#one being that he enjoys a good mope sometimes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spdrvyn · 4 months

Note

miguel and his sunshine human gf that loves to annoy the shit out of him and sometimes in order to stop her/calm her down he has to put her in an air jail 🤭

ardor and annoyance

miguel and reader who's a bundle of energy and joy. having to tame your late night rituals is no easy task, but it's one that he's always willing to take. what's more important than having your dear lover in bed with you?

pure fluff. reader can be seen as either civilian/spider. is it really one of my fics if i don't write about how much miguel hates himself even by just a little bit

dividers by @cafekitsune

What Miguel learned from being a leader, setting an example, being his mother's son, and serving as a hero was patience.

It was a value that he had slipped up on from time to time, more often with himself. If he ever found himself at wit's end with someone else, he would mope until it passed or wait to get some precious alone time and healthily expresses his emotions by making a mess of his quarters and breaking down until he'd get tired and just sleep it off, restarting this precious cycle.

Eventually though, he had begun to no longer exhaust himself by getting angry. Unless the entire multiverse was at stake (ahem), then he'd have to spring into action. But his main priority now is to fix the problem, get it over with, rinse, and repeat.

When you entered his life, he realized that there was more to his ridiculous routines, more than his self-destructive attitudes, and that true patience came with love and caring as well. Obviously, he's light years away from being content with himself, but you redirect him, navigating through when that dastardly cycle repeats, so that you can wash it away and make him anew.

Miguel isn't the only one that has his layers peeled back though, there's so much that he notices about you. That composed and mature persona that you set up for yourself, that has built good albeit only professional connections with the other spiders eases its way into a bubbly and joyful demeanor whenever you're around him.

It almost didn't make sense, Miguel just seemed like the kind of guy to not want to do that with, to not want to relax around. He couldn't even relax on his own, the thought that anyone could feel comfortable in their own skin around him was shoved into the back of his mind. That connection that he so painfully needs is put aside for prioritizing the safety of everyone everywhere else.

Your true nature is infectious, to his dismay. It's too difficult to avoid the care that you're so insistant on giving him, it started with working overtime, to enjoying working overtime, to going over to Miguel's place for work purposes, to going over to Miguel's place for non-work purposes to kissing him for the first time, and now you're dating.

The catch with Miguel having let loose around him was that all that conserved energy circulated around his apartment, whenever he got home from another long day at the Society, he'd climb into you doing five different things all at once. Reading, watching a show, watching a baking show, baking a cake, and texting.

It was hectic, nothing that he couldn't handle, but how you're not on the verge of collapsing probably deep into the trenches of the night concerned him. For slightly more selfish reasons, Miguel doesn't like not having you in bed with him. This wasn't as extreme as the missions he took up at work, but it was a mission nonetheless.

You're... Busy, Miguel doesn't know what with. He sees yarn, he sees cookie dough, he sees a laptop, tablet, phone, and headphones, and so many other trinkets that are buried under the pile that you've built on the kitchen counter. Your focus shifts between each individual station, and Miguel shifts closer and closer to you quietly.

You're occupied on the laptop, occasionally looking at the stove while you're doing so. Then returning to your yarn and now knitting needles? Before mixing the cookie dough even more and even liking the mixture off of the spoon, humming to yourself contently.

You don't even notice that Miguel is right behind you, until he secures you against his front and lifts you up with a squeal.

"Miguel!" You whine, squirming against his solid arms. Your feet swing in the air and you try to push his hands away from your midsection, but there's no use in trying to free yourself when it's with him anyway.

"Go to sleep. No más tonterías, cariño." His voice is fogged by sleep, as his grasp on you tightens. You turn slightly with what little space that you have and you can see his slumber muddled stature. Tousled hair, relaxed expression, eyes half-lidded, and he raises a brow at your staring. "What?"

"Nothing," you sigh, "I'll go to sleep, you just have to let me go."

Miguel shakes his head, rocking your swinging body from side to sidet to go along with it as well. "No, I don't trust you." There's a humorous fry to it, you accentuate the pout on your lips, and he laughs.

It takes a little while for you to convince him to put you down, you can't say this is the most uncomfortable position for you. Whenever you're around Miguel, you always wind up in his arms one way or another, but this time that principle is just being used against you. The conversation shifts, less about your captivity, more about Miguel's day, your day, anything new outside, anything new in Spider Society. The position you're in, the silky nature in his voice, it gets you groggy and Miguel can sense it.

He wins.

He handles you to the bed properly now, laying your once tireless form onto the comforter as he tucks you in. You don't even try objecting anymore, the stove is still on, the video on your laptop was probably still playing, and that knitting project will have to remain unfinished until tomorrow, but it was fine. You know that everything is fine when Miguel gets into bed with you, pressing his lips to the top of your head in one long kiss.

He wins this little dispute of yours, but you know that you've won at life knowing that your nights end like this, engulfed in his embrace, the sound of his breathing bringing you to a deep sleep as well.

544 notes · View notes

celenawrites · 11 months

Text

pretty when you cry

pairing - Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

word count - 2.4k

warnings - Ghost is a bit of a dick but he gets better, Reader is a bit of a crybaby here but it's just cuz she's very in tune with her emotions, Simon is emotionally constipated and cannot handle feelings, some fluff, heavy-ish (?) angst, open ending, etc.

Note - Kinda got tired of writing fluffy stuff all the time and my mental health is fraying atm, so I decided to (hopefully) hurt some folks with this little piece. Enjoy!

AO3 Version

Divider by @/firefly-graphics

You cry easy.

That's what Ghost thought of you when you first joined Task Force-141.

While he has always been skeptical of any new additions (often temporary) to the team he has come to love and trust after going through hell and back, Price was convinced that your impeccable record on stealth ops, your physical agility, and your skills as a sniper were much needed.

Reluctantly, Ghost silently accepts his Captain’s decision.

However, time and time again, your sensitive nature had him worried that you might prove to be a heavy liability to the team.

When you stub your toe against the leg of the table, you let out a few tears of frustration and pain, cursing everyone and their mothers while you hold your injured foot in the air as you comically jump around the kitchen, even though your lack of spatial awareness was to be blamed here. It is almost always a comical sight, Gaz rubbing your back in comfort while you curse and cry, failing to hide his amusement. Soap is not afraid to laugh at your face for it, while Price has this twinkle in his eye as he asks you to sit and eat something for breakfast.

Simon ignores the flutter in his stomach when you take a seat next to him on the table, your wet hair letting out wafts of jasmine - all for him to smell and keep to himself.

You cry when you accidentally let the door close on your pinky, dramatic hiccups leaving you as Soap ties up your little finger with white bandages, stroking your hair as he consoles you, "That's a brave lassie, yeah? You got this". (Soap has always been good with people, Simon notes.) Sometimes, Soap will be ‘kind enough’ to offer you to kiss your injuries better and you’d shove him, your face giving away the embarrassment and the humorous jest you feel around the demolition expert.

You weep uncontrollably when you watch Marley and Me with Gaz in the rec room. Price and Ghost had been passing by, discussing the aftermath of a mission they had just returned from when they heard loud sobs coming from the usually empty room. They peer in to find both of you huddled close in soft blankets, a bowl of popcorn propped up in your lap and a box of tissues in Gaz’s lap, as you munch on the buttery snack and cry over the adorable dog finally being put to rest. You lean into Gaz for comfort and Ghost wonders if you still smell of mud and caked blood like you did on the field.

Price decides to break up the party as he enters the room, clearing up his throat to grab the attention of his Sergeants. Your lip wobbles as he lightly scolds you, his brow laden with concern as he looks at you and tells you both to go get some much-needed rest. You pass him by as you leave the room, your hand being a feather’s touch away from his and he almost holds onto you. (He still has no idea why he almost reacted like that to you)

One time, Price had been sent to help Laswell out on a crucial mission and all you had accomplished during those three and a half weeks was mope around and wish your Captain were here. You’d be lying on the sofa in the common room and you’d whine to your companions. “I’m so bored. I miss Captain. I wish he was here”, you’d pout and Soap and Gaz would gang up on you, teasing you as they asked you whether you had some unresolved feelings for dear Price. (The idea of you coveting Price like a lover seemed ridiculous to him, really. You and the Captain? Not a chance)

And then there was that one time when you had to go on a solo mission (the first of you being on your own since you joined the task force, really) and when you had come back to him them, battered and bloodied and disheveled but still safe and sound and Price lets out a sigh of relief, his shoulders sagging as if all the weight of the world has disappeared now that you’re back home, back to your team (where you now rightfully belong). You rush to them, running as if you cannot close the distance between them fast enough, and Price hugs you with steady arms as he lets you cry into his shoulder, wetting his uniform as you all but sob in relief, leaning on your Captain for support as your legs turn like jelly, unable to support the weight of your weary body.

It must’ve been terrifying - being out there on the field, hostility and death surrounding you in all directions and the only person you could possibly rely on is yourself. Keeping yourself safe and sane as you navigate unknown terrain and fight off the monsters who wear the skins of humans and pollute the very Earth they have been raised on. Blood and gore and gunpowder clinging to you like a second skin as you pray to survive another night and make it back home safely. Back to your team.

Back to your kind captain, and sergeants you have befriended and a cold Lieutenant who sometimes fails to hide the care he carries for you in his brown eyes.

Price has a look of sympathy and understanding on his face as he drags you to the infirmary, even holding your trembling hand in his warm palm as you flinch at the sight of the large syringe needle and hiss in pain whenever the alcohol-soaked cotton is applied to your cuts. He soothes you with a gentle pat on your back, mindful of your treated injuries as he softly tells you to clean up and maybe get some much needed sleep, asking Gaz to supply you with something to eat before you doze off due to fatigue and the morphine still floating in your system.

Ghost found it annoying for the most part - sometimes snapping at you to "Shut up and focus" on bad days and while he’s still irked at the sentimentality you possess, something that he and his comrades have willingly allowed to wither and die in their souls, a small part of him - a part of him that still resembles who Simon was, a mimicry of the humanness he hasn’t felt in his dead soul for years, worried about you. Worried sick about you and your emotions and the lack of lid you have on it. Worried if he had been too harsh on you because he doesn’t do emotions, and clearly he is out of his depth when it comes to dealing with people, but especially when it comes to dealing with you.

He realizes he doesn’t mind you crying all that much.

You go out for drinks to celebrate your successful solo mission and you spend the time you had lost on the field with your teammates - you play billiards with Gaz against Soap and Ghost and lose sorely, and then you try out a peg of whiskey the Captain has ordered and Price laughs heartily as you sputter and whine as the drink burns your esophagus. You somehow convince Ghost to teach you how to throw darts and he tries to not lean into your warmth as he stands behind you, his gloved hand holding your wrist as he positions you and teaches you how to throw the wooden dart you hold between your smooth fingers, and tells you all he knows about making sure that the little thing hits the dartboard without fail.

Simon can smell your jasmine shampoo and your citrus perfume on you as he uses his hands to correct your posture. He can feel how soft and pliant you are under him, eager to obey and please him, and all he can think about is what it’d be like - being your confidante, being the voice of reason for you when you’re drowning in emotions, being a sturdy shoulder for you to cry on.

And he knows for a fact that you’d be all that and more in a heartbeat if he allowed you to.

You lean onto Simon for support, your head lolling onto his shoulder as he quietly guides you to your bedroom. You hum quietly as he carefully makes you lie down on your bed, removing your shoes for you and when you beg him to help you remove the little makeup you had applied for the night (Price blatantly ignoring the use of contraband because it’s you), he surprisingly complies. Years of applying camo paint on his face give him the needed experience around using micellar water and makeup wipes as he helps you prepare yourself for a night of mindless sleeping, which will be followed by a hangover in the morning plaguing almost all of them. (He swears he’ll force you to drink the ginger tea he’ll make, no matter how much you’d whine about it tasting ‘yucky’. He’d rather not have you hurling over everything like a cat with a persistent hairball stuck in its throat).

“I’m so happy”, you hum to yourself as Simon tilts your head up.

“Close your eyes, Sergeant”, he orders and you comply, feeling the soaked cotton pad rub against your eyelids as your Lieutenant removes your pink eye shadow. It’s a pretty color on you, Simon thinks but he never says it out loud.

You stay silent as he finishes up with your work, his calloused fingertips tilting and moving your head to look at any missed spots he might’ve overlooked in the dim bedroom light.

“All done”, he scruffs, getting up on his feet and he hears you call out to him as he leaves the room.

“What is it?” he asks, wishing to be in his warm bed on this cold night.

“Thank you, sir”, you say earnestly with your eyes shining with sincerity and an unrecognizable emotion.

Simon observes you - you lying on your bed in the clothes you wore to the bar, with most of your makeup removed and your eyes struggling to stay open as intoxication and tiredness tempt you to forget the world and sleep.

A moment too late, he asks you, “What are you thanking me for, rookie?”

Only to find you out cold.

He sighs, draping the thin blanket over your shivering body and leaving you alone in your room.

When you wake up the next day with a hangover headache, your makeup removed and your blanket draped over you tenderly, you make your way to the common kitchen and you ask your moody superior if he remembers anything from the night before - your hazy memory failing to cover the gaps in your memory.

He gruffly says out, “No” and then hands you a cup of ginger tea, looking at you intensely as he waits for you to whine about the bitter taste of the tea he’s made for you. Knowing it’s a lost fight, you let out an exasperated sigh and thank your Lieutenant for the hangover cure. He looks at you a beat too long before leaving you to your own devices, exiting the room, and going God knows where.

It takes him time, with all that he is and all that he has been through, to come to a new conclusion for his first impression of you. Steadily with time, Simon realizes that the reason you cry so easily is not because you're weak.

It’s because you’re brave.

Brave enough to express yourself and not fear rejection from others. Brave enough to show that you care, to show that you love life and people and everything life has to offer. Brave and kind and valiant in everything you do, Simon is almost jealous of your ability to be so open and free. He wonders what it would be like to let go and just allow himself to feel.

It’d probably drown him alive.

It might set him free.

He’d never get the chance to know though.

Now again, you sob as you put pressure on his abdomen wound as you talk to him with a wet, unstable voice, “Stay awake for me, Lt. We will all make it”. You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself more than him. (You need that reassurance more than him anyway).

He’s sluggish, the blood loss and pain makes it hard for him to focus on your blurry face and the skull mask on his face doesn’t help him either. He’s immobile, despite trying his level best to raise his hand up so that he can wipe away the stray tears on your cheeks. He parts his lips to tell you to please stop crying, to tell you how he’s not worth the worry, he’s not worthy of your tears - not when he has vehemently admonished you for them all this time.

But all he can do is let out a low moan of pain, his eyes rolling back in his head. He can hear your voice, can hear the worry and fear and panic as you call out to him, but everything is hard and he can hear you but comprehending your words is near impossible with the ringing in his ears and the whirring of the helicopter that came in to rescue him and his team. He’s aware of his teammates sitting beside him - he can imagine their solemn faces as they cope with the possibility of him succumbing to his wounds before they make it back to safety. But he focuses on you instead - sweet, radiant you who worries about everyone and everything; who wears her heart on her sleeve and still holds onto the hope that he will make it out of this ordeal alive, even though he can feel his life slipping away from him like the sands of time.

Each breath of his is labored, and Simon wishes for nothing more than to wipe away your tears or to maybe hold your soft self against his injured body, cradling you close to his heart as he vows to survive this for you. Only for you.

Through black spots and dryness, he blinks up to look at you and he has this realization, a moment of pure ‘Eureka!’ as he observes your worsened state of being.

You have never been prettier than this instant, crying over him and praying to any kind of deity who’d grant him the boon of life.

Satisfied with his discovery and suddenly extremely tired, he allows himself to close his eyes, letting the fatigue win and the last thing he sees is you crying for him to stay alive and fight.

The last thing he hears is your sobs as you beg someone, anyone to save your Lieutenant.

Note -

Title is thanks to the song 'Pretty When You Cry' by Lana Del Rey, although I wasn't actually listening to the song while writing this.

#call of duty #cod #cod:mw2 #simon riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty fluff #call of duty angst #simon ghost riley angst #simon ghost riley fluff #call of duty headcanons #char.simon ghost riley

1K notes · View notes

lemon-lime-limbo · 7 days

Text

𝖎𝖘 𝖎𝖙 𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖒𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖒𝖆𝖐𝖊𝖘 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖘𝖜𝖊𝖆𝖙? | 𝖆 𝖇𝖓𝖍𝖆 𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖙

pairing: katsuki bakugou x gn! reader

warnings: COLLEGE AU, reader does have a female roommate, reader is a nursing major, idk probably ooc bakugou ngl, soft! bakugou, bakugou has hyperhidrosis, possible tw for medical scenarios (no needles, just mentions of stuff like that), jirou and denki are dating teehee

genre: fluff

word count: 2.4k

note: i typed this so fast that my fingers started locking up LMAO anyway bakugou with hyperhidrosis is my guilty pleasure i love it so much and also can u tell i took medical classes... i tried to make it accessible but also flex my knowledge. enjoy!

When your professor told you about your upcoming project a few classes ago, you sighed in annoyance. You loved being a nursing major, and medical labs came easily to you. But those labs were always done with classmates, and your professor supposed you needed to work with fresh patients, ones you hadn’t gotten accustomed to. A valid suggestion, although it then tasked you with finding six willing participants. And as one can imagine, those were few and far between, and tracking down a sixth person was proving to be much more difficult than you had hoped.

You had already done the lab on your two neighbors you shared a kitchen with, your roommate, Kyoka Jirou, and also her boyfriend, Denki, who was just happy to be there. However, you were still one short. Denki offered to ask his friends to help, and although you were grateful, you couldn’t imagine any of them would be willing to be a test subject for a stranger, and you can’t say you would feel much differently in their position, so you declined. Of course, you could always fake it and just make up random data, but your professor was monitoring how many people you brought into the lab via a sign-in sheet, so you had to use real people.

After class, you went back to your dorm to mope about your future bad grade on your assignment. “Hey,” Kyoka said from her bed, back against the wall with her boyfriend’s head in her lap.

That was when you saw him. Slouched down in your twin-sized loft bed filled to the brim with stuffed animals was Denki’s hot blonde friend, Katsuki Bakugou. You had gotten only a few chances to speak to him at Denki’s dorm parties, but from what he told you, aside from his general lack of complaisance, Bakugou was a fun person to be around. Aggressive, but still good company, apparently. He was your party crush that would sometimes talk to you. You were too scared to ask for his number, and he always disappeared promptly after every party. But while he was there, his eyes never left you.

Today, he wore an oversized black hoodie, and his baggy black pants had multiple straps hanging from them. One leg dangled over the edge of your mattress, his clunky black boots on the floor by your desk, buried in the fur of your fluffy rug. He didn’t seem to notice you, his eyes glued to his phone screen with his other arm casually behind his head.

You were embarrassed, both by your messy side of the room, and by all the stuffed animals on your bed. He clearly didn’t care, however, squashing quite a few plushies under his body, their plastic eyes bulging out of fluffy sockets.

Dodging wads of clothes and cords from musical equipment, you made your way to your desk to set your backpack down, dodging his leg as you ducked under the loft bed. “You, um… You didn’t tell me we would have company…” you said to Kyoka, wishing you had dressed up a bit more for your previous class. You always expected her boyfriend to be over, but this was definitely a surprise. She knew you found him attractive, but you’re not sure she grasped the real gravity of the situation.

She laughed sheepishly. “Sorry… But I do have good news.”

“Go on.” You kicked off your own shoes onto your rug before trying to gather up some of the papers on your desk to help with the mess.

“Well, it took a bit of convincing, and a bit of bribery, but Denki found you a final person!” You turned to see her doing jazz-hands from her bed.

Your eyes widened. “You don’t mean-”

She nodded, a devious smile on her face. “You got it. Meet Denki’s friend from high school.” If you hadn’t been staring right at her in shock, you would have missed the wink she shot at you.

“Nice to see you,” you said after taking a moment to regain your composure, looking over the edge of your bed at him. He gave you a nod in acknowledgement, eyes snapping to yours and trailing downwards. You looked away awkwardly, feeling like a museum exhibit.

“I know you told me not to ask my friends,” Denki said, sitting up with a yawn. “But I couldn’t help myself.”

You wished you could be mad at him for going against your wishes, but you were just glad to finally be able to finish your project and to not have to scrounge campus for a semi-willing participant. Even though his choice of victim seemed to be a challenge to see how professional you can keep yourself. “Well, thank you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.” You leaned against one of the wooden posts of your bed frame. “I definitely owe you one!”

His eyes darted from yours nervously. “Let’s wait until after you do your thing to decide that…” Denki just hoped you wouldn’t kill him when you got back to your dorm. In fact, he was already running through ideas and excuses to not be there when you did get back.

“What do you mean?” You tilted your head with a suspicious squint.

An aggravated sigh drew your attention to your bed above you. “Where are we going for your little experiment?” Bakugou said.

You frowned at the thought of it being an experiment. While technically your project was science, as all nursing is, this assignment wasn’t anything more than gathering data and practicing your application of the techniques you learned. An experiment would entail a hypothesis and more focus on the science aspects. You almost made the clarification, but you lost your nerve when you looked at him again. “The lab is right by building B,” you said. “It’s open now, if you want to-”

“Fine.” He jumped off your bed before you could react and yanked his boots on. “Let’s go,” he grumbled, pulling harshly on the side zippers as you took a few seconds to process what had just occurred.

You hurried to put your own shoes on before he walked out the door, almost leaving you in the dust as you rushed to catch up to him after grabbing your backpack. Once outside, you were grateful you wore your jacket, the brisk air whipping around and stinging your cheeks as the sun went down. You walked next to each other, and you were determined to make this as transactional as possible, no matter what the heart threatening to erupt out of your ribs was saying. And it had very much to say, you found out. You didn't want to be presumptuous, and he was only supposed to help you with your assignment and be on his way, but it became increasingly difficult to keep the heat out of your face. You hardly noticed Bakugou’s soft jangling, the chains and straps on his pants rattling together, or the way his eyes occasionally fixed themselves on you, yours stuck down at the sidewalk under your feet.

Building B was the building closest to your dorm, to which you were extremely grateful. It only took a few minutes of awkward silence to get there. You fumbled to grab your keycard out of the pocket of your jeans, the beep of the machine echoing through the small alcove as you pressed your card against it.

The large glass doors slid open soundlessly and you walked in, the stuffy room between the next set of doors so insulated from any sounds all you could hear was your own breathing. Through the second set was the medical lab, the large panels of windows casting a sunset glow over the equipment that had been left out. Community lab coats hung on a hook by the door. Several small doors lined the circular room, each door leading to a separate room for practicing medical exams. The sign-up sheet for your class was posted on a clipboard on the countertop beside a sink.

Boxes of latex-free rubber gloves were lined up on the central counter, next to piles of stethoscopes and blood-pressure cuffs. As you signed in on the clipboard, writing your name and Bakugou’s in one of the tiny boxes, he wandered the lab, picking up random things and putting them back down after turning them in his hands a few times. You were grateful for the spray bottles of alcohol scattered about the room and in every smaller office, which you sprayed on the equipment you chose.

“Okay. Let’s see…” you said before scanning the small rooms, peeking into each one to check for other students. All of them were deserted, so you chose a random one, Bakugou following you inside. A table and a small chair were the only things in the room, aside from the counter and sink. “All I have to do is take your blood pressure and we’ll be done!” You set your backpack down and pulled out your lab sheet.

He rolled his eyes with a scoff. “You brought me all the way here, just for this?”

You nodded. “Yes. Now, please sit down.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, dumbass,” he said, but he sat down anyway, the wooden chair creaking under his weight.

Your back was to him as you put your stethoscope on, scanning your paper’s instructions. When you turned back around, your eyes immediately widened and your face went hot. “What, um… What are you doing?” you stammered. Bakugou was in the process of removing his sweatshirt, revealing a plain black tank top and a muscular frame you weren’t expecting, although you tried not to imagine what he looked like under his baggy clothes.

“What’s it look like? Can’t take my blood pressure with my sleeves in the way. I thought you, a nursing major, would’ve known that.” His snide tone and his condescending smirk made you embarrassed. Admittedly, you didn’t even think about it. It irritated you that he somehow did, and it irritated you even more that he was right. You tried not to stare, not at the way his blond hair stuck out in every direction, or the way his tank top stretched over his broad chest, or the way his hand lay relaxed in his lap, palm up and waiting for you to begin.

The velcro of the sphygmomanometer was loud in the small room as you peeled it open, nervously taking Bakugou’s arm to wrap it around the thick muscle. He was so attractive you couldn’t help but look away, busying yourself with finding the inflation bulb. From this distance, you could smell his cologne, strong and masculine, and it filled your lungs like dense smoke. You had to will yourself to stay focused, to prevent yourself from fainting where you stood. “Can you hold this for me?”

“Fine,” he said, and you placed the pressure gauge into his other hand. When your hands brushed, you took notice of how sweaty his palms were. You also noticed how he flinched slightly when you touched him. His breathing was even, but he looked at you intensely, like he had to think about each breath to keep himself alive. It was nerve-wracking being so close to him. So many times you tried to gain the confidence to talk to him, but you always chickened out as soon as you made eye contact across the room. Sometimes, he would talk to you first, but one of his friends always ruined the moment by begging him to do a keg-stand.

Staring straight at the gauge in his hand, you filled up the cuff, rapidly squeezing until it was thirty millimeters above resting. You pressed the stethoscope into the crook of his elbow, not noticing the beads of sweat on his skin, careful to keep your fingers off the back of the stethoscope bell.

When the heartbeat stopped, you slowly twisted the dial on the side to release a bit of air. The heartbeat resumed, and you mentally wrote down the number on the dial. It stopped again, so you released the rest of the air out of the cuff. Pulling your stethoscope out of your ears, you reached to remove the cuff, velcro ripping from itself. His eyes never left you, watching the way your hands moved to slide the cuff off.

“Can I ask you something?” you said, abruptly, fingers fiddling with the tubes of the sphygmomanometer as you took the gauge out of his hand. He shrugged. You turned to set your equipment on the counter and write your data on your paper. “Do I make you nervous?”

“What kinda stupid question is that?” he snickered.

You laughed nervously, eyes meeting his as you turned around. “Well, it’s just that… You’re really sweaty.”

His smug expression had never left so fast. His hands grabbed his hoodie, scrambling to pull it over his head with a muttered, “Shit…”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything!” You scrambled to fix your mistake, but the words had already left you.

Adjusting the hood of his hoodie, he avoided your gaze. He didn’t seem like the type to feel shame, but the expression on his face made you think otherwise. “Just forget it!”

You shook your head, suddenly feeling like an idiot. “I shouldn’t have pointed it out. I’m sorry.”

“I just… I forgot to take my medication today. I’ve got, uh… this condition…” He trailed off as you began gathering your equipment, going back into the main lab to clean it again with alcohol.

“Hyperhidrosis?”

He blinked a few times. “Yeah, how’d you-?”

“Nursing major,” you reminded him, placing your tools in their respective piles.

He rolled his eyes. “Ugh, whatever. Anyway, just don’t… Just don’t tell anybody, okay?”

You placed a hand over your heart. “Your secret is safe with me,” you swore. You looked around the lab for anything else you needed to take care of. “So anyway, what did Denki have to do to get you to help me?”

He looked at you, a self-satisfied grin on his face. “He told me you’d go out with me if I did.”

You froze. “He- He did what?” Oh, you were so going to kill him. Knowing him, he’d make himself scarce, but he couldn’t be hard to track down.

“So, how about it? I never do anything for free.” Bakugou walked backwards into the door, pushing it open for you.

You laughed. “As long as you promise to help me kill Denki afterwards.”

182 notes · View notes

houseofevanbuckley · 2 months

Text

I had some idea that made me sad last night, and I thought well, why not sharing it here

I’ve seen a lot of fics about the 118 giving the shovel talk to Tommy, and I was wondering what if they pushed too hard?

One is alright, especially from the family or the closest friends, but Tommy receives a visit from each and everyone.

And he welcomes it, takes it as part of the dating process, especially dating into the weirdness that can be the 118.

But it still gets to him, and then Hen and Chimney comes as well and that’s what struck him the most.

They knew him, and they knew how he was and they see how he is now, and he starts to worry. Because maybe they don’t mind having him around them, that they know and see his growth and it’s enough for them, but is it enough for their little brother? For the 118’s baby?

And it makes some doubt grow and fester in his mind. What if he isn’t? Would all these people come to him like that if he was good for Buck? If he was enough?

And he likes Buck so much already, so so much. But maybe, maybe their first date was a sign.

Maybe he should let go of that sun, that is Evan Buckley

And he cancels one of their date, and goes to the one after, but he’s distracted, looking at Buck and seeing if he’s really happy to be here. Except maybe his own attitude is having Buck worried as well and he frowns a little, but he still enjoys the date. They still have a good time.

But that fucking doubt, you know? And he cancels the next date. And another one.

He does run to the 118 when Buck is injured. He can’t even imagine staying away, coming in and checking on that sweet sweet man.

But Buck told the others about the 3 canceled dates and maybe Hen or Eddie make a little remark about it which fuel even more his spiraling mind.

They text a lot still, but it’s still a lot less. It’s not that visible at first, going from 100 texts a day to 90, to 80. It’s a lot more visible when it’s halved, though.

Tommy mopping at the 217, refraining himself from going all in like he wants, like he’s been fucking craving since that first date.

And Lucy fucking snaps. She knows how intense the 118 is, how they can sometimes close rank around one of them and maybe close a little too much, so she decides to visit them and have a few words with them.

Buck who sees it, who hears Lucy talking to them, telling them to fucking ease on the peer pressure, on the expectations, to let Buck&Tommy breath and the 118 wincing because yeah, they may have been a bit heavy-handed with the shovel talks.

Buck who knows his family, and knows that yeah it comes from the heart but their intensity can be off the charts so he leaves with Lucy to go to the 217 and have a talk with Tommy who’s still moping and so distraught until Buck comes up behind him and hug him.

And they talk, they talk for hours, about the shovel talks yes, but also about what it brought back, about past Tommy and his doubts. His fucking doubts that he’s going to taint Buck in some ways and the fear that goes with it, the fear of hurting such a sunny guy and how Tommy would rather hurt them both now with a simple break up even if it’d break his heart than risking to change Buck.

And Buck can’t have that, seeing this strong man being so worried, so vulnerable in front of him, and he kisses him to shut him up. Something that he knows Tommy likes to do to him, and now he absolutely sees why when he sees the little daze look on Tommy’s face.

And they talk some more, and more until they finally, finally, hug it out once it’s all out, once the silent tears finally get out of Tommy’s eyes and taking his worries with them.

They end up at Buck’s loft where they spend the night cuddling and talking, both calling off work the next day when they realize that they talked until 5am and neither of them can handle a shift.

They spend the day in bed around each-other.

#bucktommy #evan buckley #evan buck buckely #tommy kinard #buck x tommy #tommy x buck #911 abc #tevan #evan buck buckley #buck and tommy #rambling #just thinking about that big guy being full of feelings #he may be older but he’s still just a guy and doubts are the fucking worst #evan x tommy #tommybuck #kinley #kinkley

102 notes · View notes

avocado-writing · 7 months

Note

Hello! Today is my birthday (well, in one hour it will be) and I was wondering if you could write a story with Crowley and Aziraphale with reader perhaps set in the tltdatsib series/world where it’s like the past sometime (whenever you’d like) and maybe Aziraphale (or Crowley) gets jealous that reader is paying more attention to the other and angst to fluff perhaps with makeup sex? Thank you! New to the fandom and love your work!

notes: I’m certain it was your birthday like two months ago by this point but uhhhhh enjoy!

pairing: aziraphale x reader x crowley (tltdatsib-verse)

rating: E

Crowley is jealous.

He thinks he’s doing a pretty good job at conveying it: huffing, sitting down heavily, crossing his arms (though definitely not pouting) but you and Aziraphale haven’t picked up on it.

For the amount of time you’ve been together, sometimes it does end up that two of you will spend more time together than all three. He’s had countless times when he’s headed off with Aziraphale around the world for work reasons, and he can firmly remember some stints in the seventies when the two of you hit the road to follow your favourite bands on tour.

Still, though. He doesn’t like it when it happens to him.

You and Aziraphale have been going to night time classes. He’s not quite sure what classes, neither of you have let that slip, but what it has meant is that you and the angel have been around each other incessantly. Together. He feels a bit elbowed out of it all, like the two of you have some little secret to giggle over.

Crowley swirls his wine in his glass and mopes a bit before swallowing it down, harrumphing quietly to himself as he hears the two of you open the door to the shop and walk in laughing. Probably at some private joke that he won’t be privy to.

“And I was just— oh, hello, Crowley. Why are you sitting in the dark, my love?”

He looks over to you and notices for the first time that he’s not bothered to put the lights on. He flinches as Aziraphale hits the light switch and the bookshop is bathed in a warm glow. The two of you carry on as if nothing is amiss; Aziraphale puts the kettle on, you hang up the coats.

“Have you just been there since we left?” you asked, concern creeping into your voice. Crowley takes another quaff.

“Maybe. Not sure why you’d care.”

He sniffs loudly and out of the corner of his eye he can see your confusion.

“Love, what’s the matter?” you ask, crossing your arms, fully in no-nonsense mode. Aziraphale pokes his head out of the kitchen.

“Is something happening?”

You gesture for him to follow you. The kettle sings and turns off, ignored, and the two of you plonk down on the sofa either side of Crowley.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, gently but firmly, laying your hand on his knee.

“Well, maybe you’d know if you weren’t constantly disappearing off to your evening classes without me…” he knows he sounds petulant but honestly he sort of doesn’t care. He enjoys being petulant sometimes.

“Oh, Crowley,” you say softly, “we didn’t think you’d want to come, my darling.”

“I don’t want to come!” he snips, then deflates a little, putting down his wine, “But I would have done it if you asked.”

You and Aziraphale exchange a look. Ah. There it is. You’ve been around long enough to know that misunderstandings happen when communication doesnt. Either side of Crowley, you both take one of his hands.

“Crowley, dear. We weren’t excluding you to be unkind. We just didn’t want you to come because… well…”

“Look. We’ve been going to swing dance classes. And we’re really bad at it,” you finish. Aziraphale shrugs and nods. Crowley furrows his brow.

“What?”

“We’re so utterly pants. We can’t swing dance to save our lives and we’ve been going for weeks now.”

“We’re getting better!” Aziraphale says, “We don’t stand on each other’s feet half as much any more. But truth be told we are the worst in the class by a large margin - and we don’t want you to watch us dance until we’re worth watching.”

“It’s pretty humiliating. We were hoping one day we’d be able to show you properly. We wanted you to be impressed.”

Oh god. Crowley feels awful. The two of you weren’t trying to exclude him, you just wanted to be good enough to show off. He groans and buries his face in his hands.

“I’m an idiot,” he sighs.

“Well…”

He shoots you a withering look, but ends up smiling.

“My dear, you have to tell us if something is bothering you. Neither of us would want that,” Aziraphale says.

“If you’re feeling neglected you just need to say, and I’m sure we can make it up to you…”

This is all the incentive Crowley needs to allow the two of you to begin to touch him.

You kiss him first, long and slow, before freeing his lips for Aziraphale. Crowley loves the slick slide of his husband’s tongue along his, the way the angel’s warm hand skims the plateau of skin revealed as his shirt is lifted up. You work your way down Crowley’s body and end up on your knees between his legs, your hands making light work of his jeans.

“Ahh, there we are,” you sigh, finding him half-hard and stroking him to his full length. You take a moment to inhale the musky scent of him before you touch your tongue to the tip of his cock, and he bucks as if you’ve run a thousand volts through him.

“Shit—!”

“Language,” Aziraphale mutters against his lips. The demon’s shirt is hitched higher, Aziraphale begins to run his thumb in a circle around the peak of his nipple.

“Such a lovely boy,” you hum as you press kisses down the length of his shaft. Crowley doesn’t identify as male necessarily, but he does enjoy hearing you call him a ‘lovely boy’. It makes him feel small and safe, adored.

He relaxes into the couch and lets you both take care of him. By the end of the evening, and several orgasms later, he can tell you’re both very sorry for making him feel ignored. But if this is the way you make it up to him, maybe he doesn’t mind too much…

tags: @angiestopit @foolishprincipalitee @smile-eywa @staygoldsquatchling02 @underratedboogeyman @specter-soltare @candlewitch-cryptic @cool-ontherun-world @emilynissangtr @willbedecided @bdffkierenwalker @cool-iguana @ilyatan @civil-groupie @willyoubethepookietomypookster @lxsm2 @clarina04 @wtfhasmy-lifecometo @mrgatotortuga @wereallbrokenangels @night-affiliate @silcosmoke @kimqueenofhell @chewbrry @bajablast23 @h3k3t @am-i-obsessed---maybe @bakerstreethound@a-mediocore-writer@darktealrat @chaospossum @belilwen @rex-ray @hunterispunk

#aziraphale x reader x crowley #crowley x reader x aziraphale #good omens x reader #ineffable husbands x reader #Request #fic: the light the dark and the spaces inbetween

226 notes · View notes

aerkame · 1 year

Note

Can we get a Wally x reader neighbor who has a secret identity of a supervillain?

You got it! I kind of wanted to experiment with this one a bit to get a good idea on how to write different characters. Some villains remind me of people that really only need love or family in their life. (This does not take place in the Alive AU, or previously created AUs) Also I hope you don't mind this having multiple parts with multiple characters x reader? It just seems like such a fun idea!

And just a reminder since some people PM me a lot on this, the Welcome Home archive is updated each time I post a fic or request so you can check there if you missed something or if you are wanting to re-read a fic, way better than just scrolling around looking for it! :) Welcome Home Archive

_________________________________________________________

Laughter echoed throughout the house you resided in, having just completed yet another devious plan of yours. Well, devious isn't exactly what most would call them, just very annoying or petty really.

A part of you did feel some guilt when you ruined the picnic everyone had planned that day though, using your new and improved weather device to summon up a storm. They all looked genuinely upset this time. Frank actually yelled at you with Eddie having to hold him back, something he's never really done before while everyone scattered to get their belongings.

Everyone looked so disappointed in you, even the motherly figure of Poppy looked at you with a saddened expression. It did sting a bit to see that. Maybe it was something special that was going on? Whatever. It was none of your business anyways...you didn't care, you were just glad you had the mask on still.

The thrill of successfully pulling off that plan soon dwindled down to a quiet sniffle, having stopped yourself from crying again...something you found yourself doing a lot of when you were alone in the house. You wish you could be friends with them too, it just felt like you didn't belong here sometimes though so you never approached any of the neighbors much unless you needed to get something or if a neighbor needed help. Of course you could just be a menace and not help at all and plot all day everyday. However, you preferred to keep your villainous self a secret and enjoy the small moments of kindness this place had to offer. Besides, your plots weren't that bad really, right?

Stars you were so lonely and hopelessly confused about your purpose here. Some days it felt great to be mean and some days, like today, you felt awful.

Deciding you needed to quit moping around, you made your way to the bathroom to dress up in your normal clothing and to wipe away any evidence of crying, only to jump back upon seeing a flash of eyes in the mirror. You blinked a few times no longer seeing them...this happened so often you think you're starting to get used to it, perhaps you were just imagining things when you got stressed. You continued with dressing and wiping your face dry, the last thing you needed was someone bringing too much attention to you. Besides, you still had to get some groceries from Howdy's today.

It was still heavily raining by the time you made it into Howdy's shop, you didn't mind though. Rain is what brought you comfort in this world, it was the only thing familiar to you having always let the water soak you and smelling the deep earthy smells that came with the cool air.

Hearing the small chime of the bell, Howdy made his way downstairs to get behind the counter expecting one of his friendly neighbors. Instead he found the welcome mat completely soaked under your shoes with mud trailing inside...oh dear, that was going to be a hassle to clean up.

You looked behind you at the floor upon seeing the small strain on the caterpillar's smile. "Oh...sorry about that, I can clean it up." your voice trailed into a mumble. You didn't feel like being mean in public and what happened earlier was already making you feel guilty. Really, you have never once seen everyone that upset before. You recall Wally staring, no, glaring with a stretched smile right at you before you ran off. A shudder ran through your body, both from the cold and recent memory. Howdy gave you a look before rounding the corner into his office.

"That's quite alright with me! If anything I'll take you cleaning up my shop as payment for today." You could hear Howdy's voice trail further into the office as you watched him come back out with something in one of his hands. It looked like a large cloth?

The caterpillar unfolded the cloth and came over to where you were standing, draping the soft blanket over your shoulders. One hand gave your head a pat. "So, I guess you're here for your usual right?" The hand on your head stayed. It felt nice.

"Yeah" You pulled the blanket into you. "Thanks for this..."

You know what? Nah, I'm making this into chapters I love this too much, there needs to be more.

Next chapter: Frank has been keeping track of the villain's actions and daily routine, more than you yourself have and he's more than willing to let Wally know who he thinks it is that's been causing trouble.

#welcome home #welcome home arg #wh #fanfiction #wally darling #my writing #wally darling x reader #welcome home wally darling #welcome home everyone x reader #everyone x reader #welcome home howdy pillar x reader #howdy pillar #wh howdy #villain reader

378 notes · View notes

therhythmafterthesummer · 11 months

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/therhythmafterthesummer/723756900577099776/i-dont-know-if-you-have-a-anon-or-not-but-id

Thinking about this….. if you done this…. would you share 🥹🥹 pretty please 🙏🥹

Always ready to read your any of works 🥹🥹

Hope you’re having a good day or have a good day

i gotchu, bb.

thanks for sending this ask. hope y'all enjoy !

Pairing: Werewolf!Chan x Human!F.Reader (one of the main pairings of my WereRoomies series. you don’t really need to read any other instalment to understand/enjoy this piece). | Word Count: ~2k | Themes & Warnings: fantasy/supernatural AU · smut · roommates to ??? | this piece takes place before these two got together · allusion to the reader being chubby · self-pleasure (both parties are getting off, but not engaging with each other) · voyeurism · improper use of supernatural abilities · Chris’ inner wolf won’t shut up · mentions and hints of: fingering, knotting, breeding, etc · Guilty & Moping Christopher · self-loathing

minors do not interact.

Chris would’ve never thought he’d be this weak. He was usually very good at ignoring this attraction he felt. A couple of months of you living here with him had practically trained him for it. However, a handful of nights a week, it was almost impossible to ignore.

He shouldn’t have been surprised, really. It was only natural that someone your age would indulge in one of the most primal needs an animal could have, and, of course, like a proper human, you had tools to deal with all that.

The first time it happened, he almost dropped dead right then and there. It took him a moment to notice back then. He was so sleepy he thought he might’ve been hearing things, but, after a few moments of that faint buzzing sound resonating through the walls, the first quiet moan gave it all away.

It was almost embarrassing how quickly he started to get hard the moment he realised you were a few steps away, getting off. Chris had covered his face and ears with his pillow in a desperate attempt to not hear. Having enhanced hearing didn’t make it okay to eavesdrop, especially not during such intimate circumstances.

That night, he had to stop his hands from moving multiple times. He refused to get off to the sound of your quiet whines, to the buzz of the toy… He refused to even start imagining the scene you’d be painting in your room. He tried to distract himself, watching cute videos on his phone, or putting his headset on to try and muffle the sounds travelling through your shared home.

He’d succeeded for the most part, but after you were… finished, he heard you going through the motions of leaving your room, going to the bathroom, and then back to your room… He needed to drink something, his mouth was dry and his senses were on edge, plus, a cold shower was more than needed, considering his traitorous cock just wouldn’t go soft.

He had to wait almost twenty minutes to leave his room, just in case you were still awake. Honestly, the moment he stepped out of his room and went into the bathroom, he was almost winded by the smell of your scent in the hall. It wasn’t your fault, it probably just lingered there from when you had walked through here earlier, but, God, it wasn’t helping his problem one bit…

Regardless, Chris had been able to keep himself in check that night. No boundaries were broken, and that was enough to ease his mind.

However, even if he’d succeeded, he wasn’t really prepared to deal with this on the regular.

Every night he heard the buzz, it was a night spent in agony. Sometimes he’d just stay in his room, headphones plugged in, playing a game on max volume. On other nights, it’d be so incredibly difficult to hold himself back from doing something he’d regret, so he’d just leave the flat altogether.

He’d go to Changbin’s, or Minho’s, or Jisung’s, or anyone’s, as long as he got to be away from you and your goddamn scent and the alluring sounds coming out of your room.

He should’ve known that this couldn’t last. Chris was bound to break, and the tortuous workday he’d had today, coupled with just how incredibly exhausted he was, seemed to have lowered his inhibitions enough for his hand to mindlessly find its way to his crotch as soon as he heard that godforsaken buzz.

“Oh, shit…” Chris mumbled under his breath, leaning his head back against the headboard of his bed.

What was he doing?

Well, he knew what he was doing, but why was he doing it?

Using his supernatural hearing for this was beyond creepy, immoral, you definitely didn’t deserve it. But, God, how could he not do it when you sounded just so… pretty?

He couldn’t think straight, not when sparks of pleasure were running up and down his spine with each stroke of his hand, not when he tightened his grip just right. If you were to have your hands on him, would you hold him like this? He’d be more than delighted to show you what he liked. He just knew that you’d be able to perfectly mimic the pressure that made him dizzy, that you’d work him up diligently, that your hands would feel a hundred times better than his did.

Chris could hear the faint buzz in the distance, the quiet whines and sighs, the muffled moans… He could picture it all in detail. You, sprawled on your bed–that bed he himself had laid on many, many times before… platonically–legs spread, a hand on your breast and the other holding a toy between your legs.

What toy were you using? Was it a dildo? A bullet? One of those trendy suction ones? He selfishly hoped it wasn’t a dildo. A dildo wouldn’t be enough for a girl like you, he was sure. His fingers would be much more suitable. He’d prep you so well, stuff you with as many of his digits as he could, touch you however you liked to be touched, using the bullet or the suction toy on your sensitive clit…

But he wasn’t there right now. You were on your own, playing with yourself and your toy. His mind really couldn’t decide on which one it would be, the mental image he had kept shifting between devices. The only thing that was a constant was the look on your face, all blissed-out, with your eyes closed and your mouth slightly agape.

Would you be teasing your nipples? Rolling them between your fingers? Pinching them? If you weren’t, he’d gladly do it for you. God, the soft flesh would just feel incredible in his hold, he just knew. The sight would surely be heavenly.

Lick, suck, fuck, perfect tits just for me…

After spitting in his hand, Chris brought it back to his aching cock, smearing the saliva all over himself before he tightened his grip and pumped. Oh, how he wished it was you. Your hands, your mouth, your cunt, or even your thighs… He’d take anything you were willing to give him, he just knew you’d look so, so gorgeous while you choked on him, while you took him in any and every single one of your holes…

His spit and the pre-cum spilling from his tip helped lubricate him, each stroke produced an obscene squelching sound that just joined the quiet sounds you were making in your room. The buzzing increased, your whines became more frequent, and Chris just sped up the motions of his hand in response.

What if he just barged out of his room and went straight to yours? Would you let him take you? There was a small, very idiotic part of him that believed you would. You’d open your legs further, let him settle his body between them, and plunge himself right in while he kissed you. You’d be so warm around his cock, tight while you adjusted to his size, he was simply salivating at the thought.

Perfect, perfect cunt that’ll take her alpha’s cock like it was made to… mine, for me, for my cock, for my knot… to be stuffed to the very brim with my pups…

Chris’ chest was vibrating slightly with his contained growls, the thought of kissing you, fucking you, claiming you, and scenting you in one of the most obscene ways possible had his instincts on edge. His inner wolf wanted you, of course he did. He was just another part of Chris, who was already absolutely crazy about you. Every single part of him knew just how well you’d take anything he gave you, how well you’d do for him.

His logical mind wouldn’t let him leave his bed, though. He’d risk too much by acting purely on his wolf’s instincts. Instead, he just sped his strokes, matching the rapid pace you seemed to have set for yourself. Was your toy at top speed? Or was there still more? He wanted to find out. He wanted to be the one to use it on you, to have you moan his name in his ear and squirm under him.

Just the mere thought of you saying his name got him so, so close. There was nothing more that he wanted right now than to have his pretty roommate crumbling in bliss, he just knew he could make you feel so incredibly good if you just gave him a chance.

Pleasure mate, satisfy mate, scent, mark as mine, mine, mine, mine, mine….

All of a sudden, the quietest of moans left your mouth, and you started gasping for air. He could practically smell your scent, floral, fresh, aroused, satisfied…

Oh, he was so doomed…

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” Chris mindlessly swore under his breath, speeding the movement of his hand, thrusting into his grip as the telltale signs of his orgasm clouded his senses.

Biting down hard on his bottom lip, he let his climax wash over him. His cum was warm, thick, and creamy since he hadn’t unloaded for days now. He had to make a conscious effort not to growl like the fucking horny dog he was while he got the expanse of his torso drenched in his release. It felt like he was coming for an eternity, and, by the time he had milked himself dry, all noise coming from your room had stopped completely.

Chris heaved a sigh, and his ears started ringing. This was just what he needed after such a long, strenuous day at work. He felt his frustrations quickly evaporate, replaced with the rush of endorphins only a good wank could release into his system. He laid there, panting, his head lolled to the side as the bliss of his orgasm relaxed his muscles, and for a moment, he felt like he was floating, even sleepy.

He was deep in bliss, light, satisfied…

But then, dread started to seep in.

“Oh, God, what’ve you done, you fucking idiot?” Chris reached for his discarded shorts on the floor and used them to clean up the mess he made. When was the last time he came this hard? There was so much cum…

What a waste…

“Shut the fuck up, dude”, he shook his head, like that would eliminate the thought.

How was he going to look you in the eyes tomorrow? You were his roommate. His female, very much human roommate that had trusted him enough to move in with him, and this was how he acted? By secretly listening in to you pleasuring yourself in the privacy of your own room? You had no idea what he was, that he was capable of doing this at all, so of course you would go ahead and make all the noise you wanted within those four walls. It was your right, but he had to go ahead and be disgusting about it. How could he do this?

His skeleton almost jumped out of his skin when he heard the door to your room open, only to hear the bathroom door closing a few seconds after.

Would you be just washing your hands? Or would you be washing your toys as well…?

Chris shook his head again. He had a serious problem…

With a sigh, he plopped on his bed, and decided to wait until you were done so he could go to the bathroom himself and clean up properly.

Squish, knead, hold tight… Must cuddle mate, make sure mate’s satisfied, happy…

He flicked himself on the forehead, right in the middle. He was capable of keeping his instincts in check, goddamn it. Why was his subconscious slipping like this?

As he laid there, staring at the ceiling, with the phantom of your scent lingering around him, he figured it was time to accept that he was incredibly attracted to you. Physically. Enough for him to become a desperate mess and lose his composure just at the thought of you masturbating a few metres away from him.

He knew, of course. He knew since the very first moment he saw you. But this was odd for him. Chris typically didn’t feel attracted to people in this way just out of nowhere. The fact that he’d known you for a couple of months already seemed to have made everything so much worse. You were nice, funny, kind, and, quite possibly, the most beautiful person he’d ever seen… He, very clearly, had a crush on you. What was he going to do about that?

When you finally retreated to your room, he didn’t dare leave his bed. The last thing he wanted was for you to start worrying about whether he’d heard you or not.

He heard you, alright, but you didn’t need to know that.

After twenty or so minutes, he finally made his way to the bathroom, and your scent still lingering in the room almost made his eyes roll to the back of his head.

Flowers… Fresh flowers… Mate’s scent…

While he cleaned himself up, Chris tried his best to ignore whatever instincts were running rampant deep inside him. His inner wolf was a horny idiot that was making him do stupid things whenever you were concerned. But, by association, that meant that he was a horny idiot who had just had a mindblowing orgasm thinking about his roommate. Thinking about you.

When he finally tucked himself back into bed, he couldn’t help but feel like he was the absolute worst person on earth. You didn’t deserve this, for the disgusting, horny werewolf you didn’t even know was a werewolf to be disrespecting you like this. He needed to do better.

But, God, why did you have to be so pretty? And so… his type? He was sure he didn’t have a type before he met you, but the more he had to be around you, the more he realised you were certainly his type.

Soft mate, squishy mate…

Sighing, Chris laid on his side and reached for one of the spare pillows on his bed. His senses were immediately flooded with your scent. That was when he remembered you’d laid your head here earlier today. No wonder he could smell your scent so vividly.

Your smile had been so big when you’d started talking to him about your day… The memory had his heart skipping a beat, and his stomach sank.

Hugging the pillow tight to his chest, he curled himself into a ball under the covers.

Kind mate, perfect mate…

Once again, Chris ignored whatever fuckery his instincts were trying to tell him. He reminded himself that you were his roommate, essentially a friend at this point, and as such, he was supposed to protect you and make you feel safe. It didn’t matter how pretty your moans were, how he wanted to get drowned in your scent… None of that justified what he’d just done. He couldn’t break your trust like this ever again.

Chris certainly needed to do better. So he swore he’d never ever do this again.

He just won’t do this again…

…Right?

Author's Note: aaahh, this was so much fun to write. ngl, i'm kinda tempted to write a drabble with this scenario again, but after our dearest, prettiest pack mum has already found out about Chris' condition... special thanks to @notastraykid for providing her valuable insight, opinions, and ideas💜

tagging everyone that wants to be tagged in my wereroomies instalments. if you don’t want to be tagged in little ask responses like these let me know ! If you want to be added to the tag list, you can fill in this form. be aware that you must have an indication that you’re an adult in your blog if you want me to tag you in my works

@comet-falls · @princelingperfect · @iadorethemskz · @kileidoscope · @maknae00 · @compersian · @dundullresident · @vitrealisbunny · @yeetfellx · @minnysproutgriffinteddy · @oiminho · @binchangf · @leedunno · @luxsonny · @shutupandstoptalking · @akimi-youngblood · @mamieishere · @straylightdream · @4kwp · @bintificreads · @seo--changbin

in purple: can't be tagged. if you see this, please check your visibility settings or i'll have to remove your user from the taglist, and won't be able to tag you in any future stories. if you've been removed and want to be re-added, you can either DM me or send the form again.

#stray kids supernatural au #stray kids fantasy AU #stray kids werewolf au #bang chan smut #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfiction #bang chan fanfiction #bang chan fic #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #werewolf chan #werewolf bang chan #✨🌙✏

327 notes · View notes

hoesplay · 1 year

Note

Good day~ could you do something for sae itoshi? i wonder how he will react to seeing his shy s/o dancing and having a concert around their shared house, just being the exact opposite of the shy type, and when he asks why they just go on saying that he might hate that side of them so that's why they act shy instead. I hope this didn't confuse you! thank you anyway!!

𝕀𝕥𝕠𝕤𝕙𝕚 𝕊𝕒𝕖 𝕩 𝕤𝕙𝕪! 𝕤/𝕠

𝘈𝘢𝘢𝘩 𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘢𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴, 𝘣𝘳𝘰’𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘐’𝘮 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘴.

𝘐 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘐 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺𝘦𝘥.

𝘐 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘸 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘐’𝘭𝘭 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯 :)

ｗｏｒｄ　ｃｏｕｎｔ：　１１５６ｇｅｎｒｅ：　ｆｌｕｆｆ　＋　ａ　ｌｉｔｔｌｅ　ａｎｇｓｔ

ｔｗ：ｍｉｓｓｃｏｍｕｎｉｃａｔｉｏｎ，ｃｕｒｓｉｎｇ

Sae is the picture-perfect guy anyone would dream of. With long eyelashes framing his piercing gaze, sharp jawline, athletic body and cold demeanor to match his beauty, he is on the highest pedestal: unreachable. How you got under his skin is still a mystery in your mind. Even though you moved in together, you still sometimes struggle with this dilemma. You have the tendency to refrain yourself, despite the effort you put in staying as genuine as possible. It’s never with bad intention, probably in your subconsciousness you feel the need to match to your boyfriend, and as long as he doesn’t complain, things should stay like this. Afterall, he chose you, right? His shy and tame girlfriend who is always so sweet to him.

You picked Thursday as your cleaning day. Usually, Sae has his hands full on that day of the week, so you don’t mind doing the household chores once a week. He is fantastic at football, but just as disastrous with a broom in his hands. Since you enjoy cleaning by yourself, you rid him of these responsibilities.

The sun shining through the window woke you up to a new day: a Thursday. You stretched in the empty bed, checking the time. Your boyfriend has a tight schedule that starts early in the morning with a run, followed by hours of practice. You have the whole day to yourself. With a skip in your step, you made your way to the bathroom to start the day. Throwing on his shirt after a refreshing shower, you did your morning routine before proceeding with the day’s chores. You turned on the speaker to put some music as background noise, turning it as loud as respectfully possible. Subconsciously, your started tapping your foot to the beat, gradually starting to sway you hips to the rhythm. Without realizing, you were soon holding an entire concert, arms gesticulating, lips following the lyrics religiously, using whatever you had in hand as a microphone. You didn’t care, who was here to watch anyway?

Holding the mop as your dance partner, you swiped the floor in sync with your moves. Spinning around, you dropped it in an instant with a panicked shriek as you saw who was witnessing your show out of nowhere.

“You’re early”, you said, trying to sound as composed as possible, which came out as a stutter. Sae was leaning on the doorframe, little smile on his face, studying your figure as you stood frozen as a deer caught in headlights. “Yeah, I’m free today, so I went for the morning run. I also went to the café down the street and bought you coffee. It’s still hot so be careful.”

You thank him, taking a sip out of the beverage, placing it down on the table to continue awkwardly moping the floor. You closed the music that was playing. “Why did you stop? Looked like you were having a good time.”, his sentence caught you by surprise. “What are your plans for today?”, you brushed off his question with one of your own. “I was hoping to spend the day home with you. If you want to go on a date though I don’t mind.”

You agreed to his plan, quickly finishing with the task at hand so you can enjoy your coffee. You took a sit next to him on the couch, beverage in hand, trying to rid yourself of the embarrassment that lingered. “Does it bother you that I’m here?”, the phrase took you by surprise, making you choke on the drink. After a few coughs, you managed to answer “Why would you think that? I should be the one asking that.”

Sae didn’t mean to sneak up on you back then. His curiosity got the best of him when he entered the house to the loud music. He was surprised to see you dancing around in his shirt while being preoccupied with chores. You were so in the moment you didn’t even notice him leaning on the doorframe, admiring your good energy. It made him feel giddy inside.

“You seemed to be enjoying yourself, but stopped when you noticed me. I never knew you had a side like this.”, the moment you heard his explanation, you started apologizing profusely, trying to find reason to your actions, as if you did something wrong. “This is a shit apology.”, his words hit you like a truck. Your shoulders slouched, eyes averting him. “Don’t make that face. You don’t need to explain anything, why are you even sorry in the first place?”, at your silence, he continued, “you know, sometimes I could see something was off, like you were trying to restrain yourself. I don’t understand why you would hide from me of all people.”

You let out a long sigh, finding the courage to give him an explanation. “The truth is, I am kinda scared. Not of you, of course, it’s just that… you’re so cool, and serious, I thought that you’d be displeased by my random bursts of energy. I know I can be annoying, you come home tired, and I really didn’t want to bother you.”, at this point, you didn’t know how to put your thoughts in words anymore.

“We’re not at that point in the relationship where you have a crush on me and want to be up to my standards. We’re sharing a house. Grow up, (y/n), we’re not in high school anymore.”, his blunt words brought tears in the corners of your eyes, that were threatening to spill. He took a moment, sighing.

“I don’t hate this side of you. Afterall, it’s part of you. To be honest, I enjoyed watching you vibe around the house. You looked like yourself the most.”, at his words, a tear rolled down your cheek in relief. You punched his side jokingly. “You should just say you love me, a**hole! What kind of pervert creeps up out of nowhere like this? Creep!!”, you said, earning a grumble from him.

You laughed at his displeasure. All your walls were down now, there was nothing to hide. “Let me join, then.”, he got up offering a hand for you to stand. Taking it, he pulled you close, swaying your bodies left and right. The moment was ridiculous, but with no music in the background, you hummed a phony rhythm out of context. You wanted to laugh at his clumsy moves, but your heart felt so full you just smiled, reaching up to place a kiss on his lips. “Thank you”, you mumbled against him, enjoying the moment. “What are you even thanking me for? Jeez, you’re so lukewarm.”

You bit his lip in protest, giving him a nasty look. You remembered those days in high-school, before you even dated, when he used to reject every confession he received. You don’t know how you got here, but it doesn’t bother you anymore. You’re working on it.

𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔! :)

#blue lock #blue lock fanart #blue lock fluff #blue lock angst #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #blue lock x y/n #sae itoshi #itoshi sae #itoshi sae fluff #itoshi sae angst #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi x you #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae x you #sae is blunt as always #ブルーロックfa

585 notes · View notes

annaizscribbling · 6 months

Text

In which the farmer is not quite human pt 4: Gus

(start at pt 1 here) also I'm posting these on ao3 gradually, but tumblr will still get them first aye.

Gus unlocked the front door to the saloon at exactly noon, just like he always did. He didn’t really expect somebody for a couple of hours, but sometimes a few folks will wander in for lunch or a midday refreshment. He doesn’t expect much on a random rainy Tuesday, but he’s consistent—an important trait in a business owner. He takes great pride in being dependently consistent.

He walked back to the bar counter and picked up a couple of glasses that needed to be polished. He kept everything perfectly spic and span, homey, and comfortable. It was important that the other townsfolk felt cozy in the saloon, that’s why Gus kept a bit of ragtag furniture, warm lights, and the scent of delicious food at all times.

And it worked! Friday nights especially were so busy that he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if not for Emily helping out part time. Robin and Demetrius usually play some nostalgic song and dance together, Shane hangs out by himself with a sparkling water these days, Pam sits by the bar and gets intoxicated while chatting with him, Mayor Lewis and Marnie flirt in the corner, Elliot and Leah share some wine, Willy orders himself something strong and indulges Clint, who just stares at Emily and mopes, Harvey gets and strong coffee and tiredly enjoys the show, Pierre escapes his family to get some scotch alone, Abigail claims her favorite couch to watch the weekly pool games, where Sam and Sebastian play until Sam gives up on trying to win a single match.

And sometimes, Sebastian’s wife tags along. Not always, she doesn’t come every week. Farming is a taxing job, Gus imagines, and she does a whole lot more than just farming, so it makes sense that she has less time than her househusband. She rarely showed up at all before they got married, and even then, she showed up solely to see Sebastian before sprinting out the door again.

Gus liked the farmer; she was a nice woman. She helped Gus out on more than one occasion when he was in a pinch, she was a great listener, a valuable customer, and a friendly, albeit unpredictable face. When she shows up on Friday nights, she usually hangs around her husband, watches them play pool, sits with Abigail, and then stares. She does a lot of staring, not usually at people or anything, but at the wall, or the ceiling, or the floor. It seems like she sees things that aren’t there, like she’s reading or browsing through sometimes. Most of Pelican town doesn’t question it, it’s just something she does.

Other Friday nights she seemed to be in a more excitable mood, which meant that she didn’t smile more or anything, but continuously paid for a variety of food from Gus then distributed them among at least half of the customers in the saloon. Salad for Leah, beer for Pam, spaghetti for Robin, pizza for Sam and Shane, coffee for Harvey, and whatever the special is for anybody who wants it. She was a very generous person, a little odd, but undeniably generous. She brought him a crate of oranges from her orange tree every time she had a good harvest, which he would thank her for by sending her and Sebastian something special for dinner.

Gus is interrupted from his thoughts when the door swings open.

Standing in the door way is one sopping wet farmer, who smiles at him as she drips all over his welcome mat. A cold draft breezes into the room, clashing against the warm saloon air. Gus pauses from polishing.

“Hey,” Gus says with a wry smile, “you look like you could use a beverage. And maybe a towel,” he tosses the rag he was using at her. Her arm shoots out without her glancing at it, and she snatches the rag out of the air like an instinct. He’s heard things about her skill in the mines, maybe the reflexes are a result of that.

“Sorry,” she says, dabbing some of the water off of her skin and wiping her feet on the mat politely. She’s still extremely damp, but not quite dripping wet anymore.

“It’s no issue, make yourself at home,” Gus said kindly, picking up another rag and gesturing with his chin at some of the bar stools. The farmer slid into a seat and picked up a menu, though any resident of Pelican Town knew exactly what was on it save the special.

“Thirsty?” Gus offered. “There’s nothing like a glass of dry red wine on a day like this, huh?” he chuckled, but raised his eyebrows, wondering if she’d be swayed into a drink. He knew she didn’t drink very much at all, but every so often she indulged herself.

Today, it did not seem to be the case. She shook her head and pointed at the menu with a shy smile.

“Oh, a pizza? Good choice, for here or to-go?” Gus asked, rolling up his sleeves.

“To-go, please,” she said politely.

Gus nodded, and began to walk toward the oven to put a few in. “Just one?”

“No.”

“Two?”

“Thirty-five.”

“Thirty-five?” Gus repeated her in disbelief, eyes widening. He turned back to gape at her, to see if she was trying to be funny or something, but she looked completely serious.

“Yes please,” the farmer said with a little nod.

Gus blinked slowly. There weren’t even that many people in all of Pelican Town. What could she possibly do with thirty-five whole pizzas? She and Sebastian couldn’t eat all those. Did the rain mess with her head?!

“… so, you want thirty-five pizzas to-go,” he said slowly, waiting for her to stop him. She didn’t. “Alright. Well. That is going to be, um, 4200 dollars.”

“Okay,” she said before digging around in her bag before pausing to look back up at him. “What’s the special today?” she asked, tilting her head.

“… pumpkin soup.”

“Two of those as well please.”

“Right. Why not? Yes. I’ll have that right out for you,” Gus said a little faintly as he rung up her total and accepted her payment, which she handed over without any hesitation.

She nodded patiently and began to organize her backpack as Gus crept away to go get her food ready.

Twenty minutes later, Gus managed to get everything done. He was sweating and a little frazzled, but he did it. Though he would have killed for Emily’s help. He had half a mind to call her in desperation, but he pulled himself together and got the food. The money was more than worth it.

He had all thirty-five pizzas and two pumpkin soups laid out on the counter in some Styrofoam containers, ready for her to somehow transport it all in the torrential rain.

“Are you having a party or something? That’s quite a bit of pizza for two people,” Gus said casually, trying not to seem invasive. Usually, people just told him all kinds of things about themselves and their days, the farmer wasn’t quite as much of an open book. Though even if she was, Gus wasn't so sure he'd be able to even understand her language.

“The soup is for Sebastian and me. For dinner,” The farmer said quietly, popping open the lid to one of the pizza containers.

“And the thirty-five pizzas?”

“I’m going mining. Keeps up my energy,” she said as she picked up the open Styrofoam container in one hand and her open backpack in the other.

“And you’re bringing full pizzas with you? Thirty-five of them?”

She nodded once, before tipping the to-go box over, forcing the pizza to fall with a wet squelch directly into her open backpack.

Gus stared in horror.

The farmer proceeded to do this exact same thing to every single one of the remaining thirty-four pizzas, dropping them face first into her bag and neatly stacking the empty to-go boxes. When she was done, her bag was full of pizzas stacked on top of each other upside down with absolutely no container. She gingerly placed the soup bowls on top of the pile of dough and sauce and cheese. It made a squishing sound. She didn't even bother with lids for the soup.

Gus did not manage to find a single word to say for the entire duration of this.

“Should last me a few trips, thank you, Gus,” the farmer said chipperly before putting her backpack on, turning around and sprinting out the door, back into the rain, before Gus could so much as wave her goodbye.

Gus considered calling Harvey and telling him to expect a case of food poisoning but thought better of it. She was a successful farmer, friend, businesswoman, and wife to her husband. The farmer must know what she was doing. She could have her … eccentricities, he supposed.

#sdv gus #sdv sebastian #sdv farmer #the farmer is a cryptid #anais writes #stardew valley #stardew #fanfic

59 notes · View notes

hearted-anon · 2 months

Note

Hi can I request ler han lee know please? i love those two thanks! you can choose the plot 💗💗💗

Cat lover

Words: 1.2k Notes: Alright Sana pack it up I know it's you. @itzsana-kiddingmenow T/w: Tooth rotting fluff Lee: Know Ler: Han

Lee Know was more often than not, notorious for hating skin-ship, screeching whenever Chan went so close as to cuddle him, which he retorted that it was one hundred and one percent forceful kidnapping. He enjoyed his personal space more than anything, and Stray Kids too, enjoyed his personal space. Not that he minded that much, but sometimes he wished to just be treated more gently instead of a cuddle toy to be thrown around.

However, the bunny didn't want to be opening up about his struggles, feeling that the members would overshadow him and feel that he didn't want to be touched at all. He did, more desperately than you think, he just felt things were too much at times. This especially applied to tickling. Don't get him wrong, he loves releasing his stress through screaming till his lungs were hoarse, but the constant roughness made him feel that all he was good for were rough tickles, both giving and receiving. Now as much as he relished in that reputation, not receiving though, he didn't want to be only known for being a menace, he swore he could be soft too.

But alas, no one understood his pain.

Jisung watched with concern in the distance at the sulking cat, pondering what had happened. He was so cheery a few days ago, after getting his mood sorted out by Chan, but now all he did was mope in his cat den again, it was rare nowadays to see him patrolling the halls. If you did manage to catch the miracle, he would hiss and retreat, fangs out to bite you if you got too close. The quokka grew more and more worried for the bunny as the days passed, his worries piling much higher than any of the members would compare, skyscraper tall if you needed an exact measurement.

Eventually Han decided on steeling his nerves and entering the treacherous den anyway. He didn't care if he got scratched, bitten or clawed at both mentally and physically, he needed to know if his soulmate was okay, clearly upset by something that Minho had the pressing urge to keep inside like a precious stone to his heart.

"Lee Know hyung..?" He calls out wearily, as if a cat toy was slung around his neck, pointing to him as bait to lure the cat in. Sure enough, a mushroom of hair peeked out from the corner, piercing eyes boring into the soul that dared step foot in his cavern. The cat waltzes closer, eyeing the nervous prey up and down, scanning for any signs of trying to lure him out again. He shuddered at that thought, Changbin using actual cat toys the previous day made him feel so flustered, and probably frustrated the dwaekki walked out red face with tear streaks afterwards. (maybe will be a side piece.)

Surprisingly, he found none, offering a warmer, more soft nod before letting the ace in. Jisung heaved a sigh he didn't know he was holding, trudging into the room. What left him astonished wasn't the fact the room wasn't exactly primed and proper to the bunny's usual liking, but they were stuffed toys, absolutely everywhere. On the floor, on his desk, on his bed, enough to be considered an actual cat playground. He didn't question Lee Know for his choices though, he knew better than to.

"Now, tell me why are you here?" Minho started off, his voice sounded different to the touch, Han couldn't tell if it was the lack of hearing it these few days or it was much softer, like a gentle stroke to his ears. It felt incredibly soothing, he didn't know why, but he did know he was not going to be complaining about this change of demeanour anytime soon.

"I just wanted to check if you were okay, y'know, with the ignoring situation and all." The younger mutters, shuffling awkwardly in the spot where he sat next to the older on his bed, tempted to lie down onto the array of stuffed soft plushies that practically were calling his name. There wasn't a response, only the quiet breeze that tried pathetically to calm them down.

"I-I just, it's stupid." Minho relented, sighing as he buried his face into his arms, propped up by his elbows that sat uncomfortably on his thighs. Jisung very much frowned at this, he would never ever think anyone's problems were stupid, even if they were the smallest of smallest. Everyone deserved to vent, especially when they have been rotting in their room the whole day. A comforting hand squeezed the older's shoulder, encouraging him to speak up what was on his mind. Staring for a moment, he finally caved, laying his head onto Han's lap as he rambled about everything that he felt.

A pang of guilt shot through the younger's heart, had he really been hiding this the entire time, much less be good at it? His heart squeezed, running a hand of affection through Lino's hair in soothing strokes to calm their heavy hearts. They both just sat in silence, letting the weight Minho had carried like boulders come of his shoulders little by little under the warm presence of his ray of light, not including his children. (Changbin and Felix)

"You look just like a cat sometimes..." Jisung wandered aloud, hand going to scratch behind Lino's ear gently, like people would with cats. A squeak left his mouth, and to Han's surprise he earned honey-like giggles in return. His eyes widened, smiling softly when no signs of hands trying to pull him away came.

If he wanted to be treated softly, he would get it now then.

"It tihihickles! Bahahahdly!" Minho choked out, squealing again when a nail traced along the shell of his ear, covering his face with his hands. A soft chuckle came from above, smiling down at the cat who was melting like an ice cream in the heat from the soft affection.

"Cats are so cute! Are they not?" Han motioned to the wide smile on Lino's face, giddy and happy from all the sensations he felt. Butterflies swarmed his tummy, the chains that once weighed him down replaced by a guiding light to his dark pit of emptiness, a dimple very much prominent on his face. His cheeks lit up at the underlying compliment he detected, shaking his head as he continued to giggle.

"No? Cats aren't cute? Then why is this big one proving me wrong? He emphasised his point with a scribble to his neck, earning a squeal and scrunching of shoulders before he went back to scratching those ears. The room filled with warmth and giggles, Minho eventually dazed out with glistening eyes and a permanent smile, scooped up surprisingly easy by the quokka.

"Ehehehe...fehehelt gohohohod..." Minho was practically giggle drunk by that point, snuggling up to Jisung like a cat would, making the younger's heart melt into a puddle of goo akin to the older. Wrapping his arms around Lee Know, he felt so much warmth radiating from him, pondering if it was because he was so giddy with happiness or he was just naturally like that, he never really was the big spoon was he?

"Goodnight, sleep well." Was all Minho heard before passing out, ensuring that smile was completely turned upside down after being comforted with such warmth that he definitely, positively knew he wasn't getting anywhere else, even though he knew Chan was a liable option. He just favoured Jisung, his soulmate, and his best friend.

They definitely got scolded for the plushie mess they left behind though, and got an earful for worrying the members silly.

#..?#Lee!minho #ler jisung #grrr #love this duo #for sana #<3333 #stray kids tickle #skz tickle #kpop tickle

30 notes · View notes

futureplayboibunnie · 1 year

Note

Hello! I really luv your work so maybe could you do more smutty sherlock stuff? Maybe dom!sherlock and a reader with a praise kink?

‘Distraction’

Sherlock x fem!reader

- I’M BAAAACK w another smutty ass sherlock fic. i swear all my sherlock fics are always so long, i need to get a grip but i really enjoyed writing this one. love u xx

Sherlock's mouth was twitching and his mind was in a constant state of strained unease. The world was asking too much of him and it irritated more than anything, Mycroft was breathing down his neck with a mountain load of cases he would never even get around to looking at and sometimes Sherlock just wanted to kick someone in the teeth, feel the blood pumping through his veins in a way a lousy case couldn't satiate. He was angry, annoyed, restless and uneasy.

Sherlock put himself in that situation though, he was being a hermit hiding out in his flat and he didn't even let John come in to entertain him- Sherlock could only think of you.

This was bad. He was in demand...but he didn't know what he was demanding for…you? He didn't know how to control his emotions, he felt something heady and particularly intoxicating about you, he was almost drunk off it. You were insatiable and it piqued his interest, you were a curious little thing, always poking your nose in places it didn't belong- including just Sherlock. Sometimes he just wanted to scold you for being too daring and risky, he didn't like the idea of you putting yourself in a dangerous situation for the sake of it...but you liked the danger of it all just the way Sherlock did. He didn't like that at all, it was like you could see through him in a way no one else could.

Sherlock knew you wanted him. It was obvious by the way you would eye fuck him in socially inept situations, in a crowded room- he admired your callousness although deep down he wanted to put you in your place. His accolades made you blush, his praises made your eyes gleam slightly, you loved him complimenting your work and he knew it was a big weakness within you. Your breath halted everytime you were near him and your mouth would pry open slightly and he had to surpress the urge to close your pretty little mouth for you- it was adorable and distracting at the same time. The universe was determined to pull him next to you...or was that Sherlock himself admitting he wanted you...in more ways than one? The calculations of it didn't make any sense and it was clouding his head, he didn't know how to make any of this go away, if only he could show you instead of talk.

You were bored of his moping, you wanted him to have some fun with you on another case and it was to cheer you up more than him. You just wanted to know what he was up to, Sherlock was always up to something, in a grey area of nothing inherently bad but nothing inherently good. Although he wasn't allowing anyone to visit him, you took it upon yourself to tease him out of hiding. You didn't really care for the ramifications, you never did.

You trodded up the stairs of his flat and you open the door slightly to let yourself in. Sherlock was pacing around, messing with the multiple experiments he was conducting at the same time. He was just trying to take his mind off of you, but these little thoughts kept meandering into his head.

You. Just you.

Sherlock heard the tremble of your breath first and he could practically hear your raised eyebrow at his strange but not infrequent behaviour- it was endearing. He got up from looking at his microscope when he heard your footsteps enter, he scrambled to look at your face again and it was etched in judgement but at least it was that of endearing judgement. He felt his ego straighten up, Sherlock couldn't remember the last time his ego was shaken, he was always so sure of himself but you obviously had to fiddle with things that best be untouched. Including Sherlock's innermost desires.

‘’You've been busy.’’ You remarked with a quirked eyebrow and a small smirk.

‘’Get out, I'm still busy.’’ Sherlock said breathlessly and it made him straighten his posture, he didn't like how uncertain and certain he sounded at the same time. He definitely didn't want you to go, but like always he had to act as if he didn't care for anyone or anything...especially something as useless and pathetic as desire and sex.

God he really wanted it though. You were wearing a skirt.

He could just hike it up and easily…

You interrupted his wayward thoughts as his blank face met yours.

‘’You're not busy, you just want a distraction. Any other day conducting this many experiments would've made you lose your mind. How can you be so detail oriented when you've got so many things going at once?’’ You walked around the room, tapping on the things Sherlock wouldn't let anyone touch. He was actually thinking of an answer to your question, though.

‘’I multitask. It can challenge narrow minded people.’’ His eyes thinned as he squinted at you intently, you twirled around and you met him with a knowing flirty half smile, scoffing at his insult.

‘’So snippy, need a distraction? Got another case.’’ You offered as you walked over to him to stare into his dark cerulean eyes, Sherlock was glaring down at you as your face was near his.

‘’I'm already distracted.’’ Sherlock admitted way too hastily and it made your eyes prick up.

Sherlock Holmes? Distracted? You were half joking when you said he just wanted a distraction, but he was? Even though your eyes were widening in surprise, you couldn't help but provoke him even further. You felt incredibly special seeing him so frail.

The things you wanted him to do to you was unspeakable and you felt a heated blush creep on the back of your neck and your cheeks.

‘’Wow. I never thought I'd live to see the day.’’ You smiled at seeing his hubris crack before you.

‘’Yes. It's a novelty for me too.’’ He said plainly, trying to hide and feign his hidden desire for you.

‘’What's got you like this then?’’

‘’You.’’ Sherlock blurted, but it felt deliberate. The perfect opportunity to just finally admit with a heavy heart that he wanted you, feel the weight of his innate desire free from his broad shoulders.

‘’It's your fault.’’He muttered.

‘’My fault?’’ You repeated.

‘’Yes.’’ He breathed as his fingers fell and brushed against yours and you felt your heart halt in its beating, scoff catching in your throat.

‘’Who do you think you are?’’ Sherlock's lips were dangerously close to your ear and it made you still against him, body heat merging with one another as you slowly pressed yourself against him.

‘’Who do I think I am?’’You scoffed as you blinked up at him, being a flirt as always. ‘’What about you….Sherlock.. what do you want?’’ Your voice was low and less immediate, stretching out whatever this was as a means to revel in it.

His hands travelled to cradle your face softly, large hands feeling the skin of your cheek as his thumb grazed the soft pink flesh of your lips. Sherlock felt oblivious to the world around him when all he could see and feel was you in his palm.

‘’I want to feel you. Naked. Beneath me.’’ His words were potent, dense and you felt like you had to pinch yourself, it must be a dream. Your heart was pounding in your chest and Sherlock could feel your sweet breath fan his face, eyes fluttering a little as you registered his words.

Sherlock Holmes...having a dirty mouth...is something that felt fictitious and delicious. The man was divine, so intense and brutal when he wanted to be- exactly your type. Your mouth was dry, the functions of your tongue forgetting how to move as his stare was that of raw intensity and pure longing. Mind racing and unable to pump the breaks, you were wondering how he would be in bed as of this moment. It wasn't an infrequent thought but you never in a million years thought it to be a reality, only to be conjured in your wildest and wettest dreams. You contemplated if he would be a dom or sub. It honestly could be either, he was so damn unreadable, you didn't know what was going on in that beautiful mind of his. You were keening to find out. The posh twat always loves the divine feminine dom, maybe that's a clue. Although, the way his eyes were scorching into yours made all of your thoughts draw to a blank.

‘’Are you going to talk sweetheart or are you just going to stand there gawking at me so vacantly?’’ His fingers jutted your chin up so he could make you squirm.

Sherlock loved it when he got that bodily reaction from you, it just confirmed that it was definitely not one sided and you were thinking of the lascivious things that best left unseen.

‘’I think I'm enjoying my mindless gawk thank you.’’ You flirted but he wasn't in the mood for any of your games. He's come to love that look in your eyes, the one of need, desire, to put it so crudely- eye fucking. Sherlock grabbed you by the cheeks, his fingernails indenting into the skin of your face, you were taken aback when he finally made his intentions clear. You honestly thought this was a part of a sadistic sort of experiment, but now it was actually piecing together- he wanted you. Sherlock Holmes wanted to undress you, feel your skin, fuck you in his bed.

‘’Don't be difficult, you surely can't be after your incessant need to catch my attention. Well, consider my attention caught...I'm simply asking because it's polite. Do you want me to put you out of your misery and make you finish or not?’’

‘’So vain.’’ You muttered, chewing on your lip slightly unsure of what to say without sounding like the thirstiest person ever.

‘’Do you want me to fuck you on the stairs because right now I will.’’ Sherlock was deadly serious, he didn't care if it was uncomfortable for you, he would take you in any shape or form, pin your hands behind your back, pull your hair make your brain melt with how good he made you full but you were still staring at him blankly.

‘’For fucks sake.’’ You finally breathed out before colliding your lips to his.

Like two magnets, like a moth to a flame- you simply just couldn't resist each other. Your fingers were in his hair as your body moulded to his, Sherlock was also quite surprised with himself, he'd never let anyone touch his hair but when you tugged on his curls he let out a delectable hiss. He really liked that. He wanted you to do it again. His kiss was passionate, certain and beautifully cruel.

‘’Tell me you want me.’’ You hummed against kisses, your fingers immediately crowning from his hair to his blazer and button down. Sherlock's hands were roaming around your body as if he owned it, his insanely large palm went to your ass and squeezed tightly over the fabric of your skirt. He was feeling brazen. His fingertips toyed with the hem of that skirt he just wanted to rip off, and felt at the skin of your ass under it. You shivered into his touch, every single feeling driving a new unforgivable sensation.

‘’I'll show you. Forgive me if I'm not polite about it.’’ Sherlock had never been this desperate before, to openly obey an order was foreign to him but you could pry just about anything out of him.

Sherlock clasped your hand and quite literally dragged you to his room, you had to suck in your squeals of delight, you couldn't believe any of this was actually becoming a reality. Your reality. He fucking wanted you. He slammed his door and pinned you up against it, lip to lip. Your moan echoed through his entire body, his soul rocked at the sensation. His lips found that spot behind your ear where your pulse was hammering, Jesus your heart was beating fast. It brightened his mood and amplified his ego.

You went to shrug him of his blazer but he got there before you. Sherlock ripped off your top with his bare hands, you inhaled sharply as the cool evening air hit your torso. He quite literally tore it off, the look in his eyes were that of ash and fire. Your lip quivered and your eyebrows tensed with that one look. The fact that he was the only one that got your legs wobbly and your heart stuttering was making him so insanely happy. The reaction to his kiss allowed hiim to deduce that you've been kissed before...but not often. The thought pleased him.

Nimble fingers went to unbotton his button down. You took your sweet time with this just to be a teasing little bitch. Your eyes went doe as you gave him a look of foax sincerity and sweetness

Oh...so that's how it's going to be.

You finally discarded it and the bulk of his biceps alone could crush you, his arms, his hands, his chest were so finely crafted he was akin to that of a Greek God. Sherlock pulled you from the door frame, he sat on the edge of the bed and you were standing infront of him.

‘’Strip for me.’’

He whispered, the fated words making the atmosphere damp and heavy and you enjoyed revelling in it. The way he said it made your mouth pop open slightly.

You were more than happy to oblige with his delicious demand. Your dignity was deteriorating with every moment you spent with him. Sherlock's blue eyes darkened as your fingers went to the zipper of your skirt, your intense gaze met with his, unwavering, downright carnal. His jaw clenched when you teasingly shimmied your skirt down your long, smooth legs. Your frame was fucking remarkable. Dear Lord it looked like you were crafted by the angels in heaven above. His stare fell to your feet, he smirked when he still found you in your impossibly high heels, he wanted to feel them dig into the small of his back when he finally fucked into you.

Sherlock wanted to paw at you like a filthy animal, his inhibitions fleeing him the longer he gaped at you. You bit your lip sweetly as your fingers fell to your back as you began the slow pace of unclamping your bra. You were so deliberate and he wanted to just fuck the pettiness out of you. Sherlock watched intently as you flung it to the other side of the room to care about later, your tits fell free and he just stifled the urge to grab you right now.

He just had to remind himself: patience is a virtue.

Giggling, your fingers hooked on the lace of your underwear and shimmied it down. He let out a scoff, almost entranced and confused at how beautiful you looked. Sherlock gripped onto your waist and tugged you between his legs, his fingers pinched onto the bare skin of your hips. His lips met with your soft lower stomach and he planted a kiss there.

‘’Beautiful...’’ He exhaled as he breathed in your intoxicating scent.

‘’So you can be nice.’’ You smirked down at him.

‘’Only to you. Only. You.’’ He said deadpan, you gushed when he emphasised the word 'you.' You tucked your hair back behind your ear bashfully as the waves of anticipation began creaking back into the airwaves. You weren't sure where he was going next with this.

Sherlock's grip daren't soften, he pulled you down onto the bed, your head hitting the pillow allowing your hair to sprawl out, he thought you looked like an angel- hair casting a halo like figure in your stance. He kneeled between your sweet thighs to stare down at you, face contorted in pleasure already. He hadn't even done anything yet, it made him chuckle lowly. Mocking you condescendingly but you didn't have it in yourself to care or argue.

‘’You've been begging for it haven't you? Just admit it. It's only us. Only you and I here...together. Don't be coy now.’' Sherlock was just revelling in your desperation and it made your insides sizzle and burn, it was almost unbareable. Your lips twitched as you flushed, unable to control how your body was reacting.

Sweet. Jesus. The effect this man had on you.

‘’You're quite the distraction.’’ You said meekly, they were the only words you could muster up. Your voice wasn't a reflection of your actions though, your hands had a mind of their own, flying to his zipper and roughly undoing his pants. Sherlock caught onto your wrist to stop you in your tracks, he would be lying if he said he didn't like the direction in which you were going in. Images of you choking on his cock flashed through the forefront of his mind, his breathing became heavier. His tongue glazed his lower lip as he let out a breathless scoff.

Yeah, maybe later.

‘’Ditto.’’ He muttered.

Sherlock pinned your hands against the bed beside your head, excitement thrumming through your veins at whatever delicious torture he was bound to inflict. His fingers pinched and palmed at your tits, a broken moan fell from your lips as his long thick fingers travelled down the skin of your stomach to your glistening pussy. You threw your head back. He swiped up and down before finally inserting a finger inside of your wetness, you squirmed under him as he bent down to kiss at the crook of your neck.

‘’Fuck...Sherlock.’’ You moaned out, physically incapable of keeping it in anymore.

‘’You can take it.’’ Sherlock reassured deadpan and impassive, almost like an

You huffed as he pistoned another finger inside of you, he was delighted with how wet he got you. It was an indicator of the amount of pleasure he was drawing out of you, his ego boosted tenfold. You exhaled as he finally pulled his fingers out, in the pale moonlight his fingers glistened. Giving him a perplexed look, Sherlock wanted to rattle you even more, drag it out, surprise you.

‘’Open your mouth. See how sweet you taste.’’ He chuckled, so obviously pleased with himself.

Your eyes widened slightly at his request but his hard glare made you believe that it wasn't a request but an undeniable demand. You couldn't say no to that look, that scorching, firey look. You opened your mouth and he was beaming at the sight. He stuffed his fingers into your wet mouth, suckling on his fingers to taste at yourself. Humming against his fingers, Sherlock felt his body buzz and his cock harden. You gawked up at him through your lashes, the look of neediness etched all over your face- the cherry on top of the cake, his fingers in your mouth. He wondered what you looked like on your knees. You let his fingers go with a pop.

‘’Good girl.’’ He praised and it made an incredibly obvious blush stain your face.

Oh, you loved that.

Your mouth slanted against his, tongues dancing against tongues as you felt your heartbeat hammering against your chest. Tugging his pants down, Sherlock's cock finally sprung free. You glanced down, eyes unable to comprehend how fucking big he was. It was curved, thick and leaking. You felt yourself salivate at the sight of it.

‘’Sherlock...please.’’ You begged and he decided to give you the mercy.

He pushed himself inside of you, clinging onto him for dear life. Sherlock burrowed and nestled himself in your hair and your skin, spiralling wih the fact he got you like this- this has to be a dream of some sorts. It simply cannot be real. Fingernails digging into his shoulderblades, he hissed into your skin as he rutted in and out of you. Your moans and groans creating a symphony of euphoria. Sherlock gazed into the vast planes of your glassy eyes, he could simply get lost in them forever. Your heels dug into his back and the pain was stunning.

‘’You make me weak...pretty girl.’’ Sherlock admitted breathlessly.

The whole world stopped. It felt like it was tipping on its axis. You made Sherlock Holmes weak. You couldn't fathom the power you held, you were drunk off it and it made you moan loudly against his lips. It felt like music to his ears.

‘’Sherlock.. you're a God.’’

‘’Not quite, but almost.’’ He teased as he kept up the brutal pace.

Sherlock just kept going and going. His libido was undeniably high. His stamina unrelenting. He was lost in the sweet sounds you made, the quirk of your body with every thrust was something he committed to memory. You felt yourself spiralling out of control. The intensity increased tenfold, the intimate eye contact the driving force of it all. You couldn't hold back. You were right at the edge. Euphoria hit you like a ten ton truck, waves of pleasure like lightning down your thighs; your knees buckled under the pressure as you gushed onto him, coating him in the generous amount of wetness he so easily illicited out of you.

‘’Stunning…’' Sherlock murmured before he was cut off by a gutteral groan rumbling from the insides of his gut. He stilled as he finished inside of you, completely and utterly spent. You grabbed his face and planted a kiss on his lips, curls wild as you carded your fingers through it.

Pants covered the room. Air thick with post coital bliss.

Sherlock rolled off of you and lay beside you in attempt to regain his breath.

But you were far from done. You darted your face to the side to remark at him.

Without thinking, you impulsively clambored onto his lap and his eyes widened in surprise. Fucking hell, you were insatiable. Your lips shattered against his again, his large hands roamed the expanse of your back and goosebumps littered your skin.

Sherlock spanked your ass and it made you rip your lips away from his.

‘’Christ. So insistent aren't you?’’

#sherlock fanfic #bbc sherlock #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes smut #sherlock angst #sherlock x fem!reader #sherlock fluff #sherlock smut

290 notes · View notes

ya-zz · 11 months

Note

would you mind writing sigma with a praise kink?? thank you so much <33

SIGMA MY LOVE

Apologies this took awhile to get to, lovely! I hope I've done this some justice ♥

Sigma x Reader (gen)

Word count: 1317

Siebren was used to receiving praise, especially when it came to his work. His understandings of the universe and the stars above gained him quite a few compliments on the daily. He enjoyed it thoroughly and it even pushed him to keep going, to find out more about the endless abyss above.

Although, over time, the praise was becoming quite tormenting to him, the same compliments being thrown at him slowly became mundane. He expected them now and they were no longer surprising. In fact, he would try to guess what the next words to come out of their mouths were.

“You’re really amazing, Professor!”

“Can’t wait for the next finding!”

“Keep up the brilliant work!”

Among many more, they were drilled into his head, a symphony he couldn’t stop no matter how many times he would try to put his mind elsewhere. All he would do now was nod, smile and keep working, ignoring the comments that came. Each and every time he would wander the hallway, someone would say something, so he would plan his time to avoid everyone whenever possible.

In fact, he was getting so tired of it, he hired an assistant to help him. He would stay in his lab while you would go on coffee runs and transport papers to others. You were his personal assistant, under one rule that you weren’t to compliment him. It confused you at first, but you agreed as you needed the money, and he was paying well.

You would watch him write down some of the most mind boggling equations on the board at the front of the room, each of them confusing you more and more as you looked on. No matter how hard you would try to think to try to work it out, your mind would come back blank.

Occasionally he would offer to teach you, but each time you declined, knowing that no matter how long you stared at the letters and numbers, it wouldn’t make sense.

All you could do was do run his errands during the day, go get his coffee, tea sometimes when he wasn’t in the mood for high caffeine, run some documents to other employees and bring him reports or books. Whatever he asked, you would do. Most days it was just the coffee run, other days it was hectic. You did your job well, and that’s all that mattered to both you and him. You stayed silent most days, only talking when he started the conversation, whatever it may be.

Siebren grew quite fond of you as the weeks passed by. He enjoyed your company and he enjoyed the quietness. His mind was clearer than before and he managed to get quite a lot of work done since hiring you.

He knew he made a good choice. You followed his orders immediately, and if you had any qualms, you were direct in telling him, rather than moping around. Siebren could work comfortably around you, and sometimes at the end of the day, he would partake in casual conversation with you, usually asking about your future plans or listening to your complaints from outside of work.

Although he only had you as his assistant, you were more of a friend to him, and your presence was always welcome around his lab.

Those weeks merged into months and the two of you grew closer. Close friends but not lovers. It was a calm and sweet feeling as the two of you continued to share stories about your past and Siebren of his findings. Yet you would refrain from complimenting him, and it irked you in ways he wouldn’t know. All you wanted to do was congratulate him on his new research, to praise him for all of the work he had been conducting recently but you saw the way his face soured after the countless compliments he’d receive whenever he walked to and from his lab.

Just like every other day, you would enter the building, instantly grabbing yourself and Siebren coffee, sauntering through the hallways until you reached his lab, unlocking the door with the keycard he made for you and placing his cup down on his desk, mindful not to spill the contents on his papers.

The professor was scrawling over the whiteboard, muttering incoherent words as he wrote, not seeming to notice you enter and stand next to him. You watched on, keeping your distance as to not distract him before he turns and smiles at you and then goes back to writing his equations.

You move out of his way, sitting down and waiting for his order, slowly sipping on your drink as you continued to watch him.

“Ah! Finally!” The professor exclaims after some time. He turns to you, eyes sparkling under the fluorescent lights above as his smile grows.

You look at him before looking at the board, nodding in little understanding. “You have spent weeks on this singular equation and you’ve finally cracked it, well done! I knew you could do it!” The smile on your face faltered slightly as you realised what you had just done, and the look the scientist gave you confirmed your fear.

There was an uncomfortable silence in the room as you avert your gaze, looking around before looking down at your hands. “I- I apologise.” You stammer, feeling his eyes still on you.

Siebren stood there in shock before his shoulders relaxed. He didn’t know why but something felt different. Hearing the praise come from you felt right. His cheeks grew warm at the feeling, wanting to hear more of your praise.

“Say it again…” He voice was low but accent thick. “Please…”

Your head shot up, the confusion clearly plastered on your face as your mouth opened. “I-I am proud of you, well done…”

He stood there for a moment longer, face red and an awkward smile on his face. “Thank you, [y/n].”

All you could do was nod, not knowing what else to say in the moment. Your eyes lock with his before he looks away, walking back to his desk to grab his coffee. He felt strange. Happy, almost. No, definitely happy. Excited, maybe. All he knew was that your praise to him was something he thoroughly enjoyed and wanted to hear more of it.

He glances over at you, watching you as your eyes scan the whiteboard ahead, the confusion ever present on your face. Siebren chuckles to himself, leaning back against his desk. He had this pang of want and need in his chest as he stares at you, something inside of him burned and it wasn't the coffee.

You caught him looking at you, cheeks warming up as you smile at him before looking away again, suddenly shy and timid. His smile grew on his face as he stood straight, your words echoing in his head as he grabs a handful of papers.

“Perhaps you could deliver these for me?” He approaches you, handing the stack of papers to you.

It caught you off guard, but you nodded, taking the papers from him as your fingers brushed his in the process. Both parties smiled gently before you stood and left the room.

“No rush, take your time!” He called out to you, and for once, he wanted you to take your time. The professor watched you leave before he made his way into his private office at the back of his lab, locking the door behind him as he sat down at the desk in there. Your words continued to echo within his mind, overpowering every other thought as he slumps down in his chair, one hand ruffling his hair as he contemplated on what to do next.

No matter what he thought about, you plagued his very mind. Words like a broken record, never ending and he loved it.

“I am proud of you, well done.”

#overwatch #siebren de kuiper #sigma x reader #siebren de kuiper x reader #ow #fanfic #overwatch fanfiction #reader #overwatch 2 #sigma overwatch #gender neutral reader #reader insert #sigma #ow2 #yazzfics

133 notes · View notes

bladesmitten · 5 months

Note

(anon feral about Wyll transformation scene again) Do you think he has nightmares after that? dreams where he's human and then wakes up a devil and has to readjust all over again? nightmares where the transformation is worse, more drastic, more monstrous? nightmares where it happens again? where the devilish nature makes him do, or want to do, something monstrous?

when he wakes up from one of those do the changes hurt, or seem to hurt, again? does he go to anyone for comfort or try to soldier on? does he yearn for how he looked and felt before, even while he does his best to accept the changes and move forward? does Karlach notice him having a hard time and go try to comfort him somehow, because she knows that was all because he wanted her to live?

Karlach's engine was put in there against her will, Astarion got vampire'd against his will, do those two ever talk to Wyll about it from the angle of someone who's gone through something not the same but comparable? do they want to help get him away from Mizora before she can do anything worse to him, both knowing that it never stops at just the transformation, not wanting to find out what she would do to him next? (Karlach knows from an angle of having been used after the 'upgrade' as a devil's warrior and attack dog, Astarion knows from an angle of having been used as a vampire's tool and plaything, and from what they see of how Mizora treats Wyll she very well might do any/all of that or find some new other terrible thing to do)

when he realizes they have overlapping traumas like that do you think he seeks them out for help or comfort, or to try to help/comfort them because he's like that? do you think even the companions who don't 100% get the specific "somebody painfully physically transformed you against your will for their own gains" trauma notice him sleeping fitfully sometimes and recognize the same kind of pain in his voice that they heard that night when he was transformed and they just know what that nightmare was about?

it's late and I'm rambling but YOU KNOW???? WYLL...

(I haven't even made it through act 2 yet and I'm already like this about him)

considering wyll still has nightmares of him being exiled 7 years ago? he definitely gets nightmares about this one too. the readjustment period is another thing altogether - his skull is heavier, he has to rebalance his center of gravity to stand up straight, and everything else in between. it's a lot to handle, both in reality and in his sleep.

(also thinking about the last time something drastic physically happened to him is when he lost his eye 🥲 and now here he is again trying to readjust his life)

this is headcanon territory but - that man is a Sulker... whenever he thinks he's alone he just kinda mopes about it all. but it's also sooo obvious that he's not okay and that he's just putting up a front.

karlach definitely does everything she can to cheer him up. whether that be cracking the shittiest jokes (that wyll laughs at so earnestly) or playfighting with him. astarion does it in his own prickly way, like a cat pretending not to be endeared by wyll - offering to bite him to give him a good night's nightmare-less rest. gale cooks wyll's favourite dish as a morale boost - even though fresh ingredients are hard to come by. lae'zel offers to spar with wyll to take his mind off things, or just telling him how great a warrior he is and how she'd love to [redacted] his [redacted] (LMAO). shadowheart would tease wyll about his affinity for trashy romance novels, giving him a backhanded compliment on how hot he looks with his horns, and that his new look would fit in the cover of a trashy romance novel (that she'd totally read and enjoy).

whenever mizora appears in camp, everyone just forms a wall between wyll and mizora like a phalanx. wyll protection sequence activate.

i also like to think wyll recognizes that he's no longer alone in his suffering. he's not as isolated as he once was! that's why he's so eager to make friends, why he gives approval on every question you ask him. he's grateful to have these people who care for him, especially his bestie karlach who'd give her life for him and vice versa 🥺

(get yourself ready when you get to act 3... honey youve got a big storm coming.gif)

#ask #Anonymous

46 notes · View notes

cookiesupplier · 5 months

Text

A Friend Down In Hell - Part Three

pairing: Nick Folio x ofc (Ishtar)

warnings/tropes: slow burn, pining, idiot in love, language, drinking, mentions of violence, mentions of torture, mentions of religious mythology. (potentially more to be added)

summary: Folio can't quite tell you how long he's been dead, but it doesn't matter when he has friends like his, and Ishtar. Ishtar, with whom he fell in love the moment he met her. The problem? She doesn't know it. How does he convince a demon, who is practically immortal, to date him when he's dead? How did Ellie do it so easily?

author’s note: Unbetaed.. Enjoy!

tags: @spicywhenspeaking @tearfallpixie @cncohshit @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @lyschko666 @bngurngheart @lacktoesandtoddlerants @sorrowsofsilence @collapsedglasshouses @vinyardmauro @dsireland86 @4rtificialfolio @emmmm127 @badomensls

Tag lists are open, please let me know if you'd like to be added to this story, the Hell-Verse as a whole, or Everything.

Ishtar’s night was not going as well as she would like it to, Tony was being extra vulgar. From the vile things she’d heard about them from some in the human world, you’d think being demons and vulgarities went hand in hand, but it didn’t. They were as normal as anyone else, at least she supposed it really depended on what one would consider normal. In some cases, normal was tormenting souls day in, and day out to teach them lessons that they hadn’t managed to learn during their previous life cycle. Not that she thought that was a bad thing, it was just another job here, it was a means of living in the Afterlife. Tony, though, made a habit of bringing vulgarity into their job where it didn’t need to be, she was not part of the merchandise to be sold, thank you. The fact that he was human didn’t matter, it was almost as if working in a demon-friendly bar, gave him license to be as crass as he desired to be.

Yes, her mother was associated with love and fertility, but he sometimes forgot that the woman was also very closely associated with war. This meant that when he suggested that Ishtar could use her body to sell more, she might also just have no problem beating him fucking senseless for it. They didn’t even really exchange money, the man was ridiculous. Thankfully, she liked her job too much to get fired because her manager was a pig who told her to pop extra buttons on her shirt and expose her cleavage a bit more.

She was drying off a few freshly washed glasses when Folio came up to the bar, having seen him walk in, she brightened as she saw that cute smile approach.

“Well, hello there, Sunshine. Fancy seeing you tonight, it's been a while.”

Setting the glass down, winking to him as Folio grinned, she used the nickname, because she did her best to try and keep her distance from her customers and not using their actual names was one of the ways she did that. Nicknames she recycled over and over were a given, even if Folio was something special, Sunshine was just for him, but there was a hope that he hadn’t picked up on that, or anyone else. As yet, no one had said anything.

Folio beamed when Ishtar came to him, thankful he didn’t have to wait long for her, had he timed it to get to the bar so she could serve him, ah, hell yeah, Tony was a butt face, the dude was just an ass-hat that liked to leer at girls and made Folio want to ask Ellie to borrow her bat sometimes, but, he didn’t, because being banned from the bar would mean not coming back to see Ishtar. Seeing the way her face lit up after how frustrated she looked moments ago, made it all the better right now,

“Everything has been a bit up in the air, with Ellie officially joining the dead-as-a-door nail squad and all.”

Folio’s wry smile came then, he knew his sense of humour wasn’t the kind most agreed with, but come on, he was dead, if he couldn’t make fun of it, what good was it? Did he really have to mope about all the time because he was dead? He didn’t feel dead, why did he have to be sad about it? He wanted to live every day to its fullest, even here, in hell! Thankfully, Ishtar had never been one of those who gave him flack whenever he made a joke about it, instead she just laughed and shook his head at him.

“Well, I’m glad she didn’t take all your heads off, it’s good to see you guys are back after all, who else is going to give the demons a run for their money at the shot challenges.”

Ishtar winked at Folio with that, he was kind of notorious for doing that to Sebastian after so many years, not that he’d ever won, but he kept trying. She’d give him that, he was beyond determined at the very least. It was admirable. It was adorable. Even when he was passed out drooling on the floor, it shouldn’t be, but it was. Ishtar knew she should be more firm about not serving him as many shots, but when he smiled at her, how could she say no?

Folio couldn’t help but chuckle.

“You bet I’ll be back for those shots later, but for now, our starter round please.”

She smiled brightly and Folio grinned, the soft gleam of Ishtar’s amethyst eyes as she turned to fill his order, she was so beautiful, he’d never met anyone more captivating. Anyone who assumed that she was nothing but a pretty face and a bartender didn’t see beyond the demoness that stood beyond the bar pouring drinks. Folio saw more. Once she had finished their drinks, she set them in front of him, he smiled at her,

“Thanks.”

Folio carried the tray of drinks back toward their table and found the guys chatting among themselves, Ellie had a knowing smile on her face,

“So, that's the girlfriend.”

He rolled his eyes as he glared at Jolly, knowing he was the one who was most likely to give him away. After all, he was the one who was always trying to give him advice about how he could actually do something about what he wanted, which was to actually date Ishtar instead of just sitting and flirting with her. He’d never get it.

Ellie just laughed,

“Oh don’t look at Jolly, he didn’t say a damn thing, you're the one that was standing at the bar with hearts in your eyes Folio, it was easy to put two and two together.”

Right, now that she’d been given hints, that there was a girl on the scene that he liked, and why not Ishtar..

“I should have seen it the first time we came here.. I remember her, seeing you flirting with her that day.. Remembering how gorgeous she was.. Damn.. wait..”

Ellie looked from Folio to the bar, and then back, and he was quick to drink some more of his bar as he could hear the other guys start to laugh around him while Ellie was looking at him with deeper scrutiny.

“How long, Folio?”

Swallowing down the gulp of his beer, pretending like he hadn’t heard the question,

“What?”

“How long?”

“What do you mean? How long what?”

Oh, he was happy to play dumb as long as he needed to, he really didn’t want to answer this question. All the guys knew the answer, and they were laughing at him. They all thought he was an idiot, Ellie would think he was an idiot, but it wasn’t like he had a time frame okay, he had forever, and he was dead alright. They weren’t mortal or anything… he had plenty of time, he was fine!

“How long, Folio?”

Oh, fine, he’d tell her,

“Fine fine fine, pretty much since I met her after I got out of punishment…”

She looked at him with raised eyebrows as if to say, how long ago was that…

“It doesn’t matter, a few years, I have my reasons, but it's going to work, she’d got to ask me out okay, I am not going to be one of those creeps that give the bartender my phone number.. I used to be the bartender, okay.. You know what we called those people? Barflies, and we just shooed them away, I refuse to be nothing but a barfly! One day, she’s going to ask me out. One day.”

There, there, he said it. Downing the rest of his beer,

“Now, Noah, since you want to laugh at me, I suppose you’re all good for some shots?”

Folio grinned wide and Ellie groaned,

“Folio, you promised!”

Nope, no he had not, she just asked if they could skip the challenges, and he’d pointedly not answered, maybe letting her think he agreed when he had no intention, the shot challenges were the best way for him to get more time with Ishtar for him… so, here they went.

Ishtar watched as Folio and Sebastian were at the bar, downing the shots. One after the other. She might have added some extra kick to some of Sebastian’s shots, half to help Sunshine, and half to spite Tony. The likes of Noah Sebastian distinctly getting tipsy drunk over a few shots, and he knew she was giving him the extra strong stuff, the good drinks, and he was pissed, she could tell, but he couldn’t do anything about it because technically, she wasn’t doing anything wrong. Tony however like to stretch the booze further by giving the crappy stuff, which she would never understand considering they weren’t charging money for it anyway. They looked after each other in here, and Tony, he only looked after himself, so to her it was no wonder he was he had been in the job he was doing twice as long as anyone else before him. She felt no guilt in throwing him under the bus at that moment, he was a horrible manager of the bar, horrible.

Smiling, she giggled as she poured another round of shots for the pair at the bar, making sure the demon’s shots were suitable for him, watching as he was swaying on his feet. Her lips pressed together with a slight smirk. Go on Sebastian, enjoy getting, how did some of the humans come through put it, drunk as a skunk? She did not envy that poor human Ellie, putting up with that giant demon hung over and all that. The bigger they are, the harder they fall. He was probably one that was a baby about it, and would magic it away.

As it was, Ishtar, slid the shot to Folio now, whose smile had turned, for lack of the better word, fuzzy as he looked at her. His eyes were still so bright, blinking to her as if he stars in his eyes,

“Oh Ishhy, thanksshh you.”

She giggled, shaking her head at him, he always got like this during the shot challenges, Ishhy, Ishtar shut down anyone else that dared try to call her that. When Tony had laughed and called her that after the first night that Folio had, in return, she’d flipped him off and told him where to go shove it. He had never much liked that she hadn’t been very receptive to his advances, but the fact that she’d not rebuffed Folio just as intensely as she did everyone else, seemed to rub him the wrong way, but she didn’t care what he thought. Tony was inept at best.

“You’re welcome, Sunshine, drink up, tonight is your night, I got a feeling.”

It wasn’t his night sadly, but it also wasn’t Sebastian’s night, they called the challenge before they both passed out on the floor, but what followed after the challenge well, drunk people didn’t make the smartest choices, and the girls that always followed Sebastian around. One of them made the mistake of trying to drunkenly flirt with him.

In front of his girlfriend.

Scratch that, they didn’t just try to hit on him, it was so much worse than that.

Jolly had just agreed to take Folio back to his apartment because Ellie was going to need help getting Noah home this time. He didn’t always get this drunk, Ishtar might have felt bad for that, but technically as she saw it she’d just evened the odds on Folio’s behalf.

Before Ellie, Noah might have laughed off how drunk he was, he might have just stumbled out with his arm slung around Nicholas’ shoulder to head home. There was even a time, though that changed a few years back when Noah would be walking out with any number of random women. Ishtar hadn’t been working here long when he was doing that, but apparently, those groupies of his had been a popular choice. Always hanging on his every word, so easily enamoured with him… and tonight it seemed one of them hadn’t forgotten, or was willing to give up on trying again.

Before they left, Ellie went off to the bathroom, and Nicholas was sitting with Noah, making sure he didn’t fall flat on his face mind you, when the girl walked her way over to him, the purpose in her step was obvious. Ishtar from the bar couldn’t hear what was being said, but she could tell from Nicholas look of disgust, reluctantly stepping back, crossing his arms with a frown, and Noah’s drunken stumped look of confusion, that plainly said, what-the-fuck-is-this-bitch-doing with the way her ruby nail claws trailed along his shoulders down his tattoo exposed arm from his tank top. He said something to her, and Ishtar’s eyes narrowed as she dried the glass from behind the bar when the girl just giggled, what was she playing at, she could see from here the way he wasn’t having what she was putting down. He was drunk though, and he looked it, so his movements were sluggish at best.. So, as Ellie was coming out of the bathroom, just in time to see the stupid little demon girl leaning into her boyfriend as he tried to push her away from him, Nicholas arguing with her about being too close, and Ellie saw just in time to shriek across the bar as she went to rush over.

Chaos erupted.

Divider by @saradika-graphics

27 notes · View notes