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wooataes · 9 months

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Bangtan’s Receptionist

Pairing: Mafia Boss!Min Yoongi x Fem!Reader, implied ot7 x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Mafia AU, swearing, Death, blood, injuries, mentions of human trafficking but nothing too detailed, guns, character death.

Summary: Bangtan’s contracts are clear and concise. They are to be followed to the letter, including the most important rule, do not touch their men.

A/N: Just another generic Mafia Yoongi Drabble I couldn’t stop thinking about since Haegeum came out. 🫠 I could possibly turn this into a little oneshot series for each member, let me know if you want more!

- Tae 🥰💜✨

Request to join my taglist here!

Masterlist

Min Yoongi, in simple terms, is a straight cut business man. With his 6 other colleagues, his brothers, he runs Bangtan Industries, which on the outside seems like a clean cut courier company. On the inside however, the cargo that is transported by Bangtan Industries is more than just letters and stationary for offices. Yoongi and his boys, as the rivals know them, are extremely loyal to their men who work alongside and under them, even so far as to including in contracts that they can be terminated if any harm comes to any member of Bangtan Industries, even as far as the janitor who cleans the office on weekends. Any attack on their men is an attack to them directly, and the whole world knows of this fact.

You were hired 3 years ago by the CEO of Bangtan, Kim Namjoon to be the front of the company, their receptionist and on occasion, assistant for all 7 leaders. They’re all particularly fond of your bubbly presence in the office building, always happily greeting the bosses with a smile and providing homemade lunches on occasion, which usually is more often than not. You always make sure the boys keep their health up, not even phased by their attitudes when they spent too many hours without sleep. You’ve been the most consistent employee, and the members are more than grateful to have you.

“Good morning, Master Min!” You chirp as Min Yoongi strolls through the office door, adjusting his tie. He can’t help but give you a soft smile.

“Y/N, you know that I’d rather you call me Yoongi when its just us. It doesn’t bother me.”

“Oh, I know, I’m just way too used to it!” You grin as you place a take-away coffee cup and a wrapped toasted sandwich on the desk in front of you. “Breakfast is served.”

“You also don’t have to do that every morning too.” He lets out a huff with a grateful smile. “I hope you got your usual too. If I find out you didn’t, I’m forcing you to take your break early to go get.” Yoongi chuckles as you wave the second paper cup on your hands. He nods with finality and takes your makeshift breakfast for him and makes his way to his office.

After a quiet morning, you’re startled by a loud bang of the doors to the entrance opening and a large man in a 3 piece suit with his gaggle of men trailing in behind him, clearly armed, stalking up to your front desk.

“Good morning, sir. How can I be of help today?” You hum, the large men not phasing you.

“We’re here to see Min.” The man grumbles, hands squeezing the edge of the desk.

“Oh of course,” you smile, typing up on your computer. “Give me a few moments to see if he’s available to see anyone right now.”

You can feel the mans eyes on you as you’re typing, waiting for the response to pop up.

“Ah, I’m sorry sir, Master Min isn’t available right now. You are more than welcome to take a seat and wait until he’s ready-”

You yelp as the man reaches over, grabbing your wrist and pulling you up so you are face to face with him. You wince, his nails digging into your skin and small trickles of blood running down your arm.

“Listen here, you little bitch,” he seethes, “i have been trying to get on Min’s ass for 2 weeks about my fucking cargo I purchased from him and it still hasn’t arrived yet. If you don’t get him out here, I’m storming in there myself and getting my shit back.”

“What on earth is going on here?” Yoongi steps out from his office after hearing the commotion, adjusting the cuff on his white button up as he stalks up to the reception desk. “Ah, Mr Yang. I was waiting for you to show up.”

“Min.” Yang hissed, dropping your wrist and pushing you back into your seat, which Yoongi takes note of. “Where the fuck is my cargo? You said it would be here within the month and yet its the 27th and nothing.”

“Miss L/N.” Yoongi speaks, causing you to snap your head towards him. “Did he hurt you?” He eyes your wrist, which you’re trying to hide under the desk, clearly not very well as it is still in Yoongi’s line of vision.

“O-oh, no, Master Min. I’m fine, really.” You stutter out, giving him a smile.

“I will deal with you after I take care of business.” He murmurs, looking down at your hidden wrist, blood smearing into your blouse. “Mr Yang, if you could come inside. I do believe my receptionist shouldnt have to deal with the likes of this, wouldn’t you agree?” His tone is icy as Yang grunts, nodding his head before pushing past Yoongi and strutting through into his office with his men following behind. “Y/N, I would recommend playing sone music for the next 10 minutes, okay?” is the last thing Yoongi asks of you before closing the door behind him.

“I dont understand why you are so upset, Yang. I gave you exactly what you asked for.” Yoongi hums, sitting at his desk and watching Yang and his men stand over the desk menacingly.

“Thats bullshit and you know it, Min.” He barked, slamming his fist on the table.

“Oh, is it?” He raises his eyebrow, leaning forward and placing his chin on his hands. “Do explain why, because the way I see it, you asked for X amount of drugs and X amount of guns and ammo. Am I wrong?”

“You know what half of those drugs were code for, you ignorant shit.”

“Oh, no no no.” Yoongi chuckled, standing up, revolver in hand. “See, now, if you were implying what you think you are implying, and I truly hope you’re not, then you’ve worked with the wrong man.” He smirked, holding the gun up towards Yang.

“You see, if you read through the terms of our contract - Bangtan do not associate with anything involving trafficking women and children. I truly hope that isnt what you wanted.” Yoongi tilted his head, glaring at Yang. “Is it?”

Yang swallowed lightly, looking between his men, who all have their guns by their sides and their hands up. They know Min’s reputation. They know better than to fuck with them.

“Ah…” Yang sighed anxiously, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. “You are right. I believe I was mistaken. It appears that all our cargo was in order. Isn’t that right, boys?” He glanced between his men, who all nod shakily. “Now that we have that misunderstanding out of the way, I don’t think there’s anything else to talk about, so I will take my leave now, Min.” He turns to leave, only to freeze when the revolver now presses against his temple.

“Ah ah ah, not so fast.” Yoongi chuckles, kicking Yang’s knees out from underneath him, forcing him to kneel. “I would’ve been willing to let you go, no questions asked about what fucked up shit you’re into,” he leans down now, whispering into his ear. “but then you laid hands on my receptionist.”

Yang’s eyes widen, struggling against Yoongi’s boot digging into his legs. “What?” he breathed out.

“Did you even read the contract, Yang?” Yoongi hissed now, pressing the gun harder against his head. “Now, you are more than welcome to come in here, ranting and raving about me and the shit I do, I really couldnt give a flying fuck.. but as soon as you touch my people and my men, now theres fucking hell to pay. Rule number fucking 3 my friend. Do NOT touch my men. Do you have anything to say to defend your pathetic ass?”

“I’m sorry,” Yang blubbers out, hands shaking. “I really didn’t mean it, Min! I-I-”

“Save it for hell, Yang.” He squeezes the trigger, letting the body fall to the floor.

“Come on,” you hissed, aggressively rubbing water over the sleeve of your blouse, earphones blaring music in your ears as Yoongi directed. You’ve been scrubbing for 5 minutes and sadly nothing is working for you. At this point, you haven’t even looked at your arm, now bruising and stained with small trails of your blood.

A figure steps into your line of sight, causing you to lift your head quickly and push the headphones off your head. “Oh, Master Min!” You gasp out, seeing his white shirt splattered with blood. “Did you need me to get your shirt booked in to the dry cleaner?” You start typing up the website to get the booking made when you feel his hand take your wrist.

“Does it hurt?” Yoongi asks quietly, looking down at you through his eyelashes, letting his fingertips run along the marks Yang left.

“O-oh.. um.. a little, but nothing I cant handle!” You smile sweetly at him as he shakes his head.

“You shouldn’t have to handle it at all.” He frowns, using a damp cloth to gently wipe away the trails of your blood before taking some paper towel and drying your arm off. “I do apologize, you didn’t sign up to deal with that shit. I should have been out here waiting for Yang’s arrival.”

“Master Min,” you smiled softly, letting him tend to your arm - you knew it made him feel better when he helped Bangtan with their wounds. “Please don’t stress, I knew what I signed up for for this job.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he delicately starts placing bright pink Hello Kitty band-aids over your scratch marks.

“Dont laugh.” He grumbles, patting the band-aids down so they stick. “Jimin insisted that we got these to make Taehyung laugh whenever he was hurt.” He lied, Jimin had snuck to you that Yoongi kept his Hello Kitty band-aids with him just in case any of the girls in the office - another word for just you and you alone - were hurt - he just never got to use them until now. But you’d never tell him that you knew. Instead, you just smile and let Yoongi tend to your wounds.

It may not be the best job in the world, but at least you know your bosses have your back.

#bts angst #bts fluff #bts ot7 x reader #bts x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi angst #yoongi mafia AU #BTS mafia AU #BTS AU #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x You #min yoongi

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norrisleclercf1 · 1 year

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Little Traitor

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Wolff!Reader

Requested: Yes/No

Request: Hello there, I was thinking of a Max x Wolff!reader. She and Toto doesn’t have a great relationship because he was so focused about F1 that he started forgetting her (birthdays, holidays etc.). Her and Max met when they where young and has stayed in contact, even starting a relationship. Anyways they get caught by some rando (media or fan) and She and Toto get in a fight. Red Bull team is very supportive and makes her one of them.

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Stalking mentioned, Christian is actually nice, Toto is a dick, daddy issues

Part 2: Little Backstabber

It was no secret in F1 that you are Toto Wolff's daughter from his first marriage. Everyone thought he dotted on you like he does, Jack, and you let people believe that, but it was far from the truth. He didn't pay you any attention.

He didn't mean for it to happen, but when Lewis started to win repeatedly, he forgot about you. First, it was your birthday. It landed on a race, and you let it go when he called to apologize for not wishing you a happy birthday. But, he started to forget more important dates, your middle school graduation, holidays, high school graduation....even college graduation.

You kept brushing it off, but it has strained your relationship significantly, but you always put on that smile around cameras and acted like everything was okay and perfect.

When you were at the track, it wasn't for your father; no, it was for a World Champion, not the one your father wanted. But one of his biggest rivals.

Max and you met when you were both young, maybe 12-13 years old, and stayed in touch, even evolving into more than friends. Late-night talks turned into late-night kisses, and sleepovers turned into doing more than just sleeping. You hated hiding this from the world, but you both agreed it was for the best.

Max was well aware of your strained relationship with your father and knew that you'd need to keep this relationship hidden if you wanted anything to do with Toto. He hated it. He wanted everyone to know you were his and he was yours, but he kept it tight-lipped out of respect for you.

"Honestly, I'm tired of hiding." You whisper softly one night. It was a warm Baku night as you both walked around the city, enjoying its life and the people living their lives.

"What?" Max was shocked to hear your confession. He knew how serious and badly it would go if word got out about him dating the Mercedes Princess.

"I'm tired of it all, Max. I don't care if Dad isn't happy with it or if it breaks our relationship this time, I don't want to hide anymore." Your hand squeezes his as Max nods, kissing your head.

Unknown to both of you, someone was already one step ahead and working on the year's drama with one single article. The following day, you feel Max's arm tighten as he still sleeps, but your phone vibrates as you reach for it. Sleep-covered eyes squint as you read the notification.

Mercedes Princess? More Like Verstappen's Queen. Get the inside scoop on how the Mercedes Princess falls from grace and into the arms of her biggest rival.

"No, no, no, no! Oh god, NO!" You scream, covering your mouth as you scroll through the article, pictures upon pictures of you and Max through the years.

Max sits up quickly, hearing your frantic yells, and looks around, pulling you into him, worried someone was in here when they should be.

"Snoepje? What's wrong?" His voice thick with sleep as he starts to wake up fully. He freezes, seeing the tears run down your face, and snatches your phone as he stares in disbelief.

It starts with your first date, to your first kiss, and fucking he'll even your first night together. Of course, those photos didn't show it; it was clearly implied when it highlighted the different appearance of his girlfriend the following day. Max reads the article, his grip on you tightening with quiet anger as it deeply details your relationship and how you kept it hidden from your father.

"Fuck, baby, I-" He closes his mouth, unsure what to say to you. How does he apologize for this, for this blatant invasion of privacy.

"He's going to see this. He's going to" You stop before swallowing; it feels like knives going down your throat.

"It's okay; listen, let me get rid of this article first. This is so beyond the line of privacy; I mean fuck, they had to be stalking us." Max seethes tearing out of bed and shoving on sweatpants.

You sit in bed, mind reeling at what you should say to your father, how you will face everyone, or even in public. Grabbing your phone, you hit trends and see you trending number 1; you itched to click on your name, but you are terrified of all the hate you'll see. Instead, you focus on Max's voice, the anger and hurt he felt on the phone, knowing he was probably talking to Christian.

Max walks back into the room and shakes his head. "They're going to do everything they can to get rid of the article, but-" "It's already out there." You finish for him making Max nod his head, sitting across from you.

"If you want to go home, I understand." He whispers, making your head snap up.

"I'm not leaving you. Are you kidding me? Max, if I left now, that'd only make things worse, Dad.....the fans....it'll be a blood bath." You whisper, hanging your head again, grabbing Max's hand and squeezing it.

"No, I don't want to expose you to this part. I'm used to it, alright, there's no shame in wanting to leave Y/n, but I refuse to stand by while this happens." Max begs as he pulls you close, kissing you gently.

"Max, my father is probably tearing his hotel room apart." You whisper, cringing at how he might be reacting right now.

"Okay and? I love you, you're happy and respected, and fuck, I love you. So what if I've defiled you over and over and ov-" You laugh, slapping his shoulder lightly as he smiles, glad to see that smile.

"Come on, we've got qualifying, and I don't want you leaving my side," Max mumbles kissing your lips as he drags himself away from you to get dressed.

Pandemonium. It was utter chaos when you and Max arrived at the paddock. It was ordinarily busy on Qualifying days, but since the article dropped this morning, fans, commentators, and media have been everywhere trying to get a glimpse of you two or even a statement.

Red Bull took you in without even a second thought and protected you from the cameras as they pushed everyone away. Even posting a statement on all social media pages about legal consequences for the article and anyone who comes to the paddock without permission.

Max plants you next to Christian, who decided to sit inside the garage and next to you, knowing Max would trust him to keep an eye out. Christian doesn't say a word to you as he talks to Max about what needs to be done to get the Pole position, and you just sit there watching people move about, not a single soul questioning why you were there and not at Mercedes.

"He's got it, don't you think?" You snap out of your trance and look at Christian, who's staring at you, waiting for an answer.

"Wha-? Oh yeah, he's amazing. He'll get pole." You mumble, staring at the screens, not wanting to see the pity in his eyes.

"I knew." He blurts out, making you turn, shock all over your face.

"He told me 2 years ago after his first Championship win. Confessed everything. Started asking me to watch you and Toto to ensure everything was okay. I didn't question it, but it didn't take long to figure out why. If...if you ever need a place to escape to, me and Geri have a place open for you...always." He mumbles before putting his headphones on and watching the screens with crazy lines and dots.

"Thank you." You whisper, putting on similar headphones as you watch Max dominate.

"Yes!" you scream, tackling your boyfriend, who just secured pole position. Max laughs as he holds you close, spinning you around; he couldn't be happier. He got pole, he doesn't have to hide his feelings, and he's holding you in his arms. Nothing could ruin this.

"Y/n Wolff." A dark German voice seethes, making everyone in the garage freeze. Even the cameras scurry off, knowing to not broadcast this.

"Papa." You whisper as Max sits you down, standing half in front of you, blocking your view of your father.

''Excuse me, Max, but I need to speak with my daughter." Toto drawls out, but you know that tone. It was. I'm super pissed and about to yell tone.

"Actually, I'm okay right here, sir," Max smirked, but it was a nervous reflex. He didn't want to start a fight, but he would for you.

"Max, it's fine. Go cool off, okay." You mumble, pushing the Dutch driver away, who looks back and forth between you two before kissing your forehead.

"I love you." He whispers for only you to hear before walking away, but just enough to still be within earshot.

"How dare you!" Toto spits, making you flinch slightly; thankfully, Max doesn't notice it as you feel like a little girl again when Toto used to punish you.

"Papa-" "Don't. I don't want to hear your pathetic excuses out of your mouth. How dare you betray this family." He snarls, and that makes you snap.

"Family? What family Papa? We haven't been a family in years! You don't even remember my birthday, much less what I like! When Lewis started to win, you forgot about me, and now you want to act like we're some perfect family!" You yell, everyone watching.

Max takes a couple steps forward, but Christian and Checo stop him letting you finally stand up to your father.

"You're my daughter! And your fucking the enemy!" Toto roars as you just stare at him in disbelief.

"Hey, that's enough!" Max yells, but you grab his arm, stopping him as you finally look your father in the eye.

"He's not the enemy Papa. He's the man who loves me! Who remembers my birthday? Who was there for my high school AND college graduation? By the way, you said you were too busy to even come too, no more likely you forgot and made up an excuse. He's the man I love and would marry and spend the rest of my life with because he's always there for me when you never were. He showed me how I should be treated when all you did was lie and forget about my existence." You scream

Strong arms wrap around you as you turn into your boyfriend's chest, sobbing as he holds you close. You hear people shouting and Christian kicking your father out and slamming the garage door.

"I've got you, okay? I love you." Max whispers, trying his hardest to calm you down.

"Don't leave me." You whisper, making Max's arms crush you as he whispers soft Dutch words promising never to leave you.

He wasn't the enemy of your story; he was the Prince Charming.

"Come on, let's go to the motor home," Christian whispers to the both of you as the guys move quickly to get everyone away as you bolt for the motor home.

Christian stops you both at the door and smiles. "You're our family." He smiles, making fresh tears appear as you move to hug the Red Bull principal.

"Thank you for everything." You whisper, glad to have found this family.

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 9 months

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Invidia

Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x f!reader Warnings: Plot? I don't know her. Jealousy, dom/sub dynamics, slightly toxic relationship, alcohol consumption, light choking, spit kink, light bondage, P in V action, use of sex toys, overstimulation, degrading language, slight praise kink, implied oral (m receiving) Word count: ~1.7k

Summary: Aemond dishes out a punishment that won't soon be forgotten when his partner attempts to make him jealous. Based on this request.

Author's note: I don't have a tag list - please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

Her grip tightens around her martini glass, eyes narrowing, as jealousy bubbles acrid and bitter within her chest.

She watches as the dark haired woman grazes her perfectly manicured nails over Aemond’s bicep, red stained lips pulling back into a saccharine smile, revealing pearly white teeth. She knows the woman is drop dead gorgeous, but in her envious state she sees only a predatory threat to her relationship, her thoughts darkened and unkind with internalised misogyny.

Worse still is that Aemond appears to be doing nothing to stop her, he is allowing this woman to flirt shamelessly with him. While his mannerisms are impassive, not returning the woman’s touches or suggestive grins, she believes he should be making it explicitly clear he is unavailable.

She hadn’t even wanted to come this evening, she had been desperate for a quiet night in front of the TV, just her and Aemond. He’d insisted they go though; the opening night of Aegon’s new cocktail bar and he simply had to support his family. So she’d dolled herself up, allowed herself to be dragged along and how here he was making a mockery of her.

Two can play at that game.

She wants to make him feel every bit as jealous as she does, to remind him he isn’t the only desirable person in their relationship, and she knows just the person who will strike that blow hardest.

Scanning the crowd, she spots the man of the hour propping up the bar, tipping back tequila shots.

Swallowing the remnants of her drink in a single gulp, she winces slightly as the combination of vodka and vermouth burns lightly in her throat, then heads over to where Aegon is standing.

“Hey, you,” She greets him in a sing-song voice, reaching out to brush her fingers against his forearm. “Love what you’ve done with the place!”

“Thanks,” He says with a smirk, his eyes traveling over her appreciatively, before nodding towards her glass. “Looks like you’re empty, shall I get you another?”

She knows that the music isn’t so loud that she can’t be heard by simply raising her voice a little, but she also knows that doing that won’t grant her the attention she so desperately seeks from Aemond. So, she leans in, her lips brushing against the shell of Aegon’s ear as she whispers to him.

“Oh, I would love one, thank you!”

Drawing back, she watches the bob of his throat with a satisfied smile, as he swallows thickly. She was having the desired effect on one brother, at least.

“You got it,” He tells her, his hand brushing hers as he relieves her of the empty glass and turns back towards the bar, holding up two fingers towards the bartender.

It’s then that she feels a firm but gentle grasp on her upper arm and turns to look up into the steely gaze of Aemond. The taut bun that his long, silver hair is pulled back into leaves his face unobscured, so the hardened lines of anger are unmistakable. While his left eye remains milky and lifeless, the fury that burns bright within the blue of his right more than makes up for its absence.

A shiver runs through her. Perhaps she has pushed this too far.

“We’re leaving,” He tells her flatly.

Her eyes widen as she tries to protest. “But Aegon’s just getting me a dri–”

“I wasn’t asking,” He shoots back, grabbing her hand and leading her through the crowded bar.

He is silent on the drive home. The hand that would usually rest against her thigh keeps a firm grasp of the steering wheel as he stares straight ahead.

The tension inside the car is unbearable. She knows she’s in trouble. Her stomach flutters nervously, wondering what she can say to calm him down, but can come up with nothing that she doesn’t think will enrage him further, so she stays silent.

The moment they arrive home, he spins her around to face him, pressing her against the wall, causing her to gasp. His hand grasps lightly against her throat as he stares her down. Arousal pools warm between her thighs.

“Just what the fuck was that tonight?” He hisses lowly.

“I-I was just chatting to Aegon…” She stammers, gazing up at Aemond, doe-eyed.

“Oh, it looked like it was more than chatting, much more.”

“It wasn’t, I swear!” She whines, regretting ever having approached Aegon in the first place, but unable to shake the effect that Aemond’s display of dominance is having on her.

“Hm,” He raises his free hand towards her face, tugging at her bottom lip with his thumb. “Open.”

She opens her mouth, steeling herself for what’s to come, but still shivers when she feels him spit harshly onto her tongue. She swallows without having to be asked, inwardly delighted at the hum of approval that Aemond emits.

“Thought you could use something to accompany the filthy lies that are coming out of your mouth,” He mutters darkly, his grip on her throat tightening.

She whimpers as her resolve crumbles. “That woman was flirting with you!”

“Ah, there it is,” He smirks. “You behaved like a stupid, little slut with my brother because you were jealous? Pathetic.”

“She was all over you, you did nothing to stop her!” She snaps back, feeling herself grow angry.

“But I didn’t do anything, did I?” He snarls, eye narrowing. “If you saw the number of women I turn down when you aren’t around you’d fucking cry, yet I can’t trust you not to throw yourself at my brother. Would you rather be with him instead?”

“No, Aemond, I only want you!” She clings desperately to the front of his black button up shirt.

“Is that so?” He cocks his head slightly, his hand still around her throat.

“Yes, I was just trying to make you jealous. I’m sorry,” She pleads.

“Hm. You’re about to be. Bedroom. Now.”

He releases her throat and she walks on unsteady feet towards their shared bedroom, nervous excitement making her heart race.

She lays back on the bed, biting her lip in anticipation, as Aemond stands at the foot of it, the metal clink of his belt being unfastened the only sound in the room. The audible slide of the leather against the cotton of his suit trousers as he removes it from the loops causes her skin to break out into gooseflesh.

“Wrists together. Above your head,” He orders.

She does as she’s told, her throat running dry when she feels the mattress dip either side of her as Aemond straddles her, winding his belt around her wrists and using it to bind them to the headboard.

“Colour?” He asks simply, making eye contact.

“Green,” She whispers.

“Good girl,”

The praise shoots straight to her core, making her clench around nothing. He leaves her with no time to ponder on what his next move might be, as his hands disappear beneath her skirt to tug down her underwear.

She arches off of the mattress slightly as his deft fingers swipe through her folds, coming away glistening with her slick.

“Little slut,” He whispers, before freeing his cock, showing he’s every bit as turned on as she is.

He takes a firm hold of her hip with one hand, grasping the base of his erection with the other and forces himself all the way in to the hilt in one fluid motion.

She is wet enough that any preparation isn’t required, but the sudden stretch still steals her breath away.

Aemond’s thrusts are quick and sure, his hips snapping against hers harshly as he brings his thumb between their bodies to rub at her clit in rapid, tight circles.

Her nails bite into the leather of the belt around her wrists, struggling to ground herself as pleasure builds steadily within her gut, each slap of his skin against hers nudging her closer to the edge.

His breathy pants combined with the look of determination on his face give her the final shove she needs, and she falls apart with blinding white warmth that washes over her from head to toe.

She’d believe her punishment was over were it not for the fact that Aemond has yet to cum. His low chuckle as he stills inside of her is all the indication she needs that he’s just getting started. He leans over, never slipping out of her, and pulls her Hitachi magic wand from a drawer of the bedside table.

Fuck.

“Colour?” Aemond demands again, his voice husky.

“G-green,” She breathes shakily.

He purses his lips. “We’ll see about that.”

The jolt that rockets through her body when he presses the toy against her, at maximum speed, causes her to squeal. He keeps it there, resuming his thrusts inside of her and the combination of the two is too much. She trembles all over, her mind feeling foggy.

“What are you going to do the next time you feel jealous?” Aemond asks.

“N-fuck-nothing!”

“Good girl. And that’s because you can trust me.”

A sob of pleasure is ripped from her as another orgasm has her tightening and spasming around Aemond uncontrollably. He shows her no mercy, keeping the wand firmly on her, the momentum of his hips never slowing.

Aemond’s breathing is ragged, sweat visible upon his brow from exertion. “Do you trust that yours is the only cunt I want to bury myself inside of?”

“Aemond…please…” She mewls piteously, overstimulation making her shake.

“I need you to say it,” He grits out.

She tugs involuntarily at her restraints, tipping her head back. “Yes, I trust you!”

He brings her to peak three more times, before he finally relents. “Colour?”

“Yellow,” She says weakly, voice hoarse and eyes teary.

Aemond switches the toy off, tossing it to the side and slowly pulls out of her. She hisses at the sensation, noticing that he is still rock hard, not having peaked himself yet.

He rubs gently at her wrists as he unfastens the belt, helping to get the blood circulating once more. Brushing his lips against her temple, damp with perspiration, he whispers softly to her. “I’m not done with you yet, just giving that sweet little pussy of yours a rest. For now–” He leans back on his haunches and taps the head of his cock against her lips. “You can put that pretty mouth of yours to work, you’ve got quite the mess to clean up.”

#aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #prince aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond stannies #pro aemond targaryen #modern aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #hotd #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen fan fiction #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fan fic #hotd fan fiction #hotd fanfiction #hotd fan fic #hotd fanfic

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endious · 1 year

Text

c’mon you can take it.

ft. jtk x f!reader

cw. dubcon, blowjob, face fucking, dacryphilia, spitting, degradation, hair pulling, slight praise, implied knifeplay at the end // wc. 2k

It was almost too cute the way your tiny hands pawed at his thighs, an even cuter pout on your lips as you look at him with glassy doe eyes. You seemed to know what worked the best on him, you fucking minx.

“What do ya want, doll?” It’s more of an order to answer rather than a question as his index and thumb grab your chin lifting your head up just a bit more. His thumb rubs around your bottom lip and he can see the soft begging look in your eyes but he wants you to say it, he gets off knowing and hearing you say what you want. Another way of defiling your warm innocence that crumbles away with each tainted touch of him.

“Wan’ you..” Oh and he can never get enough of that embarrassment on your face. Your cheeks hot to the touch and your brows furrowed as you try to gather up enough courage to speak your thoughts.

“I’m right here,” He laughs, pinching your cheeks together to smush your face before letting you go, a smug look on his face. “You have to be more specific than that, doll. Tell me what you want.”

Your eyes flick down to his crotch before looking back up into his eyes. You aren’t very good at hiding it, in fact you’re very much obvious in the way you’re behaving like a cat in heat right now.

“Want your…” You mumble, soft lips pushed out in a pout again as your fingers move to toy with the chain attached to a belt loop hanging off his pants. The soft clinking of the metal fills the silence of your bedroom.

“Hm? I didn’t quite hear ya.” He grins widely and you push your face down onto his stomach with a whine. You’re avoiding answering him and it’s cute but he wants you to say it, needs you to say what you want before he gives it to you. He enjoys seeing how desperate you’re willing to become to get what you want from him.

His hand finds its place on your cheek, lifting your head up and the look on his face when he stares down at you makes your tummy swirl with fluttering warmth.

“Do you want it?” You nod silently in response and he laughs, “Then say it, princess.”

You shake your head. “It’s too embarrassing.”

“Is it really now?” He chuckles, letting his hand reach your hair before grabbing a handful and tugging just a bit, enough to make your pupils dilate the slightest bit more at the subtle pain. “Say it and I might stay a little longer.”

That seems to click with you. Your voice is quiet, “I… wanna suck your cock, Jeff.” Oh the added bit of shyness is just the cherry on top, makes his dick spring up in an instant while his jagged lips curl up into a smile.

“Yeah?” He grins, tilting his head while the ends of his black hair tickle your skin. “Wanna suck me off? Be a good little slut and choke on it?” It’s humiliating the way he’s saying it, using a condescending tone as he grabs your chin tight to make you look up at him.

He grins wider at the glassy gleam in your doe eyes. “Then take these off and do it, doll.” He grabs your hair and tugs your face towards his crotch making you nearly squeak. “It’s not that hard to do y’know?” If you could slap that smug look off his face you would, but you’re far too needy to care about his bully behavior right now.

Your fingers tremble with want, eyes glossy as you blink at the shiny zipper before curling your index under it and pulling down, the sound of the slow ziiiiip makes your thighs squeeze tighter together. You felt impatient yet so patient for it at the same time.

He’s grinning at how eager you are, leaning back on the bed to give you better access while you tug the button undone and reach for his belt. He can see the way you’re practically drooling over the large tent in his pants as his belt clinks in your much smaller hands and is also tugged loose. Your eyes lift up to look at him and fuck he could shove you onto his throbbing cock right now if you keep staring at him with that slutty look in your eyes. Like you want him to fucking break you.

“What is it, doll?” He asks, voice low and he sees the hearts swimming in your eyes. “Do you need permission?” He snickers at you to which you pout before tugging on his black jeans until they rest against his knees. You were greedy to get to his dick weren’t you?

Your fingers curl under the band of his boxers, staring up at him with needy eyes as you pull them down. You wiggle a bit, squishing your perfect tits together in that tank top of yours, giving him the perfect view from where you lay on your belly with your arms propping you up. Your cute ass being hugged tight by those shorts you always seemed to wear when he was around. It’s like you wanted to rile him up.

He hums, the sound rumbling in his chest when his cock is freed from it’s confinements and your lips part slightly at the sight of his hard cock, the tip leaking pearly beads of precum that make your mouth water.

He grabs it by the base and slaps it against your cheek just barely, enough to see the small glint of his cum on your face while you make an embarrassed look. How cute, how pathetic.

“Go on, suck.” He smiles, lips curling up in a creepy grin that seems to stretch his scars while he pushes the tip of his cock against your soft lips.

Your eyes look down at it once more, wrapping a hand around it after he removes his own before kissing the tip softly, gently. Your tongue peeks out, kitten licks against it to taste the salty fluid just waiting to be licked up by you. It arouses you more than it probably should, your hips wiggling as you let out a needy whine.

He groans quietly, hand finding its place in your hair he pulls rather roughly. “Don’t fucking tease me.” He warns but it makes your body shiver with want, eyes sparkly as you look up at him for a moment before focusing back on his cock. Your lips wrap around the tip, sucking just a bit before taking more of his length into your mouth with a soft moan that vibrates around his cock making his jaw tighten at the feeling.

His fingers nearly dig into your scalp, nudging you down a bit more as he grows impatient and it’s only when you start to struggle a bit that he snaps and thrusts up into your mouth making you gag around him. You pull yourself off with a soft pop, coughing for a second before he’s pushing you back down onto his length, your fingernails digging into his thighs as you look up at him hopelessly while he uses you like a fleshlight.

He grins down at you, his fingers tugging on your hair as you stare up at him with watery eyes, your nails digging into his thighs.

“Aw is it too much? Can’t take all of my cock?” He pushes you down further, his dick touching the back of your throat as you choke and gag around him. “All that pretty makeup is ruined now, huh?” He likes how you look though. Your mascara running in streaks down your cheeks, creating a mess of all that hard work you did on your look earlier. He doesn’t care though, he’s glad he’s the reason you look so messy and humiliating right now.

Pretty tears fall down your face as you struggle to take his cock, his hand tugging your head up and down his length. His jaw tightens and he bucks up into your mouth again and the way your throat tightens around him had him wanting to do it again despite the taps your poor little fingers were doing against his thigh. “Fuckkk, such a tight little throat. Want me to cum all over your face, doll? Make an even bigger mess?” The little whimpers you make only rile him up more and he’s starting to care less and less about if he hurts you now, only chasing after his high as he throws his head back with a groan.

Your finger taps pathetically at his leg, hoping he’d listen to let up but he doesn’t. He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care enough to stop and give you a break. Your throat burns and your jaw aches as he uses you, pushing you up and down his length like you were a toy meant to be used by him.

The sight of him right now though was enough to make your hand retreat down to the burning warmth between your legs, rubbing fast circles over your clit through your shorts as tears slip down your face and you moan around his cock loudly.

“Such a whore, huh?” He grunts, a particularly rough push on the back of your head to follow his words. “Drooling, makin’ a mess on my cock. You like to be used don’t you? You like it when I force you to choke on my cock you pathetic little slut—“ His words are cut off by a hissed intake of air, his fingers tugging on your hair so roughly you might worry he’d pull strands out of your scalp but the lines are blurred and all you feel is overwhelming pressure building up inside of you.

He notices the way your hips are rolling into the mattress under you, eyes rolling back slightly as you suck on his dick with loud moans and whines. “You’re playin’ with yourself aren’t you?” You seem to grow worried at that, your brows furrowed slightly and your eyes wide at the hidden warning in his voice as he spoke. “I’ll fuckin’ beat you if ya are, doll.” His hand reaches down between your legs where he finds your own tiny hand still rubbing away at your puffy pussy despite his words.

He grins, a strained laugh as he pushes his cock down your throat and holds you there while you choke and gag around him. “Stupid bitch, couldn’t follow one simple rule, huh?” He seems amused if anything. It was predictable that you’d get too lost in lust to hold back. “I’ll just have to remind you of what happens when you don’t listen. Now swallow my cum, whore. Don’t you dare waste a— ngh, drop of it.” His hand pulls you up and down his cock a few more times, guttural groans leaving him while he grits his teeth and his jaw clenches tight as hot spurts of cum hit the back of your throat before he bottoms out in your mouth.

Your hands grab helplessly at his thighs as you hold back from coughing around him at the overwhelming feeling of his seed filling your mouth.

“Swallow.” He orders when he tugs you off his cock covered in a shiny veil of your spit while you stifle a choked cough and swallow with a small whimper when he pulls you closer by your hair. You open your mouth, sticking your tongue out and he hums in approval before suddenly letting a glob of spit land in your mouth and he smears your drool over your lips with a grin. “What a good doll.”

The simple praise makes a droopy smile grace your face but it’s short lived when you feel cold steel running over your bare thigh making you shiver with a small gasp.

“Now it’s time for your punishment, yeah?” He tilts his head, scars stretching into a wide and scary smile as he pushes the blunt edge of the blade against your plush skin, inching it closer to the damp spot against your shorts. “Be a good painslut and take it f’me.”

#jeff the killer smut #creepypasta smut #creepypasta x reader #jeff the killer x reader #jeff the killer x y/n #jeff the killer x you #jeff the killer #creepypasta

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theaudacitytowrite · 3 months

Text

Stay Awake! - Part 1

Materlist

Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

A/N: An attempt at a spooky fic:) This is based on a creepy story my siblings used to tell me when we were little and back then it scared the shit out of me. Whether it really is scary is debatable^^

Time wise it starts a day before Halloween.

Also, since I only started watching SPN (on S4 currently) I'm quite sure this might be a bit off timeline wise. For example I needed an animal for the story but I have no idea when/how long Mircale is around in the series.

warnings: dolls, cursing, implied smut, bad horror (Season 1-esque storyline), Canon? What's that?

Golden divider = new day

black dividers = new setting/some time has passed

word count: 5.891

Dean’s feet lazily dragged over the ground. He groaned and huffed, sometimes a yawn would leave his throat.

„Come on, big boy. Let’s try it here.” you dragged him behind you while holding his hand so he would actually follow you.

You stepped up to the bed and breakfast, a rustic little single-family house. Dean and you were in desperate need of a place to stay the night. You had just finished a gruelling hunt and were beyond exhausted. But so far you hadn’t had any luck. All the motels in the area were booked.

“We can just sleep in Baby,” Dean muttered groggily.

“So you can whine about your sore back for the next couple of days?” you looked over your shoulder to look at him with a raised brow, “No thanks.”

"I wanna go home! My feet hurt, my back aches already and I'm tired! We've been on our feet the past 3 days!" he whined, pouting like a little overtired child.

“I know, my feet hurt just as bad and I’ve been awake just as long as you, you little baby.” you teased, “And I want to go home, too, but I don’t think it would be a good idea to drive another 5 hours to get home, while you nor I can keep our eyes open.” Dean grumbled but seemed to follow you more willingly now as he heard your reasoning.

When you entered the B&B a foul smell made its way to your nose immediately. It was sweet yet sour at the same time. You were surrounded by weird-looking paintings, figurines, and a collection of creepy dolls. It was quite dusty and weirdly gloomy in the house, and something just didn't feel right.

"Since when are bed and breakfasts worse than motels?" Dean muttered into your ear as he tried to not touch anything while walking through the small, crammed foyer to head to the unoccupied front desk.

"I don't know. We rarely visit bed and breakfasts." you shrugged as you let your gaze wander through the odd room. Dean scrunched his nose and almost pressed himself against you as he followed you like a shadow.

"Something wrong?" you glanced at him with an amused look.

"Nah." he shook his head and took a step back, "Just hurry up and ring the bell, so we can leave again."

“Leave again? You don’t think they have any vacant rooms?” you chuckled, “You’re so pessimistic.”

“I hope they have no free rooms.” Dean huffed.

"We have to tell Sam about this cosy little B&B. He'll love it here!" you snickered as your eyes roamed over the décor.

"He sure would…" Dean pressed his lips together, trying to breathe as little as possible. He bumped into you when you suddenly halted your steps, your gaze fixed on the fireplace in the next room.

"Do you see that doll?" you pointed in the direction of the fireplace. On top of it sat a little wooden doll with a rancid-looking dress. What caught your attention was, besides her size of an actual baby, her fluent movements. The doll seemed to wave in your direction, a wide grin plastered on her face.

"You mean that spawn of hell that creepily waves at us?" Dean dryly asked.

“Mhm… unnerving.” you hummed, completely focused on the doll.

„Good evening!“ the warm voice of an elderly woman suddenly chimed up, making you and Dean jump. “Oh dear, I didn’t mean to scare the two of you.”

“All good.” you chuckled, clutching your heart.

“How can I help the two of you?” the woman smiled endearingly.

“We were wondering if you still have a room available for one night. We tried every motel and hotel, but they’re all booked.”

“Yes, my dear. We still have enough rooms.” the woman quickly looked through her little notebook, “We got two with single beds and another free one with a double.”

“I wonder why…” Dean muttered next to you, earning a swift nudge from your elbow into his ribs.

“We would love to take the one with the double bed.” you smiled sweetly at the woman.

After checking in the old woman led you to your room. To your relief, the room itself was much brighter and less smelly than the foyer. And even the number of dolls was drastically lower and the décor was much more modern.

“Heh… weird.” Dean chuckled as he looked through the room.

“What?” you hummed as you rummaged through your bag.

“Isn’t that the doll that sat on the fireplace downstairs?” Dean inclined his head as he approached the doll that sat on an old commode.

“Maybe she got two?” you shrugged, heading into the bathroom to take a shower.

"Mhm." was Dean's only response as he inspected the doll. It seemed like there were no mechanics at all. Still, her motions were so fluent and lively. Dean carefully picked her up to not break her. He pulled away the crunchy feeling fabric as he searched for the battery pocket but couldn't find one, no matter where he looked.

"Must be some kind of solar thing," he murmured to himself and shrugged. He plucked down the little dress the doll was wearing when an idea popped into his mind, a mischievous grin spreading on his lips.

As you returned from the shower half an hour later and opened the door without suspecting anything bad, you jumped immediately.

“For fucks sake, Dean!” you growled as the doll sat in front of the bathroom door, smiling sympathetically at you as she waved. Dean meanwhile was giggling while lying on the bed, elated that he had scared you successfully.

“Got you!” he cackled triumphantly, making you roll your eyes at him.

“You're lucky I love you.” you grumbled.

“I know.” he smiled sweetly, before heading for a shower himself, pecking your cheek swiftly as he passed you. "Shouldn't have let your guard down..."

The two of you soon settled down in bed, overripe for a good night’s sleep. Dean was out almost immediately as his head hit the pillow. You on the other hand seemed not so lucky.

You lay wide awake in the bed, not knowing why. All you wanted to do was sleep. Maybe it was the unfamiliar surroundings, maybe it was the rest of the adrenaline from the hunt that still ran through your veins. And it didn’t help that Dean was felling trees right next to you. One day you’d smother him if he wouldn’t get that snore checked out.

You jumped slightly when there was a soft thud echoing through the room. You glanced at the clock that stood on the bedside table. A few minutes past 3a.m. You glanced at Dean who was still fast asleep, completely unbothered by the sound. He really was exhausted.

You sat up in the bed and scanned the room. You chuckled when you realised that your duffle bag had fallen from a chair onto the ground. You lay back down and sigh, trying to give sleep another try. You nuzzled against Dean who quickly encased you in a hug, pulling you against his chest. You hummed contently and finally managed to drift off to sleep.

The next morning you and Dean woke up early, quickly throwing everything into your bags before you zipped them up and quickly checked out.

The old woman wasn’t too thrilled that you declined her breakfast buffet which consisted of off-colour sausages and weirdly looking eggs. She was appeased when Dean and you at least took a bread roll each before saying your goodbyes and hurrying out of the smelly B&B.

As soon as Baby rounded the corner, you threw out the stale bread rolls in favour of stopping at a drive-in to get a quick breakfast that wouldn’t get stuck in your throat and take you out.

It was around noon when Dean and you finally arrived back at the bunker, and you quickly started to get your bags out of the car and restock the ammunition and the rest of your weapon arsenal. You'd had a lot to get done, unpacking your dirty clothes to get them washed and repacking the bags for the next hunt as soon as possible. This had been all you've been doing lately, hurrying from one case to another without getting a real break.

When you wandered into the bedroom and opened your duffle bag you almost fainted.

“DEAN! What the fuck!?” you screamed enraged.

“What?” Dean looked at you innocently as he entered your shared room.

“Don’t look at me all innocent!” you scolded him, “You know exactly what you did!”

“As much as I want to take the praise for it, …I don’t.” Dean dryly replied, smiling at you tight-lipped.

“Then please enlighten me how else this freakish thing appeared in my bag!” you pointed into your bag in which the doll from the B&B laid neatly on top of your belongings.

“Dunno.” Dean shrugged, “I swear, Y/N. I didn’t put it in there. It must’ve fallen over when we packed. I mean, I didn’t even touch your bag until you gave it to me to put it in the trunk.”

“Sure.” you glare at him, not believing a single word.

“I swear.” he chuckles, trying to get your good grace back by hugging you tightly from behind, peppering your cheeks with kisses.

“Don’t suck up now.” you giggle.

“But I gotta cheer you up.” he murmured.

“Then be a dear and throw it out. I’m not gonna touch that thing.” you muttered, looking at the doll in disdain.

“Sure thing, my love.” he gave you another peck on your cheek before unravelling his arms from your waist. He picked up the doll, holding it in front of his face. “Bye-bye, Y/N.” he tried to mimic a creepy voice as he walked backwards out of the room.

“You’re such a dork.” you chuckled, shaking your head and continuing to unpack.

It didn’t take long when you heard another shriek resound through the bunker. You quickly hurried to the source of the turmoil, coming to a halt in front of Sam’s room. You were met by Dean who was toppled over in laughter while Sam was sitting on the floor, chest heaving while the doll was sitting on his bed, smiling endearingly as she never ceased to wave.

“Dean, you’re an idiot.” you can’t help but giggle a little.

“I had to, darling.” Dean wipes away a tear he had shed from laughing so hard.

“Did you?!” Sam snarled, scrambling to get back to his feet.

“Oh come on, Sammy. T’was just a joke.” Dean grins triumphantly, shrugging innocently before patting his brother's back teasingly.

“You good, Sam?” you tried so hard to bite back a grin yourself. Sam cleared his throat and nodded.

“Now that I got the two of you here, we could talk about the agenda of the coming days.” Sam changed the topic, earning a groan from Dean.

“How about you let us come back and settle in first.” Dean huffed annoyed.

“Bobby called me repeatedly already. He needs us down at his house. He got a pressing case for us and told me to come down as soon as you two came back.”

“Can we at least have one more day?” Dean bargained, letting his head fall back, “I still need to wash my clothes, else I’ll have to wear my boxers inside out.”

“Gross.” you grimaced.

“If you wanna take the blame for the delay.” Sam hummed, raising his arms in surrender.

“I’ll handle that.” Dean scrunched his nose, “Then it’s settled, we’re going for drinks tonight.” Dean proclaimed with a cheeky grin.

“What? What about your laundry?” Sam narrowed his eyes at Dean.

“What ‘what?’?! Can’t do much while it's in the washer, now can I? Might as well grab a drink then.” Dean smirked smugly. “And I know exactly where we’ll go!” Dean waved a piece of paper around. You swiftly grabbed it from his hand. Sam peeked over your shoulder to get a glance as you read over the flyer.

“ ’Come dressed up - get a free shot’ …?” Sam read out, raising his brow sceptically “Really, Dean?”

“Admit it, you just want to dress up.” you hummed as your eyes drifted from the flyer to Dean. You almost snorted when you saw his eyes sparkle gleefully. He definitely already knew what he’d wear.

“Nonsense.” he protested nonetheless, “I just think a free shot would be neat.”

“Sure, Dean…” Sam shot him an incredulous glance and shook his head.

As you and Dean walked back to your room you could tell that he wanted you to guess what he'd wear. He stared at you expectantly, not watching where he was going.

“Let me guess…” you hummed amused, trying to hold back a laugh. “Cowboy?”

“Cowboy.” he grins giddily, nodding enthusiastically. “What’s your pick?”

“I dunno… I’m not that big on costumes.” you shrugged.

“You can’t tell me you don’t have any costumes.” Dean gasped almost offended, closing the bedroom door behind him.

“Welp… I don’t.” you shrugged, "Unless you count our disguises as a costume."

“And you’re supposed to be my girlfriend…” he tsked and shook his head in feigned disappointment. Suddenly a mischievous grin tugged on the corners of his lips. “I got an idea for the perfect costume though… and we could probably modify some of your clothes for it…”

„If you say sexy nurse, I’ll hit you,” you warn him, shooting him an unamused glare.

“Ok, no sexy nurse then…” he raises his palms in defeat, “But… I’m sure it would suit you perfectly.”

"Of course, you’d think that…“ you shake your head, rolling your eyes at him.

"I‘m being truthful.” he grins, pulling you closer by your waist. “You‘d look irresistible… but then again you look irresistible in everything." Dean purred into your ear.

"Nice try Romeo.“ you push him away gently but firmly, “I will wear something a little less cliché.”

"Was worth the try…" he shrugged, pecking your lips before letting you go to get ready.

The night at the bar was just what you needed. Dean, Sam and you drank together, bellowing to the music in the bar and indulging in old memories.

Around 3 am Dean and you came back completely hammered. Sam had opted to go home with a girl in a devil costume.

As Dean and you barged into the bunker, you were leaning on each other heavily as you giggled together. You barely made it to your bed when you fell onto the mattress. Dean immediately hugged you close to him, nuzzling into your neck as he took a deep breath. He lazily pressed a few kisses along your neck, making you squirm against him, but his lips stopped just as quickly as they had started. Soft snores resounded from him, his warm breath hitting your skin. But you couldn’t bother, you were already drifting off as well when Miracle suddenly started to growl lowly.

“Mira’ shut up.” you slurred annoyed, but Miracle wouldn’t stop. “Miracle!” you groaned, searching for a pillow around you and throwing it into the darkness.

You heard a dull sound and Miracle fell silent. You could hear him sniff around but soon darkness encased you fully as your drunken mind fell asleep.

"Y/N?" Dean called through the bunker hoarsely when he had finally fallen out of bed.

"I'm in the library," you replied, cradling your pounding head between your hands as you sat at the table. Even the smell of your coffee in front of you made you slightly nauseous. You regretted the last three shots from last night.

There was a moment of silence in which you could hear him waddle towards the library.

"Did you put that creepy doll in the kitchen?! You scared the shit out of me!" Dean’s face was still pale as he entered the library in his bathrobe. You weren’t sure if it was from the hangover or the shock. “Was that your revenge for yesterday? I swear I didn’t put it in your bag!

"I didn't.“ you mumbled slurred, not even bothering to look at Dean as your eyes were closed, „I wouldn’t have touched that thing for a lame revenge like that. Probably was Sam.” you shrugged, “He came back like an hour ago… probably wanted to pay you back.”

"Sammy!" Dean bellowed, already taking off to Sam’s room. You winced at his loud voice and groaned when you heard the brothers start to bicker.

After an agonizing hangover that lasted till late in the evening, you finally felt good enough to help Dean pack for the next morning when he'd leave with Sam. You felt extra clingy tonight even though you knew that they would probably be back in two or three days.

But as the tradition dictated, Dean and you cuddled in bed together before going to sleep.

"When do you have to leave again tomorrow?" you murmured against Dean’s skin as you lay on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"We gonna leave at… like 7.30-ish?" Dean hummed, his hand lazily running up and down your spine.

“That early?” you whined to which Dean chuckled. He softly kissed your forehead, wrapping his arms tighter around you and holding you close.

“The earlier we leave, the earlier we get back,” he mumbled against your neck.

“And how long will you be gone?” you huffed against him.

“A day, maybe two?” Dean hummed, “So you only have a single night without your handsome and wonderful man.” he grinned against your skin, making you chuckle.

“Now that I’m thinking about it, I can probably survive a night without you.” you retorted in feigned annoyance.

“Oh really?” he smirked, starting to tickle your sides.

“Hey! No! Stop!” you started to squirm against him, trying to wriggle away from his attack. Dean grinned triumphantly as he continued to tickle you for a moment before stopping.

“Still think you gonna be fine without me?” he looked at you challengingly.

“More than ever.” you grinned cheekily, biting your lip.

“Don’t be mean now…” Dean murmured, leaning down to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

“Mhm… ok… maybe that’s something I’m gonna miss…” you smiled against his lips.

“Is that so?” Dean smirked smugly, giving you a passionate kiss, “I can remind you of a few more things you gonna miss.” he grinned, swiftly flipping you to lay on the mattress. You yelped in surprise as he towered over you, trailing hungry kisses down your skin, making you gasp in delight.

You groaned softly when you woke up in the middle of the night without seemingly any reason. At first, you thought it was thanks to Dean’s snoring. As you glanced at your alarm clock it was shortly after 3am… again.

It seemed to become a daily occurrence for you to wake up around that time, you just couldn’t understand why. Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard a soft shuffling around your bed. You tensed for a moment, glancing around the room. Your eyes landed on the slightly ajar door that you were sure had been closed when Dean and you went to bed.

You rolled your eyes amused at yourself for being scared for a moment when Miracle had probably just pushed open the door to get to his sleeping spot at the foot of your bed.

You nuzzled back into your pillow, closing your eyes to go back to sleep when there suddenly resounded what could only be described as a giggle. Your eyes widened immediately, and your hands tightened on your blanket.

You swallowed hard as you listened into the darkness.

"Dean!" you whispered. No response. You began to shake him slightly, "Dean, wake up!" you whisper-yelled panicked.

"Hmm… what's wrong." Dean groaned sleepily as he began to stir awake.

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"That giggle!" the fear in your voice was apparent.

"Giggle? Go back to sleep Y/N, your imagination is playing tricks on you."

The floorboards softly creaked making you jump.

"Did you hear that!" you almost shouted.

"Yes, I did. It's just the wood settling, telling you to get some sleep. Nothing more." Dean mumbled, pulling you closer to him before he fell right back to sleep. You rolled your eyes at him.

"Thanks, douchebag…" you muttered, pulling your covers up to your nose and staying alert.

Every creak and crack made you scoot even closer to Dean until you were pressed against him completely. You battled with falling asleep as exhaustion seeped into your bones but once the clock struck 6am the bunker fell silent apart from Dean’s snores. Your eyelids became just too heavy to keep open and soon you were fast asleep.

"Outch!" you cried out, clutching your hip. You were still half asleep when you pottered around in the kitchen. When you had turned around your hip crashed into the open standing cutlery drawer, "For god’s sake Dean! How often do I have to tell you to close these damn drawers!" you hissed in pain at Dean who sat on the table, nursing his coffee. He looked up, startled for a moment.

"I wasn't even near that drawer," he replied groggily, his hand rubbing over his cheek.

"Sure." you grumbled, “That seems to be your standard excuse.”

"No, for real! I only got my coffee. Don’t need cutlery for that." he defended himself and held up his cup. You narrowed your eyes at him.

"Don't give me that look Y/N!" Dean warned you jokingly, "I swear, I'm telling the truth. Maybe you opened it in your delirium and forgot about it."

"Maybe." you grumbled as you took a spoon out of the drawer and closed it, "But you can't blame me. I slept awful."

"Why? Didn’t I tire you out enough?” Dean smirked into his mug, “You seemed really exhausted when we fell asleep…”

“Sometimes I wanna smack your pretty face…” you sighed, shooting Dean an unamused glare, "I woke up in the middle of the night because I thought that I had heard somebody or something shuffling through the house. There was creaking and giggling the whole night."

"Giggling?" Dean drawled amused, raising a brow at you.

" I know it sounds weird but I know what I’ve heard.”

“Maybe it was just the whistling of the wind or something like that." Dean shrugged dismissively, “Maybe Miracle whined in his sleep."

"Cause I can’t tell the difference between a dog whine and a giggling sound?" you scoffed, “Miracle wasn’t even in our room last night cause of certain activities…”

“Maybe you were making up things in your post-blissful haze.” Dean grinned cheekily, immediately receiving a hit against his shoulder, “Ow!” he chuckled, “Why are you being so mean to me lately?”

“I’m not mean! You’re just a dick at the moment.”

“Am not!” Dean protested amused, rubbing his arm, “You’ve been on my case ever since we returned from our hunt.”

“Because you started the war with the doll!”

“I didn’t do that!” Dean laughed, “But maybe that’s why you’re so jumpy. Your subconsciousness still tries to get over that little scare.”

"I’m a hunter, Dean. Spooky shit is my daily bread, so I doubt that a little doll could scare me into hallucinating sounds at night.” you scoffed, “And it's not like I was dreaming. I was wide awake!"

"So, you wanna tell me some creature scampered through the bunker last night?” Dean looked at you sceptically, “I would’ve heard it as well. I mean, I was right next to you… Wait a minute… is that why you tried to wake me up last night? It feels like we talked about this already."

"Yeah… and you jackass fell right back asleep.” you huffed, “You wouldn’t have heard a fire alarm over your snoring!”

“I don’t snore!” Dean scoffed offended.

“Oh trust me, you do.” you huffed dramatically, “And yes, I know, there wasn't anybody scampering around… I just. I don't know, ok? Something just felt… off."

"It was probably the wood settling over the night. The nights are getting colder now, the wood draws together.” Dean reasoned, gently rubbing your arm up and down in a soothing motion.

"Presumably…" you mumbled unconvinced.

"And the most plausible," Dean added with a shit-eating grin.

"Bite me!" you quipped, glaring at him as you shrugged off his hand.

"You know, only in our bedroom!" he called after you with a cheeky grin as you walked out of the kitchen, flipping him off.

When the boys left the bunker to drive down to Bobby, you left with them through the garage, saying your goodbye to them before heading in the other direction towards the town to get some groceries so you wouldn’t have to get takeout yet again. Sam, Dean, and you had been almost exclusively on the road for the last couple of months, so the pantry looked quite meagre while other chores had piled up around the bunker. You would have to get to them as soon as you came back from grocery shopping and running a few errands as well.

Around noon you finally found yourself back at the bunker, the trunk of your car filled with multiple bags and the dry cleaning you had picked up on your way. Dean and Sam had the bad habit of wearing their suits until they started to reek and would bring almost every suit they owned to the dry cleaning at once. Usually, you refused to bring or pick up the clothes since it was hard to carry the 10+ suits back and forth but you actually had to pick up a coat of your own, so you tried to be a doting girlfriend and friend for once and picked all of the clothes up.

Just as you killed the engine and tried to figure out how you could carry everything inside without having to take too many trips, your phone began to ring.

"Perfect timing, Mister Winchester." you chuckled as you accepted the call.

"Just came home?" his raspy voice resounded from the speakers. He sounded tired.

"Yup, had a busy day already. How’s the trip going? Taking a break?”

"Sammy had to stretch out his freakishly long legs.” Dean hummed and you could hear a muffled ‘Hey!’ in the background.

“But traffic’s ok?”

“So far, it’s been a breeze. We almost passed the halfway mark, we should get to Bobby around 6pm if we’re lucky.” Dean hummed.

“Where are you right now?” you asked curiously, getting out of the car to walk around to the back.

“Somewhere in the middle of Missouri… I think.”

“How’s it there? Any better than in Kansas?” you tried to keep Dean talking, already missing his voice. You pinned your phone between your ear and your shoulder as you opened the trunk and got the first few bags out of it, walking towards the bunker's main entrance.

“Slightly better weather-wise but I'd much rather be with you right now," Dean murmured into your ear.

"Aw, you're sweet. I'd love that too… then I wouldn't have to carry in all these suits that I picked up at the dry-cleaner's and all these groceries on my own." Dean only snickered on the other end of the line, “We really have to get them cleaned in more reasonable batches instead of every single suit you guys have been wearing till they smell.”

"So, what do you have planned for tonight?" Dean tried to change the subject.

"Not much," you said while fishing for your keys in your coat pocket while balancing the grocery bags on your leg, "Maybe do some of my laundry.”

Dean could hear you unlock the front door and suddenly you screamed and there was a thud.

"Y/N?" Dean asked concerned, his brows furrowing as he listened attentively for any sounds.

"Dean what the heck! Was that necessary?" you panted into the speaker as you picked up your phone from the ground.

"Was what necessary?" he asked confused.

"Don't act so innocent. You have to stop with those pranks!" you laughed, your heart still racing, "You scared the shit out of me. Again. Congratulations!"

"…and with what exactly?" Dean chuckled bemused.

"The doll you sat directly behind the door?"

"Ahh… erm… yeah. Got you!" he forced a laugh. Hadn’t he thrown that weird thing out before they went to the bar 2 days ago? Maybe Miracle had found it in the trash outside and dragged it back inside.

"Ok?" you raised an eyebrow and kicked the doll out of your way, "Moving on. Please remember to tell Cas that he has to come by the next couple of days for the translation of the Enochian we found." you carried the bags towards the kitchen.

“Why me?” Dean grumbled.

“Cause Cas only answers your calls…” you hummed amused. Dean sighed exasperated.

"Yes, sweetheart, I will." he groaned.

The rest of the day you busied yourself with the chores. You started a load of your and Dean’s sheets while tidying your shared room, vacuuming, and dusting off every surface. Afterwards, you busied yourself with restocking the pantry and cleaning out the fridge from unidentifiable containers of what arguably had been food at some point in time.

After cooking yourself a late dinner you let yourself fall into a recliner in the Dean cave. Miracle joined you, getting a few bites of your pasta dish as the two of you watched a movie. In the middle of the movie, your phone vibrated, notifying you of a goodnight text from Dean and the info that he and Sam were on their way back to the bunker and should be back around noon. You quickly send back your reply before stashing the phone into the side of the recliner and turning your attention back to the movie.

You didn’t even realise how tired you were until you woke up in the middle of the night to a completely dark room. The TV must’ve shut off a while ago and Miracle was nowhere to be seen.

You sighed as you tried to wake up enough to get up and wander back to your room. That’s when you realised that you had forgotten to put the sheets back onto the bed after you had washed them and put them into the dryer. You groaned and shuffled in the opposite direction to the laundry room. You didn’t bother turning on the lights, hoping you would be able to fall asleep quicker if you didn’t get blinded by the harsh lights of the bunker.

As you gathered all the sheets out of the dryer you hummed in delight as the scent of freshly washed laundry filled your nose. You couldn’t wait to fall asleep while being encased in this heavenly smell. Your thoughts were rudely interrupted when Mircale suddenly started to bark out of nowhere.

“What is it, Miracle?” you called out annoyed. Maybe he was scolding you for not being in your room when he wanted to sleep, “I’ll be there in a sec…”

You were a little confused when his barking turned into growls and snarls.

“Miracle, what’s your deal?” you groaned.

Your heart stopped beating for a moment, your eyes widening as you froze in the doorway. You swallowed hard and tried to pull yourself together. This probably was just a nightmare. Or as Dean would tell you right now, just the wood settling. Very amused Wood being in a giggly mood…

You felt a chill run down your spine when you heard it again.

The giggling.

“H-hello?” you asked into the darkness, thinking that maybe Dean had already talked to Cas who had come by.

But you never got a response. And usually, Miracle wouldn’t snarl at Cas either, nor would Cas sound like a giggling toddler. So, this was more than odd.

Your stomach felt queasy as you crept up towards your room cautiously. Your heart was dancing tango in your chest. Suddenly you heard pitter-patter grow louder behind you and without another thought you booked it to your room, not even looking back. As soon as you reached your room, Miracle scurried in after you and you slammed the bedroom door close.

You panted as adrenaline shot through and your brain was slowly processing what just had happened. You began chuckling and shook your head amused.

“Miracle, you scared me.” you chuckled slightly relieved and a bit amused that you got scared that easily when a sudden slam against the door made your heart sink again.

You quickly locked the door, backing away immediately and stumbling backwards a few steps until the back of your knees hit the mattress. You threw the washed sheets onto the bed, your eyes never leaving the door as you searched for Dean’s emergency blade under the bed. Once you had the knife secured in your hand you searched for your phone in desperation. It slowly dawned on you that you had forgotten your phone on the recliner, so you had no chance of calling the boys for support. But then again, they probably couldn’t help you in your situation right now anyway since they were still thousands of miles away from the bunker. All you could do was wait it out until they came back and stand on guard.

At some point during the night, you gathered the courage to slide a chair under the handle of the door before you sat down on your bed again. You didn’t hear anything anymore outside of the door, but you didn’t trust the silence one bit. You invited Miracle into the bed for emotional support. Dean would kill you if he found out that you had let the dog sleep in bed with you, but you didn’t really care right now.

Harsh pounding against the door jerked you awake. You had no idea how late it was or when you had fallen asleep. You almost fell to the ground when you scrambled out of bed.

“Darling? Y/N?! Are you in there?” Dean’s worried voice resounded from the other side of the door, the handle turning frantically as he continued to knock against the door.

You quickly scurried to the door and pulled the chair away before you opened the door, trying to act as nonchalant as possible.

“You’re back.” you tried to sound enthusiastic, but the grogginess was quite apparent on your face.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Dean asked worried, grabbing your shoulders as he inspected you, “What happened? Why did you lock yourself in our room? You look pale.”

“N-nothing.” you stammered sheepishly. You didn’t want to tell Dean what had happened. He probably wouldn’t believe you and tell you that you had probably just imagined it again. Or he’d turn it around and tease you about ‘how much you had missed him’ and that ‘your strong, handsome man was back to protect you from bad dreams again’. And you really didn’t need that right now, especially with the lack of proper sleep.

“Look who we brought,” Sam announced suddenly, making you sigh relieved as the conversation was stirred away from you when Sam stepped aside to reveal Cas tagging along behind him.

“You look awful.” Cas greeted you in his monotone voice.

“Hi, Cas… nice to see you, too.”

Taglist: @hellowgoodbye @fuckyoutommie @loz-3 @whorefordean @kayful00595 @drasticemotions @deans-spinster-witch @tweakingin2 @winharry @jackles010378 @marvelfanfn2187a113

Divider by @talesmaniac89

#dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #jensen ackles #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction

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luci-is-a-bitch-x3x · 4 months

Text

Obey me! Brothers with an Innocent Mc:

━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━

Welcome! to this adventure! The characters may not be how you imagine! I apologize for any poor jokes, bad spelling, and terrible grammar. This is kinda like the demon behaviors but like different I think idk tbh. Without further ado, please enjoy the content. ♡

Caution: May contain dark themes or imply towards dark themes. May contain nsfw or it may imply towards nsfw themes.

━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━

Innocent Mc who jumps up and down when their excited. They only do it because they have so much energy and excitement! Living with demons however makes it not as innocent. Everyone of the brothers caught on to Mc's habit very quickly. They'll play it off as liking to see Mc happy and excited, but in reality they love the way Mc's body moves while they jump around excitedly. The jiggle their body makes when they land a jump. The way Mc's shirt rises a little when they jump into the air. The brothers are usually never focused on Mc's excitement, usually their eyes are trained on Mc's body. Making sure they get to watch every jiggle and get to see every inch of Mc's skin they can. Mc's none the wiser, thinking the brothers are just being nice, caring about Mc and their happiness.

Innocent Mc who shakes their body out of happiness when they eat something they like or eat after being hungry for to long. They cant help it! The foods just so good they have to move their body! The brothers never seem to mind, instead the Brothers always seem to be the ones giving Mc their favorite foods. "You just look so happy when you eat it Mc" its definitely not because they like the way Mc's ass shakes when they do their little happy dance. No that'd be wrong of them, and they are perfectly behaved demons, as far as Mc knows.

Innocent Mc who just loves swimming, the brothers must love swimming too with how often they take Mc swimming! Mc genuinely believes the brothers press against Mc when their in the water, so that Mc doesn't drown. The brother is just holding Mc up, keeping Mc safe is all! Mc who believes the brothers everytime one of them touches their body, naively believing the brother is fixing their swimming garments. The brothers are never actually fixing Mc's swim wear, really they just want to feel the humans bare skin, Mc being wet from their recent swim only adds to the brothers desires to touch the oblivious human.

Innocent Mc who knows that in the human world different places have many different customs, so the Brothers cant be lying when they tell Mc about odd customs the Devildom has. Mc has to do the odd customs, they are a guest on the Devildom after all! It starts with "customs" that the brothers might be able to pull off with enough brainstorming and gaslighting. They never had to brainstorm a plan or gaslight as Mc was none the wiser from the begging. The first few customs were things such as: Mc has to tell them where they are at all times, Mc most likely isn't even allowed out without a brother beside them. Mc has to tell the brothers who they talk to. The brothers get to control whos around Mc, its for Mc's safety. It's mostly because the Brothers don't want to share Mc, nobody else needs to be around Mc and taking up Mc's time. The first few "customs" are there for "Mc's saftey" but in reality it closes Mc in. The only thing Mc has, knows, and is around is the brothers and who the brothers allow Mc to be around. The customs just get weirder and weirder from then on, as soon as the brothers realized Mc was to naive to see what they were doing they took full advantage of it. "Oh Mc, its a custom for a guest to sit on the home owners lap" they'll say its because Mc stays in HoL for free and the brothers keep them safe! Its like the brothers payment. The brothers all work together to make Mc do some odd "customs" as well. Like they would be convincing Mc that on a certain day every week sometime in the weekend probs its a custom for everyone to strip down to their undergarments, for a "relaxation day" or some excuse like that. All the brothers participate, they just want to see Mc in their undergarments too much to not participate in the lie.

Each brother may have their own lies they convince Mc are customs. Belphie may tell Mc that in the Devildom it's a custom to sleep naked, yes even if you're taking a nap with someone Mc! Belphie loves being snuggled up to Mc when neither of them have clothes on, and Mc didn't even take that much convincing to belive his little lie! Asmo convinces Mc that bathing together is a custom in the Devildom. I can see all the brothers saying this but Asmo is def the worst about it. Asmo tells Mc bathing together and washing eachother is great bonding, and that lots of demons do it! Asmo may get a little feely when he washes Mc, he'll tell them that washing this way is how all demons wash themselves, he'll even get them to wash him similarly. Satan convinces Mc that the pet bed he has beside his bed or his favorite reading spot is normal, and that Mc has to sit there because its safer for them. Its a custom for some Devildom furniture to be made unsafe for human use. The pet bed is the only human safe furniature Satan could find that looked comfy! Lucifer convinces Mc that refering to him as things like: sir, master, or daddy, is normal because he's the oldest in the household. In the Devildom its like a form of respect, his brother don't do it because they aren't guests in the house Mc. He'll even add the whole family gets to respect him differently then others, he just loves hearing those words come out of Mc's mouth. Beel convinces Mc that its normal for someone to lick food off of someone else. In the Devildom things are different, demons are close like that, its not weird that Beel licked that whipped cream of you're chest Mc, demons sometimes purposely put food on each other to lick it off for bonding! Some excuse like that, allows Beel to constantly put some type of food on Mc's body so that he can lick it off right after. Levi somehow convinces Mc that its a custom for people to touch each other the way he touches them. Its a game Mc! Its like the Devildom's version of play fighting! ..just with a lot more groping and grinding, you're bodies absolutely must be touching in this game! As close as possible! The moment Levi's letting out weird sounds, is getting all flustered, and his body jolts and jitters, well thats when Mc wins of course! Mc always seems to win at this game, and Mc never seems to notice Levi's pants are always stained after playing. Mammon convinces Mc that its normal for their "first" man to do things that the others aren't allowed to do. This includes all kinds of different things but some of the main ones are that Mammons allowed to be with Mc anywhere, anytime, no matter what. Mc's changing? Mammons there convincing Mc its normal to watch. Mc's in the bathroom? Mammons in the bathroom too, he'll at least be nice enough to not watch during these times, but hes still in the bathroom, just facing towards the door while Mc does their business. Mc's sleeping? Mammon can sit at the end of Mc's bed watching them sleep until hes tired! There is no privacy when it comes to Mammon, hes Mc's first! Mc doesnt need privacy from him! Hes here to protect and experience all Mc's firsts with them! He cant give his brothers a chance to have a moment with Mc thats hes never had.

━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━

Thats all for now babes! Hope you enjoyed!! ♡ This is not proofread. Feel free to comment or reblog any thoughts or any add ons you have! This has been in my drafts forever so hopefully its good man. Let me know if I should try and do more parts or this or not. Anyways more content will be coming soon so Stay Tuned! Stay Safe! & Stay Groovy Scooby!

━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━

⟡˙⋆Masterlist⋆˙⟡

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ladylooch · 9 months

Note

First off, congrats! You’re such a fantastic writer and I look forward to all your posts! Could you write something about when guys do that thing where they use their body to their advantage? Like oh its crowded in this club? I’m just going to back you up against this wall with my big body since there’s no room. Or oh! You want a drink at the bar? Better plaster myself against you so the bartender will notice us better! Can’t reach something up high? Oh I’ll just stand literally right behind you and grab it for you! Just always seems to be in your space and you can’t tell if he’s doing it on purpose (yes) or not but it’s driving you crazy that he won’t make a move until you finally get him alone and give him a taste of his own medicine. Use your favorite big guy!

A/N: Thank you so much!!! I had to use Miles for this one.. I feel like he would have no problem using his wide shoulders and overall big, boy body to keep you safe at a crowded bar…. While driving you batty.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Implied smut, a lil angsty?, swearing, jealousy

Your intention when you and your friend, Miles, walked in was to head directly to the bar. But the huge, U shaped structure is completely stacked with people. Grass and bamboo are lit up by multicolored lights from low hanging Tiki figurines. It is Saturday night in the Fall, so you’re not sure why you’re surprised to see it so busy. Your steps falter as your eyes scan for an open space at the massive bar. Miles puts a hand on the small of your back when someone tries to sneak between the two of you.

“We are together.” Miles tells the dude. Your heart patters heavily in your chest at the way he says it. For a moment, you even let yourself pretend it’s real. But it’s not. You and Miles have been friends for far too long and his taste in women is nothing like you. Why be disappointed and ruin the friendship when you know it isn’t going to work?

“Gotta plaster you to my chest in here, damn.” Miles mutters down to you.

“We should just go. It’s too busy.” Your anxiety is already starting to get the best of you. Your fingers delicately rest on the hollow of your throat, heart rate increasing below your touch.

“No, you’ve been wanting to come here and now we are. We at least need to get a drink.” You gesture to the wall of people you’ve come to.

“How?”

“Follow me.” He weaves your hands together and begins to assertively press forward. You are shocked at how easily people move for him. Miles flirts and smiles and appeases his way forward. Nothing about him is aggressive, but the sea of people willingly shift for you both to go through. He has this way with people. It’s why you fell so easily for him. When he gets to the bar, he moves to the side for you to slip through. “See? Easy.”

“Okay well some of us aren’t loaded down with muscle and 6’2.”

The person next to Miles get up and leaves. He pounces on the seat and brings it over for you, gesturing for you to sit. You smile in thanks, perching yourself on it while he comes behind you. He is so close, you can feel the heat from his chest on your back. His pecs rub slightly against you as he reaches for the drink list. He skims it fast, then shakes his head.

“These are weird ass drinks.”

“That is kind of the point of the place. They all come in tiki styled cups and have like edible glitter in them or the whole drink is smoking.” He shakes his head.

“Can I get a Coors Light? Or are you going to be upset?” You roll your eyes.

“You’re such a hockey player.” He chuckles, showing his toothless grin. His big shoulders shrug.

“You love me anyway.” It’s so casual, but your brain grabs the memory, tucking it away for when you’re alone later.

Someone wants to sneak behind Miles, so he moves even closer to you until his chest is plastered completely along your back. Your eyes close, savoring his warmth and security. The full touch of him eases the remaining anxiety you had when you walked in. The bartender, a blonde with a bubbly personality and perfect eyebrows, comes to grab your order. She’s instantly flirty with Miles, who can’t help himself and flirts back. You gnaw on your bottom lip in irritation, scanning the drinks. You try to read them, but nothing is connecting. All you feel is hot anger in your abdomen, twisting your intestines until you feel queasy.

“I’ll have a Coors Light. What do you want?” He rubs a hand along your upper back, keeping his fingers on your shoulder. He presses his thumb into the place he knows you constantly have a knot. His touch makes the bartender back off, settling more into a professional friendly than before. Only the slight falter of her smile indicated the switch.

“Um, I’ll do the passionate paloma.” You chuckle as you say it, pushing the drink menu away.

“Great choice!” She walks off. Miles slowly glides his fingers down your arm until his hand is removed completely from you. Large TV’s fill the space above the bar that show cool, silent films of colorful, tropical locations. It’s all in ultra 4k HD. if you focus on it completely, you almost believe you’re there. The heat from all the people inside raises the temperature compared to the coolness outside in New Jersey.

“Cool vibe.” Miles says, leaning his mouth close to your ear. Your eyelashes flutter at the way his breath moves the baby hairs at your temple. Fuck, does he have any idea what this is doing to you? He seems so unaffected. Are the feelings really this one sided?

A man squeezes into the small space left empty by the stool Miles grabbed for you. Your polite smile gives him a greeting, then you turn back to watch the bartenders hustle in front of you. You’re pretty sure working here would be your own personal hell.

“Wow, so many choices.” The man says, gesturing to the large, long menu.

“Yeah, I had a hard time choosing.”

“What did you get?”

“A paloma. I love tequila.”

“Me too! And they supposedly have high-end stuff that’s hard to import from Mexico.”

“Really? Show me.” He runs through the list, pointing out the three different tequilas he knows are hard to come by. His arm brushes against yours while you also feel Miles ghost his fingers along your other arm. You resist the urge to shiver, but goosebumps still dart down your whole body.

“If you’re interested, and up for being out late, I know this great tequila bar a few blocks from here.”

“Hey bud, your date looks kinda bored over there.” Miles cuts in, nodding in the direction the guy came. He starts to give Miles a “butt out” look then takes in his full, massive form behind me. He must think better of it because he doesn’t try to extend the conversation further.”

“That was rude.” I snap at Miles when he walks away.

“He was being rude. Why do guys think women are around only for their entertainment?”

“What? We were making small talk.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

“Well you’re behind me.”

“Here.” He taps your hips for you to get up. You stand and he sits down on the stool, pulling you onto his big thigh. You stumble a bit, needing to clutch his shoulder for balance. Your legs are turned between his and his wide stance supports your full weight easily. “Now we can talk.” He smiles. You stare wordlessly at him as his hand makes a home on your left hip.

“Here you go!” The bartender sets your drinks down, then rushes off to the next group. You hand Miles his boring beer bottle. Your drink is in a plastic coconut with a striped pink and teal straw. It’s garnished with a slice of grapefruit and a purple flower. You cheese excitedly at him, taking your phone out to snap a picture. You wiggle around a bit while doing so. Miles clears his throat, adjusting slightly on the seat with a heavy breath.

“You okay?” You ask him.

“Mhm.” He takes two long gulps of his beer, then exhales heavily again.

“Why are you so weird tonight?” You blurt out.

“I’m not?”

“You are.”

“Is that lipstick new?” He suddenly tries to change the subject.

“See? What is that!”

“I don’t know. I’m on edge a bit, I guess.” He shakes his head, sliding his fingers on your hip so they splay down your thigh more. Your stomach flip flops at the awareness of his fingers tips so close to intimate areas.

“How did your date go the other night?” Miles has been on and off Raya the last few months. Every time he is off, he spends every single day he can with you. But he inevitable goes back on to “see what new fish there are”. It shouldn’t bother you, but it does. Talking about this will easily distract you from his fingers.

“Won’t be seeing her again.” He rolls his eyes, sighing heavily again. His lips tilt his beer back for another long sip.

“Not pretty enough?” His eyes meet yours.

“No.” He drags the word out. “She was beautiful. Just… not for me. I’m off the apps again. For good this time.” You cock an amused eyebrow. “I’m serious.” He says, drawing a circle on your thigh with his thumb. “Gonna focus on finding something real.”

“You’re great. You’ll find someone.” You hesitantly reach up for his hair, pushing his stray hairs back into place. Miles’ eyes close briefly before they open again, a little softer and sweeter.

“Hey, my mom is coming to town this weekend. You around for brunch? Maybe dinner at that tapas place too?”

“Yeah! I love Cheryl.”

“She loves you too.” He smiles. “How is your drink?”

“Good. Wanna sip?” He winces at the idea of tequila. “It’s good tequila. Not shit.”

“Ooooo that is good.” He murmurs after taking a sip. “Gimme more.” He sucks up another two sips before you rip the drink out of his hand.

“Drink your shitty beer and be sad.” You laugh.

“I’m getting that next. Don’t tell the boys.”

You end up sticking around for another couple of drinks. The place eventually dies down a bit, but you both start to get hungry. At the end of the block is a pizza by the slice shop. You both grab a massive slice of their famous buffalo chicken pizza then decide it’s time to call it a night. Miles has practice tomorrow morning and is leaving in the afternoon on a quick, two day road trip. As you are walking back to your apartment, you still past a country bar where music filters out onto the sidewalk to you. Miles, a huge country music buff, stops you. His head falls back, groaning at the stars.

“I love this song. You have to dance with me.” He reaches for your fingers that have spent more time in his today than ever before. You listen, recognizing the slow cords of a guitar and the deep, steady tone of Luke Combs’ voice.

“And if your touch, shattered me like glass.” Miles sings. The hand holding yours lifts while his other wraps around your hips. He pulls you close, so your temple brushes against his jaw as he leans his head towards yours. “Even if I knew the day we met you’d be the reason this heart breaks…. Oh I’d love you anyway.” You can’t help but lean into him further. He reacts by tightening his grip on you.

You know you shouldn’t. It’s so dangerous to do this, but you still let yourself pretend.

You imagine this is a date. That when you get back to your place, he’s going to come in. He will follow you into your bedroom, clothes littering the floor, before he will lay you down and love you like the words in this song suggest.

“There’s just some things that leave a man no choice.” Miles breaks through your thoughts. His voice sounds great combined with the cords of the song and Luke fading into the background.

“Get the fuck off the sidewalk, morons.” Someone snaps as they walk by, making Miles and you jolt.

“Fucking Jersey.” Miles rolls his eyes as the guy continues on. His blue eyes glare at the man’s retreating back. You step away from his embrace completely, shivering at the windy bite that digs into your body at the disappearance of Miles’ body heat.

“I love this song too.” You say to break some of the tension away.

The rest of the walk is a blur. You’re lost in your thoughts, wondering why tonight feels so different. Miles has always been flirty and touchy, but this seems so different. It’s almost like he can’t stop himself from touching you. Or maybe this is all a hopeful illusion created by your love-sick heart and willing mind?

“Where ya going?” Miles asks, fingers lacing with yours to stop your next step. You glance up, realizing you’re at your apartment. He chuckles, tugging your fingers to lead you into the lobby. He holds your hand the entire elevator ride and down to your front door. Right as you pull your keys out, he envelopes you into his arms. It’s a deep, secure hug. You cup the large muscles of his back, breathing in the delicious scent of his cologne. It assaults your senses, making a happy bubble fill your chest and relax your body. This is too good. You’re losing hold of the reality that you’re just friends.

“Miles, you’re killing me.” You sigh, closing your eyes. You can’t help it. He’s been in your space all night and you are losing your god damn mind about it. Slowly, his head tilts down to stare into your eyes. The desire there is unmistakable. Blue, stormy waves of need for you.

“Please let me kiss you.” He swallows hard. “All night, I’ve been dying to taste this lipstick that I know is new.” His thumb ghosts along your bottom lip, gathering some of the color onto his skin. “I can’t stop thinking about why you bought it… or for who.”

For him, of course it was for him.

You look up at his plumped lips, dying for them to touch yours. So you jump, leaping off into a life-altering decision before you can talk yourself out of it again.

“I bought it for you.” You confess, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck. You crash his lips to yours hard. His hand instantly threads through the hair at the base of your neck, cradling your head as he tips you back to deepen the kiss. His tongue rolls around your mouth, touching every bit of it with the wet muscle. A moan hits his mouth from yours. He pulls away, but you launch yourself further into him, not letting him catch his breath. You want him as breathless as he’s made you all damn night. Your arms hold his shoulders as your keys boop against his back.

Whatever you thought this would be like with him has been shattered to smithereens. It’s better. So much fucking better.

You’re obliterated by the taste of him when you pull away. Your eyes lift to meet his, not sure how you’re going to live the rest of your life knowing he tastes this good and not having him.

“I have been wanting to do that for so long.”

“Why didn’t you?” You groan, gripping his shirt into a fist.

“Because I love you so much and I’m terrified to lose you. I’m such a fuck up with women. You know.”

“You love me?” It’s breathless, unbelievable as you repeat the words he again, so casually just said to you.

“Of course I do.” He looks down at your fingers as he plays with them by your hip. He is so vulnerable. Your throat tightens, wondering if it’s possible you’re still pretending like you had been during your dancing interlude. You wait until he gathers the courage to look at you.

“Miles, I love you too.” Relief sags his shoulders and he goes in for another kiss. This one is more patient, taking the time to explore his new territory further.

“And everything else before this hasn’t worked out for you because you haven’t been with me.” You assure him, then tug him back down to your mouth with his shirt.

“I’ve wanted it to be you. So many times.” He murmurs into your kisses. You hold his face with both of your hands as your tongues tangle together. You can’t help but smile at his words. His lips connect with your teeth. He pulls slightly back, admiring your blissed out look below him. “You gonna let me come in? Maybe get into something more comfortable.” Your body stills. Oh my GOD. “I’m dying to finish Outer Banks.” You sigh, rolling your eyes and slapping at his chest. He laughs with a honk. “Maybe my hands end up in your pants. I don’t know.”

“They better.” You tell him, shoving your keys into the door and walking into your place. Miles begins to walk down the hall, taking his shirt off as he goes. You frown, pointing to the living room. “Miles, I don’t have a TV in my bedroom.”

“I know.” He calls down to you as you hear his jeans hit the floor.

Oh.

#Miles Wood #Miles Wood Blurb #Miles Wood X Reader #My writing #hockey writing #NHL fan fiction #NHL imagine #colorado avalanche

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deathbecomesthem · 2 months

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Bite Me, Please - 1 of ?

Vampire!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader | 1.4K

Summary: You're a little boozy, and he's watching you. For @jo-harrington @fracturedarkness and @loveshotzz - I'm working on this. Maybe. We'll see.

Warnings: Stalking? He's a vampire. Drunkenness. Implied danger. Future parts have smut and violence.

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It’s g&t times three, and the room is starting to move in strange ways around you. The spins are sneaking up, but you beat them back and confront them with the cold water you’re sucking through the 3 small cocktail straws at your lips. Condensation is pooling at your fingertips; it’s sticky out. You started too early. You’ve been running from the ache inside by numbing it with the clear liquid. Each sip less bitter than the last, the booze in your gut spreading it’s fingers through your body.

“Hey, you ok?” You stumble, meet the sharp shoulder of a girl while you’re focusing on keeping one foot in front of the other. Your bladder is heavy, and ready to let go. You don’t know where they went, the people that said they needed you, begged you to come to the pub. Drink with them. Make sure they weren’t left alone drunk and stumbling around at 11:00 on a Wednesday night.

You never answer the girl, afraid that the 3 g&ts and 3 glasses of water would accompany the words you’d try to give her. That’s a gift she could live without. Besides, you’re focused on that door at the far end of the bar, behind which you will find the little room with a sink and toilet that can help you hide your shame. As you approach the black metal door, you reach for the lever handle and find it stays firm in its position.

Occupied. Fuck.

Even while you’re bladder aches, you feel that thing you’ve been trying to ignore. Not ignore, but simply not notice. As you stand at the end of the bar waiting for the person to exit the bathroom after their important task, fucking – shitting – pissing – snorting, your distracted and let it happen. You let your eyes wander to find the source of the fire that’s been at the back of your neck. You can feel the blood in your neck. It’s dancing, moving with the beat of the song that’s playing in the speaker at your side.

His face is hidden in shadow, dark sockets hide his gaze from you. Until the light of the moon, filtered through the smoke glazed window, kisses his eyes. You are held there, staring into those shining orbs. A voice, wordless and whispers in your mind. His voice.

Locked in his gaze, the room shrinks. You cannot move your legs. You cannot move your eyes from. Even when the door swings open, releasing a group of laughing girls in short skirts and high heels. The last girl jostles you with her heavy bag, must be books in there, and you look down. A sense of loss, inexplicable and growing, swims through your chest. The connection is broken. You turn to the door, remembering your bladder is on the verge of emptying in front of the crowd of coeds lined up for shots.

Relief moves through your body like a warm hug as you hover over that porcelain throne and release your ache. A brief moment of satisfaction before the anxiety creeps into the places inside that are now empty. Get out, an imperative lingering in the back of your head. You forget the germs, those microscopic boogeymen that can’t be seen with the naked eye, as you dip your head under the tap and let your head brush the bowl of the sink while cool water runs over your neck. Sober, even a little, so you can walk to your house, lock the door, and find a soft surface to collapse onto.

It's easier to do the thing, put one foot in front of the other, move without running your body into the other people scattering around the smoke filled room. You check twice with your hand, touching your purse, ensuring your wallet and keys are inside before you let yourself move through the front door and down the steps. Onto the street, the thick summer air begins to claw at your throat.

Oh, so much regret. You should have gone home first to shed the tight skirt and button up blouse before meeting your friends at the pub, but it seemed unnecessary at the time. Mindlessly, you reach down to relieve the pain of the tight shoes that dig into your feet, pulling the straps and letting them breathe in the cool air. The concrete feels cool on your soles. The sharp pain of small stones on the bottom of your feet brings you back to earth. It pushes those thoughts, strange and unnerving, out of your head. Every step you take brings you closer to sober. Closer to your home. You can feel the alcohol burning through your system and escaping your skin, and out of your pores.

You feel it, you’ve been feeling it since you stepped foot out of that smokey bathroom, the bass of the music from the speaker of the bar beating through your chest. That heat on your back. Him. His gaze. His eyes. His voice in your head, whispering. Telling you things you can’t quite hear. You don’t dare turn this time. You can’t let him catch you again with his gaze. If you see his eyes again, you’ll be lost. You watch the moon instead, a sorry replacement for his eyes. Move forward. You focus on the blue light, the cool air, the stones.

Every step brings you closer to your house. Every step brings him closer to you. A double-edged sword sitting at your neck, ready to draw blood. Every beat of your heart is an invitation to him. Your breath shudders, a tear at your throat for reasons you don’t understand. He marked you in that bar, the flash of his eyes branding you forever. An impossible thing that is truer than anything you’ve ever felt in your life.

It’s him, and it’s you. Deep inside you know, now that the alcohol has evaporated into the air around you, you want this as much as he needs it. You feel your jugular, pressing against the too thin skin of your neck. It’s calling to him. You’re calling to him. He’s so close. His hand can reach out and touch you. Wipe the tear from your cheek. Your body deceives you, you weep for him. If you could will your feet to still, he would be on you. One half of a step behind your back.

He can have you. You want him to take you. He was dressed in shadows in the pub, but now he’s whispering to you. You need to understand him. Need to let him consume whatever piece of you he wants. He needs. You want to see that dark hair frame the perfect features you’ve not yet had the pleasure to study up close.

The smell of home, your roses, tickle your nose. They greet you, familiar friends at your door step. You’ve been too focused on the thing a your back during your journey. You’re home already. The warm glow of your kitchen light shining through the bay window next to the door that would be your savior. Your safety. Your protection from the thing behind you.

You don’t turn back, you bring the key to the lock and push it into its home. Turn the key, the spindle releases, and the cool air blasts into your face. The air conditioning a luxury you let yourself indulge in during the oppressive heat of late summer. You enter slower than normal, one foot at a time. You wonder, you hope, a hand might stop you. Might pull you from the safety of your home and bring you back into the night. Might turn you to look into those deep pools again. Let you get lost forever. You still hear his voice, indistinct save for one word. Mine.

When your feet are on the carpet of your living room, inside the door that separates home from the outside world, you turn to look upon him. The fear is gone and replaced by the need to see, but instead of eyes you see his back. Leather and denim retreating into the shadow of the large maple in your front yard. He’s leaving you. Alone

Tomorrow, you’ll go back to the pub. Tomorrow, you’ll let your eyes get lost in him. Tomorrow, you’ll let him have what he needs. You are his.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #vampire!eddie munson #eddie munson au #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x fem!reader

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drsugarsweet · 2 months

Text

Holding On To Smoke

Haunted Armor!Polnareff x Reader

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Synopsis: Through a stroke of good fortune, you have been placed in charge of an antique home. The former owners only asked that you kept the relics inside, and you agreed. If only they had mentioned that some of the relics aren't as lifeless as they initially seemed...

TW: Implied character death (not reader’s) Note: reader is GN, no pronouns aside from 'you' are used.

Masterlist ☆。*。☆。

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A/N: Polnareff is SUCH a sad grieving beast, this only felt appropriate for him.

The home that you've come to enjoy for so many months is old, much older than you. It's full of items you're scared to touch for fear of shattering their delicate nature, of spiderwebs that look too beautiful to break and rooms that you haven't even stepped foot into. There simply isn't enough time or motivation for you to cover all of that ground, and yet…

And yet you notice small oddities that you can't fully explain away. There's odd clanking in the halls that sounds far too consistent to be the pipes. After all, they only rattle when you draw water from them. The rooms you frequent are miraculously free of dust even though you haven't had the time to drag out the duster and rags yourself. It’s hard to chalk up the cold and pointed breezes as a simple draft, and you swear you’ve seen something glowing out of the corner of your eye more than once - only to disappear when you actually look at it.

Oh, and you can’t ignore the massive elephant in the room.

More specifically, the massive suit of armor.

Upon first entering the house, it looked like an odd decoration but hardly one you could complain about. Old houses have weird decorations, right? It made you feel like you were walking into a murder mystery set but your attention was so set on moving in that you didn’t think much of it. It looked regal and mysterious enough to make you ponder over its relevance though. The original owners never mentioned it, did they? There’s no plaque to reveal who may have donned it, who it may have shielded or when. You shrug and decide you’ll research it at a later date.

That later date keeps getting pushed further and further back however. The mysterious old house has its fair share of secrets to keep you distracted - a library packed with dusty old books, a kitchen full of secret panels, not to mention the many, many nooks and crannies you weren’t told of. The only times you ponder about the armor again is when you pass its dulled surfaces in the hallway. It isn’t until you finally decide that a heavy cleaning of the home is in order lest your lungs fill with dust bunnies that the armor finally has your full attention.

How does one clean a suit of armor? You’re not sure. I’s not like it’s been in any books that you’ve read before. A wet rag should at least help with removing the dirt and dust, and you assume that the kind of polish used on metal surfaces in your kitchen could work. It’s a large suit and you know you’ll have your work cut out for you, but something draws you in despite the eeriness of the relic. It feels strange. It feels… Melancholic , somehow. Maybe you’re too wrapped up in the idea that this once belonged to someone, that someone could have lived, breathed, died in those iron plates. Maybe it’s the way the chestplate and helmet have engravings of broken hearts on them that tug at your own heartstrings. Whatever the reason, you feel like it’s your obligation to give this old thing one last hurrah in the way of cleaning it up.

As the rag glides across the faded surface and carries away the countless layers of grime, you start to see the former glory restored. The armor truly does look uncared for, though you aren’t surprised given the state of the house. It only spurs you on as more of that gleaming silver comes to light. There’s so many small details to pay heed to; engravings of hearts and chariots must be carefully detailed, and the sections of overlapping plates require a special amount of focus. At the very least there isn’t any corruption or rusting. It takes hours to clean with the occasional break for refreshments in-between, but pulling away from the now clear (albeit dull) suit sends a wave of relief through you. The low evening sunlight streaking through the stained glass windows of the foyer reflects in a beautiful kaleidoscope on the iron. For just a breath, a brief moment… You could almost swear that the suit of armor is glowing.

The moment passes as the clouds of kicked up dust finally force you to sneeze, and when you look at the armor again the glow is gone. It must have been a trick of the light. With that, you nod and set aside the polish to be done the next day. Perhaps the sheer amount of time or the curiosity that you’ve poured into the armor play a role in why you suddenly feel a sense of longing and connection towards the suit, almost as though you’re leaving an old friend. It’s odd, but you shrug the thoughts away and retire to your room for the evening. The next day will surely be brighter.

Downstairs, the darkness of the dusk is broken by a soft glow.

Weeks pass after your restoration of the armor. The oddities start as subtle movements at first. A hand shifts slightly or the helmet seems to perk in the direction of your favorite armchair; the dust settled around the suit’s base is disturbed, or is it just your imagination? As the house becomes cleaner in more miniscule ways, even that starts to make you wonder if it’s all in your head. You only start to think something is up when you come home from work to find the armor set at the foot of the stairs to the second floor, its gauntlets set against the scabbard of its rapier. It’s not like the suit froze when you entered - you’re sure you would’ve heard the clanking, and it’s just a suit, right? If you weren’t constantly swamped with work you’d almost be afraid of the potential haunting. You know it isn’t some mischievous intruder breaking in just to mess with you; the doors and windows are always the same as they were, and it’s not like anything is missing. There aren’t handbooks on how to deal with haunted houses like this and so you stand in the house’s entranceway, eyes glued to the relic posed mere feet away.

It feels like an eternity that you wait with bated breath for something to happen. When it does, there is no loud scream or rush of metal and pain; no ghastly beasts lunge for your throat, and as you stand gaping like a fish out of water, you realize that the movement of the armor is almost unnoticeable at first glance.

The visor of the helmet minutely tilts towards you and you know for a fact that gauntleted fingers twitch at the scabbard’s handle. The gig is up. You take one step back, and the armor jerks to face you further. Another step, and the helmet is facing you fully, its hand never leaving the hilt of the razor sharp rapier. The door is closed and solid against your back and you’re certain that this is where you will die.

The clanging of metal grows closer and closer with each step of the suit of armor. Even behind your eyelids - when did they close? - you can’t miss the icy blue glow painting the backs of your eyelids in dim light. Your eyes peel open just enough to witness the armor come to a still before you in its pale glowing glory. The finger guards on the scabbard have lifted away and now the suit stands before you motionless yet again, its gauntlets stiffly held at its side. The icy terror that initially held you in its grasp melts into mute confusion and unease. Why isn’t it attacking you? What could you have done to inspire this thing’s movement? Or…

Has it always been on the move?

Your racing thoughts are interrupted by another sudden jump from the suit of armor, but this one catches you even more off-guard. In one quick and jerky movement, the suit tumbles down onto one iron poleyn, its other knee bent as it bows its helmet before you. You have no idea what to say, what to do as the massive suit freezes yet again. There’s a moving set of armor in front of you. Holy shit , there’s haunted armor in your house.

For a minute, the two of you stay there in frozen time. The armor doesn’t move but it glows and pulsates with faint blue light. You don’t move aside from the slowing rise and fall of your chest. There’s a tension so palpable in the air that it surely could be cut through like butter with a hot knife, but you have no idea what to do or say to your unexpected housemate.

The first noise to break the room isn’t from you. It starts out so quietly that the rush of blood in your ears drowns it out. Slowly and drenched in uncertainty, a noise no louder than a whisper seems to fill the room. There’s a pause, and then the noise again, and again, growing louder with each confused blink it draws from you. The moment that it grows loud enough to register properly to your ears is the moment that you realize that it’s a voice echoing around you. The voice is hoarse and strangely hollow, but it sounds almost like a man. It echoes again from the suit of armor and you realize that it is speaking to you .

“Please… Give me an order.”

The stunned silence plaguing your voice is hard to break. Break it you do, but only because the tide of questions thrashing against your skull threatens to consume you.

“Who are you?”

Perhaps the right question would be who it - he - was. You begin to regret not looking up the source of the armor sooner. The voice goes silent and the glow swirls in a mesmerizing miasma of dull silver and ice. Whatever haunts this armor seems to form the strongest beneath its chestplate and helmet, and for the briefest of moments you wonder what you would see beneath the visor. As though it can sense your innate curiosity amidst the waves of confusion and fear, the being raises its helmet a fraction as though it were looking at you. The feeling of eyes becomes strong and yet oh so familiar.

“I am Jean Pierre Polnareff. You have laid claim to this land. I pledge my loyalty to you, to protect you and honor your every word.” The helmet drops again and the regal being donned in iron waits ever so patiently for your words. With its hand on its scabbard and that plasmic echo fading in and out like a heartbeat, it truly bears the visage of a noble warrior.

Okay, what the hell are you supposed to do about this?

There’s a fucking ghost knight in your house.

After a very rational and intense moment of thinking on the matter, you do the only thing that sounds right when confronted with such a ghostly specter. It doesn’t matter that it hasn’t made a move to harm you. You reach behind you, feeling around until you can grab the doorknob to the front entrance. You throw open the heavy door before hauling ass into the chilly night air, refusing to look back once lest the point of a rapier be the last thing you see.

You’ll find a hotel or stay with a friend for now. There’s no way in hell that you’re going back to your house, no way that you’re reenacting some stupid horror movie scene.

You go back to the house two days later.

Maybe it’s the twinge of pain in your shoulder and neck from sleeping on an uncomfortable futon. Maybe it’s the reminiscing that you’ve had time to do on the whole matter. You’ve never felt unsafe in the house; melancholy, sure, pensive if you stood in the right spot. You never felt afraid though, so why is the memory of the one that called himself Polnareff lingering in your mind?

The old home looms over you as the gray skies threaten to douse you in rain. Despite the being that you know lurks inside, the building itself doesn’t feel ominous. It feels like a rundown old manor and you can’t come up with a good reason to avoid going in any longer. The stone steps are slick beneath your shoes and with a mighty groan, the door swings forward into the foyer.

You aren’t really sure what you expected. Images of torn tapestries and broken mirrors came to your mind at first, like a raging beast rampaging in a bout of anger. The light of the day floods the foyer, and you breathe a sigh of relief to see that there is no such damage. As a matter of fact… There is no sign of the suit of armor at all. It isn’t at its base in the middle of the foyer. You know you should be on high alert, but the lack of surprises lulls you ever so slightly.

It feels silly to call out for another person in your own house, so you decide to take your chances and look around instead.

The den is free of the suit. You find yourself oddly disappointed.

The kitchen likewise lacks any spectral beings, and so too does the rest of the first story.

The memory of the first time that you saw the armor moving towards the staircase comes to mind, and your eyes travel up and along the mahogany banister towards the silent second story. If there were anywhere that your unassuming houseguest would be, you have a strong suspicion of its intended destination.

The doors to the library creak open as you peer inside and to your unexpected relief, a flash of iron catches your eyes. You push further in to be greeted by the broad, shining form of the suit of armor. Its helmet has tilted slightly back as though to acknowledge you but it has not moved. That glow remains but it is more dull than last time, the colors barely touching the dusty books and desk it stands in front of. That acknowledgment is all that you need and you take a deep breath of the stale air.

“I’m… Sorry. Sorry for how I acted last time. I wasn’t expecting you and I was scared, so I ran.” It’s an apology you never felt that you would make, but it feels wrong to leave things as they were. This thing has likely been here longer than you have been alive; the aura of sadness and mournful longing around it tinges your heart in a way you never expected.

The armor turns to look at you further with a set of clangs and you catch a glimpse of what its broad form was hiding. You haven’t had time to get a good look at the library beneath all of the blankets of dust, but the crest hanging on the wall is one you don’t recognize. The symbols of hearts and horse-drawn chariots bear a striking resemblance to the engravings on the knight’s armor. You startle as you realize that the very same insignia was on the paperwork that you signed to properly take ownership of this house.

The suit turns fully to face you and you swallow down your nerves. This could either go really well or really poorly based on how good you are at offending ghosts.

Its visor tilts to one side, then the other. It takes a step forward, and this time you stay where you are willingly rather than freezing in fear. Another step is taken. Another. By the time that your distorted face is reflected in the large breastplate of the armor, you realize just how cold the room has gotten around you. That visor leans down to look at you and you look up into it as icy tendrils of mist curl from beneath the edges. When the gauntlets reach up and towards you, it’s a miracle that you don’t feel fear. All that you feel is the strong wave of melancholy that you first felt upon stepping into this house, and you wonder just what this soul has suffered to exude such strong feelings of sadness.

The gauntlets do not reach for you, though they do briefly cradle your own hands in chilled metal before continuing upwards. The guarded fingers come to rest at the edges of the visor. Tendrils of ghostly energy curl at the iron knuckles, and it freezes like that. It’s as though it’s waiting for your order. With a flashback to the last meeting, you blink away crystals of iced tears that you didn’t even realize had appeared and answer its unspoken question.

“Show me your face. I want to see the knight of this house.”

You aren’t sure what to expect. There are no rules that could have prepared you, no pictures or carvings or films. The glide of the visor up and into the iron helmet is silent as it reflects the light. Whoever this man was, he is nothing like you expect, and that’s a pity because he is refined and elegant and somber in the way that only a lost soul can be.

Your hand shakes as you reach towards the visor. Crystals of ice gather on your fingertips as your eyes roam over the misty face of the man that once was. Sad eyes like faded seaglass stand out amidst shadows of sharp cheekbones and shroud-like silver hair that dances like spider silk in the wind. He speaks of tragedy and heartbreak without saying a word, and the brush of your fingers on the frigid iron of his helmet finally breaks what fear remains in your heart.

“You’ll protect me?” The words are barely a whisper, but you don’t have it in you to speak any louder.

The ghost - Polnareff - nods. Somber as he may be, you swear that the corner of his lips turns up for just a moment. That air of melancholy lifts ever so slightly from your heart, the glow of the being before you so much more vivid than before.

“I swear to you, as is my purpose. You’ll never be alone.”

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #Doc's Fics #jean pierre polnareff #jjba x reader #monster au #teratophillia #stardust crusaders #jjba polnareff #sfw #polnareff x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader

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ca-8 · 2 months

Text

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𝕐𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕖!𝔹𝕦𝕟𝕫𝕠 𝔹𝕦𝕟𝕟𝕪 𝕩 𝕋𝕠𝕪 ℝ𝕒𝕓𝕓𝕚𝕥!ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣 (ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝟚)

・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・

(This is a yandere fanfic meant to portray behaviors seen in fiction and fiction only. This is not to represent people who have real mental/personality disorders and/or trauma that cause them to gain obsessive behaviors. Please do not romanticize any behavior like this seen in real life, and do not actively seek out a relationship with someone who is prone to hurt themselves and/or others. Keep fantasies in fiction. Thank you.) (Major Trigger Warning: Implied abuse, descriptive human gore, ingestion of human insides, body hacking) .

The pile was gone.

Little Hoppy was licking up the bloodied stains on the floor. (Y/n) had forgotten she was there until they realized they had been staring down at her for the past half hour. Their vision became stable again, their body was no longer trembling, and their stomach growled with reluctant, sickly relief. So they sat there, filling their shriveling lungs with air that was curing out its hellish stench. Just like on the day when they all feasted on Devils.

Which made this impossible. (Y/n) and presumably every other toy in Playtime Co. gorged on hundreds of bodies for years, until they ran out. One minute they were bathing in a victorious bloodbath, the next their stomachs begged them to turn on each other. That's why it was always so empty. That's why (Y/n) and little Hoppy always hid. So…who…?

Gloved hands coated in red rested on their shoulders. And his godawful voice whispered in their ear, "Hello, darling."

Get up. Run. Grab Hoppy and run as far away as you can. But no matter how loud their inner voice screamed at them, they sat right in place. Little Hoppy had curled up in their lap and fallen asleep.

(Y/n) opened their mouth to scream, but Bunzo quickly hushed them as he leaned in to rest his head on their shoulder.

"Look how peaceful she looks. That must've been the first meal she had in a long time." They whimpered; he was so close that their cheeks touched. His breath reeked of Devil. "It must've been your first meal too, right, (Y/n)?"

His voice lowered when he said their name. There was so much pleasure laced within his tongue, they could feel him practically trembling as each letter spilled out. He gripped their chin with such force, as if he would break their jaw open if they even attempted to move from him.

No, he would. He'd have them writhe in agony and drag them back down to his little "playhouse". They looked down, their breath hitching. Bunzo's bloodied hand was caressing over the line of stitches connecting their beautiful (f/c) fur-covered thigh with a raggedy leg of another toy on their line.

It hurt. It stung so badly feeling the needle go inside and outside their leg It hurt. It stung so badly feeling the needle go inside and outside their leg with the thread harshly chafing against each hole. But what hurt more was tearing off a leg from another (Y/n)'s decaying corpse.

"You've been starving for so long, all because you thought you didn't need me. But now look at you, so filled with energy and beauty and life again. I was so considerate to look past the fact that you abandoned me, and brought you and your little pet back from the brink of death."

That God they praised was him. "Where did you get it?" their voice croaked from their voice box. It was the only thing they could push from their mouths that wouldn't make him harm them.

Bunzo's smile widened, and he brought his mouth closer to theirs. "A former employee was roaming around Playcare, all alone in the dark. I saw them, and I thought of you," he explained.

"How did you find me?"

"Oh, it wasn't hard. Who can go far with only one leg, anyway? And your only notable quality is how absolutely captivating you are, my dear. Having beauty that only I can admire."

Something was caught in the corner of their eye, and they glanced up. It was a rotting poster splattered in decomposing blood, but the most disgusting thing on it were the cartoon versions of (Y/n) and Bunzo embracing each other, surrounded by hearts and drowning in once better days.

Suddenly, he held their hand. "I'm so tired of worshipping your leg, it only makes me crave the rest of you. Come back with me, (Y/n). You and your pet. We can be a family together," Bunzo whispered. "From the second we were made, we were meant for each other. I can take care of you two. Other people will want to look for that former employee. You won't even have to lift a finger, I can kill them for you!" He wrapped his arms around them, forcing their hands to dig in their sides, and the maniac began to squeeze. "Do you know what you made me do when you left? I was so scared, so- so angry, I hurt so many little friends, so many of me!"

Little Hoppy's ears rose just a bit as soon as Bunzo rose his voice. She slowly rose from (Y/n)'s lap and looked up at their parents' trembling figure getting so painfully squeezed by the strange, bloodied bunny man. A low snarl erupted from that wide, toothless grin.

"It was so bizarre seeing myself bleed out by my hands - seeing so so much pour out from such tiny little bodies - but I had to do it. I had to! You are the one assigned to me, it's not my fault theirs are all dead, it doesn't mean they should have you-!" She leaped from their lap and flew straight to his face, sending him back on the ground. (Y/n) didn't look back, but their ears were doused in howls and curses as Bunzo tried to pry the little one off of him. She was little, but she wasn't prey. (Y/n) sprinted down the hallway and around the corner. They heard a gut-wrenching wail from little Hoppy, but their legs just kept going. It was pointless - when the Devils were wiped from this place, when the toys' only source of food were digested, all of their friends, their family, everyone only saw each other as either food or foe. The naive against the desperate, the weak against the strong.

And Bunzo was right, they were weak. They couldn't even take care of a little bunny. They could only run and hide and pray to a cruel God that he would disappear so they could fall asleep and never wake up.

The pitiful rabbit pushed open the door to a small, dark room and locked it behind them, then laid beneath a desk and held their mouth shut.

It had gotten quiet. Too quiet, and for too long.

Then, the silence broke far outside (Y/n)'s blanket of shadows.

"(Y/N)!" Bunzo screamed. His target stifled a sob. "I can't do this without you… I can't live without you! Don't you remember how beautiful we were together before The Hour of Joy? We knew how those Devils really saw those children, so we gave them the best life possible! We were one big happy family! We can be that again! We don't have to live out our final days in misery!"

'Go away. I don't care. I want nothing to do with you.' Yes, in the past, things were different. They were both powerless, but still made each orphan feel so loved and special. Just like how he made them once.

"I don't want you to die a hypocrite, (Y/n)," he continued. "You killed just as many as I did! I saw it all, the way you tore their jaws opened to silence their screams, how your breathtaking eyes blazed with fury as you ripped out their spines… it was heavenly."

(Y/n) clawed their face. They hated those Devils. They hated seeing their plans for those innocent children, they weren't fit to be called human! They had to protect them, they had to! They couldn't stand to see another one go! Those screams, they were like music - wonderful enchanting music! - even when living so beautifully, they've never experienced something so delightful before hearing such howls melt into choking groans as a Devil's blood flooded from their broken mouths. They didn't deserve to live! If those children knew what they were going to do to them, they would've done the same thing. THEY DID NOT DESERVE TO LIVE.

And then they saw the looks on their little faces. They looked at them as if they were the monster. They weren't, (Y/n) was just trying to protect them! But when they smiled and approached them and outstretched their arms for a hug like they always did, the children only screamed in utter terror, breaking that lovely song.

"So how can you give me that face when you've committed the same sins as I have?"

They couldn't kill again. When the children ran from them, they couldn't bring themselves to harm another. All of a sudden, that hatred had diminished, so they turned and hid, and the screams went on. They only stopped when Bunzo found and urged them to eat. They were starving, and they didn't mind it at the time because if they hurt those children, they only deserve to starve. But he dragged them out and fed them bitter Devil remains.

That's when they knew he had changed along with them. They saw what the children had seen and they did not like it one bit.

But now he fed them again. And they were hiding again. And another child got hurt because of them. If a cruel God was gazing down at this pathetic rabbit, they had hoped He could end its miserable life at at that moment.

But the cruel God kept living up to His title.

Bunzo's footsteps grew closer, and little Hoppy's mewls amplified along with them. (Y/n) let go of their stinging face. 'She's alive.'

"My dear, you're not just going to leave our poor baby to die, are you?" he called right outside the door. "I can't bear to tear this cute little thing to pieces. But I will if I have to. If you really are so selfish as to break apart our precious family, it only makes sense for you to die alone."

Footsteps walked past the room and little Hoppy's whines slowly began to fade. (Y/n) laid there, their stomach becoming more and more twisted and sick. Then, they rose, and exited the room.

"WHERE ARE YOU?" Bunzo bellowed. In one hand, he held little Hoppy's paw, making her dangle upside down. In the other, he held a half of her ear, letting small droplets of blood trail right behind him.

(Y/n) bit their quivering lip before softly saying, "Right here."

Bunzo whirled around. Little Hoppy's blood spouted across the lower wall beside him. "My beloved (Y/n), there you are!" he said cheerfully, his harsh and sadistic personality quickly fading. "You had me so worried for a second!"

Lights were flickering above them, but (Y/n) could still get a full view of him now. The green of his overalls were completely overshadowed by old blood every inch of its fabric, with little hints of fresh gore peppering a few areas. His yellow fur was completely dulled out and gave into the ugly mixture of whatever disgusting horrors he granted upon his other victims. Dirt and grime plagued his long ears, and surprisingly, (Y/n) spotted a bite at the tip of his left ear. But was most shocking was the fact that his right eye was missing.

They jumped when they realized Bunzo had moved much closer to them. "Hmm, you've must've noticed my own changes, is that right?"

"Yes, your…your eye."

"Oh! That old thing. That employee actually put up quite a bit of a fight."

"S-So…that wound…it's recent?" They glanced down at Little Hoppy for a second.

Bunzo face melted into a warm, enamored smile. "You're worried about me! That makes m e so…so happy!" He suddenly pulled them into an embrace, earning a fearful gasp from them. "You….me….this little one…" Pulling away only slightly, he brought up little Hoppy and made (Y/n) hold her along with him, dropping her half ear. It splattered only the ground, slowly uncurling like a wilting flower. "We'll be perfect together!"

They bit their tongue to keep themselves from crying. "If I stay with you…if w-we both stay…You won't hurt us?"

Bunzo's smile dropped. "Hurt you? Oh no no no no no no no! My dear, everything I've done, I did for you! To help you realize you need me as much as I need you. And it worked! Your eyes tell me you want to stay with me forever and ever!"

That crazed smile returned once more as he pulled them into another embrace. Little Hoppy whimpered and buried her face into (Y/n)'s stomach. "We'll have so much fun every day! I can show you the shrine I made for you! A-And you can give me more pieces of you so I can worship every single part of you every day!" He just kept going, on and on and on. "We'll never be apart again. We'll die together. And if you ever die before me, I'll tear open your body and make myself fit inside you, then close you up so I can suffocate against your wonderful skin. And you'll do the same for me! Doesn't that sound perfect?" (Y/n) tensed up. Their legs were aching to run away again, but they couldn't let him harm about thread on her body. Maybe this cruel God was giving her another chance at redemption. Protect the child, no matter what. Even if it means living every day in a hell with no rising sun. Even if it means becoming a slave to someone's sick fantasies. Even if it means wasting away your own life. It's time to repent for your sins. "Yes," (Y/n) said, "perfect." . . . Days have gone by. Or weeks. Or months. (Y/n) didn't care anymore. They and little Hoppy sat a table, kneeling over ragged carpet. Echoes of droplets sang close and off in the distance as they splattered against the cave floor. Sometimes they wondered what color they were. Behind them, a candle light flickered amongst the few that decorated Bunzo's masterpiece. (Y/n) always tried to avoid looking at it, as it just made them sick to their stomach, but sometimes they had no choice but to gaze upon its repulsive glory. It was a giant shrine of corpses spelling out their name, bodies once belonging to other Bunzos and (Y/n)s. Their faces were painted in such horrid agony, their mouths forever drawn out in an eternal silent scream. Each of them had their eyes gouged out as they were forced in a position to have their handless arms reach towards the shrine's centerpiece: (Y/n)'s precious leg. It was dirty and smelled absolutely appalling. Every inch of it was covered in smears and hand prints made from blood, like someone had gotten a little too personal in order to worship it. Even though asking was the last thing they wanted to do, Bunzo went ahead and whispered everything he did to it to them every night, in terribly excruciating detail.... (Y/n) released the breath they were holding and turned toward little Hoppy. Her previously damaged ear was sewn back together, and both ears were flopped over behind her head. Though she held her usual wide, toothless smile, the life in her eyes had greatly diminished. (Y/n) scooted closer and gently made her head lean on their side. "We'll be okay," they whispered. Turns out, Bunzo somewhat kept his promise; when they were good, he didn't lay a finger on Hoppy. If he was satisfied for the day, he treated them a little too well in fact, always going off into rants about how much of a good father and husband he was to his family. Always pulling (Y/n) into sudden, deep passionate kisses that had them gasping for air while he was off in a daze. It was so hard not to throw up once they were given a chance to breathe again. If he wasn't satisfied... They took in as much musty air as they could when footsteps began to approach. Bunzo emerged into the candlelight, holding yet another plate of throbbing Devil organs. The room instantly became poisoned with iron, and they held in a gag and sat up straight. "Thank you for waiting, honey!" Bunzo said enthusiastically, setting the plate down on the table and wiping the red streak off his face. "It's like this place is getting bigger every day...but we're so lucky. That employee has a lot more friends than I thought!" "Really?" (Y/n) stared at their meal. Bleeding rivers coursed through each crevice. Little Hoppy cautiously approached the pile. "We won't have to worry about food for a while!" Bunzo looked down at the bunny, who recoiled as soon as she saw him staring at her. He smiled. "Go ahead, dear, eat up. Your parents want you to grow up big and strong!"

She didn't move. (Y/n) grabbed a handful of intestine and held it up toward little Hoppy. She sniffed their hand and nibbled the contents slowly. "Aww, how adorable!" Bunzo cried happily. He scooted next to them and firmly grabbed their shoulder, pulling them toward him. "You're absolutely perfect... I can never get enough of you. Everything you do is so precious, so..." His breath clung to a gasp and broke out into quick, manic giggles. (Y/n) pulled back a bit before he grabbed their face and pressed his lips against theirs. His grip was so strong, too strong, they used their free hand to try to pry his hands off of them, or at least get him to let go.

Thankfully, he did, and he moved back just enough to let them have some air. With his half-lidded eyes swimming in morbid longing, Bunzo stared deeply into theirs, studying every smidgen of movement, every sliver of their dulling soul, every thought they could possibly be thinking and making sure it was only of him. They opened their mouth, and Bunzo cut them off. "Which reminds me," he started, "I'd like another piece."

His victim's heart stopped, and after a long, quiet moment that was only broken by dripping drops, (Y/n) picked up little Hoppy and sat her on the table next to their meal. She stepped towards them, almost putting one of her paws on their shoulder until they stood up and left the room with Bunzo following close behind. "I know you used to dream about escaping this place one day, my dear (Y/n)," he said. They entered another room with a bed and a table with various sharpened tool. The overhead light still made the fluids glisten. "When I saw you scurry from place to place, trying to ascend from our home. The more I watched you, the more confused I became." They laid down on the bed, holding out the arm fused with (f/c) and bright yellow fur from their side. Their and Bunzo's fingers trembled in sync. Bunzo grabbed a butcher's knife and ran one of their fingers against the blade. "You'd get killed the second you step outside of this place. You could never become adjusted or find someone to trust...or to love. Thinking about that made me so, so, so sad." He stepped to the side and laid his completely yellow hand firmly against the surface. "You had the nerve to leave me, then run off to get yourself killed? It hurt me. It hurt me so much. So much-" and he heaved in a gasp as he raised the knife, "-All I could think about was-" He hammered it down on his finger. A revolting crunch bounced off the walls. "How COULD you? How DARE you?" The knife flew back up and slammed back down on his finger, over and over again with each word and unstable gasp. "There wasn't ANYTHING I wouldn't do for you, and you still LEFT? After all we've BEEN THROUGH?" And with one final, painful CRUNCH, his finger laid severed in a pool of red. Bunzo gasped heavily, staring up at the wall whilst trying to regain control of his quivering arms. "...And..." he finally spoke in a haggard whisper. "And....and...and...and and and and....and you came back to me." Bunzo turned around, smiling ever so widely. Blood dripped off his teeth with pride. "And...and...and...and we started a new life together. C-CatNap was kind enough to- to...to lend us this part of the cave as our home, he...h-he, he only asked us to praise th-the...the the the Prototype, i-i-in exchange...." He pushed himself off the table and wobbled over to (Y/n). They only watched in silence, biting their lip to keep them from crying again. "I-...I don't..." He stumbled over, quickly catching himself before he could fall. "...I don't...g-give a single sh...shit about whatever he wanted, I don't care about the Prototype! I-I can't st-stand doing his...his little favors f-for his joke of a god..."

Supporting himself with his arms on the sides of their head, Bunzo hovered over them. Disgusting gore dripped onto their face, and they couldn't look away from that perfervid, boiling, doting glare. "Y-Y-You're my only God... I'll prove, I'll prove it to you...! W-We'll exchange pieces of each other and truly, truly become inseparable!" He grabbed their only good hand and brought one of their fingers up to his lips, dousing it in his saliva sighing so contently. (Y/n) was whimpering. Their heart was pounding and they couldn't keep themselves still. "Just do it already," they choked out. "Get it over with." "Aw, don't be so scared, my little bunny..." Bunzo reached over and kissed the top of their forehead. "I'll make this quick." He raised the butcher knife, and (Y/n) squeezed their eyes shut. His voice whispered within the darkness before the burning, unimaginable pain.

"After all, you've been so good for me. I love you so much." ・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・ Hey guys! Like what ya saw? Well you can commission your own private piece now!! Read more about that here! Thanks so much for reading, and have a great day!~ 💜💜💜 So this was so much fun to make, and again, thank you to @zinnia1506 for requesting!! (But again, seriously guys, don't go actively looking for relationship like these in real life. A lot of people are saying "ugh I wish I could find a crazy yandere gf/bf" and I'm just like, no. No you don't. For one, it romanticizes people with obsessive behavior stemming from trauma and/or mental/personality disorders, and two, it will NOT be the relationship you want. Trust me, I know. So every time I'm gonna make a yandere fanfic, I'm gonna put that lil PSA in the beginning. Keep yourselves safe.

Okay! Also, you guys can now request CatNap because:

I've been researching about him and people have been saying that he was 7 years old by the time he turned into CatNap, and since this game takes place ten years later (as the game implies that the toys can age), he has aged ten years mentally and emotionally, technically making him 17-18 years old (Update on that: @atiz57 just informed me that he may be in fact older, as he was turned into CatNap at age 7, stayed in that body for four years before the Hour of Joy making him 11, and 10 years later when the game took place, he would be 21. I wanna say thanks to them for giving me that info!)

I kin and am hyperfixated on CatNap and I wanna write about him pLEASE GIMME SOMETHING THAT INVOLVES HIM/nf

For the most part, I ask you guys to keep it mostly platonic (because I still speculate on his true age from time to time), and I'd love to hear from you all!~ 💜 Next up, we have a requested DogDay fanfic! I'm so excited to write it and show you guys!!

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fruitcoops · 2 years

Note

Hi Eve! Can I request a fic where Remus is hurt on the ice and in a lot of pain, and really depends on Sirius comforting him. Maybe he goes to the Hospital and is really frightened by it. Basically something where Remus is extremely hurt (physically and emotionally) and Sirius comforts him a lot. If you feel like it! I know you're writing a lot of H/C and Angst rn. I love your writing!

Oh we're doing CHONKY angst tonight, my friends. Also, I'm super close to my fic goal, so requests will be opening back up again soon! I won't give a specific date because I don't want to give anyone false hope, so thank you all for being patient. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

**TW for injury (dislocation), mentioned past injury/ trauma, implied PTSD, panic/ dissociation response, hospitals

Time stood still. It was a cheesy, cliché thought—Sirius knew that much. But time stood still, and lots of people were moving erratically, and he had the sudden realization he couldn’t feel his toes in his skates anymore. He knew he should move. He knew he needed to move. He knew he could feel every vein and artery in his body seizing, every muscle fossilizing.

“—fucking Christ—”

“I’m gonna—”

“—god, look—”

“—happening? What’s happ—”

“Stay there!” Sirius flinched at the sharp order from James’ mouth, somewhere on the other side of the bench. Medics were gathering like clotted blood on a wound; he could only see black skates, the red accents stark against the ice while their owner thrashed once, twice, and went still again.

His tongue unstuck from the roof of his mouth. He managed one step. James’ hand settled on his chest, but he pushed right past it without breaking stride. The crowd was deafening in its silence. He could see Remus’ legs now, one bent and tipping to the side. The medics shuttered his body and face from view, but Sirius was six-foot-six in his skates. That wouldn’t be a problem.

“—touch me!” The sudden burst of noise amongst a sea of muttering voices made him blink in surprise. “Don’t touch me, don’t touch me!”

Remus wasn’t supposed to sound like that. He wasn’t supposed to look like that when Sirius came closer, tense and laid out and failing every time his muscles tried to contort in agony, ghost-white save for the blotchy red on his cheeks. His right hand gripped the wrist of a medic so tight it trembled. “Mr. Lupin,” Emmeline cut in. “Remus, let go.”

“Keep your hands off,” he said through clenched teeth.

Sirius took a knee, shouldering between two of the medics despite their protests. Even a meter away, he could see how far Remus’ pupils had dilated. “Loops,” he began. The few people that tried to pull him away would have had better luck moving a boulder barehanded. Sirius found Remus’ terrified eyes against the too-bright glare of the rink and his throat tightened, suffocating any words.

The unadulterated panic faded somewhat—Remus’ lower lip trembled, a single tear rolling down the slope of his nose as he held Sirius’ gaze. “Sirius.” He sucked in a half-breath and hitched with the strain. “Sirius, don’t fucking touch me.”

“I won’t.”

Remus visibly relaxed when he held both hands up, only for his entire face to screw up in pain at the movement. A groan siphoned through his ticking jaw, strangled and barely contained.

“Mr. Lupin, you need to let us get you on a stretcher,” Emmeline said firmly, as if they had had this conversation before. “We have to get you off the ice.”

“Can’t move.”

“We’ll help—”

“Gonna tear it apart.” Remus’ eyes unfocused, and Sirius quite literally watched the blood drain from his face as his hand slipped off the other medic’s wrist and hit the ice with a dull sound. His mouth refused to offer the comfort rattling through his mind. “Don’t understand, I have pins there, gonna tear the muscle.”

Emmeline’s lips pressed into a thin, pale line. “Fuck,” she muttered, tucking Remus’ forearms against his chest; this time, he didn’t so much as twitch. She grabbed the walkie-talkie off her belt, moving to a crouch. “Get him on the stretcher. Hi, this is Emmeline Vance, I have a player with a partially dislocated shoulder who is going into psychological shock. We’re 60 seconds from the ambulance.”

By the time Sirius was able to force some air into his lungs, everyone else was already in motion, and he was being pushed aside. “I can’t do it.” Remus’ voice was too strained, too high. His gaze darted randomly from Sirius to the rink and back again. “Can’t do it again, I can’t do this.”

“Just keep breathing, Remus,” Emmeline said. “That’s all I need from you.”

“I can…” Sirius faltered as they shuffled Remus onto the stretcher. He had gone from white to gray in a matter of moments. His left arm looked wrong where it laid limp against him. “I can help?”

“Go back to the bench, captain,” an unfamiliar medic said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Your coach will pass along the hospital address.”

Sirius shook his head. It was too hard to swallow. “No.”

“Sir—”

“He’s my husband.”

“I understand, but the ambulance is already—”

“That’s my husband.” Control. Calm. Steady. Remus’ voice never shook when he asked for things, never raised by a single decibel. Sirius took a breath in through his nose, out through his mouth. “My husband is on that stretcher. I need to be with him right now.”

“That’s not a matter to discuss with me.” The medic stood and helped him to his feet with a kind smile. “Talk to your coach. We’ll take good care of Mr. Lupin.”

No, you won’t. He knew he should trust them—it was their job. It was what Remus had done for years, and Remus had never failed them. But Sirius couldn’t help the knee-jerk protest that tried to claw its way out into the cold air where the voices of the crowd were starting to rise. It was Remus’ job to heal. It was his job to play. These people…he didn’t know these people. More importantly, they didn’t know Remus. They didn’t know that he couldn’t be touched after a nightmare and they didn’t know how good he was at hiding pain in smiles and they didn’t know he could only be lulled back into rest with a kiss, a snuggle, some tea.

But Remus was already gone, and Sirius belonged on the bench.

“I’m here for Remus Lupin.”

“Relation?”

“Husband. How is he?”

“Asleep, as of…five minutes ago.”

“And his shoulder?”

“I’m afraid I can’t share personal medical information, sir.”

Sirius hoped the nurse couldn’t hear his pulse hammering across the desk. “Alright. Where’s his room?”

“He’s in 430. The elevator is on your left.”

“Merci beaucoup.” God bless Celeste for teaching him proper manners, because an ‘afterthought’ wasn’t even the right word for how little he cared about thanking people at the moment. Remus liked to tease him for his ‘lack of tact’, whatever that was supposed to mean. Bluntness had always worked fine in the past, even if it meant people liked his husband more than him. It wasn’t Sirius’ fault he had grown used to using his captain voice in daily life.

The elevator lurched to life after a few impatient clicks of the button; it stopped once, on the second floor, and Sirius tried not to scowl too hard at the perfectly nice couple that decided to wait for the next one. His legs stopped working when the elevator doors opened.

A cheerful golden ‘4’ shone on the opposite wall—he forced himself forward, only to stop again as the doors closed behind him. The floor was as busy as any hospital he had visited, full of families and bustling staff in equal shares. The nearest door read ‘403’.

Sirius started walking.

The linoleum squeaked under his sneakers with each measured step, background music for his racing thoughts. Would Remus still be asleep? Was his injury worse than they thought? Sirius hadn’t been able to leave early—hadn’t wanted to, not when they couldn’t promise he would be able to see Remus right away—and he didn’t have the first clue what made psychological shock different than regular shock. He had seen enough shitty medical dramas on Saturday nights to know people died from it. Suddenly, Remus’ penchant for pointing out their inaccuracies like it was a game show wasn’t so funny.

430.

He peeked through the little window with one hand on the doorknob and felt his heart stutter, a breath rushing free. Remus was still asleep, just as the nurse had promised. The bed was propped up; his left arm rested in a sling. Someone had tucked the crisp white blankets around his waist. Sirius opened the door and crept in, closing it quietly behind him before he moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

Remus’ breaths came in the same slow, even pattern he knew like his own pulse, so vastly different than the shallow things that had wracked him four hours prior. He looked better than Sirius had left him: there was healthy color in his cheeks and no tension sending agony though his body. He traced the places pain used to pinch with a gentle hand.

Beneath his touch, Remus stirred. He blinked a few times, bleary and befuddled, before his expression relaxed into a small smile and his cheek pressed into Sirius’ palm. “How long’ve you been there?”

“About five minutes,” Sirius murmured. They had the room to themselves, but it didn’t feel right to speak louder. He scratched along the shorter hair over Remus’ ear and felt him hum. “Feeling better?”

Remus nodded, keeping his eyes closed. “Got the good stuff.”

“Sleepy?”

“Mhmm. Love how you talk.”

“Me?” he laughed.

“It’s always you.”

Sirius stroked beneath Remus’ eye with the pad of his thumb. His skin was impossibly soft and delicate for someone so unbreakable. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here before.”

“Didn’t miss anything big.”

“Still.” He swallowed as the lump from earlier tried to surge back to life in his throat. “Still, I want to be here for you. It’s my job to take care of you, now.”

“How the turntables,” Remus muttered, drawing a laugh from both of them.

With a long exhale, he let his head rest back against the crinkly pillow, and Sirius went willingly when Remus opened an arm for him to cuddle under. The hospital gown was rough when he smoothed a hand over Remus’ chest, tracing the bandages beneath. “Qu’est-ce que c’est?” Sirius asked, giving the lowest ridge a small tug.

Remus cracked an eye open and followed his movement. “Oh, it’s just some extra support. Goes up an’ around.”

“No broken ribs?”

“I can’t be stealing your brand that quick.”

“Don’t joke about that,” Sirius protested despite Remus’ quiet snickering. “It’s not funny, Re.”

“ ‘m sorry.” He took a couple deep breaths, then turned to Sirius with a bitten-back smile. “It’s a little funny.”

“No.”

His face softened, and with a little bit of wiggling he pulled his arm free from under Sirius’ body and placed his fingertips over his cheekbone like a pianist preparing to play. A delicate touch as always; sometimes, Sirius wondered whether Remus thought he was made of glass. Nobody had treated him that carefully before. It wasn’t a bad thought at all. Remus kept them there for a long moment, watching with half-lidded eyes. His whole body radiated exhaustion. “Today was a bad day,” he finally said. The corner of his mouth tilted up softly. “You’re so handsome.”

“Are you feeling better?”

This time, Remus paused before answering. He paused, and he sighed, and he curled into Sirius’ chest until Sirius draped an arm over his stomach and laced their fingers together. “I dunno,” he whispered. “It was—bad. They put me under to relocate it, ‘cause I couldn’t calm down. They told me I went into shock, but I don’t remember that part. I still feel like shit.”

“I would be worried if you didn’t.” But I hate that you do. Sirius closed the inch between them and kissed Remus’ cheek, letting his lips linger on salty skin. Remus had been crying a little when they took him away. He didn’t want to know if it kept happening while he was sitting on a stainless steel bench outlining plays for other people to run.

“It was only a partial dislocation,” Remus noted after a few moments of quiet. Something in his gaze was still a little vacant. “So, y’know. There’s that. The pins work after all.”

Sirius gathered him closer, slipping one arm under Remus’ upper back so he could rest his head on Sirius’ chest. Their ankles tangled under the papery sheets, legs in a cat’s cradle. “We don’t have to talk about it,” he said into mussed curls. A tremor went through Remus, and he heard him sniffle.

“Fuck, sorry,” Remus choked out, going to pinch the bridge of his nose only to muffle a groan when the sling refused to let his arm move that far. Sirius guided his hand back down and wiped the few stray tears away with his thumb—his other hand splayed over Remus’ lower back, just holding. He could be an anchor right now.

“Don’t be sorry,” he murmured.

“I really couldn’t do it again, Sirius.” His voice was thick. Haunted. “I couldn’t. It almost killed me before, I swear to god.”

The air punched from Sirius’ lungs. He knew, he did, they had both struggled, but—“Don’t, loup. Don’t put yourself in that place right now.”

“I felt it give,” he said brokenly. “After everything I did, it just went and people were all over me.”

There was nothing good enough to say. Sirius didn’t truly understand, he never could. He had accepted that a long time ago in the same way Remus had to accept that he would never understand why Sirius was equally happy and grieving every time they spent time with the Lupins. And while he knew how to bring Remus down from the paralyzing fear that came with whatever trauma Fenrir Greyback had wrought, the rest of the world was still in the dark. There was no possible way to lead emergency medics through it without exposing everything.

So he let his fingers curl around the bandages stabilizing Remus’ shoulder and kept him close, pressing his forehead to a warm temple and holding his hand while Remus’ teeth chattered with the force of whatever needed to be let out. “Mon amour,” he said, lips brushing the peak of Remus’ cheekbone. “Mon coeur, mon loup, mon chou.”

“It was like I wasn’t even there anymore.”

“Je sais.” That much, Sirius could understand.

“My body was there but the rest of me…and it was taken.”

“It was.”

“The pins—it would have gone all the way without them.”

“And it will be better now.”

Remus sniffed, his face pressed so tight to Sirius’ chest that he could feel the damp spot forming on his shirt. “Do you promise?” he asked at last.

It was a ridiculous thing to promise a professional hockey player who regularly got body-slammed and entirely out of Sirius’ control. “Yes.”

Remus shivered, pulling his legs up tighter to Sirius’ thighs. “For real?”

There were tears in his voice again, but Sirius would rather they stain his shirt than the fabric of a stretcher or some plain hospital pillow. He would sign the discharge paperwork when Remus was good and ready to move, and not a second before. “I promise,” he repeated.

“Okay.” A shaky breath was cold on his torso. “Okay. Christ, I’m so fuckin’ tired.”

Sirius rubbed his back for another minute, pressing the occasional kiss to his hair or the side of his face. He managed a glance at his watch for the first time since arriving and was a little surprised to see the late hour blinking back at him. “Do you want to nap here, or should we go home?” he asked quietly.

But Remus was already asleep, clutching him just as close as waking hours.

#sirius black #remus lupin #coops #james potter #emmeline #sweater weather #vaincre #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #hurt/ comfort #angst #hospitals #injury #emotional whump #cuddling

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elmaxlys · 3 months

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please can you tell me about donato i appreciate your love posting and want to learn

😳❤

And I appreciate your interest in Him godbless 🙏 Genuinely from the bottom of my heart THANK YOU for asking about him however I cannot shut up once I start so this got long and increasingly unhinged as it went I hope you still enjoy reading about the Man of All Times

Donato is a side character from Tokyo Ghoul and its sequel, Tokyo Ghoul:re. He's the foster father of the first series's deuteragonist, Amon Koutarou.

In Tokyo Ghoul there are, well, ghouls - who are a human-looking species that can only survive by eating human meat (they can drink coffee but pretty much any other food is off the table for them). Donato is a ghoul.

Some ghouls hunt humans despite not wanting to, some ghouls scavenge dead bodies they find, some ghouls delight in the hunt. Donato? Oh he's a picky eater, see. Not to the extreme of the character nicknamed The Gourmet but what he likes most is children's meat. And so he held an orphanage for God knows how long and ate the kids he had there. Koutarou was one of the kids at his orphanage.

Then one day Koutarou found him killing one of the kids and understood he had been lied to all along, that none of the kids had been adopted: they'd all been eaten by the very person taking care of them - with it being implied (at least imo) he might have fed the kids some of the meat too.

What Donato means by "go along with his lie" is making Koutarou help him prepare the meat of his very siblings for his father to eat. We don't really know for how long it went on but he was pretty young. Donato never harmed Koutarou physically. Never touched him. Never ate him.

But when Koutarou was 12, despite being extremely powerful, Donato was ultimately caught by the CCG (basically police to catch and kill ghouls) and put into ghoul prison where he was able not to be executed by being a useful motherfucker. Think Hannibal Lecter kind of role. They come to consult him on cases because he doesn't give a single flying fuck about anyone that's not him so he can sell out other ghouls no problem if it means staying alive.

So useful in fact that he gets away with huh. stuff.

(he's the greatest hhhhhhhhh)

So anyway while they caught Donato, the CCG found Koutarou hiding in the huh place where they prepared the dead bodies of the kids. So they took him in like they do orphans of ghoul victims and he then became a ghoul investigator. The CCG are able to get proper answers out of Donato when they send him so they send him to ask stuff from time to time because the above will happen if it's not him. All this time, Koutarou has wondered Why Donato didn't kill him like the other kids, blinding himself to the truth that's, really, been staring at him in the face all along.

(rate SS is the highest rate a ghoul can achieve without cannibalizing on other ghouls, which Donato never did, maybe because ghouls taste disgusting to other ghouls)

(Look At His Smile) (Help) (can't keep typing, must stare at him.)

Stuff happens and Donato gets out of prison :D he decapitates the warden :DD he massacres a whole clan which has real powerful abilities with his besties after being on RC suppressants for 15 years :DDD (RC suppressants make it so a ghoul can't use their abilities, can't regenerate etc) (I'm jealous of the warden)

Later, as Stuff Happens and Donato and his besties we rarely if ever see him interact with raid Tokyo and we finally see Donato fight and lo and behold!!!!!!!

he can detach his kagune (ghoul's predatory organ) to make traps

he's so quick and precise!!!! killing a guy super precisely from super far away with his kagune just to lure his prey in the building he was standing on top of (the guy he killed was on the ground and pretty far from the building itself)

he is even MORE sadistic than we'd seen until then!!!!!!!! hhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!

Confirmation Again That He Loves His Son So Much

HE CAN CLONE HIMSELF

HE USES HIS KAGUNE + FINGERS TO MAKE CLONES OF HIMSELF AND SEND THEM TO FIGHT WHILE CONTROLLING THEM LIKE PUPPETS FROM AFAR AND THEY DISSOLVE WHEN DESTROYED

Going insane i Love this man So muchhhhh

Like he goes and lures a man (CCG investigator) in an abandoned building. Man comes with subordinate. Donato cuts off one of Subordinate's arms. Donato crucifies Man to ceiling and rips off Subordinate's second arm in front of his eyes. They talk and BIG REVEAL turns out Man's father was the one who caught Donato and put him in jail in the first place BUT in the previous arc we saw that Man had also beaten and captured Koutarou (who became a ghoul due to Mad Scientist experiments) and we know Donato and his besties (The Clowns, or Pierrot) have a super reliable information net so he definitely Knows. So!!! Is Donato taking his grudge against Man's father out on Man? Is Donato avenging his Son? Both?? These are my favorite chapters and my favorite thing in the entire sequel if you couldn't tell this is incredible INCREDIBLE he also insinuates that the reason he resents Man's father is that he took him away from his son and just. HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Also ! and this is getting super disorganized and I'm sorry, but Donato cooks! He knows how to cook human food despite being a ghoul and therefore not being able to taste human ingredients!! (or is he really a full ghoul? mystery) that's so cool ! and he bakes! he bakes donuts! his son loves sweets!!! donuts are Amon's favorite!! That's why my tag for them is "Donut Family"

And I'm not making sense by now but!!! the next time we saw him the Clowns raided Tokyo AGAIN and it's revealed Donato can TAKE CONTROL of the most POWERFUL entity in Tokyo Ghoul!!!! (a kakuja, aka a kagune armor by a cannibal ghoul, and this one being The most powerful) AND IT'S INSANE IT'S INCREDIBLE

And so Koutarou goes to stop his dad and they fight and they fight and!!!!!!!! Donato doesn't taunt, he doesn't fight back. We KNOW what he's capable of, we've SEEN IT but he doesn't do SHIT while his son is fighting to Kill and then Koutarou does manage to decapitate him after having a realization that oh shit he was also a bad person and admitting to himself that he'd actually loved his dad all along

Words said by Koutarou during the first them interaction we see VS Last words Koutarou says to Donato AND in the whole manga

INSANE STUFF

and!!!! it comes right after Donato completely and entirely demonized himself, denying any feeling he might ever have had and so all he can do is laugh (and cry. we saw him cry.)

BUT! not over.

I think Donato ISN'T DEAD because 1) during the entire last conversation he's talking as a decapitated head and unless we're in Jojo it's not possible 2) kagune can talk without lungs 3) it's Established Donato can make kagune clones that can talk and fight normally 4) we never see the rest of the body which I therefore assume just evaporated like clones to when destroyed 5) Ishida rule number 1: no body = no death

And ALSOOOOO my blog title!!! It comes from the monologue Donato has with the Man in the abandoned building, right as he's ripping the second arm from Subordinate!!!!!

TASTE HOW IT FEELS. HOW I FEEL. HOW CRUEL IT IS. CRUEL TO BE ONE OF THOSE WHO CAN ONLY BUT WATCH OVER OTHERS

quote of all times

Donato just escaped from 15 years in prisons during which he had to constantly see his son go from dangerous mission he could die in to another dangerous missions he could die in. He had to see his son actually get defeated hard while he was TRAPPED IN HIS CELL PRAYING and Koutarou did survive but got turned into a ghoul AND fuck okay fuck we know Donato knew Koutarou was alive but WE DON'T KNOW HOW HE LEARNT IT we don't know how long he believed his son was Dead okay I'm crying rn (there's also how his son got beaten down and captured in the previous arc by the very man he's got there on the ceiling)

alsooooo he's got this sliiiight god complex lol

ALSOOOO ghouls wear masks that both represent them (for example one has a white rabbit mask and she's always late, another is nicknamed No Face because 1) his mask is blank 2) he changes masks often 3) he's a mask maker) and hide their civil identity from the CCG when they hunt or fight them.

Here's how Donato uses his mask: he wears it while fighting the Man. He's hiding his feelings, he's hiding himself. He's showing a blank face of supremacy (his nickname is Crown and stuff). WHEN REVEALING HIS GRUDGE AGAINST MAN'S FATHER HE TAKES OFF HIS MASK. When he goes back to fighting he puts it back on!!!! AND in the final fight when he faces his son he takes off his mask RIGHT AWAY he fights without a mask The whole time and he looks sad and sjcdnjfvjdvfnkdjd

ALSO we learn later from a ghoul who has done that (My Favorite Woman, Roma) but ghouls who eat a lot can look younger than they are and Donato looks pretty old but he's the 3rd head of the Clowns and spent 15 years in prison, and the Founder (Roma) says she's 50 and so but she was captured when Old Geezer Head of CCG was still young and she's a professional liar so I think she's at least around a century old and Donato is necessarily older than her so I think he's around somewhere from 150 to 250 years old

I don't know if anything i've just said made sense right now I tried to be organized at first but hhhhhhhhhhhh Donato do be doing that to me

He's just. He's so great. His nickname in the CCG is both Crown and Father (as in Priest but also hhhhhhhhh). He loves his son unconditionally. He's one of the cruelest characters in Tokyo Ghoul (I put him up there in the top 5 along with Eto, Yamori, Kijima and Tokage). The only people he cares about are his son and an alter of the Main Character. He's a lying liar (saying he's not sentimental right after he went out of his way bc of his grudge against Man and Man's father For Example). He's a catholic priest who's the only character in TG not seeing any aspect of the act of Eating as an act of Love (when catholic god is love and catholics eat god's body). He canonically says fuck. Author says he's Russian but he has an Italian name + he's catholic. Author didn't even design him, he's one of two characters Author's friend designed for him. He's SO brutal. There's a panel of him holding dismembered heads BY THE SPINE like hhhhhhhh god i wish that were me

I want to include Every panel here istg he's SO GREAT and he's My Dad and I Love Him here are some posts + some panels because Look at Him

#thank you <3 #donato porpora #clown of my life #long post #tokyo ghoul #gore tw

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christallise · 2 years

Text

reasons why you (should)n't play league of legends

pairing: felix x reader (afab)

word count: 2000

warnings: sub!felix, mummy kink, implied lactation, use of pet names (angel, baby boy etc etc), breeding

a/n: this was lowkey inspired by happenings in an actual league game, i hope anyone who plays league get's a little chuckle out of this too! i was considering maybe making a series of meeting the boys through games but idk yet !!! written at the behest of @lixtokki

Playing league of legends is unnecessary stress that, if given the choice, you would never partake in. The game stirs emotions in you that you didn’t know you even had, the rage blinds you and although your friends insist that its humorous, you have your doubts. Sometimes your mouth runs a little too far; irregardless if the person on the receiving end is deserving of it or not.

Today, you’re laning against Diana in the top lane — already annoying since she can get close to you — you’d have to play safe until mid game. It’s less than two minutes in before you curse aloud to no one when you see the chat ping.

lixie001 (Diana): report my team noobs

lixie001 (Diana): don’t know how to leash jungler

Great, she’s toxic to boot.

So there is something so satisfying when you’re up 4 kills to 0 and the chat moves at a pace that’s difficult to keep up with as none other than lixie001 chooses you to fall victim to his fiery wrath.

lixie001 (Diana): you fucking scrub who even plays teemo

lixie001: (Diana): uninstall the game cunt

Oh, a C bomb.

Usually, you don’t take the bait from flamers; in the end it’s really not worth it to get all riled up over a stranger on the internet that knows nothing. Today felt different though — no, something about this Diana felt different. Something tells you that pressing her buttons would be fun.

What’s the worst that could happen?

ihatethisgame (Teemo): goo goo ga ga

ihatethisgame (Teemo): little baby gonna piss his pants?

lixie001 (Diana): fuck you noob

Oh this was definitely gonna be fun.

The remainder of the game, you continue to stomp this Diana, each of her deaths accompanied by complaints, whines and insults flooding the chat. This makes you laugh, to see this person so depressingly defeated that the only way they can deal with the failure is losing their shit.

Your team thank you when the victory screen flashes on your screen and the final message from lixie001 reads something along the lines of “go touch some grass freak”. How Satisfying.

The assumption that this feud would end alongside the game was wishful thinking; of course your client pings and lo and behold, it’s the person of the hour.

lixie001: fucking scrub, plays were so shitty and playing the noobest champ

ihatethisgame: you talk big for someone who went 0/12

lixie001: lol going 10/1 but probs got a tiny cock

ihatethisgame: bet u couldn’t run your mouth like this irl lmao

lixie001: u wanna bet?

ihatethisgame: i literally already did, idiot

Man, this guy really was a piece of work. You start to wonder if trying to have some fun with him was even worth the trouble. Then, he propositions you with something interesting.

lixie001: fucking 1v1 me where you at

lixie001: come to my pc bang we’ll make a fucking day of me kicking your arse

You have no idea what makes you accept the offer, maybe it was the fact you would be meeting in a public place or maybe it was the comfort of the assumption that you were probably a man; either way an agreement is made. You both decide on time and a place to meet this loser in person and give him the beating (in game) he deserves.

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

Turns out almost every pc bang is filled with sweaty, try hard men with a desk full of doritos and littered with empty cans of monster energy so finding Lixie would prove to be a task that you couldn’t fulfil without begrudgingly questioning the owner; if Lixie spends a lot of time here then he must be infamous. Of course you’re correct, the owner points you towards the middle of the large yet somehow cramped room to a row of PC’s that were mostly unoccupied with dots of empty seats. There, you find a dainty looking boy with brilliantly artificial blonde hair; surely this little thing could not be the behemoth that told you to go fuck yourself? You doubt it even more so when he turns to face you, lips perfectly pouted and a smattering of freckles adorning his face.

“Lixie?” you question.

“That’s me.”

Fuck — his voice is deep; it shakes you to the core. How can a voice like this come from…well, that.

Now your confidence has shaken but only slightly and it almost disappears entirely when Lixie’s lips curve into a smile that you thought unimaginable from a person like him.

“And you’re y/n, huh?” He quizzes, making sure to give you a good look up and down, hands cradling his hips. “You’re what I’m beating? Kinda feel bad for beating a girl.”

Oh. There’s the snark. And the confidence you recently lost.

“Oh I’d watch that smart little mouth of yours,” you grin, taking your jacket off and swinging it over the back of the swivelling seat before setting your ass down.

“You have no idea what’s about to go down.”

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

Perhaps you should have listened to your own words. You have no idea how but now you’re entangled in each other’s arms, lips pressed together, tongues dancing to an imaginary beat as you attempt to find your footing through Lixie’s? Felix’s? Apartment? You’re unsure what you should be calling him and honestly with the feeling of his hands cupping your ass as you manoeuvre your way to the bedroom makes it slip your mind.

“You,” he breathes through breaks in kisses, “Aren’t what I expected.”

“You expected a man don’t lie to me,” you chuckle softly, making quick work of your clothes, tossing your jeans to the darkness. “Didn’t you?”

Felix nods in agreement, too busy removing his own jeans to really find the time to reply properly. Now, in the freedom of just your underwear, you gently shove Felix to the bed so his back comes into contact with the sheets and without hesitation, you sit neatly on his lap.

“Now,” you say, letting your fingers explore the blank canvas of his chest, “You gonna run your stupid little mouth of the way you did before?” Your fingers locate a nipple and pinch it gently for good measure.

“N-no,” he stammers because fuck that feels so good, his voice is weak and quiet — such a beautiful contrast to the first time you’d heard him speak. Unsatisfied, you pinch a little harder and watch him squirm and writhe beneath you.

“No?“ You repeat yourself, beginning to grind your clothed cunt along the growing bulge in his boxers, “Speak up, angel.”

“No!” it’s a little loud but you forgive him, the poor thing's cock is already hard and giving your pussy the most wonderful friction as you dry hump him, your underwear growing damper by the second.

“Good boy,” you say because he really is being so good and so well behaved. It’s a little shocking to see how willingly Felix gives himself to you but you’re definitely not complaining; watching his teeth gnaw on his bottom lip from the sheer pressure on his dick makes you moan. “Do you like feeling Mummy’s pussy on your little cock baby boy?”

Of course he nods — he nods so much you worry about his poor neck. “Yes fuck , it feels so good Mummy.”

You continue like that, gliding your heat along his clothed cock until he’s twitching and squirming, rolling his hips around in a desperate attempt to get you closer, he needs you closer. It’s cute, honestly, you watch him with fond eyes as you cup your own tits, rolling your nipples between your fingertips. Then, an idea comes to you.

“Is my pretty little boy hungry?” You ask, watching how his eyes light up and his lips part only slightly to allow him to breathe the tiniest “yes”. You coo, motioning with a single finger for him to sit up before you offer him your tits; tits he happily latches onto and begins to lap at and suck.

“Oh my pretty baby boy,” you coo once more, threading your fingers through his golden tufts of hair, making sure to give nape of his neck extra attention, “You’re doing so well for me.”

And you mean it, you really do. The way his tongue expertly flicks and sucks at your nipples just perfectly, like his lips were made only for you makes your cunt throb. Felix, still suckling at your tit, glances up at you through thick lashes and moans so adorably. “If you do a good job, Mummy will reward you, my sweet boy.”

That only spurs him on more and you’re surprised to see that his concentration has now turned solely on you; his hips have stopped begging for your pussy and you can tell he so badly needs to be rewarded, so badly needs to fuck you.

By now, the pressure in your pussy is overwhelming and you can’t take it anymore; your soft strokes of his hair come to a slow halt and you tilt his head up to face you with a single finger. “You did so well!”

Felix grins, his angelic smile almost makes you forget all about how horrible he was to you in your first encounter. No, you’ll never forget that and you know he hopes you won’t. For a moment you hum, feigning ignorance on what to do next and Felix huffs.

To this, you lean back on your knees and present your clothed cunt to him, patting it gently before showing Felix just how fucking wet he made you. “You see this?” you say, teasing your clit through your panties. “You want this angel?”

“Please,” he groans with a violent rut of the hips, “I need your pussy Mummy please.” He’s sweating now, chest heaving and you’re intoxicated by how fucking full of want and need he is.

You can’t wait any longer, you hastily make work of his boxers before using two fingers to slowly slide your panties to the side after which you lower you pussy onto his cock; enchanted by the missed feeling of being so fucking full and watching with twisted delight how Felix hisses and gasps.

His hands immediately seek your tits while you bounce ever so gently on his dick, making sure to roll your hips every now and then just to watch how he unravels below you.

“Look at you!” You praise, hips never once halting, “You’re filling me up so good aren’t you?”

“Yes fuck, so tight. So fucking good, shit.”

Felix can’t speak in full sentences, he’s lost the ability to be coherent. All he can think about is how your cunt squeezes so delightfully around his cock and how fucking full your tits feel in the palm of his hand. His head lolls back as your pace quickens, breath hitching in his throat.

“You gonna fill Mummy up, yeah?” one of your hands join his, clasping around them to make him squeeze your tits harder. “Wanna fill my cunt up with your cum, yeah?”

Now he’s really lost it, his hips snap against yours in a random rhythm and your free hand reaches down to rub at your clit while you ride him, desperate yourself to reach the high that was so, so fucking close.

Felix grunts, he squirms and he writhes as his own orgasm teases him — it’s when he catches a glimpse of you bouncing so perfectly and tirelessly playing with your clit that he almost combusts. “I’m gonna cream all over your cock baby boy,” You groan, losing all inhibition, “Wanna cum for you.”

Almost instantly, you feel his cock swell inside you, stretching you so fucking good and then you feel his orgasm approach. Within seconds he’s a moaning mess, cock pumping your little cunt full of cum. This feeling alone is enough to bring you to your own high; your juices soaking Felix’s lap.

In the darkness you lay there, both panting and gasping for breath as you feel the familiar comedown. It’s not until your breathing returns to normal that you realise Felix has his arm tucked neatly around you and you’re far too tired to switch up your positions.

“What did you learn from this?” You try to mask your teasing but of course, Felix can see right through it.

“That I should flame people more often.”

#felix x reader #skz x reader #felix smut #skz smut #mine #lixie

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