#the original one was pulled too far up and it was uncomfortable to look at tbh

[mypoisonedvine]

𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺 | ghostface!darren (pig) x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | he probably wasn't even invited to this party, because who would invite him? but he came anyways... just to torment you. far more than you could've imagined, in fact.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 | 2.5k

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | NONCON DARK SMUT 18+ ONLY!!, public sex, degradation, pain kink, knife kink, a bit of predator/prey, blood kink, smoking, unprotected sex/implied risk of pregnancy, darren is kind of an incel lmao

It was a pretty traditional high school party— overcrowded, loud and sweaty, bad music and worse liquor— but at least the sea of costumes, ranging from scary to silly to sexy, added at least some new layer of interest to the whole thing.

You hadn’t tried very hard with your devil costume— more accurately an attempt at a ‘sexy devil’ costume— but you put on horns and heels with a tight red dress and nobody can really complain.  You weren’t really here to get into the ‘spooky spirit’ or whatever anyways, just an excuse to drink and maybe chat with some people you’d been missing.

The person you ended up chatting to right in that moment, though, was exactly the last person you wanted to talk to.

You didn’t even know there was someone behind you until you felt him press up to your back, suddenly hovering right by you.  “Want a drink?” he asked, shoving a cup towards you, but you were too busy nearly jumping out of your skin to care— you almost knocked the drink over, actually some of it did splash onto another partygoer, but she was too drunk to notice.

“Fuck!” you yelped, turning to see the gangly boy behind you.  “Christ, Darren, do you have to always sneak up on a girl like that?”

He just smiled and tried to offer the drink to you again.

“M’already holding one,” you pointed out with a frown, “didn’t ya notice?”

“O-oh yeah,” he mumbled, lowering the cup finally.  “Costume looks good.”

“Thanks,” you shrugged, though you suddenly felt the urge to tug down the bottom of your dress.

“You’re not worried what the boys are gonna think with you dressed like that?” he asked, and you glared at him as you shoved his shoulder.  

“Don’t you think before you open your fuckin’ mouth?” you spat.  “What are you, anyway?”

The black robes didn’t really tell you anything— not until he reached behind his head and pulled a Ghostface mask over his face.

“Oh,” you snorted, “not the most original, is it?”

“Don’t like t’movie?” he wondered as he pulled the mask back again.

“I mean, it’s pretty good,” you relented, “but—”

“You wanna fuck ‘im, don’t you?” he insisted suddenly with a lascivious grin. 

“What?” you squinted.

“Ghostface,” he clarified, “you’re one of the girls who thinks he’s fit, yeah?”

“Why are you always such a creep?” you asked him with a grimace, but then you decided to change the topic quickly.  “Kinda thought you’d be a pig or something,” you admitted, “with the nickname and all.”

“Nah, that’s stupid,” he rolled his eyes, crossing his arms— which made you notice the prop knife in his hand.  It actually looked pretty good, shinier than most plastic costume knives.

Just then, Jimmy O’Doyle sauntered up beside you, slipping his arm around your shoulders.  “Ay, little devil,” he greeted, flicking the red horns on your head as you smiled sheepishly.

He hardly acknowledged Darren, spare for a quick nod, but Darren was staring at Jimmy for a little too long before he looked at you again.

“Thought you said you didn’t want a boyfriend,” Darren said sharply, glowering a bit.

Jimmy scoffed and you shifted uncomfortably; Darren tended to be… what’s the word… desperate?  Clingy?  Overall bizarre?  He certainly couldn’t take much of a hint.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you said first, though that didn’t really matter— you didn’t need any reason to reject Darren, outside of your natural self-preservation instinct.  He actually wasn’t bad-looking, but it was hard to tell past those leering eyes and the uncomfortable smile.  He wasn’t smiling now though… he looked quietly enraged, sipping pointedly on his drink as he glanced away for a moment.  

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” Jimmy smirked at you, hardly waiting for your nod before disappearing back into the crowd.

Suddenly, as you felt Darren’s livid gaze from awkwardly close, you decided that you needed a little fresh air.  And by that, you really meant a cigarette.

Not wanting to tell Darren that you were going outside for a smoke, you instead mumbled some excuse about going to the loo— somewhere he was just sane enough not to follow you to— and bumped through the crowd until you found a door out into the neighbourhood.

There was a slight drizzle still going outside— more of a misting, really— that made everything all foggy and grey, spare for the yellow-y glow of the streetlamps dotting the way.  It wasn’t a full moon, as cool as that would be, but near to one… regardless, it wasn’t visible behind low, dark clouds, leaving the night starless and dreary.  There wasn’t much to look at in the alley as you lit your cigarette and took slow drags from it, so as you stared blankly forward at brick walls with chipping whitewash, your mind wandered a bit.  Nothing of great merit: upcoming assignments, the possibility of an afterparty, the lingering hope you could find a steamy hook-up for the night… you didn’t just put this outfit on for the pictures.

Before you could get too far into your imagination, you were startled by a distant sound, jumping slight as your head turned towards it— but it was just the dark alley, not much to see.  You squinted, trying to make out movement in the shadows, but for quite a while you couldn’t see anything.

Only when you turned your head back forward with a shrug was there any sign of what you’d heard, just a shift in the corner of your eye.  You looked at it again, and you hated to admit it, but your heart froze up for a second when that white face emerged from the darkness.

Of course, you gave your best unaffected scoff when you actually processed what you were looking at.

“Quit it, Darren,” you warned, willing your voice to sound stable as you shouted down the road towards him, “you’re not gonna scare me.”

You watched him move closer, stepping into the light so you could see him better, and tried to ignore the way the hairs on your neck stood up.  If he knew he was getting to you, he’d just keep doing it; you rolled your eyes and took a drag through your cigarette to try to seem nonchalant… but you had to stop your hand from shaking just a bit.  Only because it was chilly out, surely…

You thought it was a joke— a stupid joke, but still just a joke— until he dragged his knife along the brick wall as he stalked toward you.  The sharp, high-pitched screech of metal against stone was unmistakable… and that was how you realised it was a real knife.  A very sharp, very real knife; he’s going to actually kill me, you thought, just before you let out a primal and instinctive scream.

Turning on your heel, you ran as fast as you could.  Each rapid pulse of your heart pumped adrenaline through your veins, and you felt so shaky that you worried the light night breeze would knock you over.  

These were far from running shoes, though— they were pretty excruciating to just stand in, actually— and it was only a few blocks of a chase before you tripped.  Yelping in pain, you tried to scramble up or even crawl forward… but just as you rolled over and winced from landing on your hip, you saw him stalking forward into the flickering light of a streetlamp.

He was probably just going to take the mask off and laugh at you, right?  Reveal the whole thing was a silly prank and the knife was fake and that he just wanted to prove you were scared of him.  Yes, that would be the most sane thing for him to do at that moment, even after being so not-sane by chasing you with a knife.  Instead, as you tried to crawl back, he just tilted his masked head curiously at you, and with his free hand reached down and palmed at his groin.  He was hard— you could see the outline of it through his costume, his hips rocking forward slightly into his palm as you heard a muffled hiss from his mouth.

He knelt down and grabbed your kicking legs, roughly yanking you closer and hovering above you menacingly.  “C’mon and scream for me,” he ordered with a delighted purr, pulling his mask back, laughing when what came out of you was more of a wail or sob instead.  “Louder, y’little whore—”

“Get off me!” you shrieked, trying to fight him away, whining as he laid down over you instead and licked your neck.  You turned your head with a grimace, shuddering as his weight pinned you against the slightly-damp pavement.

“G’na show Pig how tight the little hole gets when you’re scared— aren’t ya, fuckin’ slut?”

“Be serious, Darren— s’not funny, get away from me!”

You struggled less when he flashed the knife; as little as you could, in fact you actually nearly froze as he teased you with it, running the tip down the front of your dress with just enough pressure to pop a few sequins off, making you whimper in terror.  He laughed, though— a small, dark, chuckle.  “Quiet now,” he noticed.  “Don’t make a fuss, sweetheart.”

You had to bite your lip to hide a shout, though, when a gloved hand up slipped under your short dress, grabbing greedily at your lacy panties.  He licked his teeth, bared by his grin, as he stared at you with those haunting eyes of his.  “Wet, aren’tcha, girl?” he taunted— not that he’d be able to feel it through his black gloves, but past your own groaning you could almost hear it (though you tried not to).

“You’re such a creep!” you spat, though you tried to regulate your tone as you glanced at his knife again, held against you by one of his hands on your arm; maybe part of you still thought he would stop and admit it was a joke, but the darkness in his stare made you doubt that more and more.  The gravity of the situation still hadn’t really set in yet— sure, you were coursing with fear and had goosebumps all over, but it didn’t totally feel real.

“Won’t take too long,” he promised with a sigh as he hastily tugged his costume out of the way, still pinning you down with one hand (if not as effectively).  When he roughly yanked his cock out, proudly brandishing it between your legs as your eyes went wide… that’s when it felt real.

“Don’t,” you gasped instantly, looking up at him with pleading eyes.  “Don’t, Darren, please— you can’t—”

“Shh,” he hissed quickly, “s’good— gonna feel good, alright?”

He gasped loudly as he pushed inside you, eyes shutting tight before he dropped his head down onto your chest.  “Fuck, girl— what’s a whore cunt so tight for?”

Not wasting any time, he pulled his hips back and roughly thrusted forward into you again, making you choke on your cry.

“S’for me, isn’t it?” he decided with a sick sort of grin.  “Want Pig to feel good?  Like t’squeeze the thick cock, don’t ya?”

“I— I fuckin’ hate you,” you whimpered, shutting your eyes tight, in disgusted disbelief that this was happening— that it was him inside you, holding you down.  But you couldn’t forget it, not with him moaning and purring above you, mumbling stuttered praises… and the feeling of it, it was impossible to ignore, as much as you hoped to somehow.  It was a deep stretch, each thrust making your chest tighten out of more than just fear.

“Mmf, fuck,” he grunted, holding onto you tighter— another reminder he still had that fucking knife.  “Pretty— it’s a pretty thing… it’s warm inside…”

Grimacing, you hated the way your body responded to his lewd comments about it; your walls clenched on him slightly, you could tell by the way you felt even more sore inside than before.

He pressed the knife up against your neck, growling in amusement at your wince of fear.  “Think Pig’s gonna slice you?”

“I… I don’t know,” you stammered out your answer, eventually.

“Waste of a pretty face, no?” he smirked, moving the knife up and caressing the side of your face with it— not that it could really be called a caress, all rigid and cold like that… “Say please.”

“Huh?”

“Say please,” he repeated, “beg me not to hurt you.”

“Already are,” you sneered at him, but he pressed the knife to your neck with a little more intention— a little more pressure, a wild look in his eyes suddenly— as he insisted again.

“Wanna hear you beg,” he spat.  “Do it or Piggy might hurt you worse.”

“Please, please,” you whispered shakily, shutting your eyes.  “Please don’t, Darren…”

You gasped sharply as he pressed the knife down just enough to draw a thin line of blood, only to pull the blade away and lick hungrily at the wound.  Feeling dizzy and sick, you winced at the sting of his tongue lapping at your pierced skin, lips wrapping around and suckling as teeth dug painfully into your pulse.

He thrusted faster, recklessly so, and bit down on his lip as he breathed heavier.  You were too focused on how painfully deep he was going to really process anything when he started to slow down— that is, you felt that he was slowing down, and didn’t think for a minute about why he was slowing down.  

His loud, low groan gave it away; you snapped back to reality and looked up at him in a new kind of fear.  “Fuck, Darren, did you just—?!” you whimpered, squirming harder as you realised what he’d done.

“Shh, shh,” he soothed you sharply, hissing as he grabbed a tight hold of your hip.  “Stay fuckin’ still, girl— fuck, I’m still coming—”

You yelped and tried harder to fight him off, but he kept you pinned down easily, even forcing you into a rough and sloppy kiss.

He sighed into it after a second, relaxing on top of you until it was a little hard to breathe under his weight.  You whined and tried to break away, but the hand with the knife still in it held your jaw, the cold metal pressing threateningly against your face.

Whimpering and blinking up at him, you met his icy gaze and he smiled proudly down at you.  “Little devil, eh?” he smirked as he toyed with your horned headband, which had become quite dishevelled from all the running and struggling.  “Your blood matches the outfit— poor whore, red all over…”

“Darren,” you choked, fighting a sob of disbelief as you felt him pull out of you with a hiss— a steady, sticky leak giving away how much he’d come.  “What the fuck did you do?”

“Don’t be fussin’, girl, like I said,” he rolled his eyes, though he was still grinning wide.  “Ready to go back to the party now?  Or do you just want Pig to take y’home, sweetheart?” 

#darren pig x reader #disco pigs #cillian murphy x reader #darren pig smut #darren pig dark!fic #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy dark!fic

[yanderismo]

Yandere Platonic Superman Concept/Idea (?)

BRO, BRO, I DON'T KNOW IF I LOVE OR HATE MY MIND FOR GIVING ME IDEAS THAT I'LL NEVER START OR FINISH. But okay, I have an idea for a platonic yandere Superfam, maybe it involves Batfam or the entire DC universe. I think this is more platonic yandere Superman. Let's go. (using the translator, be kind to me please 😭) 

— Imagine that you are originally from the Injustice universe. You were a neutral young/teen heroine who wasn't at all interested in siding with Batman or Superman. Well... that neutrality of yours had consequences, and now, somehow, Superman and Batman were in a bloody tug of war to get you on their side. And you are the cable they are selfishly pulling. And one day that cable would break, and that's what happened to you, you broke it. So broken that I would consider it irreparable. 

— But luckily for you (bro, are you lucky?), after so much physical and mental suffering, you ended up in a way that I won't explain, in the original DC universe. In other words, no superheroes is crazy tyrants. Too bad you don't know that (yet).

— You were living as if the world was a danger to you (just like it was in Injustice). But you discovered that you were REALLY in a different universe or timeline when you met Lois Lane, the woman who drove Superman insane after her death. And it shocked you, you thought maybe you had gone back in time. And as reckless as it was, you felt hope that you could stop the future of Injustice from happening, stop Lois Lane from being murdered! After all, you were still a hero, even if you had probably lost half of your original universe's neurons.

 — So you made a decision. You decided to protect Lois Lane! You practically become her protective shadow. Being noticed wouldn't do any good, and for SO FEAR of being confronted by Superman/Clark for apparently stalking his wife, you stopped watching her when Clark showed up and you went back when Clark left. (In your head, this Superman is the same Superman from Injustice, just before Lois' death happened). You were wary as hell of all the heroes. Anyway, a lot of trauma caused by Injustice.

— And I believe that Lois, even if she was a civilian, would notice that she was being watched (or maybe you're just not very good at stalking because you're a very young heroine). Whatever it is. Lois noticed and she became cautious (she is a journalist, there are many people who may not like her to the point of committing atrocities), as you could be a threat to her life. Although you haven't revealed yourself as any threat so far.

 — But let's suppose there were events in which she was in danger (actually, it was just something like shelves falling, preventing her from being run over, preventing some rabid dogs from biting her, small things), events in which you managed to remain hidden, however Lois knew it was You, her strangely protective stalker. Lois was trying to know your intentions and work it out for herself, so she didn't say anything about it. If this is something much more than she can handle, Clark can always lend a little help. 

— But on another one of those times when she was in danger, you desperately saved her (the situation was quite dangerous, more than normal), asking if she was okay and everything. Lois was surprised, you were surprised. Before you know, the idea of staying in the shadows went down the drain. You were almost begging (you were begging) her not to tell anyone that you were persecuting her (protecting her), you didn't want her to report you to some authority (that would only hinder your mission) or worse, report you to Superman. You said, stammered, that you were just protecting her. Wanting to make sure Lois didn't feel threatened and report you. 

— The desperation, the panic in your voice, seemed too young for Lois to feel comfortable. You were like a scared child, you looked very much like just a scared child, and that made Lois uncomfortable but at the same time... motherly. If you wanted to hurt her, you would have done it already. You at least accomplished one thing: making Lois not feel threatened by you.

 — The other thing you couldn't do was stop Lois from telling Clark about you. Look, I'm sure Lois didn't mean it, it's uncomfortable to be watched almost every day, but also, since she discovered you, she's been quite worried about you.

 — And Clark is all worried, like, "What?? My wife is being stalked??? Oh wait, my wife is being stalked and protected. Well, that's still very worrying, I'm definitely going to check it out for myself." Furthermore, Lois insisted that he be gentle when approaching you. And Lois saying this to him made him even more intrigued. 

— He tried to approach you just as Clark Kent, just to know how you would react around a seemingly civilian person, think of it as a method to read your character (he didn't want to confront you as Superman in a careless way. After all, who wouldn't Does he act nice or change to a more pleasant personality around Superman?)

— Needless to say, Clark was surprised and confused when you looked at him like he was the greatest terror of your life before simply running away from him. He recognized that look, only villains who were traumatized after a confrontation against him have that look (but the you look was much, much worse than that). That day, you didn't chase Lois.

 — Clark suspected you knew his secret identity. There is no longer any reason for you to have reacted like this. 

— lol, that day Lois noticed the absence of the feeling of being watched and scolded Clark for scaring you. Although it wasn't his fault, he apologized. He really didn't mean to scare you ;( You were gone for a few days after that. But of course, you still had to protect Lois in her everyday life. Even if you were scared. 

— Anyway, it didn't matter how softly, friendly Superman approached you next time. You ran, or at least tried to run. Do you really want to bet on who is the fastest? He easily caught you and held you by your forearm. And that was enough to make you scream, cry, struggle and finally, shrink as much as possible.

— And Superman was all confused, he wasn't even hurting you or squeezing you hard. His voice was also friendly. If anything, it made him even more worried. Add the fact that you appear to be very young and his paternal instincts kicked in. 

— To his surprise, you pulled out a knife. Something like that couldn't hurt Superman, of course not. But who said the knife was meant to hurt him? Let's say you picked up the knife and tried to slit your own throat as a last resort escape. (What did you go through with Superman from Injustice to the point that you tried to commit suicide just to escape him?) 

— Superman was surprised and then horrified. He immediately knocked you unconscious before you cut deeper into your throat. Now with you unconscious, you seemed more vulnerable and fragile than you should have been. Now he understood why Lois was worried about you. (You know, if Batman can adopt multiple children, why couldn't Superman...? You seem like a good kid and even Lois agrees with that. Conner and Jon would definitely like to have a sister) 

— Superman wondered what happened to you that made you reach the point where death was a usable route. He wanted to question you personally, but the moment he confirmed that you knew his identity (you acted the same way when he approached you as a civilian. He was the only one to receive this reaction from you and no one else), this matter became the subject of the Justice League. Discovering the identity of a superhero and pursuing someone close to that superhero was not going to be taken lightly. Who's to say you don't also know the identities of others? Although Superman wants to deal with you alone, he doubts he'll get any information out of you with you yelling and screaming. So he took you to the justice league. 

— Batman can definitely help you solve this.

(Imagine the anguish it would be to probably have to get used to people having the same appearance and the same voice as your captors in Injustice. Imagine them acting all soft after finding out you come from a universe where the heroes are corrupt and broke you😩)

Notas: I leave the rest to you. Or to any author who wants to use this idea (I beg you, some author write a Yandere platonic Superman/Superfam fic😭 They could even add other platonic Yanderes like Batfam, it would be so interesting 🙏😭)

(I just realized that the one who acted the most Yandere was Reader herself, lol)

#yandere platonic #yandere #superman x reader #superman #platonic yandere #yandere superman #yandere superfam #yandere platonic x reader #Yandere platonic Superman #Yandere platonic Superfam #superfamily #Superfam #justice league #batman #yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #yandere platonic batfam #yandere x reader #yandere justice league #dc comics #dc #dcu #injustice #reader #Superfam x reader #batfamily #batfamily x reader #yandere dc #yandere batman #yandere clark kent

[perseephoneee]

blood sharing (kol mikaelson x f!reader)

warnings: blood sharing (obvs), allusions to sex, female identifying reader

a/n: this is purely self indulgent. i'm not good with smutty things, but it's kinktober, so here's the only thing i can contribute. anywhooo. enjoy?

↳ masterlist ↳  want to be shipped with a fic character?

He was hungry, and you could tell.

The way he stood as far apart from you was the first sign. Then, the veins under his eyes that he tried so desperately to hide by turning his face. The clenching and unclenching of his fists, like he fought the urge to run across the room and suck you dry.

"Go and get food," you said, arms crossed uncomfortably as you took in the starving vampire.

"I can't leave you, darling," Kol cooed, looking up at you. "I'm supposed to stay in this room and protect you. Brothers orders." "And you listen to your brothers?"

"For pretty girls, I'll listen to them," Kol flirted, but you could tell it was forced. He hadn't had food in a while, and he was in here because of you.

Guilt gripped your heart, as well as morbid curiosity. You harbored a school-girl crush on Kol, and the cheesy novels you read always made you wonder what it would feel like to be the victim of a vampire's appetite. Plus, you felt bad that he was struggling. At least, that's what you told yourself.

"You can feed on me," you whispered. Kol heard you, though, his head immediately shooting up to look at you.

"Bad idea, luv."

"I trust you to not, uh, kill me," you chuckled nervously. Kol dared take a step closer to you, and you fought the urge to step back. He was intimidating, albeit a cheeky bastard. Your heart raced as he approached you, towering above your smaller form.

"Is this out of the kindness of your heart or some other need?" Kol murmured, reaching up to play with a strand of your hair. Your breath became shaky as you dared to make eye contact with the original vampire. His eyes were darker than usual, and his gaze was fixed on your mouth, on the way you licked your lips. "See, darling, I think you want me biting you, taking you as mine." Kol circled you, standing behind your form as he pulled your hair away from your neck. You gulped, your eyes fluttering close as his fingers traced over your carotid artery. His other hand traced up and down your forearm, creating goosebumps in his wake.

"I don't think you have the guts to bite me," you whispered, challenging him. The reverberating dark chuckle told you that you were stepping into dangerous territory.

"Is that what you think?" Kol mumbled into your ear, his breath hot on your cheek, his hands gripping your arms. "I'm happy to prove you wrong."

He didn't give you any warning before biting into your neck. The pain that flared was nothing compared to the pleasure you derived from feeling his fangs. God, you were such a masochist.

Your head fell back onto his shoulder, a shaky breath leaving you. His arm wrapped around your middle, holding you to him. The warmth and icey fire surging through your body was nothing you felt before. Kol pulled away, licking over the wound before kissing it better. He bit his wrist, blood welling up as he held it to your lips. You wanted to moan as the saccharine blood touched your tastebuds. You grabbed his wrist close to you, and he didn't bother stepping away from your form. When you removed his wrist, you dared turn and make eye contact. Kol's gaze was nothing short of lustful, and your inhibitions were already low. You kissed him, enjoying the growl that left him as he turned you in his arms to hold you better. Somehow, the kiss made you as high as sharing blood. Pulling away, you didn't dare go too far as a coy smile danced across your lips.

"I have an idea of what we can do to pass the time," you smiled, looking up at him through heavy lashes. Kol grinned, leaning down and picking you up in one fell swoop.

"I like where your head is at."

#kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson x reader #the vampire diaries #vampire diaries #the originals #legacies #tvd #tvdu #vampire diaries imagines #tvd imagines #tvdu imagines #kinktober 2023

[adventuringblind]

So Powerful, So Vulnerable

Landoscar x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Mafia AU, more crack than anything with the way I wrote it.

Summary: Lando has a meeting on neutral ground. Oscar has to make the switch. How'd she get caught in a petty crossfire?

Warnings: Attempted r@pe, gun violence, knives, blood,

Notes: This was far more fun to write than I expected. Another request done!

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

She sighs, watching Lando hit his head on the steering wheel of the car. She wants to laugh at his dramatics. You'd think he wouldn't be so whiny since he's in charge of the areas strong Mafia, but she knows the truth.

"I Just - they had one job!" He moans and throws in a fake cry for good measure.

Oscar keeps throwing her looks from where he's spread out on the backseat. He and Lando also make it a point to keep her in the passenger seat and switch who drives. "It's an easy fix. Ten minutes tops, in and out, then back to our original plans." The Aussie shrugs.

"You'll make the switch?"

"Obviously, and if they shoot first, I'll shoot better."

~~~~~

The club rages around her. Not her preferred method of doing business. Dealing with people isn't her strong suit unless it's with a bullet to the head from the top of a building. Knives are fun to when things get messy.

The crowd is safer than the car if this does go south. Not that she's expecting it to, but better safe than sorry.

Oscar is already gone. He drops the money and gets the hostages while Lando goes to meet them on neutral ground. Simple as that.

Her job is to look pretty and watch the door that Lando had disappeared through. Mocktail in hand to make it look like she's part of the normal crowd.

Technically speaking, they'd only been together for the last year. Her and Oscar much longer than that. Though she has a sneaky suspicion Lando kept assigning both of them to the same jobs for a reason. If any jobs came up that required Lando to go out and needed people with him, they were the first he contacted.

If she had to guess, she'd say he orchestrated this relationship. She wouldn't have it any other way. It's not like any of them know how to do anything normally.

She tries not to grimace as a man saunters up to her. His movements unflattering and he smells like cigarettes. Her nose scrunches up in an effort to fight back her gag.

"You here all alone?" Even his voice is grating to her ears! Can this get even worse?

"My boyfriend is busy killing the guy that flirted with me earlier."

"Yeah right, anyone with that kind of attitude must be hard to flirt with." He scoffs. How mad would her partners be if she stabbed this man? No - she can't - they are trying to finish a deal. She'd blow the whole thing if she did that.

Actually - this guy looks familiar... She takes another drink of the non-alcoholic beverage.

"You alright? you look a little flushed."

"Yeah I'm-" Shit, she knows this feeling. More than that, she knows this man.

He's a hitman for the other gang. The one who has Lando's men. The one he's meeting with right now.

Her heart lurches. The fog in her head and heat are too much. Her body is going to give out on her.

She ends up stabbing him. The knife strapped to her thigh finds a home in Mr. Hitman's chest. He cries out in pain but doesn't pull it out. He smiles at her instead.

She tries to bolt, but three other sets of hands pin her. They drag her outside. The ground scraping against her skin in an uncomfortable way.

She sees the hitman fall to the ground; hears the thud as the pull her out the back where he was trying to follow.

Damn, she kind of liked that knife too. She'll have to go back for it later.

They already have Lando outside. Her blurry vision is enough to see him covered in blood, licking his lips. "You trying to take my girl?"

"Shut it, Norris. This is payback for what you did."

They start attempting to remove her clothes. Like she was going to go down without a fight. Her nails dig into the skin of whoever is close by. She pulls as hard as possible, skin from another getting stuck in her nails as she does.

Her body doesn't have the energy for more than that. She misses her knife. This would be easier if she still had it. The stabbing motion isn't difficult, and gravity would help.

"Get your filthy, fucking hands off of her!"

There is another round of fists clashing. "Maybe you shouldn't have killed four of my guys."

"You killed mine first! They made the deal exactly as intended and you still put a bullet through their skulls!"

This was all a setup then. They were planning on them showing up. Though, there is no way they know about Oscar. If they never intended on sending someone to make the switch, then they wouldn't have anyone on the roof.

Hands are everywhere, wrestling with her clothes. They don't get far, their intentions now clear. The shot echoes off the buildings. To close to be from the roof.

The man directly in front of her crumples to the ground. The spray of the blood from the shot sticks to her skin.

"I believe Lando said not to touch her." Oscar stands there holding the smoking gun.

She watches the fight break out around her. It's messy and loud, but her boys come out on top. As per usual with these things. She would've gladly joined in if these stupid drugs would let up.

The boss had scrambled away with his tail between his legs. Serves him right after this stunt. "Did he really not like you that much?" Oscar throws a raised eyebrow at Lando.

"Jealousy, I think." They work in tandem to heave her body upright and support her back to the car. "What happened on the roof?"

"I was waiting for any kind of signal but got nothing. Nobody showed up. So, I came back down and was greeted by six guns pointed at my head."

"They shot first, I presume?"

"But I shot better."

She doesn't need to see the smirk to know it's there.

~~~~~

The hot water of the bath feels exceptional against her skin. They'd scrubbed at blood for far too long. The raw skin finally being soothed is relaxing.

The drugs still haven't worn off. Her motor function is lacking, and her words are slurring together, but it's better than it was.

Lando and Oscar are keeping her upright. Her body resting against theirs. Fingers caress her skin. This is safety.

"Can't believe we've had to cancel our date." Lando plops three rubber ducks inside the bath. Oscar's ducks, mind you.

"Frankly, I think we could consider that a date. We went out, got covered in blood, now we're having a relaxing bath."

"You just don't like going out."

She's going to fall asleep here. Relaxed and at peace with her boys. The possibility of drowning unlikely. "I love you both."

"You're drugged and still got blood on you."

"Sexy."

"I killed someone for you."

"Romantic."

#f1 fic #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #racing #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 imagine #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri #lando norris #lando imagine #lando norris f1 #lando norris fanfic #ln4 imagine #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 fic #mclaren f1 #mclaren #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x reader #landoscar #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri f1 #oscar piastri x you #op81 x reader #op81 #lando norris x you #lando norris x oscar piastri #lando norris x y/n

[2baabbies]

🖤 Obsessed (Hyunjin x Reader) 🖤

Pairings: established relationship hyunjin x reader

Words: 3800

Summary: Hyunjin’s jealous streak ends with you finding him in a compromising position. AKA: in your bed, masturbating while wearing your shirt.

(somewhat inspired by Olivia Rodrigo’s song by the same name; quote at the beginning also from this song)

Fluff + Smut + Humour

afab + fem!reader

CWs: jealousy (but make it cute and silly), reader is trying to make hyunjin jealous but only because it makes them both horny (and he’s a drama queen), he’s only a bit insecure, the point of contention is a big shirt but reader’s weight is not described (aka this fic is not limited to any one body size), reader and hyunjin have exes, reader lets hyunjin make assumptions that she teases him about later

Smut Tags: lots of teasing!!, (subtle) subby!hyune x dom!reader, intercourse (peanits in vagina), safe sex/use of condom, a bit of rough sex/uncomfortable position, reader has a kink for hyunjin’s desperation, begging, hair pulling, overstim, slight dumbification of reader, slightly pervy!hyune (smelling your clothes), hyunjin masturbates in your shirt (described in detail), little bit of voyeurism, bit of cum eating

!!ATTENTION!!

Reposting this fic to other platforms, including as a translation, is expressly prohibited. Do not copy, alter, or claim this fic as your own. Absolutely no permission is given to anyone to post my works, even with credit, and this fic should only appear on Ao3 or Tumblr under my accounts. Reposting is not only plagiarism, but a direct violation of my wishes as the original writer and owner. Please respect writers and don’t steal!

Likes, reblogs, asks and comments are very welcome and appreciated <3

~~~

‘And I know you love me, and I know it's crazy

But every time you call my name, I think you mistake me for her

You both have moved on, you don't even talk

But I can't help it, I got issues, I can't help it, baby’

It takes Hyunjin’s brain a second to register that something is wrong, and a second after that to actually take a look at himself and attempt to decipher what feels so off. He is still buffering when you return to your bedroom. You giggle at his bedhead and the cute expression on his face as he grabs the hem of his shirt and holds it up. He thought he had grabbed his white tshirt off the floor, and in his morning daze he had actually grabbed one of yours that you were too lazy to throw in the morning laundry. The graphic tee is far too big on him, even hanging off his shoulder, but you get a good look at the boxers he pulled on seconds before thanks to his hands lifting it up above his stomach. He drops the material and it falls down over his lap, unfortunately covering his soft tummy and pale thighs. He looks up then blinks away his sleep as you enter with a basket of clean laundry. You hold up his shirt and you giggle again at his sleepy smile.

“Looking for this?”

He nods and watches you drop the basket on the bed. You pull each freshly washed garment out for him and he shuffles over to loop his arms around your waist from behind.

“You let me sleep in…”

“You wouldn’t get up, sleeping beauty.”

He huffs and pecks the nape of your neck.

“You didn’t try hard enough…”

“Mhm, sure. You look cute in that.”

You admire him over your shoulder as he leans back and plucks the baggy fabric between his fingers.

“It doesn’t fit me…”

“I think that’s where the cuteness comes in.”

“I’m always cute…”

“That… I don’t disagree with that.”

He chuckles and turns you around so he can properly embrace you. You smile at him and nudge your noses together with a fond smile. He hums and nuzzles back gently, drawing your body tight to his with a content sigh.

“It’s so cozy… How come I hardly see you wearing it?”

You fail to realize at first that he is back to talking about the shirt, and take a moment of silence to contemplate his question.

“I wear it all the time. I think it’s just always dirty, I try to put something cleaner on when I know you’re coming over.”

You both laugh at your honesty.

“It’s really soft.”

“Well, I’d offer to buy you one but I don’t know where it came from.”

“What do you mean?”

“Someone left it over a while ago…”

You do not regret the words when they leave your mouth, but you can do little to fight your smirk as Hyunjin’s lips draw into a tight line. He then purses his lips and puffs his cheeks in a dramatic pout.

“Who?”

“Don’t be jealous.”

“I’m not jealous. Tell me who.”

You roll your eyes. Hyunjin was privy to the history of all your exes, situationships, and sexual escapades. You knew about his too. It had been relieving to be able to talk so candidly about your experiences with him, and it definitely allowed the two of you to become close early on in your relationship. There was something therapeutic about snuggling with your lover and bitching about the ones that let you down.

It did not, however, curb Hyunjin’s jealousy in the slightest. He knew their names, how long you were together, if you still talked, he even knew where some of them lived and worked. It would be alarming if you had not both offered all that information to each other willingly. And you knew, ultimately, Hyunjin would never restrict you from having a friendship with any of the exes you still talked to. Although you would never admit it, you treated his jealousy as a testament of his love. He only cared so much because he cared about you. Besides, it was a natural emotion, and the fact that he was willing to  be so emotionally available did more for you than anything your exes ever did.

“We don’t even talk anymore, Hyune. I don’t think she’s even in this country.”

“She. She. Oh god, I know who it is.”

“No, you don’t-”

He falls out of your arms and to the bed with a heavy thud, wailing incoherently as you observe his theatrics.

“She’s the worst!”

“Well, that’s why we’re not friends anymore…”

He suddenly thrashes and tears the shirt off with an animalistic grunt. You cock your eyebrow up and watch him roll around in vain when it gets stuck on his chin. He manages to pull it off and whips it at the floor, breathless after his performance.

“Are you okay?” You ask.

“I can’t believe you let me wear her shirt.”

You scoff.

“Firstly, you’re the one that put it on. Secondly, it’s my shirt. She left it. Finders keepers.”

“I feel dirty.”

“You’re fine. And overreacting.”

You kneel on the edge of the bed and crawl up so you are sitting in his lap. He huffs and looks at you with a miserable expression.

“Why did you keep her shirt?”

“Because it’s a nice shirt, and I like it.”

“Get rid of it.”

“I will not. But, I’ll wear it less if that makes you feel better.”

“No. It doesn’t.”

You giggle.

“You’re being silly, Hyune.”

He looks away pointedly and you guide him back to face you by gripping his jaw. He swallows thickly as you, slowly, lean in to hover your face over his. You feel his shuddery breath on your lips, and bite down seductively to muffle the satisfied hum you release when you feel him hardening beneath you. He glares and scrunches his face with faux distaste as you dance your fingers up his stomach, then graze your thumb over one of his nipples. He shivers and finally lets the act drop, his annoyance melting into arousal as you peck shyly at his lips.

“Hyune,” You purr, “It’s okay if you’re jealous.”

“I-I know…”

You reward his cooperation with a teasing lick into his mouth, and carefully circle his nipple with light pressure. He whines and bucks up against you.

“You know how special you are to me. I love you, baby.”

“I love you, too,” He whimpers.

You respond with a sultry chuckle and begin stripping off your clothes.

There was a part of you that adored Hyunjin’s jealousy. It made him whiny, and needier for your affection. You would deny it vehemently if he ever called you out on it, but his desperation for your validation could have you dripping in seconds. So, it was a bit of a game between you. For the majority of the following week, Hyunjin would pretend he was unbothered when he saw you wearing that shirt. In turn, you would pretend that you were accidentally choosing it over all your other pajama options. While it may have been a bit unfair- or even mean- on your part to watch him squirm and stifle his complaints each time you pulled it on, it did not weigh on your conscience. You love each other; you trust he will let you know when his limit has been met.

And he does.

“Take it off.”

“Ha-ah,” Your eyes roll as you mumble back, “Hn?”

Your mind is fuzzy. Hyunjin has your ankles hooked over his shoulders and his cock pressed deep inside you. Your arms are limp above your head, fists clenching in the pillow supporting you. You tilt your head back with a moan as his hips rock against the back of your thighs in a steady rhythm.

“Baby, take it off, please.”

His fingers are curled in the hem of the white shirt, lifting it up as he ruts himself into your warmth. You huff out a laugh and tilt your head back to face him. You moan as you take in his heady groans and pleading eyes. His plump lips are parted to exhale a whine and his cheeks are impossibly flushed. You clench when he makes another pathetic noise and shoves his face into your neck. You smirk as your shirt gets rucked up to your breasts.

“I-I’m cold, Hyune.”

“Please. Please, please, please.”

He draws back and now you whine as his movements falter. 

“Hyunjin?”

He raises his head and pouts, eyes teary as he looks at you. You shudder, feeling your heat gush at the sight. You are teetering on the edge of an orgasm, and your mind is scrambled with the intent to chase that high. You roll your hips and he gives a shaky thrust in return.

“Don’t make me beg, darling. I can’t take it anymore.”

“Mhm! M’okay, take it- take it off, Hyune.”

His touch is deft as you lift your arms and he slips the shirt over your head. He throws it behind him, then draws a gasp from you when he repositions himself above you. Your mouth is agape in pleasure when he starts thrusting again, legs folded to your chest as he plows you into the mattress. You are thankful for the pillow, otherwise your head would be banging against the headboard. His tip almost kisses your cervix and you let out a breathless wail as humps into you, following each precise thrust with steadily rising groans. You reach up to thread your fingers in his hair and bring him in for a kiss. Your toes curl as his body melts into yours, and you finally reach your climax. You share more consuming kisses as he fucks you through your orgasm.

Hyunjin is soon following you, getting sloppier in his movements as his pleasure increases. He leans away, just enough to let you catch your breath. Your legs are trembling from the strain, and now from the overstimulation of his cock filling your fluttering cunt. He shakes his head when stray hairs stick to his skin and fall into his eyes, and you lovingly tuck each one out of the way.

“Hyune…”

“G-Good?”

“Mhm,” You nod and quiver, “M’good. Can’t think.”

He laughs and leans down to peck your lips. For a moment it looks like he has a quip lined up, but he just snuggles his head into your chest and lets out a ruined moan. You giggle as his thrusts stutter, then he lazily rolls his hips into you with a relieved hum. You let him ride out his release, kissing the crown of his head and playing with his hair as he lets out little moans and sighs of pleasure. When he finally stills, you reach between your bodies and gently push on his chest.

“Ah-ahn…”

“Hyune, you’re squishing me.”

“Hah, sorry.”

He groggily rises and lets your legs fall out of their tense position. You help him slip off the condom and discard it in the trash bin beside your bed. Your legs are numb, and you are a little shuddery all over from the lingering overstimulation. Hyunjin helps you get comfortable then melts into your waiting arms. You resume kissing and caressing him slowly as he tucks the two of you under the blanket and settles on top of you. He rubs his dumpling cheek over your heart and smiles when you giggle at him.

“I love you,” He murmurs, “You okay?”

You nod.

“I’m good, baby. I love you, too. You always make me feel so good.”

“Mhm, I’m sorry I was rough.”

Hyunjin massages your hips and gently squeezes your thighs. You hum and brush your fingers through his hair, tidying his mussed locks and ridding it of tangles.

“You don’t have to be sorry, babe. I loved it. You were perfect.”

“You’re perfect.”

He leans up to share a sweet kiss, stroking your cheek as your lips meld together. When you part, he pecks your chin then lets his lips trail down your neck. Your eyes flutter and you exhale peacefully as exhaustion overtakes you. Still, you stay awake when he brushes his lips over your ear and whispers to you.

“Thank you, for taking it off.”

“Mhm. Jealous baby.”

He whines at your teasing tone.

“You’re so mean.”

“And you’re ridiculous,” You murmur as you drift off, “But I still love you. You’re my favourite boy. My one and only.”

He nods and pecks your cheek. “I know. You’re my one and only, too, baby.”

The morning arrives peacefully. You wake up before your alarm, and enjoy a few minutes of admiring Hyunjin’s sleeping visage before you slip out of bed to get ready for the day. He is still sleeping after you finish your routine, completely undisturbed as you get dressed and check your phone. You still have some time before you have to go, so you sit beside him on the bed and card your fingers through his hair as you scroll through your phone. He stirs and looks up at you blearily when you run your thumb down the bridge of his nose.

“Mh?”

“Good morning, baby,” You peck his forehead, “I have to go out. I have a couple errands to run. I won’t be long, okay?”

“Mhhm.”

You tuck him in and kiss his temple as he nuzzles his face into a pillow. You giggle and leave with a fond smile.

Hyunjin wakes later, before you return, and pats the empty space beside him until he realizes you are not there. He rolls onto his back to look around and swipes a hand over his face as he fights his disorientation. Eventually, he vaguely remembers you kissing him goodbye earlier when he was somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. Unfortunately for him, he has no clue when that was or how much longer it will be until you get home. He lets out a frustrated sigh for no one but himself and eases himself out of bed. He pulls on his boxers, finding them among the pile of other clothes hastily discarded when the two of you fell into bed the night before, and shuffles to the bathroom.

He is a bit more awake when he returns to your bedroom, and pauses as it registers in his vision. White fabric, carelessly casted to the floor, sitting atop your panties and his hoodie. He scoffs at it, so it will know how he disapproves of it gracing his presence, and crosses the room to pick it up off the floor. He had not cared to look at the white tee any more closely once the idea of you wearing someone else’s clothes crossed his mine, but he is drawn to dissecting it now. He does not recognize the print on the front, some band or characters you never mentioned, but he does admire it a bit now. Ultimately, he understands why you kept the shirt on an objective level. It is nice, albeit a little worn, and there is nothing aesthetic-wise that he dislikes about it.

Hesitantly, he toys with it before bringing it to his nose. He gives a tentative sniff as he recalls your words from a week ago. I wear it all the time. I think it’s just always dirty. The shirt definitely did not smell like fresh laundry, or whatever he was expecting it to smell like. It smells like you. He cannot place it, there is a mix of familiar smells invading his senses; the remnants of your body wash, a hint of the candle you light after stressful days, the trace of your hot scent that drives him crazy during your intimate moments. His eyelids flutter and he groans, pressing the fabric to his nose and inhaling deeper. He recalls how comfortable the shirt was to wear before he learned of its origins, and begrudgingly pulls it on before crawling back in bed.

Missing you is torture for him during the rare moments he wakes up alone in your bed, but wearing your shirt settles his loneliness for a bit. That is, until he gets restless again. He could go find his phone, wherever he abandoned it when you two started getting handsy the night before, but he is already so comfortable under the covers. The only thing missing is you. He pulls the collar up over his nose and breathes in, momentarily subdued by the illusion of being enveloped by you. Then he remembers the vision of you from last night, wearing this same shirt and taking him so dutifully in this same bed. He groans and curses himself, reaching down to palm over his growing erection. The shirt, still too big for him, adds an extra obstacle between him and relief as he strokes himself leisurely. He shucks his boxers off under the blanket and reaches under the shirt to grasp his cock firmly. He groans and gives himself a rough squeeze before jerking himself slowly.

One hand holds the shirt up over his nose while the other roams over his length. He wishes it was you. He bucks his hips up at the thought of you touching him and puffs sharply into the shirt. He squirms, the tip of his cock rubs against the inside of the shirt with every stroke and creates a delicious amount of friction. It is so soft, gliding against him without any discomfort and very little resistance. His hips jump again and he has to clutch the base of his cock to stop himself from climaxing too quickly. He discovers that he can taste your scent stronger if he inhales through his mouth, and before too long is panting desperately as he thrusts into his fist. He is too hot now, and kicks off the blanket before resuming the rhythm of sucking in deep breaths while fucking into his own hand.

He is almost there now, possibly on the verge of cumming faster than any other time he has touched himself. He watches his cock strain under the shirt through his eyelashes, and whines when his precum begins wetting a spot in the white fabric. It sticks to him now, turning a bit translucent where his arousal beads through the material. His eyes pinch shut and he controls himself again. He does not want to finish so quickly. This feeling of pleasure is new to him, being smothered in your scent and comfort with the perfect sensation helping him get off. The only thing that might compare is actually getting to fuck you, but this is so different.

He cannot edge himself any longer, the pleasure that has been pooling has become too much. He begins jerking himself faster, ignoring the dry scrape of his unlubed palm on his shaft. He collects some of his precum and uses that to ease his motions. It helps just enough and allows him to reach his climax without further hesitation. He cries out and pants out a series of whimpering moans as his cum shoots out in thick spurts.

You lean in the doorway, watching his release soak through the fabric and further dampen the spot over his cock. You had been watching since he kicked the blanket away. In fact, you knew what he was doing when you entered the apartment and heard his soft moans ringing out in the silence. What you had not expected was walking in on the scene before you- but you were far from disappointed. You let Hyunjin recover a bit before speaking up. He tugs down the collar of the shirt and heaves in a much needed breath.

“I thought you didn’t like that shirt?”

He jumps and throws his palm over his face.

“Fuck.”

You laugh as his other hand slips guiltily out from under the shirt and falls limp on the bed, a bit of his cum sticking between his fingers. You saunter over to the bed, leaning in to run your hand up the inside of his leg as you walk up alongside him. He shivers and peeks at you through his fingers, chest rising and falling quickly in anticipation. Your hand takes his wrist from where it lies on the bed, you hold him firmly as you ease down to straddle his lap. You hold up his messy fingers, almost in admiration, and meet his gaze as you suck them into your mouth. He groans and lets his other hand drop so he can watch you lap each one clean. Your lip twitches as you guide his fingers over your lips, smearing your spit as you lead him to cup your cheek.

“Well?”

“Huh? Oh, the shirt, right,” You giggle and silently urge him to reply, “I-It’s alright. I still don’t like it.”

“Really? You seem to like it, at least a little bit.”

You pry the shirt up from where it has begun to stick to his cock and he hisses. You tilt your head and run your thumb over the patch of soiled fabric thoughtfully.

“O-Only because it smells like you.”

“Oh? Is that it? Are you still jealous?”

Hyunjin sets his jaw and avoids your gaze for a moment as he licks his lips nervously.

“I don’t know…”

“Be honest, Hyune.”

His eyes flick shyly to yours.

“It’s not easy just to… not be jealous. You know that.”

“Mhm…”

You move up his lap, not caring when you settle onto the dirty patch or his oversensitive cock. He watches with a worried frown as you brace your hands on either side of his head and lean over him.

“Wanna know a secret?”

“Yes,” He breathes, looking up at you expectantly.

“You’re jealous over someone who I never had feelings for, and who never got to touch me.”

His eyes widen then narrow.

“But, y-you said your ex left it!”

“Ah-ah- I said ‘someone’ left it behind. You were the one who assumed I was ever into that person.”

He puffs his cheeks and glares softly.

“You lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie, I just didn’t correct you. You shouldn’t have assumed you knew who forgot it.”

“You set me up.”

You laugh.

“I set you up? For what? To catch you jerking off in my shirt?”

“Yes!”

Your laughter intensifies and Hyunjin fights his smile. He looks embarrassed, face still flushed, but the twinkle in his eye as you become breathless above him seems to signify his ease with the circumstances. You sigh happily and lean down to reward him with a deep kiss, which he eagerly returns.

“How about we get you clean, hm?”

“Sounds good to me.”

You giggle and tug at the shirt playfully.

“And I’ll get our shirt washed up.”

“Yeah, you let it go too long. It’s way too dirty to wear now.”

You snort.

“Okay, actually, you can wash your own messes.”

He grins.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Hyune.”

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids smut #hyunjin x reader #skz x reader #skz x y/n #skz x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #skz fanfic #skz reader insert #stray kids reader insert

[eluxcastar]

For the whole dottore basically adopting the reader, what would he do if reader got sick? And would reader call him dad, dottore or zandik?

Dadtore with his sick child

── ୨୧：il dottore & reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: more dadtore but with germs this time (the first germs)

୨୧﹑genre :: fluff

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, child reader, not proofread, also written at one am I'll edit in the morning 😭

୨୧﹑words :: 700

originally this was gonna be another ramble but I was like this could be cute let's write it. as for the name I actually have no idea largely because when I wrote child reader last time I wrote them intentionally without dialogue so I actually didn't even consider it but Dad feels like a very down the road choice

Zandik feels more familiar than Dottore but whether he'd want a kid running around calling him that to everyone is a different question. I think there's a definite Dottore to Dad pipeline

Perhaps you managed, no thanks to your infinite curiosity, to get into the things he'd tried to keep you from. Dottore thought he'd done everything he could possibly do, but children find a way. When you wake up in the middle of the night to him still up and about, he's surprised to find you look barely awake, unsurprising on its own, but you are unsteady and warm to the touch.

That's not good. You've never been sick before. Dottore pauses, hand practically glued to you as he tries to think of what to do. Should he run you a cold bath? Maybe he should leave you or warm you up more so that you can sweat it out easily. He's not even sure what's wrong with you yet.

You're sleepy, it seems, as you're passed out in Dottore's arms before he can even carry you back to your makeshift bed, breath softening against his skin as your head rests on his shoulder. It's such a natural way for you to settle by now, even after only a few months, that Dottore waits to let go. You feel too warm, too fragile. It is the polar opposite of how cold you were when he found you.

He sets you back in your spot on the couch and wraps your blankets tightly around you. Your face is flushed, and you still look far too addled.

Rest and a lot to drink are enough, but they certainly don't feel like enough as Dottore stares down at you, all curled up amongst your blankets. More than ever, you look like a pathetic newborn kitten stumbling about and too small to do anything but sleep and blink with great effort. It's all in an endearing way. Dottore can't have you dying on him, especially not to a fever, but there's little he can actually do to help you and little that says he should be. Fevers are the kind of thing you have to sweat out, often because they're fighting something else. Dottore knows that well.

"Did you touch anything you weren't supposed to?" he asks. Dottore doesn't recall a time at which you went poking around with a dedication to finding anything or that you didn't cut it out the moment he scolded you.

You slowly shake your head as you register his question. It reassures him, seeing as he can't find a reason to doubt that. You've had very few problems with honesty before today. You're trustworthy enough not to interrogate you.

"Then you got it from someone else," he concludes. "You're not uncomfortable?"

Again, you shake your head once the question sets in. That's the best you'll get as you are. Whatever this fever is trying to fight off is not something you found in a petri dish and probably came from your disagreeable habit of being far too welcoming to strangers in the lab. If nothing else, he can find comfort in the fact he won't spend the next few hours worrying if you've contracted a deadly disease or greatly repel properties of the abyss. You're still very safe right here where he's able to watch over you.

Dottore takes a moment to lay you down, a vaguely tender show of practically pushing you over as you've dozed off to sleep again in the time it takes him to act. Dottore collects the mess of blankets around you and pulls them over you, opting to keep you from getting cold unless you get worse or throw them off in your sleep. He finds his overcoat bunched at your feet and drapes that on top of the blankets too, your favourite item of comfort and what keeps you most warm.

Dottore sits beside you in the tiny space between your feet and the edge of the couch. There is just enough room for him. His hand rests against your leg as he waits, watching your chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm. He is pleased to see you sleep well despite the circumstances.

That coat had once been wrapped around you, cold and shivering, and it engulfed you with fabric to spare. Dottore doesn't mind sharing it with you now.

#♡ — anon visit. #✦ — headcanons. #✦ — fluff. #dottore #il dottore #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader

[abrcmswrld]

Treacherous | Mike Schmidt x Reader

Summary: Reader and Mike have been best friends since childhood. After a fight, Reader is given a surprise visit.

Warnings: General Angst, General Fluff, a suggestive make out scene in the nude but nothing too crazy, mentions of feminine clothing in one part but overall gender neutral

Author's Note: IM EDITING THIS RN SO PLEASE JUST IGNORE THE MISTAKES AND LIKE DUMB STUFF This is my first fic for Mike so bear with me! I tried so hard to adhere to the movie timeline but if it seems shaky please just ignore it lmao. I'm also bad at pacing sorry. I’d love to make this a series cause I’m in love with a good friends to lovers trope.

Mike had always been a bit of a mess. All of the time that you've known him, this has never changed. You can recall times on the playground of boys calling him names for his sensitivities. How were they to know the gravity of his situation? How were you to know? But you always felt called to stand up for him either way.

So you'd hound them off. You'd grab his hand and pull him off the dirt and to a quiet corner of the playground. The two of you would sit on the wooden border, picking at the grass and watching the other kids play.

His sensitivities would quickly turn to a certain hardness that you'd never fully come to understand, even in your late twenties. He'd open up the tiniest bit in high school, after his mother had passed away. He was only 17 years old. You were still children.

You have memories of standing uncomfortably in the dress your mother had insisted you wear to the funeral. You didn't know how to approach him then. He sat alone in a chair on the far side of the funeral home, a blank expression on his face. You couldn't say a word as you took tiny footsteps towards him. And he didn't say a word either, just looked up with bloodshot eyes. You'd hugged him then, feeling his shoulders shakes against you.

Soon it was time for the two of you to start thinking about college and your lives outside of the scope of small town high school. Talks of plans to find something new and excited were quickly stomped out by the failures of his father. You can recall a 23 year old Mike begging for your company on late nights when his father's drinking had reached a climax.

And you'd gladly show up for him. Abby was only six by that time, and Mike was all she had. Mike spoke about his father with disdain to you. Never crying the way he had as child, but you could see a sad anger within the conversations. And really, you couldn't blame him.

You can remember a night on the roof of your childhood home. It wasn’t your first time sneaking Mike through the window of your bedroom. It was a cold December night, and you were home for the holidays.

“I don’t think my dad’s coming back.”

Your knees were pulled up and under your chin as you rest your head and listened to his worries. “What do you mean?”

He sighed. “I mean, he hasn’t been back for three days and I think this might finally be it.”

You furrowed your brows and met his gaze.

“I’ll move back here.”

In that moment he had begged you not to. You were so close to finishing your degree and he insisted that he could not be the reason you didn’t finish. So you heeded to his wishes. You finished your final semester.

In the 6 months that you were gone after that night, his dad had not returned. Mike had stepped up to be a guardian for his sister. Family court would later assure this in legal documentation.

You had hugged him tightly the first night you were home and assured him that you would be there, for the both of them.

━━━

You would prove that to him when his original babysitter had ghosted him.

“Probably got tired of not being paid.” He had said when you asked why.

You don’t ask for pay. You had a day job that kept you stable enough to live. And as Mike’s hours were night shift, there was really no problem with the arrangement.

It would go on for a few weeks. You hadn’t seen pay, but you didn’t mind. Mike would cook you breakfast when he got home. That was payment enough for you.

But you could notice he wasn’t doing well. Dark circles had formed under his eyes. He had confided in you about the actions of his Aunt Jane. He showed you the papers with bold letters proclaiming a request for a change of custody. His stress and worry made sense to you now.

He would have to prove he was fit, a big ask in a court setting, especially for someone like Mike. You had encouraged him the best you could.

But everything had come to a head on a night when Mike had intended to actually pay you.

He woke you from your light sleep on his couch, alerting you that he was home. He sat his tired body on the recliner.

“There’s a 20 dollar bill in my jacket pocket.”

His eyes are closed as he speaks. It seems the night has been a rough one for him. “You don’t have to, but thank you.” You find the jacket lying on the kitchen table. You feel slightly bad as you reach your hand in to find the bill, but your guilt falls into confusion as your fingers brush the tiny bottle inside.

You let your eyes travel over the orange bottle in your hands. You furrow your brows. You turn to face the recliner he sits in.

"Mike."

He turns his head to face you, tired eyes falling on yours. He sees the bottle in your hands and you can see a sense of uncertainty and dread fall across his features.

"What are these? Sleeping pills?"

He immediately tenses, as if he had been avoiding this topic with everyone. But he responds quietly, “Yes.”

You fall silent for a moment, unsure of what to say. Realistically, there was nothing wrong with sleeping pills. People use them all of the time to sleep. But Mike seems hesitant to cover the topic of these pills and why he uses them.

An additional concern comes up in the way he had stuffed them in his jacket pocket. Why was he taking them to work? You hate the way your thoughts sound like the micromanagement of a mother, but all you can see is the bright yellow of the custody papers and Abby’s sweet face in your mind.

“Have you been taking these at work?”

He’s silent. It’s enough of an answer for you. You sigh as you sit the bottle down on the kitchen counter. You’ve known he wasn’t well. The incident that had gotten him fired from his last job, the dark circles under his eyes, the hardness about him, it all worried you. But you had always chose to let him live. Let him make his mistakes.

“Mike, talk to me. What’s going on with you?”

He lets out a spiteful scoff as if the conversation is beneath his worries at the moment. He lets out a shaky sigh. “I feel connected to him there. I don’t know why, but I do.”

There’s no doubt in your mind who he is referring to. His baby brother. The one he couldn’t save. You let him continue.

“If I can put myself into the right state of mind, I can see it. I can watch it over and over. And if I try hard enough maybe I might see who took him.”

He voice drifts off to a quiet and weak tone, “That’s all that matters to me.”

You can tell he’s hurt by the way that his voice comes out strained and weak, and it hurts you too. It’s not as if you couldn’t understand the pain of the situation. He’d cried to you all those years back when it first occurred. What you can’t understand is how he could let it ruin his relationship with Abby. Abby who is alive and well. Abby who, even if discreet, sees Mike as the moon and stars.

“And what about that little girl who sits around and draws you all day long?”

It makes you feel like a bitch to even say such a thing to him, but if it gives him a shake maybe it’d be worth it. “What about her?”

He stands still as a statue, emotions shifting across his face as he processes the words you’ve shot at him. You’re sure they strike like a bullet. His mouth opens and closes again, so you speak again.

“I know how badly you want to bring him back, Mike. To bring him back and be able to pretend none of that ever happened.”

He furrows his brows and you can the see the hurt flood his expression.

“But you’re going to lose them both if you don’t get your shit together.”

You sigh. You hate the way you sound like a mother scolding a child. You take a shaky breath. “Do you think that this job is really good for you? I mean-“ He cuts you off with a scoff and a laugh.

His tense attitude has you uncomfortable and defensive. You hate the way your voice becomes strained as you speak. “I just think it’s taking a toll on you.”

“I need this job, otherwise I’m never gonna see her again.”

And of course you know that. He needs a job to look good for a court that’s supposed to be able to decide if he’s right to take care of his sister. But what good does a job do on paper if the court can clearly see the way his mental stability is shaky? He hesitates and meets your eyes with a tense look as he speaks,

“You’re here to babysit Abby, not me.”

You stand silently in front of him for a moment before grabbing your coat. You turn toward him. You can see the quirk of regret on his expression, but he doesn’t speak, doesn’t take it back.

“It’s gonna take more than a shitty job that drives you crazy to keep her. I think you should find somebody else to babysit Abby.”

There’s malice in your tone and you hate it. But you can’t make excuses for him. You ignore his voice as he says your name quietly. You just let the door close behind you a you walk to your car. You wait for the door to open again behind your back. It doesn’t.

He doesn’t text you either. In fact, you don’t hear from him for another week and you wonder if he’s already replaced you and plans on holding the grudge.

You assume he must have. He must have found another babysitter for Abby. It seemed he was saving money to actually pay whoever took that role.

You can’t stop yourself from becoming more and more sad as the week goes on. You find yourself worrying more and more about Mike. And Abby. There’s no doubt in your mind that Jane was still adamant on proving in court that Mike was an unfit guardian.

You don’t know why you feel as though your presence could somehow remedy that. You don’t know why you feel an ache so deep in your heart. Friendship breakups are common. But Mike was different.

You still don’t let yourself text him. You would give him the power to choose that route. To choose you and the friendship you had given him since you were both children. And by the end of the week you have to force yourself to sleep.

And by the end of the week you get what you had secretly hoped for.

━━━

The knock on your door is urgent. You're half asleep as you rise out of the comfort of your bed. Your feet press against the cold floor as you rush to see who it could be. As you glance through the peephole you're met with those familiar black curls.

You open the door swiftly, shivering at the cool breeze that flows in. He looks like hell. Abby stands at his side. You're stunned, "Oh my God." You open the door wider and usher the two of them in.

Abby seems to be physically uninjured, while Mike's face is bloodied and bruised. You whisper to Mike,

"What the hell happened?"

He looks to Abby before he answers. "Abby should get some rest while we talk." You nod immediately. "Of course. She can sleep in my bed while I patch you up."

You lead the young girl to the bed and ensure she's tucked in. She thanks you quietly before you leave the room. You grab some first aid supplies from the bathroom cabinet on your way back.

"Sit."

You point Mike in the direction of the couch. He winces as you wipe the open cuts with alcohol wipes. You raise an eyebrow, “ You look like hell, Mike.” He scoffs in response.

“So you gonna tell me who did this to you, or am I just gonna have to keep wondering?”

Mike hesitates. You stop your movements to look at him with concern. He shakes his head, “You’re gonna think I’m crazy.” You sigh,

“Mike, I know you. Just tell me.”

And so he does. He explains everything down to the little details he can remember. It sounds crazy, it absolutely does. But you can’t bring yourself to think he’s faking it.

“I know it sounds crazy, but I know what I saw. She knows what she saw.” He points in the direction of the room Abby was soundly sleeping in.

“I believe you.”

He closes his eyes and exhales a large breath. You continue to clean the cuts along his face and head. “I don’t think you’ll need stitches.” He nods. There’s still an awkward tension between the two of you. He’s upset with himself for letting you leave the way you had, and you’re ashamed of yourself for letting him push you away. You break the silence at the same time,

“You know-“

“I’m sorry-“

You can’t help but laugh a little, and he smiles weakly back at you.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry too.” You continue.

He shrugs. “You were just looking out for me. I understand that now.” It means a lot coming from Mike. He’s stubborn, not usually one to admit when he’s wrong. It makes the moment all the more sincere. You smile slightly, letting a hand brush his cheek where a bruise is blossoming under the skin.

“I wouldn’t have said what I did if I didn’t care about you.”

He nods slowly and leans his cheek into your caress. You can feel the warmth of his hand as he lets it fall to your hip. His voice falls to a whisper.

“I care about you too.”

You smile and swipe a thumb over his bottom lip, where the plush skin has split from impact and smeared blood across his pale chin. He groans as he leans up, it’s only then that you notice the large gash on his side.

He attempts to stand, hobbling on his injured leg. “Mike,” He turns toward your bedroom, ready to grab Abby and get out of your hair. When he turns his back, you can see the blood seeping through his shirt and the large tear across his back. You grab his hand,

“Mike.”

He faces you again, letting a quick glance fall to your now connected hands. “Let her sleep, she’s alright. Let me help you.”

He stands awkwardly in front of your bathroom counter. His muscles flex with each touch of your fingers around his wounds, his fingers gripping the counter until his knuckles are white.

“I think it’d be best if you took this off.”

You’re awkwardly fiddling with the hem of his long sleeve shirt. He meets your gaze in the mirror and you feel small. Your voice is nearly a whisper, “I- I just can’t see.”

You stare at the floor as he pulls the shirt over his head. The gash is messy, but not deep enough to require stitches. Regardless, it’s covered in a thick layer of blood and sweat. You usher him to turn, and you see that the cut on his side is not better.

He can see the way your eyebrows screw together. “Is it that bad?” His voice has a touch of dread hidden in its tone. “I mean,” You glance at him.

“I don’t think you’ll need stitches, but you need to clean them or they’re gonna get infected.”

He swallows and nods. You walk to the shower, turning the knobs and adjusting the water to an appropriate and comfortable temperature. You clear your throat, “Here. I’ll, uh, I’ll let you…do your thing.”

You turn on your heels to give him privacy. As soon as your fingers touch the metallic surface of the doorknob, his hand catches your free hand, pulling gently. You turn toward him, meeting his eye. He pulls you closer and carefully pulls you into an embrace. You’re worried you’ll catch his wounds with your hands so you let them hover above his skin, not actually touching. But you want to.

You can feel his breath on your neck where he’s buried his face. He speaks into the sensitive skin, “Thank you. I don’t thank you enough.” That’s the moment you finally let your hands rest on his skin.

“You don’t have to thank me, Mike. I do it because I care about you.” You gently brush your fingers across his upper back, avoiding his cut. “Besides, you’d do it for me.”

He pulls himself from your neck, and you drop your hands from his back gently, expecting him to pull out of the embrace. But he stays close to you and only pulls back enough to see your face. Your cheeks are so hot. You can feel it and you know he can probably see it. He keeps his hands at your sides, just above your hips in a way that feels respectful. You allow yourself to put your hands on his forearms, thumbs resting in the bend of his elbows.

“Your water is gonna get cold.”

It’s a whisper as it comes out. He simply nods but doesn’t drop his hands from your sides. You smile shyly at him.

“Come with me.”

Your face is instantly hot and you’re suddenly hyper aware of the steam that’s building in the room and around the two of you. With your eyes wide and your mouth opening but no words coming out, he looks at you with hesitation, like he can’t believe the words actually left his mouth.

You can see the fear building on his expression the longer the silence drags on. Thoughts are racing through your head. You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought of this. You loved him. There’d always been a flutter in your stomach and a heat in your cheeks that let you know that perhaps it could be more than a friendship. You want that. But is this really how it’s going to happen?

You imagine the two of you going from childhood friends to becoming well acquainted with each other’s bodies in the span of one stressful night after not speaking for nearly a week. But there are no alarm bells going off in your head. You can’t bring yourself to feel ashamed.

So you kiss him. With his arms still around you and the heat from his bare chest creating a sense of protection from everything. With the whirl of water hitting the tub filling your ears. With the image of Abby sleeping soundly in your bedroom in your mind.

When you pull away, he looks at you with a sense of longing you’ve not seen on him before. You don’t want to say a word, not right now. It’ll be complicated. You know it will be. And you’ll have to have that conversation eventually, but right now the only thing you want is the heat of the water and the silk of his skin against yours.

So you finally unwrap yourself from him to begin working the buttons on your shirt. You’ve turned your brain off momentarily. Your fingers are on autopilot as they remove each article of clothing. If you allowed yourself to think, you’d surely turn in on yourself from the shame.

But when you’re finally bare and displayed in front of him, he doesn’t speak. He only looks with a fondness in his eyes that goes beyond a lustful stare. He slowly works his pants off his injured figure, wincing in the process, and soon he’s just as bare as you.

You’re shaking and cursing yourself internally for doing so. God, why were you shaking? You know he notices as he reaches his hand out to touch your arm lightly, grounding you in reality, and speaks, “Are you okay?”

You nod. More than okay.

The water feels heavenly as it beats against the skin of your back. Mike hobbles into the shower after you. He’s hesitant as you usher him to switch with you. It’s gonna hurt, but it’s necessary.

Your fingers lightly brush the wound on his back. He'd already been wincing slightly from the sting of the water, but your touch has him tensing immediately. You grab a cloth and dampen it enough to be effective in cleaning the general blood and grime from the afflicted wound.

The moment your cloth cover hand touches the  wound, he cries out through closed teeth, "Fucking- fuck!" His hands are planted against the shower wall in front of him. He bites his lip, holding in the whimpers of pain, trying his hardest not to wake Abby.

"Shh. It's okay, Mikey."

You let a gentle hand fall to his non injured side, brushing his skin. You're trying to sooth his tense and pained form as much as possible.

Soon enough you have both gashes cleaned up and ready to be bandaged. Mike turns to face you in the shower. His face still has a slight touch of discomfort to it, but he smiles weakly at you.

“Thank you.”

You smile back and nod. You’ve hardly said a word outside of attempting to sooth his pain with sweet words. The cold is starting to seep in from the tiny crack in the shower curtain. You can feel tiny goosebumps beginning to form on your skin. He frowns slightly and breaks the silence again.

“Did I cross a line…with this?”

Your head is already shaking before you can even comprehend the question. Like your body knows the answer before your mind does. “No, Mike.” He hesitates in his response, standing still and quiet before stepping towards you.

He seems to be able to move around a little better. You’re not sure if it’s the water cleaning the previously irritated wounds or if it’s the adrenaline pumping through his body. Either way you’re thankful as his hands are grabbing at your face and pulling you into another kiss.

It’s sloppier than the previous kiss you had shared, and he’s pushed you back so far that your back is hitting the cold tile of the shower wall. A fog has taken over your mind as you reach around his shoulders, digging your fingers into the plush muscle of his back.

The feeling of his tongue swiping into your mouth has sent you entirely mad. You’re whining slightly at the feeling and your eyes are half lidded. You can’t even think of the fact that this is your childhood best friend kissing you. Making you shudder. You can’t find it in you to care, you want him.

“Mikey…”

It’s a whispered moan as you let your head fall back against the tile, exposing the delicate skin of your neck to his wandering mouth.

Despite his injured form, his hands are tight around you. You'd thought of this before, in the heat of the night alone in your high school bedroom, hormones taking over completely.

You'd imagined the strong grip of his hands and the contrast of his plush lips. The bite of white teeth and soothing warmth of the hot water.

It’s absolutely divine, you think. He is divine. You know you’ll have dark bruises on your neck from the way he bites. You can’t help but run a hand through the hair on the back of his head and tug slightly. The moan is elicits rumbles through your neck and you want more.

You’re absolutely drunk off of the feeling of his body being this close to yours, nearly intertwined. You don’t even think when your nails swipe the cut on his back. That is until he lets out a yelp in the crook of your neck and promptly jump back.

You’re wide eyed immediately, realizing what you’d just done.

“I’m- I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Mike.”

You can still see the remnants of a wince on his face but he laughs. And you find yourself letting out a nervous laugh with him. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

You laugh again, holding the palm of your head to your forehead.

“We should probably get out. It’s getting cold.”

You nod.

━━━

You manage to sneak past Abby’s sleeping figure long enough to grab old clothes from your room. You find yourself thanking the universe than Abby is a heavy sleeper.

You’re also thankful that you hadn’t given Mike back an old t-shirt that he had left in your home years ago. He smiles at you when you hand it to him. He puts it on and examines the familiar print on the front.

“You’ve been holding this one hostage, huh?”

You gently nudge his shoulder and let out a chuckle. “Shut up.”

You’ve layered blankets in the middle of your living room floor. You speak as you lay pillows down on the makeshift palette. “Abby is sleeping peacefully, I’m not letting you drive home tonight, and there’s no way I’m letting you sleep on my tiny couch.”

You point exaggeratedly at the “bed” you’ve created for the two of you. “Ta-da.” You let yourself fall back onto the layers of pillows and blankets. It’s surprisingly cushioned. You sigh. “Actually not that bad, Mikey.”

He watches you with a smile from his seat on your couch. “You’ve really out done yourself.” He slides off the couch and into the layers of blankets and pillows next to you. He turns to rest on his uninjured side, facing you. It’s dark in the room, but you’ve left one lamp on. You can see his features glow under the warm light. You brush a hand on his cheek lightly.

“I’m glad you didn’t die tonight, Mike.”

He snickers, but you’re serious. The thought of his face on the news, just another tragedy at Freddy’s, haunts you. “I’m serious.”

He simply stares at you. “You’re not gonna go back there, right?” He closes his eyes and shakes his head slowly.

“I don’t know how I’m gonna take care of her. I can’t keep a job.”

Your thumb brushes at his cheek, soothing his tension. “I’ll help you. When have I ever left you alone in this?” You shiver as you think of the only time you’d walked out on him after that heated argument. You push the thought away and close your eyes.

“Really love you, Mike. You’re my best friend.”

You open your eyes hesitantly and you can see the shine of moisture in his. “Love you too.”

You place a kiss on his lips. It’s chaste, but full of a deep warmth. It leaves you wondering what comes next.

You tuck yourself in close to him.

“Goodnight, Mike.”

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt #mike schmidt angst #mike schmidt fluff

[python333]

HAI! i rlly like your platonic 141 fics and I'm wondering if we could get some more dad price and/or brother gaz sleepy cuddles? :3

stretched too thin — python333

— — — —

synopsis gaz notices you overworking yourself one night and decides to step in before you end up pulling an all-nighter.

relationships platonic!gaz & gn!reader.

characters gaz.

word count 2.05k

warnings 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of pet names [love, darling], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note oh my god im so sorry i disappeared for like. a month. ill try my best to not be gone for more than a week at a time, but with all of my schoolwork and just over all stress ive been experiencing lately, i dont know if ill be able to get fics out every week :< ill try my best though! please accept this fic as an apology—its another big bro gaz one!! special shoutout to everyone else who has an older sibling thats very distant with them, you and me are in the same boat fr!! also, last thing—im thinking about making a discord server where i announce when fics are being written and published and stuff, but i dunno if yall would join or anything, so if u would pls lmk!!

You haven’t left your office in five hours. 

Recently—just about two days ago—you finished up an assignment fairly quickly and, as a result, had to write a detailed report of said assignment. It went over the mission you’d gone on, and listed off every major detail you could think of, though because you just can’t give yourself a break you were constantly thinking of other details you might’ve missed even though there was little chance you’d missed anything.

The mission wasn’t anything too important, honestly. It was originally going to be a week-long camp-out reconnaissance by an enemy task force’s base, obtaining information on their schedule and what they did throughout the day and whatnot. However, only a day into the mission, the small squad of soldiers that had accompanied you saw another small military group observing the same group you’d been observing.

So, naturally, you observed them as well. Aren’t you just the best multi-tasker?

The task force eventually found out about the other group, just a day later, while your squad was still in the clear to continue your observations. So, your mission had quickly come to a close—but, because of the circumstances under which the mission had come to a close, you were required to write an extremely detailed report on the other group and the group you’d been observing.

It would be an understatement to say you were tired. You’re exhausted.

Between the non-stop writing, the coffee sitting on your desk that’s been microwaved five times and has been refilled thrice, and the uncomfortable chair you’ve sat in that you have yet to replace, you’re extremely exhausted. Your movements are sluggish, your fingers aren’t as swift on the keyboard of your computer as they usually are, and worst of all—you still have more to write. 

Your eyes stung and felt dry, your hands felt like they were going to stop working completely at any moment, and you were overall just exhausted. 

You look over at the clock on your desk, and it reads 02:28 AM, indicating that you would only have about four hours to sleep if you went to bed now. I’m too far into this report to stop now, You tell yourself, sighing as you blink slowly at your computer screen, If only my vision didn’t keep getting blurry… 

Suddenly, you hear a knock at the door. Your eyebrows furrow together in confusion, and for a second you think you’re hallucinating until the knock sounds once more. 

Reluctantly, with a voice raspy from not using it almost all day, you call out, “Come in!” 

Your voice is softer and quieter than you’d like it to be, but it doesn’t matter too much to you at this moment—at least, not in your foggy mind that still begs you for sleep, even when you have far more of your report to finish. 

The door opens with a creak, and in walks Gaz. 

“Sarg,” He greets you, not bothering to close the door behind him as he walks up to your desk, “Pleasure to see you for the first time in, what… three days?” 

“Two days and eighteen hours,” You correct him, taking a moment to crack your stiff knuckles, not taking your eyes off of your monitor, “And you know you don’t have to call me ‘sarg’ or ‘sergeant’ or anything. We’re the same rank.” 

Gaz promptly ignores you, “Right, well, anything over a day is way too long for me to go without seeing you. Why’re you all cooped up in here on your computer?”

“‘Cause I need to write a report on my assignment,” You briefly explain, before lightly goading Gaz, “Not all of us need a shit ton of attention every day like you do.” 

“Ehh,” Gaz theatrically makes a thinking face, before shrugging, “Not sure what you mean by ‘us’, but alright.” 

“By ‘us’, I mean everyone but you.” 

“Surely that doesn’t include you, right?” 

“It does.” 

Gaz gasps quietly at your reply, before dramatically responding, “Oh, you can’t be serious.”

“I absolutely can,” You hum, finally taking your eyes off of your computer screen to look up at Gaz, “Is it so hard for you to believe that I don’t need to talk to you every waking hour?” 

“It is, actually,” Gaz scoffs, “Because I know that you do need to talk to me every waking hour.” 

“Uh, no I don’t,” You childishly argue, raising an eyebrow at Gaz.

“Uh, yes you do,” Gaz immaturely argues back, crossing his arms, “Look me in the eyes and tell me that the past two days and eighteen hours haven’t been shit because I haven’t given you any attention.”

You open your mouth to form a response but quickly close it, realizing that yeah, actually, I kind of do crave his attention. 

Fuck.

“You’re not the only person that gives me attention,” You point out, hoping to find some way to change the subject.

“Sure, but you like the attention I give you the most,” Gaz hums, leaning forward to rest his crossed arms on your desk opposite of where you sit.

“You don’t know that.”

“Then tell me that I’m wrong,” Gaz challenges you.

You narrow your eyes at him, glaring at him for a moment before sighing, “You suck.”

“Maybe I suck, but you look like you haven’t slept for the past week,” Gaz points out, “You look exhausted, by the way. And dehydrated. Actually, you just look like the human embodiment of a headache.” 

“What the fuck?” 

“I mean that in the most loving, non-offensive way possible.”

“You come into my office, accuse me of needing attention from you, then you insult me by calling me the human version of a headache?”

“It wasn’t an insult!” Gaz raises his hands in surrender, before sighing, “I’m being serious. You look dead, [c/n]. You need sleep.” 

“What I need is to finish this report,” You huff out, beginning to turn your attention back to your computer, before Gaz’s hand is quickly placed on your chin and forces you to look back at him. 

“No, what you need is some rest,” Gaz argues, more serious this time, taking his hand off of your chin—something you shouldn’t miss nearly as much as you do, the warmth of his hand fading far too quickly from your face—and bringing it back to rest on the desk. 

“Maybe you need rest, Gaz.”

“Sure I do,” He shrugs, “But I’m only going to sleep if you do.” 

You raise an eyebrow at him, “Really? You’re pulling that card?”

“I am.” 

You stare at him for a moment, mentally weighing your options, before sighing and bringing your elbows up to the table so that you can place your forehead in your hands.

On one hand, if you stay in your office you can finish up your report before four and then go to sleep, and hope that you magically feel active even with just an hour or two of sleep in the morning. On the other hand, if you go to sleep now, so does Gaz, and then you both get more than just two hours of sleep. 

After another moment of consideration, you huff out a frustrated breath and mutter, “Fine.” 

Gaz smiles down at you and walks around your desk to your side of it, holding out a hand for you to grab to help yourself up from your chair and using his free hand to save your report and power off your monitor. 

You take his hand and stand up, your legs a little weak and balance iffy from sitting down for so long, but within the next few minutes you’re sure you’ll be able to properly walk. You let go of his hand once you’re positive you won’t fall over, and once he sees that you’re able to walk, Gaz silently walks towards the door of your office. Just as quietly, you follow him. 

He turns off the lights for you and lets you walk out of the office first, locking the door from the inside and closing it once you’re out. Once he’s done, he takes the lead again and you follow him down to his sleeping quarters. It’s not too long of a walk there, only two minutes at most.

Once you’re there, Gaz opens the door and lets you walk in first. Once you’re inside and Gaz has closed the door, you shrug off your camouflage patterned jacket and toe off your already loosened tan boots, leaving you in just your camouflage cargo pants and army green undershirt.

You look down at your pants with a frown, knowing from experience that sleeping in them was incredibly uncomfortable and left you regretting your whole existence the morning after, but before you could even look over at Gaz to tell him of your situation, you felt something being thrown at you. 

You immediately turn your attention to the item that had been hurled at you—the item in question being a pair of gray sweatpants, some that would probably be a little bit looser than you’d prefer on your figure—and then look over at Gaz with a questioning look. 

“Figured you wouldn’t wanna sleep in that,” Gaz shrugs, nodding to your cargo pants in response to your nonverbal confusion. 

You hum in appreciation, not wanting to talk too much at the moment, instead waiting for Gaz to look away before slipping off your pants and replacing them with the sweatpants Gaz had thrown at you. The fit isn’t as uncomfortable as you thought they’d be—they’re loose and hang low on your hips, just like you thought they would, of course, but they don’t feel nearly as weird as you thought they would.

Once you’ve tightened the strings on the waist of the pants, you get into Gaz’s bed, pulling the covers up and over yourself. Gaz quickly settles into the bed next to you, quickly getting himself comfortable under the sheets, and pulling the covers up and over his shoulders in one swift movement.

He gets closer to you, so close that his chest presses against your back and you can feel the tip of his nose ghosting over the top of your head. He wraps one arm over your body to pull you impossibly closer to him, and his other arm snakes underneath the side of your body so that both of his arms are wrapped around you.

He hums contently and his thumb rubs small circles into your clothed stomach, the action—despite being small—causing your stomach to warm up almost immediately. 

“Comfortable, darling?” Gaz asks quietly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. 

“Very,” You mumble back, trying to subtly lean your head back against Gaz in hopes of getting at least one more kiss. Noticing your efforts, he huffs out a small laugh and presses another gentle kiss right at the edge of your hairline before pressing one last one to your forehead. 

Even with the comforting atmosphere, you can’t find it within yourself to fully relax, your body still tense and stiff underneath the blanket. Gaz, just like he did with your “subtle” movements, notices and frowns. 

“Just sleep,” Gaz tiredly mumbles into the top of your head, “You have to get up in three hours. The sooner you sleep, the more sleep you get.” 

You don’t respond, instead simply sighing and forcing your eyes closed. You do have to admit, it’s nice being able to actually close your eyes for something other than blinking, and closing your eyes for longer than half a second has made you realize that they were even drier than you thought they were. 

Exhausted and ready to finally sleep, you eventually get to a point where you no longer need to force your eyes shut, and as a result, your whole body relaxes for the first time in almost six hours. 

“G’night, love,” Gaz murmurs, feeling your body relax next to his. You hum in acknowledgment of his words, not finding the energy within yourself to properly respond, instead finding yourself drifting off into a deep sleep. 

And if four hours later, Gaz wakes up and simply lies there, not waking you and instead letting you get some more sleep despite you having to be up soon, nobody has to know.

#cod #cod hcs #hcs #task force 141 #tf141 #platonic task force 141 #platonic taskforce141 #platonic kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz #kyle gaz garrick x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty mw2 #call of duty #this is why i like the ao3 tagging system more #bro tumblr tags make no sense to me #trying my best tho!! #check me out on ao3 btw #pythonxyz :3 #python333

[just-some-random-blogger]

You Were Meant To Be Mine

Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Having decided he hated you when you were children for seemingly no reason, as you grew older, you made reasons for the Targaryen prince to repel you, which made for the most uncomfortable of atmospheres. Now that you were of age and seemingly so keen to be betrothed, your archnemesis makes it his mission to ruin your plans.

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Fem reader, you have brothers who have names ¯\_(ツ)_/¯, enemies to lovers themes, fluff, a bit violent, insufferable!Daemon, typos etc.

A/N: This is inspired by this prompt and a bit by the song from Heathers 'meant to be yours' and it honestly came out flufflier than expected. I made a fake house ok i literally just used the icelandic translation of star T_T

also I MADE AN ENTIRELY SEPARATE 10k daemon fic... do you wanna see?

psa: i did some edits on this since posting it

"Congratu-fucking-lations," I slur, feeling my entire face heat up as I smile. The lady Gemma, who I was greeting, turns about, looking for whom spoke to her, yet finding that I was crouched down, flailing my head and arms for sport.

She makes a face, "Lady Stjarna?"

I still in my actions, then perk up, shaking my head, breaking into another smile, "yes?" I inquire, then break into a laugh, "oh yes," I clap my hands together when I remember why I was standing in front of the bride, "My Lady Gemma, I am so pleased that you have finally found a match. You and your lord husband will surely-" I hiccup and slightly burp, "- make an army of beautiful children."

Gemma, my childhood friend, who had not regarded me in the longest of time and only came to invite me last minute because one of my brothers got promoted again, made a disturbed face with wide eyes, "where is your brother?"

"Why?" I pull an annoyed pout, "do you fancy him still?"

Gemma, who was standing right next to her sister-in-law, Carolina, who was too my childhood friend, but decided along the way she also did not like me, begins to twitch.

I sigh, grabbing the cup from Carolina's hand, downing its contents. Once my mouth is empty, I hand the cup back to its original owner, "glad am I that neither my older brothers, Johann nor Gunnar, not even our youngest, Ari, found any interest in you at all."

I hear the sound of the devil's muffled laughter in my head.

"You insolent wench," Carolina mutters under her breath, thinking it was soft enough for only her and her new sister to hear.

I smile wickedly, "may your womb be bountiful and may your house prosper." With a final curtsy, I turn about and walk away.

I manage to walk far enough to catch sight of the banquet table. Before I could pour myself a glass of wine again, quickly, a hand swoops in, pulling me by my shoulder, and I am faced with a face that makes my day more bothersome than it already is. It is my youngest brother, Ari, brows curled in concern. With his free hand, he takes mine as he leads me into a dance against my own will. He jests too strongly, too early, "and you wonder why so many detest your effervescent aura, sister."

I give him a pinched look as I stomp my heel in front of me in an attempt to crush his foot. Being too used to it, he quickly pulls his leg away and clicks his tongue, pulling me close to push me back into a twirl, "you have drank too much, too early."

Once I am before the young lad again, I give him a look, "when has that stopped father?"

He sighs, "you are not father, you are you, a Lady of the house Stjarna."

"I'm trying hard not to be," I grumble, beginning to circle around my brother in continuance of the dance, "as is father, Johann, Gunnar, our cousins, even our servants!" I look off in the distance as I speak, looking for the face of my father, feeling my heart skip a beat when I see him and our eldest brother Johann, conversing with the Lannisters.

Once I am in front of Ari again, my face is beaming, and it causes him greater concern.

"Father talking to the Lannisters," I tell him breathlessly, "they could be talking about my marriage prospects."

Ari's forehead tenses even more, lips curving into a frown, "does that notion truly bring you joy?"

I roll my eyes at him as we press our hands together to the beat of the music, "it does. As it should you! An alliance with house Lannister will mean you can rise in the ranks quickly to join our older brothers."

Ari is visibly troubled by this.

I clench my jaw at his expression and halt in my movements. I decide our dance is over, promptly pulling him aside. Once we are alone far enough from the dance floor, I mumble to him, "you will not understand until you are in the crosshairs of fate and you've had to raise your younger brother because your mother was killed in the cloak of night."

Ari grips my arm as we make it to the side of the room, "and I am grateful for it, for everything you and everyone has done for me! But I am not a child anymore, and I do not wish to see you wed a scoundrel for my benefit," he whines, voice growing softer but more frustrated with every word.

"That scoundrel of which you speak, is the richest man here," I mutter under my breath, "and it would do you good to-"

"Conspiring again, are we?"

The unmistakable voice rings in my ear, and though my younger brother hastily turns to whom spoke, quickly greeting him with a bow and, "your grace," I forfeit the pleasantries and keep my eyes fixed on my brother.

Once Ari is facing me again, I place a hand on his shoulder and give him a half sympathetic look, "there is nothing in the world I would not do for you, for our family. My heart beats only for the glory and survival of our house."

"But you don't-"

"And I am doing this precisely so that you would not have to sacrifice your own dreams for the same thing," I give him a pointed look and place both my hands on his cheeks, "do you understand, Ari?"

My brother averts his gaze, unable to meet mine. I release him and gently nudge him back, "now go dance and make merry. It is your privilege."

Ari sighs, bowing his head in acceptance. He then turns to the side, bidding farewell again to the man who had been standing there for gods-know-what, "my prince."

I watch as Ari fades into the crowd, still unwilling to look the said prince beside me in the eye, lest I hurl out my insides.

"What dutiful sister you are. I bet many bachelors are even willing to slay a dragon for your hand."

I let out a prolonged hum in a failed attempt to calm myself down, "why would they need to fight a dragon, pray tell, when I have nothing to do with them?"

I finally look at him, Prince Daemon, with his long silver-white hair, violet eyes, and ghastly annoying curved lips. I respond to his smirk with a stoic look and move to walk past him. He, however, in his good old fashioned pettiness, speaks in a volume too loud, "will you not even greet your prince?" practically forcing me to stop, lest I give these wenches more reason to whisper about me.

I turn about with not a hitch and curtsy, dramatically, impossibly low, and I even flash the realest fake smile I reserve especially for fuckers like him, "my beloved Prince Daemon."

The Demon is pleased by this and by how many people are watching in this moment.

I rise after a good moment passed, knowing by then a lot less eyes were onlooking. I step forward, looking up at the idiot, thinking of exactly what will wipe that smirk off his face, "heir to the iron-- oh," I look away, pretending to think, "apologies, what were you heir of again?"

Daemon eyes darken and yet he does not forfeit a laugh. He masks his annoyance in this, but I know him too well to miss how his jaw clenches. It is finally then that I turn away from him and head outside the blasted banquet hall.

I silently pass a few servants of the house and bring myself outside the building. I make my way to the gardens of the estate, surprising even myself with how I still knew place well even after the years that have passed since I last visited.

My mind begins to spiral, in thoughts most uninvited, like, why Lady Gemma, and the rest of whom I believed to be my friends, began to simply stop thinking of me as such.

I wonder if it was when I became motherless and began to prioritize teaching my baby brother at the age of 11. I sigh, wrapping my arms around myself at the thought. No matter how much I try to understand, I just don't. What changed in me that made them turn away?

Through my deep thought, I was still very much aware of my surroundings. It doesn't take long for me to feel the presence that was lingering behind me, the persistent thorn to my side that just refused to be plucked off. I didn't have to turn around to know who it was by my heels, and yet I do. I throw my skirt around me and glare knowingly at the prince who was a mere few steps away from me, "must you persist even now when no one is looking?"

"It is most exhilarating to hunt in the intimacy of an empty forest, knowing no one can interfere no matter the outcome." Daemon did not cease in his steps as he said this, and continued walking towards me, up until there was nowhere to step, and yet he pressed closer still.

I knit my brows tightly at his attempt to push me back and I place my hands on his arms forcing him the other way.

"You're supposed to step back if a man does this to you," he states.

"I will step back for no man," I grunt, successfully shoving him off me, not having moved an inch from where I stood.

Daemon reels back, only slightly, but it matters not, for he was still pushed away. He chuckles at this and tilts his head, "your strength is impressive. You have not wavered since we were children."

I roll my eyes and turn from him, continuing my walk.

The insolent Targaryen invites himself to walk to my right. I know it is pointless to argue with him about it, so I decide to ignore him instead.

"I hear you were invited to the Strong's estate recently."

I do not waste my breath with a response.

"And yet I saw your father and your brother with Jason Lannister moments before I saw your horrid face."

Daemon is not granted the satisfaction of a reply, which is why he resorts to saying, "you must have been too overbearing with your new match that your father had to quickly look for a newer one."

I am unaffected by his words, but I still choose to turn over to him, "my father is not nearly as quick about me as you are, however."

He smirks at that, placing his hands behind his back, "if I didn't know any better, you sound like you think I care for you."

"Well, obviously you do," I snap at him, "or else you would not be accompanying me in this dark deserted garden, warning me to back away if men decide to lay their hands on me."

Daemon makes a face, "you should not allow any man's hand upon you," he quips.

"None but you?!" I blurt, stopping beside him, then stomping over, "I am so sick of your arrogance! I even decided to be the bigger person between us, and yet you persist on sabotaging me, to make spectacle of my existence and force my suitors away."

For a moment, Daemon basks in the fire, absolutely in awe of it.

My rage is continuously fueled by his entertained expression, "I know for certain it was you who injured Sir Armand on his travel to our estate, and you who sabotaged the travels of house Frey to our region."

I half expect him to egg me on, to feign ignorance, and yet he says nothing.

"I don't understand what sick sense of fulfillment you earn from this, but you need to stop it and focus on destroying your own prospects."

The sound of his laugh enrages me even more, "you should be pleased I've done you a favor of allowing better suitors to come forward, or else you would have readily settled for a pig with but an acre of land."

I shudder, hands balling into fists, "so you don't even deny further, you insolent twat!"

"My detest for you was never a secret to start, my sweetheart" he breathes out hotly, a dragon baring its teeth, face uncomfortably near mine.

"You stupid fucker!" I blurt, managing to land a slap on his face and a hit on his chest before he finally caught my flailing arms and growled at me in warning. I am not intimidated in the slightest, not even with his nose nearly brushing mine, not even when both our hot breath was hitting each other's skin.

Though I am perfectly aware I am no match for his strength, considering how I am basically locked in place under his tight grip, I refuse to relent. He could kill me if he wanted, I honestly wouldn't care, for then, at least, I would not have to deal with him any further.

This is why I shout right at him without a second's thought, "I'VE ABOUT HAD IT WITH YOUR TOMFOOLERY!" I wrangle in his grips in an attempt to break free, "I would curse you never to marry and die an old lonely man, but I'm sure you would want that," my chest begins to tighten, "for there is no shame in you choosing to die a bachelor, yet it is a mortal sin of mine to even breathe the air my age without baring children!"

My face begins to crack out of anger and tears begin to build in the corner of my eyes the more I speak, "I am a shame to my house," I bark, as Daemon's grip tightens around me to further cease my violence, "to my father, to my brothers, to my dead mother especially, for living this long as a maiden! And you feel no remorse for me for you a man, a prince, born to be pacified, lest they wish to end up as dinner for your overgrown lizard!"

I can no longer withhold the tears from my eyes as I remember what happened to my beloved cousin who was unable to marry. She was far fairer than me, far kinder, and yet no one would have her over rumors planted by our rival house that she was impure.

I break into a sob. Daemon slips into bewilderment. He begins to panic, unaccustomed to this emotion. His grip on me begins to loosen. It was his mistake. I take the opportunity to knee him in the groin and shove him off me.

I watch him crumble. I nearly smile and think to bask in his suffering.

Once he is crouched in the ground, moaning in his pathetic pain, I wipe my tears and angrily spit out one last time, "make no mistake. I care not if you are prince or king. You will not stand in my way."

Daemon watches as I walk away.

Days have passed since the wedding and my most unsavory encounter with the royal idiot.

I was in much brighter moods as of late, since I was met with more options than ever over whom I could marry. In his own delight, my father decided to host a tourney in our estate. Houses of far and wide were invited to come, and just in his thick-faced fashion, the Prince Daemon decided to attend in honor of his house Targaryen.

I had begged my father not to invite him, but he would not risk shunning the crown over it. My father did make it a point to have my brothers distract the vermin, knowing too well his volatile tendencies when he is around me. It made for but a peaceful half hour for me since the time he got here.

It was too quickly he managed himself out of Johann and Gunnar's company and so rudely uninvited to mine.

The moment I saw him coming towards me from across the stand, I mentally prepared for the hell he was about to unleash, and asked the man I was conversing with to take his leave.

"What do you want?" I airily growl at Daemon once he gets close enough.

Unbothered, completely amused, and seemingly relieved, he releases a sigh, as he watches my latest proposition walk off behind me, "you seem completely out of luck, so I decided to rub on some of my own on you," Daemon started, hand darting over, gently caressing the skin down my arm causing goosebumps to ride around me.

I pull away and rub the area roughly in disgust. I turn to him, not liking the solemn expression he held, "what's it going to take for you to leave me alone, Daemon?"

He barely manages to hold in the quirking of the corner of his lips at the familiarity, the sheer impertinence of it all, "it's as though you are unaware it is my favorite sport to vex and rile you up," he licks his lips slowly and leans in to whisper, "you wouldn't want me to tell everyone about how we roughly spent the night alone in the garden, now would you."

I heave as he pulls away, lips in a lopsided smile.

I do not manage a retort, as suddenly I hear the trumpets sound, followed by an announcement, "Sir Ari of house Stjarna has challenged Sir Jason of house Lannister!"

I feel my heart leap to my throat. My jaw drops and my hands instantly sweat. Why would Ari do such a reckless thing when he barely even could go against me in a fight? He was too unconfrontational for this.

The prince watches my expression, but I could not care less about him in this moment more than ever.

The guests, who were preoccupied with other festivities, quickly make way to watch the show. I quickly make my way to my father, in hopes to stop this ridiculous match. I push past Daemon, uncaring that I shoved him in the process and hurriedly comb through the crowds. I move as quick as I could and yet once I find my father's face from across the sea of people, it is far too late. The sound of restless, chuffing horses fill my ears and the crowd cheers as the beasts whine in anticipation.

My heart races, "ARI! ARI!" I call from the side, practically begging, using all of my energy into my screams. It is pointless though as the crowd is too loud for anything to be distinguished and it seems my brother is wholly immersed in the game, face tense and distressed.

I look between Ari and his opponent, feeling my insides churn at the Lannister's dark grin.

The cue is given, and soon the two order their horses to run and go at it with each other. I rip my fingers through my hair.

Jason allows my brother the courtesy of the first blow and did not even move his lance to Ari. Ari manages to hit him and the crowd cheers, but having watched far too many tourneys in my time, I know that would not be enough to beat his opponent. The second time around when the two gallop towards each other, Jason is not so kind and hits my brother right in the chest, causing the wooden beam to break into a millions pieces.

"ARI!"

Ari has not fallen yet though, and foolishly rides once more, coming around the third time. I do not see what happens next however, for I'm making my off the stand to run to the players. I do freeze a moment when the crowd goes wild and suddenly the trumpets sound again, along with the announcement, "The winner is house Lannister!"

The next thing I know, I am on the playing ground running over to my fallen brother who was writhing on the dirt. Our servants are upon him, gathering his unconscious body up to be moved away and tended to.

I barely even get in front of my brother when a horse gallops beside me, then in front, effectively blocking my path.

Jason Lannister looks down at me, ripping his helm off, offering me a perverted smile, "do not be distraught, my lady, it was only a game, and I swear to you I have not gravely injured your brother."

I shudder at the sound of his voice, feeling my cheeks grow cold, only now realizing it was due to my tears wetting them. My insides however were burning in anger. Seeing him look down on me like this made me want to do nothing more than to shove him off his high horse. I could not show it though, not to him, not in front of everyone and my many other present suitors.

Jason's lips curve, "I do hope it would not be cruel of me to request your favor, my lady."

I sniffle, releasing a breath before choking out, "not at all." I turn over my shoulder and shout, "hand me a wreath!"

A servant runs up to me a moment too long in my taste, as I had to stare at Jason Lannister's face the whole duration.

I hand him the wreath, which he plainly gets and keeps on his wrist. I offer him a quick curtsy and he nods before galloping off, enticing the cheers of everyone. He basks in his phony glory as I take to the sidelines where I began to look for my brother. It does not take a lot for me to see him laid on a makeshift bed with our family maester attending to him.

"Ari!" I exclaim the very moment, running over to him, falling into a fit of sobs.

"Worry not, my lady," the maester speaks, as he wipes my brother's face, "Lord Jason's words hold true. He did not severely injure young master Ari."

I break into a choke, crumpling down on the floor by my younger brother's side, gripping his leg in anguish. I groan in distress, "how could you be foolish enough to challenge someone?! And Jason Lannister of all people?!"

My unconscious brother, of course, does not respond, but one of my servants do, "pardon my brazenness, my lady, but I do believe sir Ari did so because of how that... Lannister heir spoke lowly of you."

I turn to my servant and look at her in expectance, "what did he say?"

Before she could reply, the trumpets sound again, and there is an announcement, "Prince Daemon of house Targaryen has challenged Lord Jason of house Lannister!"

I perk up at the sound of that and rise from where I was, walking to my servant, "what did he say about me?"

She sighs and looks away, "he said he was doing a you a favor by marrying you, although everyone knows you would make an impertinent wife."

There is a a loud crashing sound, followed by the cheers of the crowd.

"The winner is house Targaryen!"

I look out to the playing ground and find Daemon, clad in his arrogance and his armor, mounted on a horse trotting over to me. I spare a glance at his fallen opponent, Jason Lannister, who looked far worse than my brother had, yet feeling no remorse for him.

I look up at the prince once he is finally upon me. If I hadn't known any better, he looked distracted by my tear stained face, and so I do the talking, "do you require my favor as well, my lord?"

Daemon eyes flicker up and down me. He steals a look past me, seeing my unconscious brother, then decides to ignore me, turning his horse around, trotting to the direction of my father, "Lord of house Stjarna."

My father watches the rider come closer.

The prince continues, "you held this tourney in celebration of your fair daughter's many marriage proposals, and yet your son has been left injured by a man who wishes to marry her."

Daemon's gaze falls back on me, his horse continues to gallop back and forth in restlessness, "I request that you withdraw the Lannister," he starts, turning back to my father, "my losing opponent, from her list of suitors for this reason."

I knit my brows at that, feeling an inexplicable feeling rise within me.

My father stares at him for a moment, debating the gravity of his words, before replying, "my son knew what he was getting into. Tis but a game played in good spirits. I hold not my son's loss to Sir Jason, nor should he hold his loss to you."

"Well, if you cannot remove him for that reason," the prince raises his face up proudly, "remove him as my request as a winner of your tourney."

Johann, who was now behind my father begins to mutter something behind him. My father raises a hand to my brother, then releases a breath before asking, "and why would you request this, if I may so inquire, prince Daemon?"

"Because it is my understanding Sir Jason is her strongest prospect, and I should like to be her main suitor instead," he responds, making the crowd erupt into hushed whispers.

My father lets out an incredulous laugh. Johann, behind him, looks down at the prince, brows raising the way it does in times where I begin to anger him. My father however cuts himself off when he sees the serious expression on Daemon's face, "pardon me, your grace, but you have never shown any interest in my daughter before. One would even think you do not take kindly to her."

"No, I don't, do I?" he mutters, chuckling himself, "yet you of all people know about the disruptions of her previous proposals, disruptions, you have been aware of for a long time, that I have caused-- at first due to my boredom."

My father's face hardens.

Daemon face contorts into a smirk, "I've only realized myself why I have been so adamant about causing your daughter trouble," he turns his horse over to me, catching my eyes, "very much recently."

The crowd is bustling at the notion, eating up the Prince's words like roast beef.

"When, if I dare so ask, did you realize this, my prince?"

"During Lady Gemma's wedding," Daemon turns his horse around, "when I accompanied your daughter to the gardens," he looks back up to my father, "and we roughly spent time alone in the cover of night."

Instantly, a chorus of gasps fill the air.

That fucking piece of Targaryen shit.

#daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #house of the dragon fic #house of the dragon fanfic #daemon fanfic #daemon targaryen #house of the dragon

[captain-mj]

You know what we discussed about vampire Ghost

I love you so much yeah I know exactly what we discussed

Soap continued to stare at Gaz. “You’re joking. This is a joke.”

Gaz nodded. "Look, I know how it sounds."

"'Do you? Are you sure?”

Gaz moved his shirt to expose his throat and soap could see the dozens of bites.

'Look, I shouldn’t be telling you. Its on a need to know basis, but if you’re going to pursue Ghost, I wanted you to know. Ever notice that he and Alex refuse to go into the sun with their skin showing?” Soap decided not to mention that he had already caught Ghost and had the bruises on his hips to prove it.

Instead, he turned to Alex. “This is insane. Tell him you’re not a vampire."

Alex stared at him

“Haud your wheesht!"

A moment of silence.

'’Keller, you can't be serious."

Alex and Gaz just stared.

Sorp tried to laugh it off as a joke until Alex took his thumb and exposed his fangs. Long, wicked and sharp. Perfectly concealed until Alex pressed the right spot in his gums. The skin of his mouth, specifically around his teeth and gums, had dark coloring like a corpse.

Alex made sure Soap got a good look at them, even releasing and pushing them back a few times, before letting go. “Ghost likes you. If you know, it makes things a lot easier. He can’t be all angsty about it.”

Soap continued to stare way after he pulled his hand away from his mouth. “Who else knows?”

Alex hummed. “I think you’re the last in the 141 to know. Several SpecGru members don’t know.”

Gaz quickly chipped in. “And we were eventually going to tell you when Ghost and Alex felt comfortable. I was told a little early because Alex and I started dating, but the original plan was after a few months for both of us. No one was going to keep it from you forever.”

Alex made a face that implied he could’ve dealt with Soap never knowing, but he seemed uncomfortable with the conversation in general. Soap doubted this was the easiest conversation to have.

“Ghost is… a vampire.”

“Yes.”

Soap thought about some of his Lieutenant’s habits. “Oh dear god.”

“Yeah, it’s a lot. If you need to sit down and talk, I can answer some questions.” Gaz offered. “Nothing too personal obviously, but some.”

Alex looked at Gaz with a distinct look of relief before quickly leaving the room. His hand lingered on Gaz and Soap told himself firmly that he imagined the claws there.

Soap took a deep breath. “They need to… from humans?”

“Yeah. Animal blood doesn’t actually work. The bagged stuff can get them by but it’s not ideal. It's why I let Alex eat off me."

Soap nodded. "Does it hurt?"

"A little. There's some kind of... I don't know. Toxin? Laswell said it's on the same level as codeine. Takes the pain away. Also a small bit of Draculin."

Soap laughed. "That's a little on the nose, don't you think?"

Gaz laughed as well. "Dude, that's the same thing in vampire bat spit. I didn't make up the fucking term."

Soap shook his head. "I'm gonna... lay down for a bit."

"Yeah, take your time, man." Gaz hit his shoulder and went in the same direction that Alex went in.

Soap finally let himself freak out a bit. His entire world just got turned upside down.

Vampires fucking exist.

And Simon was one.

Potentially.

The idea of Simon with his face covered in someone's blood, teeth on display, disturbed him quite a bit more than he was expecting.

Soap had no evidence that Ghost was... whatever Alex was. And maybe this was still some weird trick. It seemed really far, especially for Gaz, but still.

What better way to find out the truth than to ask the man himself? Maybe, once this stupid little event was over and Soap was reassured that Ghost was perfectly human, he could go back to normal. Maybe he'd convince Ghost to finally lift the mask up enough for them to have a proper kiss.

Soap "stalked" Ghost around base. The man knew he was there and seemed to be purposefully keeping busy around people. He would occasionally glance at him and bat his eyelashes, almost like he was teasing him.

Soap started to go through every single time he and Ghost had been outside together. He had to have been uncovered at some point. Once he had went through every memory, he realized that wasn't fair. Ghost stayed covered up. So he started thinking about Alex.

Yeah, he wore a lot of ghillie suits with masks, but clearly at some point... He worked in the middle east with Farah the majority of the time. There had to be something, come on.

Once. Alex had disappeared for a few hours after that and he had weird burns That he said were caused by the explosion. Yeah, he'd seen his face plenty and interacted with him plenty. Usually, In buildings. At night. When he was covered head to toe.

Soap's breathing started to come quicker but he was determined to keep his cool. Again, this was crazy.

Ghost finally went to his room and left it open for Soap to follow him. He turned around and sat on his bed. "Johnny. Need something?"

"Can I see your mouth?"

Ghost blinked at him. "Is that a new way to ask for a blowjob?"

"No. Like... your teeth."

Ghost stared before sitting up. "Price told you, didn't he? I told him I wanted to wait. Look I planned to tell you before we got closer. Ju-"

"We slept together."

Ghost looked at him with the giant brown eyes. "Trust me, you were never at risk of anything."

Soap frowned. "You're actually a vampire. This is insane."

Ghost stared at him. "Like I said. I'd never risk you. It's why I kept the mask on. I just... How do you tell someone that?"

"Sometime between fucking me and us flirting would've been nice." Soap said, backing up a little. Yes, rationally he knew Ghost wouldn't attack him. It wouldn't make sense for him and if Ghost really wanted to, he wouldn't do it now.

"Are you going to tell anyone?"

Soap paced around. "No. Of course not. Also, Price didn't tell me."

"Fucking Kyle."

Soap kept walking around the room, thinking to himself. "Give me proof."

Ghost's grip on the blanket got tighter. "What?"

"Proof. Show me."

Now it was Ghost's turn to think for a moment. "Alright." Slowly, he took off his mask.

Soap paused, staring. Unlike when he took his mask on in Los Almas, he had another mask underneath. It fit around his jaw and covered the bottom half of his face. It didn't hinder his movement at all, but it would keep him from biting (or kissing) freely.

“You’ll have to take it off of me if you want to see my fangs.”

Gently, he lifted his head to show the "lock". It was a simple one where you had to push a button and then twist it open. Ghost touched it and smoke came from his fingertips. Although it clearly hurt, Ghost held it for a second before pulling away. "Silver. Can't get through it. I usually have Price take it off of me when I'm eating. Or whoever I'm feeding from.”

Soap nodded. "You feed off people often?" He didn’t want to think about it. He especially did not walk to think of what it would feel like to unmask Ghost. It felt like too much. Too intimate but too sterile. It casted Ghost in a very animalistic light that Soap couldn’t wrap his brain around.

Ghost nodded. "Any time I can. Bagged stuff... is awful. I'd rather get another hook through my ribs then drink the stuff, but sometimes you have to do what you have to do. I keep the mask because I’m… newer. Still always at risk of going feral.” He looked at Soap. "I haven't lied to you about anything. Never liked lying."

Soap glared at him. "Not telling me something you'd know I want to know is lying by omission."

Ghost looked ashamed. "I'm sorry. I didn't plan on us going far until I told you just... things happened."

Soap felt a lot of feelings. On one hand, yeah. Ghost was secretive. This wasn't exactly unheard of for him. He'd hidden his face for weeks. Most people had known him for months or even years and not seen his face. Soap was definitely privileged in that aspect.

But... this was... well... A lot. Soap thought if he could hear Ghost's backstory full of betrayal and being buried alive, he could handle anything. This was just...

Too much.

The idea of Ghost sinking those fangs into someone wasn't something he liked thinking about. Or being feral. Animalistic and dangerous.

This did explain why Ghost was so cold.

"Johnny..." Ghost spoke up. "If you want to pretend this never happened, I'd understand. I'd never want to make you uncomfortable."

"I'm sorry. This is... It's just a lot."

Ghost nodded and he looked... so understanding. "like I said. I never want to make you uncomfortable. If you'd prefer we stick to a more professional relationship for a bit, I-"

"Yes. Professional. I think it's best our relationship stays that way." Soap watched it in real time. The initial moment of thinking there was more coming. Waiting for the "for now" that wasn't going to come. Simon's eyes were so sad. So convincing.

Then Ghost snapped into place. "Understood, sergeant. I think it's best you leave my room. I need to turn into a bat and hang from the ceiling." He laughed, brushing Soap off like it was nothing.

Soap hadn't expected begging or pleading for him to change his mind, but the cold acceptance that Ghost gave him hurt his chest. "Simon I'-"

"That's not how you talk to a superior officer." Ghost cut him off, staring down at him. He slid his tac gear off. "Now, like I said, leave my room."

Soap nodded, backing off. He went to his room and sketched until lights out.

In the morning, he studiously ignored that Ghost didn't text him Morning like he had for the past four months. There wasn't even a skull emoji to indicate that Ghost had slept bad and didn't want to leave bed.

He ate breakfast with Gaz and Price, staying quiet.

Price sipped his tea. "I see you're taking this better than Gaz did."

Gaz looked betrayed but that just made Price laugh. "Look, it was a crazy thing to find out okay??"

Soap hummed. "What did you do?"

"Lock myself in my room for a while. I was... I don't know. Paranoid I guess. I thought they'd eat me now that I knew or that I'd discover another one that wasn't part of my team I eventually got over it though. It eventually gets easier."

"Glad to hear that."

It didn't feel like it was getting better.

Every time Soap saw Ghost, he imagined him draining someone and he got sick. He found it hard to be on missions with him and it was obvious to everyone around them.

Gaz confronted him, looking spitting mad. "Are you serious? I told you because I... I thought you'd want to know. I did not want you to do this."

Soap sighed. "Look, I'm sorry it just... freaks me out okay?"

"You're not squeamish about anything."

"Eating someone alive is different than a dead body."

Gaz looked at him and shook his head. "Oh well. At least you found out before you and Ghost did anything."

"...So about that."

Gaz looked horrified. ''Soap..."

"Don't worry. We'll stick to being a one night stand and everything will be fine."

Gaz rubbed his face. He looked at him for a moment and then looked away. "Alright, Soap. If you think you got it handled, I'll believe. I just... I don't want anyone getting any feelings hurt."

"Don't worry. I doubt this is bothering Ghost very much."

Ghost was doing a great job of hiding everything from everyone.

Except Alex and Alejandro, who got to hear his stilted and barely audible explanation of what happened. It hurt. A lot. But it was fine. Perfectly fine.

Ghost tried not to look at Soap when he could help it. It hurt his chest.

Soap had agreed to go to Los Almas. They needed some assistance with the cartel now that Valeria had escaped. He jumped at the opportunity to get away and just… clear his thoughts.

Alejandro and Rodolfo were excited to see him. Soap felt nice, seeing both of them. It had just started to get dark but the last rays on sunshine didn’t seem to bother either of them.

He went with them, talking about what happened without giving away what he knew. Both of them kept glancing at them though, this knowing look in their eyes.

So much for clearing his head.

Rodolfo spoke up first. “We know about the vampires on your team. Price has To disclose them to people he’s working with.”

Alejandro nodded, tapping his fingers. “So if you want to talk about that.”

“I hate the idea of Ghost covered in someone’s blood. It’s…”

Revolting? Horrible? Weirdly erotic in a way that made Soap’s Catholic guilt rear it’s head?

“Unsettling.”

Alejandro nodded. “I see. I’m sure Ghost will be fine. He has a few centuries to forget you exist.” He smiled, like that was supposed to cheer Soap up. Instead, it sent such a sharp pain through Soap He almost doubled over.

Soap focused back on the mission at hand which was helping them clean out Cartel members.

One night, as he was coming back, he decided to stop by Rudy’s bedroom. It was right next to Alejandro’s quarters. He didn’t knock, just peaked in, that way if Rodolfo was asleep, he could just silently leave.

Rodolfo most certainly was not asleep. He was down to just his pants with his shoes and shirt neatly put away.

And Alejandro was there. Digging his fangs into him.

Soap froze and watched, something compelling him to.

Alejandro held Rudy with such a gentleness. Like he was a prized possession. He pulled his fangs out and Soap could see Rodolfo’s back arch when he did. Heard the tiny muffled gasp before Alejandro kissed him softly.

He spoke in Spanish, the only thing Soap understood was “my moon”. Alejandro dipped his head and started to drink. He didn’t make a sound. In his head, Soap had expected Moans or grunts, but like a proper predator, there was nothing but the sounds it drew out of Rodolfo.

Carefully, very gently, Alejandro’s hand slid down his back as he cupped it closer. He pulled away and put their foreheads together, a bead of blood running down. Rodolfo gathered it on his thumb and Alejandro ran his tongue over it.

“Need more?” Rodolfo asked in a soft voice and Soap was glad they were using words they taught him in Spanish so he could keep up.

Alejandro shook his head and held his hand against the wound. “No. Sorry I think I cut a little deep.”

“It’s okay. Not feeling dizzy.” Rodolfo reassured, cupping Alejandro’s face. They kissed again, so loving and intimate. Something there that Soap wasn’t getting.

He closed the door and just went back to his own room, not understanding why he was tearing up. Why his nose burned.

Soap reimagined the bloody scene of Ghost He had been imagining for weeks now. Instead, it was a bit more like what he just saw and he… felt he may have made a mistake.

Soap laid in bed, imagining Ghost cradling him, not some random person, the same way. Biting him carefully. Holding him together. It shook him, just how much he did want that. How much the idea excited him.

Taking into account time zones, he texted Ghost a good morning that was read and ignored. He started doing it consistently, trying to get Ghost’s attention. Ghost did send a message back. Just a simple skull emoji but it gave Soap so much relief to see.

The two continued to talk through the rest of Soap's stay in Los Almas and by the time he got the go ahead to go back to their normal base, he'd say they were on good speaking terms.

Soap felt all of the hair on his neck stand on end the moment Ghost's attention turned towards him for the first time in two weeks. He looked the exact same way he did when they first met. Not a single change.

Things melted away. Somehow, they ended up right where they were the day before Gaz told him all of this. His chest to the wall, Ghost feeling him up with his gloves.

"Simon." Soap said softly and Ghost stopped immediately, putting his forehead against Soap's shoulders.

"Johnny." He sounded like he was panting. "Should I stop?"

"I want you to bite me."

Ghost's fingers sank into the flesh of Soap's hips. "What?"

Soap scrambled to get his shirt off. "Bite me. Right here." He framed his throat.

Ghost paused, looking confused and Soap pushed his balaclava up. "I was thinking about it. You eating someone. I discredited you. I know you're not a monster, Lt. I'm sorry." He looked at the muzzle that kept him in place. It finally got through to Soap how little trust Ghost must have in himself to do this to himself willing. As well as how much trust he had to put in those around him to help him out of it. While Ghost could probably undo the lock himself, it clearly hurt even through gloves. Soap gently undid the little lock and then pulled it off of him, finally seeing Ghost's lips again. And the two fangs that decided they wanted to be seen as well where they almost pierced his bottom lip. "I was so upset at the idea of you biting someone else. That was my problem."

"You almost sound jealous."

Was that it? Definitely felt like part of it. Judging by the way Ghost was sniffing at his veins, Soap hoped imagined he hadn't fed off a person in a while. His tongue flicked out, nice and cold.

Ghost pulled his balaclava the rest of the way off and moved the muzzle to be around his throat instead. He kissed at the pulse point, pressing in tight. "Are you sure? You don't have to I promise" Despite his words, he was licking at the place he wanted to bite desperately as if to break the skin with just his tongue.

"Yes. Please. I-"

Gaz was full of shit.

It did hurt. The dull ache almost making Soap regret it.

Until Ghost wrapped his arms around him and picked him up. He didn't keep his teeth in long, quickly switching to sucking on the wound he made.

Soap buried his fingers in his hair and gasped softly, feeling pleasure spark through his veins. His legs were dangling so he moved to wrapping them around Ghost's waist. He felt Ghost's hard stomach against the bulge in his pants and nearly came like this.

The feeling of it all. It felt rapturous. So close to heaven. His stomach started to tense and his legs shake.

Ghost pulled away far too soon and Soap tugged him up for a quick kiss. It tasted a little too much of iron but the starry gaze he got from Ghost made it more than worth it. He gently pushed him back to his throat and Ghost happily continued to drink now that he had permission. His tongue lapped at the wound to keep the blood flowing.

He found himself liking this idea. That he was the one that Ghost ate from. Keeping him well fed.

The biting didn’t hurt as it went on. Instead it just felt good.

Ghost’s hand slid into Soap's pants before getting frustrated and simply tearing them to get what he wanted. He ran his hands up and down Soap's cock as he continued his meal.

Right as Soap started to feel dizzy, Ghost sped his hand up and he came so hard his vision turned dark. He whimpered and felt himself hit the bed, immediately finding himself missing Ghost’s hands holding him up. If he had the brain power to do so, he'd ask for Ghost to fuck him right then and there, but he couldn't formulate the words. Ghost bandaged and cleaned him before taking care of himself, which meant Soap was conscious enough to grab Ghost's belt loops and make him sit there for him to see instead of hiding in the bathroom.

Blood coated his mouth and down his chest, it seemed Ghost was a rather messy eater, but he was hot. So hot. He rutted into his blood soaked hand, chanting Soap's name over and over again. His face had more color in it than Soap had ever seen and it was downright gorgeous. Soap would let him drink from him again just to see that.

Ghost seemed to be having a bit of a problem, rutting faster and faster but getting no where. His frustration was leaking out and his eyes rolled back, body tensing but not letting him release. He let out a little growl of frustration that broke off into more of a whimper.

Soap squirmed over And, after wiping the blood off of his cock because he wasn’t prepared to go quite that far, sank down. He only managed to bob his head twice.

Ghost came with a harsh groan, head tilting slightly away.

"Happy now?"

"Aye."

"Fucking hell." Ghost grumbled at him before fixing his pants. He looked embarrassed.

"Simon."

"Johnny."

"Stay the night."

Ghost paused the looking for his mask. "You sure that's a good idea?"

"Aye."

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #call of duty modern warfare ii #cod mw2 #ghostsoap #cod #soapghost #ghoap

[amiavy]

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ first post!!!

Heartworm [oneshot]

✭ Scaramouche x Reader

ׂ╰┈➤ modern au / they’re in high school / idiots in love!! / fluff / light angst at the end i think!? / childhood friends / fem reader / no use of y/n

.ೃ࿐ synopsis ; you feel you and Scara’s relationship growing more distant as you enter your first year of high school. you start to feel unsure about your feelings 😱.

3,738 words

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help idk how to make posts on tumblr,, i originally posted this on ao3 but decided i also wanna start a blog so. i hope u enjoy :3 ੈ✩‧₊˚

btw he’s,,, called kunikuzushi bc i like it!

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High school is difficult. Especially your first year. It’s a completely new environment, filled with a bunch of people who always feel bigger than you. And considering the meek person you are, it’s no understatement to say that you mostly avoid getting involved with anything too big or too extravagant. You were okay with sitting alone outside in a more secluded place, eating lunch whole listening to music.

The solitude was nice. Feeling the crisp air brush along your skin was refreshing, and definitely needed after getting through crowded hallways and crammed staircases. During these small moments, you mostly felt okay with yourself.

But sometimes, it was too quiet, even for you. The elongated silences were getting uncomfortable. You just needed to be able to speak at times, to talk with someone— just like the two friends at the table beside yours would do everyday.

Occasionally, there would be some groups of kids who would come over, but that wasn’t the break of silence you needed. And yes, maybe sometimes a classmate or stranger would come over, talk for a while, but that wasn’t it either.

You did make some friends, but they were… weren’t, well... You cherished and appreciated them, but—

There was just someone in your life that you didn’t quite feel fulfilled without. And of course, who else would it be but your dear friend Kunikuzushi? Although you still went to school together in the morning most days, it was so fleeting. After that, you barely saw each other during the day.

Unfortunately, you had no classes or even lunch together. And the only after school activity you both joined was Arts Council, which happened once a week, on Wednesdays.

Wait,— today is Wednesday!

Today, you’d get to see him! Finally, after barely being able to spend any time together, you could indulge yourself in some well deserved company.

Thinking of all the topics you could tell him about, you smile to yourself and happily eat your food. You thought of talking about what happened during your week so far, and to ask him about his.

There was a prominent question you wanted to ask him, too. Did he make any other friends?

Other than you, everyone saw him as rather disagreeable— and they weren’t wrong for that! He was snarky, sarcastic, and didn’t like to talk unless necessary. Thus, it made sense for you and him to be sticking together throughout basically your entire youth. After all, the only person willing to be near him is you.

You’re able to see him as someone more than just his spiteful remarks, and so he allowed you to follow him for being “at least tolerable,” as Kunikuzushi said himself.

Being so caught up in your thoughts about him, you were pulled back to reality once you realized that the one song which reminded you of him the most began playing.

The feeling tugs a small, but sweet smile over your lips, which remained while you got yourself ready to head back to class.

Class is as boring as ever. And yet, it’s fairly different from middle school, when you used to sit beside Scaramouche at the back of the class. You remember how fun it was to make small doodles on his notebook in class while he wasn’t looking. Oh well, at least it’s last period, and you’d get to see him soon!

Soon, the bell rang, waking you up as last period ended. You were suddenly much more awake once you recall it was time for Arts Council. With excitement, you quickly pack up and make your way to the club’s room.

Many other members were already walking inside and finding seats, while you wait beside the door for Kunikuzushi.

For some reason, your heart begins pounding. Your stomach feels like it’s all in knots while you think of him. Like you were scared? Nervous? Excited? For… what?

“Hey,” A voice suddenly calls out to you. You exclaim a small wince when you feel your forehead get flicked.

“Wha—“ You were about to speak, until you realize who you were looking up at. It was Kunikuzushi. Your eyes widen slightly, and you could hear yourself stammer just a bit.

He raises an eyebrow at you, seeing how startled you were. “You’re so odd.” He simply says, brushing past you as he went inside. He looks back at you once, gesturing for you to come in as well.

You also look back at him and nod, before looking back a second time. Promptly, you followed and took a seat beside him, moving the stool a bit closer. He lightly scoffs, which makes you giggle. His attitude was always so silly.

You then turn to him, about to say something to start some conversation. However, you see two other figures approach the table, greeting Scaramouche while you direct your attention to them.

You look at the two curiously; a fair man with ashen hair and teal eyes, holding a neutral expression. His name was Albedo, who you knew from your science class. He was smart and humble, though not very social. The other boy had dark teal hair which matched his solemn expression, an amber colour accentuating his cat-like eyes. Even though you didn’t know him, he seemed to have similar energy to Albedo.

After they said hello to Scaramouche, to which he responded with a quiet hum, they both look to you. Surprisingly, Albedo greets you with your name. You didn’t expect him to know you, since he always seemed much more absorbed in his own work.

Albedo then spoke again, “Hm, so you and Scaramouche are…”

“She’s my friend,” Scaramouche answers sternly, a small sigh escaping his mouth.

Albedo nods, looking at Scaramouche with a slightly surprised expression. Once you agree, he nods once more and introduces you to Xiao, who wouldn’t say more than a greeting.

Albedo decided to sit in front of you, with Xiao quietly taking the seat beside him. Before any more words could be said, the club’s supervisor teacher comes in and began discussing today’s activities.

Valentine’s Day was soon approaching, and the council chose to prepare a cute, small photo booth. You volunteered to paint the booth’s background, to which Scaramouche agreed to help out with. Albedo and Xiao had already left the room to paint a school mural.

Everyone got to work promptly— you quickly gather the materials while Scaramouche brings over the large canvas paper, setting it over the table. He sat down once it was placed, watching as you walk over with various painting supplies.

With a sigh, he walks over to you, taking a few of the supplies from your arms.

“You looked like you were going to drop everything. Slow as ever, too.” He remarks, turning as he makes his way back to the table. You just smile, following him as you set the rest of the materials out.

“How about we do some sort of sunset? Then we can ask for some paper hearts to frame around it,” You suggest, Scaramouche shrugging in response. “That sounds fine with me, whatever you want.”

After discussing it a bit more, with Scaramouche mostly just giving passive responses and small comments, the two of you begin sketching it out. It was a rather plain sketch with not much going on since it was just a background focused on the colour and scenery.

And yet, even during such a simple task, you couldn’t help but get distracted, your eyes constantly flicking up from the paper to look at him.

Even with your unfocused attitude, the two of you got the sketch done quickly, and began painting. Your eyes were guided by the way your soft brush strokes worked in harmony with his, flowing against the blank canvas to shape colour and unity between your two brushes.

At first, the two of you continue to work in relative silence, until you finally speak, “So, how’s your week been so far?” You ask, looking up at him briefly. In that moment, he looks up at you as well, though his eyes swiftly shy away.

“It’s been the same as ever. Just some boring classes.” Scaramouche says plainly, not looking up again. You knew it was a typical response, but you couldn’t help but feel a bit upset when he said it was “the same as ever”. You wait to hear him say more— to say that he missed you, too. But you knew him, and you knew it was far too uncharacteristic.

You simply hum, nodding your head in acknowledgement. It was silent for a bit more as you both continued painting.

“…Aren’t you going to tell me about yours?” He speaks up, his authoritative voice grabbing your attention. He looks like he was forcing himself to face you as he rests his elbows on the table.

Heat burns onto your cheeks as his eyes focus onto your own.

“Ah, right,” You stammer quickly, blinking a few times. Why did it suddenly feel so tense? After years of knowing each other, you should be comfortable more than anything, right?

“It’s been… okay, I guess.” You say, “I enjoy eating lunch alone. But you’d be an exception, of course,” You laugh, sounding like you were joking, but you weren’t.

He lets out a scoffed laugh, an amused smile playing on his lips. “Obviously,” He says confidently. He then resumes his painting, looking up at you once as a signal to continue talking.

“I think I’m kinda just making acquaintances, not really friends, or something, you know?” You continue, trying to think of the right words. “I like the people I meet, but I dunno if I’d call them my friends. Maybe my definition of a ‘friend’ is a bit confusing, I guess.”

“Well, is it a bad thing?” Scaramouche asks in a smooth tone, yet mumbling a bit. He looks up at you curiously before his eyes scurry away once again.

You think about it for a moment before reluctantly shaking your head. “No, it’s alright actually. My mind’s been acting kind so it’s peaceful.” You say with a laugh, still just watching as he painted.

Scaramouche nods again. He was surprised and confused as to why he found himself somewhat glad. “Do you just plan on slacking?” He questions, giving you a teasing smile as he remarks on you simply sitting and watching him.

You frown, promptly standing up and starting to paint again. “Of course not!” You exclaim. However, some club members had already began leaving by now, so you thought about leaving soon as well.

The two of you talk a bit more about classes and work, occasionally bickering until you deice it was time to leave. After you clean up and say goodbye to everyone else, Scaramouche follows you to your locker.

He stands closely behind as you put back and grab things from your locker. Although you couldn’t see him from behind, you could feel his fixed gaze on you. His eyes scrunch slightly every time you accidentally graze your arm against his while sorting things out, but he stays silent.

Scaramouche takes a look at your decorated locker, small stickers, random decor,— and a picture of you two. He eyes it for a moment until you get up.

You opted to close the door, until he swiftly places his hand atop yours and stops you. A smug smile was evident on his face when you turned to question him.

“I didn’t know you put this up,” He asserts teasingly. It made your heart beat faster once again as you try to calm down.

“Isn’t it cute?” You ask, shrugging it off and acting unaffected. “I’m not sure about that.” He chuckles.

“But don’t take it down. That’s not what I’m trying to say.” Scaramouche says in a light tone, though clearly meaning his command.

He then closes the door, taking his hand off of yours as you put the lock back on, chasing him as he already began walking off. With a heart beating like crazy, you made your way to his side, walking to the exit together.

“Going straight home?” You ask. He hums in response, looking straight ahead.

The two of you walk through the empty corridor, not saying much. You didn’t have too much to talk about, especially after years of knowing each other. Usually, the silence would be comfortable.

And yet, it feels weirdly tense.

Every time your shoulders bumped, you can’t help but look up at him and want to see his expression. Looking at him felt different nowadays.

You try to feign ignorance to the cold, despite your mild shivering. It was early February, after all. Grass is covered in frost, and you could feel the cold air starting to nip at your face and hands. Small clouds appear at your mouth as hot breath escapes your lips, matching the sight of chimneys on houses you walk by.

Scaramouche was looking ethereal as always. His austere, cold eyes were accentuated by the season’s cool tones, additionally contrasted by the warm hue of blush on his pretty, pale cheeks which was perfectly framed by his indigo hair.

You quickly look away, placing your eyes on the snow falling instead.

After a breath, you speak, “I love the snow. It’s sooo pretty,” You happily say, “It’s really cold, but melts like magic when you touch it.”

“I know. Because it comes in contact with your warmth.” Scaramouche replies, turning his head to look at you while you watch the snowflakes. You laugh a bit at his stoic response.

There was a small pause.

You then grab onto his arm, pulling him forwards with you. “Come on, let’s stop by at the park for a bit!” You exclaim, taking him off guard. “Why would we do that—?!” He blurts, nearly falling over as you took him by surprise.

“‘Cause we haven’t seen each other often,” You tell him honestly, your voice quieting down as you lead him.

You make sure not to look at him while you spoke, so that he won’t see how much you meant those words.

“…Fine.” Scaramouche sighs, following you over to the park. It was close to your house, so the two of you used to go quite often. Or rather, you’d drag him along with you. Especially when you were kids. He’d never admit it, but he truly did enjoy going with you.

To just simply be together and forget about everything bad was heavenly— and he’s just obsessed with how you treated him.

…Not that’d he’d tell you that, of course. And obviously, he wouldn’t tell you how glad he was that you proposed to hang out for a bit. And how happy it made him when the two of you spent time alone during Arts Council.

No, he just couldn’t. Not when he was face-to-face with the risk of losing you.

Scaramouche was quickly cut out of his thoughts when you dragged him over to the swings, swiftly brushing the snow off the seats and getting on. You invite him to join you once you patted the snow off the other swing, looking at him expectantly.

He complies, sitting down as his hands loosely grasp the swing’s chains. He lightly sways, though not putting enough force to fully swing himself like you.

Scaramouche looks up at the snowy sky— or, pretends to look at the sky when he was really just staring at you each time the swing brought you high enough into his view.

He softly bit the inside of his lip, a sign of uncertainty as to whether or not he should say something.

Maybe even something about… how his chest kept feeling heavier. Suffocating, in a way. Especially when he looked at you.

At your features that were absolute perfection in his eyes. At your smile which never failed to warm him. At your starry eyes that made his breath get caught in his throat whenever they looked back at his.

“Why don’t you swing yourself?” You speak up, finally looking at him. The thought never really crossed his mind— after all, it was just pushing yourself back at forth.

“I happen to like it here. You know, swinging yourself like this is just as enjoyable.” Scaramouche says, sounding as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You hum, shrugging your shoulders. You didn’t really agree, but he was always an eccentric person. You continue to swing yourself, a small smile of amusement on your face.

Scaramouche naturally noticed it, and it caused a pleased smile to emerge on his lips as well. “Besides, you look quite foolish just going back and forth.” He mocks, sounding entertained by how idiotic he made you out to be.

You heave, frowning at him. “I do not. It’s fun. And you’re a bore,” You insult him back.

“Oh, I’m a bore?” He scoffs, raising an eyebrow. “That’s too bad. Because it seems like you’re always stuck with me.” He laughs.

“Unless you uncharacteristically run away now. Apparently even though I’m boring, you never choose to do so.” Scaramouche finishes teasingly, grinning.

You furrow your brows, glaring at him. Your cheeks heat up because you knew he was right— and it was frustrating!

“That’s ‘cause I’d feel bad seeing you alone!” You exclaim, just thinking of anything to rebut his statements.

He then grabs the chain of your swing, frowning irritably. His sudden motion caused your swing to move with uncertainty, making you hold on tightly until it finally stopped.

“Stop that!” You utter, playfully hitting his arm.

The two of you continue to bicker for a bit as usual, every so often talking about recent events and how school has been treating you. You liked having insight onto his life. And he liked having lots on yours.

You eventually slow down on the swing, resorting to weakly swaying just like Scaramouche as you continued to chat.

“How about Xiao and Albedo? Are you friends with them?” You ask, continuing the conversation.

“Mmm. I don’t know what you would consider a friend. But I guess I consider them acquaintances.” Scaramouche shrugs, not putting much thought into the other two boys.

“I just talk to them in class sometimes, when the teacher forces us to ‘discuss in small groups’.” He notes, rolling his eyes as he recalls his teacher’s ways.

“But, uh—…” Scaramouche starts to stutter, looking down as he seemed to consider his words. He sighed again.

He then brought his head up, turning to face you. “So, you and Albedo knew each other?” He breathlessly asks, his expression rigid.

His sudden behaviour took you a bit off guard. He always seemed so stern and sure of his words.

“Yeah, somewhat?— Well, not really, actually.” You stammered, thinking as you spoke. “We’re just in the same science class. He seems to like his work more than people, so…”

Scaramouche nods, his face relaxing. He looks back up at the falling snow, which had accumulated on the ground much more.

The air was much colder now that time had passed with the two of you just talking. The sky dimmed into a cool blue, signalling evening’s approaching.

There was a comfortable silence between you two. Well, you tried to think it was comfortable. Honestly, you were battling your feelings with every bit of your rationality left.

You tried so hard to tell yourself that you were okay with being friends. Friends. And nothing more. But after so long, you knew that all you wanted was more.

For Scaramouche, it was the same. All he wants is to keep you by his side forever. From childhood until eternity, you are what he wants. But not just like this.

If he had to shamefully admit it… He wanted you like the cheesy couples you occasionally watched during your many movie nights.

He hated the thought of how vulnerable you made him. How you could so easily make him weak. If you just asked, he would love you so ardently, more than anyone could.

You were both plagued by these thoughts, and you both knew you had to do something. It felt like you couldn’t breathe, and the silence that filled the space around you two, which you tried to think was comfortable, was really just full of tension and thickening air.

“Scaramouche,” you grabbed his attention, making him face you, “I’m really glad we got some time to ourselves today.” You say, your voice soft yet a bit hesitant.

Scaramouche let out a heavy breath as his mind seemed to conflict when he stared back at you. “…I am too.” He unusually confesses.

There was another pause between you two.

“I hope we’ll have lots more times like this. I… really do miss being near you all the time. It’s different.” Your words made Scaramouche’s eyes widen slightly. There was a pounding in his chest, making him clutch the swing’s chains a bit tighter.

His lips trembled a bit before responding, “We will. Don’t worry. There’s lots of time for us.” He says sternly. “If our schedules become so packed that they keep us away, then I’ll take care of it.”

There was that feeling again. Your heart started beating faster, and despite the cold outside, you felt completely warm. You hoped Scaramouche felt this way too— that the pinkish hue on his cheeks was because of his feelings and not the cold.

You smile at him.

“That’s good to know.” You giggle. “I’ll do the same, then. Promise?” You ask, reaching your pinky out to him.

He scoffs, but places his pinky out to entwine with yours anyway. “In high school? Still? Very childish, but not unexpected.” He says, still poking fun at you.

You roll your eyes and made a pinky promise, not pulling your finger away yet. You want your touch to linger more, even if it wasn’t necessary. Though, he didn’t seem to have any objections.

After another quick squeeze, you carefully pull your hand away and stand up, getting off the swing. “Let’s get home now, it’s getting way too cold.” You tell him, a shiver running down your spine.

There were still lots of unsaid words. Many things still buried. So much yearning.

But for now, with the way you tug his arm along to get home, perhaps it was better for you both to stay quiet.

————————

hell yea i can be pretty cringe! i’m surprised if u read this far ily <3

#scaramouche #scaramouche fluff #scara fluff #genshin scara #genshin impact #genshin x reader #scara x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #scara x you #scaramouche x you #am i doing this right? #avy/ami’s stuff ✮⋆˙ #woah i can do that

[amaramizuki666]

identity crisis part.3

   ‘tim’ felt safe, he felt warmth surrounding him. he didn't understand, was he dead, he doesn't feel dead. ‘tim’ opened his eyes to find himself in a fluffy bed.

He sat up swiftly in a panic, his hand flying to his shoulder. 'Tim' hissed under his breath as he felt his bandaged up shoulder.

"Good your up" a guy around 'Tim's' age spoke as he walked into the room. 'Tim' snapped his attention to the guy. His eyes glowed Lazarus green and what should have been the whites where black, his skin a pale green, his hair snow white and wispy.

He had long pointed ears and sharp fangs. He was wearing a sorta black jumpsuit with a white D on the chest. He also had a cape that looked to be made of stars.

Above his head was a crown made of aroura and a ring of light on his middle finger. 'Tim' couldnt help but stare, the man before him was incredibly handsome. "Um where am I? Did I die? Who are you?" 'Tim' spoke. The man walked over to 'Tim's' bedside.

"Firstly your basically in the ghost equivalent of a hospital, two no your not dead, and three my name is phantom, but you can call me Danny if you wish" the guy-Danny says with a gentle smile. 'Tim looked him in the eyes "if I'm not dead then why am I in a ghost hospital?".

Danny let out an amused hum "well before I answer that can you tell me what you remeber?".

'Tim' tore his gaze away from Danny's, he is unsure if it's safe to say anything about himself or what happened.

Danny saw 'Tim's rejection to the question and sighed. "how about I tell you what I know" Danny says and sits on the bed.

'Tim's eyes drifted back to danny. "I found you in green glowing goo, with a bullet hole in your shoulder and a stab wound in your gut" danny says and 'tim' felt is body go rigid in realization.

'Tim' pushed himself slightly away from danny "how did you get my body from the Lazarus pits? I know I should have sunk to the bottom". Danny snorted "you summoned me that's how".

'Tim' tilted his head and arched his eyebrow "summoned? What do you mean? Whst are you?". 'Tim' couldnt help being inquisitive, he may not be the Tim but he still had his originals memories.

Danny smirked at 'Tim' flashing his fangs. The man grabbed 'Tim's' hand and brought it to his lips, laying a gentle kiss on his knuckles.

Danny's lips where cold, but not in an uncomfortable way, but in s way that felt pleasing. "Well my dear, let me properly introduce myself. I am danny phantom king of the infinity realms, the balance between life and death, and holder of the stars. And you summoned me with the offering of the blood of a hero and made a deal with me to save your life" danny says.

"Deal" 'tim' inquired. Danny smirked and leaned in close to 'tim' "yes in exchange for saveing your life you would be mine". 'Tim' leaned closer to danny till their noses touched "in what way am I yours".

Danny pulled back and tilted his head, far more than any human could. And smirked at tim flashing his fangs " in what ways do you want to be mine". 'Tim' laughed awkwardly and joked "when's the wedding". "In 3 days" Danny answered without hesitation.

'Tim' sputtered " I WAS JOKEING!!!" "I wasnt" Danny laughed. "Anyway love I never did get your name" Danny says proping himself on his elbow.

'Tim' wasnt sure how to answer. He wasnt Tim, it didnt feel right using his name. "Uh Drake" 'tim' stuttered.

Wait no, that's so stupid why would he say drake! But then again 'Tim's' original did go by 'the drake' at one point sooo mabey they both arnt very smart.

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

Also feel free to add on your own stuff too, I love seeing people's stuff.

Part 2

#writing prompt #writing #danny phantom #danny fenton #dc x dp #dc #dc comics #batfam #my writing #dp x dc au #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc #dp #danny x red robin #clone tim #danny x tim #ghost king danny #ghost king au

[yanderes-galore]

your prompts 53, 60, 29 with lmk Red-son Pleas <3

I can try, sure! Sorry if something is OOC... still new to the fandom :) I'm only on like Season 2 currently but I LOVE it so far!

I know Red Son should be a very prideful yandere... but I also like the idea of him being soft once he finds the one he adores.

Yandere! Red Son Prompts 53, 60, 29

"I left you a few voice mails, why didn't you pick up?"

"You feel like you're being stalked? Tell me all about it...."

"I want to be this close... forever...."

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Denial, Manipulation, Clingy behavior implied, Stalking, OOC soft yandere (?), Somewhat lucid yandere, Dubious companionship/relationship.

Red Son never really found the appeal of such close affection. It wasn't something he experienced that often as a demon. Leading him to feel rather guilty or embarrassed upon receiving it.

Red Son barely had any friends. Always so arrogant and dramatic, often associated with the Demon Bull King. He didn't mind... he didn't think he needed such a thing.

Then he met you, always hanging around MK and his friends...

He couldn't get you out of his head after that.

You are the only person he could consider himself close to other than his family. It took him a long time to be able to approach you... yet he did eventually. Now you're no doubt one of his only friends.

Which leads him getting a bit too attached... a thought that embarrasses him to his core.

However... Red Son yearns for approval. He yearns for your attention. Sometimes the only way to get such attention is by calling you, or spying on you.

You can tell how close Red Son wishes to be with you through every call. Finally discovering a new friend and possible crush he wants to be around all the time. He was originally uncomfortable being vulnerable with others due to his heritage.

You became the only one he could vent to and be open with.

His phone calls are often moments of vulnerability, ranting to you and bragging about things he's done. Although his calls become so frequent you can't answer all the time. Which leads to a frantic Red Son finding you with worry in his eyes.

"I left you a few voice mails, why didn't you pick up?" He often asks, uncharacteristically clingy towards you. At first, you really can't blame him. You are his closest bond, after all.

Then you start to feel like you're being watched.

Red Son already considers himself villainous. Surely "stalking" is a villainous way of "courting", right? It's supposed to feel wrong... right?

Red Son tries to keep such urges and activities private. Yet the demon can tell you're nervous whenever he's around. Do you know?

Eventually he visits you, knocking on your door to see you open it. The demon surprisingly frowns when he sees the fear in your eyes.

But he acts curious, like the attentive "friend" he is, asking you what's wrong.

"I feel like someone's watching me when I'm alone." He hears you whisper. His heart nearly stops but he continues to play his part.

"You feel like you're being stalked? Tell me all about it...." Red Son answers, sitting beside you in your home. The heat inside of him flares when you look at him with sad scared eyes.

Red Son wasn't expecting to be the one you confide in. He isn't used to it... and part of him feels guilty that he caused it. Yet at the same time...

Your attention feels fantastic.

Even when you ask to hug him, Red Son was expecting himself to say no. But... with a red hot heat in his cheeks, he finds himself pulling you close. He's the one to cause you torment... yet he's also the one to provide you comfort...

He should feel bad... but he's beginning to like it.

"I want to be this close... forever...." He finds himself whispering to mostly himself, his grip digging into your sides. The feeling is addicting. So much so Red Son hopes you never find out that he's the cause of your problems.

Yet eventually you will... he'll slip and you find out his dirty little secrets...

Leading to him to find a way to create a mechanical prison to keep his dearest companion beside him.

#yandere lego monkie kid #yandere lmk #yandere red son

[yaut-jaknowit]

To Break Apart

Pairing: Uihoy (Male Yautja) x GN!Reader x Vic'tao (Male Yautja)

Warnings: Warnings: Self-harm, depression, heavy emotions, hurt/comfort, fluff, comfort after an anxiety attack.

Word Count: 4925 (Remember when I said I would write less than 2000... welp)

Summary: Your partners are hunters, skilled hunters. Which leads to them going on their hunting trips together and leaving you on their ship. Alone. By yourself. Sad. Despite thinking you could do this, just get through it. You're an introvert, this is fine. No, everything wasn't fine. You break apart.

Author Note: Angst, heavy angst guys. I'm warning you guys. The next few I have planned are also angst. Don't know why but I did choose those.

Masterlist

Ao3

Everything can happen in a snap of fingers. Losing someone close. Break ups. Friendships ending. All those can occur in a second. And there’s nothing you can do. Nothing to stop it from happening.

Everything was ripped away when you joined them. It was reckless, stupid! How could you do that?! Now alone in the expansive universe, on a space ship. Those two… aliens, that you love – loved? off, away, gone on a hunt. They left you alone! How could they?! Alone on their ship. Alone to your thoughts. Alone with nothing for comfort.

Tears ran rivers down your cheeks. They were never ending, never stopping. You curled up tighter. It was dark. Nothing to be seen. Your memories foggy on how you got here. Cramped, tight, the walls pushing into your sides. Despite hating small places, the comfort it offered helped. Not by much, but helped you from spiraling too far down the hole you’ve fallen in.

Vic’tao and Uihoy keep their ship warm. Yet, your body was trembling, shaking worse than a leaf in a storm. As if your freezing. It felt like you were dunked underneath ice cold water. All alone to deal with this feeling. I choked on a sob.

Pain raced up your right arm. Your wide eyes snapped down. Blood seeped from scratch marks. Huh, I… Underneath the nails on your other hand was blood and skin. You shoved your injured limb between your thighs which were drawn up to your chest. You cried out, the sound echoing back at you lonely. Your eyes squeezed shut to stop the shed of tears. More just fell.

.

The ramp lowered. Vic’tao was the first to take a step towards the entrance… Some heavy hit him. Not physical. A smell, pungent scent filled Vic’tao’s refectory sensors. He tensed up, eyes narrowing before snapping to Uihoy next to him. A horrified look on his partner’s features. Their gazes met, a silent conversation quickly spoke.

Both Yautjas were up and into the ship within a second. Blood. They smelled blood. Mixed with your scent. Their feet thundered on the metal floors of their ship, each racing to find you. Vic’tao and Uihoy’s senses were locked in and searched for you.

Uihoy slid to a stop at the entrance of their trophy room. A glorious array of skulls on display, something he promptly ignored. Vic back pedaled to follow the purple Yautja. Uie sped into the room without an regard to his partner following him.

Sounds, sobbing, whimpering. The scent of blood was thick in the air, uncomfortably so. Even as hunter, one that’s used to be bathed in it, this made his scales crawl with a terrible feeling. His pink tongue flicked out to taste the air and detected the direction of it. He was moving before his mind knew what was happening. His tongue led him towards the origin of the smell.

He stopped at a closed-door panel. Behind him, Vic skidded to a halt right on his heel. Vic scent the blood and their ooman’s odor the strongest. He heard quivering breathes. Uihoy slammed a fist on the door. It popped open. Uie grasped the door and nearly ripped it off the hinges.

There you sat. Blood and tears coating part of your skin they could see. Uihoy was down on his old knees within a second, hands coming to pull you free.

When your eyes snapped up to met his own blazing gaze, Uihoy paused before slowly retracting his limbs back to his body. Calmly. He had to do this calmly. You were in a fragile state, mentally. He’s read about this from ooman internet. Thankfully so.

His head turned to peek at Vic’tao kneeling next to him. His own irises pinned on their distressed partner. Uihoy knew Vic was struggling to hold back, to keep from yanking them free and squeezing them close. Anything to make sure they were okay. That nothing serious was physically wrong. Vic can fix that part… when it comes to emotions, the Yautja comes up short. So, in the moment, he forced himself taunt and waited.

But, the sight of blood had Uihoy antsy to hold you, to soothe you, to tell you everything was okay. His arms shook, one resting over his bent knee. His palm on the other limb grasped at his muscular thighs. Sharp nail threatening to slice through thick hide.

Vic’tao held unsteadily in his spot. Much to his dismay.

For Uihoy, the purple Yautja inched a hand in your trembling direction. Those wide, tear filled eyes zeroed on the limb. Yet, you didn’t make a sound or move that alerted him not to. So, Uihoy continued every so slightly.

Minutes go by sluggishly. It took forever for that limb to make contact with you. You did not move, eyes locked onto him hand. Uihoy quietly sighed, mandibles twitching in thought. He used that hand to softly touch your chin and tip it up. This forced your eyes to snap to his alien face. More tears fell, rolling down your cheeks like hills before dropping off the cliff of your jawline.

He watched, so closely, so intensely. He observed all that swirled in your big eyes to figure out what he can do next. Uihoy brought up a leg, foot flat on the ground and pushed himself forward. The movement didn’t have affect on you. Good. Then, the next leg. This pushed him to be buddied up with the cabinet. Not that he minded, not at all.

Uihoy ducked his head to bring it close to your face, close enough to see the texture of his irises. With an upper mandible, he barely skimmed your cheek and wiped away a stray tear. In his language, he chittered to you with calming words, softly spoken.

Just by your face, he could read that you did not want to speak. As for himself, his ooman words wouldn’t help. He didn’t have a full grasp of English yet, not like Vic’tao.

Instead, Uihoy raised his free limb and brought it to your cheek, holding you in place. Words failed him. He didn’t know what to speak. He didn’t want to question what had happened. All that he could read right now was you were in an unstable state. The ship had not been attacked, meaning you were safe. That lead him to think this was internal. Something had happened with your thoughts.

His short mandibles wiggled in thought. Uihoy finally moved his limbs to scoop you out of the cabinet and into his hold. The moment you were free from the small space, your tiny arms encircled his neck. Your teary, flushed face buried into the crook of his neck. Uihoy held strong, firm limbs coming to wrap tightly around you. You were theirs.

Once you were out and in his arms, he rolled back to sit on floor with his butt. His legs curling up to keep you pressed firmly to him. It was his silent way of saying you were safe with him, with them.

Vic’tao came into the picture. The young, lethal Yautja moved behind you, in front of his Yautja partner. His blazing eyes found Uihoy’s and chitter lowly to him. “Can I touch?” Uihoy watched the younger male for a few breaths before nodding his smaller head. The yellow and blue male took a lungful of air in and closed in.

Hands, calloused from hundreds of years of hunting and vigorous training touched your fragile skin. A palm cupped the side of your chin. His other hand snaked between your body and Uihoy’s to press at your heart. It was fluttering fast, quick, loud in their ears. Like it was on the verge of breaking from your ribcage. He was the first to start up a deafening purr as if that’ll draw you out of your thoughts.

Next came Uihoy with a strong, more grumbly purr that sent vibrations throughout your body. His form squeezed you, as if to send a reminder.

Two massive, heavy, thickly corded bodies surrounded your much smaller body. Like two wolves protecting their mate. Vic’tao had rested his head on your stomach. Your legs were over his torso as he rested on his side. Though, Vic had a strong hold with your thigh.

As for Uihoy, he firmly kept his head on your chest, hidden ear pressed to your heart. Despite you being a lot tinier than them with their huge dome heads, they somehow fit on your torso together. Uihoy was wrapped around your upper body. An arm thrown over your torso, curling underneath. Then the rest of him was trying its best to keep contact with you. Your head was to his chest/midriff area. His other hand held yours, fingers slotted between yours.

After what felt like hours, your hoarse voice broke the quiet air. “I miss home.” The words were barely audible with how rough you spoke.

The two tensed. Uihoy held your hand tighter. Both of their thoughts were going absolutely haywire. One question that plagued their mind: does this mean you wanted to leave them?

Uihoy swallowed his pride. “Are ooman wanting home?” It hurt his old heart to ask such a thing. You were the best thing to ever happen to them. Such a precious, sweet, comforting being that warm their hearts at the sight of you.

An itchy silent fell over the group. Not even the ship dared to creak in its older age.

You swallowed thickly, the sound loud. Uihoy felt it. “N-no… I don’t, don’t know. My family…” What are they thinking? Are they worried about you, where you’ve gone? Have they even heard the news? It’s been almost a year since you’ve left earth to be with Vic’tao and Uihoy. “I miss them.”

No one else spoke. They let you have the moment to vent, to speak your mind in the safety of their bedroom. Even yourself decided to let the silent take over. Your thoughts running amuck inside of your muddled mind. It was hard to decipher what any of it meant.

Life was confusing right now. You were at the stern of it but had no clue what direction you were heading. No one warned you of what space life was like. You were starstruck with the idea of being out space. Out here, away from the worries of life.

That sounded perfect, didn’t it? No one could tell you that being out in space, with only two other people to talk with, wasn’t easy. Humans are social creatures. That you’ve heard countless times. No matter how introverted you were, humans needed someone to speak with.

Your mates, your partners, they had to leave at times. Days at a time, maybe weeks to hunt. They left you alone to your thoughts with nothing but yourself. How could a social creature live that way?

Each Yautja had their ears tuned strictly on you, waiting for you take lead, to speak of your troubles. Unlike the vicious species they are known to be, they were patient and kind to let you lead. Uihoy squeezed his hand. The touch pulled you free from dangerous thoughts.

“You keep leaving me.” There, it was said. “You keep going on your hunts, leaving me beh-ind.”

It wasn’t just your family that plagued you. Many things were building up to this moment, it was only a matter of time until the eruption happened.

Each Yautja tensed, thick muscles coiled tightly as if ready to spring. Uihoy couldn’t believe what you said. His heart seemed to stall in its thunderous cycle of pumping his neon green blood. The roaring purr that filled his chest stuttered to a stop as he stared up at you from his spot on your chest. No… no, no, no. A pathetic, pained whine sounded from him. You weren’t looking at him, just staring off at the ceiling.

Vic’tao felt a bitter anger rising in him before a raging guilt filled his veins the very second afterwards. Worse of all, the anger was directed at you with a question: how could you think that way with all they’ve done for you?! But the ask was swiftly killed and discarded like trash. Vic scooted somehow closer to you, trapping you against himself and Uihoy. No room for escape. You were theirs.

“Why do you feel this? We don’t leave you behind. We go and hunt for you, to bring back trophies and meat. To feed our mate. Is it not enough?” Vic’tao fired off. A trickle of leftover rage filled his words by accident before he destroyed it completely. He sat up to look over Uihoy and find your teary eyes. The hold on your leg stayed despite the change of position for himself.

Your gaze refused to meet him until he moved closer to lean over Uihoy. “I hate being alone. I don’t know when you’ll come back, if you’ll come back. I’ve lost… I’ve lost a lot of people in my life. Even when I left my own planet to live with you guys, I left a couple of people behind. And what happens if you two die? I get left behind! Always…” you cried, words gaining volume and force. Your nails were biting into Uihoy’s hand but he ignored it. Not like it hurt anyhow.

The yellow Yautja was at a lost. He did not understand… these feelings. It’s not the way he raised or the experienced he lived through. Instead, he used a knee to nudge against Uihoy. It was his turn to butt in and take Vic’tao’s place. Vic’tao had to hold down the new rage that raced to life when you insulted him, saying he’ll die. You said it like he would go down easily. That he wasn’t a strong, capable hunter.

Uihoy let the air in his big lungs to escape with one rush. “Little hunter….” If only you could understand Yautja easily. “Vic and Uihoy will not leave ooman. Little ooman Vic and Uihoy’s. Not loose Vic or Uihoy. Ooman will not get left behind.” It strained his vocal cords to speak the dialect but he did. Then, he leaned up to rest on an elbow and bowed his head. His brow touched yours, softly rubbing against you, like a cat. “You are ours. We will not leave you behind, ever,” his words now spoken in Yautja, a language you have yet to pick up. One day.

This time, an idea came to Vic’tao. The two of them have been training you, slowly but surely. “How about this… on hunts we deem safe for you to join, we’ll let you come with us?” Vic offered a peaceful term. “But only if its safe for you. We will not purposely endanger your life.”

Your thoughts stuttered to stop before being filled with his offer. To join them. To be like them. A minute smile passed over your features. Your body softened once more. “I would like that.” Just something to bring your trio closer to each other, your family stronger.

The two of them started to purr with content again. Both aliens returned to their spots originally, everything cleared.

“Anything else you need to speak about?” Vic’tao questioned, voice sent vibrations up your leg that he was still holding onto.

After a heavy mood, you changed it up to be more relaxed and playful. “Actually, yeah. Can you stop watching me bathe, it’s not normal. Every time.” Vic’tao grumbled that ended in a huff. The hold on your leg tightened.

“I’m just trying to protect you, my mate,” is his reason. Well… “You wear too much; you hide too much of your skin from us.” That to. You snorted airily and shook your head. God, these two.

Living with aliens had its ups and downs, ones no one could ever warn you about. It was all a learning experience.

Warnings: Lip chewing (self harm)

Relationships have its up and downs. They can go sideways. Very, very quickly. As for yourself, you’re not very experienced with relationships. Let alone, two partners. That didn’t even scratch the surface they’re aliens, a predatory race that has hunted your kind before. It wasn’t that that disturbed your sleep or make your skin crawl.

In all honesty and to the end, you loved them. It took time to get use to their different personalities, looks, and the way they act. Completely different from the humans you’ve dated in the past. Skulls and bones were given instead of roses or jewelry. You were confused on why they would give them to you. You just thought they were being nice and friendly about your hobbies, including collecting things from the ground. Their little scavenger. A collector of things.

Before long, you had fallen for them naturally. Soon, it was everyday you wanted to see them. It wasn’t always possible to do that, hunting and all. Plus, they had to keep you a secret, specially in the beginning. Or else someone would be more than happy to challenge their claim before you were comfortable with them. The dangers of that had them fretting and tense. That’s a story for another time.

Today, the boys were out hunting. They stated it would take about four turns of this planet’s sun to return to you. The days were around twenty-eight hours here. Close to how Yautja Prime works.

The first day was never this hard. You didn’t rise out of bed until the need to pee was strong enough to rouse you. Even then, you just returned back to bed. The pelts they have collected over time covered your frame. Warm but it didn’t bring comfort. Their scent was present, it layered your skin. It didn’t calmed your wired nerves.

While in bed, you chewed horribly at your lip to the point it began to bleed multiple times. The taste didn’t disturb you. The blankets were pulled closer to your body, as if trying to reimagine what Vic’tao or Uihoy’s arms felt around you. Yet, it wasn’t the same.

Tears sprung up in your eyes.

On the second day of their hunt, nothing had changed. The pelts stayed blanketed over your frame. Only a small hold for you to breath out of. At this point, your stomach snarled for food, anything of nutrition. A headache rose from the lack of water. That was the only reason you got up and lumber into the kitchen.

A water bottle full of water was carried back to the bedroom. Your arms seemed to shake. From what? You had no true answer. You collapsed back into the concave space as your bed. A blanket was brought to our face. With a deep breath, you sucked in a lung full of the boys’ scent. The shaking were starved away.

As you laid there, your bottom lip wobbled. Tears prickled the corner of your eyes. The shaking started up again.

Weirdly enough, your brain couldn’t make up its mind. Confused and overwhelmed with strange, conflicting emotions, you cried until falling asleep again. The dreams weren’t safe either.

Another day passed to arrive at the final one. The last one where they would be returning. Nothing food wise had been consumed this entire time. You stayed trembling like a leaf. A horrible feeling sat in your sternum, pressing against your heart and lungs. You quivered and sobbed.

Home. You wanted to go home. Out here, alone. It wasn’t the life you signed up for. At first, the beginning month wasn’t so bad. Living in a confined space was hard with two extra bodies in the mix. Though you loved them with all of your heart, you were struggling now. And they were out there, hunting. They weren’t helping you, not holding you in their arms and whispering it’s going to be okay. The hunt. The hunt. The hunt.

Why weren’t you important enough to have them stay with you? You sobbed brokenly at that horrible thought. It struck you deep in your sore, bruised heart. ‘Not important’. Nothing to them. Your cries grew in pitch, shaking your whole body with them. It hurt, deep and striking. You clenched your teeth together to try and quiet the pathetic sounds you were making.

“I wanna go home,” those words barely audible but Vic’tao and Uihoy heard them the moment they entered their ship. Uihoy’s head perked up, locks slapping against his purple and green skin. Those bright eyes met his partner’s next to him. Then they heard the cries of pain and sorrow echoing through out the ship.

They acted the very next second without hesitation. It was two bulls stampeding through the halls to the origin of the sounds. Their feet pounding loudly on the metal floors. Vic’tao turned first and slid slightly to the side. Uihoy did the same. His frame heavier than his partner’s. He knocked into Vic before darting in the new direction. Vic, right on his tail.

The shared bedroom stunk of sorrow and salt. Vic’s upper mandibles scrunched up as the smell assaulted his scenes once the door slid back to reveal their room. Nothing much had changed with the way it looked. Movement caught his bright eyes. The bed. Covered with pelts and blankets mixed together. A form moved underneath the pile. You. Their little human. His shoulders sagged at the relief to know you were okay. No scent of blood…

But why where your eyes leaking.

Before the yellow and blue Yautja had time to move towards you, Uihoy was already in motion. The purple hunter knelt down in the concave oval shape of their bed. Your scent was thick, extremely thick. A hand reached out towards the blankets and began to pull at them.

Something tugged at your blankets covering your trembling form. A yelp pierced the air as you held on the fabrics even tighter that your joints ached.

“Little Hunter?” It felt as if the fogged and white noise that filled your ears was spilt. Your shaking halted harshly. The voice all too familiar. You ripped off of the blankets, which took you a moment to find where the ends were. Hope in your eyes shined brightly as you breeched the surface.

There in all their glory stood Vic’tao and Uihoy. You sobbed with relief and rushed them. Both of your shaking arms wrapped around Uihoy as he was the closest. Your face buried into the crook of Uihoy’s neck. The Yautja was stunned for a moment and knelt there for a moment before embracing you fully. A heady purr vibrating his chest against yours. A soothing touch as it rolled over your skin. But you just sobbed into his skin, wetting it with salty tears.

Even Uihoy was frozen on what to do with you; and he’s the more affecticate one between the two. For the time being, he just held you in his strong, sturdy arms. Vic’tao knelt behind Uihoy and peered over his partner’s shoulder to look down at their tiny, trembling ooman. The yellow and blue Yautja softly reached and brushed away a tear. “What’s wrong, little ooman?” he said in a hushed, grumbling voice.

Your nails were digging into the purple scales but gave no pain to the owner. He didn’t even react, let alone feel any discomfort. Uie placed a massive hand on your back and softly stroked the length of your spine. The action helped with calming your breathing to a normal range.

The lump in your throat was swallowed with difficulty. You didn’t move. “I miss, I miss home,” you finally uttered barely above a hoarse breath.

World shattering. Vic’tao and Uihoy’s muscles locked tight. For once, they feared what the future held for them. ‘Home?’ You wanted to go home? Was… was this not your home? Were they not your home? But they couldn’t let you leave, even if you wanted to. Their clan’s honor code… they would have to follow it or be deemed a bad blood.

“Little Hunter…” Uihoy trailed off as he tried to find the right words. What was he going to do? What could he do to convince you not to leave? “Do Little Hunter want go home?” His voice was almost too rumbling to understand. Your arms tightened around Uihoy’s neck. Did you?

“I-I don’t know.”

Neither Yautja knew if that calmed them or worried them even more. How could you not know? You had to choose… or else. Vic’tao sighed before standing up and began to pace. An idea came to mind quickly. “What can we do to rectify this? What can we do to make you stay?” The last thing either of them wanted to do would be forced to kill you. The oomans could not know of their existence, including you.

Once more, your muscles tensed, mind racing for something to help with the situation. But fatigue was running it’s course and winning. You continued to keep your face hidden away, not even letting Vic’tao to see you. How could he see you in this pathetic state? You couldn’t let that happen.

Vic’tao mandibles twitched as he paced and thought deeply. He truly didn’t know what to do. A growl vibrated his throat and he stopped in his place. What was he supposed to do? This wasn’t a field he was familiar with. Then, he acted. He knelt next to Uihoy and faced him. His calloused hands slithered between Uihoy and you then cupped your cheeks. With his new hold on you, Vic picked up your head and forced you to look at him. His bright, fierce eyes pierced yours. “What do you need?” his voice firm and stern, the only way he knows.

You swallowed thickly, throat bobbing. Your cheeks were soaked with salty tears. A hiccup interrupted you before you had the chance to speak. “For you to stay,” I sobbed and attempted to pull away. But, Vic softly dug his claws into the back of your jaw.

“Stay? What do mean?” Uihoy questioned, hand still rubbed at your back. “Uihoy and Vic are here for Little Hunter. Always.” The purple Yautja pulled back enough to look you in the eye. With the two of them staring into your teary eyes made you want to further curl up into a ball and hide away from them. Neither of them let that happen. “Can tell anything. Won’t judge.”

You hiccupped once more and used a hand to wipe away at your soaked cheeks. They were starting to dry and make your skin feel horrible. Vic finally pulled away enough to let you clean up. “I-I,” you can do this, “I can’t stand when you guys leave.”

Uihoy tensed underneath you. Their hunts. It hurts you when they go on a hunt, mentally. His brows furrowed in deep thought.

On the other hand, Vic’tao’s head snapped back and he stared at you. He believed this was something that was covered when the duo became a trio. He thought you understood and was fine. Why the change? “Why do you feel this way now? You were fine when we told you.”

His partner whipped his head to glare at him, tresses accidentally slapping you in the face. Ow. Uihoy snapped at him in Yautja, a language you’ve barely begun to even understand simple things. But you knew it was something harsh from how stern his voice was. Vic’tao sighed afterwards and released his hands on you. “Apologizes, ooman.” He stood up to his full height as his mind mulled over solutions.

“How about we teach you to hunt?” A solution. One he may regret knowing that ooman’s aren’t that great about instincts. But if it’s with you, it won’t be so bad.

This caught your attention, head perking up to find his bright eyes on you. Always watching, always vigilant. “You would do that?” you whispered, voice hoarse.

Uihoy grunted. “That’s a good idea. Like it. Would love to see Little Hunter hunt alongside Uihoy and Vic.” His strong arms loosened up to pull you back and sit more in his lap. He could see the way your throat bobbed as you swallowed.

“Is that even a good idea? I’m not… very good at hunting.” I shied away from their eyes and put my head on Uihoy’s thick chest to keep hiding away.

The purple Yautja purred deeply rubbed at your head, messing up your hair. “Uihoy and Vic will be teaching ooman. Safe and sound. Become great hunter at side.” That eased up your worried emotions. You smiled, even though they couldn’t see it, and wiped away the rest of your tears. Your cheeks stained with dry, sticky tears.

“Thanks,” you whispered, voice barely above a hoarse whisper.

From there, Uihoy carried you to the connected bathroom. The bath was swiftly filled. During that time, Uihoy sat on the edge of the in ground bath and held you. That’s all you could ask for. Vic’tao went out and grabbed needed water and a couple snacks for you. Instructions provided by Uihoy on what to do. The poor, younger Yautja was still clueless on human emotions, something Uihoy studied before allowing a relationship to even bloom.

Once the bath was filled, Uihoy slowly shed you of your clothing and helped you into the bath. For however long, the two showered you in the love you deserved. Water was sipped on. Food was consumed. Shampoo was lathered over your body. Everything needed to show you how much they cared for you.

#yautja #predator #yautja x reader #yautja x you #alien vs predator #predator x reader #yautja x human #predator x you #predator x human #x reader

[maislovebot]

Top 10 bsd characters oral scenarios: Ryunosuke Akutagawa

Hello! Here’s the Ryu chapter! I did everything yesterday but I guess I forgot to hit publish or something?? Sorry about that, as an apology I’ll be posting the Chuuya chapter today as well:)

Contains: afab reader, no pronouns, face-sitting, overstim, kinda ooc, nipple play I think, orgasm delay, teasing, kinda angsty but like what do you expect it’s Aku, Rashoumon but like sexually, she’s used as light bondage

Check the original post out on ao3! (same user)

“ Can you come home? I want you. ”

“What?”

You were enjoying your day in some mall, spoiling yourself just a little. Of course, it would’ve been nice to invite your lovely boyfriend, Akutagawa, but he was busy with something involving the Port Mafia, he didn’t go into detail. He probably felt like saving you from the gory details. He was even kind enough to supply you with a fair amount of money, silently sliding it into your hand when you were about to leave. It’s crazy how much money he makes because of his jobs at the Port Mafia, and he’s only a part of the command unit.

Your day at the mall was cut short when you received a call from the one and only Akutagawa, and you assumed it had something to do with the money he gave you until you picked up the phone.

“Huh? I thought you had a job today.”

“I finished it early. I need you right now.”

You stood for a few seconds, confused and now slightly turned on. Understanding all too well what he wanted, you complied with his wishes.

“Alright, I’ll be there in about an hour, I have to check out at the store I’m at, and the drive is 45 minutes.”

Silence stood on the other line, then a short “hurry.” Was said before Akutagawa hung up abruptly.

Now that whatever Akutagawa was planning was on the schedule for tonight, you wanted to get home as soon as you could, bouncing your leg in line, waiting.

‘ Finally, that line was so long. ’

You fiddled with your keys, trying to get inside of your car, the desperate way you searched through your keys and wallet making it harder for you to actually get into the car.

‘ God, finally. ’ Once you made it into your car, you shifted uncomfortably in your seat.

‘ Damn it Ryuu, why’d you have to be so demanding when I’m so far away? ’ you kept thinking about whatever it was he wanted to do, and it made you more and more needy, picturing whatever it was he wanted you to do to you.

With you taking a considerable amount of shortcuts and speeding a bit more than what was ethical, you made it back in record time. Only 45 minutes.

Fiddling with your keys yet again, you were cut off by Akutagawa opening the door for you and pulling you inside hastily.

“Took you long enough.” Akutagawa commented, noticing how you were lightly rubbing your thighs together. You wanted to give some snarky response, but you were cut off by Akutagawa grabbing your hair and leaning into you, kissing you rather roughly.

You were embarrassed because you hadn’t even gotten a chance to shut the door yet, and you pushed it shut with your foot.

You pulled back, already desperate for air from how vigorous Akutagawa was with his kissing. You pulling away didn’t deter Akutagawa for even a second, and he instead brought his lips down to your neck and began kissing and licking at it intently.

“Aa—Ryuu—what’s gotten into y—ah!” You were cut off by him licking at your sensitive spot, and him lightly groping you. Noticing your reaction, he paused and asked if you were alright.

“Is this not okay?”

“No—it’s fine, it’s just.. this is different. You never act like this.”

“I finished work early so I wanted to spend some time with you.”

You have a puzzled look, then a small moan from Akutagawa reuniting his lips with your neck, slowly trailing down to the tops of your breasts, while bringing his right hand down to grasp your bottoms and underwear at the same time, pulling them down just enough for you to be on full display, this made the blood rush to your cheeks while you questioned him.

“And you being done with work early caused this? I mean, I’m not complaining but it’s different.”

He gave a sigh “can we talk about this later? I just want you right now. We can talk about work after.”

You looked at him and nodded. “Alright, but let’s at least get up the stairs before we go any farther.”

Akutagawa nodded, and pulled you up the stairs by your wrist and then walked to the closest room with a soft surface that he could lay on, which happened to be your front room.

He laid down on your couch, luckily it was fairly large, it could fit the both of you.

“Could you sit on my face?”

Your eyes widened, and Akutagawa rephrased his question.

“Would you be fine with sitting on my face?”

You laughed a little, and Akutagawa looked at you rather blankly.

“Well that was blunt.”

“I’m blunt.”

You nodded, “that you are.”

Akutagawa looked at you expectantly, awaiting your answer. “Well?”

You said nothing, and instead pulled your bottoms down, completely stepping out of them. You smiled then straddled his hips and leaned down, quickly giving a small and quick kiss to his neck, not wanting to make him wait much longer, he was clearly a little desperate after all.

“Of course I will.” You spoke into his collar bones. You moved yourself upwards until you hovered just too high for his mouth to reach. Akutagawa didn’t sit and wait, and instead pulled your hips down till your heat was touching the outside of his lips.

Akutagawa opened his mouth and darted his tongue out straight to your clit, licking a circle on it.

You gave a barely audible groan, and immediately ground your hips down onto his tongue, increasing the amount of friction on your clit, causing you to repeat the process over and over again. Akutagawa gave a cute small moan under you due to the slightly suffocating feeling that arose from you grinding yourself onto him. How was he already driving you crazy from just one small lick? I guess you had been waiting for this for almost an hour, and he went straight to your clit with no precautions. Akutagawa kept licking at your clit before eventually beginning to suck on it. As of right now, Akutagawa was gripping the couch harshly, although it was fruitless due to the fact there weren’t really any blankets to grip onto.

You being so desperate for release in the car made your orgasm arrive pretty quick, and you wanted to try and warn Akutagawa.

“I’m clo—se..!” With this warning, Akutagawa paused the movement of his tongue, and sat there silently.

“What? Why’d you stop??” You whined, trying to grind down on Akutagawa, but he grabbed your hips and pulled you down onto his upper chest.

“Beg for it.” He said, staring straight into your eyes. You sat there silently, not really wanting to get rid of your dignity so easily.

“Come on. I know you can do it.” Akutagawa repeated his command yet again with a straight face, although it was a little difficult to take him seriously with the bottom half of his face being covered in your precum. Akutagawa noticed this, and wiped it off, closing his eyes and covering his face in the process, clearly a little embarrassed. While his mouth was covered, he coughed once or twice before asking again, now having a dry face.

“Just ask me and I promise I’ll keep going.”

Feeling your orgasm just sitting there in your stomach, not going anywhere, you grew desperate and whined quietly before giving into his requests.

“Please, let me cum. Please.” Your begging almost came out as a whisper, and Akutagawa was clearly not satisfied.

“You can do better than that.”

You looked away from him, considering just doing what he wanted. You were still stuck in place, considering how Akutagawa’s patience was running rather thin, he moved his hands up to grip on your thighs tightly, his nails digging into your skin just a little.

What finally got you to give in was when he quickly moved you back up to the top of his face and kissed your clit, your sensitivity running wild, even the slightest bit of stimulation made you jerk your hips down into him, and beg like he wanted without even realizing it.

“Please! I-I wanna cum so bad, I wanna cum all over your face! Please, please..” you begged, feeling yourself beginning to tear up from the overwhelming need to cum, barely even acknowledging how lewd your statement was.

Akutagawa noticed this, and took your begging into account, deciding that he was now satisfied. Without another word, he moved his tongue between your folds, and sucked at your clit, still holding your thighs tightly.

“God, I’m—” you couldn’t even finish your sentence before you came, expecting to be able to calm down, you were shocked when he kept going, continuing to suck on your clit with absolutely zero shame.

“Ahnn.. why’re you still g-going?” You pleaded, and Akutagawa gave a muffled moan yet again, not responding to your question. The overstimulation was pleasurable right now, but at the rate Akutagawa was going, you were sure it would start to hurt at least a little bit very soon. What changed however, was Akutagawa’s grip on your left thigh was completely removed when he brought his index and middle finger to your hole and spread your precum quickly and slid inside of you. He rested his fingers inside allowing you to get used to the feeling, contrary to his lips that kept working on your clit. Already knowing what he was waiting for, you nodded your head letting him know he was fine to move if he so pleased. When he thrusted his fingers slowly, he sped up his work with his mouth, the contrasting feeling driving you to your next orgasm.

It was far too much, and you tried to pull yourself off of Akutagawa, but he quickly grabbed your thighs, removing his left hand from your hole in the process. Muffled under you, you heard him ask, “just a little more? Can’t you last a little longer?”

“Yes, I’ll try.” You said, grinding down onto his face slightly.

“Perfect. Just tell me to stop if it gets too much.”

Without another word, Akutagawa brought his tongue up to your hole, and grabbed the innermost part of your thigh to pull you down as far as he could, and slowly thrusted his tongue inside of you. Your eyes shot open much wider than before and you grabbed the top of the couch tightly, trying to ground yourself. Encouraged by this response, Akutagawa sped up the movements of his tongue. The feeling of your walls surrounding the small amount of his tongue he could bring inside of you made him buck into the air just a little, and he brought his left hand down to his hard on, gently palming himself. He felt a little ashamed of what he was doing, but he was desperate at this point. In order to make up for his dominant hand no longer holding you down, he lifted his head up so he could thrust his tongue impossibly deeper into your hole. You simultaneously ground your hips down onto his mouth, only increasing the intensity of his actions.

You could feel the familiar feeling of release yet again, and you warned Akutagawa.

“Please.. I’m close. Make me cum, please! Don’t—don’t stop!” Akutagawa nodded as much as he could under you, and you sighed with relief. What caught you off guard, however, was Akutagawa urgently pulling you off of him and resting you on his chest. You wanted to whine because he pulled you off after he promised , but you were met with a fit of coughs from Akutagawa, and you frowned slightly.

“Ugh—I apologize. I know you were close.”

“It’s fine. You’re clearly worn out, let’s just lay down for now.”

Akutagawa shook his head, and pulled himself up so he could lean against the back of the couch, and beckoned you to sit on top of him. Hesitantly, you complied, not wanting to take too much out of him.

“I’m gonna make you cum. I won’t let you stop until you come one more time.”

“Ryuu.. you really don’t have to.”

“I will.”

You sighed, knowing this was a battle you couldn’t win. You sat atop his lap, straddling him, making sure to not put too much weight onto him. Akutagawa grabbed at the hem of your shirt, and gave you a is this okay? look. You nodded, and to emphasize it, you pulled the shirt off yourself, leaving you in your bra.

Akutagawa reached his left hand to your back and unhooked the back of your bra with his hand, and watched it fall down your shoulders. You lifted your arms, and you were now completely naked, opposite to Akutagawa, with the only thing he wasn’t wearing being shoes. But he’s still wearing socks, of course.

At least he understood this, and decided that the jacket shouldn’t just be for show. He mumbled Rashoumon , and suddenly your hands were being held up, only not getting tired because they were being held up by his jacket. You jumped, and looked at him playfully.

“You could’ve warned me first! My heart nearly jumped out of my chest.”

“I assumed you’d be used to it by now.”

You shook your head, looking into his eyes and smirking just a little.

“Well, come on, if I can’t use my hands you better put that mouth of yours to good use. Again .”

Akutagawa decided to ignore your teasing and complied, reaching his mouth towards your chest, and taking one of your nipples into his mouth, licking around the tip of it. He slowly moved his right hand to your other nipple, pulling on it gently. After a few seconds, he brought his left hand down to your crotch, and entered you yet again. This time however, he went much faster, thrusting into you quickly.

You let out a loud moan and all the stimulation and brought your head down to the side of his head, closing your eyes tightly.

“G-god, Ryuu, you feel s-so good..” in response he hummed, and the vibrations against your burning skin made you jerk your hips forward. This made Akutagawa’s fingers pull out of you to just the tip, so he quickly thrusted them back in before moving his thumb to your clit. You tried to pull your hands forward to grip onto Akutagawa, but you were unable to pull your hands out of Rashoumon’s grasp.

“P-please, Ryuu, lemme hold you!” You cried out before Akutagawa looked away from you for a split second, and released Rashoumon from you, and you instantly grabbed Akutagawa’s shoulders so tightly he was sure you would leave some bruises behind, not that he cared.

You pulled your head back, and looked at Akutagawa, only to be met by his eyes staring right into yours. It looked so intense, so intimate, that it drove you over the edge, making you cum one last time.

You shook a little as you came, and Akutagawa pulled away from your nipples and kept fingering you slowly, helping you ride out your high. Once you were calmed down, he pulled out of you, and you whimpered quietly from the friction.

You breathed heavily for roughly thirty seconds, with your eyes shut tightly. Once you had caught your breath, you opened your eyes and looked at Akutagawa and smiled.

“That was nice. You did so well.”

Akutagawa looked away, embarrassed, before coughing a few times into his sleeve.

“Glad you liked it,” you stared at him. “Just one problem though.”

Akutagawa raised an eyebrow, and questioned you.

“And what might that be?”

You leaned down, and kissed Akutagawa intensely, grabbing the back of his head gently. After a few moments, Akutagawa reached back and grabbed your hand, trying to pull it away. You moved your hand and pulled away.

“I didn’t get to help you at all.”

Akutagawa instantly understood what you meant, and looked at you blankly.

“You don’t have to help me. Seeing you like this is enough to keep me content.”

You sighed playfully, and slid down onto the ground, reaching your hand under his jacket, you gently caressed his knee over his pants. Akutagawa’s eyes widened just a little, and he shifted from the uncomfortable tightness in his slacks.

“I want to help you out. Please?” You asked while slowly trailing your hand up until it met his belt. You teasingly grabbed the buckle, beginning to undo it.

“We can take as many breaks as you need. I just want to please you.” You looked into his eyes, and Akutagawa loosely grabbed your hair and moved his hand down himself to get the belt undone faster.

“ Do as you wish . ”

Poor guy doesn’t have the stamina to go for longD: I think his foreplay makes up for it though

Wc - 2.7k

Chuuya chapter will be released today!

#bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd x reader #bsd smut #ryunosuke akutagawa #akutagawa ryunosuke x reader #bsd ryunosuke

[secretswiftymarvelfan]

Burnin' On - Firefighter!Chris x Reader (2 am)

A/N: Okay it was no secret that I absolutely love these two and I couldn't stop writing them! So here's the extensions series! There's no real over-arching plot, just interconnected one-shots as and when I think of them! This will contain spoilers to the original series so go check that out of you haven't already

Summary: After a very long day you return home surprised to find Chris had waited for you

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Fluff!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics​​

Meet the Characters!

Burnin' Up Masterlist / Series Masterlist / Masterlist

2 am

Your eyelids felt heavy as you finally pulled up outside the house. You let out a long sigh as you dragged your hands down your face before glancing at the time. 

It was well past 2 am.

Glancing back up at the house you could see no lights were on. You had texted Chris the code to tell him it was going to be a late one so he no doubt had gone to bed hours ago. There was nothing you wanted more than to climb into bed and snuggle up next to him, if Dodger had left you any space that is. 

Even though you were exhausted you remained sat in your car for another couple of minutes just gathering the energy to move. It had been an exhausting day, not just physically but emotionally too.

Eventually, you did manage to bring yourself to climb out of the car and head inside. You made sure you were as quiet as possible as you closed the door, took off your shoes and jacket. You didn’t want to accidentally wake Chris. 

Even though you didn’t have much of an appetite you knew you needed to have something to eat. The last proper meal you had was lunch and that was over twelve hours ago. You also knew you’d just wake up hungry again in a couple hours if you didn’t and you really wanted to sleep for hours after today.

Walking into the living room you flicked on the light only to be startled by Chris startling awake from his spot on the couch. You clutched your chest as you tried to get your breathing back under control.

“Chris what the hell? You scared the shit out of me!” You complained as your heart rate finally returned to normal.

“Sorry,” he said rubbing the sleep from his eyes “I didn’t mean to scare you, or fall asleep, I was trying to stay awake until you got home” he explained.

“Why? I texted to say I’d be home late so you didn’t need to stay up” you told him, pulling out your phone to double-check you’d actually sent the code.

“I know” Chris said pushing himself up from the couch and walking over to you “I also knew tonight was gonna be a hard night and I didn’t like the idea of you getting home and being alone” he explained placing his hands on your arms.

You instantly softened hearing his reason, stepping into his embrace, burying your head in his chest as you let out a shaky breath. Chris instantly wrapped his arm around you pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asked softly, rubbing your soothingly.

“Not yet, I think I’m still processing it all, I just wanna sleep but I should eat first” you sighed pulling away enough to look up at him.

“Okay, I saved you a plate so I’ll go warm it up, make yourself comfortable” Chris smiled softly, nodding to the couch. 

“Not too comfortable otherwise I’ll be asleep before you even get into the kitchen” you pointed out. 

Chris lets out a small snort of laughter “Okay make yourself uncomfortable” he chuckled.

You give him a tired smile as you sit down on the couch, sitting on the edge as you knew that if you sat too far back sleep would be too inviting. Thankfully it wasn’t long until Chris returned with a plateful of food for you, and a smaller plate for himself. 

The two of you sat in comfortable silence as you ate. Once you were finished you set your plate down on the coffee table and let out a long sigh.

“We found the body,” you told Chris.

You heard him let out a long sigh as he put his hand on the small of your back. He didn’t say anything though, he knew to just give you time to talk it all through.

“We still have to confirm it's her because there was a lot of decay but she was in the exact spot he said she was” You continued rubbing your hand over your forehead “I just… I feel so sorry for the families…. Both of them… one lost their daughter and the other has just found out their son isn’t who they thought he was” 

Chris let out another sigh as he shifted closer to you, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you closer into his side. He knew exactly where your mind was going, it hadn’t been that long since you found out your own father wasn’t who you thought he was.

You let out a shuddering sigh as you wiped away the stray tears that fell “Sorry” you muttered.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Chris said shaking his head “You have nothing to apologise for”

“I shouldn’t be thinking of him though” you pointed out looking up at him.

“It's okay, it’s natural and you always will it’ll just be easier to move on” Chris reassured you “And I know it sucks and it hurts but it means you understand what they’re going through and feeling and you’ll be able to provide them the correct support”

You sighed nodding your head “Yeah you’re right, thank you” you say looking up at him.

Chris gave you a soft smile “It’s nothing, now let's get you up to bed, you deserve it” he said as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I don’t think I have the energy to stand” you admitted making Chris chuckle.

“Don’t you worry about that” he said with a lopsided smile before he stood up, hooked his arms around you and lifted you into his arms.

You let out a squeak of surprise before quickly snuggling into his arms. You smiled up at him forever grateful that you had him in your life to look after you after tough shifts, providing you a safe space that you never had before. He hadn’t even made it all the way upstairs before you fell asleep in his arms.

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