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moonstruckme · 3 months

Note

If it interests you, could you maybe do poly!marauders smut surrounding how they would react when reader gives one of the boys a blowjob? If this isn’t comfy for you I apologize immensely. I double checked your rules so hopefully I didn’t overstep or anything. Love your work! Also my middle name is Mae:)))

Honestly babe when I read this I didn’t know if I was comfy with it either (not because of you, just because I didn’t know if I’d be able to write it) but I decided to give it a go and somehow it turned into over 2k words? So thanks!

cw: smut mdni, oral (m receiving), praise, this might be horrible? I can't decide if I hate it

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 2.1k words

Sirius’ kisses have turned sloppy, one of his hands wrapped loosely around your neck while the other wiggles its fingers below the waistband of your jeans, taking greedy handfuls of hip. His hard length presses into your thigh through his pants. You tilt your head, slanting your mouth against his so you can kiss him more deeply, and a low groan rumbles through him.

He plants a chaste kiss on your lips before starting to mark a path downwards.

You know where this is going, and you like where this is going, but still a breathless “wait” slips past your lips.

Sirius pauses, his face hovering over your middle. Next to you on the bed, your boyfriends continue making out, but you can see you’ve caught James’ attention. His eyes open to slits, peeking from beneath his lashes to check on you.

“What’s up?” Sirius asks, rubbing your hip. “Don’t feel like it?”

“No, I just…” you rub your lips together nervously, and you see his eyes drop to the motion. Already large pupils growing larger. “I wanted to know if I can ask you something.”

Sirius’ eyes skim over you, a slow perusal that’s probably meant to deduce the cause of your anxiety but only serves to worsen it. “Sure you can,” he says, tone somewhat gentler than usual. “What is it, sweetness?”

“Could you maybe,” you ask hesitantly, wishing you could lean away from him, as if some distance between you would make this any less embarrassing, “teach me to give you a blowjob?”

Sirius’ lips part in surprise. This time it’s Remus who you catch looking over, a second before James breaks their kiss, sitting up over Remus’ torso.

“You wanna learn?” James asks, lips bitten red and swollen.

You glance between him and Sirius, not quite sure who to look at. “Yeah?” you say, hating the way your voice crawls up into a question.

Sirius’ eyebrows twitch together. “You know you don’t have to,” he says, “right?”

“I know.” You give him a little smile. “I’m just curious, I guess.”

“Okay,” he says. His thumb sweeps over your hip like he knows you need the reassurance. “Yeah, we can show you, gorgeous. Wanna do it sitting down?”

You take a breath, nodding before crawling out from under him and kneeling on the floor by the bed. Sirius follows you, sitting on the edge of the mattress and spreading his legs wide. Your brain buzzes in response to the erection you can see bulging through his pants.

You glance towards the other boys. “Are you guys just going to…watch?”

They’ve both been staring at you, but now James grins sheepishly. “If you don’t mind.”

“We can help, if you’re alright with that,” Remus offers. “Give you tips.”

You can feel your face growing warm at the prospect of them being witness to your bumbling first attempt, but you don’t hate the idea of them coaching you through it.

“M’kay,” you say. “Um, what do I do?”

“Try taking it out, sweetheart.” There’s a bit of laughter in Remus’ voice, but his hand is gentle as he reaches over the edge of the bed, brushing your hair behind your ear.

Your eyes flit up to Sirius’ face. He gives you a smile, and you undo his pants, pulling down the waistband of his underwear so that his length springs free. For a few moments you just look at it, wetting your lips before looking to the boys for direction.

“Here.” James gets down on the floor beside you and takes your hand in his, guiding it to Sirius’ shaft. “You’re probably gonna want to start by holding it like this, okay?” He wraps your fingers around the base. “Good. Now be careful to cover your teeth, and just try putting it in your mouth.”

Just? You glance up at Sirius again, and a bit of pride swells in you at the undisguised lust in his expression.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you tell him softly.

“Me neither,” he jokes, reaching down to thumb affectionately at your cheek. “You won’t hurt me, baby. And you can stop anytime you want, you know that. If you don’t like it, just stop.”

You bob your head, wrap your lips around your teeth, and take him into your mouth before you can think too hard about it. His cock feels odd and weighty on your tongue. You lean forward a bit, seeing how far you can go.

“Breathe through your nose,” Remus instructs. “Try sucking on it, whenever you’re ready.”

You let your jaw relax, sucking experimentally, like you might on a popsicle. Sirius moans.

“Just like that,” he says, voice taking on a thick quality. “Fuck, good job, baby.”

Warmth unfurls in your gut at the praise. You suckle a bit longer, getting used to the feel of him in your mouth before you begin moving slowly forward and backward. After a few tries, your lips are making contact with the curled O of your thumb and forefinger each time. Sirius’ cock twitches in your mouth.

“You’ve got it, angel.” James’ big hand roves the curves of your side, his touch steadying your nerves and stirring that heat in your core. “Don’t rush yourself, but if you wanna take him deeper you can take your hand off.”

You do it without little hesitation, high on praise and the rush of what you’ve already accomplished, and ease more of Sirius’ shaft into your mouth. He puts a hand in your hair to help you along, but then all of a sudden it’s too deep, too big, too much. You gag, choking.

Sirius’ hand disappears instantly, but you’re not so ready to give up. Your throat spasms around the intrusion, vision blurring as you try to breathe through your nose.

“Easy,” Remus murmurs.

You finally can’t stand it anymore, pulling away and drawing in a gasping breath.

“Shit,” Sirius says, and you lift your teary eyes to his embarrassedly while James rubs your back. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you manage, swallowing. “Sorry.”

His eyes go soft. “Don’t be sorry, you did great. Do you wanna stop now?”

You shake your head. “I think I just need a second.”

He nods, and there’s a few seconds of quiet, James' hand coasting up and down your spine. “Do you think a demonstration would help?’ he asks.

You swipe under your lashes, looking over at him curiously. “Um, maybe? I’m not sure.”

He exchanges a quick look with Remus before grinning, shuffling closer to where he sits at the edge of the bed and taking off his glasses. “Here. Sirius, talk her through what I’m doing, yeah?”

Sirius seems about as transfixed by what’s about to happen as you are, but he nods. James does as you had, taking Remus’ cock out of his pants, and there’s no need to get it warmed up after the show you’ve been giving them. He feeds it right into his mouth. Remus groans as James takes his entire length expertly, fisting a hand in the other boy’s curly hair.

“Right. Um, see how he’s breathing deep through his nose?” Sirius clears his throat, voice noticeably rough as he watches James’ lips move over Remus’ shaft. “He’s keeping his throat relaxed, not moving back and forth too much.”

You watch as James’ mouth grows wet with spit and slick, his eyes watering a bit as he fights his gag reflex. His throat bobs, and Remus swears, his grip tightening on James’ hair.

“And when he swallows,” Sirius manages, “his throat tightens, which is…uh, nice.”

Remus lets out a breathy, half-delirious laugh at Sirius’ commentary. His cheeks are flushed red from pleasure and the attention, and it’s not long before curses start to spew from his mouth and he goes rigid, cuming down James’ throat. James swallows, grinning up at him. Lips and eyes shiny.

You and Sirius watch them for a few seconds longer, entranced by the sight of your boyfriends.

“Okay.” You clear your throat. “Um, thanks.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Remus says weakly, and you have to swallow a laugh.

You turn to Sirius. “I think I’m ready to try.”

He gestures as if to say Go right ahead, and you take his shaft in your hand, guiding it back into your mouth. Once again, it takes time to adjust to the feeling, but this time when his head hits the back of your throat you’re ready for it. You breathe steadily through your mouth, focussing on staying relaxed as you suck gently.

“There you go, angel,” James praises, putting his glasses back on to watch you. “You’re taking him so well.”

“Fucking yeah she is,” Sirius agrees, voice growing reedy as he starts to pant. You take one of his legs to steady yourself, hand wrapping around a tattoo on his thigh. “Look at me, baby.”

You lift your watery eyes to his, finding the stormcloud gray nearly eclipsed by dark pupil. The raw want in them makes your cunt throb. Sirius must find your face nearly as arousing, because he mutters another quiet, Fuck.

You’re distantly conscious of Remus shuffling back to the edge of the bed, and then he’s laying his head on his arms, gazing down at you. “Look at you, such a quick learner,” he hums. “You’re doing such a good job, sweetheart. Making him feel so good.”

“Look at her eyes,” James says, just loud enough so you can hear. You know they’re aware of what their words are doing to you, of the wetness pooling in your underwear. “She looks so pretty like this, doesn’t she?”

“She does,” Remus agrees. “Our pretty girl.”

You move a bit more surely over Sirius’ length, constricting your throat tentatively. Sirius moans loudly, his hand twitching toward you before he stops it. You take it in yours, setting it on the back of your head so he can guide you the way he wants.

“Fuck, that’s my girl,” he pants, tangling his hand in your hair. “So good f’me.”

You make a small, pleasurable sound, and another moan slips from between his lips, his hand urging you closer. You breathe through it when his cock sponges against the back of your throat, starting to enjoy the odd sensation of your mouth and throat being so deliciously full—and, if you’re being honest with yourself, the feeling of knowing you’re doing well. And if Sirius’ increasingly loud curses and the other boys’ murmured praise are anything to go by, you’re doing rather well.

“God, I wish you could see how you look right now,” James says, voice smooth as velvet as he drops a kiss on your shoulder. “You’re so lovely.”

“Fucking hot, s’what she is,” Sirius insists, brows coming together so urgently you wonder for a second if he’s in pain. “Fuck. Shit, where can I cum?”

You don’t take your mouth off his cock, doing your best to communicate with your eyes. Sirius seems to get the message, his grip on your hair tightening, pulling at your scalp as his thigh tenses under your hand. You swallow hurriedly, and the sounds that leave him will echo in your dreams for the rest of the week, loud, pleady moans interspersed with mangled curses. Your mouth fills with warm wetness, and you ease him out of your throat before swallowing again.

“There we are.” James tugs you gently away when he realizes neither you or Sirius are moving, pulling you half into his lap. “You did it, sweetheart, great job.”

He strokes his thumb under your eyes for you, wiping away the wetness there as Remus watches you move your tongue around in your mouth funnily.

“You alright?” he asks you.

You nod. “Tastes different than I thought it would,” you say.

James laughs, the sound bright and clear. He plants a smacking kiss on your cheek.

“Not bad, I hope,” Sirius says, voice still a bit stringy. He leans back on his elbows, watching you from the bed.

You feel color rise to your cheeks. “No. Not bad.”

His lips quirk up, eyes steady on yours. “That was fucking killer,” he tells you, “especially for your first time. Thanks for that, gorgeous.”

You grin bashfully, dropping your eyes. James clears his throat loudly.

“Right, right, and thank you for the demonstration,” Sirius adds. “Very instructive.”

James beams, but Sirius only pats the bed next to him.

“Why don’t you hop up here so I can give you a real thanks?”

Impossibly, James’ smile widens. He’s quick to obey, Sirius moving to take his place on the floor. Your lips part, and you hear Remus chuckle. You turn to find his amber eyes watching you. They linger on your lips, still glossy and swollen.

“Y’want me to help you out too, sweetheart?” He juts his chin toward the bed, a silent request for you to lie down. “Seems only fair, doesn’t it.”

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amentomensmut · 5 months

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using a vibrator on mike 18+

mike schmidt x gender neutral reader

note: this is short but this ask was SO good i had to write something immediately. thank u anon.

wc: 500+

based on this ask

---------------------------------

When you suggested trying out your new vibrator to Mike, he certainly hadn’t thought you meant on him.

“Are you-, are you sure? I’ve never um, you know. Used one on myself.” You could tell Mike was flustered, his cheeks painted a light pink at the thought. However, you could see he was open to the idea, and you softly bit your lip at the thought of seeing Mike whining and whimpering while you teased his cock with your vibrator.

“Well, that’s okay. I can show you, baby.” You said, and you gave him a reassuring smile, letting him know he could say no if he wanted to.

“I want to try it.” He had said. So you led him to your shared bedroom, which is where you had him now.

He was lying on your bed, his cock painfully hard and the tip red and leaking precum. His chest was rid of his shirt and in its place a thin layer of sweat. You hadn’t even used the vibrator on him yet, you were just teasing him and he was this hard. You ran your nails up and down his bare thighs and he threw his head back, whimpering at the sensation.

“Please, sweetheart. N-need more.” He begged. You grabbed the small bullet vibrator that lay beside you on the bed and turned it on. Even though it was small, it was powerful and a smile appeared on your face at the vibrating sensation in your hand. You trailed the vibrator up his thigh and back down, doing the same thing on his other thigh. Mike was squirming, and you watched as his dick twitched against his stomach.

You grabbed his cock in one hand, as you held the vibrator in the other. You watched Mike’s face as you slowly trailed the vibrator up from the base of his cock to the tip. Mike let out a loud moan, bucking his hips up into your hand. You squeezed the base of his dick, scolding him for moving and he let out a whine. You watched his tummy tense as you moved the vibrator up and down his cock in slow movements. God, he looked so pretty and you let out a moan of your own just from pleasuring Mike.

You finally brought the vibrator up to the tip of his cock, circling it around it. He let out a series of whines and the poor boy looked like he was about to cry. Precum was running steadily from his tip down to his balls and you leaned over him, letting some of your own spit lubricate him. His cock was so wet, and he was throbbing in your hand. He looked at you, his eyes heavy lidded and half closed as he begged you to cum.

“Can I cum? Please? Fuck, it feels s’good.” He slurred.

“Yeah baby, cum for me. Good boy, that’s it.” You cooed. You brought the vibrator back up to the tip of his cock once again, and he came. His legs shook as he came, and his chest heaved as he whimpered and panted. Cum coats your hands and his stomach, the tip of his dick swollen.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He repeated over and over again. You turned the vibrator off and threw it on the bed beside you.

“Anytime, baby.” You replied with a smile.

#josh hutcherson #mike schmidt #josh hutcherson smut #mike schmidt x reader #smut #mike schmidt smut #fnaf #fnafmovie

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talkdutchtome · 9 months

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You Should Have Said No Chapter Two - It's Nice to Have a Friend

pairing . . . max verstappen x reader / pierre gasly x reader )

summary . . . when your fiancé cheats on you, you strike up an unusual friendship with one of his closest friends, who just so happens to have had a crush on you since he set eyes on you. chaos ensues.

inspired by the works of miss taylor swift )

genre . . . angst )

song . . . it's nice to have a friend- taylor swift)

warning . . . cheating, mental illness, angst, eventual smut, poorly translated french and dutch, swearing, mention of parent loss, emotionally abusive parent, slight social media au, kendall jenner as fc (potentially more i’ll add as i go along)

series masterlist . . . available here )

A banging came from the front door, jolting you awake and making you fall off the sofa in the process. When Pierre left you decided the best thing to do was sleep, not wanting to be awake and deal with the crushing pain, but after 30 minutes of writhing around in bed, the scent of Pierre lingering on the sheets, you realised that sleeping in the bed you shared with your fiancé was going to be impossible, so you resorted to the sofa.

The banging started again, worried it was Pierre coming back, you ignored it. “Y/N let me in, Y/N” You heard a voice call, a voice that didn’t belong to Pierre. It was Max’s voice. You stood up and began walking to the door, you stopped at a mirror in the hallway looking at your reflection. Your hair was messy, your face red and blotchy, your eyes swollen from crying, black mascara tears stained on your cheeks. You thought about tiding yourself up a bit, not wanting to look too pathetic when you open the door; but you quickly realised that it was a lost cause and continued walking to the door.

“Y/N, hi” Max spoke as the door swung open, looking at you with soft eyes. He wanted to reach up to you and pull you into a bear hug, lord knows it looked like you needed it. But he decided not to, worried that it would make you uncomfortable.

“Um hi Max, what are you doing here?” You asked, genuinely confused why he was stood at your door, he told you because you deserved to know but he was Pierre’s friend, his former teammate.

“I wanted to-“ he started and then paused “Can I come in?”

You opened the door wider and step to the side allowing him to enter, silently answering his question.

“How did you know where w- where I live?” You asked puzzled, Max and Pierre hadn’t been as close as they once were over the past few years so he hasn’t been to your apartment before.

“I phoned Charles, I was worried about you when you hung up the phone and I thought, well I thought if I were in your position, I wouldn’t want to be alone” he spoke, his hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck.

“When you spoke to Charles did you tell him?” You asked.

“No, I didn’t, but he already knew, I guess, he asked me to give you a hug from him.” You smiled at the Dutchman’s words, Charles is Pierre’s best friend so even though that’s who Pierre would have gone to straight away, looking for support, Charles still had you in his thoughts, truly caring for you. The silence sat in the room and made its presence ever clear, this being only one of a few if any conversations just between the two of you, aside of course from the conversation you had with him earlier in the day, the one that caused your world to come crashing down. Feeling nervous, you began to play with the ring sat on your left hand, you didn’t even clock the significance until you saw Max looking down at the ring. The ring Pierre gave you months ago when he asked you to marry him, when he told you that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. You thought about taking the ring off, you know you should. You definitely aren’t engaged anymore, but for some reason you can’t, not wanting to let go of that part of your life yet.

You looked up to find Max watching you, an unreadable expression on his face. “Have you eaten today?” He asks you and that takes you by surprise, you weren’t sure what he was going to say to you after watching you so intently but that certainly wasn’t it.

“No, I uh no I haven’t” he stood up and began walking to the kitchen, “May I?” He asks gesturing towards the oven. Was he asking if he could cook for you? You nodded slowly, still unsure what he was doing here. He began after seeing your confirmation, starting with cleaning up the mess from the breakfast you had started to make this morning. For a second you want to ask him to stop, not to clean up and get rid of the last thing you did before your life changed forever. You don’t though, realising you can’t keep burnt bacon as a souvenir from a better time. Snapping out from your thoughts you see Max begin making a pasta dish, for a second you catch yourself smiling, this man had absolutely no loyalties to you, he didn’t have betray Pierre and tell you what happened, but he did. He didn’t have to come and check up on you, but he did. He certainly didn’t have to look after you and make sure you eat, but that’s what he was doing.

“You go and sit down; I’ll bring this through when I’m done”.

You smiled again before following his instructions.

He walked into the room 15 minutes later, carrying a delicious smelling plate of food in. “Here” he passes it to you, his hand lightly brushing against yours as he did so. “Thank you” you said smiling at him before beginning to eat. He sat with you in silence again, but this time the awkwardness wasn’t there, instead it was comfortable. Max knew that you probably weren’t in the mood for talking, but he also knew you probably didn’t want to be alone either, so he was more than happy to sit with you in silent company.

You sat next to each other on the sofa for a while longer, almost exclusively in silence, until Max noticed you started to yawn. “I should leave then, I hope you’re okay, please phone me if you need me, I’ll make sure to keep my phone on loud.” He said to you and again you were taken aback by the care shown by a man who owed nothing to you. You thanked him and assured him you would let him know if you needed him. He nodded and began walking to the door. You hesitated before speaking “Max wait.” He turned back around and was about to ask what was wrong but before he could get the words out of his mouth you were in his arms hugging him, he hesitated for a second before wrapping his arms around you tight, pulling you closer into him.

Pulling back, you looked up at him before you spoke “For Charles.” He smiled, looking in your sad eyes staring up at him. “Yeah, for Charles”

When he left, the same silence that had felt comfortable in just 5 minutes ago became heavy. Without Max here to distract you from the devastation, the crushing feeling became more apparent. You thought about looking at your phone, maybe even texting Max a quick thank you, but you quickly realised that on your phone you would find dozens of messages from Pierre. Quickly changing your mind, you went straight to the sofa to sleep, not even bothering to attempt to use the bed.

The ringing of your alarm woke you up at 10am the next morning, an unwelcome wake up call considering the disturbed sleep you had from sleeping on the sofa. The first thing you did was walk into your bedroom and strip the bed, putting the old bedding in the washing and putting a brand-new set of sheets on. Happy with yourself for coming up with a solution for that problem, you got to work on completing other tasks that needed to be done; you showered, and you tidied up the house. Then finally after feeling as refreshed as you possibly could, you moved on to the one task you truly did not want to do. Letting out a shaky breath you reached for your phone, it had sat unmoved from the kitchen table, where it was when one 5-minute conversation with Max Verstappen changed her whole life.

Opening it up, messages from four people filled her screen: Pierre, Max, Charles and Rebecca from work. The last name made you curse, it reminded you of the one thing you did not want to be reminded of, the flight to Spain you were scheduled to take with your fiancé in time for the Spanish GP. When Pierre asked you to quit your job as a photographer to follow him around the world all those years ago, you said no, not wanting your entire life to be boiled down to who you were in a relationship with. But when he asked and asked, when he told you how crazy he was going being away from you for weeks on end, you said yes. He got you a job with Formula 1 and you loved it. You loved the work you did, and you loved getting to travel the world with the love of your life, or at least you used to.

Frowning, you moved on to the other text messages, starting with Charles.

Charles Leclerc

Y/N Pierre has just turned up here in a state, he won’t talk. What’s happened?

Okay so he told me what happened, I cannot believe he did that. Please message me as soon as you get this, I need to know that you’re okay.

Y/N, just so you know, Max called asking for your address, I’m not sure why but expect him at your door soon

You smiled to yourself at the love and concern Charles had for you. You wouldn’t have blamed him if he didn’t reach out, if he put his entire focus on his best friend. You quickly typed a reply.

Y/N Y/LN

Hey Charles, sorry for not getting back to you sooner. I am okay, just. I really don’t want to talk about it right now though.

Turning to the next set of messages, you noticed they were from Pierre.

Mon amour

Cheri, please let me come home, let’s talk about this.

Please Y/N I’m so sorry.

I love you Cheri, you have to know that.

What is happening with our plans today, when can I come round to get my stuff, are you still coming? I need to know the flights in a few hours.

You couldn’t bring yourself to reply, mostly because you didn’t know the answer to his question. Moving on you saw the next messages were from Max.

Max Verstappen

Hey Y/N, I’m sorry for having to tell you that, but you needed to know. I hope you’re okay.

Good morning Y/N, I hope you’re doing okay today. Just a reminder that I’m always here.

You smiled at the messages, once again the care this man showed for you..

Y/N Y/LN

Hi Max, thank you for yesterday. I’ve been better but yeah, I’m okay thank you.

Max Verstappen

I’m glad to hear it. Is there anything I can do for you today?

Y/N Y/LN

No I don’t think so thank you. Today will be spent trying to find a new way to get to Spain ready for the shoot tomorrow haha.

Max Verstappen

I have space on my jet?

Y/N Y/LN

Thank you but you really don’t need to do that. I’ll find a way; worst case I guess I’ll just catch the flight with Pierre.

Max Verstappen

No don’t be silly, you’re coming. I have a space and you need a way to get there.

I’ll be there in 45 minutes, be ready.

Your breath hitched at those last messages, you thought about standing your ground and telling him no, but he was right. You need to get there and the last thing you want is to sit on a plane with Pierre. Quickly firing off a message to Pierre to let him know you’ll be making your own way there and that he can come over in an hour to collect his stuff as that’s when you’ll be gone. You began to gather your stuff and prepare to leave.

The time passed quickly and eventually you received another text message from Max letting you know he had arrived. You felt nerves swirl around your stomach as you walked downstairs and approached the car. Opening the door, you saw that Max was sat in the driver's seat, the passenger seat was empty and in the back of the car sat Daniel Ricciardo and Lando Norris.

“Hey Y/N, I saved you a seat. Have you got everything you need?” He asked smiling warmly at you tapping the seat next to him. You could feel pity in the eyes of Daniel and Lando, you knew Lando knew as he was there when it happened, but somebody had clearly told Daniel too.

“Yeah, I do, thank you very much for this, I really appreciate it.” you replied climbing into the very fancy sports car.

“Oh, please you’re doing me a favour, I didn’t particularly want to spend an hour in a confined space with those two back there.” he joked, clearly sensing your nervousness and wanting to help you feel at ease.

“Ignore him Y/N, he loves us really” you heard an Australian voice joke come from behind us. You never had much to do with Daniel; but you knew his reputation for being the most likeable guy on the grid and after just a car ride with him you had to agree.

Boarding Max’s jet felt like something out of movie, you had never experienced anything like this before, usually just flying business class with Pierre. Lando and Daniel sat next to each other, sharing a knowing glance with each other when they left you to sit next to Max, but you didn’t notice, too transfixed with looking at your surroundings. You sat next to Max, opposite the two other men on the plane and the conversation started flowing. It surprised you, how easily the conversation came between you and the three men, with you not spending much time with them at all before this. Eventually Lando and Daniel were asleep, you felt yourself not too far behind. Just as you were drifting asleep, you heard Max’s nervous voice begin speaking.

“Y/N, I hope you don’t think I'm being too forward here by the way; I just have been in your situation, and I know most of your friends around here are Pierre’s friends too.. And I guess I just didn’t want you to be alone.”

His words made your heart flutter, a feeling that took you by surprise, but you didn’t think much of it.

“No Max, I don’t. Honestly, It’s Nice to Have A Friend.” You replied before closing your eyes and starting to sleep. Max didn’t say anything else after that, he just leant over and very gently kissed the top of your head.

Taglist-

@hiraethrhapsody @ironmaiden1313 @dudenhaaa27 @aundercover @dearlovelys

#f1 x reader #f1 smut #max verstappen #lando norris #formula 1 #max verstappen smut #pierre gasly smut #pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader #max verstappen x reader #charles lecrelc #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly x oc #max verstappen x oc #max verstappen x y/n #f1 fanfic #fanfic #f1 imagine

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matthew-gray-gublers-babygirl · 11 months

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Pregnancy

Summary: The reader finds herself pregnant and fear rises as she realizes she has to tell her partner, Matthew.

Pairing: Matthew Gray Gubler x Female Reader

Content: No swearing; mention of periods, morning sickness, pregnancy & describing pregnancy; fear of rejection and abandonment; soft Matthew & good ending! If there are any other warnings you'd prefer I add please mention them in the notes!

Wordcount: 1k>

Enjoy!

Matthew was great with children. He absolutely adored kids and couldn't wait to have his own someday. So when you realized you may be with child, you couldn't wait to take a test and announce the possible news. But at the same time, even with Matthew's positive attitude towards being a father, you were still terrified to tell him. You knew you had to tell him soon. He was very attentive to your cycle. He always gave you extra cuddles and made no excuses for late-night convenience store trips to settle your cravings, so when you went too long without complaining about your period, he would know something was different.

So when your period didn't come on its usual date and you had random flashes of nausea in the mornings, you decided to buy a few at-home pregnancy tests. You did all three and let them sit for the needed amount of time for the result to show. The dreaded five minutes felt like a lifetime. It took every ounce of restraint in your body to not check them before the timer went off. All three were positive. You were overjoyed that you were pregnant, but the fear of rejection and abandonment soon crept up.

Shaking as you sat on the toilet, all three positive tests in your hands, you went over your options in your head. Terminating the pregnancy was an option, but you had both been wanting to start a family for years, and you didn't want to waste this opportunity.

After almost half an hour and many warm tears down your cheeks, you decided to break the news to Matthew once he arrived home from set today. You look down at your watch, the miniature clock reading four o’clock. He should be home anytime soon.

You begin to tidy up the house a bit and made something to eat for when Matthew arrives home. You caught yourself holding your stomach, imagining it round with your child. You reminisce about the memories and love that went into creating such a beautiful thing. You imagine Matthew pressing his lips against your swollen stomach, whispering heartfelt words to your unborn child and murmuring against your lips how much of a wonderful mother you are going to be once your little bundle of joy is ready to come out.

You hear the door swing open and Matthew's loud voice reverberates throughout the house. “Guess who!” You straighten yourself out, take a deep breath in and slowly let it out before greeting him at the entrance. “It’s me, Gube,” he jokes, taking you by the waist and kissing you. “Hey, babe,” he smiles.

You notice his arm hidden behind his back and he whips a bouquet of flowers from behind himself. “What are these for?” you ask with a smile. “I saw them on my way home and they reminded me of you,” he explains. “My pretty girl deserves some pretty flowers.” This small gesture helps put you at ease and calms your nerves. “I love them,” you smile as you take them to the kitchen to put them in a vase. Once you place the flowers in a nice spot in the sun, you ask Matthew to sit down.

“Oh, sure. What’s up?” he asks. Now he was the nervous one. You sit down on the vintage upholstered loveseat in the living room. You try to muster up the courage and the words to explain the situation, but all that comes out are unconfident words and tears. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong, baby? You know you can trust me,” Matthew whispers as he wraps an arm around you. You wipe away the small tears and take another affirming breath.

“You, um- You know how you love kids, and say that you always wanted to be a father?” Matthew knew exactly what you meant. “Are you… Wait are you pregnant?” you nod at his question and watch as the biggest smile appears on his face.

“Oh, baby,” he kisses you like he hadn't seen you in years, like a lover away at war. “Baby, we’re- Oh. we’re having a baby, a- a baby!” You had never seen him this happy before. “We’re having a baby,” you confirm, and he kisses you again, and again, and again. Youre surprised his lips werent chapped from how many times he kissed you.

“When did you find out?” Matthew asks as his hand instinctively lands on your stomach, gently rubbing the bump-less flesh. “Today, just before you got home. I was scared, but I couldn't wait to tell you,” you explain. He kisses your cheeks, then your forehead. “Oh, love. There was no reason to be scared. I Love you and I will love you until I’m dead and when this earth ceases to exist. And I love our baby, even if they aren't here yet. If they're even an ounce similar to you, I will love them forever.”

You knew Matthew was the romantic type, but you had never seen him like this. You knew he was going to be a great father, and you couldn’t wait a minute more.

#fanfiction #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler fanfiction #matthew gray gubler imagine #mgg x reader #mgg imagine #mgg x y/n #matthew gray gubler x reader

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ddejavvu · 1 year

Note

hey! i just broke up w my bf of almost two years today and have been really sad.

I wanted to thank you for your works bc there helping me get through this. your hotch x reader works are keeping me sane

idk if your interested but maybe a request of reader breaking up with their partner and is very sad was bc they were so busy w the bau and life so they think its best and hotch is there for her and comforts them. he has feelings for them but doesnt want to make a move bc yk newly single. but he does little things to make her feel better bc he likes to see her smile :)

this is completely self service so you dont have to write but i love you works i think ur my fav writer on here :) i hope all is well love 💜

hi lovey! first off, i'm so sorry that you're going through a breakup. I hope that this can help even just a little bit, please take care of yourself and eat something yummy <333

Today holds new experiences for both you and Aaron. For example, you've never seen him in sweatpants before, and he's never seen you with 4 hours worth of tear-induced eye bags.

As luck would have it, when you turn into the tissue aisle, the metal bars of another cart smash into your own. They weren't going fast, but you were, hellbent on getting what you need and getting out again, so the screeching of metal on metal only makes your headache worse.

"Sorry," You rush, keeping your eyes averted as you yank your cart away from the other. You keep conversation short, but the voice that comes from the person you'd just rammed into makes you stiffen instinctually.

"Y/N?"

It's Hotch.

It's your boss, the man who you try extra hard to be nothing but professional around. The man who's seen you only in perfectly dry cleaned pantsuits and neat hair is seeing you in pajama pants and crocs with a nose so swollen it looks like you've been stung by a bee.

"Hotch," You cringe, nodding politely as you try maneuvering your cart around his, "Sorry for bumping into you. I was in a hurry."

"I can see that," He grabs onto the bars of your cart to stop you from pushing it anywhere, and you chance a cautious look up at his face; his brow is knit in concern, and his eyes are shining with the same look. But your glance upwards reveals that his son is with him, a boy no more than four years old sitting in the cart and looking at you with a tiny hint of terror on his little face, something that probably stems from your no-makeup zombie look. He's mid-chew on a tiny handful of popcorn that he'd probably begged his dad for at the front.

"What happened?" Aaron asks, pulling your attention back to him, and you're slightly relieved he doesn't go for 'Are you alright?'. Clearly, you're not.

"Uh," You sniffle, chuckling dryly, "Bad breakup. Just- getting some tissues, that's all."

"Oh." He hums, hand loosening on your cart, "I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Um," You glance around the store, knowing not many people are there, but it would still be weird to open up a therapy session in the TP aisle, "No, it's okay. Thank you, though. Really, I appreciate it."

"Okay," Aaron nods, though none of the concern has left his expression, "But if you'd like to some other time, please remember I'm here if you need me. Even if it's late, if you need help I'll give it to you."

His sincerity brings a fresh wave of tears to your eyes that he smiles sadly at, and you smear a hand over your eyes to get rid of them, "Thanks, Hotch."

"Mhm," He hums, looking ready to let you go until his son hooks a chubby fist into his shirt.

"Hm?" Aaron looks down, and leans his head next to Jack's when the little boy tugs him closer.

They huddle for a moment, Jack whispering into Aaron's ear, and the man's hand tightens around your cart once more. Just when you thought you'd escaped.

"I think you should." Aaron nods, straightening up, glancing over, and nodding his head towards you, "Go ahead, buddy."

Jack looks up at you with that same hint of apprehension you'd seen earlier, but he digs a fist into his popcorn bucket and extends the hand to you. You actually feel your heart melting, the organ liquifying and dripping through your ribcage to pool like goo in your stomach.

"Uh- maybe," Aaron reaches for the bucket, intent on giving you a handful that hasn't touched sticky toddler hands, but you take Jack's offering without hesitation.

"Thank you, honey," You croon, and he drops the kernels into your open palm, "That does help, popcorn makes me much less sad."

"Daddy makes it for movie night." Jack's voice is soft and sweet, and you smile, sniffling weakly once more.

"Really? That sounds fun, what movies do you watch?"

"We're watching Monsters University tonight," Aaron informs you, then his posture straightens as an idea blooms in his brain, "Y'know, if popcorn makes you less sad, I think you should come and have some with us."

"Oh," Your eyes widen slightly, and you shake your head on impulse, "No, that's okay. I couldn't-"

"I'm asking you to." It's the firm voice Aaron uses whenever he's giving someone orders around the office; you suppose he can't separate his work life and home life completely.

"I don't like the thought of you being alone," Aaron admits, eyeing the ice cream already in your cart, "How about we pick up another pint and head to checkout?"

"I'll be okay," You reach for a package of tissues, extra large, "Don't worry about it, Aaron."

You don't see it, but Aaron pinches Jack's side lightly, spurring the boy into action.

"Please come over tonight," Jack begs, and you swear he's making his eyes shiny on purpose, "Mike Wazowski is funny, and you can't be sad if you're watching something funny."

Aaron raises his eyebrows at you, and you see the faint hint of a smirk playing at his lips; got you.

You take a deep breath in, speaking on the exhale, "Alright. Um, can I bring anything else?"

"Pajamas, maybe." Aaron hums, "Movie nights are always better in pajamas."

You glance disdainfully down at your outfit, ragged pajama pants and a sweatshirt, "Check."

"Perfect," Aaron chuckles, finally letting go of your cart and turning it towards the ice cream aisle, "Let's go, buddy, if Y/N's coming over tonight, you need a bath. She doesn't wanna sit with a stinky boy."

"I'm not stinky!" Jack insists, looking like he's never been more offended in his life.

Aaron leans in, theatrically sniffing at the space near Jack's shoulder. He bugs his eyes out, turning his head to the side and fake-coughing, "Woah."

Jack roars with laughter at his dad's dramatics, feet kicking at his Aaron's stomach, and the sound of his giggles make the popcorn you're munching on taste a little bit sweeter.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction

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kaisfuckingcumslut · 26 days

Text

ROUGH SEX

[PART ONE]

Me and Kai are making out while the the front door closes. He mutters "get those fucking clothes off" while his tounge is deep in my mouth, we french kiss like filthy hungry animals. Kai is trying to remove his coat and he tosses it to the floor. I can feel his erection rub against me through his pants as we continue to kiss passionately.

"Mmmm you taste so good babe." I tell him as i keep kissing this beautiful man. Some of my clothes were off but not all of them.

Kai chuckles darkly looking at me and then the bed. "What did i say about taking your clothes off??" He scowls, his eyebrows furrowing.

For a moment he raises his voice and it gets tense... not knowing what to say, i stutter in confusion "well i uh..um i thought you were joking for a little bit .."

Kai walks towards me and pushes me down on the bed agressively "I MEANT WHAT I SAID YOU GODDAMN WHORE!!" Then he violently rips my shirt open, my titties and bra pop out. He gazes at my chest in awe. "Fuck ..."

Kai is rude, ruthless and rough. That only turns me on more. That's exactly what i love about him.

I'm sitting on the bed in front of him and he rips open my bra with brute stregnth. His blue hair sways infront of his forhead and sticks to his sweaty skin. He smiles , his dimples making deep indents.

*gasps* "KAI!"

He sneers and looks at me, then dives in for one of my breasts, feeling his tounge touch my sensitive nipple with the lap of his tounge. Kai begins to french kiss my tit and sucks on my nipple, nibbling it gently and using the tip of his tounge to tease and flick my nipple between his teeth. He continues kissing my breast making my nipples harder. Making my panties soaked.

I'm moaning and the sound of my moan is driving him crazy, he moans back while groping my thigh and carressing his big beautiful hand up and down, gripping on my thigh hard. Clearly wanting more. Giving into his dirty thoughts. The way he grabs onto my skin is so tight, the desperation in his breath, the hottness radiating from his body.

I can feel his fingers dig into my skin.

Kai gives it one last lick and hovers over me. "You don't know how much i love you. How beautiful you are... How badly i crave you... how much i want to fuck your brains out right now." He whispers 'i love you' into my ear and begins kissing and suckling on my neck, making my back arch more. He grinds his body into me while i can still feel his erection rub on through his pants. The buldge is so tight, its so swollen. Just feeling him rub it on me is making me so hot. I want him to fuck me so bad right now.

The room is getting hotter from sexual tension and anticipation. Everytime we kiss, we both get a rush and feel more excited than the last lip bite. Kai whispers "Be a good little slut for daddy and i might give you what you want..." he grinds his hips more slowly and kisses my lips one more time. He looks at me with lust in his eyes and leans down to taste my kiss again.

"You got my fucking dick hard before the annual meeting. Mm heheh ...You'll have to behave yourself if you want to bounce on daddy's fat cock tonight." He smiles wickedly.

...

To be continued*

Thank you for reading btw!

This is my very first post 🖤

#ahs cult #kai anderson #fanfic #ahs fandom #evan peters #smut #fem reader

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musings-of-miss-j · 3 months

Text

no rest for the wicked (nor the foolish)

part three: in which you're further reminded of the doctor's unsavoury methods while childe and a mysterious stranger occupy your thoughts

a harbingers x gn reader series!! (includes dottore, childe, arlecchino and pantalone x reader. the rest of the harbingers will most likely not be romantic interests)

notes: slowest burn that ever did burn, snarky and a tiny bit socially anxious reader, gn reader who is occasionally referred to as 'miss', fluff, crack

warnings: G O R E . blood, unethical scientific experimentation, minor character death, dottore is his own warning and frankly the reader is a little morally questionable too, reader experiences a small identity crisis and kills a man, attempted drugging (dottore tries to place the reader under the influence of a truth serum)

please let me know if you find any pronoun slips!!

series masterlist

word count: 5539 words

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚** ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚** ੈ✩‧₊˚*

“Oh, Lord Two? Um… At twenty to three.” Anya told you.

You cursed softly under your breath. It was half past two, so you teetered just on the edge of being late, considering how difficult it was to navigate the ridiculous labyrinth- like palace. You grabbed your best copy of your thesis, the typewritten one you’d paid an outrageous amount for in Fontaine, as well as your notes on your current research; elemental magic and the human body. It’s quite ambitious, the sage of your Darshan had told you, which roughly translated to ‘you’re completely insane if you have even an inkling of hope that this is a worthy investment of your resources.’

After carefully placing the stack of paper into the slim wooden casing Tighnari had made for you, you grabbed your room key and ushered Anya out while flipping through your notebook for the map you’d drawn. You locked your door before all but sprinting towards the spiral staircases, taking the steps two at a time. You were out of breath by the time you reached the landing, but the humiliating prospect of being late was enough incentive to maintain the brisk pace despite the searing stitch that grew in your side. (Cyno would roll his eyes and bracingly tell you that even a scholar needed regular exercise, and damn him for being right.) Several twists and turns and anxious glances at your pocket watch and notebook later, you arrived at the door with four minutes to spare. With a pleased huff, you rebalanced your glasses on your nose and ran your finger down the seam of the door and wall. The words flickered sky blue, and it eased open when you thought please. Telepathic magic at its finest.

you took care not to seem winded as you entered the laboratory. The Doctor had his back to you, focused on something out of your sight. You heard faint whimpering, and when you approached you were a little sickened to see a man strapped to the vivisection table. He was clearly drugged, eyes wide and pupils dilated, and the Doctor methodically pulled a long, red string from a tiny gash in his inner elbow. With a jolt of revulsion, you realised that the string was the man’s arteries. Archons above. You knew the Doctor was morally dubious at best, but surely he could’ve conducted such an experiment on a fresh corpse and yielded similar results. Bruises littered the man’s face, yet the rest of his body was perfectly intact, not a single broken bone though one of his eyes was swollen and his lip bled from a deep gash. Even the clothes he wore didn’t bear signs of extreme wear, not ragged or bloodstained. No more violence than necessary. You clenched your teeth. The subject must remain in a semi-controlled state to ensure validity of the experiment. His sleeve was tidily rolled up to his elbow, but the incision from which the Doctor withdrew the arteries gushed blood in a wavering rhythm; that of his heartbeat, which slowly but surely dwindled. The Doctor didn’t even look up from the forceps he was using to carefully draw out the blood vessels, inch by inch, when you approached him and the test subject. The man spotted you, and even in his delirious state he began to thrash and unintelligibly beg around the gag in his mouth. Distaste swelled in the back of your throat; he hadn’t even been granted the dignity of unconsciousness. The restraints caused blisters and redness where they touched his skin, a sure indicator that he’d been strapped there for a few hours at least. You grimaced, but resolutely kept your eyes on him as the Doctor (ha. The Doctor) slowly, methodically, lovingly pulled out his lifeline. You didn’t deserve the comfort of looking away.

The experiment was familiar. The Akademiya sages, blasted hypocrites they were, had utilised it time and time again; the awful nature of the tests they conducted was a well-known and universally unacknowledged secret. So really, you didn’t even have the luxury of claiming yourself innocent or different from the Doctor. You’d known, just as well as any Akademiya student had known, that lives whittled away like wood chips at a carpenter’s workshop within the walls of the building you’d called home, and you’d done nothing to stop it. For science, you’d let yourselves think. For philosophy, for the good of humanity, for art, even! Looking at the Doctor now, his mask obscuring his expression but his jaw and mouth relaxed, his gloves and forceps stained red as he tugged away at this test subject’s- this person’s life with nothing more than a controlled flick of his wrist, you couldn’t even bring yourself to be adequately horrified. Which you suppose, in the very act of being accustomed to such gruesome displays, made you a monster too. To your dismay, the man wouldn’t even die. He gasped and wheezed and clawed at the table he was strapped to, and after counting to ten (no more than ten second’s suffering, Tighnari had taught you) you leaned across the table and cleanly snapped the man’s neck.

The Doctor’s pace never faltered until the red cord broke, a pile of it laying in a glass dish by his side and the other end indistinguishable in the red of the man’s wound. You stared at the body on the table, the broken neck. Yet another death on your hands. You were the one to break the silence this time.

“I suppose this is some form of a test, doctor.”

“You’re quite right,” he confirmed smoothly, turning away from the body on the table and discarding his gloves. You sighed, tightening your gloves and glancing at your watch. The whole thing had taken barely ten minutes. Ten minutes to wrench the blood vessels from a human body. Usually it took longer. Bile rose in your throat at the way your mind so readily supplied the information.

“Did I pass?”

He grinned at you over his shoulder as he washed the blood from his hands, staining the water.

“With flying colours.”

“Joy,” you deadpanned, tugging at the collar of your cloak. The presence of a fresh body cloyed the air, pressing at your airways. You could never get properly used to this part, the blaring absence of life where there previously had been one. The Doctor walked back over to the vivisection table, pulling his leather gloves on along the way. Well, technically it’s an autopsy table now.

“This pathetic excuse for a man was a traitor to the Tsaritsa,” he began, staring down at the body. For once, you were grateful the mask hid his eyes; what if you’d seen glee, contentment in them? “Let it be known that this is the fate awaiting all who follow the same path.”

“Duly noted, doctor.”

“I do hope so.” He turned his faceless gaze onto you. “I’d hate for my student to end up nothing more than a test subject.” And strangely enough, he would dislike the experience of having to perform such a procedure on you. The thought perplexed him; why would he care? Bizarre.

“I doubt you’d feel anything at all,” you countered, handing him the wooden case filled with your paperwork. You wished you’d been late, now. You wished you hadn’t been crowned valedictorian and piqued the Fatui’s interest. Perhaps then you could’ve left these malpractices behind as a chapter from your past. “Do enlighten me as to the purpose of this particular experiment, doctor. Other than observing my reactions to it.”

He ignored you in favour of reading your notes. Bastard, joke’s on you. You’re listening to me either way, whether directly or indirectly.

“Perhaps I should start calling you by a different title,” you remarked, more to yourself than him. “’Doctor’ isn’t very fitting after this display in human compassion.”

To your surprise, he answered, though without looking up from the papers you’d handed him.

“No. You will continue to address me in your usual manner.”

“As the doctor wishes,” you replied, making sure to inject a healthy dose of sarcasm into your voice as you took out the solutions you’d be using that day. As Nilou would've said, the show must go on.

A servant arrived some time later to wheel the body away, calm and unfazed. Clearly this was a routine occurrence, and you ruminated over the likelihood of being tied to the vivisection table yourself as you worked. By the time the thin, watery rays of light burned orange with the sunset and pierced through the relentless snowfall, you’d decided that it wasn’t a particularly pressing concern. If the Doctor had, for whatever reason, wanted to experiment on you specifically then the Fatui wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of recruiting you. They would’ve discreetly whisked you away instead. Hardly the most reassuring of conclusions to arrive at; regardless, as you measured out samples of the newly made elemental stabilisers you concluded that it could definitely be worse. After all, you had access to a marvellous lab and infinite time to pursue your research. And the Doctor was inarguably a genius, despite… Well, everything. You didn’t exchange any more pleasantries for the remainder of the day. Concocting the elemental stabilisers was a delicate process with disastrous consequences if your hand so much as slipped, and talking to the Doctor was mentally taxing enough without the threat of a possible electro explosion looming over your head. He read through every one of the papers you’d given him, and every now and then you hazarded a glance in his direction to try and determine his thoughts. A fruitless endeavour, as his expression (or at least what you could see of it) remained completely impassive as he sorted through the stack of notes. Still, having an academic higher-up evaluate your research was as nerve-racking as it had been in your first year, and you resented him for doing it in front of you. That was probably on purpose, too.

Once the stabilisers had been painstakingly measured out and stored away, you squinted at your watch to check the time through the remaining vapour after making the pyro-hydro stabiliser. The pearly face revealed that you’d been in the lab for four bloody hours, and your stomach pointedly seconded the fact by growling loudly enough that surely even the Knights of Favonius heard it. You noted the time you’d spent and the solutions you’d made into what you were coming to think of as your Fatui notebook, and after wiping your glasses clean of the spatters you made your way to the door.

“Take your documents with you if you’ve already finished.”

‘Already?’ Did four hours and twenty minutes of work not constitute anything? Damn him.

You pivoted on your heel and turned back to take your things from the Doctor’s desk.

“Anything else, Doctor?” you asked, rearranging the paperwork back into the order you’d had it in.

He settled on a response that he knew would get on your nerves, so that he could derive the thrill of watching you reign in your anger. “Fetch me a pot of tea,” he replied idly, his focus on the last piece of your paperwork.

“With respect, doctor, I am not a maid,” you said pointedly. Irritating as it was, you had to hover on the other side of his desk and wait for him to finish reading. Why would he tell me to take my things if he hadn’t even read them all yet? You were beginning to suspect that every one of his actions was specifically tailored to invoke annoyance, though how he so effectively pushed your buttons was beyond you.

He looked up from your report on the effects of prolonged elemental exposure on ancient mechanisms. It was one of your best, and if he attempted to criticise it you had at least sixty different explanations on why your method was the most effective. Defensive much? Alhaitham’s voice mocked.

“Are you refusing to accommodate your superior’s requests?” He replied, a contented smile spreading across his face. You took a deep breath and rationalised that punching said face wasn’t a suitable course of action, no matter how alluring it was. He didn’t even have the grace to hide the fact that he enjoyed prodding at your composure. Didn’t he already have tea anyway?

“Not at all. I'm merely bringing the inconsistencies of your requests to light,” you explained as civilly as possible. “The assistance required of me pertains to academic matters, and you don’t see how this includes fetching tea.”

“Then join me for tea instead.”

Your eyebrows must have reached your hairline. “I beg your pardon?” Every expression suited you, it seemed; each new reaction was something truly worthy of documentation.

“You heard me.” The Doctor’s vexing smile hadn’t slipped an inch. He leaned forward across the desk. “Take a seat. Or do you intend to display further insubordination?”

You tamped down the urge to snap and lowered yourself into the chair across from him. The report he’d been reading lay forgotten on his desk, and your eyes paused on the sheet of paper beside it. The writing on it wasn’t yours, and you realised with a touch of trepidation that he’d been jotting notes about your work, and although every one of your published reports had been approved after prolonged evaluation by the Akademiya you still had to swallow the lump of apprehension in your throat. He really did embody the air of a professor ridiculously well, with his ceaseless arrogance and lofty attitude, and it brought back too many memories of being a nervous rookie for your liking. A servant brought in a tray laden with a teapot, two cups and a plate of cake. Just when did he call for that? The Doctor poured out the tea, still smiling and being much too cordial not to rouse suspicion; as such, when he offered you a cup your first thought was poison. You stared at the tea then back up at him, frowning slightly.

“What’s the real purpose of this little exercise, doctor?”

He had the sheer nerve to chuckle and lean back in his chair, relaxed and unhurried, as if you were so terribly silly for having your guard up.

“Do you need a reason to have tea with my student?”

You levelled him with a long, pointed look; the kind you used to give to the younger students you’d tutored every now and then. It wasn’t quite as effective on him, but he did drop the mocking smile with a sigh.

“Drink the tea,” he said bluntly, leaning forward with his elbows on the desk as if to analyse you more closely. “That’s an order.”

You snorted. “Well, doctor, you’ve just given me a marvellous incentive to not drink this tea at any cost.”

A muscle twitched in his cheek, but his lips remained in a straight, neutral line. You wondered what expression his mask concealed. (Annoyance would be the answer. He’d expected you to fall headfirst into his little trap; perhaps he’d underestimated you.)

“I am not patient enough to allow for your defiance. Drink the tea.”

You pursed your lips to hold back a grin. The Doctor had given you the upper hand by issuing an order you could refuse, and even though he probably did it willingly it still gave you no small satisfaction. Besides, your curiosity was piqued. What could possibly be in this tea that he so desperately wanted you to drink?

“Perhaps I’ll be more willing to acquiesce to your demand if you tell me precisely what’s in it.”

He released a long-suffering sigh, dropping the friendly act altogether, and leaned back in his chair. He tugged thoughtfully at his leather gloves, and it struck you as humorous that you shared such a similar tick.

“A truth serum.”

You raised your eyebrows. “And is that all?”

“I doubt you’d believe me even if I said yes.”

You laughed despite yourself. What a pleasant noise. Winning an interaction with the immovable Doctor so early into your studies was quite amusing, not to mention a massive ego boost.

“You’re quite right,” you conceded, relaxing in your seat and surveying him thoughtfully. “I'm grateful that you didn’t take a different route and simply inject it directly into my bloodstream when the chance presented itself.”

“You should be,” he replied, brusque and perhaps even irritated. Clearly he didn’t share your amusement. “It’s a mistake I won’t repeat.”

“The Fatui are so terribly fond of their blatant threats,” you mused, pulling your watch out of its inner pocket to check the time. “Wouldn’t it be more productive to ask your questions and see what I try to lie about? I'm sure you’re adept enough at reading body language to identify the truth.” At this point you were just gloating, trying to string him along. A fatal flaw you readily acknowledged in your personality; you savoured victories with a little too much enjoyment.

The muscle in his cheek twitched again, and you couldn’t help but feel quite pleased with yourself for getting on his nerves to the point where you could identify the tell-tale signs. The logical side of your brain thankfully decided to return to the situation at hand rather than calculating how long it would take for you to make significant progress in your research (two weeks maximum, if you were clever about your time), and you regained enough clarity to recognise that what you was doing was incredibly stupid. Riling up a Harbinger; Archons, where did your self-preservation go when your pride took the wheel?

You shoved the smug grin off your face and fastidiously schooled your features back to neutrality, slipping behind a façade of polite detachment. The Doctor, by contrast, smiled and tilted his head to the side as you forcibly removed the emotion from your face.

“Fascinating,” you heard him whisper, and for the sake of your own sanity you pretended you hadn’t. He fixed you with a stare that you could acutely feel even through his mask, and you stared right back. Two mad scientists.

You brushed the thought away; even if you did go insane you doubted you’d ever reach the Doctor’s level.

“You may leave. I expect you to be here at seven o’clock every morning.”

“Understood, doctor.”

He gestured at the door with an elegant wave of his hand, picking up the report he still hadn’t returned. You shot one last fleeting look at his writing on the separate sheet of paper before leaving the laboratory.

And bumping straight into Childe.

It took a few muffled curses and a thank you to every higher power you could think of that your glasses remained intact for you to regain your bearings, and the first thing you did once the corridor stopped spinning was shoot Childe a glare, though it was somewhat half-hearted.

“You’re incredibly lucky that my glasses didn’t break.”

He just laughed and even had the sheer nerve to ruffle your hair. You were so shocked by the gesture that for a moment you didn’t move to stop him, but once your brain had caught up with the situation you batted his hands away.

“And what would you have done if I did break your glasses, Trixy?” He challenged, following you down the spiral staircase with that ever-present grin. “Defeated me in a duel?”

Archons alive, he’s teasing me.

“No, no,” you replied sweetly. “I’d just slip some very potent toxin into your food.” Two can play at that game.

That elicited another delighted laugh.

“Stick to the battleground you’re familiar with, eh?”

“Naturally.”

You turned to enter the hallway where your room was, but he grabbed your cloak and tugged you in the opposite direction despite your protests.

“Oh, what are you doing-“

“You missed lunch,” he cut you off, practically dragging you out into the courtyard. It looked much more welcoming than it had when you’d arrived, with the hazy glow from the sunset glinting off the snow and the nearby sound of a chirping bird carrying through the chill air. You even glimpsed tiny blue flowers peeking through the layer of white. You relented, letting him pull you along without resisting.

“Oh, yes,” you agreed absent-mindedly, watching a fox with fur white as the snow disappeared into a burrow at the base of a pine tree. Someone within the palace probably fed it regularly, considering how it made no effort to hide itself.

“Is Dottore already overworking you?” He asked with a touch of humour, linking his arm in yours as he led you through the cobbled pathways. For some reason, you allowed it.

“He tried to poison me,” you offered, lengthening your stride to keep pace with him.

“That does sound like him,” he agreed with a snort as he dragged you into a pavilion adorned with glittering golden lights, which were naturally of the floating, magical variety because Archons forbid the Fatui do anything without being ridiculously extra. Still, watching the gusts of snowflakes through a golden frame wasn’t such a terrible experience, even if it didn’t offer any shelter from the biting cold and you had to properly fasten your cloak to keep it out. Childe evidently didn’t see the point in such frivolities, considering he wore nothing but that grey suit and the amused way he watched you adjust your gloves.

“You won’t miss lunch tomorrow, will you?”

You idly wondered why he was so fixated on that.

“Do the recruits and Harbingers even dine in the same place?”

“Don’t dodge the question,” he said mock-sternly. You chuckled.

“In the very act of issuing that instruction you also dodged my question.”

He dismissed the technicality with a flippant wave of his arm, leaning against the railing of the pavilion.

“Quit shoving your intellect in my face with those fancy words,” he said, his grin taking on a playful tilt.

“Only if you stop calling me by that childish nickname.”

He guffawed. “’Childish.’ Good one.”

You groaned, raking a hand down your face at the dreadful joke. Truly Cyno levels of unfunny, though you suppose you did set yourself up for it. He nudged you in the ribs with his elbow before you could swat him away.

“You scholars are so uptight,” he teased. “If you can learn all that complicated science jargon then you can also learn to take a joke.”

“I can take a joke perfectly fine. I'm tolerating your presence right now, aren’t I?”

He let out a sigh, throwing an arm around your shoulders and ruffling your hair with his fist. You immediately tried to shove him away with an indignant yelp, but you might as well have been a harmless ladybird as far as he was concerned. “You have no respect for my position as a Harbinger, Trixy,” he told you in a jokingly strict tone of voice.

“You’ve done nothing to earn it,” you countered, wriggling out of his grip and running a hand through your hair in an attempt to rectify the havoc he’d no doubt wreaked.

“Will I earn it if I defeat you in combat?”

“Why, of course,” you replied with as much sarcasm as you could muster. You’d been reliably informed of its sheer magnitude. “Considering my untouchable physical prowess and how magnanimous a defeat it would be if you somehow succeeded.”

He laughed good-naturedly. “I’ll have to challenge you to a duel, then. Can’t have my ego taking such a beating, can I?”

“Oh, Archons forbid. Anything but your ego.”

The snow picked up, and you rushed back to the palace before it could pose a difficulty to finding your way back. Looks like a blizzard. Childe pushed the enormous front door shut and a few snowflakes fluttered inside only to melt the moment they touched the floor.

“Dinner should be ready in half an hour,” he told you as you approached the door to your room. Your stomach eagerly took this as a cue to growl.

“Three meals a day? We’re truly living in the lap of luxury.”

“So I’ll see you then?” Completely immune to sarcasm, as you were coming to learn.

“Alright.” you resolved to ask Anya to show you where the dining hall was so you could finish a quick lab report before eating.

He turned a corner and left the hallway, whistling cheerfully as he went.

The dining hall, as you came to learn in the coming days, was incredibly far away from your room. No hastily-sketched map would suffice to navigate the maze of corridors and ridiculous number of stairs, and you realised early on you’d most likely have to bring food back with you so you wouldn’t be obligated to make such a long trip every day. You were pondering the intricacies of what food would keep better and what options might be available when Anya gestured towards the dining room and then left. Embarrassing as it was, you still couldn’t find your way through the palace without guidance. The dining hall was massive and utterly packed with people as always. And unnecessarily lavish, but this particular aspect you were growing accustomed to the longer you stayed in the palace, though you still thought the crystal chandelier was a bit too much.

There weren’t many tables close to the windows because you was a little late to dinner that day, but you were nothing if not determined to maintain your own contentment, so you approached a table that was empty save for a young woman in purple robes and a swarm of strange creatures fluttering around her.

“Is anyone sitting here?”

She didn’t even spare you a glance.

“No.”

Ah, a fellow non-conversationalist. You sat down and began eating, surveying the dining room’s occupants and the whirling blizzard outside. You toyed absent-mindedly with the idea of striking up a conversation with the woman; after all, in a place like Snezhnaya where allies were few and far between especially for an outsider, even a casual acquaintance in the workplace would be beneficial. But it would also open more chances for backstabbing, figurative or literal. Best leave her be. You noticed with an uncomfortable prickle that every last person in the room wore a mask, though they varied in style and intricacy; the recruits with their bronze talismans had simple grey and black leather covering their eyes while the few odd silver talisman or Vision holders donned beautiful, decorative pieces. Though not as elegant as Signora or the Doctor’s, you noted as you ate. You wonder why you weren't given one.

As if she’d read your mind, the woman across from you spoke.

“Where’s your mask?”

It sounded almost like a demand, as though she believed herself entitled to the information, though a glance at the charms hanging from her waist revealed she held a bronze talisman just like yours; your ranking was more or less equal. It struck you as odd that a mere recruit would assert such authority in conversation, and you pondered the buzzing purple-winged creatures around her as an excuse to think before replying.

“I didn’t receive one.”

The buzzing picked up as the creatures flitted back and forth through the pointed ears on the hood of her cape. She abandoned her food in favour of staring at you through the slits in her mask.

“What do you mean you didn’t receive one?”

“I mean exactly what I said. I arrived here less than a month ago and wasn’t given a mask.”

“Ridiculous,” she muttered under her breath. You refrained from rolling your eyes.

“Which Lord or Lady do you serve?”

“Why the interrogative tone?” you asked pleasantly, or as pleasantly as you could in your irritated state of mind.

“Answer the question.” Her plate forgotten, she was leaning forward across the table with her eyes trained on you, and you once more marvelled at her brazen attitude.

“Am I obligated to answer?” You asked after a moment’s thought.

“Yes-“ she cut herself off, clearing her throat and relaxing back in her chair. “No. I guess not.”

You raised your eyebrows and took a bite of food. The Snezhnayans really were fond of their fish.

“You’re not really a recruit, are you?”

“What exactly are you suggesting?”

Her snappish manner was more than enough of an answer.

“I’d wager a guess that you’re a higher-up undercover,” you replied, twirling your spoon contemplatively. “Your behaviour is far too authoritative for someone who’s supposedly at the bottom of the metaphorical food chain.”

The buzzing purple creatures vanished into thin air. That surprised you; the annoyance they’d invoked had been enough to convince you they were real. The woman’s gaze was palpable, and you made a valiant attempt to pretend you didn’t notice it.

“You’re right,” she said abruptly. You hummed in acknowledgement, refraining from asking her about her real identity. “But who are you?”

“Me?” you offered her a quick smile. “I'm a recruit, well and truly. Not a disguise to be found.”

“Yes, yes,” she conceded impatiently, rapping her knuckles on the table. “But you didn’t tell me what Harbinger you serve. Or your name.”

You swallowed the lump of apprehension in your throat; the alias you’d chosen to keep your real name secret still felt unfamiliar and blatantly dishonest on your tongue.

“I'm apprenticing under Lord Two,” you said, avoiding her second question entirely. “Where did the horrible buzzing things go?”

“They were illusions,” she replied dismissively, confirming your suspicions. “How did you obtain such a position?”

You fiddled with the clasp of your cloak. “Is it a particularly difficult endeavour?”

“Dottore has never taken on any subordinates.”

That caught you off guard, and you nearly overlooked the fact that she addressed him the same way Childe did. Could she possibly be a Harbinger too? But why would a Harbinger go undercover at their own base of operations?

“Really?”

“Yes. I'm still doubtful over whether or not you’re telling the truth.”

“And I'm curious as to why you care.”

She chuckled under her breath.

“Fair enough. Trade?” She suggested, tapping her fingers on the edge of the table. The soft tap noise stuck out more than the hubbub of the room, and you wondered if it was a trick similar to that of the illusionary purple things intended to keep your attention on the conversation.

“Alright. One question in exchange for another?”

“Deal.”

Meeting a kindred spirit was truly an unrivalled joy.

“How exactly did you manage to gain an apprenticeship with the Doctor?”

You hesitated. Sharing the details of your offer didn’t seem to be a very clever idea until you remembered the Doctor telling you that verbal agreements were legally binding in Snezhnaya. How bothersome.

“I was sent a letter from the Director offering me the position a week after graduating from the Akademiya.”

The woman made a contemplative noise and drummed a pattern on the table with her fingertips.

“What’s so special about you that the Director saw it fit to offer you a never before available position?” She asked bluntly. Well damn, girl. Hit right where it hurts.

You grinned. “One question was our agreement, yes?” Her face contorted into a scowl, and you had to admit her anger was indeed fearsome.

“My turn. Who are you?”

“I'm not going to tell you that.”

Huh? You cursed yourself for so readily believing she’d uphold her end of the agreement. Clearly you’d spent too much time in Liyue, where contracts were irrefutable law, and this morally questionable and easily twisted system still came as a shock.

“That’s… not fair in the slightest,” you remarked, pushing away your empty plate. “But at the very least it confirms you’re in a high enough position to disregard the rules without a second thought.”

A pleased smile graced her face, and you suddenly and very belatedly realised that she was beautiful in a sharp, morbid sort of way; like the edge of a well-polished knife or a brand new musket.

“Fairness doesn’t concern me. This isn’t Fontaine, after all.”

“Have you ever visited?” you asked, more out of polite curiosity than anything else. If she wouldn’t outright tell you her identity, then perhaps you could glean a clue from the exchange of pleasantries.

“Yes,” she replied shortly. Clearly she didn’t share your sentiment, though it was rather understandable; if she really was as high-ranking as you suspected then she could gather as much information about you as she wished without having to resort to seemingly empty conversation.

“Do you refuse to give me so much as a hint about your identity?” You pressed, resting your chin in your hand and watching her pensively.

“Yes. I refuse.”

With a disappointed sigh, you stacked your cutlery onto your empty plate and left them on the table like you’d seen the other recruits doing.

“Quite cruel of you to pique a scholar’s curiosity and leave it unfulfilled like that.”

A flash of her teeth in another smile.

“What can I say? I'm a cruel woman.”

“So I'm coming to realise.”

You left the table with a nod in her direction, puzzling away at the interaction and wondering who exactly she could be.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚** ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚** ੈ✩‧₊˚*

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heartfullofleeches · 2 years

Note

Would love to see the spouse hire an assassin to kill the jester, only for the assassin to fall madly in love with the jester too.

(Things always always end with reader having a harem someday. Tw, injury - but not to you)

With you as the crown emperor's jester, and the object of his affection, taking your head would cost a pretty penny, and someone who was right for the job. Fortunately for his spouse, they had someone who could do it for less, and be almost as good.

A family "acquaintance" who had been a petty thief in their youth and would do anything for money. Since they weren't completely heartless, the spouse still offered a decent reward as long as you were dead.

With half of it already in their pocket, the assassin followed you about, looking for the perfect moment to strike. They could see why the emperor's spouse was worried. The man was downright obsessed with you! He had you in meetings, the throne room, and you bedrooms were even beside each other. They feared they'd just have to bite the bullet and attack at night, the proper time coming with patience.

You were along in the throne room, practicing your juggling with the king away. His spouse had dragged him to meet with their family and would not let you come, and you wanted to throw a celebration for when he returned. Though you were pretty decent at the skill already, but for some reason you couldn't juggle more than three objects at a time. At true jester could juggle five at minimum in your mind. Giving it your all, you trained each day - even if frustration was sneaking up on you.

The assassin watches from a pillar. With their king gone and the night on the horizon all the servants were reading for bed, the perfect time to strike. As they began to sneak from their hiding place, you drop your training balls to the ground for you millionth time, the object scattering across the floor.

"Darn." You look at the one you had managed to catch, it being the same once each time by some cruel joke from the gods. A yellow ball you painted with a smiling face; its grin now mocking you.

Your grip tightens around it, obvious to the steps behind you. Knife at your back, you dump all of your anger into your arm, turning on your heels to throw it against the adjacent wall. It slams into the skull of your would-be attacker, colliding with the force rivaled only to a catapult and knocking them off their feet much to your horror. They're out like a light from the blow, the ball the size of your palm and roughly their face. The last thing they hear in their final moments of consciousness is:

"Oh heavens, I'm so sorry!"

The assassin wakes in the medical ward the next morning with a splitting headache. Their right eye was swollen and their nose sore to the touch; lips bruised. They ignored the pain; having dealt with far worse in the past. They look around for their bag or a weapon, only finding a small doll at the end of their feet.

It was of them, albeit a bit rushed. Their hood was pulled a bit too far over their eyes and their cloak missing its second button. You hadn't gotten better since you made the emperor his pierott doll. With as little time as you had, it was still a good try, and thanks to their clothes being so plain they were a breeze.

"Good morning, loyal subject."

They look towards where you stood, holding your mock scepter in hand.

"With the king absent and I as his royal fool, I welcome you to the castle where you may stay until you are better."

You remove your hat and take a bow, twisting the scepter in your hands as you laugh nervously.

"So, um, sorry about knocking you out... I made you a friend as an apology... and you can even sleep in my room. My bed is far more comfortable than any of the guest rooms."

The assassin stares at you blankly. That was an entire trip and a half. The room was empty, giving them the right moment to take you out, but oddily they hesitated. From both your performance... and the smell of food on the table beside them.

"Are.. are you hungry? Eat as much as you'd like!"

After they eat the food you brought, you walk them to your room. You ask them questions, but they answer not a single one. The silent type, you guessed. You were far from the monster the emperor's spouse had said you were. Of course, they didn’t care much about the mortal aliment of their kills, but you were like nobody they'd met before. Trusting... Kind... Almost appealing... And a complete fool.

You open the door for them, standing back so they could walk inside. The tools you used to make their doll rested on your nightstand, the place where you put it since they had left it behind.

"Let me know if you need anything, bye!"

You make your exit. The assassin still doesn't know what happened, or why they hadn't butchered you with the nearest sharp object. They crash into your bed, the pain in their face suddenly tenfold, but another feeling fomenting in the recesses of their abdomen. One they haven't felt in eons. They look at the doll, picking it up and placing it over their beating chest.

They didn't really have to kill you right now. The emperor's spouse informed them they'd be gone for the whole week afterall. There also isn't anything saying that they couldn't just take you away to some place where you couldn't interfere. Like their own home.

Glancing at the nightstand again, the see the beginnings of another doll; one who's crown laid unfinished in its lap. They wondered what the emperor did to make you stay, and if they could do similar to make you do the same with them. A smile is always needed. Even in those with the blackest of hearts.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere oc #male yandere #yandere insert #yandere story #Yandere assassin #yandere emperor #soft yandere #Tw injury

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gusherguy · 7 months

Note

for your consideration: two people getting really sick at the same time from eating far too much of the same bad food. one person has a weaker stomach and starts really feeling the effects first, but their vomiting very quickly sets the other off and once they start there's no stopping them

(Hayden he/him, Cade he/him)

They hadn't planned on seeing Cade's parents that night. Hayden and Cade went for Chinese food at a buffet that afternoon, and soon after got a call. "My parents are in town!" Cade leaned into Hayden's room. "Want to go meet them? They're gonna be at the steakhouse. You should come with!"

"Are you sure you want to come with, Hayden? You don't look so good." Cade said when they got out of the car. "And you can meet my parents later. I don't want you to overdo it." Cade said sympathetically as he absently rubbed his swollen gut. "I—I'll be fine. I just, uh…" He takes a deep breath and tries to relax, but the tension is too much to bear. "I ate too much. Had way too many noodles."

Despite the overstimulation of having already been in a restaurant, and his disinterest in steak after stuffing on noodles and fried rice, Hayden felt excited that Cade wanted to take this next step, and hoped the parents would like him. He didn't want to waste this chance, no matter how sick he felt.

Once they got there, he realized it was a mistake. Hayden's temples throbbed, the inside of his mouth tasting vaguely of raw onions. The restaurant's bright, white lights were a source of torture rather than comfort, their brightness highlighting his clammy forehead. The sounds of the bustle around him were loud enough to cause headaches, which seems like a cruel twist of fate considering that he's suffering the early pangs of a salt-induced migraine. A sharp pain lanced through his torso, and Hayden swallows hard. He carefully loosened his belt under the table. His stomach roils, and he's sure a violent attack of indigestion is only moments from kicking in.

"You good?" Cade asked him suddenly. Hayden almost jumped. "Um - yeah. I'm good, just…I think I ate too much." Cade gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Yeah, I know what you mean. I've got really bad bubble guts right now. I really hope nothing at that buffet was spoiled." He sipped on his Sprite and then brightened up, nodding his head at a middle-aged couple that had just entered. "There, that's them. That's my mom and dad." With that Cade stood up to go and greet them, leaving Hayden all by himself at the table.

As Cade went to greet his parents, Hayden gripped the table and forced his eyes shut. The lights and commotion aren't doing him any favors. He almost felt seasick. He took a deep breath, then released it slowly, but he's barely finished exhaling before he feels a familiar rumble begin low in his abdomen. Gas and the remains of a meal are threatening to be regurgitated. He swallowed hard.

For a little while, Hayden kept control of his stomach. He sipped his iced soda, hoping the bubbles would settle his stomach. And for a bit it seemed to help. He introduced himself to Cade's parents and they began small talk. Then Cade's dad ordered appetizers. "Make that double, would you please? Looks like I'm feeding a crowd today." his father said good-naturedly. And before either Cade or Hayden could protest, the waiter left. And Cade's parents began making small talk.

Hayden's brow was really beginning to glisten with sweat. Every time he turned to face someone new in this little circle, the lights flashed and his stomach rumbled heavily, slow and sluggish and sickening. He can't imagine eating anything; the idea of chewing or swallowing makes him dizzy.

Cade was also having to gulp over and over to keep his stomach in its place. When the appetizers arrived and his parents dug in, he snacked a bit on the wings and dip that had been left on the table, nibbling out of habit. The strong, greasy smell and spicy taste made his guts churn. And when he looked to Hayden, he realized with horror that he didn't look much better off. Maybe something at the buffet really was spoiled.

Hayden can't imagine holding back any longer. His head jerks from side to side, heaving breathlessly, and he suddenly feels bile rising in his mouth. He grips the edge of the table, a hand ready for his forehead as his guts churn and gurgle. His swallows mean nothing against the force of his sick stomach, and he felt chunks at the back of his throat.

"You know, mom and dad, Hayden's pretty tired. I think we might - urrp!" a sudden burp interrupted Cade. He blushed a little, but mostly his cheeks were green. "'scuse me. I think we might head out early."

Hayden's mouth twisted in misery. "P—please… have to… go…" he whined out, desperate. What seems like a long moment of agonizing silence passed as Hayden tried to keep his stomach down, but he was fighting a losing battle. Sweat trickled down his neck, his breath coming harsh in his throat. He leaned over the table, gagging, and that's all it took. The food from earlier erupted, exploding past Hayden's lips and splattering everything around him. He sagged forward and moans miserably. "Ohhh… I—I'm so sorry…"

When Hayden vomited, it was like a button was pressed on Cade's gag reflex. He didn't even feel himself heaving before a sudden heavy wave of chunky noodle barf spewed from his lips and splattered all over the appetizer. He hiccupped and moaned, mortified. "Ohhh m-my god, I'm so s- sghhhuruuughhhl!!" his belly clenched and Cade threw up again. The hot slurry burned all the way up and splashed on his jeans.

"Oh no… you too…" Hayden choked back bile, looking at Cade in horror. He wiped his mouth with a napkin, passing one to Cade. But the second he tried to speak, he heaved again. An ungodly amount of partially-digested ramen noodles burst out of his mouth, staining his shirt and the tablecloth. He curled into himself, panting with exhaustion and fighting to keep the remnants of his meal down. His stomach continued to roil, but it seems he's emptied as much as he's able.

Cade's parents at least didn't react in disgust. They seemed worried, and jumped into action. They pushed the almost-empty bowl of dip under Hayden's mouth as his tongue shot out and he began again to vomit. Cade leaned forward and desperately covered his mouth with his hands. But it was to no avail, and barf dripped from his fingers. A forceful gush escaped then. He groaned and gave in to the sickness clutching his belly.

Hayden retches violently, trying to expel the spoiled food that remained. It's as if his stomach were a bottomless pit, full of the slimiest rank slurry imaginable. He just wants it to be over. He dry-heaves, nothing coming up, but his stomach won't let him find comfort in the calm. It spasms and he can feel fresh bile rising up his throat. He leaned over the table and heaved, quickly getting dizzy.

Cade regretted overeating at the buffet. He burped up a violent surge of orange and noodles that splashed, mostly getting into the bowl. He clutched his belly with a low moan before spewing again. He was grateful they had chosen a table in the back; nobody but them noticed the mess yet. Hayden had the worst of it. He had eaten more of that slightly-suspicious shrimp stir fry than Cade had. Every exhale was a violent gush of vomit, and his face was sweaty and red. Cade's father gingerly patted his back.

Hayden, for his part, was beginning to feel lightheaded. His tummy went quiet for now, but that seemed to be the calm before the storm. He groaned miserably and clutched his sides, every twitch in his guts generating an involuntary grimace. He felt more exhausted than he could remember, and every movement is like pulling teeth. His tongue tasted foul and every breath he takes seems to make things worse. Cade's mother lays a hand on his shoulder and mouths, "You'll be alright."

It took a long while before they were alright, however. After a few minutes both boys could control their nausea long enough to make it to the bathroom, but once they got there the heaving just started again. Their stomachs felt agonizingly gross, heavy and overfull and sick. The sound of their retching reverberated through the small bathroom. After a moment, Cade called over in a raspy voice "H-Hayden….you okay?"

Hayden didn't answer, too busy with the business of being sick to reply. He hunched over the toilet in the fetal position, gagging and retching violently while it felt like his insides writhed and squirmed. Cade's voice barely registered to him. But eventually, he forces back the bile, breathing through his mouth and gasping for air as he got his breath. Eventually, he croaked "Yeah… yeah. Just… gimme a minute."

Just then Cade let out a meaty belch that turned into vomit on the tail end. He leaned over the toilet and let it out. Another retch took hold, and he splattered the bowl with brown and orange chunks. "Ohhhgg….god, thats bad."

Hayden shuddered, his stomach roiling again. "Ugh, god…" He puts his hand on his head and, with the slightest movement, let out another gush of bile. He leaned over again, his eyes watering as he continues to expel what little food he consumed at the buffet. His head pounded and he felt chills. After a moment, he sighed and pressed his cheek against the wall. "This is awful… I feel so gross."

"S-same….god, that really must have been spoiled food." Cade spat into the toilet and sighed. "I haven't felt this bad in a long time." he tenderly rubbed his bloated stomach, feeling it all moving around inside. Every little twist and turn of his guts brings him a fresh jolt of nausea. Now that the initial vomiting has slowed, he's left with a dull, pounding headache. He flushed and leaned against the wall, trying to rest. His guts kept spasming a little bit every so often, but he wasn't vomiting anymore.

Hayden groaned lightly and clutches his throbbing head. The nausea has calmed down for the most part, but he can feel the food sloshing around inside him. And the chillls kept getting worse. He grimaced and looked at the stall his boyfriend was in, suddenly feeling worried. "Cade… do you feel feverish at all? I—I'm feeling a little hot, but… maybe I'm just imagining things."

"Lemme check." Cade didn't feel too feverish, just nauseous. He reached his hand under the stall to Hayden. "I don't. Do -- urrrp! - do you? Let me feel your arm." When he felt Hayden, his boyfriend's skin was very hot and slightly red. "Ohh boy. Yeah, I think you might have a fever, babe."

Hayden nodded, his eyes widening with concern. "You don't feel too hot, right? I don't know how I'd handle it if we were both sick." He rests his hands on Cade's arm. It felt cool compared to his. His stomach began to churn again, but he fought down the rising nausea. "God, I still feel gross. I—my head… still hurts."

"I sh-should ask my dad to bring us water." Cade said, swallowing hard. His stomach was very upset again and he was worried he would soon vomit. But it happened sooner than he expected, and he spewed slushy orange and white down the front of his jacket. "Ohhhgg…oh shit, god. Damn i-- urrghhkkk!" he leaned over the toilet before he vomited again. "It hur-hrhrrggglllhg! It hurts…." Cade moaned between retches.

Hayden looked away when Cade began to vomit and made a grumbling sound of distaste. When he heard Cade's stomach rumbling again, he knows what's coming. He covered his mouth and turns his head, listening to the revolting squelching and splattering in Cade's throat. He tried not to be repulsed, but it was hard when the sounds were so loud. It's a relief when Cade finally let the last of his dinner go, though the smell made Hayden feel like he might puke again himself. "Ohh my god…" he said hollowly.

Hayden's belly lurched violently and he gasped. With a sudden rush, he expeled the rest of his dinner, most of it splashing down into the bowl but some bits and bile reaching the floor. He groaned and gripped the toilet to keep from wobbling, letting the contents churn and splurt out for a few seconds before he's finally spent. He was left dry-heaving into the bowl for a long moment. "Hnngg…. mmphhh… gahh…"

Cade spat, his stomach feeling much better now that it was empty. He flushed again and knocked on Hayden's door. "How're you doing in there?" he asked gently. In the end, Hayden needed help getting home. He was ill over the whole weekend, and terribly embarrassed about vomiting in front of the people who could become his in-laws. But Cade's parents were very understanding, and even sent them a card hoping Hayden felt better soon.

#emeto #emetophilia #emeto scenario #emeto ask #puke #emeto fic #gay

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soulreapin · 2 months

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#16: a kiss in the rain ! with kl ofc :)

prompt game: asks open!

16: a kiss in the rain.

—

“Fuck you, Lance!”

Keith shoves his feet into the shoes closest to him (Lance’s Nike Dunks, but he doesn’t dwell on that,) grabs his keys, and slams their apartment door behind him.

His anger follows him down three flights of stairs and out into the pouring rain. Keith sits down on the sidewalk in front of their apartment building, knees pulled up to his chest.

This is the third time they’d fought this week. Not the playful bantering they’d kept up during highschool, but genuine, tears-in-eyes, white knuckle fighting.

And for the life of him, Keith can’t figure out why. Okay, he can figure it out a little bit. Their bills were due this week, and he found out they hadn’t been paid when the water shut off in the middle of his shower. No big deal, but Keith toddled out into the living room in just a towel and asked about it, only to be snapped at.

So that one is his fault.

The other two…he’s just missing a crucial piece. Just one, like it’s fallen between the couch cushions or something. Lance had been on edge, sleeping less and eating rarely, sitting at their kitchen table every night until Keith went to bed.

Keith sits out in the rain until his hair is soaked and plastered to the back of his neck and he can’t tell between raindrops and hot tears with how hard its pouring. His hands prune up and his t-shirt sticks to his ribs.

“I knew you wouldn’t go far.” Someone says behind Keith.

He looks up and sees Lance standing there, holding a clear umbrella. Keith blinks a few times at him and turns his head away, tucking his chin into his arms.

Lance sits down on the curb next to Keith, sheltering them both from the pouring rain.

“I’m sorry,” Lance starts, looking down at some rivulet in the street. “I have been…really, really mean to you.”

“Understatement of the year.” Keith says with a small, wet laugh. “Tell me why. Please.”

He hates the way his voice wavers when he says that. Lance inhales, “My abuela died last week.”

Oh.

“Lance—“

“No, let me finish, Red.” Lance cuts him off with a hand and a shake of his head. “Just because she died doesn’t mean I had the right to yell at you and be as mean as I was. I was—am—grieving, and I um. Lost sight of what mattered to me. I’m sorry. Can you forgive me?”

Keith is soaking wet. He’s itchy. He’s cold. When he nudges Lance with his shoulder and he glances over, Keith sees his eyes are tear-swollen.

“Always, Blue. It’s me and you, and nothing will ever change that. I told you when we got married that I would be your rock to lean on when the other option was a hard place, and I will never, ever go back on that. Not on my life.” Keith stares directly into Lance’s eyes, throwing as much of his soul behind his words as he can.

Lance glances away to flick tears from his eyes. “Where did I find you? You’re like Mr. Darcy if he had a mullet and more social skills.”

“Same place I found you.” Keith shrugs, leaning in to kiss Lance but stopping short in case he wanted to pull away.

Lance grins and the umbrella slips from his hand, hitting him on the head and then falling onto the sidewalk. “The boyfriend store?”

“Something like that.” Keith says.

They kiss unspectacularly in the rain. There’s water in both of their eyes, both soaked to the bone, but neither of them can find it in the depths of their souls to care. They’ve spent too much time fighting.

A little rain won’t hurt.

#MWAHAH #sorry this is what i got when you said kiss in the rain #i couldnt NOT make it hurt a little #theyre so in love i want to kill myself #soulasks #vld #voltron #keith kogane #vld keith #keith voltron #lance mcclain #klance #vld lance #fanfiction #vld fanfic

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sublimecatgalaxy · 2 years

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Eddie cumming too quick?

Um, yes. I love this.

He whines breathily against my lips, jaw slacking and his hips push and pull against mine. He can barely keep up with my lips, his head lolling a bit and my fingers rake through his hair, tugging ever so slightly.

Making out in his van during our shared free period is possibly the most 'high school' thing Eddie and I take part in, declining invitations to dances and not taking part in any sort of sports. But making out in inappropriate places with fleeting time?

Yeah, we do that.

"Fuck, you gotta stop doing that." My hands just push him back against the seat, reaching down between us to grip him through his sweats, his hips jutting upwards into my touch. He whines, head thumping against the seat and his eyes screw tightly shut, a shiver running down his spine. I watch him, amused, my lip tightly trapped between my teeth, loving how good I make him feel.

"Come on, Eds, you can give me more than that." He laughs at my urging, his moans growing louder as my hands slips beneath his boxers, wrapping around his cock. He groans through clenched teeth, my thumb brushing over his swollen tip in tight circles and without any warning, he coats my hand in cum, his hips trembling in aftershocks of his high. He lets out a strangled gasp, hands lifting in shock and he just stares, terrified, down at my hand, cheeks reddening violently.

My jaw drops in surprise, hand helping him ride through his high regardless but he just whimpers, scooting away from me as much as he can.

"I'm so sorry-" He groans, burying his face in his hands and he leans into me, tucking his nose against the crook of his neck. "I- oh my god." He's so embarrassed he can't even form a coherent sentence, just hugging himself to my chest as I dry my hand off.

"When I said 'give me more' I didn't mean that." He groans pathetically at my teasing, his hands working on tucking himself back into his pants.

"I'm sorry, I feel like I totally just ruined the hot fucking vibe we had going on-" My hands cup his cheeks abruptly, shutting him up and he gives me a pathetic pout, his cheeks squished together between my palms.

"You're hot and it's hot that I make you feel so good that you lose control." A flash of lust passes through his beautiful brown eyes, his cheeks warming under my hands and I place myself back down on his lap, pressing a kiss to his cheek before whispering. "I'll give you some time to rebound. Then we can return to the 'hot fucking vibe' we had going on."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi @crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the-heart @vampviolets@haylee-e@popehaywardssecretgf @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife @smoke-and-fire @officiallyunofficialperson@heyaitsklaudia@rosepetalsparks @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @colbysbrocks @iamasimpingh0e @smoke-and-fire386 @loveshineslikethesky @id-3-kbro @diorsitgirl @errorfound101-allideasburnedout @neverwillknowme18 @ellyskey @taylors-folk @loversjoy @myaloveee @thyris-is @lagataprrr @aaaaslaaaan @minjix @luvrosee

#eddie #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic

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vampsickle · 1 year

Text

you’re everything. ☆ ( dmc5 ) dante

☆ tags - not really any plot, soft sex, dante’s a sweetheart when he wants to be, gn!reader, uhh reader is shy / self conscious.

☆ wc - 938

☆ a/n - wahh tbh ive never written a self conscious reader, so this was interesting, i wanted it to be soft yk.. i thjnk its sweet.

☆ synopsis - once again you’re plagued with terrible thoughts, where you doubt yourself, and where you feel deeply uneasy with yourself. when you attempt to express these feelings to dante, he does his best to comfort you.

It's not easy living with an incredibly devil hunter. Especially not when he'll leave for days, and without contact, you never know if he's badly injured— or worse, dead. You're stuck back in Devil May Cry, usually seated at Dante's desk, quietly running your fingers along the wood. When you're alone like this, your thoughts begin to wander, and they aren't good thoughts. Sometimes you wonder if Dante meets other people while he's away. What if he wants to satisfy himself? And, well, you aren't around.. It'd be easy. You'd never know. Your stomach churns at the thought and you bury your face into your arms, sighing, although your sigh comes out more shaky than expected. Before you even realize it, you've slowly fallen into a deep slumber, until you hear the doors to the entrance open. The familiar sound of Dante's heavy boots makes your head fly up, looking towards the door, and there stood Dante. Your favorite person.

Those thoughts are still plaguing you, and you feel uneasy in front of him, arms crossed over your chest. Usually, you run straight into his arms, cozying up in his warm embrace— But this time you stand there somewhat awkwardly, and Dante stares down at you, confused.

"Hey.. What's up? Uh— Did I do something wrong?"

"No... No, um.. I just— Dante."

"Yeah?"

"Do you.. Still like me? I just.. I—" tears pool in your eyes, and you avoid Dante's gaze, as they slowly begin to slip down your flushed cheeks. You're trembling from embarrassment. Perhaps this feeling had been building up within you for months now. You've had sex with Dante, he knows every single part of your body, what you like and what you don't like. It's almost like he's apart of you sometimes.

He steps closer, cupping your cheek, pulling you closer to him. You attempt to stifle a whimper but a sob escapes instead, and Dante hugs you tighter, like he's afraid that he may lose you.

"Where is this coming from? Of course.. Of course, I still like you."

He buries his nose into your hair, gently inhaling your scent, his hands trailing down to rest on your lower back. In times like these, he doesn't know what to say. He was never the best at comforting or reassuring others.. But, for you, he needs to. He wants you to know how much he cares for you.

"I never stopped." he adds, closing his eyes for a moment, listening to your soft weeping, and he feels content when your noises of sadness begin to quiet down.

What does he do now? Dante rubs your back, pulling away a bit to wipe away your tears, chuckling to himself at how puffy you look. How foolish of you to doubt his love. He could never look at anyone the way he looks at you. No one other than you has that connection. Even now, he thinks you're too good for him. You are everything.

Dante gently grabs your wrist, guiding your hand to his chest, and you feel his heart beating underneath your palm. He watches your face, how your eyes tentatively flit up to him, and he returns your shy gaze with a smile.

"Hey.. Let me make this up to you, 'kay?"

Even when you have these bouts of self consciousness, these clouds of doubt forming in your mind, the fear of losing him plaguing you, it always comes down to this. His body is so warm against yours, carefully thrusting himself in and out of you, reaching for your hand, to hold it. You're much smaller compared to him, and even then, your fingers fit perfectly within his. Soft mewls and whines fall from your kissed - swollen lips, and Dante eats them up, kissing you over and over.

"Can you— Can you feel what you're doing to me?"

His thrusts are a bit harsher now, but he tries to go slow for you, he wants you to feel all of him. And you can. You can feel the veins on his cock drag against your walls, how he's just big enough to reach your womb, how he loves you so.

"No one else.. Has ever made me feel this way," your face heats up, your body ignited, and you moan in response to him. Dante kisses you again, letting go of your hand and pulling your hips flush against his, now he's impossibly deep inside you. He watches where the both of you connect, thrusting out, then in, groaning at the sight. He can't help himself when he begins to move faster, shuddering at how warm you feel, how your walls tighten around him, like you don't want to let go. The thought only spurs him on, and you grab at his arms, whining, wanting to kiss him again.

He falls forward, planting messy repeated kisses against your lips, which makes you smile somewhat— and when he finally does give you a real kiss, it's so full of passion, so full of something you thought you'd never get. He's the only one who gets to see you this way. And you're the only one who gets to see him that way.

"I'm— Oh, Dante,"

"Me too, baby—" goosebumps form all over his body, and Dante shoves himself all the way inside you, coming undone. You're trembling, whimpering and panting, shivering at the feeling of all his essence filling you up.

Even though you're both sweaty, neither of you want to pull away from the other, and he rests his forehead against yours.

"Please, Dante.. Stay with me."

"Mm, I won't go. Promise.."

#devil may cry smut #dmc x reader #writing tag #dante x reader smut #dmc #dante dmc smut #dante smut #dante x reader #dmc smut

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keru0 · 1 year

Text

You Are Loved

Hello tk community!! I wouldn't say I'm entirely new to the tk community but I have only just started interacting VERY recently. However, I feel like I need to start posting some of the fics I have in my head, so why not start it off with some lee!Thoma???

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Ships/Pairings: Thoma/Ayato (Romantic)

lee!Thoma, ler!Ayato

Summary: Ayato can't sleep again and finds Thoma sitting outside by himself. Wanting to cheer up his friend, Ayato decides to take matters into his own hands.

Contains: Sfw, Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 2128

====================================

Ayato can't sleep.

This isn't new for him. He's been tossing and turning in bed for the last three hours, and still isn't tired in the slightest. Just like always, he has so much paperwork to go through and event details to confirm that the stress is eating away at him, forcing him to stay up.

Usually he would fight it and try to meditate, but even that isn't working. It's on nights like these when Ayato goes to the kitchen to prepare himself some herbal tea to help him sleep, which is exactly what he's doing now.

Walking to the kitchen in his pajamas, he thinks back to the time Thoma introduced this remedy to him...

* * *

Ayato's stress and insomnia were keeping him up, so he decided to get some fresh air. Going outside, he saw Thoma sweeping the deck. "Thoma?" he had asked. "What are you doing up so late? And outside at that."

"My Lord! I was just finishing up some duties before I went to bed. I'd rather do them now than worry about them tomorrow." Thoma laughed. "May I ask...what are you doing up so late? I would have thought you'd be asleep at this time of night."

"Well, Thoma, I was trying to...but the stress of all of my paperwork isn't allowing it. I thought some fresh air might help." He smiled at Thoma, "And please, Thoma, call me Ayato when we're alone. We're friends, no?"

"Y-yes my Lor- Ayato. Yes, Ayato. Sorry." He laughed softly, happy that Ayato still thinks of him as a close friend, though still a little saddened that he would never be anything more than that.

"If you want," he continued, "I know a recipe for a kind of tea that help with sleep. Would you mind if I made it for you?"

"No, Thoma. It's far too late, I'd loathe having to delay your rest."

"It's fine my- It's fine, Ayato, " Thoma spoke, catching himself, "I don't mind! I want to help you. Its the least I could do."

Knowing Thoma wouldn't take no for an answer, Ayato answered, "Alright, Thoma."

* * *

Now that Ayato thinks about it, Thoma has helped him through so much. If he weren't afraid of his answer, he would even ask Thoma to be more than friends, but that doesn't seem too likely, considering their circumstances.

As the tea leaves and herbs steep in the pot, Ayato looks out the window, suprised by what he sees -- Thoma, outside sitting against the wall, knees to his chest, head in his knees.

He's never seen Thoma look like...this. He looks...sad. Ever since Ayato had first met Thoma, he's always been so positive and upbeat, smiling to anyone and everyone he could. It looks so odd to see him like this. It doesn't feel right.

Forgetting about the tea, Ayato steps outside into the cool midnight air, and walks towards him. "Thoma?" he asks softly.

Thoma looks up quickly, a look of panic on his face. "M-my lord! Um...is everything alright? Do you need anything?" He asks hurriedly. Ayato thinks he can almost hear him sniffling.

Ayato bends down to sit by him, putting his hand on his back and urging him to calm himself. "Thoma, calm down. What are you doing out here?" he asks. Though it was hard to tell because of the dark moonlit sky, Ayato notes that Thoma's eyes look a bit red and swollen. "And what have I told you?" he says softly, "Call me Ayato when we're alone. Okay?"

"S-sorry, m- Ayato. I- I just wanted to get some fresh air before bed. Why do you ask?" Thoma put a smile on his face, but Ayato knew something wasn't right. It doesn't feel like a real Thoma smile.

"Thoma...are you alright?" he asks softly, his hand still on his back, seemingly holding Thoma in place.

"Y-yes," Thoma's smile faltered for a moment, "Why wouldn't I be?" he asked, looking away from Ayato quickly.

"Thoma, what's wrong? Don't try and hide. It's okay, you can tell me." Ayato spoke calmly, making his voice as soft as he could as to provide some sort of comfort to his...friend.

"I-" Thoma doesn't know what to say. Everytime he's ever come out here to cry he's been alone. He's made sure that it was enough so everyone was asleep -- even if Ayato was having insomnia. So why was he out here now?

Unbeknownst to Thoma, while he was silently panicking, silent tears leaked out of his closed eyes, sniffling softly. Ayato heard, carefully putting his palm on Thoma's cheek, turning his head to face him. "Thoma..." he said, thumbing away at his tears, "Hey, its okay. I'm here, its okay."

With Ayato's soft words, the dam that Thoma had tried so hard to hold, broke. Thoma turns into Ayato, sobbing into his shoulder, staining his pajamas with his tears while his friend whispers sweet nothings into his ear while carding one hand through his hair while the other was rubbing comforting circles into his back.

After quite some time, Thoma's muffled sobs quieted to sniffling. Continuing his comforting movements, Ayato whispered, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Um...I..." Thoma said slowly.

"You don't have to," Ayato rushed. "If you don't want to, you don't have to. I'm just worried about you, is all."

"N-no, it's alright." Thoma started. "It's just that...when I went to Inazuma city today..." he said, tightening his grip on Ayato slightly.

"Yes?" Ayato continued comforting Thoma with his hands, playing with his hair and rubbing his back.

"S-some people...they said that I...don't belong here. They kept going on about how I shouldn't be in Inazuma and that the only reason I work for you is because you feel bad for me. They kept saying how an outsider like me doesn't belong here and how you only keep me around because I do most of the housework. They've always said these things but I just couldn't take it anymore and-" Ayato, noticing how Thoma's breathing and speech is starting to speed up, stops him before any more tears could fall.

"Hey, hey, hey. None of that is true, Thoma." He comforted. "You know that I don't keep you here because I feel bad for you. I keep you around because I..." Ayato paused. On the one hand, Thoma really needs to hear this, but on the other, Ayato's so scared of letting his feelings be known. He's scared that Thoma will reject him right there. However, comforting Thoma is what matters right now, so, continuing what he was going to say, he takes a deep breath, "I love you, Thoma. I love you somuch. So does Ayaka, and Yoimiya, and Itto. Thoma you are so loved. Don't take anything those people say to be true, because they're wrong, okay?"

"O-okay." Thoma frowned.

"Hey, where's that smile I so adore? Hm?" Ayato asked, a playful grin appearing on his face.

"Um..." Thoma tried to smile, but Ayato could still see the hurt behind his eyes.

"Oh come on Thoma, you can do better than that~" He said, playfully dragging a finger against where Thoma's sides meet his back.

Thoma squeeled. He squeeled. 'That was cute.' Ayato thought, becoming flustered for a moment, his sheeks turning pink before regaining his composure and continuing with his playfulness, quietly saying, "Oh? Don't tell me my dear housekeeper is ticklish. Is my dear Thoma ticklish?" Ayato added another finger to accompany the one already dragging up and down Thoma's backside.

Saying Thoma is flustered is a very, very big understatement. 'Did he just call me his dear?' He thought, giggling at the ticklish sensations Ayato's fingers was giving. "N-nohoho! A-Ayato! Wahahahait! Nohohoho!" He giggled, hiding his red face in the crook of Ayato's neck.

"There's that smile~" Ayato cooed, sneaking his other hand under Thoma's shirt and lightly scribbling at his sides. "Your laugh is so cute Thoma. It never fails to make me happy, and thats because whenever I see you happy, I instantly become happy as well. Does this tickle? Does it tickle here, Thoma~?" he teased.

"Ahh! Nohohoho! Plehehehease nohohot THAHAHAT! AYATO WAHAHAHAIT!" Thoma laughed, Ayato's other hand sneaking into his shirt and lightly clawing at his back. With the tickling and Ayato's teasing and complimenting, Thoma might actually die. Death by tickling. Actually, if it was because of Ayato, it doesn't sound too bad.

Thoma forced his mouth shut and smushed his red and overheating face against Ayato's neck even harder, trying to muffle his laughter while his eyes were screwed shut. "Mph! Mhmhmhmhmhehehe! C'mon stohohop!"

Ayato only smirked more. "Oh? Playing hard to get~? Well then, up we go!" Ayato laughed, easily picking up Thoma bridal style, one hand tickling behind Thoma's knee while the other was still working on his bare side.

"AHH! Ayatohoho nohohoho! Put me down! Ahahahaha! Nohohoho" Thoma hid his face against Ayato's shoulder now, not wanting to wake anyone up so they could see this...embarrassing...situation.

Tickling and carrying Thoma, Ayato walked them to his own room and carefully lowered Thoma onto his futon, straddling his waist, never letting up on his attack for even one second.

After he got on top of Thoma, who now seemed to flush even brighter, Ayato took both of his hands in one of his own and pinned them above his head, lowering his free hand to Thoma's armpit, not tickling, but just wiggling his fingers above it, teasing him.

"Hehehe noho! Dohohon't!" Thoma giggled, hiding his face against his arm.

Ayato lowered his face so his mouth was against Thoma's ear, smiled and whispered, "What? Don't what, Thoma?"

"Tickle me! WAIT-" With that, Thoma fell perfectly into Ayato's trap. Ayato lowered his hand into Thoma's armpit and lightly scribbled against it.

Thoma lost it. "NOHOHOHOHO! WAITWAITWAIT IHIHIHI DIDN'T MEHEHEAN IT! NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHERE!" He is sure that his laughter woke up some of the servants, but Ayato doesnt mind -- he'd rather see Thoma happy and have his workers woken up by his laugher than seeing him how he was just a few minutes ago.

"Not here? Hmm...? What about here?" Ayato teased, stopping his attack on Thoma's armpit and instead lowered a finger into Thoma's bellybutton, exposed by his shirt that has ridden up his chest.

"No! Nonononono plehease! Nohot thehEHEHERE! AYATOHOHOHO! NAHAHA-" Thoma's laughed turned silent as Ayato swirled his finger around his navel. Tears of mirth were now flowing down his face instead of the sad tears of earlier.

As Ayato was still wiggling his finger in Thoma's seemingly most sensitive spot, he felt a tapping on the hand pinning Thoma's hands, and he stopped, releasing Thoma's hands and asking, "Are you okay? I didn't go too rough did-" Ayatos question was cut short as Thoma leaned on his forearms and kissed Ayato. Ayato kissed back.

Oh.

Suprised and smiling after they pulled apart, Ayato stuttered, "T-Thoma! Hehe...uh..."

Thoma panicked, thinking Ayato was upset about what he had just done but didn't want to show it. "O-oh! I'm sorry my Lord! I- I didn't mean to-" He was cut short by Ayato himself.

"No! Nonono Thoma, don't be sorry! I...I liked it. Dont worry. I liked it." He said, cupping Thoma's face and kissing him again, smiling through the kiss and as they pulled apart. "I've liked you for so long. When I saw you outside I was worried that something had happened. I...I said I love you. And I meant it, Thoma. I do love you. And many other people love you too. You deserve to be here. Don't let anyone tell you or make you think otherwise."

Getting up, Ayato decided that he was going to bring that tea he started steeping and share it with Thoma. "I'll be back in a minute. You can change into a pair of my pajamas. Theyre in the closet. They might be slightly large for you, but they should be fine." he smiled, stepping out and shitting the door behimd him, making his way to the now lukewarm tea and pouring two cups.

Returning to his room, he was greeted by the sight of Thoma already asleep on the futon, softly snoring on his side. Not wanting to wake him, Ayato gently and quietly set the teacups on the table and went to get the blanket out of the closet. Blowing out the candles, he layed next to Thoma, settling the blanket over the both of them.

Wrapping his arm around Thoma and nuzzling into the back of his neck, Ayato sleepily said, "I love you Thoma. I'll see you in the morning." smiling against the nape of Thoma's neck, breathing in Thoma's sweet scent, both of the men drifting into a peaceful rest, cuddled together.

End.

This is actually the first fic I have *ever* published so please let me know how yall like it!! And feel free to leave suggestions for other fics or critiques!

#lee!thoma #ler!ayato #genshin tickles #angst #fluff #i hope this is good #sfw tickling community #sfw #genshin impact #i wrote this like an hour ago #its 5 am #genshin tickling #genshin tickle

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