had to jump through to arrange annual leave at the same time as him.  “So ye lied, eh?”

“I—no!  I didn’t lie!  I just withheld information, that’s all.”  You pause and turn to him, gingerly reaching out to hold one of his hands in both of yours and looking down at your intertwined fingers.  “I really wanted to be here with you.”

Lazulite.  

When you look up into his eyes, you’re met with pure, warm, melted lazulite.  His eyes hold you captive and you find that you want to drown in them, a prisoner by choice.  

When he doesn’t look away and you feel warmed by his gaze, you turn to look at the horizon, taking a couple of steps away from him and towards the water.  

It’s cold, so very unbearably cold, the freezing water and the frigid breeze it incites doing their jobs of keeping people out of the outdoors.  You’re alone with him on the beach, the tiny shops in the beach-town in the distance calling your names with the promise of warm food and an ale for your troubles.  But, the time for that will come…just, not yet.  

You turn back to Johnny and find that he’s moved closer to you, standing at the edge of the water with you.  “Ah’m glad ye changed yer mind,” he says.  “Ah’ve been…looking forward to this.”

“Oh yeah?” you challenge, grinning.  “What specifically have you been looking forward to?”

He shrugs nonchalantly.  “Pussy from the 141’s medic, obviously.”

Your gasp is dramatic and your eyes bulge at his words, too shocked to respond with anything but a bewildered  “What?  What?!”

But when Johnny doesn’t respond to you, doubled over in laughter, wheezing at your expression, you know exactly how to get him back.  You’ve barely even considered the consequences in your mind before you bend down and use both hands to splash him with the Arctic-temperature water, and he splutters, looking back up at you in shock.

You’re both frozen for a moment, before his expression narrows—“Oh, yer’ in a world of trouble now, lass,” he growls—and you make a run for it.    

The only sounds on the beach are the gentle sounds of the water on the shore, your shrieking laughter on the beach and Johnny’s occasional taunts as he chases after you.  You know he only lets you run away from him because it’s fun—the chase, the sound of your laughter, the adrenaline warming you both despite the cold winter air.    The man was a beast in the gym and on the track, could’ve caught you in a second if he wanted to, but this is fun.

Everything about being with him is fun. 

When he finally catches you, his large arms go around you and he lifts you, chuckling in your ear while he spins you around.  Your heart is full at that moment, so completely overflowing with your infatuation for him, so completely joyous at his cheesy actions that make you feel like you’re in one of your guilty-pleasure movies.  Being on a date with him is exactly like what you’d imagined—he’s effortlessly charming, naturally funny, attentive to you, and most importantly, he’s enjoying himself too.

You can’t believe you’d been saying no to this for months, denying yourself the pleasure of being with him for months.   The thought boggles your mind a bit and you forget all your reasons for doing it in the first place. 

So overwhelmed are you by your inner turmoil that when he finally sets you down, you turn around to face him, promptly put your palms on his cheek and kiss him full on the mouth.  He’s shocked, frozen for a second but seems to snap out of it, and kisses you back.  One arm goes around your waist to pull him flush to you, the other winds around you to rest on the nape of your neck.  There’s no escape from the intensity of his kiss, even if you wanted it.    

And you don’t want to leave his embrace anytime soon.  

His body shields you from the bitter cold, pulling you into his warmth until you’re left feeling like your bodies have been fused together.  Johnny is just as playful while he’s kissing you as he is at any other time.  He’s all enthusiasm and exploration, sharp little nips on your bottom lip, soothed by gentle licks.  When you hungrily open your mouth for him, you’re rewarded by the taste of what you will come to learn is just Johnny.  

He grips you even tighter, not even enough space for air to pass in between you, gets carried away by the way you sigh and moan into his mouth, and when he grinds into you, you freeze because you can feel him.  Hard, against your thigh.

Johnny whines when you stop kissing him back, your lips motionless against his, but releases you in a second when he realises that you’ve frozen against him.  “Bonnie, y’okay?”

“Erm, yeah, I—” you cut yourself off, because your cheeks are starting to warm and you don’t know where to look right now.  Definitely not at him, but you also cannot look down because what if your eyes wander to his crotch, and you cannot and must not be caught looking at his crotch and—

“Hey…y’alright?  What’s wrong, luv?”

Hm, how do you diplomatically and politely tell him that grinding against his hard cock had jarred you for a second and made you flood your panties with your arousal the next?  “N-no nothing’s wrong, I uh.  I was wondering…” you say softly, looking up at him from underneath your lashes.   “Do you want to go back to the hotel?  If it’s alright, I need a ride.”

His pupils contract to pinpricks. “Ah’ll give you a ride, bonnie.”       

***

Of all the things you thought would happen between the two of you in your hotel room after the first time you fucked, this wasn’t it.

“Ye wanted to know what I was looking forward to?  Here, I’ll show you.”

He proceeds to demand that you stay in bed while he sneaks into the bathroom and shuts the door quietly behind him.  Ten minutes later, the man emerges, victorious, with pink cheeks and looking mighty proud of himself.  He leads you by the hand into the bathroom, and helps you take off the fluffy, indulgent bathrobe he’d put on you.

The bath’s running, steam swirls around the room, warming it pleasantly, and Johnny’s managed to find a candle, somehow.  

“Get in, lass, come on.”

“Only if you come in with me,” you say, smiling.

If you were any kind of artist, you know your masterpiece would be your recreation of Johnny’s face in that moment—blushing, eyes downcast shyly, the perfect contradiction to the man who’d brought you to ruin only a few minutes ago.

You both take turns sinking into the warmth of the water, and when you’re finally settled, your back to his chest, your head leaning on his shoulder, you sigh deeply.  He brings your hand up to his mouth and gives your knuckles a kiss.  In quiet, hushed words you both decide on a strategy for keeping this thing you’ve just discovered private, just for the two of you at the moment.   

“And so when you say we’re not telling anyone, that also means you’re not going to tell Gaz?” you ask, sceptically.  

 “Naw, bonnie, we agreed.  I didnae ken what ye mean.”

“...yeah, okay, Johnny.  How about…three dates?  Three successful dates, and then you can tell your boyfriend about me.”

You hear him sputter behind you and it makes you chuckle.  “We’re gonna ‘ave more than three dates in the next few weeks, bonnie.”

“Oh?”  You turn around slowly, mindful of the water splashing out the sides of the bathtub and shift so you’re straddling him.  His eyes widen slightly at the sight of your wet body against his, and his hands grip the flesh on your hips immediately.  “Is that so?  What makes you so confident you’re going to get a second date?”

“I’m no’ a betting man,” he says, conspiratorially.  “But if ah were…the way you sucked my cock, bonnie?”  He leans back with a contented sigh and a look of overconfidence on his face.  “I’d say ah’m gonna get a second date.”

“Hmm,” you say noncommittally, and he leans forward to kiss you.

“And a third,” he says, smiling against your mouth.  “And a fourth.”   

“Maybe you’re right,” you concede.  “You’ll have to work hard for a fifth, though, Johnny.”

And when Johnny’s fingers touch you between your thighs at the words, his expression even and not betraying his intentions whatsoever, you’re convinced he’s going to work hard and get that fifth date.

#141challenge #johnny mctavish #johnny mactavish x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty #lumi writes #john soap mctavish x reader #cod soap #johnny soap mctavish x reader #soap mactavish #cod mw2 soap #cod mw fanfiction #johnny soap mactavish #soap fluff

[deliciousbasementtrash]

Playing Nurse for the Batfam

Summary: you are a nurse working for Gotham General Hospital. Batman has offered you a job. You are now a nurse for the entire Batfamily. You have to have lunch with your father. How will it go?

Pairing: Slowburn Jason Todd x Female!reader

Warning: Adult language, angst, physical and emotional abuse, panic attack

Word Count: 2.4k

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

Masterlist

Part Seven: Lunch with a Devil

I was restless. It was only 10:30 and I had already restocked my entire responder inventory. I had already done my laundry, the dishes, mopped the floor, helped prepare dinner, and now I was on my hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen floor with a toothbrush. Whenever I stopped thoughts and anxiety filled my skull. I hadn’t decided if I was going to go to lunch. My father would be less than pleased if I didn’t go. But I was supposed to be free of that guilt. Free of him. So, why does it feel like every time he talks to me I’m that helpless little girl all over again? The one that walked on eggshells. The one who did everything she could to be a good daughter and not be a burden. The one that took the pain and the demands with a smile and a yes sir. 

I’m not that girl anymore. At least… I thought I wasn’t. I scrubbed harder at an invisible speck of dust as the thoughts crowded my head. 

“Miss y/l/n, I do believe every centimeter of this floor is spotless thanks to you. There is no need to further scrub.” Alfred said, standing above me. Slowly he bent down so that he was at eye level with me. He took the toothbrush out of my bandaged hand, shaking his head. 

“Might I have a look?” He asked, nodding to my hands. In my anxious state, I hadn’t thought about the condition of them, or what I was putting them through. The second he grabbed them it was like my body remembered that I was in pain. 

I stood up and nodded, giving him full view. 

He patted the island chair, “Take a seat.” He slowly unbandaged them. They were red and swollen, some of the blisters had popped, and some had refilled. It wasn’t my cutest look. 

Alfred diligently put on numbing cream and rebandaged them for me. We sat in comfortable silence as he did it. Both of us concentrated on what he was doing. 

“May I ask a question about your gifts?” Alfred asked, gently.

Instantly, my body clammed up. I didn’t want to say anything, but I swallowed down that protective response and nodded. 

“You can heal other people. Can you heal yourself?” 

I bit the inside of my cheek. “No, I can’t.” Suddenly I was bombarded by memories. Ones I try to keep down.

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

Gotham City: 18 Years Ago  

“Sit down, y/n,” my Dad said, patting the couch. I was hesitant as I walked over. I didn’t want to be close to him. 

Slowly, I sat down. My body was tense, and I made sure my feet could sit touch the ground. I was not comfortable. I was ready to move. I was ready to run. 

“Darling, have you heard of the Kleinian and Winnicottian psychotherapeutic theory?” My father asked, peering down at me like an owl. 

I shook my head. 

“Well, part of the theory believes that children think that they are an extension of their mother. Children have a difficult time in their infancy and toddler years defining what is their own body or their mothers. Does that make sense?” He asked, his voice falsely sweet. I knew that I should just play along. I didn’t understand, but I wanted Dad to be happy. 

“I have a theory. If we can figure out how to make you heal yourself; you will learn how to heal your mother,” his words were frantic, his eyes bright. Some part of me wanted to run and hide. “Will you let me test my theory?” He asked. 

Not knowing what else to do I just nodded. I wanted Mama to be better. 

From his pocket, he pulls out a knife. My heart seizes at the sight of it. Quickly, so quickly, he trailed a cut along my thigh. Tears welled up in my eyes. It stung so badly. I didn’t like it. And the blood was getting on my favorite shoes. I frowned as I saw my blood run down my legs and stain them. 

“Heal yourself.”

I tried. I really tried. But I couldn’t. My powers wouldn’t listen no matter how much I begged. Dad never liked that for an answer though. 

So he cut. 

And burned. 

And stabbed. 

Over and over. For years. 

I never quite got it right. But that never stopped him from trying. 

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

I blinked away the memories that threatened to drown me. I don’t know if Alfred noticed the distant look in my eyes, but he quickly changed the topic. 

“You have barely said a word all morning,” Alfred said, making an observation. 

I knew this tactic. We used it in nursing. You state the obvious in hopes that the person elaborate and clarify if there is a reason. 

“I’m not feeling very social today,” is what I landed on saying. I didn’t want to reveal too much to him. It was almost like he could read me like a book though. 

“Why?” He asked, simply. 

He looked at me with his wise empathetic Alfred eyes. All of a sudden I wanted to crumble. I wanted to tell him everything that went wrong in my life starting with day one. But that was irrational. That was that scared little girl with the bloody sneakers that broke free from time to time.

I cleared my throat and flattened my face of emotion, “I’m seeing my father today. Well… I actually have not decided if I’m going to go or not.” 

Alfred gently patted my hands, signifying that he was done, they did feel a lot better. I mumbled a soft thank you, he nodded as if it was nothing. 

“Your father, is he a good man?” I saw the cogs in Alfred’s head turning, deciding that this was the best question to ask. 

“No. I wouldn’t say he is. But honestly, I don’t know if I have a definition of ‘good’ anymore.” My voice was smaller than I wanted it to be. 

“I see. Miss, may I speak candidly?” Alfred asked, picking up a spoon and polishing it. 

I swallowed, “You may.” 

“It appears to me like you are dreading this lunch with your father. What service are you doing yourself if you go?” 

I blink, trying to gather my thoughts. “If I also am speaking candidly, the service I would be doing for myself would be protecting myself.”

Alfred’s eyes narrowed, “In what way?” 

I shook my head. I revealed too much. “Protecting myself from a positively boring time! I mean the man doesn’t even like Skip-Bo! Can you imagine, Alfred?” 

“A truly horrific man I see.” His voice had a strange edge to it. One that I was unfamiliar with. 

I laughed and muttered so quietly under my breath that he couldn’t hear, “Truly a horrific man.” 

We didn’t say anything to each other after that. I politely excused myself and got ready for my hellish lunch plans.

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

I arrived at lunch at exactly 12:30. Usually I was a meticulously early person, but this small action was a quiet rebellion.

My heart sank when I saw the back of my father. His leg bounced. He was annoyed. Wonderful.

“I would think that for your mother’s memory, you at least try to be more punctual.” He said, already snipping at me.

“Mkay.” I purposely dismissed him. A new fire lit beneath me. Suddenly I didn’t care about his petty little comments or his opinion at all. 

I saw as he sat across from me; he was fully assessing me. Taking in every detail. 

“Why are your hands bandaged?” He asked. 

“Work accident.”

His eyes narrowed like he didn’t believe me. It didn’t really matter. I wasn’t technically lying.

“Do you ever feel guilty?” The question caught me so off guard I didn’t know what to do with it.

“Guilty?” I asked, clearly confused.

“That you could never figure out how to heal her.” He said the words as if they were special blows to my body. 

“Yes of course I do,” I said. 

“You don’t visit her grave. You don’t call. You don’t text. It’s like you never wanted to be a part of our family in the first place. Your mother would want us to be on good terms.” 

I took a long breath in through my nose and roughly exhaled. “Do you want something? That’s usually when you try to use her to manipulate me.” 

“Manipulate you! This is coming from the girl who would cry for my wife every time I tried to discipline her. You’re the manipulative ungrateful brat!” 

I got up quickly. Leaving behind more cash than both our bills and tips combined. “Every time I give you a chance you show me who you are. I keep thinking there is more to you or that you will change. Well, newsflash, you’re not going to. I don’t need you in my life. I don’t want you in my life.” 

Alongside the cash, I slapped down a court-ordered restraining order. 

“Good riddance.” 

I practically ran out of the restaurant. I didn’t wait to see his reaction. I quickly got into my car and drove off. Tears welled up in my eyes. Breathing became difficult. But I couldn’t stop. I didn’t know if he had men trailing me or not. 

I tried my best to keep it together as I drove back to Wayne Manor. I kept it together as I walked in the door. I kept it together walking up the stairs. I kept it together as I shut my door behind me. But after that? I crumpled in on myself. 

I sobbed until no tears came out and my chest hurt. I choked on the air, not being able to get enough. My mind couldn’t catch up with my body. I couldn’t get enough air in. It felt like my throat was closing. My fingers went cold and numb. Logically I knew I was having a panic attack. But I couldn’t calm myself down. I felt my heart pounding in my chest. My clothes became too tight. Helpless I started trying to take them off but I couldn’t they wouldn’t come off they were stuck to my body they would be there forever itching my skin until I couldn’t breathe and I died on the floor forever and ever and ever—

Strong hands gripped my face, “Breathe! Y/n breathe in! Like this,” Jason was laying on the floor with me, one hand on my chest the other on my face. He motioned inhaling in for five seconds and out for seven. In for five. Out for seven. The panic slightly eased but I still was trying to claw off my shirt. Once again I felt restricted and trapped. My breathing increased again. Jason grabbed both my hands with one of his and with his other hand he tore my shirt open. 

Instantly I felt like I could breathe. 

“That’s it. In and out. In and out. In and out,” he kept demonstrating for me until I had been steadily breathing for a few minutes. He just stayed with me for a while breathing with me. Our chests rose and fell together. I felt the warmth of his exhale against my cheek. It felt safe in that moment. Safer than I’ve felt for a long time. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked, his voice small. Smaller than I thought possible. 

Some part of me did but I didn’t think I was ready to reveal all of it yet. “I gave my dad a restraining order today.” I couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that rose in me. Soon I was snorting I was laughing so hard. “God, my life is such a joke!”

I felt Jason stiffen. He was surprised by this. Almost angry by this news. “Why? What shit did he do?” 

I shook my head my laughter dying down. “Can we talk about something else right now? Please?” 

Jason’s eyes darkened like he was remembering that piece of information for later. “I’m sorry for being a jackass last night. I get these nightmares and I get so confused and very hostile. I should have warned you not to try and help me.” 

I shook my head, “It wouldn’t have mattered. I would have tried to help you anyway.”

Jason gave me a pained look and gently ran his thumb along the edge of my jaw. “Why are you so nice? Why are you so good?” 

“Do you have a definition for good?” I asked, my voice suddenly husky, realizing how close we are and responding to his touch. 

“No. I just think of you,” he said, almost a whisper. 

I felt my cheeks heat, “Thank you for thinking that. I just don’t— you don’t know the things I’ve done. The people I’ve helped. It’s all gray, Jason. I promise if you find out more about me you won’t like it.” 

“I sincerely doubt that.” 

As if waking up from a trance Jason shot up. He tossed me a blanket, covering my exposed chest. He cleared his throat. 

“So, we are even now. You barged in on me. I barged in on you. Even Steven, all set, no worries. Goodbye.” 

Stunned into silence I watched as Jason left. What the fuck just happened? 

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

Jason was just getting to leave when he heard it. The worst sound he had ever heard in his life. The sounds of whimpering and choking sobs came from y/n’s room. Without another thought, he ran into her room. He found her lying on the floor, gasping for breath, and clawing at her own skin. He had to comfort her. He had to help. So he soothed the ways he had been soothed before. He stayed with her. He helped her in the ways he knew he could. But as if snapping back to reality, his promise to himself to stay away set in. 

Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck! The plan was to stay away from her not be her knight in shining armor! God, why the fuck can’t I stay away? I couldn’t stand hearing her cry or struggling to breathe. It was like something in me cracked open. I had no choice but to help her.  Jason thought. 

He threw on the red hood and stormed out of the house needing to regroup and blow off some steam. Maybe he would look into her father. But no that had to do with her. That’s off limits! Off limits, Todd! Off fucking limits! God, he needed to hit something.

Taglist: @soundsfunbutno@killxz@morpheus-girl@redhood414@bungunz@conicoroahre@greenyofthegreens@taytaylala12 @theroyalmanatee @nym-0-s @sarahskywalker-amadala @bonesbonesetc @dreaming-of-the-reality @gone-batty-fics @thescarletcryptid @bakugosgf2005 @irregular-child @vythika96 @greenyofthegreens @mythicalmo @eccentricarabella-blog @princessbl0ss0m @ghostindeath @whirlwind2005

Hashbrown Cam!

Please let me know what you guys think! I love reading the comments <3

#batman #batfam #batfamily #jason todd #dick grayson #barbara gordon #duke thomas #tim drake #damian wayne #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #nightwing #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x you #x reader #female x reader #whump #whumptober 2023 #whump writing #dc comics #dc universe #dc fanfic #fluff #angst

[rodolfoparras]

Hi! I just have to know… what are your thoughts on Makarov/Price, or just Price with a very intense and feisty partner 👀

Oh my god friend I loved this question but Istg every time I went to answer it I ended up with a response in the form of a book so I’m doing my best to stick to bullet points

Anyways I present to you Price with a very intense / feisty reader

First and foremost I want to note that Price isn’t docile himself, he feels rather strongly and sometimes acts impulsively but he’s learned to handle it throughout the years.

However when he first enlisted , fresh faced and ready to conquer the injustices of the world, higher ups saw these attributes as something to take advantage of so that they did.

Back then he didn’t see that, he was just happy that there were people in power willing to listen and willing to help him and while he got his hands dirty and went against everything he stood for, the higher ups stayed back home while offering simple promotions for his dirty work.

Since Price rose so fast in ranking, he probably attended many private parties and banquets organized by the army, and at one of those events he was bound to meet his future s/o

Back then he’d met you because he’d snuck out the event, had felt suffocated by the crowd and went outside to smoke.

There you were leaned up against the wall and offering him your cigarette

He swiftly takes it, while discreetly giving you a once over, noting you must be a soldier but not one attending this specific event for whatever reasons.

“Party that boring eh?” You say, noting the suit on him and the gloomy look on his face,

“You can say that” he says before taking a drag of the cigarette. “I’m not much of a party person actually” he says, taking another drag before passing the cigarette back to you.

“Yet you attended this one “‘you say with a smile on your face while exhaling a cloud of smoke into the air.

“Didn’t have a choice” Price shrugs watching tobacco smoke swirl around in the dark sky.

“Says who?” You say, passing the cigarette back to him.

“The party’s for me” Price says, lip curling in disdain.

You feel your eyes widen at his words, attention now fully on him rather than the tobacco.

“Oh now you’ve got me curios”

“Just a promotion, nothing special” he says, lips now curling into a small smile

“Nothing special eh what is it? Captain?”

“Lieutenant”

“You’re right, doesn’t sound special at all” you snort and he laughs along with you

Just as you’re about to say something else you see someone waving him over.

“Looks like someone’s calling for you -“

“Price”

“I’ll see you around Lieutenant price “ you say with a smile on your face, snuffing out your cigarette before walking away.

The next time he sees you, is when you’re being reprimanded for your behavior and he’s in charge of your punishment. It had been a minor offense but had resulted in you having to run laps in the rain. However when you had arrived in front of him he had quickly released you off of it.

“A merciful lieutenant who’d think that?” You say with a smile on your face.

“Don’t see a point of you just running around in the rain, join me instead?” He says with a smile on his own while waving a cigarette in the air.

As you sit down and smoke, he finds out that many times you’ve ended up being reprimanded for your behavior but that they haven’t kicked you out yet since you’re a very good soldier.

However he cant seem to comprehend why you keep getting yourself in trouble and you don’t give him a clear answer to that question either.

“Just remember while our hands get dirty someone else’s stay clean, I’ll see you around lieutenant Price”

After that you continue to bump into each other and every time you do, it’s because you’re in some trouble and Price is the one to get you out of the punishment. He’s still torn between being loyal to the higher ups and accepting the fact that they’re using him as a pawn in their own little games .

However he ends up making a decision when you get in trouble despite having done nothing wrong. You’re sent to your room and ordered to attend a disciplinary meeting. Price tries to reason with the higher ups, but they aren’t listening and in that very moment he realizes that these people don’t care about doing the right thing. They care about having power and controlling their subordinates

Feeling frustrated about the situation, and also feeling deeply worried for you, he decides to go and see you.

For someone who risks losing their entire career you look calm as ever, opening the door with a soft smile on your face.

“Lieutenant” you say while gesturing for him to come in

“Price” he subconsciously correct while walking inside.

“So what brings you here? Not that I’m opposed to it or anything.”

“Just wanted to see if you’re alright after everything that happened today”

“Oh that?”You wave him off before patting down the pockets of your coat that hangs on the wall, and pull out a pack of cigarettes.

You quickly light one up and pass it to him, before gesturing for him to sit down on your bed with you.

“You’re not worried that you’ll get kicked out?” He says, taking a drag of the cigarette before passing it to you.

You chuckle in response, putting the cigarette between your lips before you go to respond “not really, maybe I’d be if I still were a recruit but now? Not so much?”

“Why?” He says watching you exhale the smoke into the air before his eyes fall onto your lips, the way they pucker up to release the smoke, before falling back into a natural pout.

“I don’t know if you’ve realized it yet but they don’t give a shit about us here”

“I’m starting to” he says, eyes still locked on your lips, noting the way they’re curling up into a grin.

“Good” is all you say, “now if that’s all you wanted to say I suppose we’re done here unless..” you trail off, voice going lower as you lean closer to him.

For a second his eyes widen, body freezing in place. You continue to lean in closer until there’s only a cloud of smoke between you, serving as a barrier.

“Im- I -“ he tries to speak but his brain isn’t cooperating with his mouth. Instead he focuses on the way you lick your lips before you speak.

“If you don’t want this tell me to stop and I’ll-“ but before you can say more he grabs ahold of your neck and smashes your lips together, leaving you wide eyed and gasping before your eyes flutter shut and you lose yourself into the kiss

“You sure you don’t want me to come with you” he says looking like a whole sight with the sheets draped over his waist while lounging on your bed.

“No I’ll be fine” you say while shrugging on your shirt. “You stay here, I’ll be back soon” you add, eyes trailing over his naked body and feeling blood pool down to your lower half.

“Okay “ he says biting down on his lips before sinking back into the sheets .

You return quickly just like you had promised, and Price keeps his own promises by staying in your bed.

He stays there all day and for many more years to come. However the two of you don’t become anything official until much later on seeing as he’s focusing more on his career than having a relationship.

But in between those years of waiting you become a close companion of his as well as someone who knows his body better than anybody else in this world. You taught him to not let people take advantage of him and to do what he thinks and feels is right. He’s still loyal to some degree to those above him solely for the reason that they sometimes can come in hand. However Price wouldn’t let anyone dull your spark. He’d always aim to make sure that you get to stay true to yourself even if that means getting into a fight with his squad because you’re getting on the teams nerves with your temper, or making it clear that you are to be as respected as he is even though you don’t have some fancy title to go with your name

You work seamlessly together so much so people will come up to him and tell him “keep your dog on a leash” referring to the way you’re hovering behind Price and barring your teeth. But Price’s lips would only curl up into a smile before he responds with “it’s not him you have to worry about” because even though he’s learned to bite his tongue in order to keep important pawns on his chess board, he’d bite anyone’s neck off if they were to disrespect you.

#Jesus Christ this became a whole book half way in I had to wrap it up bc I’ve been sitting with this all day just bc I didn’t have a simple #answer pls 😭 #anyways thank you sm for asking me sugar I love love love questions like these #have a wonderful day and thank u for the amazing price art u make #alec answers #call of duty #john price #john price x reader #john price x male reader #captain john price #captain john price x male reader #captain john price x reader #price x male reader #price x reader #x male reader #male reader

[dragons-and-handcuffs]

Im not entirely sure what scenario specifically seems the most appealing. But what if we thought about Aemond and the youngest daughter of Rhaenys.

Rhaenys did love her two children. And they were enough for her. So when she found herself having a third, she certainly was surprised. She thought that was behind her. But a second daughter was welcome nonetheless.

While Aemond and his nephews grew up in King’s Landing, for a time she came to stay with her elder brother Laenor. Soon she might look for a match. And her mother thought it best that she become familiar with the intricacies of court before any of that. A good lesson, she cautioned. To learn that people are seldom who they present themselves. Something she should know well before talk of ANY match.

That is when Aemond first saw her. A few years above him. A young lady of 14. Not even close to grown in the eyes of her family. And he only saw her from a distance.

She was walking with his sister, Rhaenyra. Her eyes looking only forward. Her silver curls falling over her shoulders. Aemond kept staring at her as she walked away. Not a glance she spared him. Of course, why would she?

The first look she gave him it seemed, was one of shock. At Driftmark, when he lost his eye. She held her nieces close and that is when she looked at him. He decides she must have been frightened by this new “deformity” of his. She had said not a word. And yet for years, Aemond tortured himself. With the image of her walking so serenely, flowing as of right from a dream. And then her face as she looked upon him.

And as the years passed, he found himself unable to push away the images. Even more so. When a dragon had landed in the city. And a woman dismounted. A woman with silver curls.

Aemond had not expected her to ever return. He thought he was at peace. Nor did he expect her to meet his eyes and greet him. As if it was nothing. As if her eyes didn’t torment him. But now she torments him differently.

Her presence. Her voice. The way she carries herself, the way she glides through the halls. The way he begins to feel as if he’d fall on his sword would she only promise to grace him with a smile just once before the stranger takes him. He would curse her. Had he the nerve to bear it.

Instead he can’t help but watch her. He keeps his words to her brief. His actions formal. But his eye cannot help but find her.

One day she turns to him. “Have I done something to offend you cousin?”

He’s taken aback by the question. “Of course not my lady.”

She tilts her head. Looking at him with half concern. “Then why do you act as if we are strangers every time we meet?”

“Are… we not in a way? My lady.” Aemond almost lets the formality slip.

“We needn’t be.” She thinks to herself for just a moment. “Come. Why not join me for a ride?”

Aemond only offers her a skeptical look. If not a harsh one. “Why would this bother you? To be strangers? I know not much of you, and I can’t say you know much of me. Does it ever need to be more?”

She hesitates. “Maybe not…. But I confess. I feel…”

Aemond’s heart almost leaps from his chest. Oh he knows better than to assume her next words. And yet his body does.

“…. guilt. I fear it is because of the… friction between our families. You seem so uneasy in my presence. We don’t have to be close. I just don’t wish to see you straining yourself so, cousin.”

Ah, guilt. Reality stings. And angers Aemond, that he would briefly attribute anything else to her actions. She pities him. They are both grown. And yet he’s certain she will always see him as a boy. A boy she never spared a glance to.

Yet he flies with her. She challenges him to race, twirls in the air, and passes through clouds. He can hear her laughter, and see the grin on her face. The sunlight illuminates her face so well, the wind in her beautiful curls…..

Truly she must pity him. Or wish to torture him by trying to act as if she cares to get along. If only she knew how he lies awake. The sound of her laugh still in his ears.

Soon Rhaenyra and her family may return. He’s certain. And he can’t believe he finds himself looking forward to the day. Anything to distract him from this ache.

Why does she act as if she cares? Asking him questions. Even if she cares, he knows it isn’t in the way he can’t help but hope.

He does open up to her. Shamefully. All the effort he gives, all for duty. He talks of his desire for recognition. His frustrations. They come pouring out while they sit together. The books they had been reading put to the side. She rises from her chair and puts a hand on his shoulder. Saying not to stretch himself too far and torture himself with the ideas of what could have been and what will be. Don’t try to grow up too fast.

It’s half a joke maybe. But Aemond stands.

“But I am grown. Aren’t we both?” He finally looks her right in the eyes. And they pause for just a moment. Before she breaks it. Once again.

The implications of such words aren’t taken lightly.

Finally Rhaenyra does arrive. The King himself holding a dinner. That dinner…. How quickly things go awry. But when Aemond looks around, he cannot see her. She’s gone.

He slips out. Why does he need to find her? Why does it matter? He’s thrown away enough. One more risk. Just one.

He finds her by the fire. A room where they’re both alone. The light dancing in her eyes and now across them both. He calls her name and she turns. Her face is unreadable. Aemond knows it’s an awful time. But he can’t bear this a moment longer.

“Aemond-“

“Please. Please…. Let me speak.”

She sighs and looks to him. Sitting in a chair.

“I cannot bear this anymore. Your torture. How cruel you are. Your presence leaves me burning. Though I do not know if your presence is as agonizing as your absence. I am consumed. Body and soul.….”

She looks at him in confusion and shock. “Aemond you must tell me what I have done to offend you so! Is that why you fight my nephews! Is that-“

“Offend me?” Aemond walks closer to her. “I am only offended…. That I cannot escape you. I truly cannot.” He stares now into her eyes. “Your laugh still rings in my ears all through the night. Your smile would have me fall to my knees and beg for a release. Your eyes… pierce my soul. Your greatest offense, my lady, your only offense…. Is nothing can ever be beautiful again. In a world where you exist. All else falls away. All else is worthless…. without you.”

She looks at him. Shock again. He cannot bear it. But…. It doesn’t look cruel….

“Aemond….. you cannot speak such words to me. You do not understand the weight these declarations hold.” She stands now and holds her arms close, as if trying to collect herself. “If these feelings burn you, the whole realm could be ash then. I…. Cannot. In good conscience Aemond I cannot…. For our sakes, for our family, for the realm…. How could we?”

“You speak as if you know the feeling.” Aemond walks towards her. “Have you not felt this too? Is it true that you can now burn for me as I have always burned for you? If your soul aches as mine does, please share it. We may both find peace still.”

She stutters, unable to meet his eye. “There… there can be no peace for us Aemond. The realm is cracking. We cannot….”

“I beg of you.” He reaches for her. Touching her cheek. He slowly removes his eyepatch. “I lay myself bare to you. I fear not the wrath of gods or men, only to live without knowing what lies in your heart. Please my lady. If you truly do not share this. Please tell me. I will release you, and we need not speak of this again. I will give you peace I swear it. But if you truly burn as I do…. Please. Do not hide.”

She pauses and then she looks up at him. Her lip trembling. “I…. I cannot….”

Aemond almost feels his heart crack.

“….. I cannot…. Deny.” She gently touches his cheek. “I have begun burning. Just as you. Ever since we rode together. I have wanted you more every day after. And selfishly…. I want you now. I would…. Give my body and soul to you. If you give me yours in return.”

The euphoria Aemond feels is unmatched. She truly feels the same. And he’s close to her now….

He captures her mouth in a kiss. A deep, passionate, desperate, eager kiss. Slipping his tongue in and needing to capture it even further. He feels her moan against him. They should restrain themselves, even with this confession. But he has restrained himself too long.

He feels himself growing painfully hard, and he can’t stop from slipping a hand under her skirts and touching her eagerly. He hears her moan in response and it spurs him on. He kisses eagerly down her neck and rips the top of her dress, exposing her breasts. Kissing them as if this is his last night alive. And perhaps it will be.

He pulls back for a moment, seeing her panting and eager. As he all but tears his clothes to release his cock. She trembled eagerly at the sight.

Another night he’ll be gentle. Another night they’ll take their time. But this night they can’t. He holds up her skirts and finally shoves himself completely into her cunt. She moans softly and he almost moans himself. How he’s longed for her….

He pulls her close again and starts pounding into her with all of the desire he’s buried for so long. She gasps and moans and wraps her legs around him.

“A-Aemond my love… more… ah! Yes more-“

He kisses and bites at her neck. Finally giving in to let out a moan as he feels the way her body responds.

They lose track of time so easily, as they give into their desires. The only light from the fire as it illuminates their bodies. Aemond finishes inside her. But soon loses count. As they begin again…. And again….

Maybe someone will start looking for them soon. But they’re beyond caring.

Aemond is now on his back, watching her bounce up and down eagerly, taking his cock in her again and again.

Finally, they collapse together. After being fully satisfied. Aemond kisses her again. And she kisses back happily. As he holds her and she holds him.

None of the problems of the world can haunt him now. The burning is no longer a painful hurt. Now a beautiful euphoric ache

This is so beautiful 🥺🔥

#aemond imagine #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond x reader #hotd #house of the dragon #game of thrones #game of thrones imagines #hotd headcanon #hotd fanfic #hotd imagine #hotd imagines #hotd one shot #house of the dragon imagine

[finniestoncrane]

Regarding Black Mask having sadistic kinks…he would totally give his partner instructions that are impossible to follow (telling them not to make any noise and then doing something guaranteed to make them moan/scream) just so he can punish them when they can’t do it

Keep Quiet

Arkham!Black Mask x GN!Reader, word count: 1.4k ok be nice to me be kind to me this is my first black mask thing, and i gotta be honest, it's nice to write someone being a complete bastard who just is a complete bastard. reader has been paid by roman in an undisclosed agreement to be his little puppy, but he might be a bit rougher than they imagined... 💀 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: mentions of a monetary arrangement, sub/dom dynamics, rough oral sex, spanking, slapping, humiliation, degradation, sadomasichism, crying, pet play

"Keep. Quiet."

Those were the key words, the rules you were given. They'd been printed on the bottom of the invite card. They were uttered to you by the henchman who was posted at the door to the office. And Roman Sionis himself had uttered them slowly, cruelly, as he watched you undress and guided you to the slick, black platform in the middle of the room.

"Keep quiet. Don't make a sound. I'd hate to have to punish ya."

He turned on his heel, bright red flashing on the bottom of the polished, black leather dress shoes. With a dry chuckle, he turned again, leaning down once more so his face was level with yours where you lay face down on the platform in the middle of the room, though his was hidden behind the matte black skull mask he wore.

"I lied. Punishin' ya would be... well it'd be pretty fuckin' good. But I'm feelin' generous tonight, y'know?"

You nodded, perhaps a little too enthusiastically, as you realised that perhaps the reward here didn't quite make up for the risk. You got money, you got pleasure. But you potentially lost everything at the hands of Black Mask. Violent, notorious, and unpredictable.

Or maybe, you considered, it was worth the risk, given how quickly you felt the pit of your stomach warm, how your heartbeat skipped slightly, how your arousal tingled through you at the thought of those last three attributes. Handsome, yes. Rich, of course. Powerful, naturally. But those were nowhere near as arousing as the volatile behaviour you'd heard tell of being exhibited by Roman in the past. You wanted to experience that for yourself, truth be told. Apathetic, yes. But curious more than anything.

You wondered why you had to be quiet. Some of the others, the ones who had been hired by Roman before, had told you that he had the room bugged. That suggested that perhaps a loud scream might not be picked up well on the mics and would ruin his recording. But then why would he bug the room if he didn’t want any sound? Unless he just wanted to hear himself… But this was Roman Sionis. If he wanted to record any kind of sound, he wouldn’t do it covertly, and certainly not with anything less than the best equipment.

So was it perhaps something to do with the fact that you were in his office, within his building? His employees were right there, just beyond the walls. Maybe he would be embarrassed if they heard what was going on? But of course, he wouldn’t be. Either the walls were soundproofed to allow him to be as heinous as he wanted, or, more likely, they were paper thin so everyone could hear exactly what was going on. After all, who of his employees was going to risk saying anything to him.

And then, you settled on the realisation that it was control. He had control over you completely. From how much you wore, to where you lay, to how much sound you could make in his presence, regardless of what kind of damage he intending to inflict on you. No one spoke back to him, least of all the playthings he was paying. You were there to lay still and be keep quiet. So you close your eyes, letting your body, laying face down, sink into the surface of the podium you had been so sarcastically placed upon, and considered what might be about to happen to you.

Just as your mind began to wander further, causing your heart rate to increase, you felt the sharp, smooth crack of his palm against your rear. The flesh on one of your cheeks heated immediately in response to the smack. You didn’t have time to process the sudden invasion of your personal space before Roman was smacking the other side. His hand switched between your two cheeks, covering your ass in deep, rounded welts as his leather glove came into contact with your red, trembling skin. Over and over, the pain getting stronger either through the repetitive nature or the increase in force, in violence, behind his smacks. Until he suddenly stopped, his heavy breaths getting louder as he walked around you, his finger stroking along your curves as he made his way around to your head.

“Roll over.”

You did as he instructed, and were met with cruelty even then.

“Good dog. Do you know any more tricks then?”

You couldn’t tell whether you should answer or not, so you stayed silent, staring into what you could make out of his eyes beneath the dark mask. With a surprisingly gentle hand, he let his fingers spread through your hair, stroking it, soothing you almost, before he gripped it close to your scalp and tugged sharply. As he pulled your body towards him, you scrambled on your palms, trying to pull your body up the platform, closer to him, where he wanted you to be, until you were laying with your head completely off the edge. Upside down. Waiting for his next move. You opened your mouth to speak, to protest the uncomfortable position, but you were stunned back into silence as his palm cracked your face.

“Don’t even think about talkin’, sweetheart. Keep. Quiet. Keep fuckin’ quiet.”

You nodded, the sting of tears forming in the corners of your eyes. You worried that he might offer further punishment for this display of emotion, but instead he crouched down once again to your level and tutted.

“You dumb animal. Not quite as clever as I thought you were, huh pooch?”

He watched as you swallowed your nerves, throat tensing with the motion.

“Nervous, eh? Good. You should be.”

He placed a finger between your sternum, following it to between your collarbones, then trailing it up your throat to your chin as you watched him, his eyes keeping focus on where he was touching you.

“You know, if there’s one thing I truly hate…”

Roman paused, licking the lips of his mask, eyes narrowing as he took in your pitiful form before him.

“… it’s a puppy who isn’t housebroken.”

His fingers were suddenly tensing, putting pressure on your throat. Constricting your breathing ever so slightly. Enough to cause you to panic before you tried to calm yourself down, preserving the remaining breath in your lungs.

“You gonna whine, little puppy? You gonna howl an’ cry?”

Working against the strength of his grip, you managed to shake your head, a gesture which was met with a deep, dark chuckle from Roman.

“Good. I don’t have time to go take you to be put down.”

Your tears welled up as his grip got tighter, but you fought against the instinct to raise your hands and pull him away from you. If you could just see it through, keep calm, stay still, it’d be over soon. And it was. He let go, leaning forward to admire the dark imprints his fingers had left on your skin.

“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

A rhetorical question. He knew by the streaks of tears that were stinging your eyes as gravity carried them back towards them that it had been an ordeal.

“I told ya. I paid for ya, I ain’t gonna break ya. Not this soon, anyway. Not before I’ve had my fun.”

Your pupils widened as he brought his hands to the zipper at the front of his white, pinstripe pants. He reached his fingers inside the fabric and pulled out his cock, fingers wrapped around the base as he approached you. Inhaling only through your nose, you tried to keep your mouth closed, silently signalling to him your thoughts on what he was proposing. But he wasn’t proposing it, and he had no intentions of asking for your opinion.

He forced his cock into your mouth, pushing it between your lightly pursed lips, his head hitting the back of your throat as he pushed his entire length into you. There was no hesitation, no hint of him letting up despite the fact that you were now quietly choking on him. When you gagged and let out a whine, an involuntary noise, he whipped his cock out of your throat, drool spilling onto your face.

“If I have to tell you again, you are gonna be one sorry pup.”

Pressing a finger to your lips, you watched in silence as his cock twitched, clearly aroused by the control he held over you.

“Keep. Quiet.”

#black mask #roman sionis #finnie writes #arkham black mask #black mask fanfiction #black mask x reader #black mask x you #black mask fic #roman sionis x reader #roman sionis fic

[junnieverse]

pov ➳ P. GUNWOOK

➙ synopsis: everything about gunwook was perfect, his love for you coming in the purest of forms and you were starting to see yourself from his point of view

pairing: park gunwook x gn!reader

genre: heart wrenching fluff

word count: 1.2k

warnings: none that I can think of :p

a/n: the votes were in and you guys wanted to see this one first! To those that dont know, I'll be uploading various oneshots which are song based (such as this one) and possibly about a few other imagines with different songs for other members, each for all 3 groups I write for so be on the lookout for more in the future and share your thoughts on this one, bye!

❝ It's like you got superpowers

Turn my minutes into hours

You've got more than 20/20, babe

Made of glass the way you see through me ❞

Park Gunwook, was the love of your life, your soulmate if you must say.

He was perfect in your eyes.

For all the years you'd been together you could never understand what he saw in you, flaws and all.

He saw your imperfections as something perfect, your insecurities were strengths he loved about you.

His vision was a 20/20, no matter how much you tried to hide of yourself, he saw through it all.

"How much would you rate me as your life partner?" you asked Gunwook out of the blue as you were cuddled up in bed binge watching your favourite show.

"You're a 100 out of 10 love. I wouldn't ask for anybody else." he answers with a warm smile kissing your forehead.

❝ You know me better than I do

Can't seem to keep nothing from you

How you touch my soul from the outside

Permeate my ego and my pride ❞

Nobody understood you like Gunwook did, whether it was understanding your thoughts or emotions, he knew you better than you knew yourself.

That was something you admired about him.

You were insecure, especially about your physical attributes.

Gunwook was surrounded by incredibly attractive people, whether they were his friends or co workers, you always believed he could do better than you and you constantly reminded him of that.

"They may be better in your eyes but I think the best one already has my heart in their hands." he says as he held your hand placing it on his chest as you felt the steady beating of his heart.

❝ I wanna love me (Ooh)

The way that you love me (Ooh)

Ooh, for all of my pretty

And all of my ugly too

I'd love to see me from your point of view ❞

The sincerity and love Gunwook held in his eyes whenever he as so looked at you had your heart skip a beat.

You would fall in love with him all over again with just a smile.

He's always been there for you, be it you were at your highest or at your lowest.

Some boys may say their significant others are best once they're dressed up looking their best but Gunwook tells you that you look your best bare face, messy hair and rocking an oversized shirt with sweatpants on a lazy day (which in your opinion is probably your worst).

You sometimes look yourself in the mirror trying to identify what exactly you like and you'd be standing there for hours still trying to name atleast three.

His hands would wrap around your waist as he laid his chin on your shoulder, "If only you could see how beautiful you are from my eyes."

"I love you." he says making you blush profusely.

❝ I wanna trust me (Trust me)

The way that you trust me (Trust me)

Ooh, 'cause nobody ever

Loved me like you do

I'd love to see me from your point of view ❞

"Do you trust me?" he asks you as he hovered over you gazing into your eyes lovingly.

You hesitantly nod, "Y-yes, I trust you."

Did you really trust him... or were you still learning to?

It was weird seeing how he was able to trust you more than you did yourself.

How much he loved you more than you loved yourself...

You just want to be able to see yourself from his point of view.

❝ I'm getting used to receiving

Still getting good at not leaving

I'ma love you even though I'm scared

Learning to be grateful for myself ❞

Admittedly, you were slowly getting used to receiving all this love from him.

And you were still learning to stay instead of breaking down and leaving him.

You were definitely scared, you'd just been put through enough pain and heartbreak and you weren't ready for another one, it somehow felt like you were dependent on him... or his love, to feel some sense of worth.

Yes it was dangerous but you were blinded and intoxicated by him.

❝ You love my lips, 'cause they say the

Things we've always been afraid of

I can feel it starting to subside

Learning to believe in what is mine ❞

You were never one to shy away and not speak your mind, if you felt something needed to be said you made sure your voice was heard.

That was just one of the things Gunwook loved about you.

And the closer you both got, the more you started coming out of your shell and trusting him, learning to have hope that this was the happiness you deserved.

❝ I couldn't believe it

Or see it for myself

Know I be impatient

But now, I'm out here falling, falling

Frozen, slowly thawing

Got me right

I won't keep you waiting, waiting

All my baggage fading safely

And if my eyes deceive me

Won't let them stray too far away ❞

You were falling more and more, it was the inevitable.

It was hard not to fall in love with him, he was everything, the man of your dreams.

The weight of your past break ups and the baggage that was weighing you down was slowly fading away.

Were you ready to fully trust this man, give him your all...

Or will this all come crashing down and you'll end up in the same miserable hole, where you will end up hurt and deceived.

The same cycle...

❝ I wanna love me (Ooh)

The way that you love me (Ooh)

Ooh, for all of my pretty

And all of my ugly too

I'd love to see me from your point of view ❞

You heard it from everyone, whether it be his friends or even family, Gunwook was undoubtedly in love with you in every aspect no matter how much doubt you were in.

You were a mess, no matter how broken you were, he uplifted you and through the hardships he stayed beside you.

"Gunwook, I really can't do this anymore. I'm sure your fans would also appreciate you being with someone more attractive... or famous as well. I'm not the ideal type they saw you with." you tell him looking down thinking back to the various hateful comments or texts some fans had sent you.

"I don't care what they say. I'm happy with you... I'm in love with you. Everything about you is perfect, I'm not about to let go of the best thing that's happened to me because of toxic fans." he tells you cupping your face gently as he pressed your foreheads together.

❝ I wanna trust me (Trust me)

The way that you trust me, baby (Trust me)

'Cause nobody ever

Loved me like you do

I'd love to see me from your point of view ❞

You would think after everything you'd been through, Gunwook wasn't going to be by your side forever.

But he's proved himself on so many occasions that your relationship was going to work out and he has proved to you that he wanted to earn your trust and he did just that.

Nobody has ever cherished you the way Gunwook has, he sees you in such a beautiful way that because of him you slowly started to see yourself that way too.

He loved you...

And you loved him too.

#junnieverse.zip #park gunwook #gunwook #zb1 gunwook #zerobaseone gunwook #zerobaseone #zb1 #park gunwook x reader #gunwook x reader #park gunwook fluff #park gunwook imagines #park gunwook scenarios #park gunwook oneshots #zb1 x reader #zb1 imagines #zb1 fluff #zb1 oneshots #zb1 scenarios #zerobaseone x reader #zerobaseone scenarios #zerobaseone imagines #zerobaseone fluff #zerobaseone oneshots #kpop #kpop fluff #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop oneshots

[heich0e]

[warning: while f!reader is not described with any specific physical characteristics, the child in this fic is described as having inherited all of Megumi’s attributes and none from reader! please read with that in mind, or pass over this fic if not <3]

Who the hell are you?

Megumi can't shake the unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach as he stares down at you. He watches as you quickly compose yourself, pulling your expression into something a little less shocked, a strained smile appearing on your face instead. You can't quite meet his eyes.

You're shaking a little bit, with a windbreaker wrapped around you that's much too big for your frame—the logos and insignia on the coat belong to the police precinct Nanami works at, and he suspects he must have loaned it to you. You're soaked through beneath it, just like Kota was when he showed up earlier, and Megumi wonders how long you were out in the rain looking for him.

"Thank you for taking care of him," you say quietly, your hand still on Kota's back. He watches as your eyes trail across Kota's sleeping face, a glimmer of something distinctly sad behind your eyes. You move to take him from Megumi's arms, and without thinking his grip tightens on the little boy's frame. You look up at him curiously. "I can take him now."

Megumi swallows and nods, handing the child over with a quiet, unnecessary "Careful."

Kota looks completely at peace in your arms, nuzzling his little face into your neck the moment you take hold of him. He doesn't wake at all. Doesn't even stir.

It makes Megumi sad for a moment, that he won't get to say a proper goodbye.

He shakes that sudden, unwarranted thought from his mind as quickly as it appears. But there's something else lingering in the back of his mind, more distantly, that begs for him to pay it attention. To acknowledge it.

You turn your back to Megumi.

"I'll take you two home," Nanami says, nodding down towards you. He's still in his uniform, still on duty as far as Megumi knows, having come from the police station when Yuuji called him. This seems a fairly low-priority task given Nanami's rank as an Inspector with the prefectural police, but given that Yuuji was the one who contacted him it doesn't altogether surprise Megumi that the man took it upon himself to see the job through.

Yuuji fetches Kota's rain jacket from the coat rack, laying it over the sleeping boy's shoulders to keep him dry in the quick walk from the clinic to the police cruiser. Then Megumi watches as he carefully slips his little yellow rain boots back onto his feet. You face him once he's done, bowing as deeply as you can with your son in your arms.

"Thank you so much for all your help, I'm so grateful to you," you say to him, still bowing. You stand, glancing over to Megumi next, though you don't let your eyes linger for long before looking away again. "To both of you."

"He's a really sweet kid," Yuuji assures you. "Don't get too mad at him for taking off like that, he was just trying to do what he thought was right."

You smile a little, looking down at Kota's sleeping face. You brush a tendril of his dark, unruly hair away from his eyes.

"I know," you murmur. "I'm just happy to have him in my arms again."

"You should keep a closer eye on him."

Everyone freezes when Megumi speaks, his tone fairly flat.

You don't meet his eyes. You nod. "Sorry, Fushiguro-san."

"We should go," Nanami says, cutting into the conversation and shooting Megumi a look that makes him feel like a misbehaving child.

You nod towards Nanami, and allow him to lead you out through the sliding front door of the veterinary clinic.

It's still raining outside, though not quite as heavily as it had been earlier in the evening. Yuuji and Megumi stand in the doorway watching as you leave, Yuuji waving one hand up over his head when Nanami casts one last look back before slipping into the driver's seat.

It's only once the car finally pulls away, that feeling of molten lead still churning in the pit of his stomach, that Megumi comes to a realization.

He turns to Yuuji, and his friend looks at him a little bit strangely at the abrupt movement. His brow furrows when he sees the bewildered look on Megumi's face.

"Did you tell her my name?"

#megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #jjk drabble #jjk writing #writing #mini megumi #tw parenthood #tw pregnancy