#r: gn

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Star-crossed in the Crosshairs (John Price x Reader)

Epilogue: Choosing My Confessions

Fic Summary: This mission is the pinnacle of your efforts for the past three years. Your whole team and yourself have worked countless hours, slaughtered hundreds, risked life and limb for scraps of intel, and now it all boiled down to pairing up with another taskforce to get this job done and dusted. An unexpected spanner in the works comes in the shape of your former best friend, now also a Captain and somehow resurrected from his KIA status, John Price.

You can’t afford to let feelings - old and new - get in the way of your purpose. No matter how much you’ve missed, wished for, loved him, and no matter how much he might feel the same

AN: Mild spoilers but this is the hurt/comfort aspect. If you'd rather hurt/no comfort, then leave it at the previous chapter.

Chapter 10 // AO3 Version // Masterlist

Weighed down by a worn-out fleece, John Price dragged himself into the lift of his apartment building, hitting his floor button with one knackered pointer finger, his other hand refusing to drop his bag until he was inside his bedroom. Tomorrow, he’d spend half the day soaking in a hot bath with a flannel on his head, air heavy with condensation and the smell of cedarwood. What a welcome for the new year. He counted each of his breaths each level he was taken above. His toes were stiff with chills in his boots, wriggling to get some warmth in his bones before the stroke of midnight.

Sliding in between the doors, he grunted whilst fidgeting in his pockets. At last, his key came free and it slid into the door - awkwardly, so he made a mental note to oil it later into his shore leave. The door slid open. John instantly withdrew his pistol, using the muzzle to push the door open further. A quick evaluation showed the additional cylinder lock still functional.

Abandoning his bag outside his door, John silently prowled into the front room, expecting anything: unturned furniture, ransacked drawers, an identical gun pointed straight at him, anything.

Except for the large lump he spied tucked up on the couch.

The maroon throw blanket that usually rested over the back of the sofa was curled around a sleeping body. John pivoted around, his gun still raised until he saw the face poking out the blanket’s edge. Then his arms slacked, the gun still safe but loose in his grip by his thigh as he laughed under his breath.

He reached across to the side table and flicked on the lamp. Its golden glow highlighted the scar on your cheek, a new one gained in the nine months since he’d seen you last. Your chest was rising and falling with little snores accompanying each motion.

Once he’d retrieved his bag, John slung it to the floor beside the almost identical one at your feet. He debated over what to do next. Eventually, he landed on clearing his throat.Your head lifted instantly, your soporific gaze meeting his equally tired one.

“Hello, stranger,” He said, his voice hoarse yet kind.

“Hi,” You replied, rubbing your eyes before waving a hand at the front door, “Sorry, I waited an hour before I picked the locks.”

So you had gone through the motions of getting his address but not his phone number. Not for the first time in his life, John questioned your train of thought. Then he remembered what he put you through for a decade and decided that hypocrisy was not the goal of the evening.

“Waited longer than I would’ve,” He huffed then used his foot to carefully nudge your overnight bag, the onehe knew you could live out of for a fortnight if push came to shove.

You didn’t notice, or chose not to, instead asking, “What time is it?”

“Uh,” John checked his watch before taking it off, “Half eleven.”

You nodded in acceptance but made no further effort to talk, looking down at your hand fidgeting with the throw rug in your lap.

Sensing you didn’t wanna get into the reason you were sleeping in his sitting room yet, John offered you a helping hand, “You can take my bed. We can save the shop talk for tomorrow.”

Your hand in his, hauling yourself up, grip tougher than it looked, you moved past him, leading the way to the bedroom, “Thanks.”

John didn’t ask how you knew which door it was behind. Rather, he sought refuge in his en suite, shedding his clothes and finding the energy to bother separating them into his divided laundry baskets. It was all he could handle not to fawn over you being in his home and your reason. You always were a curveball in his life, keeping him on his toes. Opting against the effort of shaving, he washed his face and pulled on his pyjamas.

Somehow, the image of you slotting in your earplugs and seeming stiff in the middle of the ice cold bed tilted John’s world off its axis all the more. You whispered a good night to him, which he returned, then he moved away, out and onto the couch just as you had done. His feet poked out onto the armchair, but he didn’t bother covering them in the throw. Instead, he focused on the ceiling, flat and smooth with boring white paint.

Sudden cheers caught his attention, echoing from outside. Faintly, he could make out the numbers descending.

The bellowing of “zero” brought flashes of red and yellow lights slipping through the gap in the curtains. They irritated the white paint with splashes of unpredictability. John’s mind switched up, despite his deep breathing, and he swiftly closed the blinds behind the curtains, shutting out any sign of the new year from his sitting room. Slipping back under the blankets, his body tensed against the few echoes of explosions that made it past the double glazing. He despised every second his body betrayed his intentions, putting him in work-mode in the comfort of his home when he could normally flip the switch without a second thought.

After about ten minutes, John pushed to sit up and groped around the sofa cushions for the remote. Grounding himself amidst the sounds with the images of the sparks showering around the Thames had to be easier than this.

Outside, some drunkards singing Auld Lang Syne clashed with the sporadic and delayed fireworks and the arid display on his TV set. It did little to convince his amygdala that he didn’t need five exit strategies on top of the ones he already had in place. The only reassurance was that, if something were to happen, this would be a nice place to go – with you nearby.

A dim shadow in the screen turned John’s head to see you and how you’d found his dressing gown, donned it accordingly.

You spoke before he could. “Can’t sleep. Where’s your tea?”

When you held up your hand to his attempt to get on his feet, John began pointing out the cupboards needed for your quest. His twisted spine didn’t complain; you brewing for two nondescript mugs was far more fascinating than whatever revelries were going on in some London stadium or recording studio. A soft thanks crossed his lips as you passed one mug to him over the back of the couch.

“Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year. What you watching?”

“BBC concert. Wanna watch with me?”

“You’re so fucking-” You let out a huff, then you hit him lightly with the dressing gown’s cord: “Polite.”

With a short yet deep belly laugh, John patted the sofa cushion beside him, “Never been called that in my life.”

“Don’t make me do it again then.”

Still, you moved around the couch and sat in the space offered to you. A healthy distance cushioned between John’s legs and yours.

Temptation to ask about what you’d been doing the past nine months blended well with the milk and tea – it was “tomorrow” after all. The words were on the tip of his tongue, ready to fall out in such a casual way to mask the impact of your reply, whatever it would be. You couldn’t just be here and not have something to say.

Your earplugs, nudged neatly in place, protected you from the stray fireworks outside and from noticing John’s runaway train of thought. It was almost peaceful to watch Rick Astley and Rylan (of all people) bop about on stage with warmth in your hand and at your side. Just enough to settle your stomach, you sipped your tea and absorbed the warmth through your palms.

In a move categorised under “high risk, high reward”, John unfolded the blanket he had been sheltered under and held up the corner in your peripherals wordlessly. You tried not to let this action derail your intentions as you tucked in closer to him to lay that portion of the blanket over your lap.

Three inches of suffocation between the two of you yet goosebumps extended from your arm hairs to feel the hum of his blood beating through his veins, like your body needed proof you were really next to him and not just a daydream you’d conjured up each time you debated if you regretted your choice or when you’d revisited the situation in therapy numerous times. This feeling was no doubt mutual. John Price had the patience of a sniper, but you were dangling him off a precipice whilst he waited for you to explain yourself.

Knocking back another sip of tea like it was whiskey, you asked, “I’m not keeping you up, am I?”

“No. No, you’re all good.” John told both truth and lies. Yes, you were fine being here. But you’d kept him up many nights, not just this one.

He zeroed in on your wrist as you leaned forwards to place your mug on the only other coaster on the coffee table. A new tattoo of a lit match sat beside his callsign’s artwork, the flame’s linework a nice contrast to the helmet’s bold yet fading black. So much of John’s attention was on the inked pairing that he almost missed what you said to him as you sat back into the couch.

“I think I’m ready to try and work things out with you.”

John wasn’t the kind of man to double take at something shocking. His body was built for earthquakes, absorbing all shockwaves, no swaying, sturdy and reliable. But the phrase he’d hoped to hear all those months ago sent tremors off the Richter scale. Twice glancing at your complicated expression, your words sank into his head with a sluggish pace he was unfamiliar with.

“What?” He asked, his heart beginning to pound and pine for confirmation.

You gave him the privilege of looking right in your eye as you repeated yourself, as steady as before:

“I’d like for us to try working things out. I’m ready to move on from that and I’d like to do that with you, like you asked me to back in March.”

A lot of Nerve was needed to pull this stunt off. Good thing you were known for it. The old times, so far away, waved to the new ones you’d just told him could exist.  

Eyelids pressing shut to stave the mist that filled them, John’s chin met his chest as his head gave into gravity. His voice had gone AWOL. Maybe you were gonna be in the habit of making his speechless, but he wouldn’t care if you did if it meant what you said was God’s honest truth.

Meanwhile, you were starting to tremble with the effort you’d made to come here in the first place. All the decisions you’d opted for, rehearsals with your therapist and in your head, led you to sit in front of him and say with the integrity of your soul bared that, after months of absence, you were willing to try properly. And you were met with a stoic stern man sniffling.

“Am I too late?” You said quietly.

John sighed, drawing himself back up to show you the smile breaking out on his face, “Never.”

First time in years, your tears were not brewed in agony and his presence hummed in your veins. Reaching for your hands, John’s snapped together with yours like magnets. It wasn’t enough. Almost instantly, you had climbed into his lap and wrapped yourself around him until you could strangle each other with your iron grips. You felt nauseous with relief. John’s nose stuffed into your neck, his entire body bloating as he breathed you in with his burly arms firm against your back.

The smallest gap between you so that he could look you in the eye. His thanks fell from his lips over and over, like water tumbling down a fissure, for giving him another chance. Through his gratitude, he could see in the glass of your eyes how much you’d worked to get to here – to him, for him. Because of damage that he’d caused. The best thing anyone had ever done for him, and he didn’t deserve it. But he would take it in this rough reunion, too overcome to do more than just sink into one another.

Far from the same, from before, from a normal steady relationship that would survive under normal circumstances, especially considering you’d be shipped back out to Urzikstan in three days. But God, you knew you’d made the right choice coming back at this point in time. You’d take every second with him now that you could.

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

AN: And that's it! I finally finished writing a fanfiction series. Thank you for reading and engaging with it on here and AO3. I really appreciate everything. Thank you again also to @mockerycrow for the original concept and allowing me to write this inspired piece of writing. Onwards, to the next fanfic!

Tag-list: @mockerycrow and @algor-babe

#john price x reader #john price fanfic #captain john price x reader #captain john price fanfic #john price #captain john price #cod #cod fanfic #cod x reader #cod x you #my writing #series #r: gn

[hotchfied]

lari from @hotchfiles yaps too much, so this is her library. wanna read everything i wrote for a specific character? check #ch: name or nickname

updated ongoing series masterlists !

darling, in any life

choiceless hope

we could be love

adhd chronicles

kiss with a fist

march hotchness

#ch: hotch #ch: spencer #ch: remus #ch: isaac #ch: james #ch: sirius #ch: seth #ch: stiles #cw: hotch smut #r: gn

[nyahchan]

Ok, here we go. Cryptid x Reader, where the Reader is on a hike with friends and said friends prank the reader in a really mean way causing them to run off and start crying. The Cryptid stumbles upon reader crying and for some reason misinterprets this as reader seeking a mate and starts doing a mating dance thing that the reader starts out being confused by and a little scared but then they start giggling and think it's really pretty, but then that is misinterpreted as accepting the Cryptid and the Cryptid is soooo happy that this little human wants their eggs! And obviously the crying is just from nerves, so they'll just hum and sing until the get all sleepy and fuck their eggs into them. And they'll be so happy when the wake up safe in the Cryptid's nest and so full and pregnant!

Sorry if that was long and weird lol my brain just kept going.

A Cryptid's mate

Yandere cryptid x gn reader

TW:non-con, implied killing, toxic friends, attempted murder, monster fucking, somnophilia, extremely rough non-con, blood, breeding

Author's note:- you didn't specify the gender so I tried to write it in a way that any gender can read it with whatever pronouns as I made sure not to add any

For you guys see this

Humans are stupid and weird, they tell others to be careful of the red signs yet they themselves seem to ignore them.

You are unfortunately one of those foolish humans, you saw the signs yet you chose to ignore them, you knew better than anyone else that these people who stand in front of you laughing right now, calling themselves your "friends" are just wolves in sheeps's clothings. Your eyes start to blur as you remember being so excited when your "friends" asked you to go on a hiking trip with them, there was a slight voice in the back of your head, asking numerous questions about why they would suddenly ask you to hang out with them in an activity considering they never included you in anything, but you were naive and hopeful and you decided to agree.

During the hike, your "friends" kept on whispering to each other and giggling, you couldn't understand why until they reach the middle of the forest where suddenly one of your "friends" shoved you and another took your hiking bag and began rummaging through it, throwing everything on the forest floor.You couldn't understand why, you tried to tell them to stop, but they kept on snickering "There's a dangerous bug that fell in your bag from one of the trees!" said one of them as they threw all your belongings on the floor and then "accidentally" stepped on them. You tried to brush it off as a kind gesture that went wrong, you tried to smile through it but deep down you knew, they did it on purpose.

Now most of the items you had brought for the hike was ruined, your bag had mud on it as well as the items that didn't get ruined. You all continued walking through the forest, going deeper and deeper inside when you guys are met with a river with high current going downstream, there's a path over it to walk through. Your "friends" tell you to walk on the path first ,feeling pressured,you do exactly that but as soon as you do, one of them pushed you into the river,you see in the corner of your eyes that they are grinning as you fall into the river. Your immediate survival insticts start working and you grab onto a large stone in the river and push yourself out, your bag flowing down the river. You're gagging and choking on air as you frantically ask them why they did it and the only thing you get in response is "it's a prank relaxxx" but you can't anymore, tears run down your face, you eyes get blurry and without thinking straight , you run off to whatever direction your feet take you to, you don't look back, you don't look front either, you're vision too blurry from the tears as you cry and run, your wet clothes making lots of splashing noise as it hugs your body, your undergarments fully visible through your clothes now.

Before you know it, you're in the middle of yet another forest except here, there are no trail tracks for hikers, but you don't care, you're too busy crying at the thought that your own "friends" tried to kill you, you cry by yourself, or at least that's what you think as right behind you stands a strange creature, not human, but not full monster, a cryptid or whatever humans nowadays decide to call his specifies, but it looks human and for some reason, it's extremely handsome. The cryptid man watches you cry from behind, you're so drowned in sorrow that you don't even realize there's a monster man behind you. He watches you cry and ponders on what might be the reason for such an adorable little human to be crying all by themselves in his territory, the territory where cryptids live, the territory he rules, the territory far away from human knowledge?And then it suddenly clicks in his mind, you're crying because you can't find a mate. Good news for you, he's also looking for one!

The cryptid immediately jumps in front of you, making his presence known to you. You're immediately startled and frightened at the creature in front of you, you rub your eyes to wipe the tears away and take in the appearance of said creature, it's around 8 feet tall, is muscular, looks so weird yet also like a human, his face is chizzled and he looks so handso- you shake your head and then look at the creature with a look of terror, but that immediately turns to confusion as the cryptid starts doing this weird funky dance, to you, it's a goofy silly dance, to him, it's a mating ritual and the second you crack a smile and start giggling at his mating ritual, he thinks you have accepted his proposal, he's so happy that this cute little human wants to be his mate, he can barely wait in anticipation as he sees your wet clothes sticking to your absolutely delicious body! The cryptid immediately picks you up like paper and carries you even deeper into the forest, you start panicking and try to struggle in the creature's grip but it's futile. Upon seeing your struggle, the cryptid interprets it as you're probably just nerves, but that's okay! He can just hum and sing to you so you feel relaxed cause he needs to make sure his mate is relaxed as he's gonna get his little human pregnant with his seed! And so starts humming a song, occasionally singing it while he keeps taking you deeper and deeper into the forest, before long, you stop struggling and fall limp in his arms as you fall asleep. The cryptid is happy that you're finally relaxed as he places you in his lavish and comfortable nest.

Your clothes are no longer on your body, thrown somewhere in a forgotten corner. Your unconscious body spread apart as you're being split on his large girthy cock, all that can be heard is the wet clenching noises of his inhuman cock hitting deep inside you, slapping against your skin. He plays with your nipples, licking, turning and twisting them, earning a moan from your coma like sleep state. Moans escape your mouth so often even though you're asleep, he's glad that he decided to put you to bed before fucking and breeding your tiny little human body as you definitely would've gotten hurt otherwise as blood drips down from the skin that tore which was expected considering his cock is way too big, so girthy and meaty and the tip is like a mushroom. At one point, you wake up but the immense pain you feel immediately causes you to pass out. The cryptid kisses your lips as it feels itself nearing his release after 3 hours of constant abuse on your tiny body and within a few minutes, he ejaculates inside you, his eggs spilling so deep inside you, your stomach starts bloating a bit and then bloats a lot. You look absolutely divine , filled with his eggs! Although not all of them wi fertiloze, at least one or two will, and he's so excited to see his little human mate all round and pregnant with his spawns!

When you awaken again, you're lying on a fluffy nest, your eyes hazy, you feel dizzy, you feel heavier, you feel extremely sore and in pain to the point tears start trickling down your face, suddenly a pair of rough hands touch you from behind, one caressing your stomach while the other is caressing your face, wiping the tears off of it, you can't do anything but cry "I'm sorry, you must be in a lot of pain, there was lot of blood, don't worry I stitched you up" you wonder how this creature even knows human language, or where he got the tools for stitches or how he knew how to do it, your mind runs a 100 miles a second,youre too scared and exhausted to move so you just whimper when from the corner of your eyes, you spot familiar clothes, you recognize them immediately as the clothes of your "friends", your eyes widen as you see blood on those clothes and your eyes try to wander further to see the full scene but the cryptid immediately covers your eyes with one hand while the other is still caressing your bloates stomach, he coos in your ear "shh darling, you're still recovering, just relax and go back to sleep, you're gonna be a mother soon, you don't need to stress about anything, I got you new clothes as gift for taking my eggs so well, I just haven't washed them yet" is all you hear before passing out again. You're now stuck with this strange creature.

#smut #yandere x reader #yandere x male reader #yandere x female reader #yandere x reader smut #yandere teratophilia #teratophillia #exophelia #yandere exophilia #gender neutral reader #yandere x gn reader #yandere #breeding k1nk #non con #r@pe kink

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed

{☆} characters furina, neuvillette {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood, injury, light angst {☆} word count 2.3k

What was justice?

Focalors had asked herself that question many times during the long nights she spends awake pouring over the prophecy of a dead God, words replaying in her mind like a broken record until the sun rose like a blooming flower.

She was the God of Justice, an Archon, yet she herself lacked the answer to such a simple and yet so very complex question.

How does one define what is just and what is not? How does she know that what she believes to be just is right? Is it justice if one being alone may sway the scales of justice on a whim? What justice is there to be found in the cold, watery grave that awaits her nation?

She does not know.

Perhaps she may never know.

What she does know, at least, is that this is not justice.

It is a mockery of it.

She stands before the bloodied, broken body like the judge, her sword held so tightly in her hand her fingers feel stiff, a dull ache adding to the weight of what she's seen. For a long, horrible moment she almost thinks they are dead – something she would have reveled in, only a day prior – before she sees the subtle rise and fall of their chest. Breathing, but barely.

The rain felt heavier upon her shoulders at the realization – she was not sure if it was in relief or horror.

Her nails dig into her palm, mind stuck somewhere between that abject horror and confusion so palpable she swore she could hear the gears in her head turning.

For a long, silent moment as she stares upon the body beneath the heavy rain..she wonders if this is how it all ends instead. If the world itself will simply crumple in on itself and cease – without its heart, it will wither, after all – long before the waters ever swallow her nation whole.

Because, try as she might to rationalize it, for every drop of rain that hits her like pins and needles, soaking her down to the bone..the body of the imposter is completely dry. Even the water pooling along the stones dares not to leave so much as a splotch against their ragged, torn clothes.

She remembers the meeting so very clearly, and she thinks she is a fool to not have noticed sooner – the Creator upon their gilded throne, finger pointed in accusation at the visage far too similar to their own. The imposter. She remembers the lilt of their voice as they called for their death as easily as one would speak of the weather – and to no one other then herself would she admit the spark of fear it had ignited within her. Because beneath the divine charade there was a sick enjoyment in the way they looked upon the imposter – like a bug beneath their shoe.

She understands, now.

She had thought that perhaps finally – finally – she could do right by her people, by her Creator, if she rid Teyvat of this..intrusion.

Now she sees herself as what it all really is – blind lambs following the herder.

Perhaps she would be considered a heretic under the eyes of the law – beneath the weight of justice, heavy as the heart that bears its sins. Perhaps this is a mistake, one she would come to regret.

But for now, she sheathes her blade with unsteady hands, the sound making her ears ring – for what she had almost done, what she had already done – as she stumbles like a newborn lamb towards the broken body of..

..What, exactly? Human? Divine? She is not so sure what to call them. Creator? No. The name is bitter upon her tongue, now, burning like liquid flame down her throat.

Where once she had spoken it in reverence and admiration, it felt hollow and empty, now.

Her vision wavers as she kneels down against the rain soaked stones, the rain upon her back growing heavier as she reaches a shaky hand forth – and for a moment, however brief, she feels the weight of expectation, of a title she fears she may never live up to, wash away with the waters that fall from the heavens.

The bruises and blood smeared across their skin are like strokes of a paintbrush, their body the canvas from which such horrid art is created. It makes her ill.

Doubt wavers her composure briefly – her position is already unsteady. She has never been seen as an equal to many of the other Archons. Her own people do not see her as their Archon, but an actor in a grand play that they shall simply toss aside and replace like a broken doll the moment she bores them.

What does she have left to lose?

She reaches out again, her hand settling onto their shoulder and turning them onto their back. She..isn't sure what to do, actually. She's never been particularly physically capable – she tended to avoid fights, even if she oft provoked them – and she was certainly no healer.

Yet what choice does she have but to march on anyway? She is in the heart of the city, it is far more dangerous here then anywhere else..she had little time to make her move.

Fontaine was, after all, a nation founded on the principle of justice. To know an injustice has been made against the most Divine..the entire nation was in a frenzy.

Her eyes dart around nervously, hands clasped tight on their shoulders and her lips drawn into a taut line – someone would notice her absence. One of the Archons would point out her absence in the coordination of the search.

Her options were just as limited as her time – she couldn't just take them out of the city. Security was tight, and as much as she fancied herself an escape artist – Neuvillette could hardly keep her in one place for too long – she doubted she could do the same with the limp body of the imposter in tow.

..The Palais Mermonia it was, then.

Her room had a secret entrance that few knew about, and even fewer would dare to traverse. She just..had to hide them there for a bit and hope Neuvillette wouldn't notice anything different.

Probably.

Still, there was the problem of actually..transporting the body. As grim as it sounded. Her only solace was the fact she didn't have to worry about them catching a cold, at least, and their breaths were still audible, if only barely. So she had to resort to some..unexpected methods.

Seeing the limp form of, well, the imposter – she'd really have to ask for something else to call them when they woke up – stuck in a bubble of hydro wasn't exactly on her bucket list.

Then again, neither was treason.

Well, first time for everything, right?

It wasn't breaking the law if no one else knew about it.

..Neuvillette didn't have to know about it, really. It was fine.

She could, of course, technically try to talk some sense into Neuvillette – he'd listen to her, right? She thought she was pretty close with him..but he was also the one person more obsessed with justice then she was. Such a stickler for the law..so maybe she's breaking a few, it's fine.

But he was also pretty devout, as much as he tried to keep his worship private – with Focalors around, nothing was really secret. Maybe she could get him to settle down long enough to prove it.

..How was she going to prove it?

An exaggerated groan escaped her lips as she led the bubbled imposter – she really wished she didn't have to resort to that, it would be a lot a more awkward to explain then dragging the body around – through the winding streets of Fontaine. She's just glad she's already memorized the entire city like the back of her hand..and a little dramatics went a long way. People listened when the Hydro Archon spoke, and she was suddenly very, very glad for that fact, even if they treated her more like a mascot then a God.

And partially because she, maybe, just a little..stole a few documents detailing the layout and a little personal exploration of her own – but what Neuvillette didn't know couldn't hurt him!

After what felt like hours, though was really no more then half an hour at best, she'd managed to drag herself – soaked to the bone with rain – and the conveniently bubbled imposter up through the secret entrance and into her room.

The perceived safety, as flimsy as it was, was..comforting. Until she heard the rustle of fabric, the clearing of a throat and the pop of a bubble as she, in her surprise, popped it – and then the thud of the imposter hitting the floor.

She felt a bit of regret about that part, at least, wincing.

"Lady Furina." His voice was as sharp and cool as she remembered it always being – like fresh spring water, she'd heard it described. Soothing. It did not feeling very soothing right about now.

She turned sharply on her heel, a forced smile tugging at her lips on reflex, every muscle in her body tensed – she probably looked like a wet cat right about now, soaked with rain, but that was the last thing on her mind.

"Do you mind explaining what, exactly, you did?" Not what you're doing, she notes – what she did. He was mad. Oh, she was really in for a scolding now. She twiddled her thumbs, laughing weakly, though it quickly dies out at the awkward, tense silence.

"Well, you see – it's rather complicated! I can– I can explain." Her attempts to diffuse are met with a raised brow and the sharp tap of his cane. Every single thought is plagued with the urge to run, but the unsteady breathes of the 'imposter' keep her rooted in place. "Well?"

She was sweating bullets, her nails digging into her palm as she scrambled for any excuse that could warrant her not getting hauled off and scolded thoroughly at best – she was coming up empty. How was she supposed to prove that the 'imposter' was very much not what the 'Creator' said they were? Their unconscious body was doing no one any favors, certainly.

"The Creator is lying," She blurts out, immediately regretting her impulsiveness when she feels the sudden weight of his stare – the piercing hues of his eyes that remind her just who is the strongest between them. It is not her, she knows. It never has been. "You can see for yourself! Don't you trust me, Neuvillette–?"

Her voice is cut off by the sharp click of his cane as he strides across the room in only a few steps, his height making her feel like a child about to scolded. She hated it, but she grit her teeth through the exchange. She reminded herself that this was for the sake of the 'imposter' and any affront to her ego was..tolerable.

To her credit, too, she didn't immediately lash out when she saw him poke at their body with his cane, turning them onto their back – she wanted too, though. She considered it, but the thought was quickly shot down when his stare turned back upon her, and she felt frozen in place again, her tongue a heavy weight in her mouth.

Yet she couldn't shake the sudden tenseness to his shoulders, his brows furrowed and a distant look to his eyes. It was..haunting, in a way.

She knows it well, she realizes. The realization and acceptance, the crumbling of every solid foundation you've ever known – leaving you to flounder in the waves, alone and afraid.

The gentleness in which he picks up the limp body surprises her though, his cane set aside. The rain howls like a horrid storm outside, but she cannot focus on anything but the furrow of their brows, the soft noise that escapes their lips.

"I trust that you know that this must stay between us," His voice is soft, like the gentle lap of waves against the shore, as he sets their body down against the bed, his hand lingering against their cheek with something almost like reverence – and if her eyes do not deceive her, affection. "Lady Furina."

She does not hesitate to agree.

"Well– well of course!" She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning at the feeling of her wet clothes clinging to her skin, a heavy weight that feels like it's dragging her down. "Just what do you take me for?"

He doesn't deign to respond.

It only makes her fume more.

Not that he seems to notice, unbuttoning his heavy outerwear and tossing it on the bed, rolling up his sleeves and focusing on the injured– er..yeah, she really needed a new name for them. Calling them imposter felt wrong.

"So long as you understand, then we will have no problems." She huffs again, pouting and puffing up her cheeks, sitting down on the other end of the bed with only an occasional glance towards him as he worked at peeling away the ragged clothes and examining the injuries marring their skin.

She suddenly felt out of place.

..What was she supposed to be doing?

As if noticing her sudden quietness, Neuvillette sighed, his back turned to her though his attention very much falling upon her. She really hated the feeling like she was being dissected whenever he looked at her. It was unnerving. She doesn't know how anyone else handles it..

"If you are so eager to do something, Lady Furina, then please have something brought up for when our..guest awakens. They will need to recover their strength."

Finally! Something she can do. She perks up, her heels clicking on the floorboards as she darts out like a bullet, unable to stay still for so much as a moment.

Neuvillette, for his part..

Feels an odd sense of serenity as he stares upon the troubled features of the..guest. A peace that lessens the burdens upon his shoulders, the weight of a nation upon his back.

He cannot hear the rain, anymore.

..It must have stopped.

#sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin impact #fic tag #imposter au #focalors #furina #neuvillete #a family can be a dragon an archon and his 300 other children who reverse adopted him #u date him its a package deal sorry #u now have like 300 children g-dspeed #also tagged spoilers on neuvi's part bc its kinda a spoiler??? sort of #also this can be read as platonic or romantic on neuvi's part #can u tell i like focalors btw :) #also gonna be swapping between focalors/furina bc SOMEONE sent me a theory and it sent me spiraling im gonna be ill #u know who u r and ur days r numbered #can be read as romantic between reader & neuvi but only bc i know focalors rubs it in his face she found the actual creator first #anyway can u tell focalors is my fav pt2 i wont shut up abt her its terminal atp #focalors.................. #anyway *doesnt post fr months. randomly drops a 2k word fic. leaves and doesnt elaborate* #starts out v serious ends v silly #wrote this in one sitting im gonna go pass out now gn

[luvring]

THE MOST ATTRACTIVE PERSON IN THE ROOM

timeskip iwaizumi x gn!reader ft. msby + osamu, akaashi | 1.5k words, swearing, implied alcohol, suggestive?

“okay, iwaizumi, i dare you to…” hinata drawls, tapping the wooden floor beneath him—the beat of the song that he’s gotten stuck in everyone’s heads today, you note.

“hmmm….”

“this is why we can’t play truth or dare with you, shoyo.” atsumu groans, though there’s a lopsided smile that accompanies it, before taking a sip of his drink. condensation drips down the side and he wipes it with the sleeve of his jacket.

“as if you didn’t steal my dare idea last turn!”

“can’t steal somethin’ that was never yours in the first place.”

“huh? i literally said it out loud.”

“i thought it before y’said it.”

“what?!”

“holy shit, get back to the dare.” osamu snorts and throws a pillow at their heads. “’m gonna have to retire by the time hinata comes up with 3 syllables.”

you laugh softly from your spot on the couch above. hajime snickers next to you, his arm hanging loosely above you.

not around you, of course. just above, on the couch, close enough to brush your head every time you lean a little too far back—which is why you’ve curled further into the edge instead, feet tucked under the throw blanket you had gifted hinata a few months earlier.

emboldened by the conversation as distraction, you let your eyes shift to loom at him. his cheeks are flushed, and eyes crinkled as he watches his team in amusement. there’s an almost empty drink in his left hand, more clinking ice than beverage. but he brings it to his lips to take another sip, and you watch, and you wish you could stop watching, but your eyes seem fixated on his lips as they meet the edge of his glass, and the way his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

the sound of bickering is muffled, and you should look away, really, it’d be embarrassing if he caught you, but he’s scratching the side of his neck, and he looks really good, and—

“okay, fine, iwaizumi.” hinata brings your focus back to the room and stares with sudden determination. “i dare you to kiss the most attractive person in the room.”

the two stare at each other. no immediate snarky remark or laughter follows.

you blink.

you think everyone blinks, actually.

your eyes flicker to hajime again, and you watch his mouth again, though this time it opens and closes twice, three times, as if words would appear if it silently lured them. “...i—what?”

“pfft—”

“don’t feel like getting kissed tonight, sorry, bro. alright, bo, you’re up next, right?”

“oh! yeah, wait, we’re skipping iwa?”

“oh, shut up, ’tsumu, like yer dumbass is the most attractive person in here.”

“i am, actually. objectively, even.”

“you have a twin, atsumu.”

“not seein’ your point here ’kaashi?”

“y’callin’ me ugly?”

“technically jus’ less attractive, but yeah, yer ugly.”

“guys,” you warn. you think bokuto’s still confused on who’s turn it is, while osamu’s put his drink down and sitting up straighter. “drop it. and hajime, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“yeah, but you’ll have to take a shot,” atsumu interjects.

“thought you as the self-proclaimed ‘most attractive person’ were gonna stop him anyway. was he supposed t’drink a shot if he picked ya?”

“no, we would’ve both taken shots.”

hajime raises a brow. “what? as the guy who’s supposed to have the dare—what the hell kind of logic is that? you know what—”

he lets out an exasperated sigh and moves his arm from behind you to rest on his thigh. and it’s not like it was touching you in the first place, but the vacancy makes the back of your neck feel a little colder. “fuck it, i’m tipsy enough.”

“fine, y’can kiss my cheek—”

“i’m not kissing you, atsumu,” hajime just less than growls.

atsumu puts his hands up in surrender while hinata snickers, and you think osamu’s building up to an “i told you so,” but you’re too busy watching the man next to you to really know.

there’s tension in his shoulders as he places his glass on his coaster—one of two that have actually been used, the other drinks leaving rings of water in their place. it’s a wonder that hinata has any in the first place.

your eyes move from his leg that’s started to bounce, to his hands that start to fiddle with the watch on his wrist, and then his mouth where he bites a lip.

and then they move up again, just a little higher, to his eyes—

which are already set on you.

neither of you say anything. but then his eyes flicker down to your lips, and a quick heat builds in your face, your ears, your neck. something in you thinks it must be a joke, but hajime’s already flushed face turns more red, and the (big) part of you that has a crush on him is just a little happy it seems to be because of you.

there’s no time to process that further though, his silence is enough to get the attention of the others anticipating his choice.

atsumu only looks between the both of you for a second before clapping his hands together. “ohh, ohoho—”

“ooh, iwa!”

“huh? ohh—”

“can you guys be normal for 2 minutes?” sakusa sighs and leans back into his chair, deciding to stare at the ceiling instead of his teammates if only for a moment. “and if you two are going to kiss, can you do it faster before my brain shuts down?”

“rude.”

hajime ignores them and clears his throat before facing you properly, shifting so one leg is propped on the couch underneath him. taking it as your cue, you sit up and collect your blanket to one side.

the room hasn’t been this quiet since you arrived first and offered to help set up. but it isn’t suffocating—the quiet is a buzz, and seems to sit in anticipation just as much as you.

“can i?” hajime asks softly.

you nod, your only hesitation is in wondering if he’s serious.

but even a little hesitation is enough. his lips purse, and a concerned crinkle appears between hajime’s brows that you almost want to reach to smooth out, its existence, you promise, unnecessary. he says your name. “seriously, we don’t have to if you don’t feel comfortable.”

you’re shaking your head before he’s done his sentence. “it’s okay, haji.”

“ooh, haji—”

“shuddup, ’tsumu.”

“is it weird i feel awkward watching this?”

“aw, c’mon, ’ji, they’re cute.”

the conversation is an odd comfort as it dulls the sharp attention on you, the tension your body seems to hold everywhere.

hajime moves closer, shrinking the gap between you until your legs touch and you can count the inches between you on two hands. his cologne is easy to notice, and you wish you could pinpoint the fragrant notes, maybe write them down in your head to look for later. (you wonder if that's a weird thing to do.)

the lips your eyes had lingered on maybe a dozen times just tonight are a lot easier to watch as his tongue pokes out to lick them. subconsciously, you do the same.

then a hand comes up, hesitates before finding place on your cheek, and you let yourself lean into its touch. it’s odd—how you wished the arm behind you on the couch would accidentally move a little closer just a few minutes ago, and now your face is being held instead. you wonder if you could ever get used to it.

for a split (embarrassing) second, you even let yourself wonder what it would be like to wake up to the same touch and owner in bed beside you.

hajime looks at you, and you smile when your eyes lock. and maybe it’s your own drink kicking in, but you reach for his free hand to lace your fingers in between his as you nod once more, look at his lips one more time.

his chest rises as he takes a deep breath.

“seriously, guys, if ya don’t kiss already ’samu’s gonna start going bald.”

“the fuck?”

you can’t help the laugh that escapes you or the warm breath that hits hajime’s skin, nor can you fully get rid of the smile on your face as hajime murmurs what sounds like a “for fuck’s sake,” beneath one of his own and leans in.

and then he kisses you.

and you think there’s cheering, clapping and something about losing a bet on who’d kiss who first.

but it doesn’t matter—not while you’re finally finding out how soft hajime’s lips are, while his grip on your hand tightens, while his thumb rubs your skin and fingers moves closer to the back of your neck to pull you closer, closer.

your free hand comes to wrap around his shoulder, and he lets go of the other to reach around your back. somewhere in the back of your head you wonder how long (how deep?) a kiss is acceptable in front of an audience, but you can hear, feel, hajime take a deep breath as he pulls you close enough that his chest is pressed against yours, and you think the others can look away themselves when it’s too much—there’s someone more important to you.

me after writing atsumu myself: wow he's so funny silly stupid 🫶 mann i don’t necessarily Want to know about perfumes and alcohol until i’m writing a fic and go ah. what the hell is a good scent. like girl what is Cedarwood ? not everyone can smell like..mint and vanilla. and how am i supposed to know what this guy would drink when all i’ve had is soju with raspberry gingerale / mango concentrate. which is rlly good btw. yummy...

🏷️| @devilgirlcrybabiey @lordbugs @smiithys @xfangirl-trashx @passionateuchiha @scaramouchesfootstool @fifteenshadesofpinkk @chloee0x0 @kenmaslov3r @bakugosgrenade @dai-tsukki-desu @Thathoneybee3 @momoewn @aintgeluh @dazaisfavgf @simpforerenn @crystal-lilac @vhenis @omiigad @kur0-kawa @semispilledcoffee @idontlikeyourjob @sparrowb3nscloset @awkwardaardvarkforever @rory-cakes @prblmtic @kuroaka @sunaslay @h0n3ysgh0st @lackey-laufeyson @bontensbabygirl @dira333 @spooky1magazine1bread @Kamukayakmonyet @danyisapingu @isentsworld @lilithlunas @anime-ships-gay @todorokiskitten @kellesvt @tooruchiiscribs @curiouslilbeast @fiona782 @cvhenia @mitskiologist @libbyistired @milkbreadforlife @itsukkie @sirimirihiro @mylahrins @aria-chikage @heyitstial @akari-fujikawa

#haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x gn!reader #writing kisses is so. yknow ud think w the amnt of fluff i write id get it by now. i dont though unfortunately. its always a little awkward #ouaahhhh.....whatever... he kisses u soo good he goes smoochy kiss kiss mwah smooch mwah #bkak r together in this in my mind btw. my cutiepies...

[meltinii]

scribble scribbleeele

#fanart #digital art #meltiniart #persona 3 #chidori yoshino #i want to screw around w my art style #idk! im bored #also i think swirls r becoming a meltini staple slowly #I LOVE YAPPING IN TAGS if u read this srry #ok gn

[konigsblog]

tw: rape/noncon, dead dove: do not eat

gaz would be such a brutal, mean rapist... 🎀

he'd be so horny. with such a high libido, he needs to find an outlet — something to dump his hot, sticky load into. he's especially rapey when he's drunk; constantly laughing at whatever and undressing you with his eyes at a bar with the 141, attempting to hide his thick, hard bulge while taunting you.

and you can never fully fight him off. his grip on your wrists is insanely tight, firmly holding you down whilst ploughing into you, with one hand covering your mouth as he rapes you, using your body for his own selfish gratification. he doesn't even feel guilty; he feels better, pleasured, trying to convince you that it's alright because... well, you're friends, right?

he won't hesitate to orally rape you if you speak back to him. you're just a filthy, dumb toy for him to use — so either keep that mouth shut, or let him use it.

“told ya’ to be quiet, dove...” he chuckles softly and drunkenly, looking down at you as he corners your head in with his thighs, feeling your hands grip his hips, tears streaming down your cheek as you slobber and drool and spit all over yourself, gagging on the thick amounts of cum running down your throat, leaving your voice raspy.

sometimes he'll rape you in the barracks, whilst everyone is sound asleep, unaware to your pain. there's been times where another recruit will find out, and instead of protecting you, they'll join in. it's incredibly awkward when johnny looks at you with a drunken smirk, desperate to feel your gummy walls after hearing how good they feel — he needs to feel it for himself, dove...

occasionally, you're drunk and bouncing on his veiny, lengthy cock, too vulnerable and drunk to make a choice like this. he'll even tell you that he didn't want it, to fuck with your head and see you sobbing and apologising profusely. of course, he was the one who coerced you into having sex with him, he most definitely wanted it. but, what do you know? you just need to make it up to him, by sucking him off nicely!

gaz will shape you into a shell of your previous self, completely numb and weak against him.

#orla speaks #tw: non con #tw: r*pe #merry christmas! 🎄🦌🎁 #gaz cod #gaz modern warfare #gaz call of duty #kyle gaz garrick #gaz mw2 #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz #sergeant garrick #kyle garrick cod #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick #gaz x gn!reader #gaz x reader #tw: dark content #dark content #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic

[catscidr]

// dottore nsfw alphabet ft. the segments! //

i. note — (੭ ᐛ ) hehe.....so...... i have the worst writer’s block rn (its probably burnout because i straight up can't bring myself to do anything but o well) nd i thought filling this out would help. spoiler alert it did a little because i actually finished it.... i have like two Almost Finished wips collecting dust in my docs but i just cant get them done ueue. i write for thirty minutes n then close my laptop. i have a problem but WHATEVER!! THROWS DOTTORE NSFW ALPHABET LIKE A GRENADE AND RUNS!!!

ii. includes — dottore, the clones, gn!reader

iii. cw — nsfw under the cut! mentions of overstimulation, bondage, orgasm control, power imbalance, smidge of dubcon, exhibitionism, dom/sub dynamics, one mention of syringes n needles, implied established relationship

A -> Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) 

— He’s not one to outright pamper you, but he does clean you up and makes sure that the bruises he left won’t be too sore in the morning; but if you beg hard enough, he’ll begrudgingly kiss them better. Just use his words against him and tease him a little n he’ll reward you with some smooches! ez

B -> Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and their partner’s) 

— He’s indifferent to his body. On you, though, he goes crazy for your neck. Archons, the things he can do to it are endless. He loves covering it in bitemarks, wrapping his hands around it to feel your rapid pulse, sucking hickeys into the sensitive skin... and we can’t forget how much he loves watching you tilt your head to the side so he can inject whatever liquid is inside his syringe. Call it a mix of sensual and morbid fascination the way he’s obsessed with your neck 

C -> Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

— Dottore’s cum is opaque and on the thicker side, but its bitter and not particularly pleasant to swallow. You can’t really blame him; he’s a busy man and he neglects his health regularly. If you ask him nicely, he’ll try to, at least, sip on some pineapple or orange juice during the day so you don’t rush to spit out the cum that lands in your mouth. He also cums a lot, thanks to his involuntary abstinence in his younger years.........

D -> Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

— Has thought about fucking you in front of his segments multiple times (not fucking you with them, just having them watch you two go at it. big difference here). It’s usually fueled by irritation or jealousy from seeing you spend time with them, but sometimes he’ll get this random urge to just completely and utterly claim you in front of them to get under their skin. Also to overwhelm you. yk. just a bit ˙ᵕ˙

E -> Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

— Wasn’t very experienced before he met you. Had one or two awkward hookups during his Akademiya days, but he really had more knowledge about sex than actual experience (getting a bad blowjob doesn’t really count for experience) 

F -> Favorite position

— You somehow always end up in the prone bone position if you’re on a flat surface. He loves restraining you, but doing so with his whole body takes the cake. He’ll have one hand wrapped around your throat with his elbow on the bed to hold him up (so he doesn’t completely crush you), and the other hand will be holding your hip with a bruising grip to angle your pelvis so he can thrust into you over n over again without mercy

— .....but having you ride him when he’s tired is worthy of being an honorable mention. Don’t think you’re in control though, because as soon as you start to get too cocky he’ll grab your waist n thrust up sharply to knock that smile off your face (affectionately) 

G -> Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) 

— Very serious, he’ll go as far as to punish you for even trying to crack a joke or giggle at something he said or did (but it’s a dub whenever you’re in a bratty mood so it’s fiiiine). Same goes for his older segments. His younger clones are less uptight about it though, and sometimes they’ll let out a laugh when a funny noise happens, but they won’t necessarily make jokes during it 

H -> Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) 

— Trims it when he remembers to, when it gets annoying, or when you point it out. He’s not a fan of being clean-shaven, but if you really want him to be he’ll do it. His pubic hair is a darker shade than his hair, and the first time you saw it you promptly said “so you don’t dye your hair!” (he immediately flicked your forehead) 

I -> Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) 

— Dottore isn’t romantic, full stop. But on a scale of 1 through 10 he would be around a 6; could charm you and sweep you off your feet if he wanted to, but he finds more enjoyment in teasing you than being a gentleman. 

J -> Jack off (masturbation hc) 

— He forgets that’s even an option when he’s in Snezhnaya. Whenever he gets hard he’ll have you take care of it, whether it’s in the form of a quickie or completely ditching his work to fuck you. So he only really masturbates like... once a week, twice at most if you’re not in the mood to help him with his hard on. 

— But when he has to go out to other regions for work and won't be with you for long periods of time? He gets off more often than he’d like to admit. 

K -> Kink(s)  

— Big fan of dacryphilia, spit/messy sex, overstimulation, any kind of restraints, edging, breathplay, power imbalance, biting, dirty talk, brat taming, double penetration and anything that tests your limits. 

— Medium fan of sex under the influence of either alcohol or aphrodisiacs, somnophilia, exhibitionism, temperature play, slightly dangerous things like knife and gun play, and group sex (with his segments specifically, no one else. he’s possessive of you) 

— Honorable mention: roleplay, to some extent. Mans loves to do a “medical checkup” on you every once in a while. And he’s more of a dom than a sub, too. His older segments have pretty much the same kinks as he does (ofc), but the younger ones tend to lean more towards being switchy than just. dom 

L -> Location (favorite place to do the do) 

— Has a bias for taking you in his office. Loves the idea that any of his segments could overhear the both of you going at it and all they can do is rub one out somewhere quiet. He’s so mean to them, using you like that......... 

M -> Motivation (what turns them on)

— When you act like a brat, purposely teasing him n pushing his buttons..... makes his blood rush down to his cock. Can’t help thinking of the many ways he’ll put you in your place later 

N -> No (immediate turn offs)

— Anything that has to do with his kid/youngest segments and his coworkers, the other Harbingers.

O -> Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) 

— Would rather receive than give, but won’t shy away from the opportunity to overstimulate you with his fingers/hands and tongue. Isn’t the best at giving head but will gladly take the time to learn what makes you cum the fastest if you want him to 

P -> Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) 

— Dottore’s usually fast n rough, but he’ll have his moments where he wants to dote on you hard. His lack of affection catches up to him n he just wants to trace every curve of your body while languidly driving his cock inside of you sometimes, what can ya do 

Q -> Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) 

— Prefers taking his time to tease you by a mile, but he loves quickies too (since he can very well tease you by having a quickie) 

R -> Risk (are they game to experiment?) the irony of this wording isn’t lost on me 

— He's game to experiment. If you’re on board, he’s always willing to try something at least once 

S -> Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

— His younger segments tire out easily (virgins....... /affectionate) but his older ones, himself included, can go on and on and on. Him being a hermit n staying in his lab for multiple days at a time is extremely misleading, don’t be fooled!! He’ll overstimulate you to prove a point if you try to even poke fun at him n imply that he’ll get tired because he doesn’t “exercise” much (you’re his exercise, anyways) 

T -> Toys (do they have any?)

— Dottore does have some (and has dabbled in making some, too), namely (big and small) vibrators, dildos, and restraints but most of the time he prefers doing without them than with. Usually. When he does use them, he’ll make the whole “session” about them. 

— Controlling the rate in which a machine fucks you while he lazily jerks off in front of you, just out of your reach so you can’t touch him.... slowing down the silicone dildo’s pace when you start to get frustrated, making you even more frustrated..... yeah 

U -> Unfair (how much they like to tease) 

— He’s the WORST. The worst!!! You never know if he’ll overstimulate you, edge you, ruin your orgasm or just rile you up just to not do anything about it. Loves teasing you just as much as he loves to bury himself in his research (which is, obviously, a lot. good luck soldier) 

V -> Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) 

— Definitely on the quieter side (and it’s totally not so he can hear you more clearly, nuh uh). Lets out grunts/growls and heavy puffs of air more than actual moans, but it just makes the times whenever you do manage to draw out a pretty boy moan even sweeter <3 

W -> Wild card (a random hc) 

— Il Dottore, the Second Harbinger, outcast of the Akademiya, is incredibly touchy. He’ll place his hand on your waist when he walks past you, he’ll keep a hand on your thigh when you’re accompanying him during a meeting. He needs to have a hand on you at all times /whenever it’s possible/, including when you’re having sex. Can’t go a single second without touching you, he would probably actually bite you without any remorse if you tried to tie his hands so he can’t touch you 

X -> X-ray (what’s going on under those clothes ₍ᐢ.  ̫.ᐢ₎ ) 

— Bigger than most, but more of a grower than a shower. 3.8 inches soft and stands at a proud 7.4 inches when hard, with a 4.7 girth . Circumcised (don’t ask how), his skin is light (#FFEBCF) but his cock fades into a slightly darker color (#F7D4BC) while the head is more of a pretty n peachy tone (#F1A491). Has some light scarring in his pelvis area and a defined vein from the bottom of his shaft that stops shy of his glans. Also curves to the right just a bit.......

— His pubes r a dull-ish blue (#88B5D3)— while the hair on his head is a lighter, more teal blue for reference (#B6E0E0). Has a slight happy trail, too

Y -> Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) 

— He used to have a very low sex drive. In the beginning of your relationship, it wouldn't be uncommon for you two to go weeks without any action. As time went on though, he’s come to develop a higher sex drive and now has a mid to high libido. It’s your fault for being so tempting, really 

Z -> Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) 

— Has the freakish ability to go right back to work as if nothing ever happened when you’re both finished, no matter how much you both cum...... makes him the perfect man to provide aftercare though. He’ll stay by your side while you drift off and then he’ll go back and do whatever he has to do— unless you cling onto him n pull him back to stay in bed. If that does happen, he’ll just sit in bed and read a book while you snooze away. 

#the color html shit took so long good lord my fingers r cramping from doing ctrl c ctrl + v help me #dont come for me for describing his weewee in detail.......... #i hope this doesnt flop #genshin x reader #dottore x reader #genshin x you #dottore x you #dottore x gn reader #dottore smut #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #cw dubcon #cw knife play #cw gun play #୧ ‧₊˚cat's work!

[mitoad]

#saw this comment on a konig edit nd it had me BAWLING and BALLING #some of u r a little 2 open about ur personal lives … #🍵 mito's rambles°｡ ⋆⸜ #cod modern warfare #konig call of duty #konig cod #cod konig #konig x reader #konig x you #konig x oc #könig #könig cod #cod könig #könig x reader #könig call of duty #könig mw2 #konig mw2 #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #könig x you #call of duty #call of duty x reader #call of duty fanfic #fem reader #male reader #gn reader #ftm reader #mtf reader

[ilynpilled]

“But that was long ago, and the boy was dead.”

based on that one berserk panel

#do u ever get sacrificed at the altar of knighthood at age 15 or r u normal #gn

[abbyromanoff]

MOTHER NATURES TEARS AND FEARS

PAIRINGS: Little!Wanda Maximoff x Mommy!reader

WORD COUNT: 1647

WARNINGS: angst, comfort, little spaces, usage of mommy/momma in a non sexual way, thunder, lightning, harsh rain, oral fixation, lactation (not really tho), think that’s all :)

This is inspired by the tornado warnings we keep having in my town sooooo :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!!

Sounds of thunder flashed through your ears along with the harsh rain, it didn’t scare you, but the woman in your arms disagreed. She didn’t like loud noises, it brought back memories she wished to never remember. You knew of her fear, even if she tried to hide it to her best ability.

She was embarrassed to say that she, a twenty-one-year-old woman, was scared of mother nature’s tears and screams. You weren’t, so why should she?

“You ready for bed, angel?” It was nearly fifteen minutes past her bedtime and, while you usually wouldn’t let her do such a thing, you knew having her cuddled up in your arms with her favorite movie playing calmed her down in such situations. Her eyes were locked on the window where she could see puddles forming along with strikes of bright light. She jumped, holding her stuffed bear closer to her chest.

“Wanda?” Your calling of her name caught her attention, causing her to whip her head in your direction.

“You ready for sleepy time?” You repeated, receiving a shy nod after moments of silence. She crawled to the end of the couch and raised her arms, giving you free roam to grasp onto her waist and lift her into your arms. Her legs simultaneously wrapped around your hips as she used one hand to hold your shoulder while the other loosely held onto the bear. You kept your hold on her bottom, securing her weight as she bounced ever-so-slight with each step you took.

“Would you like to sleep in my bed tonight?” You asked when settling her back down on the ground, tossing through her sets of pajamas until she stopped you on one of them. It had little seahorses with a pink background, and the words spelling “Sea you in the AM”, never failed to make her giggle. The shorts were a light blue and also adorned the little creatures on them.

“No, I’m okay.” She bit her lix anxiously, only to replace it soon after with her thumb as she suckled on the skin. You took a few steps and found yourself towering over her, giving her a hand to help her off the floor.

“Hey, stop that. Let me get you your paci, okay?” She nodded and, when your vision wasn’t rested on her, she quivered with fear from the loud, rippling noise that felt as though they were bursting through the walls.

“Here you go, baby.” You gave her a warm smile as her lips wrapped around the object, watching as it bobbed back and forth in her mouth.

You removed her current clothes and replaced them with the colorful set before helping her brush her teeth, praising her every few minutes for the small act. The softness you gave her almost made her forget about the one thing that had been haunting her all day, that was until you were getting ready to leave.

“Are you sure you don’t want to spend the night with me?” You asked when tucking her in, the pink comforter hiding the soft blanket underneath.

“I’m a big girl, mommy, I’ll be okay.” You removed the pacifier to let her speak, smiling to yourself at her soft-spoken words. You handed her the same stuffed animal she had been holding onto all day, brushing the small bit of hair that was blocking her face and getting small giggles to erupt from her mouth.

“Oh, does that tickle, hm?” She thrashed around as you continued your actions, this time on other parts of her body. She tried pushing your hands away but failed due to your overpowering strength.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” You announced after a minute or two of this. She let out rushed breaths with an occasional chuckle still leaving her.

“Remember, I’m right next door if you get scared-”

“I’m not scared!”

“I know, I know, you’re a big girl, you don’t get scared. But, still, you’ll come to me if you need me?” You stuck out your pinky finger which she latched onto with her own, giving a toothy grin when you kissed your interlaced fingers.

“Alright then. Sweet dreams, my love, sleep well.” You traveled your peck to her forehead and did the same to her bear, Raspberry. It was a silly name, really, but Wanda loved it to death. She brought it everywhere, not caring for the judgemental stares in public.

“And goodnight, Raspberry, sweet dreams.” You turned on the night light that was plugged into the wall right next to her bedside table, causing little stars to shine on the ceiling. You turned off the lamp and exited with a blown kiss sent her way, she acted as though she caught it and brought it close to her heart. Then, she plummeted into darkness, the scary sounds from outdoors hadn’t stopped yet and weren’t going to for the next few hours.

“It’s okay, Raspberry, Mommy said it won’t get us, we’re safe.” She jumped once again when the noise seemed to get closer, her breath quickening as her heartbeat felt as though it was in a race. She gulped fearfully, pulling the blankets closer to her face as if it would block out the fear. But it failed to do so.

“It won’t get us from here, we’re safe.” She repeated the words you told her only hours ago. The more she was alone the more she found herself falling into a deep headspace. She felt cloudy, but it was as if the clouds were grey and had bolts of lighting coming from them. She curled her knees into her chest, forgetting the paci you left for her on the nightstand and sucking on her thumb. It was a bad habit of hers that she never seemed to let go of, one that you tried to ease her out of.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity of sitting in her bed, crying and whimpering, hoping for it all to end, she gave in. She stood up on shaky legs, not caring to put on her fuzzy slippers as she rushed to your room, nearly tripping over herself before she knocked hurriedly on your door. She felt as though her chest was closing in on her, which only caused her to cry out more.

You were half asleep when you heard the noise, rushing out of bed as you instantly knew who it was. You opened the door right as she was about to knock again, your eyes locking with her sorrowful ones. She raced into your arms and you let her, rubbing her back softly as you shushed her softly.

“Shh, you’re okay, Mommy’s here.”

“M-Mommy?” She hiccuped, feeling your watchful gaze fall onto hers as you leaned back.

“That’s right, Mommy’s right here, you’re safe now.” She stuffed her head onto your shoulder, using her palm to wipe her tears as shame filled her.

“‘M sorry, Mommy, I thought I was a b-big girl.” You sat her down with you on the bed, letting her crawl onto your lap without complaint.

“Hey, don’t apologize, I understand. I’m not mad at you, okay?” She nodded, still not completely believing you.

“You’re such a brave and strong little girl, I’m so proud of you, baby.” You ran the pad of your thumb across her cheek soothingly, tears of your own starting to pool in your eyes as you listened to her whimpers.

“‘M so scared.” She mumbled, clawing at your back in order to keep you close. You kissed the side of her neck that was left uncovered, cooing softly as her hiccups continued. You patted her back as she bounced gently on your lap, causing a small yawn to tumble from her lips.

“I know, princess, I’m so sorry Mommy wasn’t there to protect you.” You knew she wanted to prove that she was able to do such things on her own and that she could keep herself safe, which was why you let her be and didn’t protest when she asked to sleep in her own bed. But you still felt a pang of roaming guilt, like you hadn’t done enough to keep her safe. All you ever wanted was to protect her from harm, yet you failed at doing so.

“C’mon, let’s get you into bed.” You laid her down softly, her body once again cuddling close into yours the moment you joined her.

“Please hold me, Momma.” You were already planning to do so before she asked. You placed one hand on her thigh that found itself resting over your waist, your free arm going to her back where you drew small shapes. Her stuffed animal was still clamped tightly in her hold, the fur pressing against your skin in feather-like touches.

Wanda played with the strap to your tank top, giving you a questioning look to which you nodded in response. She pulled down the clothing, your breasts freeing themselves and being hit by the cold air. She smiled giddily to herself before wrapping her lips around your hardened bud, feeling your fingertips that were placed on her back start to scratch softly at her scalp.

“Be careful with your teeth, baby.” You muttered when they brushed against your nipple, making a small gasp erupt out of you.

You noticed the tiredness in her eyes start to grow more as sounds drowned out, her only focus being on her caregiver. She felt blurry, and before she knew it, her eyes were closing for the last time that night. You grinned to yourself as she finally fell into a slumber, grabbing your phone as you played soft white sounds to cause calmness to float through her, even in her sleep.

“Goodnight, angel.” You kissed her forehead once more.

“Goodnight, Raspberry.” You kissed its forehead and sighed, letting your eyes close as you sunk into a deep resting state.

#wanda maximoff imagines #wanda maximoff comfort #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x gender neutral reader #wanda maximoff x reader fluff #wanda maximoff x reader smut #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x f!reader #wanda maximoff x reader angst #wanda maximoff x y/n #Wanda maximoff x mommy!R #little!wanda x mommy!R #wanda maximoff x gn!reader

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Trust (Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader)

Summary: You and Ghost have been captured for questioning. Loyal to a fault, you'll do anything to avoid seeing his face before he's ready to show you.

AN: I'm not immune to military propaganda. Nor am I immune to the babygirlification. In a slump writing wise so I gave this a go. I might try one with Soap next but no promises since it'll probably end up on the never-ending pile of unfinished fics.

Content warnings: Descriptions of torture, injuries as a result of torture, moments of vulnerability (aka 141 care for each other).

Reader uses they/them pronouns and is part of 141. Fic can be read as platonic or romantic.

Masterlist // AO3

A palm smacked across your cheek; the sting brought you back to consciousness. Screwing your eyes up, you tried to settle them in your skull so that you could take in your surroundings. Your hands and legs tied to a chair was what you noticed first. A fold-out table was a few feet out of reach in front of you.

Then, beyond that, a sliver of light in the roof – a hole, not a light bulb – dropped onto a body, bound like yourself and twenty feet away. The carved mask hiding the face was illuminated.

Your body wrenched against your restraints, “Hey!”

Another slap silenced you. You looked up at the offender you had somehow looked over. A lackey. No one you recognised from any intel or manilla folder or briefing, so you surveyed their appearance for just how much this soldier was trusted with.

Single gun on one hip.

KA-BAR on the other.

Kevlar vest that was more slack on the right shoulder.

More weapons that you had, now that your arsenal had been torn from you.

With the clanging of metal, a rectangle of light broke into the room. Room felt like the wrong word. This was too empty, echoey to be a mere room. A silhouette appeared in that light then vanished as the door closed behind them. Footsteps, slow and steady, approaching you, and the lackey left your side.

Ronin Foster bent at the waist to meet your unwilling gaze. He looked almost identical to the photo you’d been given in your briefing about him. One difference was clear: the burn mark running parallel to the left side of his chin. You couldn’t fathom where or how he’d gotten that injury, nor did you have a lot of time to look at it before Foster turned silently and unrolled a sleeve of weapons onto the table.

You caught Ghost’s eyes, the whites stark against the shadows and black paint. He didn’t avoid your gaze. He held it, and even when Foster stepped in the way, you felt that conflicted comfort you had grown to know in the presence of your Lieutenant and his masks.

The rest of the 141 were possibly being held elsewhere. Or they could’ve made it out. But it would take days to reconvene and organise a rescue mission.

This was your new home.

Your training did not desert you as your captor removed his gloves, tugging at the fingers to free them. One reached behind him and withdrew from his belt a gun.

Following the arc of his arm’s swing, his body wrenched around. A slash of agony struck your forehead against the butt of his gun. Your ears rung around the hollow of your skull like the bells of Notre Dame. The room wobbled as you righted your head. You couldn’t make out the details in Ghost’s mask anymore, not as Foster pulled off the skull plate and tossed it aside. Its clattering on the ground punctuated the air. Your gaze wavered against the dizzying disorientation as Ghost writhed to get away. But Foster was still unrolling the balaclava off his face. The second you saw a hint of Ghost’s chin, your eyes snapped shut.

Boots strode across the concrete. Suddenly your chin was grabbed up, no doubt facing your captor. Ghost’s gruff grunts boomed across the gap between you as he struggled against his restraints – that’s what you presumed, your eyes still closed.

But Foster was ignoring that side of the room blatantly, his grip crushing your cheekbones like he could wrench it off and throw it alongside Ghost’s mask. You narrowed your breaths to control yourself. While you couldn’t see, you couldn’t predict what could happen. But your defiance refused to let this awful man dictate when you saw Ghost’s face for the first time.

“Who told you about this place?” Foster asked quietly.

Nothing was heard from Ghost now, besides his breathing. You tried to match yours to his, pressing your lips together, your nostrils flaring against the throbbing pain.

Sharp pain splintered through your big toe, up your right foot. Your body fought the restraints and channelled your masked yelps into the bindings. Slowly, your chest puffed out all the air before sucking some back in.

“You’ve got at least nine more chances to tell me,” and Foster tapped his weapon – presumably the butt of his gun - against the rest of your toes. “Now tell me, how did you find this place?”

Between internal screams, you prayed that Ghost wouldn’t give up, and that his presence would give you the strength to do the same.

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

“Gambit, you still with me?”

You let out a hum, since it was all that your throat would allow. A sigh emitted from your Lieutenant. You couldn’t tell if it was relief or remorse. Sure, Ghost cared for you. You were on his team; it was in his job description to give the bare minimum amount of shits about you. However you could only hope that he gave as many as you did him. Or maybe now you hoped he didn’t, so that the mental barrier holding back the intel didn’t break so soon – or at all.

Your eyebrows raised and scrunched to stretch your face, but your eyes remained shut. Ghost hadn’t said a word about his mask being replaced and you doubted that Foster been kind enough to replace it between sessions.

The sound of the door opening reached you again; you could tell by the pattern of the foot fall that it was Foster. So, you cracked a joke in your head, that you were privileged that a terrorist with a notoriously busy schedule had made way for you and Ghost.

The laughter in your head was cut off when a fist yanked at the roots of your hair, forcing you to face the ceiling. Your eyes winced but still did not-

“Open.”

You waited for Foster’s response to your inaction.

A gloved hand suddenly grappled with your jaw, which was as clenched as your eyelids.

“Your mouth. Open it.”

Eventually, Foster managed to get it open long enough to pour something in. You choked on the first splash but began glugging it down once you realised that it was water and that Foster wasn’t pinching your nose. This wasn’t waterboarding. This was survival – extending your torture to reap its potential benefits. Thus you didn’t savour any of it nor save any to spit back in Foster’s face. Your torturer threw your head aside, strain twinging up your neck. A few seconds later, you could hear similar sounds – Ghost’s turn. That other benefit of not having to see whatever Foster was doing to Ghost. Unfortunately, your shoulders could not reach high enough to shield your ears.

A scrape from the table told you Foster had brought back his tools. Last time he was here, he’d tried to use them on Ghost. However since you weren’t opening your eyes, the effect was not as intended. As a reflex, you attempted to dissociate. One might think the injuries and blood loss might make it easier to fade away from your body. But no, the pain grounded you in your body. So it only made things worse when you found your jaw getting wrenched at again.

“Let them go!” boomed Ghost, causing your heart to ripple against your ribs. Him showing an ounce of care scared you more than Foster did. It meant something worse than before was coming and you were both getting close to breaking.

A bang shattered against your ear drums; the darkness before your eyelids grew a tad bit brighter. Your neck was sharply encircled by Foster’s arm, and your chin struggled against the crook of his elbow. Airway trapped, you were immobilised and drowning on dry land. The grip on you tightened, squeezing your eyes out of their sockets but still you held strong. If this was the last thing you did, you would not betray your friend.

The shouting began, all blended together, overwhelming your fractured mind. It grew and grew into a crescendo of bellows that shrilled with its urgency. Your mind bubbled at the edges a

Then it stopped. A snap. Foster’s weight dropped onto you. Something metal clattered onto the floor. Wet dribbled down your neck.

Thunderous absence of noise surrounded you, your weak attempts to suck in a deep breath barely a prickle in it. You hunched under Foster’s weight. There was no energy left to make a pitiful attempt to dissuade him. You were so encompassed by it that you failed to notice the approaching footsteps right up until you felt the air punctuated into your cheek by this new person’s presence.

A hand wiped at your forehead, lifting gently as it went.

“Gambit, you with me?”

You let out a sigh crossed with a laugh, “Gaz?”

Gaz replied with a chuff of relief, “Let’s get you home.”

The weight on your shoulders was yanked aside; your wrists felt an inch of relief as the plastic bindings were severed. There was din all around again: radio chatter, mumbled remarks about the location, and echoes around the concrete.

You tried raising your head to see “Ghost?”

“I’m here,” and his voice was oh so close now, “I’m here. You’re ok.”

Then you felt the binds on your wrists slacken completely. Your body tipped forwards and your head knocked into someone else’s.

“Gotcha.”

Ghost’s.

“You can open your eyes.”

Your grimy, sweat-stained skin rubbed harshly against his as he instructed you to open your eyes. Your whimper could not be contained as you shook your head:

“No. I don’t want to.”

“You need to open your eyes, Gambit.”

“Your face,” Your arm wavered, preventing you from emphasising your point, “I can’t.” And your body slouched further into him. True darkness took over the edges of your eyelids. The last thing you recalled was being caught by three hands and someone saying your name – not your callsign, but your name.

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

Your feet were in bandages, bones reset, though amputation was not out of the questions just yet. Turns out three days with sprains, breaks, and no toenails were not beneficial to you. It was a good thing that you had been carried to the helicopter and not made to walk

Stiff with lack of use, you deduced, and you didn’t try to wiggle them as you opened up your eyes. The bulbs above your bed burnt your sight; you winced away from them. Curtains surrounded your bed. They protected you from the shame you might’ve felt had anyone seen the state you were in. With a sigh, you willed yourself to sink into the mattress a little deeper and return to slumber.

However a set of approaching footsteps caught your ears. Then a gloved hand peeled back one of the curtains to reveal Ghost, his other arm still in a sling that was stark white against his normal gear and the basic black balaclava that was back where it belonged.

“Gambit,” he said, hesitating in the gap between the curtains before drawing them.

You went to say his alias, but you were halted by a sudden coughing fit. Your throat had decided now was a good time to curl up into sandpaper. At your side, Ghost held the cup to your lips. Your weak hands tried to take over holding it; Ghost’s firm ones curled around yours steady. His gloves were worn and rough like the calloused skin beneath, warm against your feeble fingers.

Once the coughing fit had abated, Ghost sat back in the chair adjacent to your bed whilst not quite making eye contact with you. Normally, he had no issues staring you down. Perhaps he had been worried about you.

Sniffing behind his mask, Ghost said, “You did good not giving up that intel.”

A compliment. He must have been really worried about you.

“As did you, sir.”

His eyes wavered towards the passing clogs beneath the dividing curtain as a medic passed by your section. Remaining rigid, he adjusted the inside of his hoodie pocket before speaking again.

“You should’ve opened your eyes. It might’ve helped you with Foster.”

“He’d’ve seen how I reacted to you. Gauged better how to get us to give up.”

How to get me to give up, you thought.

You continued quickly, “It’s better that he just had you. You’re better at controlling yourself than me.”

Ghost was silent for a while, and you were too. It was only a tad uncomfortable; you chalked it up to your injuries, your elbows being the only thing that really felt relief in this hospital bed. Perhaps that was what compelled you to explain him your reasoning further.

“I didn’t want to see you if you didn’t want me to.”

“You’ve seen my face before.”

“Hardly.” That was true for the most part. All you’d allowed yourself to see was one hell of a chin when Ghost lifted his mask up to eat or drink something in a mess hall. You concluded, “Showing your face is your call, Ghost. Not Foster’s or mine or anyone’s.”

His shoulders rose and fell with a deep sigh. Then Ghost grabbed the neck and peeled his mask up in one smooth motion, his chin on his chest. A shock of dirty blond hair – an inch of it pure white at the roots – was flattened against his scalp, until Ghost’s fingers combed through it twice. It matched his dainty eyelashes.

He looked back up at last. Your sight was stuck mainly on his eyes, still surrounded by their superhero mask painted onto his skin where the holes in his mask had been. Then you started making concentric circles around his face. Scars cut from the corners of his lips through his cheeks. Little ones dotted about his prominent nose, eyebrows, forehead, lips. A few bruises highlighted where Foster had gotten him.

You realised that you were staring with your lips parted and eyes wide so that you could commit his face to memory. But you couldn’t help yourself either.  

In short, your suspicions were confirmed: he was goddamn gorgeous.

He was just about to hide it away again, his matching skeleton gloves going to pull down his balaclava when you sat up quickly.

“Wait.”

Stilling, Ghost waited for you to speak again.

Your outstretched hand closed into a loose fist, “Just… Can I touch you?”

His reply was staggered with a blink, “Yes.” And he leant forwards with his elbows on his knees.

It struck you then why he was so unlike himself: he wasn’t here as Ghost.

The backs of your knuckles clumsily made contact with his right cheek, dragging down his jaw. Simon closed his eyes. His head tilted a fraction against your touch. Tears sprung free and tracked down your cheeks, contradicted by your smile that was brimming with the delight of being trusted.

“You’re right,” Simon mused when he opened his eyes, “Good thing you kept your eyes closed.”

“Yeah,” You sniffled. “But at least now I can tell Soap you’re not ugly.”

Scoffing, Simon tugged his balaclava back over his face and adjusted it to fit properly, “Fuckin’ hell.”

“How wrong he was,” you almost giggled with glee.

Even as the laughter ceased, your smile remained. And you could tell by the small crinkles at his eyes that Simon was too.

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

AN: In my head, Ghost has Marie Antoinette syndrome, but before he had sandy blond hair.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley fanfic #ghost x reader #simon riley imagine #cod x you #cod mwii fanfic #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mwii #cod mwii x reader #r: gn #wc: >2.5k #my writing

[romanoffsbish]

Roles Reversed

Natasha Romanoff (amab) x GN!R (afab)

Request

A/N: I have never really been interested in the concept of anal for my writing, but the request was sweet enough that I thought I’d give it a go. I did my research, and I hope it worked. This is meant to be soft!top Natasha (being pegged by R’s strap)

Smut: Hand Job / BJ | Anal — Butt Plug -> Strap | A 🤏🏼 of Degradation | Overstimulation |

Natasha had been waiting on you to come home for hours now, she was desperate for you after the interrupted blowjob of this morning.

——

What made matters this drastic was how you had sensually kissed her goodbye, hands still fondling with her member while your tongue caressed hers. Then you pulled away with a sad smile, and soft eyes meant to crush her hopes.

"It'll only be a couple hours Natty, I have to handle this stupid paperwork mishap, feel free to relieve yourself, but if you wait I have a surprise that'll be worth your while."

Natasha rolled her eyes playfully, normally she was the one to make the calls, but she saw a glint of sinful delight in your eyes that made her want to see what you had in store. So she spent the entire morning in bed, with a hard on that never fell because she couldn't get her mind off of you. Everything about you enticed her, so she was left to breathe through the pain.

So, it was no shock that when the sound of keys jingling in the door could be heard she was off the mattress and racing right into your arms.

"Kiss me, please." You chuckled lowly, it was very rare for you to get her this desperate. "ls that all you want baby, is for me to kiss you?"

Natasha's face warmed under your intense gaze, you watched as she struggled to speak and you wondered if that's how you looked whenever she topped. If so, then it finally made sense to you why she was always so eager.

Natasha cleared her throat, but it was clearly of no use as she softly stuttered, "N-no, I also want you to fuck me senseless, but a kiss sounded far more romantic."

Then she regained a bit of her senses as she pulled you in by the collar of your shirt, her lips slammed into yours but the confidence as well as the kiss were short lived as she gasped, and you smirked, effectively ending the kiss.

"A-Are you packing detka?" You gripped her by the hips and spun her around, pushing her into the door so you could press her into it further with your body to give a silent answer. Your lips pressed to the nape of her neck while you reached around to stroke her throbbing cock. "Thought I could finally peg you, I mean, how else would I even fuck you senseless baby?"

"Oh hush," she chided, her ass pressed back into you and you bit back an aroused moan at the pressure of the harness pushing into you. "Put your money where you mouth is detka."

Natasha's knees nearly gave out as you began to pump her cock in a way that muddled her mind, and briefly distracted her from the finger you trailed down her spine. Your nail teasingly trailed over the swell of her ass before you raised the hand to guide her face to yours.

Natasha smiled, but it was more like a grimace as the pleasure she felt with your hand alone was unbelievable. "Are you sure Natty?" The redhead nearly came right there, the way you cared for her always made her weak. "Yes."

While you continued to stroke her, pace picking up ever so slightly you'd also leaned in to kiss her rather sloppily. The redhead was panting into you as her climax neared, her body was tense, and mind distracted as you seamlessly used your free hand to reach into your purse to collect a mini shopping bag.

Natasha whined when your hand left her cock, she felt a wave of embarrassment over it, but she was grateful you didn't taunt her. You normally would, in a playful way, but you wanted her to feel nothing short of safe.

While your hands met on her backside you continued to kiss her, when she felt you part her cheeks with a firm hand her entire body tensed. "Relax baby, or it won't feel good."

Natasha nodded, then she pulled away to lean her forehead against the cold wood of the front door to calm her breathing some. You began to kiss over the heated skin of her neck to help. Once you felt her shoulders sag you pulled a bottle from your bag, and layered some lube over her puckered hole, as well as over the cooled metal of the iridescent butt plug.

Natasha gasped when you began to spread the liquid around, what was once cold and foreign, became warmed and welcome by your finger. With the opposite hand to before you were once again stroking her cock, trying to make her body relax further as you experimented.

It wasn't unexpected, but Natasha felt her mind go hazy as you broke that barrier, and just as soon as she regained her grip on reality you pulled out and replaced your finger with the tip of the prepped plug. A grin overtook your face when she pushed back, her body begging you to take the plunge, so you did and watched in awe as her tight hole swallowed it.

Natasha felt the coil in her lower belly snap, she moaned brokenly as she abruptly came. Her load was unending as her body reacted to the pleasurable stretching of her canal. She was overcome by the sensation, her hips rutted into your hand to prolong the feeling as she actually felt as her walls morphed around the intrusion. Your hand kneading her ball sack didn't help to staunch the flow, but it was clearly beneficial.

"I did it Nat," your teasing tone pulled her from the haze slightly, she croaked, "Did what?"

"I finally painted over the chips in the door."

Natasha burst into a fit of laughter, her head fell back against your shoulder as she let the humor of the moment pass over. Then after she'd calmed down some she wordlessly turned around and gently kissed your lips as her hand slipped into yours so she could move the party to your shared bedroom, and away from Liho.

Who'd been longingly staring out the window at the elderly woman across the street...

Once you made it to your bedroom it was a blur of limbs as Natasha hastily pulled your work clothes back off. Her blackened eyes, overcome by lust roamed over your physique hungrily, and her hand fell between your legs to survey the forest green strap. It was thin, and short.

"Detka, how about you finish what you started before you left." The words came off as if she was asking, but you knew better. Natasha was ecstatic when you fell to your knees, and took her already erect again penis into your hands. Cum coated your palms as you gave her a few teasing strokes, she cast you a warning glare, and then your lips wrapped around her tip.

Natasha allowed you a moment to adjust to her size before she took over, she placed a hand on your head, her fingers tightly gripped at your hair to hold you in place so she could fuck your throat until her load shot down it. Her pace was torturous, tears now streamed down your face as she was truly relentless with how deep she would thrust. "God I love your fucking mouth Y/N." You hummed at her praise, then you started to continuously hollow out your cheeks and that's when she finally lost control.

Once she'd come down, noticing your face with dribbles of her seed on your chin she smiled and eagerly pulled you back up onto your shaky legs, and directly into a kiss. Her arms wrapped around your waist, tongue slipping into your mouth so that she could taste herself as she effortlessly guided your body over to the bed.

"I'm ready to ride you detka," Natasha purred against the skin of your neck, her teeth sunk into your skin as desire controlled her wholly. Her hands gently shoved you back, your knees hit the side of the bed-frame causing you to tumble backwards, then look to her confused. "Lean against the headboard for me please."

Natasha grabbed the bottle of lube from your bag, then returned to you with fast hands as she prepped your strap before you could even process a thought. Then next thing you knew she was straddling your thighs, her cock already back to standing at attention.

"Pull it out detka," Natasha instructed as her lips found purchase against your throat. You were cautious as you brought your hands around her body to knead her cheeks in a moment of calm preparation, after a few seconds you parted her cheeks, and she began to kiss and nip at your skin nervously.

Then you felt her kisses become more insistent so you pressed a finger against the flat end of the plug causing it to momentarily press in deeper, Natasha sunk her teeth into your skin as a moan was ripped from her unexpectedly.

All at once you removed the sensationalizing piece of metal, and Natasha moved her lips up to yours in a feverish manner. There'd never been a moment where she lacked that feeling of desperation for you, but this was much more intense then any other time. This was a first for the both of you, and she was wildly turned on by the fact that you'd be the one to stretch her.

As the kiss got even sloppier, her tongue now exploring every inch of your mouth, her hands clumsily fell atop of your shoulders so that she could brace herself for the next step. Her mind was hazy with only speculation for what's to come, her labored breaths told you as much.

"Hold the strap steady for me detka," she hotly panted the soft command into your mouth once she could focus on the deeper, carnal need over the aching throb in her flushed cock.

The redhead took in a deep breath, then on the exaggerated exhale she sunk onto the silicone. "Holy shit," she shrieked, it was only the tip but it was painful nonetheless. You felt the way she tensed, so with your free hand you trailed your finger up her spine slowly, trying to distract her. Then you cupped her right breast while your tongue swirled around the nipple of her left and she sunk further as her head flew back.

Her entire body quivered when she had the entirety of your strap sheathed between the walls of her canal, a flash of something she could only describe as pure need coursed through her as the tip nudged her g-spot.

It was actually so intense she was shocked that only a spurt of cum left the tip of her cock, she was sure she should've busted all over you. It was all she wanted to do, and now that she'd been bottomed out for a few minutes she's felt her body leaning into the pleasure over the pain of the stretch. Which is why she began to rock her hips experimentally, her nails dug into the exposed skin of your shoulder as she felt the urge to move faster, making you groan out in mutual pleasure. It was a sinful echoing.

The pace the redhead set was docile in nature, but as the pit in her stomach began to tighten she felt the urge to pick it up. To give into the carnality of the moment, and chase down what was meant to be the best orgasm of her life.

It wasn't much shock to her that she'd ended up doing most of the work. You were clueless. Natasha smirked at the sight of your dilated pupils, you were incredibly dumbfounded by just how hot she looked riding your strap, it was amusing, but it was also not helping. "Detka." You instantly met her gaze, obedient and desperate to please her as always. "Stroke my cock, go on, be useful and do your part."

When your hand had barely wrapped around her shaft she knew it wouldn't be long at all. Your fingernail barely scraped over one of her thick, throbbing veins and she burst instantly, drenching your abdomen with her seed as she spewed like a damaged park water fountain.

Natasha cried against your shoulder as her high overwhelmed her entirely. The euphoria that she felt was next level, and she knew now that this was not the end of experimenting. It could only get better from here, but for now she needed to stop you from thrusting up.

Fortunately for her you came second's later, hips stilling as your own orgasm ran its course and offered her the oh so necessary reprieve.

"You did good moya lyubov'," she rasped, hand inching up to behind your neck so she could pull you into a deep kiss that broke off fast as your lungs burned with an incessant need for oxygen. "Careful detka," she winced as your hips moved the strap against her sensitive walls, as you had just moved to lean back.

You froze, a frown forming when you realized she was definitely overstimulated. "I'm sorry." Natasha shook her head, a wide grin covering the momentary grimace. "It's okay, I know you would never hurt me detka, don't freak out."

Natasha guided you both slowly onto your sides, your faces now parallel as she worked her way into shimmying off of your strap. It took a few repetitive, deep breaths, mixed with the feel of your soft lips marking up her chest for her to feel comfortable removing herself.

"How do you feel?" Natasha smiled genuinely, her hand reached down to find yours so she could pull it to her lips for a tender kiss. "I have never felt so good in my life, and I'm so happy to have embarked on this journey with you."

"What do you need most right now Natty?" You leaned forward to softly kiss the tip of her nose, resulting in a huff when you skipped her pout. "For you to come back here with those lips."

You released a humored sigh before allowing her to pull you back in for a sweet moment. It was full of soft touches, and calmed hearts. Neither of you felt a need for more, there was a contentment in leaving the carnality behind.

"Shall I run you a bath my love?" Natasha quickly shook her head from side to side. "In a few minutes, for now, please let me hold you."

You easily complied, rolling over, and pressing your ass back into her limp cock, and eliciting no reaction from the hibernating appendage. The redhead wrapped her arm around your waist and held your back flush to her chest. She smiled, feeling nothing but comforted with you in her arms, where you belonged. It was silent until you began to hum a Russian lullaby to further soothe her— she then melted entirely.

——

2,498 Words

❤️ K 😮‍💨

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff fic #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x gender neutral reader #gxg #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha x fem!reader #natasha x gn!r

[lovesickeros]

☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 3 ]

{☆} characters neuvillette, wriothesley, furina {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings none {☆} word count 1.9k {☆} previous [ 1 ] [ 2 ]

Wriothesley was not a man of superstition. He did not kneel at the altars until his knees bled, he did not pray until his voice gave out– he did not, contrary to popular belief, suffer divine punishment for his apparent lack of respect.

After all, what Divine would look so deep beneath the waves just for a glimpse of the sinners that inhabit it?

Not them, evidently.

He hadn't slept in the past four days, though. There was a heavy air of something where ever he walked– it followed him like a thick fog, lingering and choking him until it dragged him to his knees like a chain. His thoughts inevitably linger on the striking, extravagant letter so conveniently adorning his desk at the fortress– the broken wax seal, the letter tucked into his pocket.

He'd recognize the seal of the Iudex any day. Wasn't often he spoke to him– but the shaky, distorted words hastily etched into the paper made him pause. Neuvillette always had a steady hand– elegant, flowing script that him of flowing water.

It had kept him up for days.

The implications were..haunting. He'd poured over the letter for hours, illuminated only by faint light of his desk lamp. Yet no matter how many times he tries to see what must be hidden beneath the ink, the paper itself even, he finds nothing but the shaky script of a request that sends a bolt of pure frost through his veins.

He noticed, of course, the odd goings on of Fontaine. He'd heard vague whispers of the Divine's hunt for the imposter– he'd heard, too, of the ceaseless rain pelting Fontaine until even he wondered if the nation would finally sink beneath the waves.

It didn't, though. And that only made it all the more odd. Days of constant rain, just for it to stop suddenly..he tugged his coat tighter around him, throwing up the hood of the cloak clasped even tighter over it with a grunt as he leaned around the corner of the alleyway.

He didn't believe in superstition, but this was too hard to ignore as a simple weather anomaly.

Maybe that was why he ignored his gut– he knew that this was probably a trap, at the very least it was suspicious. But damn it, he couldn't ignore the instinct to follow the only lead he had.

His boots clicked against the rain stricken streets as he stalked through the shadows, mindful of the clinking of machine patrols just a few streets away. Yet every step felt heavier then the last as he took a long, good look at the Palais Mermonia. He almost considered bringing out his gauntlets, but he thought better of it– if it came down to it, he needed information. And he would need whoever was waiting for him alive for that– the dead don't speak and all that.

The letter's directions led him in a..rather roundabout entrance to a secluded room, evidently, as he lifted his hand and quietly knocked against the door. Two rapid knocks, pause, another knock, pause, four knocks. It doesn't take long until he hears the latch of the door unlock.

The leather of his gloves creaks as he clenches his fists, adjusting his stance. He's ready for a fight, if he must, but as the door quietly slides open he feel the weight on his shoulders relax slightly– the familiar, sharp features of Neuvillette meets him. He almost reflexively smiles at the way his pupils turn into thin slits, a momentary surprise that he quickly hides well behind a cough and the creak of the door as he pulls it open fully.

"Wriothesley. I see my letter has found you well. Please, come in." Polite as ever, Neuvillette steps aside to let him in, but he can see the exhaustion lining his features– the bags under his eyes aren't as well hidden as he thinks, at least to him. "Bit odd to be inviting me all the way out here in the middle of the night, don't you think?"

His tone is smooth as he steps into the room, brushing down his hood and glancing at Neuvillette over his shoulder, watching as he shuts and locks the door behind him.

"I apologize for the..less then ideal circumstances, but I'm certain you will understand when you see for yourself." He wants to retort, but the Iudex beats him to it, vaguely motioning to the room behind him. An invitation– but he wonders if it's worth taking.

His gut says no, but he's feeling a little risky today, he supposes.

He turns back slowly, barely able to make out the two figures he'd missed on the first glance on the other side of the room– though it's hard to mistake the flourish of the Hydro Archon, even in the dark. It's the other figure that makes the breath hitch in his throat, though.

Or maybe, more accurately, it freezes. So does his blood, his whole body even, locked in stasis for a long, tense moment– he can't see them clearly, but his instincts are going haywire. He can feel his vision almost rattle where it rests against his left shoulder, cold leaking through the layers of clothes and into his skin until he has to fight to suppress a shiver.

He'd always fancied himself the hunter– he was the one who dealt with unsavory folks, in the end. But he felt like a rabbit pinned beneath the crosshairs of a gun this time. He could almost feel the teeth of the bear trap snapping shut around him, crushing bone and flesh beneath cold metal.

For a long moment he thinks he feels fear.

And with a sharp click and a burst of light, it's gone and he takes a raspy, choked breath as he blinks away the blurriness in his vision, taking in the room illuminated by the lamp.

He's not sure what he sees is better, though.

Because his body knows that their Divinity is as real as the blood running through his veins.

So why do they remind him so much of himself? Why does he see the look of the boy who died in a pool of blood not his own in them?

It is a sick, cruel kind of familiar.

Wriothesley didn't believe in superstition– but that was born of the unknown. He knew, now. He could reach out and touch the truth with his own two hands.

The throne of the world was a lie.

The thing sitting on it bled red. And if it bled, it could die.

He clenched his fists tighter– and released, letting his shoulders slump with a huff and a half hearted chuckle. "I wasn't expecting you to be in possession of a wanted criminal when you sent me that letter." He could see the gears whirring in their heads, the subtle dampness in the air reminding him just how delicate a situation it truly was.

He wasn't particularly inclined to getting blasted by a jet of water today.

"Relax, I'm not going to spill to anyone else. Seriously– don't get my jacket wet. It's expensive and a nightmare to dry." His lips quirk into a half smile, but it twists into something almost genuine at the laugh covered up by a cough he hears from the Divine. Bingo.

"It's fine, Neuvillette. Let him go." Their voice is like honey dripping from their lips, and he has to close his jaw with his hand before they can see the way it dropped in his surprise. "Of course, most Divine. My apologies." He relaxes at the sharp click of his heels as he joins them on the bed, his posture far more relaxed then he's ever seen. The Hydro Archon, much to his confusion and amusement, is far too invested in playing with their hair to pay much attention to him now that things have calmed, evidently.

Huh.

They seemed pretty cozy about it, he noted. He guesses they three of them had some time to get acquainted.

"So..who's going to explain what the hell is going on?" He probed, crossing his arms over his chest and watching the three carefully– they all looked tired, but even through the exhaustion neither seemed inclined to stray too far from the Divine. "And what exactly your plan is? You can't keep hiding them here forever. Someone will sniff them out sooner or later."

"We are aware," Neuvillette interjects, lips pursed into a thin line and his thin brows furrowed. "But as I'm sure you've noticed, the hunt for the..forgive me, most Divine, but the hunt for the alleged imposter is still at it's peak."

He grumbles in acknowledgment, hanging up his cloak by the door and sliding out of his heavy coat, resting it over the back of a nearby chair. "Hm. Suppose that's why the patrols are so common now a days."

"I'm afraid so. As you can imagine, we cannot simply ask them to..stop the search. It would draw unwanted attention and suspicion. The Divine would be found immediately if we tried to bring them out of the city at the moment." Neuvillette added, looking proper and elegant, despite the circumstances– even in the face of the Divine and the Archon turning on him and tugging his hair into intricate braids. "So I hope you understand that it was a great risk to send you that letter."

He rubs his chin, huffing in amusement– a solid plan, maybe, but his power didn't extend too far out of the Fortress. He had his connections, sure, but what use were they when he had to get the, uh, "imposter" out of Fontaine? Smuggling them out wouldn't be easy, and then there's the point of where to take them they'd have to contend with.

"Yeah, yeah– I get it. But it's not like I can just smuggle them out or keep them in the fortress. Even if we got them out of the city, we'd have to find somewhere to bunker down, and if someone spots any of us lingering there.." Archons, what a mess he'd gotten himself into. He was really looking forward to the next time he could kick his feet up with a cup of tea.

"I understand. I have already made plans, in fact." Neuvillette hesitates, and he can feel the temperature drops a few degrees. "I..cannot share them in full at the moment, but it is not for a lack of trust." Neuvillette reasoned, hands folded neatly in his lap– not that it hid the way they shook slightly. He wanted to ask, but he thought better of it.

"Eh, I don't hold it against you. The walls have ears, even up here." He deflected, running a hand through his hair. He really hoped Sigewinne wouldn't ask too much when he gets back. "I trust your judgment." He hesitates for a long moment, pulling out a simple, neatly folded letter of his own.

"Memorize the code words, then burn it. I'll be waiting for your next letter." He murmurs, plucking his coat and cloak and tugging them back on one after another, shuffling back over to the latched door. He hesitates again, his hand lingering on the door.

"I just hope your plan is worth the risk, Neuvillette."

He leaves before he can respond, the harsh click of the door ringing in his ears even as he steps back into the shadows of the night.

#sagau #genshin sagau #self aware genshin #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin impact #imposter au #genshin cult au #genshin impact cult au #furina #neuvillette #wriothesley #furina in the back just awkwardly sitting there bc she aint fighting wrio KHSDKHFKHJ #she was there for his trial when he killed two adults as a CHILD shes not fighting the adult version no ty #also writing reader to be as lowkey eldritch horror as possible. they r just playing nice rn but :) #reader collecting fontaine chars like pokemon cards #anyway wow i wonder what his plan is...wonder who it is he's involved besides wrio.......haha #cough cough #:] #looks at my other fics. haha.........ha.... #anyway #slowly bringing in the key players one by one but it's probably gonna be in multiples now #if u guess correctly who neuvi is making plans w u get a lopsided gold star sticker that says “good job!” :] #i promise the lore will make sense soon (it wont im making it up as i go along) #if u see any typos no u didnt #zzzzzzzzzzzz gn #fic tag

[sinfullyrosey]

Aggressive Affection

A concept:

The tweels being roughly affectionate with their partner, but not in a r*pey kind of way. More like in the “I love you so fucking much that I can’t contain all this newfound overflowing affectionate I have for you so let me just nom on you in the hopes that you understand even a fraction of my love towards you” kind of way.

Like, Floyd loves loves loves biting and marking his partner, especially when they squirm beneath him. Loves it even more when when his partner huskily asks him to bite harder. Rough them up a little more. Squeeze their thighs rougher. They writhe and whine for him to not hold back and to just use them as a chew toy already! He toothily grins down at them and coos over how much smaller they are compared to him, how so much more tiny and fragile they are, how much he loves his little shrimpy and loves the sounds they make. Like a prey squealing as he devours them.

Jade is much more reserved compared to his twin... at first. Oh, he tries to keep up appearances, but even he can’t hold back his natural instincts forever. Eventually those soft touches and lingering caresses turn into the desire to latch down his maw onto supple skin, to mark them and hear them keen. His teeth itching and aching with desire. His much taller frame looming over his tiny partner, bending down to properly flash his dangerous smile at them, sending a shiver down their spine, before nuzzling into their neck and giving little nips. 

And that’s not even accounting for their eel forms. Adds a whole new flavor to their unconventional affection. Their tails wrapping around their partner, gently squeezing at first, before tightening more and more, pressing against sensitive spots along their skin. Either twin leaving bite marks on any exposed skin and pressing themselves as close to their partner as possible. It’s positively primal how unrestricted they are towards them, trilling and growling all the while.

This same behavior extends to their instinctual need to protect their mate, to ward off any fool who didn’t get the memo that they’re taken. RIP to anyone who makes the unfortunate mistake of harassing, or worse, assaulting their partner. That person is gonna become nothing but bloody chum. Also RIP to anyone who accuses either twin of being a “hypocritic” and accusing them of ever purposefully harming their partner against their will. Such slander is just asking to get squeezed.

Actually, hold on-

Gonna get some of the others in on this since I’m on a roll.

Leona, the lazy ass, nuzzling into his partner as he uses them as a pillow, rubbing his face against theirs. A deep rumble reverberates from deep in his chest, causing their body to shake in response. The lion just keeps pressing himself against them, putting all his weight on them, pushing them further into the mattress. His ear twitches at the sound of their muffled protests and giggles to get off. But he doesn’t, yawning in his partner’s face and instead licking his rough tongue lazily along their skin. Their quiet moans fill his bedroom as his licks turn into nips and gentle bites at their neck.

Malleus is the worst one once he’s reached a certain point in the relationship, becoming much more openly affectionate. Nuzzling his partner’s neck and chuckling at their little squeak when he lifts them up to hold them. His wings and tail present and wrapping around his partner, caging them against him. Their view blocked by only the sight of the dragon fae grinning down at them mischievously. His tail pulls them closer in his embrace, cooing at the size difference between him and their child of man. Clawed hands begin to wander...

Azul refusing to let his partner see his octo form, reserving himself more so than Jade, limiting his affection to simple hand holding and pecks on the cheek. And yet he still finds himself in his original form, tentacles coiling themselves around his partner, wrapping around them and clutching onto them in desperation. Almost afraid that if he let them go, they’ll leave forever. The suckers are glued to their skin, further trapping them to him. All eight tentacles pull his partner closer to him, pressing them against him. Much like Malleus and his wings, Azul’s tentacles serve as a blanket of inky black, only allowing his partner to see darkness and the bright blue of the octomer.

#Twisted Wonderland #TWST #Suggestive #Floyd Leech X Reader #Jade Leech X Reader #Leona Kingscholar X Reader #Malleus Draconia X Reader #Azul Ashengrotto X Reader #GN!Reader #me lowkey venting 'cause it should NOT be this difficult to find fics that don't write the tweels as r*pists #I'm all for the characters being rough but come on #I wanted to go more into detail with other forms of aggressive affection #but got nervous since this is such a personal niche of mine and I felt most people wouldn't get it

[dhrubajjj]

[DAY 6] - gingerbread

i can imagine riddle never got to do any fun holiday stuff as a child

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst art #dhrubajj art #twst fanart #disney twst #twstecember2023 #twstecember #riddle #riddle rosehearts #twst riddle #him and his mom r in the house as gingerbread men if u noticed #i was gonna have them outside holding hands like they were a happy family like riddle wants them to be buttt yk #its more fun to see him suffer #okay gn tumblr