#just so endeared to their head empty human | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ceruleancattail · 1 year

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Ahhh I love ur writing!! Can I get Malleus, Leona and Azul's reaction to a cat following them around all day and being super affectionate with them only to find out the cat is not a stray but actually you (bc Ace and Grim messed up and you got turned into a cat) thx!!

A Cat-aclysm!

Malleus does take kindly to small things. Especially if it’s been nuzzling up to him the entire day. A feline of dubious origin, with a rather soft coat of fur. He would know. It seemed content, rubbing against his leg as he sat.

Kneeling down, Malleus slips his hands under the cat’s front paws. Lifting it up carefully, staring into its eyes.

“What are you doing, little one?”

A slow blink, before the cat’s jaws swung open in a yawn. It gazed at Malleus, eyes clouded with sleepiness. Leaning it’s head into Malleus’s hands, purring in delight.

A rather affectionate creature. Perhaps Malleus will keep it around for awhile. This Feline amuses him.

Malleus lifts the cat up, cradling it close to his chest. Prefect does have experience with these creatures. He’ll drop by Ramshackle dorm for a tip or two.

“PREFECT!” A yowl, before a blur of grey rammed into Malleus’ boots. Flames of blue crackle, as the assailant glanced upwards. A grey cat with fire blooming out of his ears, dancing with the winds. Grim, of Ramshackle Dorm.

His eyes light up in recognition.

“Hornton! Ugrh, of course they went straight for you.”

Stretching out his paws, Grim beckons at the cat.

“Come on, Prefect. We got the restoration potion up and running… at least, Ace thinks he has.”

A moment of silence, as Malleus attempts to comprehend the situation. He peers down at the cat in his hands, before turning his gaze on Grim, a million questions apparent in his eyes.

Grim crossed his paws, before letting out a huff of annoyance.

“That right there would be my sidekick. Just a lil’ potion mishap, but we’ll fix ‘em right up! So if you’ll excuse us…”

Positioning himself above you, Grim bites down carefully. Picking you up by the scruff of your neck, he storms off.

Malleus watches you two, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. Really, it’s much like watching a mother cat and her kitten. It’s adorable. You’re adorable.

Honestly? Malleus wouldn’t mind if you took to cuddling with him in your human form. As endearing as you are as a feline, he much prefers your arms around his.

Cats are elegant creatures, are they not? Prancing around with their head held high. Soft, gentle footfalls with their padded paws. Such sly, observant eyes as well!

Of course, those points didn’t really apply to the… creature under his desk. Lying on it’s back, baring it’s furry stomach for all to see. It was a cat, the same way a wolf was considered to be related to a pug.

Curling it’s paws upwards, the cat seemed happy to bat at the loose ends of his coat. Azul watches with an apprehensive gaze. He’s not too sure how a cat managed to sneak in Mostro Lounge. Of course, it could be a prank by one of the Leeches. However, this seemed a little mild, for a prank by them.

Especially with a creature as.. cute as it was. Rolling around on the ground, the cat’s eyes meet his. A yowl of delight, before it slid over to his legs. Wrapping itself around Azul’s ankle, the cat settled onto its hunches. Each purr rumbled from the cravens of its chest, ticking Azul’s skin.

Despite himself, Azul couldn’t stop himself for reaching down. He rubs the cat’s head, humming to himself. Business do regard beckoning cats as bringer of good fortune, no?

His office was rather empty as of late. He wouldn’t mind terribly, taking this cat in his care…

A thundering crash.

Azul’s door was swung open, nearly flying off its hinges. A student dashed forward, hoisting the cat up from the ground. Holding it close to his chest, Ace heaved a sigh of relief. Although that relief soon turned into frustration, with the cat wiggling in his arms in a bid for freedom.

“Trappola, I must ask the meaning of this intrusion-“

A dismissal wave from Ace.

“This lil’ critter would be dear Prefect. They got into a little… mishap. Thanks for looking after them, though.”

With a half-hearted salute of appreciation, Ace slinked out of the office. Muffled protests and threats could be heard from the outside, with Ace threatening to drown you in the antidote.

Azul watches you two leave, with a somewhat melancholy smile playing on his lips. To think that you would be so affectionate to him… it’s sweet. Really.

Leona does not take kindly to anyone who dares interrupt his naps. He’s spent his day scouting for that spot, perfectly warmed by the sun, but still somewhat shaded. A comfortable balmy temperature, just right for him to shut his eyes and drift off into slumber…

Who did this cat think it was? Curling up under his arm, fluffy head rubbing into his skin. Tail swishing in annoyance, Leona responses to its advances with a growl. A guttural one, from deep in his chest.

The cat perked it’s head up, and gave him a stare of displeasure. A no-nonsense face, strangely reminiscent of a certain prefect.

Really now, how bold of it. Looking at him, the prince of the afterglow savanna straight in the eye. His hand creeps behind the cat, picking it by the scruff of its neck. A mewl of surprise, before it spat at Leona.

A chuckle, before Leona lifted the cat up into the air. Holding it above his lips, his jaws opened, snapping playfully under the cat’s body. It tended up immediately, whimpering quietly.

“That’s better, you lil’ runt. You know your place.” A drawl, dripping with mockery. He watched the cat wiggle about within his clutches. What do you know, this little guy had some fight in it. Leona could respect that.

He releases the cat, letting it fall against his stomach with a plop. Reaching up, Leona scratches the scalp of its head absentmindedly. He strokes the cat, sighing. It was a comfortable weight on his chest, warm to the touch. Much like a blanket, settling around Leona’s soul.

A snort, before Leona settles back down. Guess he doesn’t mind keeping a little kitty around. His eyelids flutter back shut.

Before the obnoxious sounds of leaves rustling finally wears down his patience. Leona gets up, snarling at whoever dared to tread on the grass. A startled yelp, before a student creeped forward. With an apologetic smile, Deuce emerged from the bushes.

“Sorry about that,Leona…” a pause, before Deuce’s eyes widen.

“Prefect? There you are!” Duece takes a knee, before pulling you into his arms. You hiss weakly, but curl into his arms without a struggle.

Leona raises an eyebrow. Prefect? That mangy cat? Odd, but not improbable.

“Prefect got into… an accident in potions. They turned into a cat… but we’ve got a cure all ready to go. They’ll be back to normal in no time!” With a slight bow to Leona, Deuce turns to take his leave.

A hand wraps around Deuce’s arm.

“Wait.” A single word. Spoken with all the authority of a king issuing his orders.

As if his feet grew roots, Deuce froze on the spot. That second of hesitation was all Leona needed. Fishing you out of Deuce’s arms, Leona opted to sling you over his shoulders. A purr of joy, before you buried your head into the crook of his neck.

“I’ll come with you. I have my doubts about your.. self proclaimed ‘cure’, Deuce.”

Leona doesn’t want to let you go.

At least, not so soon.

By offering to help, he’ll be able to hold you, even if it’s just for a bit longer.

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 9 months

Text

Infected

Miguel O'Hara X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info

Summary: An accident at one of Alchemax’s labs has led to Miguel being briefly contaminated with cA1m - a prototype drug that is meant to calm animals. However it seems to have a very different effect in humans.

A/N: A massive thank you to @midgardian-witch for reading the beginning of this (catching a hilarious typo), making some excellent suggestions, and reassuring me that I hadn’t just lost my mind completely (yet).

Reader doesn’t know Miguel’s spiderman.

Warnings: dubious consent - it’s basically a sex pollen fic, blood, hair pulling (can I write a fic without an Oscar Isaac character getting their hair pulled?), so much cum, hand job, oral (both m and f receiving), things get a little rough, face fucking, cum eating, biting, scratching, p in v sex, typos, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning!

Word Count: 5433

________________________________

“It’s mainly preliminary.” You said with a smile. “You weren’t in the room, but the filtration system links four of the labs.”

You check over Miguel’s notes, so far, he didn’t have any symptoms.

There had been an ‘accident’ in Lab B2, an accident that was being rapidly looked into. Lab B1, and B4 had been empty, but Miguel had been in B3.

Miguel was currently in a rapidly repurposed testing room, sitting on the bed with his shirt rolled up his forearms. His specific request for somewhere with reinforced walls, doors and windows had been… unusual. But he was a big guy, couldn’t hurt to be too careful.

“How are the others doing?” He asked with a slightly raised eyebrow.

“Okay,” you nodded. There had been eight people in Lab B2 when the container had broken. Two people, like Miguel, weren’t showing any symptoms.

The chemical compound, nicknamed cA1m, while liquid in its storage unit, turned to a gas at above zero degrees. Luckily it also denatured quickly, and there was a good chance that those who still weren’t showing symptoms were unaffected.

The chemical’s intention was for a more humane way to calm wild animals and livestock during veterinary checks. That way the animal in question didn’t need potentially dangerous anaesthetic for basic to mild level medical care.

It also wore off in 24 hours.

However, it still needed some work. And while early tests had gone well, apparently it did not have the desired effect in humans.

Four of the six infected had gone feral, absolutely crazy with rage, trying to kill and destroy everything and everyone within their reach.

Luckily no one had been severely injured before they had been tranquilised.

The other two were different, they had… other urges.

“Have you found any links as to why Doctor Guerrero and Doctor Vaughan didn’t react like the others?” Miguel asks. His voice was calm and controlled, like it always was. Politely interested, like he was listening to a presentation about your latest control data.

“Well, I have an idea. Though I haven’t fully proven it yet.”

He tilted his head to the side in a silent question. The action was endearing, it made your heart flutter and heat rise to your skin. And you hated it so, so much.

You smiled quickly and looked down, trying to cover the fact you’d been staring at him for a second too long.

“So,” you continued, drawing the word out a little to give you a pause of breathing room. “Both Guerrero and Vaughan are in relationships, both of them wanted to,” you pause for a moment, trying to find the most professional way to phrase it. “get to their partners. Unlike the others they also had a massively increased level of oxytocin.”

“Your theory is that that cA1m causes a berserk level of rage unless the subject is in love?” There was the smallest smirk on his lips.

It sounded stupid when he put it like that.

“Well… yes.” You fold your arms. “Look, Miguel,” he grinned when you said his name and you fought, and lost, the urge to smile back. “I’ve had fourteen hours and six people to base this off, plus three who are showing no symptoms. Give me a break, yeah?”

He held up his hands playfully. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You gave me a look.”

“What look?” He teased.

“I know you want to be trying to figure this out yourself, but you’re the one who insisted on not being allowed any breakable, or expensive, equipment while you’re in here.”

He smiled. “It’s true.” His gaze was heavy, crushing almost.

You shook your head and turned to the side table. “Anyway, are you gonna let me draw some blood or what?”

He nodded and held his arm out to you.

You know why you had been ‘nominated’ (begged) to be the one to see Miguel. He wasn’t the easiest CEO to work for in the sense that he was both physically and mentally intimidating, but what usually threw most people was that he was quiet, tended to watch and listen.

And he had a bit of resting bitch face.

But he was actually pretty pleasant to talk to when you got to know him.

You brushed your arm against his as you moved to get your equipment. Miguel audibly gasped.

A flash of worry pinched at your mind, you turned to look at him. “You okay?”

Miguel nodded; he was staring straight ahead at the wall. Obviously in distress.

“Miguel?” This wasn’t the same as those who had suddenly developed into a full-blown rage, but still you couldn’t help the sense of apprehension that crawled along your skin. You glanced at the sedative on the side table and shook your head.

“Miguel?” You spoke again, a little softer and moved a step closer towards him.

He shuddered at your voice, screwing his eyes up tightly. Sweat was beading on his forehead, heat rolling off him in waves.

“Miguel, I’m gonna-”

He moved faster than you could comprehend, one second he was sitting on the bed and the next he was looming over you, his hands clenched tightly around your biceps, and forcing you back.

You yelped as he pressed you into the wall, grabbing hold of his forearms.

His eyes were dark and wild, brimming with a terrifying energy.

“Miguel, wh-”

He crashed his lips into yours, swallowing down your words and slipping his tongue into your mouth frantically. It took you a fragment of a second to react, surprise freezing your limbs solid.

Miguel took your delay to his advantage, pushing his knee between your legs and pressing close. Not leaving a fraction of space between you as he devoured your mouth. Stealing your breath and igniting heat along your veins.

“Miguel,” you managed to push him back, the heels of your hands in his chest. This was the cA1m affecting him, it was the only explanation. Maybe the filtration system had diluted the chemical and caused a delayed reaction. “You need to-”

He snarled, his eyes pinpoint focused on you as he leaned forward and kissed you, hard. All tongue and sharp teeth as he wrapped his fingers around the back of your neck and gripped your thigh bruisingly tight, hitching it high on his hip.

You’d had dreams like this, fantasies, where he pinned you to the wall and kissed you until you couldn’t breathe. But you couldn’t do this, you couldn’t take advantage of him like this-

There was a sharp pinch of pain as Miguel sank his teeth into your bottom lip. You let out a small squeak of surprise, pulling away from him. And raised your hand to your mouth, your fingers coming back red.

Miguel, however, seemed unphased as he trailed kisses along your neck, smearing your blood along your skin. He ground his hips into yours, rocking back and forth and- oh god, he was big, just like the rest of him.

“Miguel, you need to,” you swallowed down a whimper as he sucked at your pulse point, just managing to resist the urge to hold him closer, to run your hands through his hair. “It’s the cA1m, you’re not thinking straight.”

He murmured something into your neck, his mouth not leaving your skin far enough for the words to be intelligible.

“Miguel-” You gasped as he nipped at your throat, not enough to break the skin this time.

Heat was burning from his skin, scorching into your body like you were too close to a flame.

You grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back a fraction too forcefully. You thought the brief pain might snap him out of it, give him a second of clarity. But as his chin tilted upwards, exposing his neck, he let out a long groan, his eyes squeezed shut.

It went straight to your core, your thighs clenching at the sound.

“Need you so bad, shit,” he rocked against you harder, pressing his length right up against your centre. “Always need you, you don’t understand,” he moaned and buried his head back into your neck, despite your grip on his hair, and sucked a love bite into your skin.

This time you couldn’t resist the urge. You sunk your fingers deeper, scratching your nails along his scalp and pulled him closer, pushing his face in your neck.

Miguel groaned appreciatively, digging his sharp nails into your shoulders. He nipped just below your ear, the keen, yet sweet little sting of pain blended with the slow and steady roll of his hips was simply tortuous. Almost enough to make you lose all common sense.

Almost.

You couldn’t do this, you couldn’t do this, you just couldn’t do this.

“Miguel-”

He whined as you said his name.

And you had to bite your lips together in order to hold onto your fading self respect.

“On the table,” you swallowed, trying to get your words out quickly, “there’s a sedative. It’ll help, it’ll-”

“You’ll help, being near you helps.” He mumbles, the words barely audible. He snakes his fingers along your ribs, just teasing the hem of your shirt.

“We just need to-oh!”

Miguel grabs hold of your shirt and pulls, ripping it open, buttons pinging off and going flying. Honestly, there’s less resistance from the material than you expected.

And then he's everywhere, his face buried in your chest, kissing the tops of your breasts as his fingers pinch at your nipples through the thin fabric of your bra.

You can't stop the moan of surprise that escapes your lips as you arch into his touch.

You had to stop this, now. Before he did something you'd very much enjoy and he'd very much regret.

"Fuck," you hiss under your breath and act quickly, trying not to overthink and get yourself caught up.

Maybe if he… had some relief you could grab the sedative in the afterglow. Hell, maybe he wouldn't even need the sedative if he came once.

Before you can lose your nerve you quickly unbuckled his trousers and managed to squeeze your hand under the material despite Miguel's frenzied mind trying to keep the physical space separating you both to a minimum.

He gasps as you touch him, letting out a choked sob that your brain was already committing to memory and filing under 'for use later'.

The velvety soft skin was rock hard and burning hot against your hand. So big that you couldn't even get your fingers fully round his girth.

"Please." He muttered, pressing his forehead against yours, his hands resting tightly on your waist.

His eyes were screwed shut, his mouth slightly open and when you moved your hand, the smallest upwards movement. He let out the sweetest sigh.

You bite your lip and wince as you catch the broken skin, but it doesn’t stop you from tracing your thumb over the tip of him, smearing precome along the head. You were trying to be quick, methodical, clinical, as you began to stroke him, setting an even pace. This was just a problem to solve. You should not be enjoying this.

But every glide of your hand, every touch, made Miguel gasp and moan as if it was the first time he’d ever experienced such sensations, made him bite his lip with his sharp (had they always been that sharp?) teeth, and it was intoxicating.

He pistoned his hips into your touch, thrusting faster and faster, and practically growling as he grew closer to his release.

You couldn’t help but watch him, enraptured, as heat pooled in your lower stomach, your own need growing. But this wasn’t about you.

Still, you couldn’t help yourself rocking back and forth against his leg ever so slightly to just take the edge off.

Miguel grunted, his eyes rolling back in his head, and there was a sharp pinch of pain as he tightened his grip on your waist, his nails digging in much harder than they surely should have been able to.

He swore under his breath as he cums, twitching under your touch, and coating your hand and stomach with his release.

There’s so much of it, far more than there should be as he cums and cums, gasping for air. Another side effect of the cA1m - perhaps you’d be annoyed as his release soaks into your ruined shirt if the sight of him reaching his peak wasn’t exhilarating.

You let go of him quickly, managing to disentangle yourself from him, despite Miguel low, exhausted whine of protest.

God, how were you going to get a new shirt without running into someone? And, you realised, probably a new pair of trousers too. Miguel’s spend had run down and soaked into the left side.

You grabbed the sedative from the side table. Your mind already racing, it wasn’t Miguel’s fault but would he remember? Would he be awkward with you now? Would your little chats and jokes stop? You swallowed down a pang of fear and turned. Now wasn’t the time for what ifs you-

Miguel grabbed your arms and you squeaked in surprise. How could he move so silently? His eyes were dark, hooded with lust, his trousers just hanging from his hips and… well, obviously so much for the idea that him cumming once would be enough.

“I need you.” He growled, his voice so low that you almost felt light headed. “I know you want me too, I can smell it.” He leaned forward scraping his teeth over your pulse point, and for a shameful moment you let yourself get caught up again, allowed yourself to revel in the sensation for the smallest second.

While he was distracted you pushed the needle into his upper arm, through his shirt, and injected the sedative.

It shouldn't take long.

He growled, pulling his mouth away from your neck to stare dangerously into your eyes.

You swallowed. A spike of fear dug into the base of your skull, some ancient urge telling you to run.

“It’s okay,” you said soothingly, unsure if you were really talking to Miguel or yourself. “It’s just the sedative.” You pulled the needle out of his arm. “You’ll be fine, let’s lay you down so-”

He kissed you hungrily, harsh and demanding as he forced his tongue into your mouth.

You allowed yourself to kiss him back the smallest amount as you waited for the sedative to work.

And waited… And waited…

Oh, no, just no, this wasn’t right, this couldn’t be right. There was more than enough in the injection to knock him out and yet he didn’t show any signs of slowing down.

Okay, so, this definitely wasn’t how it went with the others.

You side step, trying to twist past him and break his hold all in one movement. Maybe you could get to the door, maybe you could do… something. Your mind raced, there had to be a way to fix this, to help him, to be useful.

The side step didn’t work, Miguel’s grip was too tight, and you stumbled, skidding around and to your knees. The edge of the bed thumped into your back.

You gasp, gulp and stare up at him. That spike of fear dragging itself down your spine.

He growls and moves closer, his length bobbing and perfectly at your eye level. His gaze is dark and desperate, his bottom lip pinched between his teeth. You could see his pulse thundering in his neck, echoing along the length of his dick.

Rapid heartbeat was one of the side effects all the others had experienced, the sedative being the only thing that had managed to return it to a normaler level.

Maybe there was only one way you could be useful.

Miguel shifts his weight, preparing to move, but you lean forward first and run your tongue along the length of him.

A deep moan rumbles in his chest as you touch him, a gasp of breath. The sound floods heat to your core.

You wrap your lips around the tip, grabbing hold of his hips to pull him closer as you swallow as much of him as you can. You bob your head, encouraging him to move with you and there is a moment where you can feel the tension in his muscles, the strain in his thighs as he tries to hold back, to keep himself in check.

It doesn’t last long.

He snarls and thrusts forward, snapping his hips and nearly choking you. You splutter, trying to breathe through your nose but Miguel doesn’t give you a second to recover. He pushes forward, the back of your head slamming against the edge of the bed as he plunges deeper and deeper into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat with ease and still not even half way in.

Your grip on his hips tightens and you don’t know if you’re trying to pull him away or urging him on.

It burns, the size of him makes your jaw ache, tears roll down the sides of your cheeks from the force of his relentless thrusts.

His hands dig into the mattress by the side of you head, tearing into the fabric as he pounds into you, fucking your mouth with everything he’s got.

He groans, “yes, baby, yes,” his voice low and barely distinguishable as words.

You do your best to just hold on, to breathe and take as much as you can. The sounds of his moans filling your ears and mind, and god, how you wished you didn’t have a gag reflex and could take him deeper.

He keeps ramming into your mouth, snapping his hips against you with a frenzied energy and you push against his lower back, silently begging him to keep going.

Your neck throbs from discomfort, bruising forming where the skin is repeatedly hitting against the hard outline of the bed frame. Your knees burn from where they continuously rub against the floor with every buck and thrust.

Miguel lets out a short, animalistic cry as he cums down your throat suddenly. You moan against him, trying to swallow all of it but there’s just so, so much. It spills out of the side of your mouth and down your chin despite your best efforts.

He leans forward, breathing hard, his cock still in your mouth. And for a second you think this is it, the sedative will take hold or maybe this mindless lust has come to an end.

But he’s still hard when he pulls himself out of your mouth, his eyes still glazed over with the same madness when he looks down at you. He runs his hand over your chin, the pads of his fingers slightly sharp, and collects some of his spend that hasn’t trickled down your neck and onto your torn shirt and bra. Another item of clothing you’d need to change.

He smears his cum along your cheek, the movement possessive, like he was marking his territory.

There’s a pause, the lull in the eye of the storm before he pulls you up from the ground with a shocking display of strength, moving as if you were no heavier than a glass of water he was eager to drink down.

You can’t help the little yelp of surprise that escapes you as he practically throws you onto the bed, your back hitting the mattress and momentarily knocking the air out of your lungs.

But then he’s on top of you, pressing himself firmly between your legs as he growls and snaps his teeth close to your neck. He bites at your throat, hard enough to break the skin and you cry out as the pain quickly disappears into pleasure.

Your mewls only make his actions more frenzied as he tears your clothes completely off you with a speed that makes your head spin, before removing his own. The material rips so easily, as if he used a blade.

He runs his tongue along your chest, messily cleaning up the cum he’d spilt along you just moments before.

“Miguel-” You try to start, but then his mouth is back on yours, tasting like salt and iron as he drinks down your words to leave you breathless.

You gasp as he breaks away, trailing sloppy kisses down your body, his fingers running over your skin and leaving scratches. He bites your hip partially deeply and you keen, arching up into him as he moans.

“Your so fucking sweet.” He mutters before kissing lower and lower and, oh god. You nearly scream as his lips wrap around your clit and he sucks hard. Pleasure coils tight in your belly as a new wave of wetness leaks out and soaks into the torn up sheets beneath you.

His fingers dig into your thighs as he pushes his face into you, only breaking away so that he can lick through your folds hungrily, devouring you like a starving animal.

“Miguel!” You whine, letting out a series of high pitch moans that sound alien even to your own ears.

He sucks your clit once more, his teeth just grazing across it before he snarls and pulls away, pushing the back of your thighs and pressing them against your chest with a crushing strength.

You struggle to take a breath, barely filling your lungs before he’s thrusting into you with a guttural groan and a sharp snap of his hips.

The size of him hurts, it’s too much, too fast and you gasp in pain. You clench your jaw, your eyes screwing up as your hands fly to his shoulders, trying to push him back even though you know it’s no use against his strength.

But he stops instantly, stilling his movements.

You stare up at him in surprise. His eyes are still dark but there’s something else there, something pushing through that lust haze.

“Pain?” He whispers, sounding the most like his old self that he has since this ordeal began.

You swallow and nod, tears building at the corners of your eyes.

He slowly loosens his grip around your thighs, letting go shakily as if it is taking a lot of self control to do so. And while he doesn’t pull out, he doesn’t thrust in deeper either.

Carefully, he manoeuvres your legs down onto the bed either side of him, watching your face for any sign of increased discomfort. It’s only then that he looks down to where you’re joined, completely split open with only a quarter of his length inside.

He groans lows and you brace yourself for a brutal thrust that never comes. Instead he keeps his hips still as he slowly trails his sharp nails down your stomach, teasing the very edge of your clit before pressing his thumb against it fully.

A small moan escapes you and you clench down instinctively. Miguel hums in approval and starts to slowly circle the bundle of nerves, the touch light and soft as he just borders on the edge of losing control.

The pain starts to dissipate quickly, replaced with a steady continuous build of that deep need from before. You start to squirm. The pressure of his thumb isn’t enough and you rock your hips ever so slightly, your breathing hitching in your throat.

"More?" He whispers.

You nod your head rapidly.

“Thank god.” Miguel sighs, the words mumbled like a prayer almost too quietly for you to hear, and lets some of his weakening control slip.

Slowly he pushes further in, the tension shaking in his thighs as he fights with every instinct to pound you into the mattress and turn you into a crying mess beneath him.

He keeps circling your clit, groaning as feels a fresh wave of wetness leaking out of you.

You moan, grabbing hold of his shoulders. But this time you pull him towards you, urging him deeper. God, he’s big. Already it’s like you can feel him in your throat.

The stretch burns, but it’s good, it feels right. Like he is going to reach a whole new devastating part of you. Make you cum so hard that he’ll ruin any other sexual partner for good.

You hook your left leg on his hip and squeeze your calf over his lower back, encouraging him closer, deeper. While you plant your right foot firmly against the bed to rock up against him.

Miguel groans, his eyes closed. His movements on your clit falter as he slides further in.

There’s a sharp pain in your hip where his left hand holds you tight, his nails (it had to be his nails) dug in so deep that they broke your skin.

You let out a soft whine, clenching around his girth as he presses up against you perfectly and still pushes further in. The pleasure in your stomach tightening and starting to completely overwhelm all other thoughts, urging you to just chase your release.

Tears prick again at the corners of your eyes, a soft emotion beating hard in your chest. And you can’t help yourself, you grab hold of the back of Miguel’s neck, pulling him down towards you and arching up at the same time to kiss him hungrily.

He moans into your mouth, pushing back against you and forcing you into the mattress. His hips snap forward, finally sheathing himself completely in your tight, wet heat.

For a moment it’s like you can’t breathe, so completely full that not even air can enter.

Miguel stills, giving you a moment to adjust as he licks into your mouth and groans as your walls squeeze around his length. His pubis bone presses firmly against your clit, and you can feel the echo of his racing heart beat along his skin.

He breaks the kiss to breathe hard, his eyes closed and forehead pressed against yours. “I can’t… I need to…”

“Please,” you answer desperately, kissing him softly as you start to rock your hips ever so slightly.

Miguel lets out a whine, his eyebrows pinched together in bliss and the expression alone is nearly enough to make you cum on the spot.

“Can’t stop,” he mutters and you're not even sure if he’s aware of what he’s saying anymore as he grabs your wrists in either of his hands and pins them to the bed. “Feels so…” He ruts into you, pulling out so that just the tip of his cock stays inside before slamming back into you. “Fuck. So. Fucking. Tight.”

You wail under him as pleasure runs up your spine and down your legs as he punctuates every thrust with an upwards rock of his hips, continuously rubbing against your clit and pressing the head of his length to that perfect spot inside.

“So. Fucking. Wet.” He growls. His nails are slicing into your wrists, but you don’t care. Can’t care, you’ve lost all ability to feel anything but the glide of his cock and the heady build of your orgasm.

“So. Mine.” He growls and bites down hard on your neck. You cry out, the brutal pace of his hips only increasing, bringing you closer and closer and-

You gasp, his name catching in your throat as you finally cum. Every muscle shaking as it crashes over you in waves.

Miguel tears his mouth away from your neck, blood shining on his lips as he watches you come undone. He moans, his thrusts not faltering for a second.

“That’s it, cum all over me,” he glances down for a moment watching himself disappearing into you, amazed at how well you’re taking him, how tightly your walls are griping him, trying to milk him for all he’s worth. “Squeezing me so tight, oh shit-”

He cums loudly, still pistoning in and out of you as he fills you up with his release. There’s still so much of it, some leaks out, spilling out of your abused hole and sticking to your thighs.

You breathe deeply, your mind foggy from how hard you came. Your legs ache from being stretched so wide, your pussy throbs from overstimulation.

Miguel doesn’t stop, still rock hard and trusting. Pushing his cum deeper into you.

“Miguel,” you whine, your throat raw.

“I can’t-” he bites his lip, “I can’t stop, I need to, fuck, please, I need to-”

You kiss his neck, biting harder than you normally would at his jugular. He whines, the sound going straight to your core. Heat starts to build again.

“Keep going,” you mutter against his skin. “Keep going as long as you need to.”

You wake up sore and sticky. Aching and in pain. Even the slightest movement brings out an array of discomfort. Every muscle throbs, like you had done a year's worth of exercise in one day, and all the bites and scratches sting as you shift, the scrapes making you feel like someone had tossed you naked into a bush of brambles and thorns.

It takes you a moment to remember where you are, the tiredness in your bones trying to coax you back to sleep.

“I’m sorry.”

Miguel’s voice makes you jump. He’s still close to you, laying on his side with his chest pressed up against your back. One arm around your waist. There’s tension there, you know he wants to move away but is scared to move at the same time.

His cock is pressed against your backside, soft and sated.

You turn to look at him, too tired to worry about your nakedness. Besides, he had seen plenty of it anyway.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

He scoffs. His mouth pressed into a thin line as he looks down.

It’s only then as you turn around completely to look at him that you see tears in his eyes. “Miguel?”

You softly touch his cheek but he flinches away from you. The action spikes through your heart. He can’t even look at you now.

“I’ve got everything to be sorry for, I, I took advantage of you, I rap-”

“No, no, no, no,” you can’t help but touch him again, putting your hand back on his cheek and rubbing your thumb soothingly across his skin.

This time he leans into it, letting out the smallest, shaky breath.

“You were infected, Miguel, you couldn’t control yourself. I don’t know how much you remember but the sedative didn’t work, and your heart rate was just, I mean, it was crazy high. And, if anything, I was the one that took advantage of you and-”

His eyes snap open. “You? You took advantage of me?” He says disbelievingly. “Look at you.” He touches the bite marks on your neck gently.

You give him a little smile. “I don’t mind.”

He breathes out another shaky breath, but there’s a hint of a smile. “You don’t mind?”

You shake your head. “Happy to help.”

He chuckles a little at that and nods as he runs a hand through his hair.

There’s a pause, a silence that you can’t stand.

“I guess I was wrong.”

Miguel frowns a little, confused.

“My theory, about people having that reaction if they’re in love, I mean.”

There’s a pause, the only sound a little gulp as Miguel swallows. Something passes over his face for a second, a faint trace of heat rising to his skin.

Oh. Maybe you weren’t wrong.

“Miguel?”

He breathes deeply, looking down. “I-”

You don’t give him a chance to finish, letting your adrenaline overwhelm you as you quickly lean forward and press your lips to his. Hoping against hope that you weren’t misreading the situation.

He’s caught by surprise for a moment, but moans happily and softly kisses you back as his arm wraps around you and pulls you close.

The kiss is slow and gentle, languid and sweet. It makes your stomach drop like you were falling from a great height. His embrace the only thing keeping you safe.

He runs his tongue over your bottom lip lightly, careful of the cuts, but licks into your mouth hungrily the second you part your lips. It’s not the same lustful need from before, this is deeper, sharper and desperate in a different way. As if after devouring your body he now needed to devour your soul.

He kisses you again, lightly before you both pull back for a second. He grins at you, a little shyly and you smile as you stroke his cheek.

“You weren’t wrong.” He muttered.

You frown and shake your head, confused.

He chuckles and kisses you again. “Your theory about love.”

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @whatthefishh @mbakubabe @solobagginses @romanarose @saturn-rings-writes

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islandofsages · 3 months

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hello!! I was hoping I could request gn!reader (aka Yuu) who loves dancing (and is actually really good at it, preferably something like contemporary dancing?) but hasn't told anyone in nrc. basically, the boys' reaction to stumbling upon them dancing one day!!

(requesting for cater, lilia, riddle, jamil, malleus, rook and vil!!)

thank youuuu <3

characters: riddle, cater, jamil, vil, rook, malleus and lilia x gn!yuu

tags: relationship not specified, fluff, imagines format; grim mention in riddle's, cater's, malleus' and lilia's. vil mention in cater's. kalim mention in jamil's. vil's is set in book 5

warnings: use of the word "dear" as a term of endearment in lilia's part

author's notes: i tried making them stumble yuu in different places so if they seem random thats why lol also i almost forgot about the "hasn't told anyone at nrc" part i get so carried away sometimes help 😭

Riddle Rosehearts

He has a deep appreciation for dancing and consequently, he respects anyone who is a connoisseur of the art

He would tell you everything he knows about the art and comes to you to inform you on any new things he learns about it

You would tell him that you’re a dancer yourself, especially contemporary dance; the freeing nature of your favorite form has proven to be an effective way to relieve stress and express yourself

…But you’re a bit too shy to admit that to someone as amazing as Riddle - so fate takes the matter into its own hands

You were dancing in Ramshackle’s lounge, all by yourself since Grim is napping, a luxury you don’t get to afford too often

You simply felt like it; you put on some music and suddenly your body grows a mind of its own

You were so absorbed in your performance that you didn’t manage to hear knocks rapping on your door, let alone the sound of footsteps leading up to it

Sensing no answer from you and immediately growing worried, whoever was at the door bursted in to search for you… only to be met with a you in the middle of a dance move

It takes you a few seconds to notice him standing there in awe of your movements. When you do, you instantly ran over to the source of your music and switched it off in embarrassment

He asked you why you did that and would love for you to continue dancing but you only shook your head and tell him you weren’t fully ready to show off your moves yet and that you were simply going with the flow

“I mean, that’s kinda the whole point of contemporary dancing, just going with the flow? But still, I need to choreograph some parts of it to actually look like a form of dance.”

He chuckles at your response and doesn’t push you to resume if you feel uncomfortable. You thank him for respecting your boundaries

Though everything between you goes smoothly after the incident, you’ll never forget the look on his face when he laid his eyes on: the pure wonder in his eyes told everything you needed to know.

Cater Diamond

He thinks dancing is super cool and he sometimes try to demonstrate that - and in your opinion, he’s not half-bad at it despite what Vil would say

You would show off your own moves but you don’t wanna kill his vibes, even if he’d think you’re super good at it

But one day you’ll tell him how much you love contemporary dance and the fact that it can convey every human emotion and experience; and then that day comes, though very unexpectedly you would say

It was late in the evening; the school hallways are mostly empty, save for you and Grim casually having a conversation while walking your way back to your dorm

But one glance outside gives you all the inspiration you need for an impromptu dance session - the sky is bleeding orange, blazing yellow bandaging it

Your movements shift. You are now a tribute to the sunset. Grim stands aside and watches you with a sigh but he holds back his witty comments for after you’re done with your performance

Little did you know you have another person in your audience - Cater also had late evening classes and only now he’s heading back to Heartslabyul

At least, that was his initial plan. Seeing you dancing in the hallway caught him off guard, firstly because who in their right mind would dance in the hallways but secondly (and mainly), the way you move enchanted him

Could it even be called moving? Your limbs bend and flex so smoothly that he thought they turned into water somehow

By the time you’re done, you’re given a standing ovation by both of your spectators - one of whose you jump at in shock

“Yuu, that was like, crazy good! Are you secretly some pro dancer or something?”

You blush a little at the fact that he saw you and at the compliment; after that event, it’s impossible to hide anything from him so you simply tell him everything you know

You’d give him pointers and you’re happy to see his improvement from day to day but most importantly, his shining, genuine smile is something you wouldn’t miss for the world.

Jamil Viper

You know he’s very passionate about dance and you truly admire his skill for it

Although he’d be the perfect dance partner, you feel a little self-conscious sharing your own passion for dancing with him

He seems to sparkle when he shows off his skills and you think you lack that type of shine to your own - he begs to differ though, you’ve come to learn

The two of you were hanging out in his room, music pouring out from his stereo and you drowning in it, your limbs spread out on the floor

Then your room is shaken by some unknown noise, though you can assume it’s Kalim-induced, to which Jamil sighed and excused himself to go check out and possibly fix up

You lay there on your own then, nodding your head to the music, until a song you liked dominates the speakers, taking you by surprise

You don’t know what happened but as soon as the first note hit, you’re on your feet and your body was swaying side to side

Losing your mind and body to the music felt good, but then Jamil entered the room when you were mid-dance. You would’ve stopped if it weren’t for him joining in, but not without a taunt

“What, too scared to dance with me? Come and show me what you’ve got, Yuu.”

You accepted his challenge and continued where you left off - the two of you twisted and turned and ended up on the floor lying on your backs once again, gasping for breath

The two of you laughed breathlessly. He then praised you and your dancing abilities and wondered why you never showed him how skilled you are

You shrugged, thinking it wasn’t a big deal, but then he put a hand on your shoulder and offered to have more dance-offs. You didn’t hesitate to agree

When dancing with him, it feels like the most natural thing in the world, as if you were born to do this. And maybe, just maybe, you were born to meet such a wonderful person too.

Vil Schoenheit

You were a bit let down when you couldn’t actually participate as a dancer for the VDC but at the very least it allowed you to give yourself a bit more time to truly showcase your dancing to others

And hosting a training camp for the actual competitors isn’t too bad if it’s for your dorm and for something you’re passionate about

Ramshackle Dorm is lively, what with everyone there. Conflict was inevitable in this school but it did drive you crazy somewhat

One particular day, everyone was taking a break from Vil’s scrutinous training and you can feel the tension in the air

At some point, everyone left the ballroom. Only you remained seated on the floor, your back to the wall. You stared up at the ceiling and sighed. You couldn’t take this anymore

You got to your feet and simply started dancing, as quietly as you could. No music, nothing - you didn’t want to risk garnering attention by being noisy

It definitely served to alleviate some of your stress. You even smiled to yourself and at some points, fought the urge to laugh out of joy

The ballroom seemed different then. The images of your friends came into your mind - all their smiles, their frowns, the determined looks on their faces. You felt your movements growing more fluid at the thought of them

Once you’re done and panting, bent over your knees gasping for air, a loud clap reverberates in the room. Then another. Then a third. Then a figure emerges, their hands clasped

“What a pleasant surprise. You’re not bad at all. Though it’s a bit too late to recruit you, I surely hope you continue to hone that skill of yours.”

Did… did Vil Schoenheit just praise your dancing skills?

Let’s just say you took his advice to heart - it’s hard not to when it’s Vil Schoenheit himself

You also helped the others with some of your advice after the confidence boost and you’re happy to see their improvement. Seeing Vil satisfied also brought a smile to your face.

Rook Hunt

After the VDC, you found yourself more exhausted than usual by the events that occurred and you begged for a break from whatever deity is there in Twisted Wonderland. Dancing was the last thing on your mind

And for a while, that’s what you got - you were able to simply attend classes and watch your friends bicker with each other like a normal student. It was a well-needed break for everyone

Sometimes you’d chat for a bit with any familiar faces you run into and these days, you found yourself chilling by yourself in the courtyard

One day, you suddenly felt a longing to dance once more. And luckily for you, you had the courtyard all to yourself

It went from being some regular courtyard to your stage and the sun was your spotlight; you shone and you twinkled. You were like a star

And that was what you were told by the end of your performance, accompanied by applause from a singular person

“Très bien, Yuu… your performance has moved me to tears!”

Rook exclaims as he makes his way over to you; that certainly wasn’t your intention. You didn’t even think it was worth watching

But then Rook continues to comment on certain aspects of your performance, elaborating in very vivid detail. You’ve never felt so seen before

He would shower you with compliments, as if to say that you shouldn’t have a single doubt in your mind

And you hardly ever do after that since he very much threatened you to be kind to yourself or else

He would tell everyone about your wonderful skill (with your consent, of course), as if you’re his child who he’s been watching grow up over the years

He may be a bit loud about you at times but when you look over at him and see how proud he is of you, you only sigh fondly and hold back a chuckle.

Malleus Draconia

He doesn’t know a lot about the subject but he appreciates it as a form of art and expression of the people

And so you would tell him all about it while being careful to not let on that you’re one yourself which is surprisingly easier than you thought, considering how oblivious he is sometimes

He merely sees you as some sort of dance scholar and as if he doesn’t respect you a lot already, he definitely holds you in higher regard now

And somehow, that elevates to an even higher level when he suddenly finds you out

He was on his routinely walk around Ramshackle; it was a windy night, weather as pleasant as his conversations with you

Coincidentally, whilst his thoughts were on you, he spotted you in the backyard of your dorm with the ghosts and… hm? It’s brightly lit for once

Curious and wanting confirmation, he changed his route to suspiciously festive-looking Ramshackle instead

Meanwhile, you and Grim were dancing to some music the ghosts were playing for you. You all were having a simple party to forget your worries

The ghosts would comment on how you should stop outshining Grim so much, just to mess with Grim. But they had a point; you had a certain glimmer to you when you dance

Malleus saw that much when he reached your party. He stood within the frame of the backdoor, watching your every movement, entranced

After a few minutes did you notice him there, unmoving. Your steps trace their way to him instead. You extend a hand to him

“May I have this dance?”

And you may - the two of you danced, him slipping in flatteries in between moves. Maybe it was just you, but the party seemed to feel much more lively with him. No, not just the party; the whole world was.

Lilia Vanrouge

He knows a thing or two about dancing from all his adventures and he’d love to show you proof of it

So he does - he's definitely got the moves and you definitely want to show him some of your own… someday

You feel a little self-conscious about your own skills after his show but that doesn't stop you from working on your dancing. You're determined to make your skills worthy of Lilia’s attention!

Little did you know. It's futile to really hide anything from this sneaky bastard (affectionate)

You were on your way to class from Ramshackle with Grim and unfortunately for you, you had a little earworm stuck in your head that day

It started off as a skip, then two skips. By five skips, it turned into a full on dance. You felt alive, like you were a main character in a musical

Grim was making fun of you at first but then he started linking his arm with lampposts and swinging himself alongside you

Lilia was watching this all happen from afar, as one does. A student dancing their way to class is no everyday spectacle after all. And it's you too! All the more reason to play peeping tom

Just when you're about to reach the main building did he finally give you the jumpscare of a lifetime

“Why, you didn’t tell me what a wonderful dancer you are, my dear Yuu! I must admit, I feel quite offended.”

He was jesting of course - he was merely glad that he got to witness such a sight. And you’re glad that you’re not as unskilled as you thought you were

He tries his best not to boast your skills to others but you know he can never keep such hidden talent, well, hidden from his beloved Diasomnia family

You got the Diasomnia stamp of approval - not only that, but you’ve definitely impressed someone you hold dear.

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littlebluespoon · 6 months

Text

Stranded - Octo!König (Part 4)

Hello! Here's Part 4, as promised even though it's the next morning for me :)

1.5Kwords, 18+ non-humanoid sex toys and obsessive behaviour in this chapter

AO3 link

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

---

(stole pic from google sorry)

Once again, you were going weeks without properly seeing König. You’d catch his shoulder disappearing around a corner or the sound of suckers echoing in an empty hallway but no actual sightings of a giant man or bright octopus. For you, life was mostly normal. Patching up soldiers, bandaging up Soap after he gave himself happy tail again and hanging out with the rest of the taskforce while on downtime,

“Soap, you cannot rocket jump in real life. You. Would. Die.” If this had been the first time you’d had to explain this to the canine hybrid you might have had a little more patience but seeing as it was not, you were ready to throw something at him,

“But whit if we weren’ human?” Soap’s enthusiasm at least was endearing. So giving him an exasperated smile you just shook your head and moved on while noting to refill your supply of painkillers and burn salves.

It was currently just you and Soap in the small kitchenette in the taskforce’s assigned rooms, you had no patients to see and Soap had the day off given his ‘extensive injuries’ so the two of you had taken over the games console and were having a competitive tournament in Mario Kart, loser has to steal a piece of clothing from Ghost. Currently it was 2-2 and you were on the last match so now it was getting dirty,

“So was the LT around when you broke your tail?” you teased, hoping for him to take his eyes off the screen,

“Oi! At least I wasn’ the one wi’ hickeys all o’er their neck,” he fired back, smugly like he’d been expecting your teasing.

“They weren’t hickeys! …They were bruises…” you refused to look at him, knowing exactly the expression on his face having seen it far too much for your liking,

“Isnt that what hickeys are?” you decide that driving off the edge of Rainbow Road was the better option, take the loss and deal with the consequences later.

Seeing as you have 24 hours to steal from Ghost you left Soap to his gloating and went off to find out where Ghost was before breaking into his room. After finding out from a passing corporal that Ghost was in a meeting with Price, and double checking the hall was clear so no one else would catch you breaking into your superiors quarters, you picked the lock on his door before quickly running in and grabbing the first item from the laundry basket, a shirt with his name on it. Perfect for your bet, not so great if anyone else sees however. Ignoring all of that you run back to Soap, completely missing the seething bright orange octopus attached to the ceiling above you.

-----

Retreating to you room after dinner without having to take a mountain of paperwork with you was a luxury but seeing as the 141 hadn’t been called out in several weeks, you’d had plenty of time to catch up on it. Which means your plans for the night were finishing your current read and maybe starting a new one if there was time. Of course those plans depended on you getting to your room, it seemed like every four or five steps you were stopped by a Kortac soldier,

“Do you know where the colonel is?” “Do you think you could look at something for me?” “I want a second opinion on this rash,” “Could you..?” “Would you..?”

By the time you escaped them your plans of finishing your book were out the window. However as you approached your door, all your plans went out the window. There was a box outside your door, plain brown, not small but also not massive. It looked like it held a water bottle or something. The hallway was empty and there wasn’t anything to tell who had left it but given that you were on base you were pretty sure it wasn’t anything dangerous so as you closed your door you decided it could wait until after you’d gotten changed into comfier clothes and out of your uniform.

The nondescript box didn’t have much weight to it so you were expecting it was maybe mislabelled bandages or some other medical dressing so when you scored open the box you were surprised by the nice stationary. High quality textured paper, a subtle peach colour with typed lettering;

Think of me My Heart

An odd note but what was even odder was the other object in the box. A bright orange tentacle. About as big as your fist, with a marbled look of orange and teal, and made of silicon. Someone had left you a tentacle shaped sex toy. Upon recognition a yelp leaves your mouth and you’ve thrown the box across your room before you had even realised you’d moved. You know exactly who sent it, you just couldn’t understand why. You barely know each other, you don’t even think he’s said more than 10 words to you outside of missions or commands. You’re the medic on base with the most aquatic hybrid training, that’s the only reason you see him so often so why would he do this? Or maybe he didn’t, maybe it’s a prank? It could be Soap getting back at you for teasing or even Ghost for stealing his shirt or maybe even a Kortac soldier trying to rile up their colonel or something. It could have been anything, it was probably just a prank because you didn’t want to even entertain the thought that König had sent you this. He was a friend, it was a tentative relationship but you called it friendship as after everything you’d been through with him it was a little hard to just call each other acquaintances. It’s a prank, so you boxed it back up and shoved it to the back of your wardrobe to be never seen again.

Trying to get to sleep was difficult. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up and every time you turned around it felt like the blankets were suffocating you. After an hour of this you decided to check your room, turning on all the lights, opening all the doors and doing a well-known routine to you. Unlock, open and check, relock. You did that with all the cupboards, you pulled your bed apart and reorganised your desk, kit bag and wardrobe. Nothing, there wasn’t a thing for you to be paranoid about and you’d made sure of it. Climbing back into bed exhausted, you settled into the blankets and closed your eyes. The blankets no longer heavy on you, the hairs on the back of your neck were soft and yet, you still felt watched.

-----

In the bright light of the morning the box looked no different and thankfully your paranoia had waned, so there was no interruption to your morning schedule. Not until you had you leave your room, which is where you found another sheet of peach coloured paper, folded next to an envelope. The fear stopped you in your tracks. Once again there was no one in sight, no noises to indicate a person either and you hadn’t heard anything while getting dressed. Deciding to deal with it before breakfast seemed like a smart decision at the time because if you’d known what was in the envelope after breakfast you were sure you’d never have kept it down;

My Dearest Heart,

You must think me a cowardly man for this but I felt this was the best way to approach you. I could not hear you last night, were you holding in your heavenly sounds so that no one else might hear? You need not worry Heart, I would never let anyone else near you. Not even the feral Lieutenant you seem so fascinated by. I do hope you liked my present and that you enjoy this one too, although I admit these were more for my pleasure.

With all My Love,

Your Soul

You could feel your heart escaping from its cage with every word you read. You were a soldier, you’d been in battle, you’d nearly died. There had been scarier moments in your life than this. So how was it this is the only time you’ve ever wanted to curl up in the back of a cupboard and never face the world again? You didn’t want to open the envelope. You never meant to open the envelop but your hands were shaking as you moved to stuff the letter with your first unwanted gift. It slipped and that’s when you discovered it wasn’t sealed and its contents had spilt all across your floor. Pictures of you were scattered across your floor. You; eating, working, training, in the gym, in the shower and even in your bed. You had been watched. Someone had been watching you for months.

#bluespoonswriting #call of duty fanfic #octo!könig #cod fanfic #call of duty x reader #könig x reader #konig x reader #octo!konig #könig x you #könig x y/n

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byhees · 7 months

Text

boyfriend.

엔하이픈 니키 ・ female reader + word count 400 genre fluff established relationship warnings not proof-read skinship playful jealousy — more

a/n. scheduled!

a relationship with riki would be so endearing.

little inside jokes that are just between the two of you; softly giggling to one another upon the mention of a memory, liking the exclusivity of it all.

likes to text you without warning in the early hours of the day, filling the chat with broken up messages of ‘i miss you’, or tons of little check-ins, like ‘are you up, love?’

would jokingly sulk and mope the moment someone else gets the smallest ounce of your attention; “hmph, just say you don’t love me anymore,” he’d say, crossing his arms, head whipping to the side. “don’t actually say that though,” he’d quickly add, turning back to meet your gaze.

would fearlessly imitate animals in the middle of a public place just to see you giggle, arms flailing about in the empty air. he really likes that warm feeling he gets whenever he manages to make you laugh out loud; or alternatively, he does so out of adoration for your reaction— the way you lightly slap his shoulder in pure second-hand embarrassment, a pretty pink hue tinting your face.

would brush your hair for you, a fond smile tugging on the corners of his lips; he likes hearing you ramble about your day, it’s one of his favourite pastimes.

dancing in the refrigerator light on late nights, soft stomping and non-existent music resounding in the air.

will not watch a movie unless it’s with you; particularly enjoys it when you both are lying beside each other, his fingers lightly combing through your hair, eyes fixated on the shifting scenes in the television.

likes to utilise his tall height to tease you; would intentionally keep the plates on the highest shelf of the cupboard, just so you’d ask for his help; has the biggest, most beaming grin smothered all over his face when you do so.

would defend you in your stead whenever you’re getting teased by another party; he reasons that it’s because he’s the “only one that’s allowed to laugh at you”; would ruffle your hair afterwards, a proud smile plastered across his lips.

“you’re the human embodiment of sunshine, you know that?”

taglist open! @halcyoni-ki @wondipity @yjjungwon @shysakuno @niktwazny303 @crxzs @minhosify @haechansbbg @yeomha @stepout-09-15 @chansburgah @sona-verse01 @lilly-bubblelops @smouches @mrchweeee @luvistqrzzz @j1nniee @mlink64 networks! @kflixnet @enhanet @k-labels

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saekkas · 7 months

Text

𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐓𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐓

summary: the day gojo satoru came home, everything changed– the day the strongest returned scarred, something shifted.

it’s warm. the chilly, almost numbing, weather from winter has thawed– leaving behind patches of ashen snow. the birds chirp outside of your apartment window, calling out to each other as they huddle for warmth.

you watch, enraptured, as a mother bird guards its fledgelings– it preens their wings, maintains its nest by scourging for branches and thickets alike, spreads its wings for when a threat comes near.

it’s almost endearing, how human and animal nature mirror each other so well.

“you okay?” the touch of your hand is feather light, leaving no trace as they trail down satoru’s back. your lover’s quiet– almost uncharacteristically so as he lets you tend to the scars that now litter down his back and throughout his body.

“i’m good,” satoru hums, his eyes plastered on the mugs that are nestled on your nightstand. on some days, when the memories haunt him more than they should, he refuses to speak altogether– lips pressed tight against each other, shoulders slumped as he cradles himself on the bed.

it’s warm, he once told you, eyes so vacant and empty. devoid of the usual bright blue spark they carry. i like it when it’s warm.

“does it hurt?” you know it doesn’t– know that after what he’s been through, everything’s just another shade of numb. and yet, the tiny whisper in your mind wonders if he truly understands what you’re asking. “you can tell me, y’know? that’s the only way i can help.”

“they’re healed. nothing hurts. not one bit.” satoru grins, showing off his boyish, almost childlike happiness that contrasts the way his eyes are dimmed, hair a mess atop his head.

because that’s who satoru is– who he’s supposed to be. the weight of the world rests on his shoulders, a burden so heavy it dilutes, erases one’s sense of self because if he isn’t the strongest, what else is there to be?

for a fraction of the moment, you let him comfort you– chuckle like everything is the way it was. you miss the sound of his voice, the annoying cackle he lets out just before laughing– most of all, you miss him. the satoru that isn’t a shell of the person he used to be.

your hands glide down the expanse of his back while your eyes roam his face– you take in every individual wound, each a reminder of what he fought for and lost. you wonder what looks back at him when he stares in the mirror.

“i know that,” you mumble, lifting a hand to cup his cheek, gently thumbing his dimple. “but remember what shoko said? it’ll be better if we put some ointment on them.”

“right. right.” the roll of his eyes might have been endearing had he not stiffened at your words. “we should have my wounds healed so they look less ugly.”

the term wound sounds like such an insult for how gentle your touches are when he’s with you.

“hey,” you whisper, watching as his eyelashes flutter the moment your hand threads through his hair. “they’re not ugly, satoru. no part of you could ever be ugly.”

you don’t let him speak, shake your head when he opens his mouth to object. “they’re like stars, y’know?”

“i think you meant to say ‘like pimples,’” he snorts, sounding playful as he waves a hand to dismiss your statement, but you can see it– the hatred and anger deeply rooted in his tone. “or ugly warts.”

“they’re a constellation of stars, satoru. one that’s written on your skin.” you tilt his head upwards, watch as his pupils dilate– a sea of black drowning in blue. he shivers, spine straightening when your fingers trace his jawline. “each one so pretty like they were individually brushed on by a painter.”

you press a kiss to his lips, let him feel the expanse of your love as your hands move before they rest on his chest– you feel his heart thud against your palm, a gentle but needed reminder that even when all else fails, you still have one another. “you are my world and all my stars, satoru. the sky would be so empty without you.”

“then, i’ll consider them yours,” he whispers after a moment of reprieve, leaning his forehead against yours– he lets his façade fall, unhooks the mask he wears for the world. baring his soul wide for you to see. you soften at the tears that pool in his eyes, like diamonds glistening in a storm. “just like how i am too.”

to most people, the strongest may have fallen– but, in your eyes, he’s still your saving grace.

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un-lawliet · 6 months

Text

“Unspoken”

— in which Dazai’s kiss contradicts his words.

(or reader tries to move on, fails and Dazai picks up the pieces)

Shin Nakatani was nothing like Osamu Dazai, you concluded.

Perhaps that’s why you were sat in the corner of some grubby bar, listening to his proclamations of self acclaimed greatness whilst you sipped at a (now bitter) beer, refusing to make eye contact with the man.

Osamu Dazai, never spoke about himself, sacrificing a genuine exploration of his true thoughts and feelings for charming smiles tainted with an overdramatic flair.

By comparison, you think, you’d much prefer the empty conversations you had with Dazai, over the overbearing false confidence oozing from the man beside you.

His mouth moved in a manner that did not wait for you to divulge. Unrelenting, flapping jaws reminding you of how lucky you were that such a “tired looking woman” was so “endearing enough” for him to give you a chance.

You don’t even know what that means, eyebrows furrowed as you processed the insult, hating how you silently relished in the honesty of his voice.

At least you were talking to someone who did not hide true intentions behind confusing actions and unsaid truths.

You bite the inside of your mouth, and embrace the seething sting of pain, punishing yourself for your constant comparison.

You were not here to think about Dazai, you were here to move on, to avoid the constant, overbearing ache in your chest that came with acceptance that Dazai, could never reciprocate your unspoken feelings.

And so you shuffled in your battered bar stool, the creaking below forcing you out of your thoughts and back to the lost conversation.

The bars light was dim, hollowing out the faces of all those who sat within its dullness, shadows chasing out the warmth and leaving seemingly lifeless, drunk husks of people.

“…And of course one should ask where I get the time to balance both work and steady relationships.”

“Uh huh..”

“And I would tell the fool who asks the same thing I’ll tell you…I do it by combining the two!”

“Yea?”

“To me, relationships are like business, both transactional, both just as give or take as the other.”

You awkwardly look up at him, he winks and you feel sick.

“Of course.” You offer, wishing you could bite your tongue of instead of agreeing blindly to his vulgar beliefs.

He continues in his crudeness, and you glance at your phone, staring at the time.

00:37

You want to go home.

Clearing your throat, you fold in on yourself when he pauses mid sentence to look you in the eye, his brow inclining.

“It’s um late, I have work in the morning…” You trail off and inwardly die when a flicker of exasperation dances in the movement in his changing expression.

“Would you mind walking me to the train station?” You scramble, trying to save yourself from the awkward stillness that follows.

He nods and you both move to leave, he walks in front of you and you watch the back of his head as he continues to talk.

He has a mole on his neck, it peeks out at you from behind the collar of his shirt, you count the freckles behind his ear and wonder if he even knew they were there.

In your opinion, Yokohama was beautiful at night.

More lively. Cluttered with different people doing different things, every passing face appeared more open when followed by moonlight.

The streets lined themselves with opposing humans with different names and contrasting history’s, and yet, they all looked the same when shadowed.

You’re nearing the train station, although you knew there would be no train waiting for you past Midnight, Nakatani, in all his drunken glory, did not seem to realise this, instead he had slowed his pace, allowing you to keep pace with his wide strides. A prologue to a goodbye.

A woman bumps into you pushing you towards your date, he laughs, the sound vibrates brazenly in your ears and you smile because you don’t know what else to do.

“Can I kiss you?” He’s saying, holding your shoulder, “As a reward for a long journey.”

You want to remark that the walk only took five minutes, the time on your phone reading 00:42, but you don’t.

Instead you nod and turn to him, watching as his rosy gloating face gets closer to your own.

There’s a horrible tongue in your mouth.

It curls around and smooths the underside of your teeth, mapping out the area of your gums and you cringe, your nose scrunching.

He tastes of cheap liquor and cigarettes, you feel yourself dizzying from past nicotine breathing down your throat, burning your lungs as you inhale him.

Your choke and step away, wiping your wet lips as you do, recoiling in the after taste, spluttering out fake broken apologies.

“I just remembered..” You hesitate grasping for words that appear to be stuck in your raw throat, “I can’t kiss you.”

“Excuse me?” He replies, you see his broken ego in the darkening of his eyes as he names you a bitch and looks you up and down.

“I’m sorry Nakatani, that was a horrible kiss.” You state, words falling out of your vile tasting mouth, the alcohol on your breath forgetting to filter kindness into your speech. “I um… can’t kiss you.”

“Well your not too nice to kiss either, don’t think this was anything more than charity work.” He hisses back, teeth bared. You think he looks like a dog.

“Then, you should consider better ways to help charity, Mr Nakatani.” You breathe, unable to add enough insult into your voice. Your stuttering, shame ploughing it’s way through your body, you want to throw up.

He’s cursing at you, face flushed with alcohol and embarrassment, and then he’s turning and walking away, he sways with the whisper of the wind and you suddenly feel quite drunk yourself.

It surges and you gag, turning to face the crumbling wall beside you, shaky hands clamping over your mouth as you relive the kiss only moments prior.

You feel sick, you want to go home.

There’s a street light beside you, it flickers when you sit against it, eyes staring out into the docks Yokohama, the sea, a black pool before you.

The waves carry the moon as they crash amongst each other, ripples of reflection morphing to produce a white highlighted stream, stopping the merging of a black sky and sea.

You rub a hand over your face, letting the skin under your eyes drag downwards before you let your hand fall to rest on the ground.

There’s no stars, it must be cloudy tonight.

Shin Nakatani was nothing like Osamu Dazai. Perhaps that why you’re now alone, sitting on a wet footpath, in the crux of a cloudy, cold night, thinking about him instead.

You sigh, and watch as your breath materialises into smoke before you, fading into the darkened dusk, carried by a breeze of which you could not seem to feel.

Your superficial affection for Dazai may not be built upon the foundations of shared interest, but God was it a hard wall to knock down.

You just can’t seem to move on from the man, despite his every action being one that pushed you away again and again.

You brush a tiny spider from your thigh, you don’t see where it lands, eyes too focused on the bitten nails found on the tips of your cool fingers.

“Excuse me! The pretty lady on the ground!”

You seem freeze, your head falling backwards to hit the street lamp behind you.

Of course he would find you like this, huddled pathetically on the side of a road wallowing in self pity.

He stops just in-front of you, bending down to look you in your eye, an grin plastered across his face, you almost huff at the irony of his appearance.

“Hello Dazai.” You mumble, blinking up at him, weak light reflects off his features, b across the stretched apples of his cheeks making it appear like he’s glowing.

“You’re on the ground.” He muses, standing upright, looking down on you, a view he much preferred.

You don’t reply, choosing instead to simply look away, ignoring the palpitations of your heart. Vulnerability silencing your words as you swallow the remnants of your horrible, horrible kiss.

Dazai looks at you, his eyes moving across your painted face, glancing sideways to an empty street, solidifying your aloneness, his expression morphs into one of acute understanding before it vanishes in the execution of a trained smile.

You don’t see his smile, but you take his momentary silence as one of accurate assessment.

You think his quietness is more deadly than his usual entourage of sharp one liners that encase each conversation shared with him.

You wipe your mouth again.

“..I’m on the ground.” You conclude, stretching your legs in-front of you, eyes remaining on the scuffed tips of your battered shoes. “I’m um just sitting to catch my breath Dazai, you can..you can leave, you don’t need to stay.” Your words come out whispered, and you think they sound cruel when you taste them on your tongue.

“But your gloom is so blatant my dear!” The man before you guffaws, his volume far exceeding your own, “How could a gentleman like myself leave you here to rot in your own misery!”

You glance up at him and he’s clutching his heart through the layers of his coat, head raised in a substantial showing of himself.

You rub your eyes, you feel the makeup on your lashes smudge.“You’re giving me a headache.”

“How cruel of you to say!”

“Dazai.”

“Hm?”

“Please, go away.”

He’s smiling, he’s smiling at your words and you want to rip your eyes out as an atonement for ever believing you could see “authenticity” in his grin.

You’re tired, and Dazai knows, he knows everything. You’re sick of his unspoken understanding.

You hear a wave crash along the far side of a ship, it crashes into a dock and vibrates the ground on which you sat.

It’s bitterly cold, your teeth chatter in your jaws, you clamp them shut, and look away again.

“I’m assuming it was a date then?” Dazai’s watching you closer now, eyes flitting across the slight tremor in your lip as you nod.

“Leaving a beautiful woman by herself in the dark, he mustn’t have been that interesting.”

“He said I looked tired”

“You do.” His voice sounds strangely empty, the blank sky above you holding more substance, the crinkle of his eyes seems forced now, as if struck by realisation.

You don’t know what to say, so you resort to saying nothing, focusing on the blinking of your eyes, and the rise and fall of your chest. Dazai watches as you breathe.

The hands in his pockets are tainted red across the knuckles, his finger tips too. Bandages seemingly useless in combating the perils of an approaching winter, Dazai doesn’t mind.

He joins you in your silence as he steps towards you and kneels down, shoes scrapping across the hard ground, it looks like he’s falling to his knees.

“You’re stuck in self pity.” He states, his voice sounds bored, eyes narrowed. Embarrassment clings to the curve of your waist and trails it’s way up to your face, you blink and look towards the source.

His nose is slightly reddened, but his expression does not falter, does not reveal any rhyme or reason, nor a motive to why he’s not leaving.

You try to dissect his thoughts in your mind, cutting him open and trying to stare through the black pools of his eyes to try reach the core.

Instead you find you can’t, there’s a steel wall preventing you from prying, you grow frustrated and Dazai just watches.

“Self pity is a nightmare.” You almost think he whispers it.

You want to reach out and touch his face, follow the curve of his lips right up the hair framing his hollowed face.

“Can..can I hold your hand?” Your timid, pathetic, needing to be held to stabilise yourself, how did you get so weak.

There’s a pause, Dazai stiffens, it’s just barely noticeable but you see it, you’ve caught him off guard with your boldness.

Dressed up to impress another man and yet, it’s him you ask to cling to in the blackened equidistant of the night.

Slowly, as if approaching prey, Dazai lifts his hand out of his pocket, his eyes never leaving your face as he presents his hand.

You grasp it, hold it.

You think the ground would be more pleasing to touch.

It’s obvious he’s uncomfortable, he can’t push you away when you’ve captured him like this, but for the sake of the expanding the mask he’s crafted after years of desolate numbness, he says nothing about the way your hand tightens around his.

“And what would your date say about this hm? Do you usually hold the hands on another after being with another man?” He muses, you think his smile looks cold.

“It’s not a habit.” You mumble, your thumb tracing the line where his bandages end; they’re new, the implications make you feel sick.

The ground where his knee sits digs into his flesh, stones pressing into the skin of his knee, but he does not move, he’s almost statuesque.

You frown, at him, the reasoning behind his words falling onto your ears. “Don’t judge me Dazai.” You mutter, words sounding far more harsh when spoken out-loud.

“I wasn’t.” It’s simple.

Dazai’s quiet when he lies, at least you can walk away having learned something new about the man who holds your hand but drops your heart.

“I-I’m just sad.” Your shoulder deflate, his hand tighten around yours for a split second, you think you imagined it.

“Then.” He starts, dullness oozing out of his voice, “If you’re so miserable why not join me in a double suicide, I’m sure it would be far more romantic than this.” He removes his hand from yours and stands, forcing his hand back into his pocket, you miss how he flexes it, as if holding back a truth he cannot speak.

His smile is ugly, so ugly that it’s pushing you away, forcing your head to look the other way, to not watch the man hiding his inner downfall infront if you. Dazai’s eye twitches, and his mask cracks for a moment.

A building nearby turns its lights off, you see the silhouettes of two people, working the closing shift, they laugh as they pull down the shudders before the door, and turn to walk together, in the opposite direction, none the wiser to the two people sat watching them from afar.

“Don’t do that Dazai.” You start, your clawing onto the remains of an awkward conversation, trying to force it back to life, ignoring how his words made your heart stop in the hollowed captivity of your chest. “Please, not now.”

Your begging he realises, begging for a true moment with him.

But he won’t give you that, to think otherwise is foolish.

However, as he watches your trembling figure, foolish is the only way he can describe you. The grotesque smile falls from his face and onto the dirty ground of which he stands and you sit.

“Struck a nerve?” Dazai queries, he sounds bored again, you hate yourself.

“Sorry, sorry.” You repeat, eyes swimming with poorly expressed expression. “I’m just..selfish and lonely tonight.” You’re confessing, as if he himself is a God, nihilism forgotten in the shaking of your voice.

“I just wanted to feel connected with someone without having to beg for it”

The meaning of your words crumbles in the silence that follows, dancing across the distance between the pair of you, from your mouth to his ear.

“Ah.” A soft smile of understanding crosses his features, you jump when he turns on his heel, “Then I am not suited for his conversation.”

“I’ll call Kunikida, he’s more inclined for situations like this than I.” He’s walking, he’s walking and you’re watching and you feel yourself rip at the seams, you need to know if there’s a chance, a chance he might care. You fight the will to keep yourself composed and your desperation comes out triumphant.

You’re stupid, he knows of your affections, yet he leaves every-time.

“I kissed him.”

The air melts into a bitter, silent breeze, you fear you might have just pushed a boundary, reaching forward with your eyes closed, crossing a line you could not see.

Dazai stops.

He doesn’t know why he stops.

He does not care for your love, he does not reciprocate, he refuses to. You don’t know him, your love is not his to accept, it acts as a maladaptive pining for a man, a human, for which he cannot claim, less he wear a fake suit presenting as himself.

And yet, you kissed another man, and the chilly motions of the wind blowing across his stagnant face whisper to him that he’s bothered by this, blowing into his ear, mocking him for being, despite everything; as humanly selfish as you.

Perhaps he’s bothered by your lack of self-respect, kissing a man you were so clearly uninterested in in your vain search for connection, but he turns and looks at you, and feels in his soul, that he’s lying to himself.

It’s a realisation that leaves him as bitter as the atmosphere encasing the pair of you.

“And?” He speaks as if it’s a secret, as if him prying was a sin, and he omnipotent.

“It wasn’t you.”

The small movement of his head betrays how much he wants to look away, forcing himself to stare you out, to intimidate you into walking away.

You’re brave tonight, he thinks.

“I don’t hate you Osamu.” You breathe.

You can’t breathe, too preoccupied with staring, truly staring at his face, wondering if maybe, just maybe, he would listen to you should you get to his level.

You stand up, he stays where he is.

“Are you expecting reciprocation?” He moves to checkmate, his voice heard like a warning, his eyes reading as empty.

You shake your head, and bite the skin on your lips.

“I just needed to know that you heard me.”

Dazai throws his head back and laughs, it fills the void of sea and sky and you shake at the cruel sound. To an outsider it may appear as if he’s brimming with joy, unable to hide its serene hold on him. But you’re too close to mistake his laughter as anything but uncomfortable.

“And tell me.” He breathes through his laughter, his hand placed on his stomach, “Did you hate him? Hate the kiss?”

Shame burns your cheeks, and you look to your shoes again as heat floods your face.

Your king was dead, you’d been defeated.

“It was like a slug in my mouth.” You muse.

Eventually he stops laughing, and your world returns to normal. Silent and unchanging, you count the intervals between the sounds of the waves.

Dazai is untouchable again. Everything is back to how it was.

“Shall I take you out drinking too then hm? Then I’ll kiss you properly and we shall never speak again.”

You don’t answer, thwarted by the maze of his twisted personality.

“Did you hear me?” He mocks, his smile sly, you want to rip it off his mendacious face.

He’s pushing you away, the distance between you extending far beyond your reach, you falter with the consequential loss of your friendship with Dazai.

You don’t know what to say, your words can’t create a bridge to combat the vehement river of “unsure’s, so instead you shake your head, arms moving up to embrace yourself.

Dazai is quiet when he lies, however he’s silent when he’s unsure.

And when you don’t respond he narrows honeyed eyes, an uncertainty you don’t see flickers across his pupils and fractures the disciplined facade of his character.

He’s pushing you away, and for once he feels hesitant.

He’s forced you away timelessly, but you’re still looking at him, with that foolish soft look in your eye. And Dazai wants to smudge it off your features and chastise you for regarding him in such a tender manner.

He says nothing, but raises his hand once more, presenting it you.

The street is empty, nobody but Dazai present to witness how your eyes widen and your head tilts, confused.

Your emotions bleed out onto your face, staining the crease of your eyes with hurt, your lips pouting in trepidation.

And you hold his hand in yours, it’s stiff, it’s awkward, but it’s an unspoken viaduct into his psyche, your heart soars.

“Despite everything..I really don’t hate you, you know?” You’re speaking dangerously again, pulling him towards you despite his childish resilience towards trust.

His hand tightens, you’re sure of it this time.

“Ask me.” He mumbles, pulling you closer, your feet nudge his, your nose almost touching his shirt when you look up at him. “Ask me to kiss you.”

“Osamu-” His face is half encased with shadow, the glow from the street light failing to fully show him to you. You breathe and he feels it on his chin.

You don’t understand, your stuck in parallel to his contradictions, frantically scanning for the root of his intention, hands balling into fists when you can’t find it amongst the fog.

His hand comes up and tilts your head upwards, leaning down towards you, your nose touching his as you bite your tongue.

Time slows, and you whisper, it comes out meek.

“Kiss me, please.”

It’s instantaneous to your request. His bottom lip brushes against yours, and he’s on you like fire to oil.

His hand spreads out against your cold cheek, pulling you closer, his middle finger finding rest on the lobe of your ear.

He kisses you as if he wants to. As if he’s making a sick point to the man who had previously stolen your breath within the same night.

He breathes you in, and you breathe him out.

You want him to swallow you whole, right there and then on the side of the street, hidden away from the rest of the world.

You almost cry when he pulls away, eyes glistening as you look at him once more.

His spit is on your lip and you query, “Was that a-”

“It was a kiss.” He doesn’t let you finish, pushing his palm into your cheek, watching as you let your head move gently with the force.

Your unspoken question dies in the removal of his hand, and is reborn when he doesn’t not walk away immediately, hands stuck back in tattered pockets as he smiles, and for a second, a split second you see him as a boy, with fear breaching the walls of his eyes.

It vanishes instantly, disappearing with the climaxing waves behind you.

You try to recall the genuine look in you mind, try to pinpoint the vulnerability you had seen for a moment, but you lose sight of it as he claps his hands.

“Now, the night is still young my dear, I must be off.” His personified joy hits you like a raindrop hits a petal, and you stare, as if in a daze as he steps back, away from you.

“Oh- ok?” You grasp at anything to say, anything to reassure you that everything was ok.

He smiles, and nudges your arm, you can’t tell if he’s being himself anymore.

He going, and your left with the sickly sense of hope swimming in your chest, drowning amongst your spoken affections.

“Safe home!” He calls, his voice light, revealing nothing, and leaving you with less.

There was nobody in the world like Osamu Dazai, and perhaps that’s why you turned and began to walk home, alone.

masterlist <3

feel free to leave a request !

a/n: beep boop bop im tired- i hope this made sense, i just love the cruelty of dazais character <3 (can you tell) anyway reminder i love you and that you’re doing ok !!! ALSO shin nakatani was named using a random name generator i found on google and i think that’s very funny, my cat is sitting on my chest as i type this, it’s hard to write when you can’t move all that much :,)

#dazai x reader #bungo stray dogs dazai #bsd dazai #bsd manga #dazai osamu #dazai x reader comfort #hurt/comfort #dazai smut #i cry #i finished this hiding from my date in a bathroom stall

307 notes · View notes

hobiebrownismygod · 25 days

Text

Written in the Stars Pt. 2

Hobie Brown x SirenFem!Reader

Previous | Next

___________

"Over there!"

Hobie dodged out of sight, hiding behind a few empty crates as he waited for the police to run past him. The two badged men quickly walked around the corner, not even noticing the wicks poking out from behind the large boxes, a pair of eyes gazing at them from in between the cracks. Hobie waited for a few moments longer before appearing again, heading in the other direction.

He couldn't go back to his boat. Not yet.

It seemed like there were police at every corner, and he was unable to escape them and their batons. Osborne had been imposing a stricter curfew on the city, and officers were constantly patrolling the area where he usually kept his canal boat.

He knew if he got caught going back, the canal boat would be towed away, he'd be kicked out, and he would end up completely homeless. He refused to let that happen to him again.

That boat was his life. So he decided he'd wait as long as he needed to before it was safe to head back.

He made sure to stay in the darker alleys as he approached one of the many overpasses connecting one end of the city to the other, a bridge that hung tens of feet above the flowing water of the canal. He'd have to crash underneath it for the night. The police didn't care about the people sleeping under the bridge. They never did.

The darkness was eerily empty as he pulled himself down, shivering slightly in the cold as he pushed dirt around, cleaning up a small corner underneath the overpass. He gathered sticks to make a fire and tried his best to make the place as comfortable as he could.

As he hummed to himself, hoping to fall asleep quickly, he kept his eyes on the canal, water rushing down, waves crashing against the shore, just a few feet away from him.

He found the noise soothing, closing his eyes and tilting his head back as he listened to the chaotic, unpredictable rhythm. It was beautiful.

And then he heard it.

Four notes.

His eyes shot open and he swiveled his head around, searching for where the noise could have come from. He stood up, approaching the water and looking to the left, where the canal just began to connect to the ocean and a couple of large rocks stood in the distance, protruding out of the water.

Lying on one of them...was you.

The girl he saw just a few days back. Your head peeking out of the water at him, that pretty smile on your face. He wasn't sure who you were...he wasn't even sure if you were human.

But he just knew he had to grab your attention.

"Hey!" he shouted out, waving his arms at you like a madman, walking along the shore towards where you were. "Over here!"

Your head snapped towards where he was and you leaped off the rock, disappearing beneath the water.

His smile fell.

"Wait! Wait no come back!" he yelled, starting to jog over to the rocks, nearly slipping on the wet surface near the edge as he got on his knees and looked over. "Come back." he pleaded, searching beneath the waves.

For a moment...he thought he'd scared you away.

But then he saw your head poking out of the water again. His breath hitched in his throat as you slowly waded over to him, sleek arms pushing the water back as you swam.

"Hi." he said softly, afraid he might scare you. A moment of silence passed as you stared up at him and him at you. "Do you remember me?" he whispered.

You nodded. He grinned. "Really?" he leaned in a little closer, cocking his head to the side slightly. "I-uh, what are you?"

He watched as you copied him, cocking your head to the side as well. You giggled, eyes lighting up. "What am I?" You repeated, an endearing smile on your face.

He nodded. "You're...not human, are you?"

You shook your head no, eyes twinkling up at him.

"So...what are you?" he asked, eagerly leaning in a little more.

"I do not know what you humans call us...but we are known as Seireines."

He cocked his head to the side in response, thinking for a moment. "You mean a siren? You're a siren?"

You blinked. "If that is what you call us, I suppose that is what I am."

"Sirens aren't real" he said with a wide grin. "At least...I didn't believe they were. What're you doing in London?" he asked curiously.

"I...I'm not sure." You said softly, looking around as if you were noticing your surroundings for the first time. "I just remember swimming, as fast as I could, to get away." your voice sounded very far away as you spoke, recalling your last few memories.

"To get away from what?" he questioned curiously, sitting back and looking down at you.

Your eyes snapped back towards him. "To get away from you. Your people." You let out a shaky sigh, submerging your shoulders and bottom half of your neck under the water again, staring up at him sadly. Tears prickled the corners of your eyes. "The hunters. They were after us."

"Hey, hey, don't cry" he said, reaching his hand out and grabbing onto yours, pulling it out from under the water. "Why were they after you? What did they want?"

"We are different from them. They want to kill us, to study us. My people...my family...all taken. All gone."

His heart dropped as he watched you, tears streaming down your face. "Don't cry. Shh." he whispered, wiping your tears away and pulling you up a little out of the water. "Who are these hunters? What are they called? Do you know?"

You hesitated for a moment. "I remember them talking to their leader. They called him...

Kraven."

_______________

A/N

Sorry this is kind of short but part two!! I'm gonna turn this into an actual story probably so enjoy <3 Make sure to fill out the taglist form if you want to be tagged in the next ones, I've attached the link below!! Have a great rest of your week lovelies

Taglist: @therealloopylupin2099 @rinverse @l0starl @daydreaming-en-pointe @itsparis-07 @vileviale @puff-hugs @d0uble-tr0ubl3 @lauryn2558 @choccymilkdrinker @sunasslut69 @ask-1610-miles @ask-1610miles @axels-garden @eli21345 @miniaturesuitfox @spotconlon55 @riris-radioactive-panther @trash-panda-xoxo @0strawberrysorbet0

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normspellsman · 1 year

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To the Ends of Pandora

Alternative Ending to “Secret”

part one | part two

pairing: neteyam x fem!human!reader

genre: angst (at first), fluff, reunited at last, making up, & mentions of neteyam being a lovesick fool for the reader (as he should)

word count: 1k+

warning(s): talks of self isolation, suggestion of neytiri not approving relationship, talks/mentions of self deprecation, briefest mention of the thought of sex (you’ll miss it if you blink), & neteyam crying (mentioned)

word bank: sa’nok — mother, sempul — father, tsmukan — brother, tsmuke(s) — sister(s), ikran — winged creature that the na’vi use for flying & hunting, yawntu — loved one; lover; beloved person, neteyamur — nickname / term of endearment for neteyam, oel ngati kameie — i see you, & great mother / eywa — goddess deity that the na’vi believe in

request details: “hello <3 aw, i loved your neteyam x reader angst, it was so good! i was wondering if you could write some fluff too, like maybe neteyam x human!reader getting their happy ending and grow old together or something :(”

note: this was requested by anon! i’ll make sure to link this post to their request after i publish it. thank you for requesting! i hope this what you had in mind & enjoyed :)

You had spent weeks upon weeks holed up in your room after the departure of the Sullys and the kidnapping of your dear friend, Spider.

Norm and Max had repeatedly tried to coax you out of it, offering you your favorite types of food or one of their shower times in hopes of getting you out of your room for once.

Nothing had worked. You stayed in your room for hours on end and never left the comfort of it, except to go to the bathroom but even then, it was barely a handful of steps away from your bed that you wouldn’t consider it to be leaving your room.

The argument you and Neteyam had before he left had impacted you, severely.

It was hard to look back on the memories you two made during the short amount of time you were together. Even though he hurt you and broken your trust, you still found yourself yearning for him and wanting to forgive him for what he did. Neteyam wouldn’t keep just anything away from you. He had to have a good reason.

The letter he left at the foot of your door had explained everything to you, but you hadn’t read it until weeks after the Sully family left the Omatikaya clan.

Once you gathered enough strength to pull yourself out of bed and actually read the messy handwriting on the piece of paper, you began to cry but even then, you wasted all your tears during and after your argument with Neteyam. Your tear ducts could no longer produce any of the watery substance that you desperately craved to run down your cheeks.

You felt empty after reading it. You felt as if your world stopped on its axis and everything stood still.

He tried so hard to accurately portray how he felt about you. How much he loved you. How hard it was for him to keep the secret from you. How hard it was to hide you from his loved ones. How he didn’t care that you couldn’t make tshaleyu with him or even bare him children. How all he needed was you and that would be enough for all his lifetimes.

You were the only one that he could see and you let him walk away without saying goodbye. Without touching him last one time. Without kissing his soft lips one last time.

You wished you had just sucked up your pride and hurt and opened the door when he pleaded for you to the day he left.

What would’ve changed? What would’ve happened? Would he have stayed? Would you have gone with him? Did his parents know about your relationship? What would Neytiri think of it? Of you?

So many questions ran through your head during your weeks of self isolation and even after. It hurt to know that Neteyam was out there and you had no idea how he was doing or even what he was doing.

Did he find another? Someone who was actually Na’vi and a suitable partner for him?

No. It wouldn’t have made sense if he did. His letter was proof that you were going to be the only one he’d ever love the way that he did. So deep. So unique from the other types of love he experienced within his life.

Neteyam only ever experienced familial love. That kind of love he had with his Sa’nok, Sempul, Tsmukan, Tsmukes, Grandmother, and even Spider and the other human scientists that were allowed to stay on Pandora.

But the love he experienced with you was different. He experienced it more intensely. Neteyam often found himself thinking about you in the ways only a significant other should. Of how soft your lips felt. Of how your soft, delicate hand felt in his large rough ones. Of what it felt like to have your hands run through his braids and lightly pull at them. Of how it felt to have his head in between your legs as you called out his name in pleasure. Of how it would feel to have your chapped lips on different parts of his skin. His thoughts consumed him wholly. All he wanted was you and it will only ever be you.

You experienced the same thing as Neteyam. You could feel how deep your love and affections ran for him. It consumed your whole being.

That’s why when you saw the familiar earthy colors of a certain ikran, your whole world began to turn on its axis again after being still for so long.

The whole ground seemed to shake upon the arrival of Neteyam, him quickly dismounting his soul companion before rushing up to the lab doors and repeatedly knocking on the cold metal doors.

Neteyam would’ve never thought he’d miss the sight of the humans lab. He was never too fond of it even after getting together with you, but it was your home so it was going to be his too.

Butterflies swarmed within the teen boys stomach as he, not so patiently, waited for you to open the door so he could gather you into his arms and hold you close and tight to his chest as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear and kissed whatever exposed skin he could. He couldn’t wait.

After spending months away from you and nearly dying at the hands of Quaritch’s soldiers that one fateful night, Neteyam had found a new vigor within himself to come back to you.

Shortly after his recovery, Neteyam had told both of his parents of his affections for you and how much he loved and cared for you. Jake had already had a suspicion, catching early on to his sons frequent sneaking out escapades. Neytiri was furious at first. How could he love someone of a different species? The ones that put his home and own species in so much danger and through so much grief? But, then again, Jake was human at one point and his soul always will be one. She too fell for a human at his age. Her anger towards her son, and ultimately you, faded away once she saw that look of pure love and adoration on his face when he talked about you. She couldn’t deny him of that. So, she bit her tongue and kept her thoughts to herself.

Both Neytiri and Jake had decided to allow Neteyam to leave a day earlier than the rest of the Sully family regarding their return to the Omatikaya. It wasn’t a permanent move, at least for now, so they still had the potential to go back to Awa’atlu. It was just a visit.

You would have forgotten your mask if it wasn’t for Max throwing one your way before you opened the only barrier that separated you and your lover.

Once you had secured the mask onto your face and waited a few seconds for it to begin working, you ripped open the door with as much strength you could muster, a huge smile on your face as you did so.

Neteyam didn’t hesitate to bring you into his arms and spin you around, yelling out in joy once he had you in his embrace after so long. You squealed out in delight as he gently spun the both of you around, your arms tightening around the expanse of his neck.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he exclaimed, burying his face into the crook of your neck to inhale your scent that he dearly missed, “I’m so sorry. I love you. I love you. I love you”.

He kept repeating the phrase against your skin until it finally settled into both of your brains.

He truly was sorry for hurting you the way he did. He should’ve never kept that big of a secret from you. Should’ve never kept you a secret.

“I’m so sorry for everything, yawntu,” Neteyam croaks out, fresh tears running down his face as he kneeled onto the ground with you still in his arms.

He wanted you to know that he was sorry. That he regretted what he did, but didn’t regret you or what you did together.

“I love you so much. I understand if you no longer feel the same. I know I wouldn’t if I were in your shoes. But I need you to know that I do,” he continued, rubbing the side of his face into your hair as you sat perched on his lap, raking your fingers through his braids.

You shook your head, pulling away from the blue boy.

Of course you still loved him. You wouldn’t be in his arms if you didn’t.

“Neteyamur,” you started, delicate hands resting against your lover's damp and tear stained cheeks, heart wrenching at the sight, “I love you. Oel ngati kameie. Always. I understand why you kept me a secret and why you did what you did. I still love you, even after.”.

Your words struck a chord in Neteyam’s heart strings. He for sure thought that you’d still hate him for what happened. Hearing those words come out of your mouth made Neteyam fall even deeper in love with you, if that was even possible.

“Oel ngati kameie, yawntu,” he whispered in response, forehead resting against the glass of your mask.

You smiled in return and stroked Neteyam’s soft and damp cheeks gently with your thumbs.

Everything in your world felt complete again. No matter what happened in your relationship or where it’d lead you, both of you knew that you’d follow each other to the ends of Pandora in a heartbeat. Nothing could stand in the way of your love. Not even the two of you.

After the events occurred, Neteyam had, yet again, proclaimed his love to you underneath the Tree of Souls and made you his once again, but for all to know.

Years passed and the both of you lived long, healthy lives together, only leaving each other once the Great Mother called for the both of you to return to her warm embrace. Even then, you spent every second of your shared afterlife in each other’s arms.

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deartouya · 1 year

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A LATE VALENTINE'S — LUCIFER

✶ summary: when everyone in the house of lamentation turns up with a letter and flower in their room and despite his insistence, it bothers lucifer that he didn't get one—or maybe he will.

✶ pairing: lucifer x gn!reader

✶ word count: 1k

✶ warnings: fluff, lucifer is tired and also very soft-hearted and deserves the very best, platonic love letters :)) + confession via letter, after valentine's valentine's fluff

Lucifer had never been a fan of gifts. They always seemed expecting, expected—insincere. Luckily for him, beside the rare assortment of upscale teas from Barbatos or new set of luxury pens from Diavolo, he rarely received them. His brothers had never been the gift giving type.

So he shouldn’t have been surprised when he didn’t get a letter.

He’s the head of the house—the eldest, the strongest, always seen as emotionless and cold—and nothing else. A position he leaned into readily; one of authority, never a friend or even an acquaintance.

As softened as he’d become since you’d first arrived in the Devildom, he was still Lucifer. Groups scattered in the halls, quieted at his presence, conversations were kept humorless and cordial. He’d gotten used to it, found comfort in it even—it’d been that way for millennia. It made his job leaps and bounds easier, giving him the air of respect no matter how little he tried.

Yet despite his refusal to admit it, the hurt has festered—a stinging in his chest worsened by each new letter, the way his brothers boasted and flaunted them. It hadn’t been much of a mystery who had left them—a select few had access to the House of Lamentation, even fewer who had access to both the house and human world flowers. It didn’t help that your handwriting was so painfully recognizable. Mammon had been, predictably, the most troublesome over his lack of valentine—flaunting his own letter and cluster of buttery white daisies. He’d kept at the bragging until Lucifer finally retreated to his study to find that too empty.

He thinks it hurt more because it was you—you’d taken special attention to him since your return; sliced fruits arranged in flowers and smiley faces when you knew he hadn’t eaten all day, tea instead of coffee when he was working far too late for your liking, quiet company under the guise of studying even if you both knew neither of you did much work. He hadn’t even known he’d been expecting something, but he had despite himself.

A knock pulled him away from the report—the one he’d been attempting to finish since he’d first sat down to work. Only one person in the House of Lamentation had the decency to knock, “come in.”

He attempted to look nonchalant—rarely ungloved hands folded in front of him, thumbs pinned in an attempt to stifle his nervous shuffling—but couldn’t quite fight the warmth you brought him. You looked timid, hands hiding something behind you and cheek caught between your teeth, “are you busy?”

It’s endearing that you ask, as if he hasn’t put off finishing incredibly important paperwork to spend time with you before, “not particularly. Is there something you need?” His voice is warm, soft in the way it only ever is when around you—particularly quiet and tender.

It seems to do a little to soothe your nerves, your shoulders dropping just a bit even as you adjust whatever you were holding behind you and a conspiratorial smile crossing your face, “I have something for you.”

Lucifer loathed the way his entire body perked, embarrassment creeping up his neck at his own eagerness. It felt childish, you hadn’t even said what it was—it could be anything, a muffin since you noticed he’d skipped breakfast, one of the little chocolates Diavolo had given you for Valentine’s, or a flower—weed, really, but he didn’t have the heart to tell you—you’d picked up as you often did—but he was excited.

You showed what you had then, a gaudily decorated card—thick construction paper covered in glittery hearts and swirling red letters in what was unmistakably your own penmanship—and a rose from the human world, smooth and rich maroon petals pooling over your hand and apparently dethorned. He loved them already. “I assume you heard about the valentines I left the others.”

“I did.” Lucifer hoped he came across even a sliver of disinterest, that the heat he felt in his cheeks hadn’t really broken through and his smile wasn’t too foolish. He had a feeling he wasn’t doing a very good job. “My brothers seemed to enjoy them, I think Asmo changed vases for the rose you gave him six times now—he hasn’t found one “glamourous” enough to hold it.”

It makes you smile and he feels an unabashed pride bloom at the sight, so warm that he’s worried he might catch flame, “I though it’d be nice—I know the devildom doesn’t really do Valentine’s day and I wasn’t able to get the flowers in time anyways but, I thought they’d all still appreciate the gesture.”

Your nerves were back, fingers fidgeting with the edge of the card and picking at the roses’ stem, “I wanted to give you yours, though.” Lucifer knows his face is flushed now, possessed with the overwhelming urge to cover his heated cheeks. Your hands shook as you presented him with the card, rose tucked neatly inside it. The petals were soft, buttery and smooth and brought the grin he’d been so desperate to repress to his lips, “I wanted to make sure you got it.”

Glitter showered over the documents he’d been working on even before he’d opened the card, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Too enamored with your neat and practiced calligraphy, consumed with the thought of how many tries it'd taken you, the thought that you wanted his to be perfect.

“Happy Valentine’s day, Lucifer.” You’re still jittery, even if you seem relieved, “or—well—late Valentine’s day.” You only seem to grow more nervous when he finally opens it, toying with your fingers and chewing at your lip.

The inside of the valentine was as carefully made as the cover, written in pink pen and decorated with foam sticker hearts. The warmth in his chest bloomed. ‘You give my heart peace over and over again :P !! I’m lucky to have gotten to know someone like you, Happy Valentine’s day, Luci’. It wasn’t anything flashy or particularly striking, surely he’d gotten more poetic and well-crafted letters slipped into his bag and locker at RAD—but it was you. A paper heart slipped from his place pinned beneath his thumb featuring a much shorter note in a much cruder and hurried hand, ‘dinner at Ristorante Six whenever you’re free?’

Lucifer let the giddiness—no matter how childish—bubble up, let himself smile as he hurriedly rises, reports and glitter covered paperwork forgotten, nearly knocking a lamp from the corner in his haste. He takes a moment to attempt and compose himself, watching as a slow smile pulls at your lips and your nerves ebb into a knowing giddiness.

“It doesn’t have to be dinner,” he’s smiling in a way that feels so unlike himself, bright and soft and overwhelming, “I’m free right now if you are.”

#obey me x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer x you #lucifer fluff #obey me fluff #obey me headcanons #om x reader #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer fluff #✶ writes #✶ writes.om!#✶ writes.lucifer #lucifer oneshot #obey me oneshot

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