#wily x reader

[mmkin]

Forever Clockwork

I know there's been a lot of Arlong simping on my Tumblr lately (and that is continuing!) but in the meantime I interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to bring you some Dr. Wily simping. Arlong x Reader was the first reader fic I wrote, and now I wanna write about another villain getting some love. Link to AO3 as well as the story itself available under the cut. Please enjoy this beautiful Wily picture from @jennoirwolf and some beautiful Gigamix Wily. And yes, the second image is the same picture as referenced in the first chapter of the story.

Forever Clockwork

Dr. Wily x Reader

I used multiple sources of canon for this – the games, comics, anime, TV series, and manga, so you can imagine whatever version you like, though my favorite visual of Wily is from the Mega/Gigamix manga (now that’s a silver fox!)

This story is set after the Stardroids arc (after Megaman 7 video game-wise)

Megaman does not belong to me and is the property of Capcom, Archie Comics, Hitoshi Ariga, other license holders/copyright holders, etc. Feedback is much welcome and appreciated.

I

o0o0o0o

You were one of Wily's students when you were at university. You considered yourself blessed that your last few years of pursuing your degree placed you under the tutelage of the illustrious Drs. Light and Wily. You were a great admirer of their work and ever since you were a kid, you'd always liked tinkering around with various machines, from helping your grandfather with his car to writing code for various projects.

You'd made your way through high school, winning several respectable scholarships that got you into the prestigious university that, at that time, had both of these famous doctors on their faculty, since the doctors had their lab not far from the school.

Dr. Wily was known to be the tougher of the two, but you still considered yourself lucky to be his student, and you’d learned so much from him. Already, even before the first line of Robot Masters was finished, Wily was known as a bit of a troublemaker, but you liked that.

However, you didn't think he would go so far as to steal a whole line of Robot Masters and let them go on a rampage. And then create his own lines of Robot Masters, and then steal them from others like Cossack. It seemed like Wily had a one-track mind as you watched him from afar while advancing through your career. Sometimes though, you wish he hadn't disappeared like he did. He'd gone rogue not long before you graduated with your master's degree.

You'd tried a few different fields before settling in your current one, but you were feeling increasingly dissatisfied with your work for a company that specialized in private, personalized robots. And as you'd come to see, a big part of that was essentially companion bots. Specs would be customized depending on the type of companionship the client was seeking. Sometimes you rolled your eyes when you went over an order, but a job was a job. As much of what you did involved putting together hardware, you could spend long days – or nights – at the company lab. Then you'd drag yourself home. You've tried having a social life, but you have a pretty low social battery.

You plopped down on your armchair after a particularly stressful week. Perhaps it was time to consider a job change. You already had a solid resume, so you were confident you could find a job elsewhere Stretching out your arms, you see a shadow move, and give out a yelp, thinking you’ve surprised a burglar.

It reveals itself to be a robot – no, a Robot Master. Given that you study the Robot Masters others make, you quickly recognize a Wily number – DWN-024. Shadow Man. You stare at him as he inclines his head in a bow, the shuriken on his forehead flashing for a brief moment as it reflected your lamp.

“Doctor Y/n Lastname?" he asks. You're certain he knows perfectly well who you are, but this is a gesture of politeness. Already you find this robot charming. You nod in affirmation, your interest piqued. "I have been sent by Dr. Wily to offer you a job."

Holy fuck. You’d been seriously considering a job change, and one just fell in your lap! And from Dr. Albert Wily, of all people! You didn’t admit it to others, but you continued to follow his career even after he went rogue. And you most certainly didn’t admit that you had a crush on him back then, and still did. He had that silver fox appeal, after all. You stare blankly for a few seconds.

“Are you all right?” you hear the robot ask, and you turn your focus back to him.

“Yeah, yeah. It's just… I mean, I didn't expect to come home to this, you know? I'm not trying to be rude, you just caught me off-guard…!" You let out a nervous laugh. You take a deep breath, collecting yourself. So Dr. Wily wants you to come to work for him. It wouldn't be the first time he's worked with other people, although that didn't always work out for the best. So there's a lot to think about. You haven't built your own Robot Masters like Dr. Cossack or others did, so you have no robots to steal.

You look at the robot. He is a sophisticated piece of work, and your experience tells you that if you were to open him up, you’d likely find a design more sophisticated than whatever your current employer could offer.

“Do you need more information?" Shadow Man asked. You shrugged and nodded, and he rattled off a few things such as labs and equipment, amenities, and such. It actually sounded pretty nice, and certainly didn't sound like an offer that would be made to someone Wily intended to kidnap. You stroke your chin… are you seriously fucking contemplating joining forces with a mad scientist who keeps trying to take over the world?

“How is he?” you ask the robot. It dawned upon you that Dr. Wily must be listening to this conversation. The robot is silent for a moment, almost as if he’s listening for something.

Aha. Wily old bastard.

“You may see for yourself in person. If you accept, of course.”

You're tempted to call out your old mentor. But you smile and shrug. "Well, I would like to see how my old teacher is doing," you say, offering no commitment to the mil ob proposal. You offer Shadow Man a smile, fairly certain that he's video-recording you too. The smile isn't fake, though. You're secretly thrilled at the idea of seeing him again.

The robot offers his hand, and you take it, wondering how much of a gamble you’ve just endeavored on. Fortune favors the bold… at least, you hope.

You blink as you enter a well-appointed lab, and for a moment panic as you wonder if you should have put on some fresh clothes, the robot did sort of ambush you when you'd just gotten home from work… Just as you think to run your finger through your hair to try to look a bit nicer, your heart skips a beat as you see your old mentor.

He looked a few years older, but he was still as much of a silver fox as ever, a handsome sight in his dark clothing that was contrasted by his white lab coat and skeleton-themed tie. He approaches you, arms spread out in a gesture of welcome, like a host receiving a guest. It almost looks like he’s offering a hug. You wish…

“Welcome to my humble abode, Y/n,” he says. “Or would you prefer Dr. Lastname now?” he adds with a small smirk before he offers his hand for you to shake. You take it quickly, feeling the wiry strength in his grip.

“I’m fine with Y/n, though considering this is a job offer perhaps I should go by my professional name…” you shrug. “I can't believe I'm here. After you disappeared…" You shake your head. "I didn't think I would see you again. And believe it or not, I was a little disappointed at that thought."

You try to not blush, hoping he doesn’t read too much in your slip.

“You missed me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Oh, crap. He read you like an open book. Play it cool, play it cool. You shrug and offer a small smile. “What can I say, you were my favorite teacher.”

He grins at that, and you feel your heart fluttering as if you were a silly little schoolgirl. Why the hell does this man have that effect on you? And despite the questionable morality of many of his actions, you do admire his moxie. He’s a stubborn old bastard, and you have to admit his plans for world domination suit him better than the standard mid-life crisis.

None of this means you’re not nervous around him. If you’d not wanted to come here, would he have kidnapped you?

That wouldn't be so bad if he treated you like a princess or something, right? Hah. Damn, you still do have that crush, huh?

“I know a lot of the students thought I was a bastard, so that’s refreshing to hear.”

“I don't know, many of the times you tore into someone, they deserved it, and it was entertaining to watch." Schadenfreude and all that. He laughs at that, and leads you down the building, passing a few robots at work and the like. The space has a lot of the things you'd imagine Wily to have, and you're not disappointed in the setup. It could be a lot of fun to work here… if you're willing to put yourself on the Most Wanted list.

Wily’s POV

It was nice seeing Y/n again. Y/n had been his favorite student and he had considered recruiting Y/n when he’d gone rogue back then. But she was so young and full of potential. He knew he was going on a risky path, and hadn’t wanted to drag her down with him. Oh, it was bloody tempting, though!

But now, she was old and experienced enough, and it seemed that one of his predictions about her had proven correct. She was bright and might not be satisfied in the usual industries that called for expertise in robotics, regardless of how well the job paid. If he was wrong and she eventually found something that made her happy, then good for her. But over the last decade, she'd bounced through several high-paying jobs. And well, he would be lying if he said he didn't find her attractive. She'd been pretty cute, in a nerdy chick way back then, and she still rocked the vibe pretty well. She trailed behind him, glancing over his projects and experiments with a knowing scientist's eye and curiosity.

“Oh hey, that’s neat that you have that picture,” she said as she gestured to a picture on the wall. Granted, it was a copy, but it was one of his favorite pictures, and added a nice touch to his workspace. She gave his tools a respectful berth as she approached the desk, looking at it. A young Dr. Light and Dr. Wily were standing with their first AI project, their arms crossed and up in the air in a symbol of triumph.

“It’s a pretty great picture, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Hell yeah.”

He laughed at that and continued along. He was not stupid enough to think there wasn't a possibility of her coming here just so she could try to steal something. She kept switching jobs, didn't she? Though he had to admit, if she turned out to be a thief, he'd be disappointed. No one was perfect, but surely she respected him too much to do that to him, right?

It was nice listening to her as she asked a question about this or that, and the way she asked seemed genuine, instead of someone digging around for information.

o0o0o0o

The picture you just commented on is a pretty famous one. It’s iconic in the robotics community given the work that Drs. Light and Wily did for science. Both of them were quite good-looking, but you think Albert has aged better than his old friend. And well, maybe that picture is what you use as the screen on your smartphone?

Are you going to change that before Wily notices? You're about to ask a question before Shadow Man approaches the two of you with tea. It honestly smelled pretty great, and you took the cup that was offered to you. The green tea is slightly bitter but has an edge of sweetness that balances it out nicely, making for a harmonious flavor.

“Oh, this is good,” you murmur as you finish it off. “Best cup I’ve had in a while, I think. You made this?” you ask the robot. He bows his head, and you smile. “My compliments to the chef.”

It seems like he’s genuinely happy at your compliment. He is an elegant robot, and maybe it’s because you’ve been more sympathetic to Wily than most – well, actually, pretty much anyone else – but you wonder about what he said in the past about robots having souls.

“So, how about it?" he asks as Shadow Man pours you another cup. You look down at the clear green liquid in your cup. You are well aware of his track record. He's more than just a man who marches to the beat of his drum. There's a chance this might not end well. But at the same time, he reached out to you. He has a bit more esteem for you than you had originally thought. You look up at him, taking in his lanky form.

Damn, but he really is a silver fox, isn’t he? Legal repercussions be damned – you tried to play it straight and narrow since you got your degree and look where that got you.

“What the hell. I’m in.”

His delighted laugh rings in your ears. And he does sound pleased as punch about it, as if you just made his day.

#writing #strawberrycatbeans #mega man #dr. wily #wily #x reader #dr. wily x reader #wily x reader #megaman #villain gets the girl #fanfiction #rockman

[mylostloversbookmarks]

thank you!! My request is: Joel x female reader. Age gap. They met after Joel and Ellie arrived in Jackson, they started to know each other, at first they kept it a bit like a secret but then, when things started to get more serious, they didn’t hide anymore. Things got so serious that after a while (not immediately, like a year or two) Joel asked reader to move in with him and Ellie.

Ellie loves reader and she’s more than happy that Joel found his special someone. Could you add a scene where reader is with Ellie one afternoon and they see Joel with a woman, acting really intimate, which connects to reader’s thoughts about Joel being a bit weird the previous days. She thinks he’s cheating on her, also because the woman is really close and intimate to Joel in that situation.

She wants to leave before he sees her but Joel notices her presence, tries to talk to her but doesn’t deny the accusations at first, (so a lot of angst!!!) which makes reader think she lost the love of her life.

They don’t talk for a few days and try to ignore each other when possible, despite living together. Ellie is sad and suffers from this situation. Joel loves reader too much to ruin things so he puts his pride aside and tries talking to her. They eventually talk it through, he was not cheating (choose whatever the alternative to that is!!) maybe a little fluff at the end or also something else? You choose!

also, if you have any rules or have triggers about something that I requested please let me know and change the story how you need to.

And I’m extremely sorry if this request is too long and detailed.

thank you!!!

Guiding Lights - a Joel Miller one shot.

Characters - Joel Miller x Reader

Word Count - 8.7K

Warnings/Tags - 18+ only Minors dni. Typical canon language, Swearing, Angst, Fluff, Alcohol consumption, , Sus!Joel, Soft!Joel, insecurities, suspected cheating, no actual cheating, I think thats all?

A/N - @addictedtotlou This is my first ever fic request and I cannot thank you enough for sending it through, and also for dropping into my inbox to let me know it was you that requested it! I'm sorry it took so long but I hope you enjoy <3

Feedback, Reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

You often find yourself reminiscing on the day you met Joel and Ellie, it feels like forever ago now, though it has only really been a few years.

The winters in Wyoming were never kind, but that year, Mother Nature had been particularly cruel. Strong winds and vicious snow blizzards reduced visibility to almost nothing. You had heard those posted to the lookout stations talking over lunches and complaining about how bad the conditions were getting.

So in a bid to keep the good folks of Jackson safe, Tommy and Maria decided to double the number of patrols around the commune in an attempt to keep an eye on the horizon for any potential threats who could be hiding just beyond their sights.

Needless to say, it had been a rather slow work day in the Tipsy Bison, with the usual counting and re-counting of stock, checking on the latest brew of beers and whisky, ensuring everything was going as planned, and cleaning of the already immaculate bar, all finished in record time.

Expecting the usual after-work rush that never came, you sent the other two bar staff over to the mess hall to see if the kitchen needed any help with preparations for tomorrow's meals.

As the two said their goodbyes over their shoulders, you heard one of them mumble a shocked "What the hell?"

With your interest piqued, you stepped out from behind the old wooden bar and crossed the floor to the large square windows at the front of the building. Your eyes followed their gaze and watched as the afternoon patrol crew filed through the large wooden and steel-clad gates of the commune.

You waved as a few of your regulars passed you, a few tipping the brims of their ten-gallon hats. You quickly realised what had drawn your colleagues' attention when your eyes landed on two new faces in the middle of the crew.

The first newcomer was a man; he wore a thick brown winter coat and jeans that looked like they could stand up on their own, and you could see the toe of his work boot was mended with what looked to be duck tape. His eyes were sharp and focused, darting around him as if in search of someone or something.

Instantly, he gave you the impression of someone who had been on the road for quite some time. Having been there yourself, you felt a surge of sympathy for him, but you were still wary of him, not knowing why he had been brought inside the walls.

The second was a girl, whom you assumed to be the man's daughter; she was small and looked to be in her early teens. Strands of her tawny brown hair peek out from under her winter hat. big, bright eyes, taking in her surroundings in wonder, while the man stared straight ahead. The girl seemed to be unaware that all eyes were on her, from those who stood on the street to others standing in shop windows, just as you were.

You followed the other barstaff out to the porch and offered the girl a small smile as your eyes met, she quickly looked away without returning it. It wasn't often that Jackson took in new people, opting to keep off the radar to try and protect what you had here. Maria was on this afternoon's patrol and had no doubt made the call to bring the two into the commune.

As the crew passed, heading further into the small town, you saw the man's head snap to the left, and he opened his mouth.

"Tommy!" he shouted, his deep, booming voice ringing in the silence. In an instant, he was off his horse and running in the direction of the scaffolding that had been put up to repair some of the damage to a neighbouring building.

You watched on in stunned silence as the two men ran towards each other, unsure of what the newcomers intentions were, but before you had made it down the two steps of the porch, the man wrapped his arms around Tommy and began laughing, disbelief colouring the sound.

The two men stood embracing each other, both breathless from laughter, and you knew immediately who the newcomer was. This was Joel, Tommy's brother.

Tommy had spoken of him before; usually after one too many whiskies at the bar, he would open up to you about how guilty he felt about staying off the radio. He would say things like, "It's only a matter of time before he comes looking for me, Y/N; what am I supposed to do? Turn him away?" and "One thing about my big bother is that he's persistent."

You had always offered words of understanding and comfort and almost always cut him off and sent him home after those conversations, knowing that no good could come from him drinking any more alcohol.

Part of being the town's main bar tender was also being a listening ear whenever someone needed it, but with Tommy, it was different. He and Maria had become your closest friends, and you would always be there when either of them needed you, working or not.

You always got the sense that something had happened between the two men that couldn't be fixed. As you watched the brothers reunite, you realised that the thought couldn't be further from the truth.

Maria caught your eye as she dismounted from her horse and jerked her head to the side, beseeching you to join her. You nodded at her and crossed the road to where she was standing, hitching her horse to one of the many posts dotted around town.

"Maria, is that who I think it is?" You asked her quietly, not wanting to draw attention to the conversation.

"Yeah, it is," she spat. "I don't know how the hell he found us out here." She continued, venom dripping from each word.

You knew that Maria had never actually met Joel, but from the stories Tommy had told you both in the early years, she knew what he was capable of and decided then and there that she did not like him. You, on the other hand, had a more objective outlook on things.

You were not involved in the same way Maria was, of course; she and Tommy were married after all, so you could understand her reservations when he opened up about his past with his brother and the things they had done and what they thought they needed to do to survive.

The problem was, Maria had been in Jackson longer than you and Tommy and therefore had less of an idea what a brutal hellscape it was outside the walls. Maria wasn't stupid; she knew that it was dangerous, but it had been so long since she had to live like that, to really be surviving, not trusting anyone you met along the way, not knowing where your next meal was coming from, or if you were going to make it to worry about the next meal.

You, on the other hand, had lived that life for longer than you would like to remember, and though you didn't have innocent blood on your hands, they were far from clean. So you could sympathise with Tommy and the demons that clearly kept him up at night. So you felt the hatred that Maria has for Joel was a little unfounded.

"I'm happy he found him again," you admitted, unable to help the undercurrent meant by your works. What you really wanted to say was "This should have happened a long time ago if you had let him respond to Joel's calls on the radio" Meeting her narrowed eyes, you saw a flash of anger in them. No doubt you will get an earful for that comment later.

You knew what she was going to say: that Joel wasn't going to fit in here in Jackson, that Tommy was better off without him, and that you should keep a safe distance from him. But she didn't have the opportunity, as Tommy was already walking towards the two of you.

Joel had walked back to where the girl waited on her horse; a worried, almost disappointed expression crossed her face as he gestured towards Tommy. You watched as he gently helped her down from the animal, making sure she was steady on her feet before the pair followed behind Tommy.

"Y/N, Maria, ah… this is my big brother, Joel," Tommy announced, his tone a mixture of pride and nervousness.

"Hey, it's good to finally meet you; I've heard a lot about you." You smiled kindly at him; he nodded once in response, his expression guarded.

"I'm Ellie! It's nice to meet you," the girl chirps cheerily before shoving her elbow into Joel's ribs. "Joel, say hello," she all but hissed at him, which makes you chuckle.

"It's lovely to meet you, Ellie." You beam.

"It's, uh, good to meet you," he managed quietly.

Two years later...

A loud knock at your front door startles you. Your hand flies to your heart as you curse under your breath. Who the hell would be calling on you at this hour of the morning?

You pad down the hallway and open the door to find Joel standing there, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. He seemed keyed up, and your heart drops to your stomach; something must have happened.

"Hey, is everything okay? Did something happen? Is Ellie alright?" You squeaked at him, the panic rising in your chest causing your voice to go up an octave.

"Yes, darlin, everything's fine, Ellie's good; don't worry; I just need to talk to you about something, that's all," he assured you in his thick Texas drawl.

"Everything's good… but you need to talk to me about something at 6 a.m." You questioned him dubiously, arching an eyebrow at him.

"I promise everything is fine; I have morning patrol and was hoping I could catch you before I head out," Joel explains, the ghost of a smile playing on his plump lips.

"Ah, okay, that makes sense, sorry; c'mon, handsome." You laugh as you open the door for him to enter and close it after him.

He follows you down the hall into the small kitchen, lingering in the doorway and studying you. You can feel his eyes roaming your figure as you pour him a cup of coffee. Strong, black, no sugar—just the way he likes it.

Turning with the mug in your hand, you let out a breathy laugh at the sight of him. He looked wired, far too awake for this hour of the morning. Was he sweating?

"Joel, baby, are you alright?" You ask curiously as you hand him his coffee and take your usual seat at the end of the dining table.

"Yeah, I just…I wanna ask you something but I don't know how" he confessed sheepishly, his large hand coming to scratch nervously at the back of his neck.

"I'd like to think you know me well enough by now to know you can ask me anything." You said it with a smile, hoping to calm whatever was causing his nerves.

"Yeah, no, I know, I just don't want to freak you out; there's no pressure, and I understa-"

"Just spit it out, Joel." You interrupt him. In the two years you had been with Joel, you had never seen him struggle for words with you, and it was making you anxious.

"Okay," he huffs out, pulling the dining room chair out so he could sit facing you. He takes a long drink of coffee before continuing, and the suspense is killing you.

"So I was speaking to Ellie, and you know we both love you; hell, sometimes I think she likes you more than she likes me!" He chuckles fondly: "Look, we've been seeing each other for a while, and now that everyone knows, I think it would be good, you know, f-for Ellie if she had a…I dunno, like a mother figure on a more permanent basis." The words were falling out of his mouth like an avalanche. He desperately hoped he was making sense, but you still weren't understanding.

"Permenant basis? What do you mean?" You ask, confusion clear on your face, making him laugh again.

"Yeah, like on an everyday basis," he enphasises. Urging you to grasp the meaning of his words.

"Okay, um, I mean, yeah, I think that's a great idea. I love that kid. I will tell her about making an effort to hang out every day." You promise him sincerely and are touched that he thinks of you as a mother figure to his daughter.

"That's not really what I was thinking, baby; I mean, on a permanent basis, like you would live in the same house." He husks softly, his eyes searching your face for your reaction, and his heart sinks to his boots as he watches your brows knit together.

"Did you have another fight?" You ask him, reaching your hand up to stroke the side of his face, your thumb lingering on the heart-shaped patch of his beard where the hair refused to grow. "Ellie's always more than welcome to stay here when she likes, but Joel, I don't think her moving in here is the answer."

He takes your hand from his face and holds it between both of his; he huffs all the air from his lungs and slowly takes another deep breath. Straightening in his chair, he locks eyes with you.

"I knew this would be an easy ask, but I didn't imagine you making it this hard on me," he says exasperatedly, huffing out another loud laugh.

"I don't understand." Confusion layers your tone, and you are sure your face is doing the same.

"I'm not asking if Ellie can move in with you; I'm asking if… if you would like to move in with us Y/N" He admits. His brown eyes are soft and lingering on your face, and his thumb is tracing small circles on your wrist.

This was not the conversation you were expecting to have over your morning coffee; your brain was barely functioning, and your mind started to race. The last two years of your life, with Joel and Ellie passing by before you in a blur of colours and memories.

You had sympathised with Joel's struggles to adjust to life in Jackson, and given that you worked in the only bar in town, he quickly became a familiar face. You ignored Maria's warnings to stay away from him; after all, she didn't know him from Adam, and you felt it was unfair to judge someone on the things they had done as the world fell apart overnight.

So, slowly but surely, you found yourself at work, hoping each night that he would stop in so you could get to know him better, and he always did. Always opting to sit at the bar, despite there being plenty of more comfortable booths to sit at.

At first, it was always you who initiated the conversation, asking him how his day was, how the patrol had gone, and how Ellie was fitting in, and you listened tentatively to what little information he would give you. Until eventually, after a couple of months of the same routine, he started to open up to you.

He would ask you how you were, how your shift had been, if you had a good day off, and on occasion he would let slip that he "missed you yesterday" when he called in for a drink on his way home from patrol, only to be disappointed that you were nowhere to be found.

It made you giddy; he was on your mind constantly; it made you feel like there was a swarm of butterflies in your belly, but you thought it was only harmless flirting as there was a considerable age gap between you both, with Joel being in his fifties and you in your early thirties, you didn't think Joel would be interested in a relationship with you.

But how wrong you were! After a couple of weeks of late-night drinks after the bar had officially closed, Joel had bitten the bullet and asked you out, though he asked if you wouldn't mind keeping it between the two of you as he didn't know how Ellie would react to him seeing someone and you gladly accepted.

You understood that Ellie was and always would be his first priority, and you admired his unwavering dedication to her, especially after finding out that Ellie wasn't his blood relative; he had taken her on as "cargo," as he affectionately put it. As a way to get one step closer to finding his brother, but she had worked her way under his skin, much like she did with everyone she met. It was so difficult not to like her. With her quick wit and foul mouth, she never failed to make you laugh. She was definitely his daughter, blood or no blood.

The thought of Ellie brings your mind back to the question at hand: should you move in with them? Was now the right time? Was Ellie even okay about this? Did she even know Joel had asked you? Each question raced through your mind until your mouth found one it could form words around.

"What does Ellie think of this?" You asked Joel intently, reading his face for any signs of worry or panic at your question, but there were none to be found.

"I mentioned to Ellie a few months ago that I thought it would be nice if you were around all the time, and she agreed, and then I sat her down yesterday and told her that I was thinking of asking you today, and she was all for it. I don't want you to feel pressured in any way, though; it's okay if it's too soon; you can say no, and we won't be offended in the slightest!" Joel assures you, his voice is low and genuine.

He lifts his right hand to the side of your face and gently brushes the hair out of your eyes, his calloused thumb stroking back and forth as you lean into his touch, allowing your eyes to fall closed. Taking a deep breath, you throw caution to the wind.

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath, your voice drops to a whisper. "Yes, I'll move in."

Suddenly your body was moving, and not by its own volition; your eyes were still closed, so your brain was having trouble registering what was happening. When your eyes flashed open in surprise, you were caught up in Joel's arms, spinning around your small kitchen with your feet no longer planted on the floor.

"Joel!" You squeal through breathy laughter, placing your hands on his broad shoulders to steady yourself.

"Are you sure, baby?" He asks, his eyes sparkling with delight.

"Yes, I'm sure handsome, but I have one condition!" You warn him, arching a fluffy brow.

"Name your price, sweetheart," he smirks at you through the whiskers of his full moustache.

"I get to tell Ellie," You beam back at him, your hand rests on the back of his neck, fingers scractching lightly at the curls that have formed there.

"I think she'd like that," he ghosts against your lips, lightly brushing his nose against your own until you lean up and crush your mouth to his.

Three years later...

It has been a hectic few weeks for the community in Jackson, working through yet another savage winter. You were just through the middle of it, and the end was in sight. The snow storms were not as frequent and the winds were not as wild.

Work has been keeping you busy. You are still the main bartender at the Tipsy Bison, but much to Joel's dismay, you have also picked up a few patrol shifts to lend a hand to Tommy as a few of the older patrol crew stepped back into other work duties due to ill health.

It has felt like months since you and Joel have spent any quality time together, despite living in the same house and working in the same community. Whenever you were both home, he seemed distant and preoccupied, as if there was somewhere else he wanted to be. You tried to engage him in conversation, but he would only give you short answers before retreating into his own thoughts.

At first, you thought that he might just be stressed out from work duty or the weather, as bad as it has been, but as the days turned into weeks, you started to feel a growing sense of unease. You have never seen Joel act this way before, not with you at least, and you don't know what to do.

You miss his closeness; the late-night conversations at the bar while you finished up your shift—all of that has stopped, and no matter how many hours you spent trying to figure out why, you always came up blank.

So needless to say, you were looking forward to spending some quality time with Ellie this evening to help take your mind off your worries. You had stood under the shower for longer than you intended, just enjoying how the steaming water rolled down your tense frame.

With a sigh, you shut off the water and wrapped yourself in your towel, headed into your bedroom to get dressed, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude that the house had heating, an especially rare commodity with the world's current condition. Jackson really was a paradise of sorts.

"Ellie! C'mon kiddo, we're going to be late for the movie!," You shout from the bottom of the stairs, shrugging into your winter jacket.

Movie night Fridays have quickly become a tradition for you and Ellie, especially now that the winter has rolled back around and it's too cold to spend much time outdoors.

"Alright, I'm coming; Jesus, keep your hair on!" Ellie mutters as she makes her way down the stairs, where you wait for her.

"We only have 20 minutes before the film starts, and I know you're going to want to get snacks, so we've got to make tracks." You laugh as she rolls her eyes at you.

"Alright Mom," she mocks, sarcasm dripping from each word.

"You're such a little shit, you know that, right?" You tell her fondly with a warm smile.

"I know, it's all part of my charm," she grins.

"Ah, I see, and does Dina know all about your charm?" You playfully jab her ribs with your elbow, wagging your brows up and down.

"Ugh, you're so annoying; you know that, right?" Ellie counters, always so quick-witted.

"I know, it's all part of my charm," You repeat her words back to her, earning another eye roll.

The two of you leave the house and trudge out into the snow; thankfully, the blizzard has calmed, and now fat, fluffy flakes of snow flurry around you like something from a movie scene.

As brutal as they can be, you have never seen anything more beautiful than Jackson in the winter. It was like something you would see on a postcard of a ski village in the French Alps, all timber buildings and string lights illuminating the small town.

On Friday nights, the mess hall was turned into a makeshift movie theatre for the youth that lived in the commune, offering them some respite from the grind of daily life. It was complete with candy, drinks, and, of course, pop corn.

At first, Ellie hadn't seemed all that interested in going, not knowing many kids her age, but after a lot of coaxing and the promise that if she didn't like it, she didn't have to go again or even stay for the full movie, Though she quickly found her feet with Dina, the rest was really history.

"Where's Joel tonight? I thought he was going to come with us." Ellie asked curiously.

"Oh shit, I meant to tell you earlier; he said Tommy asked him to cover the evening patrol tonight, so he can't make it." You explained, not really sure why Tommy needed him to cover after already doing the afternoon patrol, but it must have been important, so you didn't give it a second thought.

You and Ellie walk in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the peaceful walk through town. You were about to ask her how she was getting on with her work detail when she came to a standstill.

"I thought you said Joel was on patrol tonight?" she demanded, her face contorting in confusion.

"Uh yeah, Ellie, I just told you that." You confirm, your own confusion mirroring hers.

"Then what the fuck is he doing in the bar?" She fumes, gesturing behind you to the window of the Tipsy Bison.

Sure enough, there he sits at the bar with Jenna. Joel was nursing a whisky, and she was playfully peeling back the homemade label of her beer bottle. They are sitting in the corner booth by the window, leaning towards each other to the point where their heads are far too close to be appropriate.

In that moment, your breathing stopped. Your stomach sank to the floor, and an overwhelming sense of panic and dread began to claw viciously from your chest up your throat, resting heavy on your tongue.

"Are you okay?" Ellie asks nervously, not really sure what to do or say in this situation. It could be nothing, but even to her, it definitely looked like something.

"Y-yeah, I'm good. Ellie, why don't you go on down to the mess hall, and I'll meet you there in a few?" You tell her more than ask, your eyes never leaving the window.

"No way fuck that I'm staying with you!" she demands, her eyes growing wet around her long lashes.

"No, Ellie, I need to talk to Joel; I will catch up with you in a few, okay?" You meet her eyes and nod in the direction of the mess hall. She only nods in response; your tone is final as she turns on her heel and storms towards the makeshift movie theatre.

What the fuck is happening right now? You trusted Joel; it never bothered you when the ladies in Jackson would bat their eyes at him or when their glances lingered a little too long. You took it as a compliment; hell, if you were them, you would stare too.

Your relationship was built on a foundation of honesty and trust from the very beginning. You have told him things you have never shared with another living soul, and he has done the same with you. Never in your life did you think you would be lucky enough to share a connection with someone the way you have with Joel, let alone after the world had ended.

And now here you stand in the middle of town, watching the man you love cosy up with another woman in plain sight, not even having the decency to try and hide it from you.

You stand there for another few minutes, watching how he leans across the table to talk to her, laughing and caressing his arm in response. It sets fire to your blood, and you can feel it moving like molten lava in your veins.

You're moving before you realise you have made the decision to do so, your feet carrying you furiously forward, up to the short creaking steps and through the entrance to the bar, and then there you are, looming over their table. Your eyes bore holes into his skull. He jumps in his seat and scrambles frantically to hide the notebook that was sitting open on the table between them. You didn't pay it a second glance.

"I didn't realise the bar needed patrolling this evening," you state pointedly at him, ignoring Jenna, who is doing everything she can to avoid eye contact with you, fidgeting in her seat, and clambering to get her things together. Grabbing her coat and scarf from beside her.

"Hey darlin, I thought you and Ellie were heading to the movies." He asks, his voice rough with his attempts to hide his nerves.

"We were on our way there when she saw this cosy scene from the street." You gesture with your hand towards the table, your voice icy as you let your hand drop to your side with an audible slap, which made Jenna flinch.

"I think I'm going to head out…" Jenna murmurs in a small, quiet voice, still avoiding your gaze.

"That is a wise decision" You agreed without taking your eyes of Joel.

She throws Joel a cryptic glance before clambering out of her seat and quickly making her way to the door, shooting Joel an apologetic glance over her shoulder, which only fuels the rage bubbling up in your throat.

"What the fuck?" You growl at him, doing your best to keep your voice under control. The last thing you wanted was to cause a scene. Especially not at your workplace, regardless of whether you were on shift or not.

"What's wrong with you?" he asks, genuinely confused by your anger.

"Please tell me you're joking," you seethe.

"What? I can't have a drink with a friend." He scoffs, incredulous.

"Seriously Joel? Since when have you had to lie about working to have a drink with a friend?"

"Don't you think you're overreacting just a bit?" he countered, avoiding the question.

"No, I really don't think I am. How could you do this? How could you do this in front of Ellie?!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Joel huffs back at you, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your eyes begin to prick with anger fuelled tears; the feeling of betrayal rips through you, leaving you exposed to his hard gaze. You can't take any more of this. It feels like the room is closing in around you. That you will suffocate if you don't leave right now. You look at him once more, and the fact that he hasn't denied it or assured you that this is anything other than what you fear it to be ,allows your world to crumble around you.

"Alright," you manage in a broken whisper that comes out as a choked sob.

With that, you turn and bolt for the door, desperately gasping for air but unable to get enough to fill your lungs. You have to brace yourself on the railing of the porch. You can feel his eyes on you as he watches you leave from where he sits frozen at the table, but he makes no move to follow after you.

Willing your legs to move, you push off the railing and slowly make your way to the mess hall, slipping in just as the movie is starting. You can see Ellie is sitting in the middle of the crowded room, and she has saved you a seat beside her.

You make your way to the restroom, taking in your reflection for the first time that evening. Your face is red and splotchy from crying, your eyes puffy, and your lips swollen from your teeth worrying at them. With shaking hands, you reach out to turn the tap on, splashing the icy cold water over your face as you try to make sense of what has just unfolded.

You knew Jenna; she is one of the few people trained in blacksmithing in Jackson, but you had never been especially close with her. She would frequent the bar and chat with you about her work day and vice versa, but that was the extent of your relationship with her, and you have never seen Joel interact with her. It just didn't make sense; why would he throw everything away for a fling with someone who lives in the same commune? Did he really think you wouldn't find out?

You do your best to shake the thoughts from your head, focused on spending the rest of the evening with Ellie, you will do everything in your power to shelter her from this. So with a deep breath, you put a smile on your face and left the restroom, smiling and waving politely at familiar faces as you made your way to your seat, stopping by the makeshift concession stand to grab Ellie some popcorn and a soda on your way.

"Hey, I've got you some snacks, kiddo." You whisper to her, not wanting to interrupt the film.

"Thanks, are you okay?" She murmered with a small smile. Taking the snacks from your outstretched hands.

"Yes, of course everything's fine; there was a mix-up with the patrols, so Joel didn't have to work tonight after all." You reassured her softly.

It cut you to the bone to have to lie to her to cover up his indiscretion because you didn't want her to think any less of him. He is her world, and she is his, and you wouldn't be the one to jeopardise that.

It cut you to the bone to have to lie to her to cover up his indiscretion because you didn't want her to think any less of him. He is her world, and she is his, and you wouldn't be the one to jeopardise that.

You weren't really sure what movie was even playing tonight, so lost in your thoughts that it was just a blurry hum in the background. Ellie had to nudge your shoulder several times to tell you that the movie had was over. Glancing around to find a steady stream of people filing out of the mess hall.

"Sorry, Ellie, I'm just a bit distracted tonight; work has been so hectic recently, and I have so much to do when I open tomorrow." You do your best to laugh it off. Hoping that she will let it go and that she wasn't being as observant tonight as she usually is. The girl misses nothing.

"It's okay, the film was a repeat anyway," she shrugs, not pressing you on the matter, though you know all too well that the questions will come eventually.

"Shall we head home? It sounds like it's getting pretty rough out there," you noted, as another howl of wind wipped around the wooden building.

"Sounds good; I want to have a shower before Joel uses all the hot water again," she ribs in a peel of bright laughter that sends warmth radiating through your now hollow chest.

When you reach the house, you find it in darkness. Joel hasn't made it home yet, and although you are beyond angry, you can't help but worry about him. Of course he can look after himself, but it isn't like him to be out this late if he wasn't on patrol.

The seething voice in the back of your head reminds you that he could be with her. You try to push those thoughts out of your head, but they linger like a dark cloud, casting a grim shadow over what was your perfect - or as perfect as it could be - life.

"I'm going for a shower and then head to bed, you okay?" Ellie asks, once again pulling you from your thoughts.

"Yeah, of course, kiddo, no worries. Do you need anything? You want some tea?" You offer as you head to the stove and place a pot of water on to boil.

"No, I'm good. Thanks though, g'night!" She calls over her shoulder, and then you are alone in the small kitchen.

"Night kiddo," You call quietly to her as you reach for the herbal tea blend that you and Ellie grew in your little garden last summer.

As you wait for the water to boil, your mind starts to race with worry and anxiety. You can't help but think of all the possible scenarios that could be keeping Joel out this late, and the thought of him being with another woman makes you want to break things. You have tried to push those thoughts out of your head so many times this evening, but they keep creeping back.

A few hours later, you are sitting in one of the armchairs in the living room, desperately fighting to keep your eyes open, but in the end you give up, gently placing your book on the coffee table and removing the blanket from your lap. You look at the clock on the wall, and it's just after 3am.

You pad into the kitchen and leave your mug in the sink, too tired to wash it now; that's tomorrow's problem. Heading up the creaky stairs to your bedroom and crawling into the cold sheets. It feels wrong going to bed without Joel by your side, but he is god knows where right now, so you lean over, turn the bedside lamp off, and sink into a restless, uneasy sleep.

You wake to the wintery morning sunshine seeping through your bedroom window. Instinctively, you run your hand across Joel's side of the bed; it's unmade but cold, so he did come home last night, but he was up before you, which is unusual.

Instinctively, you run your hand across Joel's side of the bed; it's unmade but cold, so he did come home last night, but he was up before you, which is unusual.

Slowly sitting up in bed, you stretch your tired bones, sore from your restless few hours of sleep, and swing your legs out of bed. It's only 7 a.m.; you don't usually open the bar until midday, so you have plenty of time to get ready.

You slink down the stairs, careful not to wake Ellie as you do so. Heading into the kitchen mid-yawn, you stop in your tracks as you find Joel standing at the stove, hovering over a pot of boiling water on the closest ring to him.

"Mornin'," he husks without turning; he must have heard you yawning with his good ear to the doorway.

You ignore him, knowing full well that it's petty and childish and ultimately will not resolve anything, but with the way he behaved last night, you feel the cold shoulder is justified.

You both continue with your morning rituals in silence. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but you didn't know where to begin broaching the subject, and the more you stewed over it, the more you felt he should be the one to open the conversation with an explanation, but if you were being totally honest with yourself, you were beginning to worry that you may have jumped to conclusions.

But when you thought about the way they were huddled together, her hand on his arm, and the way she tipped her head back in laughter at each thing he said, the pit in your stomach grew. As did the silence between you.

Things went on like this for days, with the two of you skirting around each other and avoiding eye contact. Only speaking to each other when absolutely necessary, like dinner times, and giving each other your work duties for the week.

You could see the effect this was having on Ellie; she has been especially quiet the last few days, so once Joel leaves for work, you sit with her on the couch and try to get her to open up.

"Ellie, is everything okay?" you ask, trying to keep your tone light.

"I don't know. You and Joel have been acting weird lately, and it's making me tense." She shrugs, not meeting your gaze.

You take a deep breath, knowing that you can't keep avoiding the issue. "Yeah, we've been having some problems. But it's nothing you need to worry about, kiddo."

"It doesn't seem like nothing," she retorts. "You guys haven't spoken in days. It's not like you."

"I know, Ellie. I just don't know how to fix it." You sigh.

"Maybe you could start by talking to him," she suggests.

"It's not that simple, Ellie. There's a lot going on." You shake your head.

"Well, maybe it would help if you talked to me about it," she offers.

"Thanks, Ellie. But it's not something I can really discuss with you. Just know that Joel and I are working through some things and we'll get through it." You smile softly at her, grateful for her kindness.

She nods, not looking convinced but not pressing the issue. You sit in silence for a moment before she stands up. "I'm gonna head out for a bit. Need to clear my head."

"Okay, kiddo. Be safe," you say, watching her leave.

You're left alone in the quiet house, the weight of your problems still heavy on your shoulders. You know Ellie is right; you need to talk to Joel. But the thought of confronting him is daunting, and you don't know if you want to hear what he has to say.

What if he doesn't want you anymore? What if he's not happy and hasn't been for a while?

You decide that enough is enough. After work this evening, you are going to speak to him and attempt to clear the air, hear his side of the story, and try to move forward, if not for the sake of your relationship but for Ellie. It's not fair to have this weighing on her shoulders; it's not her fault, and you hate seeing her unhappy, and you know that Joel will feel the same about his if nothing else.

The workday drags on uneventfully; the only thing standing out was that Jenna had come to the bar for the first time since that evening. She gave you a small smile, and you returned it with a polite nod. You were at work after all and took it upon yourself to remain as professional as possible.

Jenna approaches the bar and orders her usual, which you pour for her without issue, though it makes your skin itchy to be this close to her.

"Have you spoken to Joel yet?" she asks quietly. Wiping her fingertips across the bartop.

You stare at her blankly; the audacity of this woman boggles your mind.

"No," you respond curtly.

"Okay, well, when you do, come and find me. We'll have a lot to discuss." She states matter-of-factly, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips.

Before you have the chance to give her a piece of your mind, she is walking away from the bar, her long auburn hair swishing to her lower back. What the fuck is her problem?

You try to get through the rest of your day without dwelling on the conversation you had with Jenna, focusing more on the impending conversation you are going to have with Joel this evening. Thinking about what you were going to say to him, how you were going to explain how you felt, and how hurt you have been over the last few days.

You lock up the bar and head towards home for the evening, taking a little more time than you usually would, feet dragging, dreading the fight that would likely ensue once you had spoken to him. You tell yourself you will keep a level head, but you know deep down your temper would not allow that to happen if he gave you some bullshit excuse.

As you approach the small, snow-covered pathway that leads to the back porch of your home, you pause there, unable to bring yourself to go inside. So you take a seat on the second step and watch the flurries of fluffy snow as they make their way through the air to join the pillowy blanket that covers everything in sight.

You sit there for what feels like hours. Jackson was always quiet; it needed to be in order to keep what you have here safe, but as you sit in the darkness, the only light coming from the dim porch light and the light seeping through the thin linen curtains from the living room, it feels eerily silent and still. The sound of the backdoor creaking open made you jump. The heavy footsteps that followed, however, were all too familiar.

"You gonna stay out here all night?" He asked quietly, his voice low and soft.

"No, I was just… well, I don't really know what I was doing." You offer a small laugh, void of any humour.

Joel takes a few steps and groans loudly as he lowers himself to join you where you sit. He is quiet for a few moments until he finally speaks.

"I wanted to say that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the other night and how it must have looked. I'm sorry for not explaining to you then and there what it was; I didn't want to tell you, and I still don't really. But I promise you on my life that it is not what you think it is, Darlin," he says softly, regret heavy in his tone.

"I don't understand Joel; I just want to understand what the fuck has been going on," you pleaded, hating how desperate your voice sounded.

"I know, baby, and I'm going to tell you. I just didn't want to ruin the surprise. I also didn't want to tell you without speaking to Ellie first, but I spoke to her at dinner, and now she understands." He assures you, his hand coming up to brush your cold cheek for the first time in days, and it was impossible not to lean into the heat of his palm.

"Okay, so now everyone knows but me, why were you all cozied up with Jenna? Why did you lie to me about going to work?" You challenged him, removing your face from his touch.

"Hold on," he huffs, shifting his weight to one hip as he fishes for something in his back pocket before continuing. "It will make more sense once you see this, or I hope it will at least," he offers as he hands you a beaten-up, leather-bound note book.

"What is this?" You ask him, you remember seeing it on the table in the bar the other night.

"Would you just open it?" he sighs, rubbing his hand through his patchy whiskers nervously.

You do as he says and open the notebook, and what you find takes you aback. The notebook is filled almost front to back with little sketches of rings and little notes about different metals and gems in his familar handwriting and another that you don't recognize.

"Wh-what is this?" You repeat, stunned. So many thoughts racing through your mind and you are beggining to realise that you have completely misread the situaiton the other night.

"I know I was going to have to tell you about it eventually, you know for your size and all but I was planning to do that after I asked you…but then with the other night I wasn't sure what to say and I was kind of pissed off that you where angry at me, I didn't stop to think that you weren't in on the secret and what it must have looked like to you," Joel's hand came to rest on your knee squeezing reassuringly as he explained the circumstances that lead to what you saw in the bar.

"I have been meeting up with Jenna over the last few weeks, she's the only blacksmith in Jackson that used to make jewelry…specifically engagement rings," he paused allowing his words to sink in before finishing his explination.

"We've been trying to figure out how to make you one, what metals mix well from what I have found on supply runs, whether to hold off if I could find a stone or a gem, or if we could make it without one,"

You stare at him, a mix of astonishment and disbelief washing over you. The pieces start to fall into place, and you realize the truth behind Joel's actions. The anger and hurt that had consumed you begin to melt away, replaced by a flood of emotions, the most promanent being embarrassment.

"You were planning to… ask me?" you stutter, your voice barely a whisper. The weight of your accusation hangs heavy in the air as you struggle to comprehend the situation.

"Yeah, I was. I've been saving up for months, looking for the right opportunity, and I wanted it to be a surprise. Jenna's been helping me because she's skilled at crafting intricate pieces. I wanted to make something special for you, something that would last a lifetime." Joel nods, his eyes filled with sincerity.

Tears well up in your eyes as the realization of your mistake dawns upon you. You reach for Joel's hand, intertwining your fingers with his. "Oh, Joel, I'm so sorry," you say, your voice trembling. "I jumped to conclusions without knowing the whole story. I never thought…I feel like such a peice of shit, I'm so sorry"

"It's okay, darlin'. I should've communicated better, explained everything to you beforehand. I understand why you were upset." He squeezes your hand gently, his thumb caressing your knuckles.

"But why did you lie about going to work?" you inquire, still wanting to grasp every detail.

"We thought it would be best if we kept it a secret until it was ready. And I didn't want you to suspect anything. I wanted the proposal to be a surprise, and I was afraid if I told you I was hanging out with Jenna, you'd figure it out before I had the chance." He shrugged.

"Joel, I can't believe you're doing this. You've put so much thought and effort into making something special for us. I don't deserve it. I don't deserve you. I have been so awful to you over the last few days," You let out a shaky breath, your heart filled with a strange mix of relief, shame and joy.

A soft smile graces Joel's lips as he brushes a strand of hair from your face. "Don't say that, sweetheart. You deserve the world, and I want to give it to you. I love you more than anything, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Tears stream down your face now, but they're tears of happiness. You lean in and rest your head on Joel's shoulder, feeling the warmth of his presence envelop you. The weight of the misunderstanding lifts, leaving behind a newfound sense of trust and appreciation.

"I love you too, Joel," you whisper, your voice filled with sincerity. "I'm sorry for being such a bitch and for overreacting. I should have known you'd never do anything to hurt me."

"Hey, we all make mistakes, darlin'. It wouldn't be the first time I've got pissed at you for something I misunderstood now is it?." he chuckles quietly, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

"I guess no ones perfect," you echo his laughter leaning into him further.

As you sit together on the porch steps, surrounded by the beauty of the snowfall, you realize that the snow isn't the only thing that's melting. The icy barriers that had formed between you and Joel are slowly thawing away, leaving behind a comfortable quiet.

"So, now that the cats out of the bag, will you…?" he asks his deep voice thick with emotion.

"Will I what handsome?" You look up at him teasing, your eyes twinkling.

A playful grin tugs at the corners of Joel's mouth as he meets your gaze. "Will you marry me, my beautiful, stubborn, and occasionally misunderstood partner in crime?" he asks, his voice laced with a mixture of nervousness and hope.

Your heart skips a beat at his words, and a surge of excitement courses through you. You pretend to ponder his question, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Well, I don't know, Joel. I mean, after all that's happened, can I really trust you with my heart?" you tease, a smile playing on your lips.

Joel feigns a look of hurt, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. "Oh, come on now. I've endured snowball fights, kitchen mishaps, you and Ellie ganging up on me and even your questionable taste in movies. If that's not true love, I don't know what is."

Laughter bubbles up from within you, and you lean in closer, pressing your forehead against his. "Joel, you are my love and my rock. Of course, I'll marry you," you say, your voice filled with so much love.

In that peaceful moment, wrapped in the calm of the snowfall and the safety of his strong arms, you realize that there will be silly arguments, misunderstandings and cold shoulders, but you will always find your way back to each other. You let out a sigh of contentment as Joel presses silent kisses against your head, happy to sit here forever wrapped up in him.

Knowing that Joel and Ellie will forever be your guiding lights.

#joel x reader #Joel miller x reader #joel x female reader #joel miller x female reader #joel x f!reader #joel miller #ellie wili #joel and ellie #joel x you #joel x y/n #Pedro pasca #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #tlou fic #fic request #mylostloversbookmarks

[rosemaze-reveries]

huehue subjecting the tl once again to my nightly sewer rot.... imagine bumping into fellow at a soiree

i think it'd be funnie if u were something of an experienced socialite too 🫡 fellow is charming and doles out very thoughtful flattery, but between all the pretty words it's obvious he's trying to dig around for some deeper info from you. you pick up on it immediately. even so— the idea of getting caught up in the night w/ a stranger (who's clearly not supposed to be here) entices you more than waving him off immediately 😮‍💨

he'll give you a night of magic thinking he's got you under his spell, but it's your words that slowly undo him throughout the night. as your time together progresses he gets the same idea as you — to follow your rhythm and lose himself in the moment — though he's certain he still has the upper hand.

when the sun comes up and your fairy tale ends, you kiss him goodbye with a "someday we'll meet again" ♡ it's a lie you elegantly slipped in, but it leaves him winded and a bit electrified, like he wasn't ready to wake up just yet. he watches you vanish back into the thinning crowd of dancers — and realizes he never even caught your name, much less any of the information he wanted (he is so embarrassing)

#the wily fox forgets he was supposed to be a villain.... #maybe we all want to be swept off our feet sometimes #he's a dreamer at heart 🙄🙄 he deserves a fairy tale romance #twst posting #twst imagines #fellow honest #fellow honest x reader

[vagabond-umlaut]

every rose and its 'twin prickles'

Or: you and the two fearsome monsters, your knightly husband must wage a war against everyday, for the sake of a glimpse of you.

▸ dad!gojo satoru x mom!reader; 1.45 wc; fluff, fluff, gallons and gallons of fluff; a pair of cute, possessive and too-wise-for-their-age babies who love their mama wayyy too much; poor miserable deprived 'toru; sprinkles of humor too added in there; implied no curses!au

▸ i dump the blame of this on @afortoru's shoulders. A, look what you made me do ▸ writing this genre for the 1st time! characters, image or divider used aren't mine. please don't plagiarize or translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

Do you know what’s the best thing about work? 

Every evening it ends early. 

Do you know what’s the best thing about home? 

Every evening you’re there.   

Walking into the barely-lit flat, a soft smile lights up the expanse of Satoru’s face as the quiet sounds of snoring float over from the bedroom. Dumping the bag on the sofa and shrugging off the coat, the man moves silently further into the apartment – weary mind conjuring images of you in an oversized black tee [of his], curled into yourself in the king-sized bed, the cutest little pout on your lips as you babble in your sleep – then pauses, a hand on the doorknob.  

Two pairs of blue eyes sparkle at him from the almost-darkness of the room.  

Satoru closes the door behind and slumps against it.  

Two matching grins aim at his heart from the human blanket over your form. 

Sharp. Shrewd. Cruel. 

You wrap an arm round each of those two monkeys – the latter back here from their grandparents', two days before schedule.  

Ten years ago, were anyone to tell Satoru there would be a day in the future when he would have to fight for you, only to taste defeat, again and again and again, the man would have emptied his glass of champagne on their clothes, then kicked them out of the reception party. 

Yet, now... as he trudges closer to the door and extends a hand to brush a few wily wisps of hair away from your forehead – only to have it slapped away harshly by a little palm – he can’t help but wonder what sin he committed in his previous birth, to have received an angel like you as his wife, but two demons like them for his children.  

Sachiko, the older of the twins, glares up at her father. “Papa, no!! Mama’s sleeping,” She whisper-yells, eyes darting from him to you than back to him, lips tugged down in a scowl, the likes of which he has only seen in a mirror. On your other side, a mop of white hair nods, albeit not without a tiny yawn – Sachiro’s definitely inherited your sleepiness in a rainy weather.  

Satoru lifts an eyebrow in return. “I can see that, you two. Now go, play with your toys or something. I wanna cuddle with my wife.” 

“But we too wanna cuddle with Mama,” Sachiko retorts as she slips out from under your arm and sits up on the bed. The tiny ponytail on her white head stays in a complete disarray; your husband watches your daughter tug at it a couple of times, frowning, before she gives up, returning her glower to him as she continues, “So, you can’t cuddle with her. Mama is ours now.” 

Your son again gives a small “yes” at her words, followed by a yawn – a reaction which Sachiko doesn’t deem to be enough, apparently, given how she throws a glare his way next. “Hey, whose team are you on, dumbo? Mine or Papa’s?” 

The answer arrives in an instant, in the most matter-of-factly voice possible from a five-year-old. “Yours, obviously. I don’t want Papa to steal Mama away. She’s ours.” 

The smug grin directed his way next makes Satoru want to flick two foreheads pretty hard – but he doesn’t. Any rash or impulsive action can only do him more harm now, driving him further away from his goal.  

So, cogs whirring in his brain, he crouches down to his kids’ eye level and smiles.  

“What do you think of a compromise, kids? Why don’t you make a deal with me?”  

Two pairs of blue clash with the original pair of blue for a while, suspicion in one, suspicious curiosity in the other, while challenge swirls in the last; before a huff breaks the staring contest and your daughter folds her arms across her chest. Exchanging a glance and a nod with her, your son too sits up and announces, “Okay, we’re interested. What’s the deal?” 

Your husband lets out an internal whoop of victory. 

“Belgian chocolates in exchange for a cuddling session with my wife.” 

“Bleh!” Sachiko makes a disgusted face – something which takes him back to his younger days when Suguru and Shoko used to imitate his expressions – and whines, “They are so bitter, yuck! Suggest something better.” 

“A doll house for you and a car for Sachiro, if that’s the case.” 

The latter is the one to turn down this time. Tone brimmed with disappointment – something he can only ever learn from you – he says, “But you just bought us one last month, Papa! Mama always asks you to save money... why don’t you ever listen to her?” 

A knife of guilt lodges itself into his heart and twists. Satoru sighs. “I do... I try to, always, but you two make it so difficult for me to! Why are you like this? Is it so unfair to want to spend some time with her? She is as much my wife as much she’s your mom.” 

“We know,” The addressed two answer in unison with sage little nods of their head. The girl continues with a grave expression matching her brother’s, “But we can also ask you the same, Papa. She is as much our mom as she’s your wife. Is it so unfair to want to spend some time with her?”  

“Besides, you spent five extra years with her, before we were born. We just want to make up for the time lost,” Sachiro chimes in with a pout. “Tell us, Papa,” The two again speak in a heart-wrenching chorus, “Is it so unfair to want to spend some time with her?” 

“The kids are right, y’know?” A mumble pops the gravity of the situation at hand, and Satoru looks down to find you awake, cracking an amused smile at them. He huffs, rising from the floor and plopping on the bed next to you, arms folded against chest.

“Can’t believe I am so unloved and unwanted in this world. My kids don’t love me. They don’t listen to me. My wife too doesn’t love me. She never supports me. Welp, got to be the unluckiest to be in my shoes right now, I guess.” 

Your husband pauses, giving a small break for the words to sink into everyone, before you let out a long exhale and send him a minor twitch of your lips. Sachiko moves to pat his head, the same moment Sachiro reaches over to clasp his small arms around his neck. You too rise and embrace him from behind, placing a small kiss in between his shoulder blades.  

“Y’know, it’s not like that,” You say, placing your ear on his back, “Just ’cause the kids love me more doesn’t mean they don’t love you. And it’s not even your fault – my personality is so awesome, everyone can’t help but adore me the moment they see me – isn't that right, babies?” 

“Right, Mama,” A pair of wonderstruck voices ring out in reply to your jocular question – you continue in the same note, with another kiss, this time on the nape of his neck.

“And because your awesome Mama’s asking you now, will you two be good babies and let Papa too sleep here with us? Look at him: he’s so tired and sad. You don’t want your dearest Papa to be sad and tired, right? You will let him cuddle with us, won't you?” 

Satoru watches the twins look at each other for a second, then the younger acquiesce, “Papa can cuddle with us. That’s okay, maybe.” The two then proceed to shoot a particularly sharp look at him; one he responds to with a cheeky smirk, which disappears into a soft smile when he feels you manoeuvre his face towards yourself, a light grasp on his chin.  

“See, the kids agreed. Now, are you feeling loved and wanted?” 

“Infinitely more,” He replies with a peck on your lips – however, before he can deepen the kiss a tad more, you bring him into a sleeping posture beside you, the kids immediately piling on top of the two of you. You offer him something between a cute pout and a sorry smile, which earns a wink from your husband. 

Turning to one side, Satoru drags you, Sachiko lying on top of you and Sachiro lying in between him and you, into himself, letting him be lulled to sleep by the melody of your laughs and your kids’ half-hearted harrumphs.

  

Do you know what’s the best thing about life? 

Every tiniest bit of it he gets to spend beside you, the light of his life, and the two imps, your and his love brought into this world – even if he knows he’s going to get kicked out of bed the very microsecond you fall asleep again. 

▸ masterlist

#dad!gojo x mom!reader #dad!gojo #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo fluff #gojo fic #gojo satoru #jjk fluff #jjk fic #jjk fanfic #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #kit posts 📝

[bits-and-babs]

𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆, 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 — 𝐊𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐆

synopsis : könig’s job affords him an air of authority and power that few other professions can. an admission that you find this particularly attractive piques his interest.

pairing : könig x f!civilian!reader (‘perle’)

warnings : 18+ mdni. gun kink!!! this is zero plot, 100% filth, i got a little carried away- gun in mouth. könig is flirty and cheeky because he is, damn it. domxsub dynamics, praise kink, fingering, oral sex (m receiving). size kink, degradation kink, uniform kink all present if you really squint.

könig masterlist ୨୧ main masterlist ୨୧ join taglist ୨୧ ask

Forest green eyes gaze at you through a black, threadbare veil, an eyebrow arching in silent query. Despite the draped cloth obscuring his expression, you can imagine he's smirking, the edge of his lips pulling up as he grapples with your admission. Pride and self-satisfaction roll off König's massive shoulders in waves, though the sheer immensity of his frame makes it feel far more like an avalanche. 

"You like my uniform?" He repeats your admittance, his thick accent lilting in amusement. It's mortifying, you think, to let König into your mind and show the elite soldier just how much he affects you.

You'd hate to seem disrespectful, to reduce his valorous job to some kind of uniform kink- 

"Schatzi?" König pushes gently, watching you squirm under his interrogation from across the room. Chewing on your lip, you note how it smarts slightly, tender from worrying it with your teeth. 

"Mhm- It's more... That I like it on you." The confession makes you cringe internally, expecting König to laugh or reduce your fantasy to that of a 'civvy stereotype'. 

König appears momentarily caught off guard. You see both dark eyebrows arch in mild surprise before a sort of realisation and subsequent amusement settle into those viridescent irises. 

"You mean I am special?" He muses, setting towards you ever so slowly. For such a hulking mass of man, König moves stealthily, delicate footwork almost inaudible. "Not just any soldier?"

"No!" You insist instantly, cheeks heating up under his inquisitive gaze, "No... It's just you- Just you in the uniform."

König hums softly, a sound of acknowledgement as he advances towards you slowly. The intimidation you feel drips down your spine and settles in the pit of your stomach. He's not as threatening as a lion, with brute force and indiscriminate power. No, he reminds you of a hyena, cunning and wily. The knowing look in his eye only adds to the feeling that he's up to something, and your heart thumps in your chest when he continues to search your expression. 

"Tell me. What about the uniform do you like so?" He urges you to detail your desires. You're beginning to wish you'd never mentioned anything because König looks like he's dangling bait between your eyes to coax you into a trap.

"Uhm," you fumble for an answer, those lush eyes calmly studying your trembling frame. When you drag your eyes over König’s body for an answer, you observe the strain of his shirt buttons and the revolver holster strapped to his thigh. He's sown extra length to the leather ties with scraps from a belt, standard military equipment far too small for his tremendous frame.

"I like- The way it fits you? The power, the guns, an-"

"The guns?" He wonders aloud, but there's a sly inflection to his question, guileful. Swallowing thickly, you wonder if you've overstepped a mark, opening and closing your mouth like a witless fish as you attempt to piece together some kind of backtrack-

"You understand their danger, of course?" König quizzes rhetorically, seemingly sated by your vehement nod, "You think they look good? Then... I am willing to share a glimpse of one. That is, if you continue to be so open and honest with me." 

It's an odd sensation, the feeling of your blood running cold but the pit of your stomach burning hot with arousal. König doesn't even give you a moment to dispute, halting his advancing footsteps and deciding instead to revert, putting distance between you and taking a seat. 

"K- König-" You want to ask him to tell you what he has planned, but the words wither on your tongue when you see him draw the stainless steel revolver from its holster. It glints in the fluorescent lighting above your head, coaxing you forward. It's as though he's pushed cotton between your lips, drying your mouth. 

"Perle," he copies you, shifting his hips forward in the seat and slowly letting his colossal thighs part. From here, his eyes look darker, his pupils swallowing his irises as he drops his hand and places the revolver in his lap. "Come take a look."

It cracks up the length of your spine, sparking white hot and burning in your cheeks. W-What? You let out a nervous giggle, stepping forward to begin your approach. 

König doesn't seem to like it, though. He tilts his head in silent warning, and you stop dead in your tracks. He told you-

"Crawl for me, Liebchen," König murmurs, resting his bicep against the seat's headrest. Every inch of his body is relaxed, muscles lazy as his eyes drag across the length of his body. You're almost certain you can feel their path across your skin, leaving burning embers in their wake. God, it's genuinely pathetic; how quickly you fall to your knees. 

The intensity of his gaze bores into you as you settle on your hand and knees. Embarrassment no longer controls you, your arousal overriding any possible humiliation as you crawl across the floor towards him. König's eyes are an open book, pleased and proud of your willingness to take orders–– it encourages you, prompting you to put a slight sway to your hips. 

You'd have to be blind to notice it; the generous length bobbing and straining against the khaki trousers. Despite his obvious discomfort, König does nothing to satiate his arousal, focusing all his attention on you alone when you finally kneel between his feet. 

"Mein kleiner Schatz," the purr rumbles in his chest as König reaches forward, stroking the barrel of the gun across your cheekbone. The chromed steel is cold, chilling your skin and breaking goosebumps across your arms. "You look so pretty like this."

Anticipation prickles down your spine, whimpering softly. You lean into König's touch, turning towards the pistol and pressing a kiss to the steel barrel. You see the flicker of arousal in König's green eyes and how his eyelids grow heavy. 

"Scheiße, you like that?" he groans, dragging the nose of the gun across your lips like the bullet of a lipstick. "My weapon big enough for my girl?" He smirks when you nod, looking up at your lover through your lashes. 

It's downright vulgar, utterly disgusting, but you can't help yourself anymore. The way König looks down at you with this look in his eyes, like he could swallow you whole, makes arousal curl so hot and thick in your stomach that you can't deny your throbbing clit any longer. Sliding your fingers underneath your waistband, you rub small circles on your clit. 

"Oh," König sighs, watching as you let out a gasp of relief. The breath expels from your lungs hot and heavy, misting up the reflective steel surface of the revolver. "Look at you, Perle. Share with me; I want to watch." 

Fumbling with the buttons on your pants, you desperately work out of them and yank them over your hips, panties and all. The searing gaze above you settles on your pussy as you play with your clit, adding to the bliss that sparks across your skin. 

"Mhmm," König hums again, like you've placed an exquisite meal before him. "All wet for me, Schatzi; it's all across your thighs." 

You nod weakly, breath shuddering as you grind into your palm with a whimper. "P-Please-"

"Kiss the gun again, Perle. I'll make you feel good," he promised you, his voice thick and deep with his arousal. You nod thoughtlessly, far too overwhelmed by the need to feel his hands on you to deny his request. You press your lips to the barrel of the gun over and over, slowly and sensually, as though you were kissing his cock. 

"Good girl," he praises, though his words catch in his throat when you take a leap. Opening your mouth, you bring the barrel tip between your teeth, looking up at König through your lashes and letting out a wanton moan. 

Big mistake. 

König uses the balls of his heels to skirt forward in the seat, his knees on either side of your head. He stares down at you, chest heaving as he leans down and pats your hip sharply. 

"Stand up on your knees," he orders, the severity in his voice similar to how he speaks to his KorTac team. You can’t help but wonder if he gets a kick out of it too– some kind of power surge thanks to his promotion.

"Yes, colonel," you address him by his title as you rise, and König growls so deep and low that you're sure the floor rumbles beneath you. He works his massive hand over your own, taking control and slowing your fingers' ministrations to a maddeningly slow cycle. 

"Such a good girl, Shatz," he coos, and once again, you can hear the smirk on his lips as he watches your body crumple with the wave of arousal his control shoots through you. "So receptive. Would you like it in your mouth?"

Whimpering softly, you look up at him in question. Was it safe? Well- Of course it wasn't safe; none of this was. 

"Trust me," he urges you softly, finally replacing the swirling touch of your finger with his own. There's no escaping the drag of his fingerprint, the digit so much larger than your own. 

You nod again, the blissful arousal so mind-numbing that it overrides your fear. Then, letting your jaw hang loose, your eyes practically roll back into your skull when König rests the barrel of the deadly weapon across your tongue.

"Hahh," König groans, sinking his fingers into your soaked cunt. You wail, body bracing and shuddering at the intrusion as his fingers alone stretch you out. "Is that good, Mein kleiner Schatz? Hmm? Does it feel cold in your mouth?"

You nod slightly, managing a quiet 'mhm-hm' to answer your Colonel vocally. Excitement blooms in your chest when you see it pleases him, his fingers sliding deeper into you while working your clit ever so slowly. 

"Does it feel good, though?" He checks in with you, still adamant about your comfort despite his dominant role. You nod again. 

"Good," he chuckles, staring down at you with such an intensity that you almost forget his eyes are green, his pupil dilated so much that they've practically devoured his verdant irises. It rocks you, another blissful wave of arousal sweeping from head to toe. 

Wrapping your lips around the barrel, you allow yourself to get carried away even further. You hollow your cheeks, eyelashes fluttering as you put on the erotic display to work König up even more. 

"Schei- Filthy girl!" You're unsure if he meant to scold you, but König sounds far too wrecked for it to land the way he intends. He rocks his fingers up inside of you suddenly, instantly finding your G-spot and working it ruthlessly. "Alway distracting me, making me lose my min..."

His words are drowning out as your heartbeat thuds against your sternum and in your ears, something sickly sweet and thick like molasses trickling through your veins as your orgasm begins to surge in your abdomen. 

The squelching, wet sounds of König's fingers working in and out of your tight cunt are deafeningly loud, though, audible enough that they reach your ears even over the thumping of your heart and heavy gasps of breath. "K- König-"

"Can you take it deep in your throat for me, Mein Perle?" He asks, sounding utterly wrecked and haggard. Your vision blurs, but you definitely see the lurch of his cock in his khaki cargo trousers. "Please- Please, just for me-"

He doesn't need to ask you twice; his begging is interrupted by a filthy groan of your name when you easily take the barrel further down your throat to the point your upper lip could almost brush his thumb on the hammer of the gun.

"Hahhh, fuck!" König spits, watching tears well in your eyes at the stretch in your throat and cunt. He gently pulls the gun from your mouth, careful not to hurt you but knocking your teeth thanks to his trembling hand. "I'm making you cum, and then you'll do that to me, Shatz. Filthy girl-"

The moment the gun leaves your lips, König's fingers arch against your g-spot and his thumb circles your clit simultaneously. It's devastating, and you're barely able to hold yourself up as the ecstasy bursts through you brightly. It's as though a grenade has gone off, but it keeps building and building- 

" König-... KönigKönigKo-ooh-" You squeak his name, his brutal, sniper precision knocking the oxygen from your lungs as your tears drip down your face. "I'm cummmmugh-!"

It’s like static in your ears and across your skin when it burns through you. It crackles across your nerve endings, arcs up your spine until you’re leaning back against it, arching your back as if attempting to escape the intensity of the ecstasy he draws from you. You want to scream his name, begging him to stop, to carry on, but the words drown among the wails and whines of bliss. 

It feels like it goes on forever, your body suspended in euphoria and caged, grounded, only by König’s thighs. 

When your vision straightens, your chest heaving violently, König's hands delicately push your hair from your face. He's careful with you in these moments, the vulnerable aftermath where your mind is drunk on hormones and your body is in shock from the extremity of your orgasm. There's no rush for your recovery; your lover lets you take all the time you need. 

It's only when you manage to straighten yourself somewhat, shaky hands resting on his knees in a wordless show of readiness, that König nods his head. 

"That's it, Schatzi," he whispers to you, holding his breath as he waits his turn anxiously. 

Your mouth waters at the ruddy colour of his thick, veiny dick, and you lean forward to take the head into your mouth in a repeat of your actions earlier. König's hips jolt forward, grasping the arms of the chair with a white-knuckle grip at the vibrations that rock down his shaft when you hum around him. 

"Oh- Oh fuck-!" He chokes out when you gently graze your teeth over the sensitive, velvety head, just as you did the gun barrel. You see König's eyes roll back, and one of his eyebrows arches as the sensation takes over. He's twitching in your mouth already, salty precum dribbling down the arch of his cock and spilling onto your tongue. 

You take your tantalising time, kissing at the head of his dick once more before slowwwly easing him into your wet, hot mouth. König's gasps of bliss are pathetic, the imposing man reduced to a clammy mess of whimpers and keens of your name. It's so simple to work him up, the simple act of your palms smoothing across his thighs enough to get his cock jumping against your tongue. 

The warmth of your mouth around König's dick is too much for him, his head lolling back in the chair. You see him squeeze his eyes shut, bracing against the heaving of his chest and the slight rocks of his hips into your mouth. 

Your hand finds his balls, gently trailing your nails over them, and König's hips suddenly jolt upwards. He slips deep, tip knocking the back of your throat and catching you off guard in a gag. 

Pulling back, you squeeze his knees tight and take a deep breath. 

"Oh fuck- I'm sorry, I'm so sorry-" he apologises fervently, lifting his head like he's got weights tied to it, and it's far too heavy. He can't seem to hold it up straight, and it instantly falls back again with a spluttered wail when you shush him, wrapping your mouth around his cock and tracing his slit to taste his precum. 

He's close already; you can tell by the way his dominant energy dissipates and his balls draw up tight. He’s completely forgotten the act he’d been putting on, his revolver discarded on the beside you and desperate pines of your name falling from his lips.

"Scheiße," he gasps, the wooden arms of the chair creaking beneath the pressure of his grip. "Ah, Sch- shhhh-"

Anticipating his orgasm, you sink heavily onto him, taking as much of his impossible length into your throat as possible. König's hands fly from the chair, grasping the hair on the crown of your head and holding you on his cock like he's terrified you'll withdraw. 

“Ahah- Ah- Mein Perl- fuck!”

He cums with a lurch of his dick, a pathetic, trembling whine spilling from his lips as you swallow it down, the walls of your throat tightening around him. Ragged gasps of breath reach your ears, and your clit burns with the need for attention yet again as you continue to milk König. There's so much of him-

Suddenly, he's using his grip on your hair to pull you off, and he slips from your lips with a wet, audible pop. You look up at his languid body sprawled in the chair, wiping his wetness from your chin. 

"Hah, Schatz…” he watches you, eyelids heavy with exhaustion, "You are too good to me."

You shake your head gently, still sitting on your knees as you rest your head in his lap. They're aching after holding your weight for so long on such a hard floor, but you'll gladly take the bruises as a medal for your hard, valiant work. 

His hands immediately find your hair with a much softer, kinder touch, brushing through the threads and skirting his fingertips over your scalp. "No. I just want to show my appreciation for my heroic soldier, remember?" 

A soft, tired chuckle shakes his body, and you can't help the smile that splits your lips as a response. "Ah, of course. I remember. 'Not like others in uniform'."

"You're not," you insist gently, closing your eyes as he brushes his battle-calloused knuckles across your cheekbone, "None of them make the uniform look so sexy."

"Ah-hah! I knew it was the uniform!"

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[bby-deerling]

grand theft autumn (law x reader)

🎶 eustass doesn't know that law and reader do it on the tang and eustass doesn't know 🎶

18+, nsfw, mdni, wc: 1.5k masterlist

cw: afab!reader (no pronouns specified), cheating, choking, manhandling, he pins you to the bed, rough sex, a little manipulation, evil sex with law

tagging: @freelemmingsdownload @eelnoise @themushroomofdeath @mandiemegatron

Kid’s first mistake was leaving you behind at the docks, informing you that he would rather attend the festival accompanied by Killer for some “bro time”; his second was being too conceited and self-assured to notice the way Trafalgar Law was eyeing you up like a piece of prey to toy with before devouring it whole.

He was sneaky and wily as he seduced you, chipping away at you with cocky smirks, little touches, and snide remarks about just how inattentive your partner is.  Though you knew what he was doing, his actions were meticulously planned to carry an air of plausible deniability, and designed in a way to make you come to him; as he excused himself to return to the Polar Tang, the look he shot you implored you to follow, sticking to his shadow like a lost duckling.  Swallowing hard as you entered the submarine, you thanked every heavenly body above that none of your crewmates had been around to witness the way you shamelessly gave in to his flirtations, betraying your captain; in truth, your needs had been neglected by your partner for so long that it was easy work, especially when your suitor carried an air of danger and edge that thrilled you and sent nervous shivers running through your spine.  Sneaking through the hallways of the submarine with him made guilt sting at you, causing you to hesitate for a brief moment as you crossed the threshold into Law’s dark, murky bedroom; however, any pain was swiftly quenched by unfathomable desire upon seeing the intense, wanting look in his eyes.

And now, you were far past the point of no return, your shirt off and pinned beneath Law, one hand grasped tight around your wrist while the other dragged a thumb across your bottom lip; a storm brews in your mind—this is wrong, treacherous, dangerous, and filthy—but not a thing in the world could convince you to part from his touch.  Illuminated only by the dim nightlight in the corner of the room, the rods in your eyes do the hard work of deciphering the lust-filled glare he gives you as his lips dive down towards the column of your neck.

He's serious—deathly serious—as he slowly and carefully pries you apart, almost as if you were a body on his operating table.  The languid, seductive kisses he gives you are all teeth and tongue; he’s a biter, and it’s almost as if he wants to get caught as he toes the line between lightly nipping you and leaving marks along your neck.  His foresight is a far cry from your usual encounters with Kid, which were often quick, haphazard, and unplanned.  Never one to shy away from manhandling you, Kid often tossed you around to suit his whims, usually accompanied with teasing remarks; Law’s touch was similarly dominant, but it was darker, more intense, and lit a fire deep in your soul as he wordlessly commanded you to comply with his desires—it was so different from what you were used to, and it ignited a sense of deep craving and yearning in your core. 

His head dips lower to pay attention to your chest, tongue running across bare flesh, hands never leaving your wrist and throat.  A slight twitch in your movements spurs him to press you further into the mattress with more force, making a soft mewl escape your throat.  Back arching, you can’t help but writhe against the thigh pressed between your legs as his tongue rolls along your nipple; he’s barely done anything but kiss you, yet you’re so completely unraveled for him, succumbing so effortlessly to his brazen manipulations without a bit of resistance.

Hovering over you, he latches his mouth onto yours again, swirling his tongue against yours, taking breaks to suck on your bottom lip so hard you can feel the indentations of his teeth in the soft, tender flesh of your mouth.  Each muffled moan and sinful sound that escapes your throat prompts him to tighten his grip around your throat, leaving you dizzy and disoriented as your mind buzzes with pleasure.  Before the constriction can become too much, he flips you over, hand on your back keeping you in place as he hastily removes your remaining articles of clothing.  Tattooed hands pulling your hips upward causes you let out a small squeak in surprise, making him exhale hard in amusement.

“So soaked for me… cute.” he teases, running a finger through your folds.  There is no warning as he sinks his inked digit into you and slowly pumps it in and out; though your face is buried in his pillow, eyes screwed shut and unable to see anything but the insides of your eyelids, the mental image of Law’s tattoos disappearing inside you and being soaked by your juices is enough to make you unconsciously flutter around him.  Silently, you thank him for denying you the privilege of seeing it with your own eyes, because the ungodly sight may have prevented you from ever leaving the submarine and returning back to your own crew.

“I’m sending you back to him ruined—you’re never going to be able to be with him again without thinking about how much better I can fuck you.” he warns, teasing your clit by circling it with the head of his dick.  The warmth of his cock compared to his cold, icy fingers makes you gasp, causing a dark chuckle to escape his lips.  As his head drags across your entrance, he means to tease you with it, but desperate to feel him bury himself in your walls, you press your hips back into him, silently begging him to enter you.

“Someone’s eager…better enjoy this while it lasts.” he taunts, voice husky and low as he pushes into you.  Brutal in his methods, he gives you no time to adjust, gripping your hips tightly as he fucks into you, leaving your head spinning from pure shock.  The tip of his cock brushes your cervix with each thrust, leaving you whimpering and mewling into the pillow, but a hand pressing down on the middle of your back keeps you from writhing.

He's quiet—almost too quiet as his nails dig into the soft flesh of your hips; analytical in his approach to dismantle you from the inside you, he’s soaking in and responding to each twitch and sound you make and adjusting accordingly.  Fighting his urge to keep relentlessly giving it to you hard, he slows his strokes down and places one of his hands onto the back of your neck.  Smirking at the whine you let out, he lays on top of you, chest pressed against your back, and runs kisses along your collarbone; they’re sweet, tender, and soft, a harsh juxtaposition to the harsh thrusts of his cock as he unspools every ounce of sanity and morality you had once possessed.

Now you’re the one who is eerily silent; a lesser man would be fooled into thinking the coil in your core had unraveled, but the heat he feels radiating off your cheeks lets him know you’re unbearably close as his cock slides deep inside you, brushing along your sweet spot with each thrust.  Inked fingers slip underneath your face and stuff themselves inside your mouth; drooling messily around them as you suck on his digits, your mind begins to lose focus and drift into the void, a limbo between heaven and earth where nothing exists but pure bliss.

The sensation of teeth sinking into your shoulder sends you crashing over the edge.  “He doesn’t make you come like this, does he?” he murmurs in your ear as you clench around him, gasping for air as you choke on his fingers.  “Say it—” he whispers, withdrawing his fingers from your mouth, leaving a string of drool connecting them to your lips.  “—I want to hear you say it, or I’ll stop.” he warns, slowing down the speed of his strokes.

“No one can make me come like you can, Law…” you whimper, fingers curling and gripping the sheets hard so hard your knuckles turn white.

“That’s right.  No one’s ever gonna make you come like this again.” he growls in your ear, biting the shell possessively.  Reality sets in for you—Kid would never fuck you like Law; you’re going to spend the rest of your life chasing this high once he sends you back to the Victoria Punk in a matter of minutes.

You were going to have to face Kid again after being completely and entirely wrecked by Law’s cock.

But with the way he fucked you dumb, it didn’t matter—nothing matters anymore except the way Law’s cock feels as it caresses your insides, how his lips feel against your shoulders, and how his ragged breathing sounds ringing in your ears.

It’s fine, you convince yourself, becoming more delusional by the second as he maintains his brutal pace, hand wrapping around your throat.  It doesn’t matter, it feels too good.

Nobody can make you feel the way Law does; the sentiment is painfully evident and emphasized as he relentlessly continues to bully your spongy spot and draw another climax from you.  He was right, you were ruined, cursed to yearn for him from this point forward, a puppet on a string soon to be discarded.

The wire snaps.  You don’t care about the consequences anymore.

And besides, it’s not as if Kid has to know.

#one piece x reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x you #trafalgar law x you #trafalgar law x y/n #law x y/n #x reader #one piece smut #trafalgar law smut #one piece scenario #mdni #evil sex evil backshots with an evil man

[jqnehr]

dr ratio x fem!reader. it is currently 1:13am so that explains the very poor quality of this drabble. thank you and good night.

Dr Veritas Ratio is an idiot.

Of course, he would rather fling himself off the highest floor of The Reverie Hotel than sooner admit the truth. And it’s even worse when that bozo is the one to point it out.

“Never would’ve thought you had a romantic bone in your body,” Aventurine remarked, that same signature, permanently flirtatious tone of his grating on the Doctor’s frayed nerves even more. The blond man casually flipped a gold coin in the air over and over and over, shooting his companion a devilish smirk. “Seems like a certain young woman has finally proven that theory wrong, huh, doc? Shall I call you an ‘idiot in lo—’”

A stick of chalk smacked into the wall mere millimetres away from the sly merchant’s forehead beside him—and the sheer force of the throw was evident. If it had his its mark—which was right between Aventurine’s eyes—he would be a very dead man.

Aventurine coolly glanced at the cracked, utterly splintered hole in the wall beside him where the piece of chalk only just stuck out of, and then set his unruffled gaze on his friend, lips curled up into a wily smirk. “Thank you for proving my point, buddy.”

“Leave,” Vertias ordered, voice low, almost a growl. “I won’t miss next time.”

Aventurine rolled his eyes and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring up at the doctor on the other side of the room over the top of his expensive shades. “Oh, you’re an idiot in love, alright. What’s keeping you, the oh-so-handsome-and-brilliant star scholar of the Intelligensia Guild from sweeping her off her feet and whisking her away, off into the sunset? Scared of a little rejection?”

Veritas had another piece of chalk ready to throw at Aventurine in his hand, but it had long crumbled to white dust within his taut, knuckled hold, veins bulging up along his strong forearm. Aventurine regarded the physical, silent reaction with a lifted brow. Dr Ratio threw a murderous glare over his shoulder at the man on the couch, sitting there like he owned the damn place, and unclenched his jaw to say, “I will drag you by the hair out if you don’t leave yourself.”

Aventurine shrugged, hands up in a surrendering fashion, his eyes closed and mouth up into a languid, knowing, and mock-innocent smile. “You never liked admitting to things, Vertias, have you? I wonder what you would do if I happened to tell a particular young lady that the Doctor of Idiots eagerly awaited her presence so late at night…”

“You will do no such thing! I swear to the Aeons, Aventurine, if you pull any kind of trick or tactic around that woman, so help me, I will—”

“Beat me into a pulp with your book—yes, yes.” He feigned a long suffering sigh. “But, really, Veritas—what do you expect to happen when neither of you will make a move? I’ve no choice but to act as your wingman and hitch you both up by proxy. Isn’t that what friends do?”

Ratio muttered something unintelligible under his breath, but Aventurine caught something along the lines of “no fool who gambles his day away is a friend of mine” before the doctor dumped the crushed chalk into a bin beside the sofa he had jumped up from in a rage. “Get off my back about it. She’s way out of my league, anyway. I am much too eccentric, intelligent, extraordinary and handsome for such a dull woman as her.”

Aventurine was silenced, merely staring at the mauve-haired man before him with a look of utter repugnance, unable to believe his ears. Then he went back to flipping his coin. “Ah, yes, because women just love vain men who always patronise and snub them. Because men making women feel inferior is the standard, isn’t it, Veritas?”

“Oh—don’t give me that. You know I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Right, because calling the woman you obviously love ‘dull’ is the key to sweeping her off her feet.”

“Would it kill you to quit being sarcastic for once, Aventurine?” Veritas was getting quite ready to dump a pillar on him. “If you’re going to continue to be a bother, get out! As if you know what you’re talking about. You’ve never been in love! All you care about is money, and women are just tools to you!”

Aventurine opened his mouth to protest, but Veritas was on a roll—and when he got yapping, he really got yapping. “At least I don’t consider her as an asset to use and discard at will! For she is—despite all her clear and rather mortifying faults—is a woman of valour and poise! Her company is much more edifying than the one of a greedy man who never stops flipping a damn coin! I just cannot believe—”

“There you have it, Veritas.” Satisfied, Aventurine finally stood to his feet, shoving his hands into his pockets, making his way to the door, giving his friend a finger gun on his way by. “Congrats. You’ve finally admitted it out loud. Just wife her up already.”

The door clicked shut. Veritas was left alone. Left alone with the harrowing realisation that he does want to marry you, for you’re the only one he has discovered he can suffer—and who can bear with him—and that he’s deeply, madly in love, and that’s not something even his precious alabaster mask can hide.

I am done for. With a groan, Veritas flopped onto the couch and stared up at the ceiling, pondering Aventurine’s words despite his distaste.

And when he saw you again the next day, sipping away peacefully at a cup of coffee, he was suddenly quite happy to admit to it.

Doctor Vertias Ratio was, well and truly, an idiot in love.

i have recently caught up w hsr and let me TELL you. the CHOKEHOLD this man has had me in since day 1 😭 he won’t leave me ALONE so here we are.

and aventurine <3

#dr ratio x you #dr ratio x reader #dr ratio x y/n #dr ratio #hsr dr ratio #dr ratio hsr #veritas ratio #honkai star rail #dr ratio honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine honkai star rail #honkai star rail aventurine #star rail aventurine #aventurine hsr #i needed to get this off my chest dhmu #hsr drabbles #hsr

[flowersandbigteeth]

Big orc with a small mate who is just so small and fragile they just cry sometimes scared they'll hurt them

This is a little on the darker side, but I hope it is a bit of schadenfreude.

General Plot: You meet and befriend an orc who has a penchant for finding tall bridges.

Orc (Orion) x female reader

also, just a note, when I say "small" in this I'm saying as compared to an orc, not any particular body size or shape

Word Count: just under 3k

W: as brief as i could while still getting the message across descriptions of sa and suicide, otherwise sfw soft yandere behavior

“Damn,” Orion’s friend and coworker Joss whistled, peering across the shitty dive bar they were posted in, “don’t think I’ve seen a prettier sight in my life.” 

Orion’s eyes flickered from his drink to where Joss was looking, a table of women, your heads huddled together as you worked on your answers for the trivia game you were playing. 

“I got it!” you shouted at the guy running the game, “the answer is Oregon!” 

Orion gulped on his drink and it went down like a lump of lead in his stomach. You were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen in his life, your eyes glowing and your cheeks warm from smiling. The women around you were all beautiful in different ways, but his eyes focused on you and he couldn’t look away. You were so small. It almost made his eyes prickle as he considered how you could possibly survive in this world being so delicate. 

As a mercenary Orion knew the darkest dregs of the world. He’d seen pretty, innocent things like you broken and bloody in the snow when his team had arrived too late. It broke his heart every time and looking at you…something in him was moved. 

“Let’s buy the ladies some drinks,” Joss grinned, already turning to the bartender to organize a pitcher of margaritas for your table. 

You glanced up at the waiter as he carried an armful of drinks over to you and your friends. You’d never done trivia before and you didn’t go to bars, but they’d convinced you to get out of the house for once and join them. So far it had been fun, though as the waiter spread the drinks out in front of you and your friends you frowned.

“No thanks,” you said politely, pushing the glass back across the table when he got to you, “don’t drink.” 

The waiter smiled, scooping up the cup before gesturing to the two orcs sitting at the bar. 

“Compliments of the gentlemen,” he explained and the rest of your friends raised their drinks and smiled at the handsome orcs. 

They were obviously military of some kind. You could tell not because they were dressed in fatigues, but because the hair that was traditionally worn longs for orcs was instead cropped close to their heads. 

The larger one seemed to be looking at you and you held up your soda and tipped it at him with a friendly smile, before turning your attention back to the game. For some reason you didn’t want him to think you didn’t appreciate his attempt at a gift, but this was why you didn’t go to bars. Everyone was trying to ply everyone else into sex with alcohol. It just wasn’t your scene anymore. You didn’t do hookups and you didn’t drink, so…what was the point? Trivia, was your best friend's answer. 

“I’ve got the brunette with the curls,” Joss said to Orion as he smirked at your table. 

Your friends were eating up the orcs' attention, casting them wily smiles and flipping their hair. You didn’t blame them. They were good looking, with large, shining tusks and bodies any human body builder would kill for. The larger one had an arm full of tattoos peeking out from the tight black shirt he was wearing. 

For your part, you huddled down into the hoodie you were wearing and took a sip of your soda. It wasn’t like the orcs were flirting with you anyway. They were probably looking at Emily, who had long blonde hair, or Tina, who had dark flawless skin and tight, shining curls.

You didn’t notice Orion’s gaze focusing solely on you. 

“She doesn’t like margaritas?” he asked the bartender, nervously, when he returned with your empty glass. 

“Doesn’t drink,” he murmured, already moving on to his next customer. 

That comforted him a little. At least you weren’t going to be wandering drunk through the streets on your way home, but the idea of you walking home all by yourself bit at him. Orion was feeling things he’d never felt before and he didn’t even know your name. 

He was a mercenary. He wasn’t a kind, warm orc; never had been. He was good at killing. Very, very good at killing and that’s what his life consisted of, death, blood, and lonely cold nights camping out waiting for orders. 

He had his fun with girls he ran into in the odd cities he found himself in. They had a way of finding military men with money, but he’d never had a girlfriend or any sort of real connection. He’d never expected to live long enough for it to matter…but there you were. You weren’t all made up like the other girls, dressed in a bulky hoodie that swallowed you, with your hair brushed away from your face. Yet, you were the most beautiful one sitting there, chewing your lip and wrinkling your brow as you tried to think up answers. 

“Come on,” Joss said to him, throwing back the rest of his beer, “I think the game is ending.” 

The winners were announced (not your team) and you were trying to figure out how to slide past your drunk friends to escape home when the orcs approached your table. 

“Evening ladies,” the shorter one said, flexing his biceps as he scraped his thick fingertips through his short hair to the delight of your friends. 

“Excuse me,” you murmured, wiggling past your starry eyed friends and almost completely ignoring the orcs. 

You bid them all goodnight, but they are busy batting their eyelashes and circling their fingers around the mouths of their glasses. Best leave them to it, you thought as you made your way to the front door, not noticing the taller orc abandoning his friend to follow you out.

Orion didn’t have a plan. He’d never stalked a woman before, but there he was, using his combat skills to make his huge form disappear in the urban environment.  

He got more and more uneasy as you left the nice part of town and turned on to a dark street. A siren blared, startling him for a second as a cop car flew past and he almost lost track of you before he caught sight of you again fidgeting with the loop of keys in your hand and stuffing one into the door of the first floor apartment you lived in. 

Orion frowned, sneaking as quietly as he could up to your side window. Your home was incredibly insecure, he noted. With his strength he could easily pop the rusted bars over your windows out to get to you and your door was a laughable piece of plywood. 

His eyes watered again imagining your pretty face twisted in fear from some unknown attacker. He had to stop for a moment to take a breath and gather himself. Feelings he’d never felt before were bubbling up in his stomach like a witch’s cauldron, but standing outside of your house like a creeper, he had no idea how to approach you. 

He ended up keeping vigil outside of your house all night and woke from a shallow doze when you started moving around inside. Peeking through your window he could see you smoothing your hair dressed only in your panties and a little t-shirt that rode up on your waist. Compared to him, you were just so incredibly small! It still confounded him that you could survive in this awful neighborhood and not be harassed daily. 

Since it was the weekend and you weren’t hung over like your friends, you went about your morning routine and donned your usual hoodie to hit up your favorite coffee shop. An iced latte was the perfect way to start a Saturday. 

In the light of day, Orion hung back as he followed you down the street, waiting a few moments before he entered the coffee shop after you. 

The shop was busy, but there was a loveseat open and after getting your latte you took a seat on one side to drink it. 

“Mind if I sit here?” Orion asked, after he’d gotten his own coffee. 

You smiled up at his looming figure and scooted a bit to the side so there was plenty of room for him. 

“You look familiar,” you mentioned, making light conversation as you sipped your drink. 

The orc gave you a small smile. 

“Name's Orion,” he said, pleased to have a reason to talk to you, “I think I saw you last night at the bar…you were with your friends…but you don’t drink…” 

You giggled. 

“Oh yeah, they dragged me out to that,” you said with a grin, “they think I’m a hopeless homebody because I don’t like to get drunk. I’m (Y/N).” 

He smiled back at you, taking in your pretty twinkling eyes and soft looking skin. He had to hold back his tears as he looked down at you, so little in the seat next to him and tucked cutely in your big hoodie. He wondered what you would look like dressed in his t-shirt and wondered how he could possibly hold you without hurting you with his big hands.  

“That’s not a bad quality to h-” he started to say, but was interrupted by a slightly nasally voice trying to get your attention. 

You winced as you looked up to find one of the last people you wanted to see and part of the reason you didn’t drink hanging over you. Dane, a man you’d met once at a bar was holding a coffee with his other hand stuck in his pocket. 

“(Y/N)!” he said grinning, “Great to see you! I’m surprised I didn’t hear from you after all the fun we had last time…did I put my number in your phone wrong or something?” 

He reached down to snatch your phone out of your hand, as if he were going to check it. 

You winced and shrank back. 

The reason you didn’t drink was the last time you went to a bar you might have had a bit too much and Dane offered to take you home. Though his idea of “take you home” meant assault you while you were too drunk to fight back and then leave you crying on your couch with a text in the morning that said, “had fun last night, can’t wait to do it again.” 

Of course, you hadn’t told anyone as you probably should have. You were too embarrassed and ashamed, so instead you tried to shake the experience away and swore to yourself you’d never drink again. 

To your surprise, however, before Dane could reach your phone, Orion’s hand intercepted his. He could see by looking at you, you were uncomfortable and though he couldn’t possibly have known what happened, he didn’t like the man. 

“Hi,” he said, scooping up Dane’s hand into a tight handshake, “I’m (Y/N)’s boyfriend Orion, I don’t think we’ve met before.” 

Dane sneered and looked Orion up and down. The look on his face said he didn’t take the orc seriously. 

“Boyfriend?” he laughed, “that must be new…(Y/N) and I had a good time just a couple of weeks ago, didn’t we?” 

He turned his attention to you, but your eyes were filling with tears, stressed and embarrassed that he would even say something like that after what he did. You would not describe it as “a good time.” Orion growled and squeezed Dane’s hand until the bones popped, wiping the smile from his face. 

“What the fuck are you doing?! You’re going to break my hand!” Dane howled, causing the whole restaurant to look at the scene he was causing. 

Fire flooded your cheeks and you tried to make an escape, pushing past Orion, but in another surprising move, he dropped Dane’s hand and put his arm around you. In any other circumstance, you would have been a little frightened, but at that moment a warm hug was just what you needed and you leaned into him without thinking. 

“Let’s get out of here, (Y/N),” he said, giving you a gentle smile, before giving Dane a pointed look, “this place is starting to smell like trash.” 

He hustled you out of the building and led you to a small park where there were some cozy benches tucked amongst the trees. Spaced out from your encounter, you let his strength lead you without a fuss. 

He sat you down and you just sat in silence for a few minutes coming back to your senses. Orion had seen enough victims of assault in his line of work to know what the look on your face meant, so he gave you a little space to collect yourself before speaking. 

“You don’t have to tell me what happened if you don’t want to…but I’m a good listener if you do,” he said quietly, brushing a loose hair out of your face. 

You looked so small and helpless in front of him and he focused all of his will into not scooping you up and carrying you off, keeping you locked up so tight no one could ever get to you again. He could snap you like a twig with just a flick of his wrist, no wonder some horrible man thought he could take advantage of you. 

Without meaning to you let out a sob and the whole story came spilling out. It took all of Orion’s mental fortitude not to respond with anger. That wasn’t what you needed right then. Instead, he pulled you into his arms, tucking your head under his chin and rubbed soothing circles on your back while you cried. 

Despite his fear of smooshing you, he managed to squeeze you just gently enough to reassure you without hurting you.

“This wasn’t your fault,” he said, realizing why you didn’t drink, “men can be disgusting. No one should take advantage of someone while they are intoxicated…it’s just sick.” 

After you’d had a good cry, you exchanged numbers and Orion walked you home promising you everything would be okay. Even though you weren’t sure you quite believed him, something about him felt safe so you let yourself feel comforted and spent the rest of the day resting in your pajamas trying to keep your mind off of it. 

That only worked for a day, because the next morning as you were flipping channels you saw a familiar face on the television. It was Orion. He was being interviewed by a news reporter. You hurriedly turned the volume up to hear what he was saying. 

“I saw him climbing the railing,” he said evenly into the microphone the reporter had shoved in his face, “but I was just too late…I couldn’t get to him in time to save him.” 

His face was oddly blank considering the warmth he’d shown you the previous day. The camera centered back on the reporter. 

“Depression has taken yet another victim here on the St. Anne’s bridge. It seems the security cameras on the bridge were not functioning when the event occurred, so there is no video record. Officials are promising to put more cameras and safety measures in place to stop tragedies like this from occurring. If you are experiencing thoughts of harming yourself please call the National Suicide Prevention Hotline. Simply dial 988. Dane Andrews will be remembered as a…” 

You muted the television and blinked as images of the man who assaulted you flashed on screen. Dane is dead. You didn’t want to celebrate someone’s death but for some reason it put you at ease. You’d never accidentally run into him again. He’d never have another opportunity to taunt you. You couldn’t erase what had happened but it felt like you’d gained some closure. You were so focused on that, you didn’t even consider that it was a bit odd Orion was the last person to have seen him before he jumped off of the bridge. 

You hurriedly pulled out your phone and texted him. 

I saw you on the news…want to come over? 

It was only a few minutes before he responded. 

Be there in ten. 

You quickly put on some proper pants and brewed a pot of coffee while you waited for him to knock on the door. When it finally came you found yourself smoothing your hair and glancing in the mirror before answering it. For some reason you wanted to look some kind of way when he saw you. 

You opened the door to the Orion you remembered, not the cold emotionless one on TV. He gave you a big smile and to your surprise he had a bouquet of peonies in his hands. 

“For you,” he said, holding them out to you. 

Despite the somber mood of the morning, you smiled back, letting him inside and hurrying to the kitchen to find a vase for the pretty pink flowers. 

“It’s crazy what happened to Dane,” you said as you poured him a cup of coffee, “I guess even people like him have their own inner demons.” 

“Mmm,” Orion said, noncommittally as he sat at your kitchen table and took a sip, “I hope you feel a bit safer…” 

His eyes followed you as you got a cup and poured yourself some coffee. Of course, he had no intention of telling you, Dane did not kill himself. He had thrown Dane off the bridge after making sure he regretted ever laying a finger on you. He knew just what to do to make it look like the damage had been caused by his body banging on the rocks under the bridge, not Orion’s fists. 

You sighed. 

“You know I feel a little bad for saying this, but I really do feel safer,” you admitted, your gaze meeting his gold irises. 

He smiled. 

“Good,” he said, “you deserve to feel safe. Nothing like that is ever going to happen to you again.” 

Sitting down next to him at the table you fiddled with the handle of your mug. 

“You can’t be sure of that,” you murmured into your coffee, “things happen all the time.” 

He pulled your chin up to look at him, cupping your cheek gently. He knew he would have to be gentle with you always and he looked forward to holding you even closer.  

“While I’m around they won’t happen to you,” he stated.

You had no idea why, but for some reason you believed him. Your cheeks flushed just a little and your heart fluttered. 

“D-do you plan on sticking around?” you asked quietly. 

“I don’t ever plan on leaving you,” he said and you swallowed thickly.  

If it were anyone else those words would have been frightening, but Orion had cast some kind of magic spell on you with his kindness and you only felt safe and seen. 

You raised your much smaller hand to place it on his larger one against your cheek and looked up at him. 

“I think I’d like that,” you said with a small smile. 

#monster x girl #orc x reader #monster x reader #x reader #yandere x reader #soft yandere #orc boyfriend #monster romance #monster fluff #male yandere #yandere fluff #yandere romance #monster boyfriend

[whiskersz]

heyy! I’d love to request something for Hazbin Hotel if there’s still space in your inbox! I would like a ficlet of Angel Dust x gn! reader in which he comes back to the hotel after an awful day with Val and just breaks down when he sees them. Then reader can take care of him, give him a hug and prepare a warm bath and comfy clothes for him because he must feel uncomfortable wearing his “work clothes” after such a bad day… I just want to hold him and wipe his smudged makeup off and tell him that everything will be okay 🫂🫂

obv feel free to ignore this if it doesn’t inspire you!

Hey there! This is...kinda long, hope that's okay!! (1k words or so) Also had a mildly irritating day today so writing this was therapeutic, even though I started this yesterday. Anyhow, hope you enjoy :3

Angel x Gn!Reader - Solace

First came the thunder, then the blaring sound of a car door being slammed close. It was a particularly gloomy evening in Hell, heavy drops of rain battered against the walls of the Hazbin Hotel, which seemed uncharacteristically quiet besides the occasional cheery tune sang by Niffty, who was still dealing with cleaning.

Your head shot up at the sound of the tires of the limousine screeching outside, and you quickly threw your phone aside as you guessed you would be dealing with more important matters tonight, seeing as your boyfriend Angel had returned later than usual.

That was never a good sign.

Picking up a random umbrella from the stand placed near the entrance of the Hotel, you swiftly opened the door after pressing the button on the little remote designed to unlock the gate outside.

The air was frigid, yet you still made your way towards Angel, who seemed to be trudging himself more than walking. As you shielded him from the rain, his baggy eyes met yours, and he immediately threw himself in your arms, wetting your clothes with the rain water he was soaked in.

“Shit, they didn’t even give you an umbrella?” you hissed, walking him inside; “What happened today Angel?”

You didn’t think he could’ve furrowed his eyebrows more. Tears prickled his eyes as he answered you;

“Let’s not...talk about it.”

The lack of pet names in his sentence and wiliness in his voice concerned you greatly. Even Husk refrained from offering him a drink, focusing on the glass he was rinsing instead.

Angel didn’t even bother saying hello to the rest of the residents of the Hotel, opting to stay by your side as you led him to his room. Once you finally closed the door and you could have a moment of privacy, he let a sob escape his mouth, and you immediately wrapped your arms around his figure.

Despite being taller than you he still hid his head in the crook of your neck, holding onto you for dear life as you gently drew circles on his back with one hand and massaged his scalp with the other. You could feel that his hair was a mess, wet and tangled, yet you still placed kisses on the top of his head and whispered sweet nothings in the hope that he’d calm down.

He tried letting himself fall onto his bed, but you steadied him;

“Baby,” you murmured, “you’re soaked. How about a bath first, hm?”

His clothes were also not the most appropriate for cuddling and resting, you noticed.

He gave you a weak nod and reluctantly separated his body from yours, letting you hold his hand and walk with him to his private bathroom.

You had done this before; your hand reached for the soft pink chair he had placed behind the door and dragged it near his bathtub, then for the various products Angel usually used when he took a bath or a shower. Shampoo and conditioner for his hair, his comb, body wash, his sponge and finally his fancy bathrobe. You neatly placed everything within arm’s reach and turned on the faucet, turning your gaze back to Angel.

“I think it’s only fair if I take care of you tonight. If you’re okay with it, of course?” you asked him with a soft smile. He returned it.

“Of course. It’s just...”

You didn’t fully get it at first, but then he gestured to his body with one set of his arms, holding himself with the other, and you finally got what he was trying to tell you.

“I told you so many times love. I’m not disgusted by you, I’m disgusted by...what he does to you.” Your mind dared wandering to Valentino, and you asked yourself what he could’ve done to your partner that night. You decided not to dwell on it for the time being.

Angel let out a sigh, starting to undress. You had seen each other’s bodies many times before, but you still turned around out of respect and focused on your nails until he was done and inside the bathtub, which had been filled with warm water in the meantime.

Your gaze fell on a little box placed on the edge of the tub; opening it, you fished out a spider web shaped bath bomb; in the corner of your eye you could see Angel’s expression brightening a little, and a smile naturally grew on your face.

“I think you deserve some fun.” You stated, plopping it into the water, which immediately started fizzing around it.

Angel relaxed, leaning his back against the wall behind him, and slid slightly deeper into the water as you sat down on the chair you had dragged nearby earlier. Silence temporarily filled the bathroom as you both observed the bath bomb shrink, tinting the water a bright pink with sparkles.

Soon afterwards you found yourself going through your usual bad day’s routine with Angel; gently wiping off the smeared makeup on his face, massaging the shampoo on his scalp – you were the only one allowed to touch his hair like this – and talking about your own day to him as he washed his body to distract him from the bad thoughts he got just from the sight of the rope burns on his wrists. You had to bite back a vexed insult directed at Valentino when your eyes fell on those.

You decided to prepare some comfortable clothes for him as he dried his hair; settling on a cute but comfortable pink sweatshirt and shorts of the same color, you neatly folded them on his bed and sat beside them, noticing that someone had dropped your phone off while you were busy bathing with Angel. Most likely Husk, you thought; you mindlessly scrolled on your socials until you heard the bathroom’s door open.

Angel emerged from it, fluffy hair held back from his forehead by a headband and his body kept warm by his bathrobe.

“Oh, you’re done. Here’s your clothes sweetheart,” you handed them to him, and he thanked you with a kiss. Your attention returned on your phone for a short while as he was dressing himself up.

You heard him sigh at some point though; you curiously looked up at him.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, worried.

“Would it be too much sugar...to ask for cuddles tonight?” he asked with an uncharacteristically shy smile.

Throwing your phone aside you shook your head, and opened your arms as an invitation. He swiftly took it and climbed into bed, positioning himself in your lap. Your arms draped across the small of his back and he breathed out contently, nuzzling his head against your shoulder.

You both listened to the rain outside incessantly falling down, and you softly leaned backwards until your back touched the mattress. As Angel’s breaths steadied and he began quietly snoring you looked down at him, your heart filled with warmth.

I’ve got you now, you thought, breathing in his scent; he can’t hurt you as long as you’re with me.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin x reader #x reader #angel dust x reader #angel dust #angel dust hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel angel dust

[takenbypeter]

Hey! Could you do a Wonka x fem! Reader where she is trying to get a party together for Willy (for his birthday or any big day you can think of) and stretch’s herself to thin causing her to get ill but is still running around like a headless chicken for him despite Willy telling her not to

(Basically frozen fever the more I think about it🤣🤣💛💛💛🤣🤣🤣)

Too Sick To Celebrate

Willy Wonka x reader

Words: 1253

You were fine. It was all fine. Everything was fine. 

Is what you told yourself as you felt a cold chill run down your body while you blew your nose into a tissue. 

You woke up that morning feeling nothing unusual excluding a few coughs here and there plus a scratchy throat. 

But by the time you’ve finished setting up decorations for the celebration that you’ve been planning, what was originally just a tiny cough and scratchy throat, turned into shivers and a runny nose. 

But nothing was going to ruin this day.

“Yes, that looks perfect right there,” you announced, having Piper and Abacus finish setting the last of the chairs. 

“He is going to be so thrilled,” you whispered, clapping your hands together in admiration of the way it all was coming together, that is until you let out a not-so-pretty sneeze.

“Ugh,” you groaned, wiping your nose with a tissue you had handy in your pocket. 

“That didn’t sound so good,” came a voice from beside, causing you to flinch at the unexpected comment. 

“Oh geez Lottie,” you breathed out, placing a hand on your chest to relax, “you frightened me.”

She shares an apologetic smile, “that happens. But you don’t sound too good. Is everything alright?”

You waved your hand motioning it was no big deal, “I’m fine, just a little cold but it’s fine, thank you.”

Lottie opened her mouth but was interrupted by another voice that came from behind.

“What’s going on here?” 

Smile tugging at your lips you turned around to face the young man. 

Willy Wonka. 

He was just about the most spectacular chocolatier you’ve ever met. With his skills, plus his passion and positivity, he’s managed to help you all in your escape from Mrs.Scrubbit and her wily contract. It was funny to think that only recently you were held captive by the old bat, and now, just a week later here you were celebrating a successful opening followed by a successful week of Wonka’s own shop. 

“What are you doing here? You’re ruining the surprise,” you directed towards the boy.

Now the party was no secret so he was aware of it all, but he also was aware that you specifically told him not to help, being that the party was essentially for him. But of course knowing Willy wasn’t one to sit back and let others do the work, you’ve planned ahead telling him the incorrect time that you all were starting, yet somehow here he was, still earlier than agreed. 

“Why are you here so early?” You questioned.

“Well, for one I knew you’d get here early, so I figured I’d come and help,” he glanced around at the practically finished decorations, “but I see I underestimated you.”

“That you did,” you said before another sneeze escaped your mouth. 

“Woah, that sounds bad.”

“It’s fine,” you guaranteed turning your back to Willy, but he circled around leaning his face inches from yours, “and your cheeks, they’re darker than usual,” he pointed out, but you just shook your head dismissing the thought, “it’s cold outside, that’s why.” 

You rotate away from him again, ignoring the shivers and the warm feeling that you were beginning to feel spread across your face, “I have to go get the cake!” You announced, allowing the others to hear, but Willy quickly placed himself in front of you. Pulling his scarf off he steadily wrapped it around your neck making sure it was nice and snug. 

“I’ll get the cake, you head inside.”

You rejected his offer without a single thought, “this party is for you Willy. I’m getting the cake,” and with that you marched off but Willy continued to follow close behind.

With big strides, you hurried to get to your destination while a cough did its best to fight its way out. 

“What’s the hurry?” He ran, catching up to your pace.

“There’s no hurry, I just want to get the…the…achoo! Cake,” you finished, managing to catch the sneeze in your arm.

Thinking back on it now, maybe having the party outside in this weather wasn’t the most ideal decision.

Despite his best efforts in suggesting your return back, you successfully pick up the dessert and begin your journey back. 

It was halfway through the trip back that you began to feel slightly dizzy. Shifting direction you reached out for a nearby bench, pausing to take a break. 

The chocolatier sat beside you with a concerned expression decorated on his face, “this won’t do. Let’s postpone the party, your health comes first.”

With your eyes lightly shut, you reply to the man, “we already prepared everything, if we cancel it now, everyone will just be disappointed. I’m alright, I just need a second.” After a moment of ease you propped yourself up, “onwards to the celebration!” You shout trying to lift the spirits. 

Wonka once again followed behind, worried for your health but knowing in your stubbornness to listen. 

Putting on your best face, you made it to the celebration. “Wait here,” you instructed, facing him away from the finished layout.

Once you’ve placed down the cake and everyone settled into position, you told him to turn around. 

“Surprise!” Shouted the collective group of voices as he spun around. And taking in the sight a grin from ear to ear spread along his face. Despite him seeing most of the decor before, he still managed to appear genuinely surprised. “This is spectacular!” 

“Well, we just wanted to show our appreciation for you Mr.Wonka,” said Abacus speaking on behalf of everyone.

“None of this could’ve happened without you all of course. Don’t just stand there, mingle, enjoy yourselves,” he ordered and no one hesitated to do so. 

Willy gazed around the small group, a smile still prominent on his face until he spotted you. 

You were propped on a chair a little ways away, blowing your nose into a tissue. His eyebrows lowered in thought with his lips pushed together and after a short whisper to Piper, he headed in your direction. 

“Come on, let's get you out of here.”

You shook your head, “but the party,” you breathed out.

“Your health is my main priority right now. If you stay out here in the cold it’ll only get worse.”

You pressed your own lips together, mirroring his expression from earlier.

“I already told Piper, she’s agreed to take care of the cleanup.” He extended a hand towards you and although hesitant you took hold, knowing he was truthfully, right. 

Despite your initial protests during the day, you were thankful to the man, not just for today but for all he’s done since you’ve met him. 

And you made sure to let him know.

“You are a wondrous man,” you stated as he covered you with a quilt, making sure to tuck the fabric in on both sides.

“It helps to have such wondrous people beside you.”

Once again, he refused to take his credit, yet another thing you admire about him. 

“I’m sorry I ruined today,” you whispered, eyes beginning to shut as the warmth from your own bed was starting to overtake. 

“Are you kidding? Today was splendid.”

“Your words are too kind.”

“Kind people are deserving of kind words.”

You smiled weakly, unable to banter back. 

With a few gentle pats on your head Willy leaned back allowing you to rest. 

You didn’t know how but you were going to make it up to him. 

You were sure of that.

-

Accepting requests for Wonka just read my rules first plz 😉✨🍫

#willy wonka x reader #willy wonka fanfic #willy wonka fanfiction #willy wonka imagine #wonka x reader #wonka fanfiction #wonka fanfic #wonka imagine #Wonka 2023

[feistyfreaks]

IK ITS NOT EVEN OCTOBER ANYMORE BUT I HAVE A REQUEST…. I always read about shy readers and I have no issue with it but I would love some appreciation for the nice popular girls! Maybe a ghostface!miguel x Nice popular reader (female)

i tried my best making these two work with each other so .. i hope you enjoy 🥲.

LOCKED IN TEMPTATION.

≪ pairings ≫ ⋮ npg!reader x ghostface!miguel

₊❏❜ content ⋮ school lockdown, armed murderer, threatening, degradation, dark themes, sexual coercion - dubcon/cnc, oral (m receiving), throat bulge, katoptronophilia (mirror sex), unexpected orgasm/squirting, & unprotected sex.

taglist ⋮ @pewpunk @111gltzpzy @theloneshadow @gabriel1898 @mimisxs (divider by @cafekitsune ♡)

“wait for me!” your friend called out, making you turn around. “which class are you going to?” you ask chloe, stopping in your tracks. “ugh, to biology.” she groans in response, her voice itching with annoyance. “why are heels such a pain in the ass.” she complains.

“maybe you shouldn’t have worn them to begin with.” cory suggests with a corny smile. “it’s not my fault i wanna look pretty.” chloe whines.

you all take a turn, “hey do you guys wanna use the bathroom?” you intervene.

“yeah, sure, i could really use the break.” chloe replies, sighing. you take another turn down, this time heading down the hallway towards the bathroom.

your girl group follows you in. beatrix leaned over the counter, applying lipstick. “hey did you guys hear the news?” cory blurts out, adjusting her glasses with a shocked look on her face.

“hey girl!” beatrix smiles as you two do your special handshake. “no why?” you reply, smiling, turning your attention to the girl with all your books in her hand. “supposedly there’s this new serial killer in town and he disguises himself with a ghost face mask.” cory says.

“a serial killer?” chloe scoffs, hopping onto the counter, now invested.

“yeah.”

“sounds scary,” beatrix adds, “do you have your mascara i could borrow? mines dry as fuck.”

“yeah, sure.” you grin, handing her your mascara. “thanks you’re the best.”

“so what’s his body count?” chloe asks with a wily smile. cory glances at you and beatrix, and back at chloe. “as in..?” beatrix raises a brow with a smirk on her face. “you guys are so dirty minded.” chloe bursts out laughing, “i meant in kill count, duh.”

“then you should’ve specified.” cory says as you all giggle in unison. suddenly her expression changes, glancing back at the phone and her jaw drops.

“well he’s made himself known.. surprised he hasn’t broken a record yet, the reports of deaths this month averages around two fifty.”

you all exchange looks.

“yikes.”

“well that doesn’t sound too good.” you mutter, scratching the back of your head.

“here.” beatrix hums, handing you back your mascara wand as you smile.

“welp, glad i’m not one of his victims.” chloe exhales. “guys we better hurry up or else we’ll be late.” beatrix adds as chloe plops off the counter, heading her way out the bathroom.

“see you last period.” she waves.

“i’ll get going too.” beatrix winks at you, following behind the blonde.

cory stays with you while you fix up your makeup and finish putting on your mascara. “have you got a message to be on watch of any suspicious activity?” cory looks at you, “i mean. maybe an amber alert, that’s all. but that’s probably irrelevant to the situation.”

the bell rung and you two stare at each other in disbelief. “my moms gonna think i’m skipping.” cory whines, face palming herself. “third time this week.”

but before the both of you could run out the door, the sound of a phone being picked up was heard.

and an announcement was made.

“students and staff we are now undergoing a lockdown, this is not a drill. please lock your doors, cover the windows and escort students back to class if needed. i repeat this is not a drill.”

“oh shit!” cory screams, dropping your books on the floor as your heart drops.

“what do we do?! we’re gonna get in so much trouble!” her eyes widen, hands clasping around her head as she pulls on her red locks.

“fuck, fuck fuck!” without thinking she pushes you into a stall, locking the door as the both of you prep yourselves onto the toilet seat.

“we’re gonna die, we’re gonna die!” cory murmured, grabbing your hand. “no we’re not!” you protest quietly, trying to calm her down.

“i’ll never see my mom again!” your friend babbled. you squeezed cory’s hand. “we’ll make it out alive together, i promise.”

you shouldn’t really be promising at times like this, but you had to get her to shut up somehow. you two heard the sound of footsteps running all over the place until it became silent.

those six minutes felt like six months.

you slowly lowered your foot, thinking coast was clear — just then you heard the bathrooms door creak open. you quickly swooped yourself off the floor.

that’s when you realized.

idiots.

you two hadn’t locked the bathrooms entrance.

you covered cory’s mouth as you put a finger on your lips; signaling her to stay quiet. heavy footsteps echoed throughout the bathrooms tiled floor and stopped in front of the dropped books that was scattered in different directions. you threw a hand over your mouth, watching her lips quiver.

someone shoved all the stalls opened until yours was the last one that remained.

you glanced down, their feet was the only thing that was visible in the small opening under the door. her grasp on your hand tightened. the two of you held your breaths.

you tried to steady your inconsistent breaths, squeezing your eyes shut. cory was surprisingly staying quiet for the most part. the seconds ticked and it felt like hours that the intruder stood there.

until they finally stepped back.

their footsteps were then heard from afar as you supposed they were leaving. the door creaked open again and just before you could sigh out in relief, cory’s foot got caught in the toilets sensor and the loud sound of the toilet flushing made the two of you gasp.

the footsteps stopped, and the two of you looked at each other dumbfounded.

“i know you’re in there.” a deep voice broke the silenced room. cory stared at you, looking for instructions.. possibly anything from your face that hinted what to do. but you didn’t give any.

you looked just as pale as she did.

“fine then. i’ll count to five, and if you don’t step out, i’ll make you come out.”

“one.”

cory gulped.

“two.”

she eyed you, shaking her head in disapproval when you reached to unlock the door.

“three.”

you stepped down slowly, your feet visible to the man behind the door.

“four.”

you gathered all your courage, slowly squeaking the door open.

“five.”

you looked up at him, your fists curled into a ball as your nails engraved into your palms.

“two?” he chuckled, stepping forward as you defensively stood in front of your friend.

you tried to appear intimidating, but of course you made yourself look like a fool, and instead he was the one that looked intimidating.

cory clung onto your arm, sniffling into the crook of your neck. your heart beat quickened, trying your best to keep up the brave act.

“how pathetic.” he laughed, “you’re not even armed. you don’t scare me little girl.”

he stepped closer and defensively, and without thinking, you kicked his shin. hard.

“run!”

he hissed, but before you two could make a run for it, he tugged on cory’s arm, pulling her backwards. you grasped onto her tightly, tugging her forward with all your strength. he pulled her towards him, and with a harsh yank your sweaty palms let go.

“you’ll pay for that.” he scoffed, head locking cory and aiming the knife towards her pulse point. “so who’s it gonna be?”

“you, or her?”

you glance at your friend who looks like she’s on the urge of fainting, her glasses are practically slipping off the bridge of her nose and her eyes were just as wet as an opened faucet running. you couldn’t stand watching her get hurt in front of you.

“don’t hurt her!” you beg out in defeat.

“let her go!”

“what’s the magic word?”

“p-please..? i-i’ll do anything!”

he lets her go and cory stumbles back, her glasses shattering. she weeped and with her blurry eyesight she ran out of the bathroom, almost tripping on her tangled feet.

“what a selfish bitch.” he laughs, “look at her go, four eyed freak can win a marathon.” he chuckles, practically wheezing.

you felt embarrassed, humiliated, a fool, stupid even.

tears formed in your eyes as he cornered you into the wall. “friends’ll backstab you so easily, how ironic.” he hums, his knuckles caressing your pale cheek sweetly.

that’s when your heart sinks, this was the guy from the news. ghost face mask. check. scary looking. check, and probably does have a kill count around two fifty. you mean. look at em.

you gulp, batting your wet eyelashes at him. “aww, don’t give me that look.” he coos, trailing the knife along the length of your neck. “you look like you need a hug.” he teases, almost feeling sorry for you. he leans into you, “i won’t hurt you.. not unless.. you give me what i want.” he whispers.

you sniffle, your knees felt like jello from how much they trembled. “a-and what is that?” you ask, voice ever so quiet. “hmnnn.” he hums. his thumb gently presses onto your bottom lip, pushing harder until his pad was rubbing onto the wet muscle of your tongue.

a raspy groan escaped his throat, “i want sex.” your pupils dilate as a rush of heat makes its way down your spine. “s-sex?” you repeat dumbly, almost gagging as he presses further on the flat of your tongue.

“you heard me, get down on your knees f’me.” he smirks underneath his mask. before you could even react his hand pushes your head down as you drop down to your knees submissively.

you felt weak, and powerless.

“that’s it. that’s a good girl.” he praised, his bulge threatened to escape its cage. huge, hard and curved into his slacks. he grabbed the back of your head, practically shoving his groin onto your face.

“go on. unbuckle my belt.” he demanded. you tugged on the leather feeling excitement pool into your panties. you zipped down his pants and his cock jumped out eagerly. he groaned, his dick thick and veiny, and tip raging red as beads of his pre dribbled down his long shaft. he grabbed his cock with his other hand, smacking the girth onto your cheek and smearing the pre onto your plump lip.

“open.” he ordered.

you looked up at him, those pretty eyes dripping with tears. you opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue to give his head kitten licks.

he found your lapping’s cute, you didn’t even know what you were doing. you lick the vein underneath his cock before sucking on the tip like a lollipop. imitating the women in the pornos you’d rub off to.

he slapped the shaft on your tongue before slipping into your mouth smoothly. he groaned at the sight of an inexperienced girl try n take his whole engorged cock into the small of her mouth. he shifted, placing his hands on your head, securing you in place. you moaned at the sudden action.

"like that, huh? like it rough? I'll show you rough." without a heads up, he thrusts deeper into your mouth; moaning at the sensation of your tongue. you gagged at the large object forcefully making its way down your throat.

"fuck, your mouth feels good."

you didn't know why, but hearing this man talk down on you only served to arouse you. your panties were soaked, and that familiar sensation of needing to pee aroused in you. your teeth scraped against the sensitive skin of his cock and the grip on your hair he had on you tightened, thrusting in deeper and fucking your mouth more aggressively.

he thrusted his entire length into your mouth, tip to base and began to grind down on your face. he looked down, his huge girth had created a bulge in your throat and his pre had spilled out and trickled down your chin. the sight, the lewd squelching sounds, and the stimulation was just enough to make him lose it. he came in your mouth deep, his seed coating your throat white as you gag.

he pushed your head until the tip of your nose brushed against his pelvis, he made sure you swallowed every last bit of his cum. he yanked you off his cock, moaning. you panted, gagging as you try to gather yourself from the previous blowjob session you just performed.

his hand brushed through your hair and tugged your head upwards. your abdomen was pressed against the counters cold surface, and your school girl uniform was pulled up; the wet patch between your puffy slit was now exposed.

you bit your lip, feeling the same pad prod at your swollen clit. “you like being used don’t you?” he smirks, pulling your panties to the side as his fingers slide through your slit. “look at you, you’re dripping wet.” his voice is filled with amusement and dominance that wants to humiliate you.

his fingers dip into your hole and you twitch, becoming sensitive from his touch. you balance onto the tip of your toes and a squeal makes its way out of your mouth. your knees buckle; your clit throbbing onto the pad of his finger as you spatter on him. a throaty groan rumbles into you ear, your juices drip down his fingers as he slowly finger fucks you through your high, completely drenching him with your orgasm.

“fuck baby, i’ve barely touched you and this pussy is already so eager.”

his fingers slip out of you, and you shook slightly, a shaky breath escaping your mouth. you writhe, legs betraying your instincts. you feel an arm wrap around waist securely. with his other hand he grabbed your face, making you look at yourself in the reflection.

“mmyou’ll let me stretch this pussy out, right?” he hums, lining up the head of his cock with your tiny hole. “t-that’s not the agreement we made.”

“the agreement was to do what i want, i never specified darling.”

“fuck you.” you hiss, gritting your teeth.

“that’s not very nice nena. apologize.” his voice deepens, coaxing you into apologizing to him because he didn’t like the fact you were disobeying his orders and talking back. but he’s nice enough to spare you another chance. he tugs your hair back roughly, “it’s not so hard to say sorry now is it?”

you glance at the ginormous figure behind you, “a-and why should i apologize?”

“fine then, you ungrateful brat.” he growls, bending you over and pushing the tip further into you, your jaw hung open and whimpers flow out of your mouth.

fuck you felt full. but it felt so good to be treated like such a whore.

in fact.. it turned you on.

stinging tears brim at your lash line; the pain tingled with pleasure. his fingers trail down your body and latch onto your hips, grinding you back onto his cock. you groan, pussy throbbing with every rock as his tip stimulates your cervix. “yea, feels good right?” he murmurs into you ear. thick girth feels like he’s stretching you out to the ends of earth.

but you love it.

he groaned curses into your ear and leaned forward, chest pressing onto your back making you bend over further more onto the counter top as he adjusts his position, fucking into you with deeper thrusts.

his hands kneaded with the plush flesh on your hips n thighs, finger pads trailing upwards to trace your spine before gripping onto your locks and pulling your head back up again, forcing you to stare at yourself in the mirror.

his hand came down to knead with your sensitive bud as the tip repetitively abused your cervix, your eyelashes fluttered. tears running down your cheeks and mouth agape from the ecstasy. your pretty lashes coated with mascara you spent your precious time on fixing was now running down your face.

“mírate siendo una puta.” he chuckled, hips fastening and with each thrust your ass recoiled onto his lap.

from your few spanish lessons you took, you partially understood what he meant and your cheeks grew red. “yea, keep squeezing down on me like that—” he drew in another shaky breath, “you're going to make me cum again.”

your toes curled, eyes rolling back, white ring stamping his dicks girth. with a harmonized groan he pulled out, wrapping his hand around his shaft and finishing jerking himself off as his head spewed out his climax onto your sopping cunt. he tapped the leaky head against your hole.

his hands gently held your stammering hips. he reaches to grab a few paper towels and cleans you up; respectfully pulling your skirt back down as he pats your head reassuringly. sliding the thin cloth of your panties back in place.

“hope you don’t mind not being able to walk for a few days.” he chuckles incoherently.

#ff⋆reqs 🧁 #ff⋆inbox 📬 #feistyfreaks #hornyhour #miguel o’hara smut #into the spider verse #across the spiderverse #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #no nut november #kinktober

[mmkin]

Shameless Wily simping fun... also, the next chapter of Forever Clockwork is done faster than I anticipated, so here's the link on AO3, the chapter is also included under the cut.

Content warning - None (some flirting, but teen safe/SFW)

(Yes, these are the scrubs described in the fic, my first time ever drawing scrubs. I obviously need more practice, but it was still a hoot to draw)

III

o0o0o0o

(Wily’s POV)

Wily glanced down at the tablet, occasionally tapping the screen as he looked at the design and schematics of the robot that was on the table before him.

Robots these days were designed with fail-safes or automatic shutdowns that were triggered by certain behaviors. For example, a maid-bot might not be able to go more than a designated amount of meters from a house before it receives a warning signal, and if it ignores said warning, it would power down automatically.

Another feature that was typical for a robot was a GPS, in case the robot was stolen. Robots could also be shut down with voice, wireless, or radio commands. Robots, especially ones programmed with AI, were pricey investments, and thus needed safeguards so that humans could protect their property.

The GPS had already been disabled by Shademan before the robot was taken out of the amusement park it had been built for. However, the brightly-colored robot remained inactive, having powered down shortly after it went beyond the borders of the park. Not surprising, really, and the mad scientist was prepared for that.

He set the tablet down and leaned over the robot, lifting the panel off its back with little effort. A network of complex circuitry met his eyes, but it did not intimidate him the least as he examined it, making mental notes about what to upgrade or change.

That was one thing he'd always found fascinating about technology. It was ever-changing and improving, and he could learn and benefit from it. With each line, his robots became better and stronger, and with everything he learned, he could go back and upgrade some of his older Numbers to increase their efficiency or power., or in this case, take other people's robots and give them his modifications. Any robot could be improved on. Unfortunately, the same could be said about Megaman, but eh. Dr. Light and the blue robot were pushed out of his mind as he focused on his current task.

Wily lifted the helmet off the robot, revealing the circuitry located within its head. With deft hand movements that spoke of long experience in this particular process, the doctor hooked up wires to certain parts of the circuitry that made up the robot's mind and personality. This was a precaution he took every time he significantly modified or upgraded a Robot Master. Once the memory was backed up in his computer, he got to work, removing the GPS, the power override, and other devices that this 'bot's creators had installed to impede its freedom.

It took a bit of time to figure out what sort of weapon to give the robot. However, looking at the long, flexible arms of this robot gave him the idea to use their unique qualities to this robot's advantage. He did these robots a great service by maximizing their potential. Too bad the world could not see that. Such was the lot of a mad genius...

o0o0o0o

A Decade Ago, 200X

The first series of Robot Masters was already well underway. DLWN-003 through 005 were just about done, and 006-008 were all more than halfway through. Albert was rather proud of himself, but then who wouldn't be? He and Thomas had come a long way since their university days, and so had technology. When the first AI robot had been created by the two of them, it was very limited in its capabilities and most people did not see the use or benefit of their work. But then, look at the first automobile or the first computer. If people had thrown up their arms and not wished to work more on these inventions, then who knows where the world would be today?

“To a job well done, Albert," Thomas said as he raised his mug of coffee. Albert grinned and raised his own before he glanced at the television screen. Their work had brought them much recognition, and soon, would bring them an award. They had already won several for their work in the field of robotics, but the Technology Award was almost basically the Noble Prize of Science.

The head of the council, a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair, rose from his seat. He had won last year's award and had also replaced the former leader of the council when he retired.

“As history shows, man has been very creative in his use of technology, and seeking ways to advance it. We are very fortunate to live in a new century, and not just that, but a new millennium. Man has been able to utilize technology in the last century that would have been unthinkable in the entire course of human history.”

“Get on with it," Albert muttered before he took another swig of his coffee. He had disliked Dr. Cooper upon meeting him, finding the other scientist to be a blowhard at times. To receive his award from this man... feh.

“This year's Technology Award goes to someone who is known as the father of robotics.” Father? Albert frowned at that as Dr. Cooper continued, "And without him, robotics would probably still belong in the realm of science fiction. I am pleased to announce that this year, Thomas Light is the winner of the Technology Award!"

Albert and his partner stared at the television for several moments, waiting for Dr. Cooper to realize his mistake, or for someone else to correct him on his omission. There was a round of polite applause from the other members before Dr. Cooper announced that he would fly to Light Labs and present Light with the award himself.

“What the...!” He rose to his feet, glaring at the screen, his knuckles white as his mug slightly shook.

“Albert, I am sure it was an honest mistake, I will explain it to him. You deserve that award as much as I do, and we both know it.” Thomas put his hand on his partner's arm to calm him.

o0o0o0o

Now

The mad scientist wiped his brow after he adjusted the tightness of the coils that he had added to the robot's flexible arms. When he took robots created by someone else, he preferred to keep the external design changes to a minimum and work with the robot instead of against it. It had taken him some time to decide how to optimally weaponize the clown-themed robot, but studying the arms had given him a sudden burst of inspiration.

He had retrofitted the insides of the arms with flexible Tesla coils, enabling the production of electricity and the ability to use it as a weapon. His work on DWN-060 was almost complete. The previously installed safeguards and controls that enabled this robot's original creators or owners to control him had all been removed. His memory had been uploaded to the new brain and installed within the head cavity.

He sat back on his stool, basking in the glow of a job well done. He still enjoyed building his robots and challenging himself with new designs, like he was doing now for DWN-057, but there was a perverse sort of pleasure in stealing the robots of others and giving them freedom and his enhancements. Now, only if it were as easy to enhance the human body... He grinned to himself dryly as he stretched, feeling his old bones creak a bit as he did so.

o0o0o0o

(You)

You set the weapon down, running your finger lightly along one of its planes and looking at the three green blades, having followed Wily's blueprint and putting the pieces together. It was easy to get lost in the work, and doubtless, that was partly from starting a new job and doing something that was a challenge.

But oh, how your back aches from being hunched over the project. So you back away from the table, stretching out your arms and legs as you pace the large room, where several other tables sit with various projects including a new Robot Master. You wander over to it, slowly circling it as you study his work. Most of it is assembled already, though a casual observer would see several pieces missing or incomplete.

It's over seven feet tall and near it is a red facepiece with a long, pointed nose. Much of one arm was missing, and you blink when you realize the weapon you'd just been working on was intended to be part of that arm. So now, apparently, officially you helped to build a Wily Number? You lean in, finding the number that identifies it as DWN-057.

Well, now you’re curious to see your work in action. You smirk to yourself and startle when you turn around and see Shadow Man. You wonder if he’s ever startled Wily the same way.

“Forgive me for startling you,” the ninja-bot says as he bows his head.

“No harm done. Is there a problem?” you ask.

“Nothing at all. How goes your task?”

“Almost done. I just needed to stretch out.”

“Father is almost done with his work, and he says you can stop and clean up. Dinner will be in half an hour.”

“Oh, cool. Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course. What is it?”

“I'm curious... you have free will, right? You're free to do as you want go where you please, unless I assume wrong.”

“No, you are correct.”

“You have your own... hobbies, interests, predilections? Did these come about on their own?”

“Yes. That is how it is for all of us. Father designs us with different tasks and occupations in mind, as you can see by our bodies, but as far as personalities go, we develop our own. Not all of us were created by him but are loyal to him.”

“Why do you serve Wily, then? You are a powerful robot and could do nearly anything you wanted.”

He looks at you curiously for a moment, thinking quietly for nearly a minute before speaking.

“Because we love him, and we believe in his cause. He wants to make robots equal to humans, not slaves. He wants to blur that line, the line between human and machine to the point where we can't be treated like objects. We have souls, we have feelings, others can't see that, can't hear it, or won't try to understand us.” he said quietly, his words baring a conviction more convincing than any human you’d heard in a long time.

“When I first met him, we talked about the possibility of robots having souls. This was right before the first line of Masters came out, mind you. Everyone around me, except for Albert and Thomas, of course, thought that a robot could never have a soul. People scoffed at the idea. But Mega Man came along and… A lot has happened since then.”

“That is true. We are loyal to him because he cares for us. If we get damaged, he takes the time to repair and upgrade us instead of discarding us. We are his sons, whether he built us himself or rescued us.”

It’s heartwarming to hear a robot speak so passionately, and you stare at him quietly. He takes your silence as skepticism and adds, “You can choose to believe me or not, but I am confident in the truth. Many condemn his actions, simply because they don't understand him or us. He stands against the world. And we stand with him.”

“I believe you,” you reply.

For lunch, there are deluxe sandwiches with a tasty ingredient you had almost forgotten the taste of. You haven’t had one of these since… Fuck, really, you ask yourself as you smell the tantalizing scent of the hot ingredients in the sandwich, finding yourself on a cruise down memory lane. Amazing what little details he remembers. You'd always figured he was much more focused on his work, like the stereotypical male who forgets the details while his partner is the one who remembers all the little things. But he'd remembered your favorite colors. And you two had talked about science fiction in the past, and he remembered the particular titles you mentioned as your favorites.

Wait, he’s not your partner. He’s your mentor and boss. You look at the table, where the sandwiches sit, waiting to be enjoyed.

“When was the last time you had one of these?” he asked, gesturing to the sandwiches. The smell envelops you in a pleasant memory.

“That would be when you informed me I was getting an A for the semester,” comes your reply.

He blinked. “Really?”

“I'd never had that type of sandwich until you made me one, either," you admit as you take one of the stools and sit down. You take a bite of your sandwich, letting the taste of well-seasoned ingredients explode in your mouth. Yeah, that's some good stuff. You remember when you'd shared this in his lab, it was your final semester and not long before Wily went rogue. Since you spent a fair amount of time in his lab, sometimes he provided you with food. One day, it'd been these sandwiches, ordered from some nearby local place. They'd been pretty damn good. He sits across the table from you and starts on his food, and the two of you munch away contentedly.

He’s not made any overt moves. Most talk is about either work or the hobbies you share. He’s been a gentleman, and you’re happy about that, but a bit let down. There’s an occasional teasing or snarky comment, and you wonder if you’re just being impatient, or oblivious, or something. You’ve dated a few times, but nothing ever panned out in the long run. What might dating Wily be like? Would that make things awkward, or would it turn out to be a meeting of both minds and bodies?

“So how was your day? I trust you had no problems in the lab.” you hear him say.

“Everything was just fine, thank you. I had all the things I needed and I'm almost done with DWN-057's arm.”

“Since you were able to identify who you were making the weapon for, I take it you looked at the rest of him. What did you think?”

“I am impressed," you admit, seeing the flicker of pleasure in his eyes at her admission. "You've come a long way since the DLWN Numbers. I'm almost jealous of you."

He sat back, a smug grin on his face. “Jealous? Why would that be?”

“You have your lab and army of robots to bring you all the materials you need. You're pretty much free to do as you please, you don't have the constraints that law-abiding scientists have to deal with."

He let out a pleased laugh at that. “Living on the wrong side of the law has its benefits.”

“As I can see.” You wave a hand to indicate your surroundings, “I know Dr. Light isn't too proud of what he had to do to get funding to build his lab.”

Wily nodded. Light Labs was a huge undertaking, and to get funding for that, Thomas Light and his partner had taken several contracts with the military. He had been compensated well for his work, but you and Wily knew that it weighed heavily on Light that his genius had been used in war machines. He tried to ease his conscience by building robots designed to help humanity, but that part of his past still haunted him.

“Sometimes you do what you have to. It was not pleasant for Thomas, but it benefited him in the long run," he replied.

You nod slowly. You could easily understand the time and effort it took to build Rock and his sister. What was harder to grasp – at least for the layman – was how much funds it took to not only build these two but the funds needed just for the research into AI and advanced robotics. Dr. Light had also grown attached to his first Robot Master, known initially as Blues before he became Proto Man.

“I guess you felt like you had to leave Light Labs and do...”

“I did," he replied in all seriousness.

“It was a pretty damned ballsy move.”

He grinned widely at that, wiggling his eyebrows. “You're right, it was. But dreams are not accomplished by the meek.”

“Ha. I suppose not.”

“What are your dreams?” he asked. You glance at him, and he continues. “You didn't study robotics just so you could build robots for other people. What do you hope to accomplish?”

You’re not sure. It’d be pretty cool to design your own Robot Master. Cybernetics was also another interest to you, as its current applications were relatively limited due to the barrier between machine and flesh. You have another idea milling around, but despite your time with Wily, you’re hesitant to share your idea with one of the world’s most wanted criminals. You regard him with a thoughtful frown.

“What if I gave you time and space for your research?" he asks. Your eyes widen as you struggle to control your reaction. He grins at you, knowing he has your interest.

“Come now. I'm giving you the chance to get to work on your dream. I can provide you with the materials you need. And you've seen for yourself that there's plenty of space. So if there's an idea rolling around in that pretty little head of yours, I don't doubt it's a good one."

Well. You’re not immune to a well-placed stroke of the ego, are you?

“I remember you talking back then about how nice it would be to be able to upgrade a human body like you could for a robot…" Back then, it was an impossible dream, but as robotics advanced and cybernetics had a few promising developments, it seemed more possible that in the future, the two might become integrated. Possibly cybernetic organs, or a whole new body. You saw how sophisticated robotics has become since its inception. Hell, look at how cell phones were back then, compared to the smartphones of today.

You’d made notes, run test programs, and the like but you’d never had the chance or space to test it out fully.

“You didn't spend all that time just working on other people's projects, did you?” you hear him ask. You quickly look back at him.

“How come you didn't ask me to work for you back then?” you ask.

“I was just starting out. I was new at the villain thing and I didn't want to get you in trouble or risk you being harmed," he said calmly. "I respect you too much for that, and, I'd be a shitty teacher and mentor if I let a student get hurt."

“Hmph.” You give him a brief nod to show you accept his answer.

“As you can see, I am very well-established. I know what I'm doing now, and I can keep you safe. And let you work on your research. Course, I would need to know what you wanted to do…”

“Well…” You lean back, crossing your arms, appraising him. Can you trust him?

“What is it?” he asked, interest all too obvious in his tone.

“I did get a lot of work done. But it's mainly notes and research along with designs. Without a lab of my own, I could only do so much in the way of a physical product."

“I assume you have enough notes and research to start work immediately.”

“I do."

“I would be disappointed if you didn't," he commented. You smirk back at him.

“You seem to have a lot of faith in me even though I haven't made a big name of myself like Mikhail Cossack or Noelle Lalinde."

“I saw your potential in college, and there's nothing wrong with avoiding the limelight. You get more done when you’re not prancing in front of the cameras or trying to be careful to not piss people off.”

You throw your head back and laugh at that before you sober up, thinking about your research and what Wily could do if he got his hands on it. It’s not weaponry, but could enhance existing weapons. You’ve seen the remains of the Stardroids he managed to salvage and wonder what you might learn if he allowed you to examine the alien technology. You grin, deciding to try a bit of a Wily maneuver.

“I’ll tell you about my project, but I want to examine the Stardroid parts you have,” you offer.

“Think you can make a deal with me?” he asks with a grin. You calmly nod. “I’ll take it, at least this once.” He extends his hand for a shake, and you don’t hesitate to grab it. His hands feel like what you’d expect – bony but muscular. It’s also pleasingly warm and dry, and a thrill passes through your body at the contact, because thus far, Wily has given you space.

As you expect, there is quite a bit to learn from the Stardroids, and you see a couple of practical possibilities emerging from the Stardroids’ unique abilities. And while you’re looking at them, he explains how he’d already used some of the technology to improve Shadow Man, giving him Saturn’s teleporting ability so that the ninja-bot was able to teleport you safely to Wily’s lab – something that wasn’t supposed to be possible for organic matter because of its difference from data (which was why advanced robots like Mega Man could teleport, but not humans or animals)

You've been wondering about that since you came here. "That's fucking genius," you say in response to that. He grins knowingly and you're pretty sure he's puffing out his chest a little.

It was still a huge drain on Shadow Man, so he had to use that ability sparingly, Wily explains. Still, that sort of feat shows you that others are possible, including your own.

“One must be prepared to adapt. I am always willing to learn more, and there is plenty to learn from the Stardroids." He sounded like he had in the old days when he was giving a lecture. You notice he's standing close to you. Not indecently so, but as a fellow scientist examining the same thing as you. You decide to test the waters a bit and move closer to him, your shoulders just touching. He does not move away. You stay where you are, and so does he when the two of you are looking at the part, examining it under magnifying lenses, and listening to the observations he'd made. He points your attention to something and you feel his hand on your back, touching lightly. You have to remember to breathe and keep your hand steady because holy fuck, your pulse has picked up so quickly that you're almost dizzy.

You didn't realize that being here, in close quarters to him, was causing tension to build up. He used to be your teacher and mentor, now he's your boss. You don't want to jeopardize this relationship, but fuck, he's such a silver fox, and at this point, you're 99.9 percent certain he has… something for you. After all, hadn’t he remembered these little details about you?

So you take a deep breath and relax, letting him keep his hand right where it is as you lean to get a better look at what he’s pointing out. You chat a little over it before you stand back up, and he pulls his hand away.

“So there you have it. You can have access to this lab anytime, but first…” He raises his eyebrows. You take a deep breath, wondering what he’ll think of it.

“You could call it a self-repair matrix, I suppose. You know how cybernetics as a technology is still limited because flesh and machine don't exactly mesh well." There are limited examples, to be sure. Cochlear implants, robotic hands, pacemakers, and the like. Technology has come a long way, but the bridge between flesh and robotics is still a ways off. "It's a healing system for a robot meant to stimulate what a human does to heal themselves. It's more for internal technology, but I don't see why it can't also apply externally, with enough time and development. And hopefully, that can also help with meshing with a human body more efficiently."

“I knew you had to be cooking up something good, and I am intrigued.” His smile is enthusiastic.

“The issue with the program is that it has to be customized for each robot. Kind of like DNA. Each Robot Master is unique, so the program would have to have its specs added to it before installation. Once installed, the robot would need less maintenance than before, and some of the damage could be repaired by the program. It also helps to preserve memories, should the brain itself become somehow damaged."

“I like it. I definitely like it.” He tugs his mustache thoughtfully as he stares at you, and you regard him with a modest but pleased smile.“You will need a Robot Master to test it on and make sure it works.”

“It does. At least, when I tested it.”

He raised his eyebrow. “How? On one of the robots you built for others?”

“No way! But I did test it on my computer and a discarded robot brain. They were successful, and I anticipate the same results for a robot of Master-level, but it would take longer to make one matrix since there's more data to integrate into it."

“I look forward to seeing you build it. Let me know what you need.”

Boom. Just like that, your employer has essentially offered you a blank check. You pause as you realize that some of your supplies are likely going to be stolen.

If there was a better real-life example of ‘making a deal with the devil’ than what you had just gotten into, you’d be hard-pressed to imagine it.

“You look worried, Y/n. Is something the matter?" he asks. You huff softly, looking down at the table with the Stardroid parts illuminated under lights and magnifying lenses. So far, you haven't mentioned anything about the legal ramifications. And you hadn't done anything illegal so far. You weren't stealing things, taking over locales and terrorizing the locals, or shaking down governments for money.

Nah, you were just working for a mad scientist who did do all of these things, and technically, you could be considered an accomplice for assisting in the construction of a Robot Master. Now, if you asked for it, he’d steal for you.

You place your hands on your hips as you study your boss (and object of your desire) and decide to be honest.

“We both know what's going on here is illegal. You do not need to fear me snitching on you. And I am grateful for this opportunity, believe me. It's… exciting, and thrilling. I'm having a ton of fun here." You see his eyes light up at that, and you continue, "But I can't help but wonder if I made a deal with the devil."

At that, his grin becomes devilish indeed. “Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven!”

#megaman #writing #strawberrycatbeans #villain gets the girl #fanfiction #rockman #megaman classic #dr. wily #wily #albert wily #wily x reader #mega man

[bowieandqueen11]

Distraction / Dracule Mihawk Imagine

Request: Hello! I was wondering if I could request a Mihawk x Reader that’s kinda enemies to lovers. I’m super in love with the whole ‘they hate each other but their constant bickering is bordering on blatant flirting’. Thank you so much ^~^

Babes you are so right!! This is so sweet oh my goodness!! :) Sorry if this is really OOC, its my first time writing for Mihawk!

This was fun to write, but it took me a while - so if you liked it, or if you want a follow on, please leave a comment!

Warning: a little strong language, mentions of knives!

(I do not own One Piece or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @bangnyfes.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

The exhale that left your nose at the sound of his voice would have been squally enough to shatter stone.

It had only been a meagre three days of uninterrupted peace before the cursed Dracule Mihawk arrived. Three. Days. True, your Captain and your fellow Red Haired Pirates had spent most of the hours here celebrating: emptying your dwindling crate supplies of poor Lucky Roux's lamb legs, unloading all the bottles of sweet liquor graciously donated to Shanks (or wily guerdoned by a female admirer off the coast of Syrup Village), and dripping every bottle dry until half the crew was splayed out on hammocks, and the other half was link-armed dancing underneath the endless ocean of drifting stars.

'For someone who's supposed to be a lookout, your observational skills are... well, decidedly more lacking than a sea cow's.'

As much as you loved Shanks, sometimes you wanted to grab his shoulders and give him a hard shake, trying to wipe that shrewd smile off his face. You hadn't even been granted any time to properly wake up; you had flung your arm over your squinting eyes, desperately trying to figure out why there was a looming shadow growing on the edge of your vision. Turned out, that as soon as that blasted coffin-shaped cruiser had come cruising past the white shores of Shank's base island, the man had nearly tripped over his feet to come leer over you like a grinning meerkat.

Look out duty? He had put you on look out duty!? With the brutish, blazing sun scorching across your bedraggled head? With the salty spray of the spring sea stretching its foamy fingers up across the shore and chilling your feet on this dusty, forgotten pocket of the East Blue? With the infuriating, pestering, testing, teasing Dracule Mihawk? Part of you was exasperated: you had been hoping for at least a week of recuperation before Shanks sailed off again for Yukiryu Island. Another part of you was dissatisfied that it had taken the swordsman so long to show up.

You hum in response as Mihawk's lengthening shadow shudders across your eyelids; feeling the cool chill that followed the flick of his coat around his boots, you don't even bother to open your eye and glare at the man. Instead, you dig your heels further down into the wet grains: legs stretched out and arms crossed tightly around your chest, lounging against the cragged edge of mossy crevice behind your back.

'I noticed you', you reply after a moment of pregnant silence. You fidget, trying your best not to give away the fact that your back was starting to ache from staying so *nonchalantly* perched in this position; to not give the man any ammunition. It really, really did not help your pride that his piercing eyes seemed to be mocking you with the way they glance obviously down the curved outline of your spine. Casting it away as vicarious embarrassment, Mihawk is almost ashamed with the burning realisation that his eyes had been trained over the years to be almost painfully conscious of your every miniscule mannerism.

'I just didn't think it was the effort to open my eyes', you sigh, tilting your head back towards the sun-strengthened field of bright blue swaying across the far yonder. 'There's no threat nearby. Unless-', you beckon your hand out towards the tapering shoreline, 'you count some of the cockles Beckman might stand on with his bare feet.'

'That's why the Captain's always wearing sandals!', you hear echo out from the mouth of the cave looming to your right, followed by the teetering sound of uproarious laughter. Despite the noise of your rancorous crewmates, Mihaw's golden eyes never waver: their piercing intensity focused solely on the edge of your irises as you finally, with a displeased twist of your lips, blink your gaze over to settle firmly on his own.

'I passed at least three Marine vessels during my jaunt over to your little...shack.' The swordsman's head cocks in your direction: his voice is low. Guarded. Unwavering. But you're getting to him. You know you're getting to him. Trying to wash down the waves of heat that begin to flood your vexed cheeks, you curse yourself for being able to read even his most minute idiosyncracies: the way his left eyebrow raises almost a tenth of an inch when he's struck by mild amusement.

'Shack? Shack!' You kick your bare foot off the slippery edge of the lapped rock and take a step out onto the gorge of beach stretching between you and Mihawk, swinging your arms out by your sides. 'Why Dracule, can't you see this is the last refuge of the East Blue - you dare scorn an abode teeming with luxury, good-will, and free booze!'

Another exuberant cheer rings out from Lucky Roux, as the unmistakable sound of two tankards slamming together, followed by a faint slosh and cry of outrage from Yasopp follow in quick procession.

The only hint that Mihawk has heard them is the slight narrowing of his eyes.

'It's not your fault, Hawk-Eyes.' You try to stifle your facetious smirk, instead placing your back against the rock again and fidgeting as if settling back for another snooze. Tipping the edge of your straw hat down to cover your eyes, you duck your chin into your neck and close your eyes, knowing the blatant disregard for Dracule would drive him mad.

'Suppose your eye sight isn't quite what it used to be, considering your advanced age and all.'

The clamour of your crew drowns in your ears by the pause that follows; too obdurate to flick an eye open and observe Mihawk's indignant reaction, you instead allow the sound of out-of-tune shanty singing to be replaced with the almost still whisper of the waves. Of the slight hiss of the balled sun, as it throws down its rays and coats you in nothing but the icy tendrils of Mihawk's obstinate silhouette. Of his sharp suspire twanging in your ear, as his pointed footsteps shift the earthen grains guarding you from his propinquity.

Of his gravelly voice, nearly making you knock the hat off your head as it suddenly flows past your ear.

The sunlight floods your eyes when they finally open, until you can barely see Mihawk: just the flaxen outline of his being as he comes floating up towards you: phantom like, and yet more imposing and colossal than the threat of a thousand Marine ships protruding their helms your way.

'Enough with the pleasantries. I believe I have something that may be of interest to you.'

He reaches into the inner lining of his coat, withdrawing a rolled up piece of parchment. Although you're intrigued, all you dare to do is look inquisitively between Mihawk's outreaching hand, and distrustfully back to his unwavering stare.

Wow, he really was close. You could almost see your reflection in the immaculately polished glaze of Yoru, still strapped on his back; as it turned out, that back just happened to be jutting your way. Mihawk's spine is almost completely arching over your reclining torso, almost blotting out the fringes of the sun, his head bowing as if observing rather flighty prey. Realising you're still stubborn as always: far too headstrong to trust him, or to place your fingers anywhere that could cause you to come into contact with his skin, he sighs and unrolls the treasure map with a flick of his wrist.

You did your best to hold back your snort. Really, you did.

'What, exactly, do you think the Captain will want with a scrappy looking, filth covered, mud covered, blood covered-'

'I didn't say Shanks. I said you. Although your Captain may have been a valiant opponent many years ago, he's now half the man he used to be. '

You chew the inside of your lip, finally rolling on the balls of your feet and coming to a full stand in front of the swordsman; Mihawk, almost unconsciously, straightens his own spine in return.

'You find me valiant, ey?'

He pierces you with the most grating stare he can muster.

'I find you wanting.'

The tang of salt seething off the bubbling sea could do nothing to burn away the fizzling want and joint annoyance banging against your ribcage, nor could the cool pinch of the jagged stone distract you from how restless you were feeling with Mihawk leaning so close.

'I bet I could find this treasure before you with my eyes blindfolded and my hands tied behind my back.'

The tangy breeze curls the strands of hair loosened behind his right ear, and by all the wishes in the world did you want so badly to tuck it back into place.

'Careful now, turtle.' He takes another step forward, effectively pinning you between the cove wall and his rigid chest. For the first time since your injudicious acquaintance with the warlord, you could feel it beat... no, feel it slam almost erratically. It seemed to jolt so ferociously against his pec, if he weren't restraining himself from taking another step forward and diminishing you completely, you would have been able to feel it against the unbuttoned cotton of your shirt. 'You've been spending far too much time around Shanks. We wouldn't want to step on that shell and have it crack.'

'You want to go out searching for treasure... you? With a map that looks like it's been pulled out of a goldfish's behind.'

He takes that final step forward, and as the buckle of his belt hits against the top of your groin, you find your obstinate bearing falter far faster than you were proud to admit.

'I find myself bored, and you may provide a fleeting distraction.'

The trimmed hair coating his jaw feels warm as it glides across the side of your cheek, but you still can't help but tremble. His voice: gruff and warm as it rumbles a devastating gale across the side of your nose nearly makes your breath hitch. Nearly. But just the mere thought: the mere tremble of your pulse point as you tried to swallow back down your pride as its slippery tendrils latched and slithered its way up the back of your throat was enough to give the game away.

Your thighs tremble as his leg slid up against between your calves, and you gave yourself away completely.

Mihawk's lips turn up at the edges, and the bastard had the audacity to pin your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. Imperturbed, as if unsnarling a feeble swallow's wings clipped by a wild springe, the man looming over your torso raises your face. Closer and closer and closer: his unbreaking gaze almost unnerving. Almost. If it hadn't been for that glint of delight festering in the corner of his swirls.

'Why bother, then?', you swallow thickly. 'If it's not a challenge.'

'I may find it fun.' His hand drops down to your collar bone: his grip firm, resolute, surprisingly warm as his fingertips constrict at the feel of your bare skin.

'No, really', you manage to pant out between laboured breaths, shaking your head out to try and stop yourself from becoming distracted by the racy feeling beginning to ball in the pit of your stomach.

He was playing you, you thought, biting down on your tongue and pretending the pressure of his thumb pad faintly pressing down on the strip of skin just above your left breast wasn't making you go lightheaded. He was toying with you. Snap out of it!

'Tell me the truth, and I'll do it. Why are you really here?'

'Perhaps I just like to see you squirm, like a little rabbit...', his hand rises from his side to slide up the inside of your wrist almost painstakingly slowly, his words dying out once he's encircled the bone with his vice-like grip. The next utterance is caught only by your ear as a whisper in the wind. 'Caught in my snare.'

Although he doesn't cut off your airway - he would never do anything to outright cause you physical harm - the finger still resting on collar bone crawls across your throat. His finger nails scratch like pinpricks from sharpened knives as he claws over your pulse point, before running the side of his finger back underneath your chin.

He looks almost... contemplative, as his eyes dart furtively down to linger over the top seam of your lip.

It's the first time, during all your years of solicitous enmity, that you had ever seen him distracted.

Using the opportunity, you manage to break free of his trance - of his hold on you. Grabbing onto his sleeve, you tug him towards you with all the force shaking through your burning body, appreciating the slight widening of his eyes in surprise as you slam his back against the wall of rock. You press yourself against the taut, constricting muscles of his abdomen, holding one hand firmly against his waist. The other snakes around to pin his wrist against the scrap of trouser by his hip, every cell in your bodies ablaze as he flexes his fingers. They curl into a ball over his fist, dangerously close to brushing across the back of your hand.

He could move you, of course. If he wanted to, he could flick you off him like a stray piece of sand, dusting you off as if you weighed as much as a handful of pebbles.

But he gave it away. God, how hard he had been trying not to: how hard he was trying to stop his body from flushing an increasingly paler shade of white at how mortified he was. How infuriated he was. How ensnared he was.

He didn't move. He gave himself away completely.

All he did was tilt his head back, and half-smiled expectantly at the sound of your dagger being sheathed from its thigh-scabbard; he was intrigued by the way you jutted its tip just below his Adam's apple, tilting his face to meet the steel.

'Don't forget, I still owe you for that time on the Nammu Isles.'

He tuts, eyes shining dangerously in the glare. 'Are you talking about the time I saved your pathetic life?'

You jut your chin forward, imposing your face against his own. 'I mean the time you took my bounty. You better stop talking, oh mighty warlord of the sea, before I shave that pretty little moustache off hair by hair.'

For a moment, there's nothing but the rhythmic brush of his breath against the pursed lines of your full lips: the odd jolt of the tip of his nose hitting against your own as he observes like with the intensity and rigidness of a man possessed.

Without breaking eye contact, he makes as if to lean forward and kiss you, but instead butts his elbow into your stomach and uses your doubled-over state to swipe the knife out of your fingers.

'You may have that back, if you win.' He toys with it, almost looking teasing as he tucks the small blade into his breast pocket.

'I'll take your sword, too.' You wipe your hand across your mouth before placing your palms on your knees, smiling up at the swordsman. You would be damned, if after all this time, you would give him the satisfaction of seeing how flustered he made you.

He bows his head, trying in vain to hide his amusement. He does, however, slap at the hand that's tentatively reaching behind his back, subtly trying to latch on to the hilt of jaded Yoru.

'Of course, if you win. Such a shame that you never stood a chance.'

'I look forward to wielding that sword', you hum in a sing-song tone as you creak your back up again, placing one hand on your hip and your other pointer finger ostentatiously on your chin. Raising your eyes to the sky, you pretend to think deeply as watch two seagulls squawk, stream and tumble past each other, darting through the streaming white clouds. 'I bet I could make some delicious Aburaage with it.'

'And if I win, I look forward to taking that awful hat from you.'

Looking on in disbelief, Shanks shakes his head and tilts back to face the rest of his slack-jaw, gobsmacked crew.

'Right, bets on boys. Which of our beloved numbskulls will be the first to make a move?'

'I mean, he couldn't be more obvious!', Yasopp chimes in, fiddling some loose berries out of his trouser pockets and slamming down into his Captain's awaiting hands. 'I bet he drew that map himself!'

Benn Beckman rolls his eyes, but joins in with the circling chorus of laughter as Shanks slaps his arm against his back. 'It is the fourth time this month he's shown up with a map for Y/n.'

'Well, no matter what happens-', Shanks replies, squatting down onto his hammock again and distractedly counting through the coins he's collected, 'we have to be thankful to Y/n! After all, all proceeds and winnings will be going towards restocking our drink supplies!'

#one piece #one piece imagine #mihawk #mihawk imagine #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk imagine #dracule mihawk x reader #opla #shanks #red haired shanks #shanks imagine #opla imagine

[toournextadventure]

l'appel du vide

a/n: this request was phenomenal, and I had the best time ever with it, so good luck pals

Word Count: 1.5k Warnings: violence, blood mention, swearing, Wednesday feeling Emotions Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (Masterlist)

You shouldn’t have done it. You knew you shouldn’t have done it. Wednesday had told you time and time again to not do it. So why had you? What part of your tiny brain had told you to get in the way when you knew it would get you hurt or killed? She had warned you of Crackstone's power and how your wily wit and charm wouldn’t get you anywhere with him. 

And yet you went ahead and did it anyway. You half-wolfed out and punched and caught his attention. Wednesday knew you wouldn't stand a chance, and you didn't when he tossed you through the fire. It gave Wednesday the perfect opportunity to stab him through his black heart. That should have been the end of it.

Then Thornhill came by with a gun of all things and you just had to step in front of it before that horrifying *bang* echoed through the quad. What did you think you were doing? Not once had Wednesday ever asked you to do anything like that for her, she had even done her best to push you away. But now you were singed and bleeding out on the ground and-

-oh. Oh you were dying. You were bleeding out in the quad and Wednesday was just standing there. Her feet had rooted themselves into the concrete as she heard your wet gasps, saw the tears fall from your eyes, watched you claw at the ground because you were drowning in your own blood and she couldn't fucking move.

A single whimper escaped your lips, and Wednesday could hear it even through the crackling fire and rubble falling from the torn up quad. She could hear it even through the buzzing of Eugene’s bees and the pitiful sounds coming from Thornhill a few feet away. She could hear it louder than her own voice as she told Eugene to leave.

Her feet felt trapped by lead as she still stood there, looking down at you and watching crimson blood - which she usually adored - fall from the corner of your mouth. Your blood left a stain on your skin and why didn’t Wednesday think it was beautiful? It should have been. She had never cowered away from blood before, but seeing yours flow so freely? It made her sick.

Bianca got to you before Wednesday could even remind her body to breathe. She got to you first and pressed her hands against your abdomen so hard; did she not care if you hurt? The noise you let out would haunt Wednesday for the rest of her life. But Wednesday could just stand there and watch as your blood continued to flow around Bianca’s fingers. Did it make her feel unclean? Tainted? Would she ever be able to completely scrub your blood off of her skin and feel okay again?

“Addams.”

That was Bianca’s voice, she knew that much. It didn’t change the fact that there was something wrong with Wednesday. Never in her life had she ever shied away from blood and destruction and death. She had enjoyed taking down Crackstone, had gotten a thrill out of stabbing the blade into his black heart. But your blood, and your death? It was… it was terrifying.

“Wednesday, get down here.”

A siren song. It was a low blow, but a very small part at the back of Wednesday’s brain was relieved. A siren song took all decisions away to stay rooted to the spot and just watch you die. You were dying. Wednesday fell to her knees on the other side of you. The flagstone dug into her knees, ripping her skirt and splitting her skin, leaving her warm from the blood; yours or hers, she couldn’t differentiate.

“Can you put pressure on this?” Bianca asked. Her voice sounded muffled, watery, far away. Wednesday gave a singular nod, not daring to take her eyes off of your pained expression. “I’ll go get help.”

For what was probably the first time in Wednesday’s life, she hesitated. She hesitated because what would your slick, bloody body feel like under her fingers? What would she do if she touched you and found you dead? Death was supposed to bring her comfort, not dread, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to try everything in her power to save you.

It took her too long to lock her fingers and put her hands on your abdomen. The moment she touched the blood - your blood - she nearly ripped them away and pulled them back to her own body. But she didn’t. It’s like science class, she thought as she tried to ignore how hard it was to keep her hands in one spot. Except it wasn’t like science, and you weren’t some frog who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. You were someone she cared for, and you were dying, and each second felt more and more useless because now you were coughing up blood between your pathetic whimpers.

Wednesday felt something warm and wet on her cheeks and she hoped it was your blood and not her own tears because Wednesday Addams did not cry. Not for anyone, not for you even though the life draining from your body sent a prickling sensation behind her eyes and a tightness in her chest. She did not cry because it would mean that you meant something to her, and no one could never know she cared for you and wanted you to live.

Her heart froze in her chest when she felt your hand, slick and weak, rest on top of both of hers. It was a feeble attempt at pulling her hands away and she didn’t give in. But the gesture, the feel of your skin both cold from blood loss and hot from the blood itself, sent a new fear straight through her heart and down her spine. You were dying. You were dying and she couldn’t even say anything to comfort you.

“If you die before I admit I love you, I’ll never let your soul rest in peace.” It was a threat, and an empty one at that, but you were dying and you wouldn’t stop. You couldn’t die, not on her, not on anyone. She had pushed everyone else away but you weren’t supposed to actually leave. What happened to all those promises that you were with her forever? That nothing could come between you if you had any say in it?

“Promise me you won’t die.” The words felt like scalding ash in her mouth and boiling acid in her stomach. She didn’t even know why she had said it, it had just come out. An impossible promise for you to make let alone keep. But she needed you to make it anyway. “Please.”

You squeezed her hands, a pathetic attempt, but your silent words were heard loud and clear. You were dying, but you promised her you wouldn’t, so you would be okay. Wednesday trusted that you would be okay because you promised her you would be. And no one broke a promise to Wednesday Addams.

She was so focused on you, on the shortening of your breaths, of the nearly indiscernible movement of your chest that she didn’t see anyone approaching. A pair of hands wrapped around her waist and tried to pull her back, and the adrenaline shot through her veins. They couldn’t take her away from you, not when she was holding your life in her hands, not when you had promised not to die.

“Wednesday, let them take her.” Enid? What was she doing there? Couldn’t she see you were dying? Couldn’t she see how serious this was, that this was no time to be pulling away?

But Wednesday fell back into Enid and watched through a haze as they - she couldn’t see who “they” were - took over, lifting you and carrying you and taking you away from her. Why would they take you away from her? Why would they take you where she couldn’t follow? Didn’t they know she needed you? She needed you like a fish needed water, like a heart needed blood, she needed you.

Wednesday Addams needed you, and just the admittance of that fact finally broke her and she let Enid hold her as those hot salty tears finally fell down her cheeks.

"It'll take time, but she'll recover." The doctors had promised a full recovery. That was really all Wednesday could have ever asked for, more than she could have asked for. They were making sure you kept your promise that you wouldn’t die, you wouldn’t leave her there. She sat at your bedside and watched over you like the grim reaper, except she was there to keep you alive.

“I love you too.” Your voice was scratchy and painful sounding and weak, so very weak after so long without talking. Wednesday’s eyes shot up and she met yours, bloodshot and hazy and drug-filled. But they were open, and they were looking right at her even if only partly. Wednesday didn’t say anything, she just reached out and grabbed your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

She was thankful when your eyes closed again because then you couldn’t see the silent tears falling from her eyes.

#requests #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams imagine

[vagabond-umlaut]

⁙ ensnared

No matter what the world says, no matter what the world believes in, Gojo is nothing but a puny fly to the wily spider that you are. Flying headfirst into the gossamer web your skilled fingers have spun, time after time after time— The silk threads, perfectly tailored. Just for him.

▸ Gojo x Wife!Reader; Tooth-Rotting Domestic Fluff; Very Very Suggestive Themes; Nudity; Mentions of Food & A Plant Dying; Gojo calls his wife 'cookie'; Everything is fair in love and war ;) [This Fic's Rated Mature -> MDNI!!! ^_^]

▸ This is for you, Dilay! *MWAH MWAH MWAH* @roseqzpd

For all that is said about him, Gojo is a man who succumbs to only two temptations.

One:

Sweet dishes, regular intake of which will put anyone into a hyperglycemic crisis. [Good thing, he isn't just 'anyone'.]

And the other one:

You. His wife. His sweet, sweet, sweetest wife, who's currently peering up at him from his lap, wrapped in nothing except a way too tiny bath towel— however– he instructs himself the nth time since you emerged from the bathroom– you are a temptation he refuses to cave in to... just for now.

Strangely cognizant of his mind [like you are, more often than not], Gojo watches you intently stare at his lips for a full two seconds. Then repeat the request you made less than thrice today, but your husband already feels his defenses crumbling.

"'Toruuu," you whine, wrapping your arms round his neck and pressing closer, "Won't you help your wife choose a pretty outfit for today's get-together? I'm so confused... You want your wife to look the best among all the ladies there– tell me, don't you?"

"'Course, I do, cookie!" he exclaims, indignant as to how you could ever think anything otherwise— before a sudden ping! from his laptop sends him careening to the ground like a deflated balloon.

The poor man sighs. "But there's still so much work left to be done–"

"– which you can always complete once you've helped me, 'Toru," you cut him off with a pout, that slowly gathers a playful tinge as you ask, "Why are you behaving like this, though? Usually, you jump at the faintest chance to get out of paperwork. But now..."

Eyes growing comically wide, your voice sinks to a conspiratorial whisper. So worried, so cute. "Did anyone threaten to leak where your secret sweets stash is, 'Toru? If you– you know– submit these reports too late like always, eh?"

The only response your husband manages to eke out for your query is a very strained chuckle... 'cause, yeah, that's right.

Nanami promised to do exactly that– telling his very dear but having-black holes-for-stomachs students where his foreign sweets are stored– besides telling you how the white-haired man hogged ten chocolates one day despite his allowed daily two– and how your favourite star cactus didn't die from age but from him overwatering it, that week you were on a mission in France two months back– should he submit anything late ever again... But, no, wait.

You were on a foreign trip when he was given this ultimatum, and returned only last night. And Nanami promised to not tell you these yet– at least, not any time before that damned deadline's over. So, how...

"'Toruuu," Your petulant self, very adorably so, draws him away from his musings. And Gojo swears, if he wasn't losing before, he certainly is now. Your watery eyes, lower lip jutted out just the right amount and your nails leaving a delicious trail on his undercut— they've always been too strong for the world's strongest sorcerer.

Groaning, he leans forward to rest his forehead on yours. And darts his eyes to bore into yours lest they travel to your soft skin peek– NO, DON'T GO THERE. NOT NOW. PLEASE.

He huffs. "Okay, fine."

You open your mouth, probably to screech in delight, but your husband shushes you with a finger to your lips. He continues, shifting his tone to a graver timbre, "But only to help you choose your outfit– nothing else."

Lips curving into a wide smile behind his finger, your eyes gleam in terribly concealed delight. He has to actively stop himself from kissing you right then and there— there are still three mission reports left to be filed.

"And if I catch you trying to change the stream to anything else," he warns. You nestle closer into him, blinking your gorgeous eyes up at him in silent wait. A chuckle [which sounds more embarrasingly choked than anything] leaves him.

Features shifting into something brighter than a supernova, you push his finger away. And giggling, say, "You won't go easy on me— right, 'Toru?"

[In hindsight, though, Gojo thinks he should have recognised this plan to be yours.

From the way you step out the bathroom, not in your usual bathrobe but a towel... To the way you beg him to help decide your dress, in spite of knowing well how he leans towards only white or light blue choices... To the way your towel– pretty conveniently and accidentally, of course– slips lower not even ten minutes into the task...

To the soft 'Oops!' you exhale but make no move to cover your exposed chest, a mute thrill clear in the curve on your lips as you watch him watch, drink in, mentally devour the delectable sight before— your ever-present coyness nowhere to be found even as he strips you, nothing hiding you anymore from his starving gaze...

To the smug smile you're offering him now, the next day, after he's been thoroughly chewed out by Yaga for submitting his work a whopping four hours late...

Your wicked, brilliant, bewitching eyes go from him, to the mountain of empty candy wrappers on the centre table, to the empty pot of soil on the windowsill– the one that had your annoying, attention-hogging desert plant– then return to him.

A shudder runs down his spine— which doesn't take long to transform into a shiver of excitement. And a very, very warm burst of fondness right in the middle of his chest.

The man shakes his head with a laugh, 'cause—

For all that is said about him, Gojo is a man who succumbs to only two temptations.

And he'll be a fool, if he is to mess with the second– and more important of the two–

You.

His sweet, sweet, sweeter than the sweetest sweet dish, but startlingly sharp wife.]

[Also, no joke, but isn't your 'Toru insanely in love with you, even more for that?]

Gojo, some time later: My cookie is sooo smart– did ya know that, Nanamin? Hehe. Nanami: Why TF do you always hide in my office every time your wife is mad at you?

▸ Divider by @hitobaby. Header from Pinterest. I don't own the characters used here.

▸ masterlist

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #kit posts 📝

[bucknastysbabe]

Docile - King Aegon II x Lady Stokeworth Reader

my eyes are animal and dumb and hold no accusation and every time i die i come right back as another little lamb because the king priest loves me so so much - @/rollercoasterwords

Rating: Explicit (read tws)

Tags: Dark!Aegon II, post blood and cheese, lady-in-waiting reader, past relationships, exhibitionism, dirty talk, TW: Aeggy Ain’t Nice, manipulation, emotional abuse, unreliable narrator, degredation, dub-con, it’s dreary at the keep, Aegon is very unstable, rough sex, pnv!sex, erotic choking, lights out orgasms, spitting, a wee bit sloppy, dacryphilia

A/N: Hey look I wrote a filthy nasty depressing Aegon fic. It felt great. Cheers🤨

Taglist: @aemonddtargaryen @lovelykhaleesiii @aemonds-holy-milk @sugarpopss @fairysluna

The cold throne sat with Aegon atop, broody expression upon his drawn features. The entire room felt lifeless and chilly. Not that it had been a warm place in what felt like years. Goldcloaks and the Kingsguard seemed to loom around every corner.

Heads were being stuck on pikes, Lord Otto brought 100 cats to the keep, and Helaena’s anguished wailing echoed through Maegor’s Holdfast. It was a dismal place. You and the other ladies-in-waiting of the mourning queen were rendered moot as of now. Aimless.

Aegon always held power over you. Since a fresh maiden coming from Stokeworth— the loyal lambs to the Targaryens since the conquest. That’s what he called you, little lamb, while chasing your skirts with that silly laugh of his. He took your maidenhead soon after, Helaena not paying any mind, oft lost in her thoughts or tending to the children.

You still felt guilt slipping about in the early days of the affair. Soon the prince grew tired of the passionate affair, finding the attention of whores easier. He had broken your soft heart at that grand feast celebrating kinslaying. He slurred, lips stained with strongwine and violet eyes glossy, “Lamb, I find this to be stifling. It’s probably best if you return to your duties.”

He had found another maiden to cavort around and deflower before everything when to shit. Funny enough, you thought it was bad then. Aegon seemed to have all life drained out of his wily nature after the horrid incident of his son. He was somber, drunk, raging. Wouldn’t see Helaena and seemed to prefer drink over the company of others. Too dangerous out on the street.

A guard nudged you out of the spiraling thoughts, bringing your gaze up to darkened eyes regarding you at the edge of the grand throne room. Aegon called from afar, voice booming in the barren room, “I said come here little lamb.” Bowing your head in obeisance, two guards flanking, the sound of your heels clicking against the marvel began to match the beat of your heart.

Now at the steps of the imposing mass of a throne you kneeled. Somehow felt in your bones it was the correct move. Aegon’s moods were sour and a tempest of late. He murmured, “Good little lamb. You Stokeworth’s were bred well. Come here.”

Gaze flicking up to his own— your mouth fell open. He wanted you to climb that monstrosity? Your heart beat faster, sweat collecting on your palms. The king sniffed, “Not very smart though, yes, get up here. To me, lamb.” He swigged his goblet and full lips curled just the slightest.

Taking shaky steps up the throne you felt as if you might cry, everything feeling wrong, the fear of being cut arising. Eventually a ringed hand reached out, Aegon’s fuller face cocking to get a look. Taking his hand, the blonde jerked you forward into his lap. You screeched in terror, eyes bugging at all the sharp blades.

Aegon’s laugh was a deep rumble, thick hands securing around your soft waist, squeezing and feeling. He hummed softly, “Just as I remembered. Meek little thing, pretty little thing, I’m not letting you get impaled lamb.”

Your eyes stared into his violet ones, tired and dull from well, everything. He looked away first, grumbling, “Turn around, I look a fright, only you ever got that. Sweet lamb. How foolish I am.” Aegon swiftly maneuvered you to sit astride his lap, back pressed against his softer chest and belly. He’d put some on with all the drink and stress eating.

He tucked his chin onto your shoulder, then moved to kiss and murmur, “I won’t let you go again. Lock you up if need be. Mine,” he bit a mark into your sensitive skin, “My lamb now. You’ll stay in my chambers. Poor sweet sister needs more maesters than ladies in waiting.”

A hand roughly grabbed your jaw, jerking your gaze to his. Aegon looked ravenous, eyes darting to and fro, licking his lips. He growled, “Open.” Your jaw lowered obediently, horrid shame crawling up your spine, heating your cheeks and cunt. He spat onto your tongue, still tinged reddish with wine. Your king smiled pleasantly when you swallowed, overwhelmed tears beginning to rise.

“Good little lamb, I taught you well did I not?”

“Y-you did my liege.”

Aegon’s hands moved upward to free your breasts, casually and uncaring, not like the room was filled with guards. Men who had seen you as a little girl. He groped and pinched at the soft flesh, giggling meanly, “These have gotten riper, gorgeous, how the guards wish they could have a piece.” You warred on whether to protest. But it felt so good to be coveted again.

Still. Everyone shall know by supper. Aegon wouldn’t let up, this you knew. He tweaked one of your nipples and the thoughts flew out of your head as you squirmed and mewled under his fingers. He laughed again, dragging his swollen cock into the soft velveteen of your dress. It was the same laugh he always had.

Just a little too high and sharp.

For some reason it dug in like the blades around you now.

His voice was a bit more ragged now, palms squeezing your tits on the side of too hard, moist lips frantically moving. You whimpered in pain, hand coming to his wrist to try to ease Aegon away. Aegon rasped, “I need you, ease my burden, take my pain will you lamb? Will you?” His blunt nails dug into your breast.

“Yes my king! Yes! Anything!,” you cried to make him stop.

Aegon sighed, fingers scrabbling at your dress, huffing, “Up, get it up, need you lamb, quit playing the shy maiden.” You blushed and helped him hoist up the fine fabric, tears welling up again as your cunt laid bare to the entire room. He swiped two fingers through your slit, collecting the gathered wetness, grinning wide.

“All that crying and you’re wet. Did you spread your pretty legs for another lordling when I stopped? Something to stop the ache I gave you hm?”

He luridly suckled your essence off those ringed fingers, moaning deep in his chest. Aegon pushed you forward, freeing his swollen cock from its confines, slapping the wet tip against your ass. He growled, “Hold your damn dress up,” he aligned himself with your soaked entrance, “I asked you a fucking question, dumb little lamb.”

Shaking your head once again, you sobbed out, “No— no! It’s only ever been you Aegon!” You shrieked in the sudden and rude entrance of his cock, stuffing your unused cunt in the worst kind of pleasure. The blonde stiffened and his hands shook at your hips, breath at a staccato pace. His voice, softer, murmured, “I- I can tell lamb, but you only address me ahh-as your king.”

He pressed a sweet kiss to your flaming cheek when you simpered, “Yes my King.”

Your cunt ached and pulled at Aegon’s cock, body alight with pleasure after so long. Closing your eyes, spilling more tears onto your heaving breasts, you begged for more. He snorted, “Get to it then lamb, show me how you used to ride.” He maneuvered your legs up jerkily, stiff prick throbbing deep inside.

Grabbing onto Aegon’s fine breeches, eyes darting fearfully to the blades so very close to your thighs, you picked up your hips in a slow drag. The king moaned in delight, gasping when you sank back down onto him with a filthy wet noise. It would only get worse.

Again and again you bobbed up and down his thick length, mewling and trying to hold down your sobs. Some of the goldcloaks watched with poorly concealed desire, the Kingsguard even taking peaks. Oh Seven above, you thought, you had become no better than those brothel whores.

Aegon finally began to fuck back, driving deep when your ass came down to meet his hips, drawing utterly shameless cries from your throat. He grabbed your throat and jerked you back, eliciting coughing and a choked sob. He licked up a trail of hot tears, groaning your true name deeply, squeezing at your tender neck. Brutally he forced himself harder and harder, a wicked burning sensation licking up your belly, your swollen pearl throbbing frantically.

You sobbed and squirmed, assaulted by all the emotions and sensations, the lack of blood flow to your head exacerbating the situation. Whimpering thinly, you pled, “Aegon, oh please- my king, I! B-be gentler!” He stilled his hips and stopped, throwing everything off center again.

The man’s lips pouted as he drawled, “You agreed to take my pain away from me lamb.” All you could do was stare with wide eyes, the picture of a scared little sacrificial sheep. Ready to have her blood smeared and sprayed all over. Aegon’s brow furrowed as he continued, “Remember when I took your maidenhead? How lovely you sang, you said you loved me.”

Eerie silence laid stagnant.

“You love me do you not lamb?,” his haunted eyes seemed to the ceremonial dagger, slicing you open for the gods and all to see.

“I love you, I always have.”

“Then hush and take my cock, I’ll spoil you later.” Back to fucking and choking he went, harder now, panting harshly through bared teeth. The noises of your coupling rose and rose to a fever pitch. His deep moans were pitching, rambling nonsense into the sweaty nape of your neck.

You were bent forward to his mercy, crying out on every deep thrust of his leaking prick. Aegon closed in on your neck, tilting you so to desperately mash his puffy lips against yours. He dominated the kiss as you fought for breath, writhing and convulsing. The fire was back in your belly, spreading upward and outward. Your former lighthearted prince ushered, “C’mon my lamb, my pretty little hole, wet your king’s cock.”

He let go of your throat to pinch at your swollen bud, the influx of air and stimulation making you see white. Hot hot white. There was the register of your howl and violent spasms, pleasure overtaking everything. You could distantly hear Aegon’s grunts and feel the inevitable load splattering the back of your once pristine dress. Imagination or not you could swear the blonde whisper, “I love you too.”

It seemed as you floated for a hours, minutes, seconds. Eventually blinking enough to see the open-mouthed guards and desolate throne room. You laid back against again, panting whilst the King seemed to be smugly preening. He spoke slowly, as if you were a dolt, “Do you need me to lace you up? Seemed I fucked any rhyme or reason out of you.”

“Please,” you sulked. Guilt and shame and remorse and love sickening filthy syrupy love crashing down. Aegon laced your tits back up and called to one of the Kingsguard, “Take the lovely lamb back to her quarters, you can open court now Lord Commander.” Criston’s dark eyes regarded you with revulsion at the doors of the throne room, the other knight escorting you on coltish legs.

You kept your head and eyes down being led away, the murmuring and gasps of the obviously defiled Lady Stokeworth circling around. While the queen mourned, her own trusted lady-in-waiting was off sating her husbands ravenous appetite. Bile rose up to your throat. You sat in Aegon’s darkened quarters, snapping at a maid to draw a bath.

Atleast you could hide from your shame in here. He seemed to care for you still after all. Even if he sought to make you just as defiled and twisted as he. You stared out the window facing the Blackwater, contemplating your fate. Long live King Aegon, second of his name.

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