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occamstfs · 2 days

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Roommates’ Trivial Tiff

Pretty standard nerdy asshole to himbo TF, who doesn't love some cosmic justice ! -Occam

“You just don’t understand what it’s like dude. You have no idea how hard all this stuff is for me.” Brock was struggling to get through to his roommate, someone he has time and time again been more than cordial with. In response Harvey scoffs and rolls his eyes refusing to engage and instead doubling down, “I’m sure it’s real difficult with all your paid tutors and your-”

“You’re not even listening bro! You like to think you’re so elevated, like you have all the answers but you don’t even try to understand what anyone else is going through.” Harvey grimaces and briefly tosses about whether or not this is true but stubbornly neglects to internalize the criticism, “Uhh, I do too?” Brock bites his tongue to prevent just blowing up at his roommate and instead he tries a different angle, “Oh yeah? If that’s the case then, bet you know a lot about me huh? Since we’ve been roommates for a year now,” pausing as he narrows his eyes briefly at Harvey, “and ostensibly we’re friends right?”

Harvey struggles not to display his ever present irritation as he retorts, “Of course we are, uh, dude.” Brock does a better job hiding his intentions as he issues a challenge, “so if we were to say, quiz each other you think you’d come up on top lil dude?” With this gauntlet laid there is little recourse in Harvey’s mind but to accept it, there are few times he enjoys showing off so much as in a trivia contest. So what he might have a less than pristine record of respecting oafs like his roommate, he is certainly not to lose in any battle of the wits regardless of topic or stipulations there may be.

Brock puts out his hand and states the stakes, “You can of course bow out whenever, but uh, how about every question the winner takes something from the loser?” Harvey was resolved to win before hearing the terms and is now spitefully even more eager now as he eyes Brock’s side of the room looking for whatever his prize is sure to be.

Without any further clarification Brock promptly launches into the game, “I guess we’ll start real easy yeah? Only fair.” Harvey feels resentment start to brew as he feels he’s being talked down to as Brock goes on, “For starters then, What’s my major?” Harvey audibly gulps and feels his face blanche as he scrambles to find such an incredibly simple answer. This is such an obvious and pressing piece of information it would be impossible not to have it on deck.

Seeing the hesitation Brock laughs incredulously, “God dude are you kidding? How could you not know this, I-” He shifts his jaw waiting for the second shoe to drop as it is suddenly clear he is about to clean house, this asshole is going to learn respect by hook or by crook. Harvey’s eyes that were just hungrily looking through Brock’s possessions now retread their path, searching for the answer, his eyes linger on some sports bandages and protein powder and he kicks himself for forgetting. “Well duh dude, you’re doing a sports medicine or a trainer degree or whatever. Sorry that I forgot what the proper name is, it’s not exactly high in the list of things I need to know.”

Brock stares down at the clueless nerd before him and slowly shakes his head. “Not even close Harv. It’s-” Before he can finish though Harvey stands and shouts, “Don’t fucking call me that! I bet you don’t know mine either!” This leaves Brock aghast, he crosses his arms and narrows his eyes, “Of course I fucking do! You never shut up about it! I’m lucky if my headphones can block out you whining about homework while also constantly talking yourself up! It’s so, fucking, annoying!”

Hurt by this despite his typical apathy to others Harvey starts up once more, “Okay but you didn’t say-” “Computer Engineering.” Harvey blushes in shame, not over his disrespect but of getting the question wrong. Suddenly there’s a hum in the room and the shadows in the corner grow darker and Brock looks around, “Well I suppose that question really tees me up on what to take huh? I’ll take your major.”

“Wha?” caught on the other foot Harvey blinks and sees that his textbooks and assignments are suddenly piled on Brock’s desk. He feels anxiety rise in his chest unsure of what has happened though confident this must be a prank or something. “No no no that can’t be right? What is happening?” He then returns to look at his roommate once more, a scowl plastered on his face as Brock who, despite his impressive stature always aims to present as kind and gentle, cannot help but smirk as he feels he has gotten one over on this jerk.

He stretches, exposing his midriff and flexing his arms behind his head, perhaps to try and allure or intimidate Harvey, he’s not sure, but Harvey is not going to just take this sitting down.Though at the present, he is too uncomfortable to even vocalize his discomfort as he stands there trying not to shake. Instead Brock begins once more, “Urgh kinda see what all that complaining was about now Harv, kinda got a lot on my plate now hah!”

Harvey stares daggers at his roommate, “Brock I don’t know what kind of nonsense is going through your dumbass ox brain. But it’s not funny, I’m sure you’re used to bullying little g-”

“Excuse me? I’m a bully!? I know you’re not saying that, I go out of my way to be kind, even to little chip on their shoulder assholes like you. I just,” Brock takes a deep breath and flexes his jaw before he continues. “It doesn’t matter actually. I trust you have a vested interest in trying again though right? Surely you want your major back?”

At the moment Harvey is caught between the idea that this is some kind of Christmas Carol-ass dream where he’s supposed to learn a lesson or once more that this is just a prank by Brock. Amenable as he’s always been, Harvey's convinced that behind this lunkhead is the vitriol of the typical jerk jock. In this impossible chance that this is reality though, he can’t just give up his major. He needs it to be an, uh? God what was, no what is his major anyway?

Harvey looks around in shock as he suddenly can’t bring his current course schedule to his mind, but he was literally in class this morning right? He feels his coursework draining from his mind as fear and rage begin to rise in his frail body. Images of lecture halls and professors flash through his mind before they just as swiftly dissipate, somewhere within him deeper than memory he feels that he was studying something with numbers. Mathematics, physics, engineering, something he was good at. He is determined to get that back as he speaks up finally, “What is the next question.”

Brock smiles and toys around in his head, confident that he will end up on top. “How about you pick this one, give you a fighting chance.” Harvey purses his lips and struggles to produce a question that he knows the answer to that his roommate will not. Oh duh, he’ll just ask him a math question, easy! Certainly not the aim of the game but Harvey just needed to get his life back. “What’s a derivative.”

“Kinda not in the spirit of the game dude but whatever. I took calc you know. It’s the rate of change in response to a variable. Now since you’re still being an ass how about I lob one back? How about you derivative 𝑓(𝑥)= 2cos⁡(𝑥)−6sec⁡(𝑥)+3?” Harvey is flat stunned, this is some entry level shit but he cannot for the life of him bring the information to mind. He’s just as sharp as he always has been but anything beyond rudimentary trig is continuing to trickle out of his mind. He meekly chuckles out, “uh easy, it’s f(x) equals, uh tan-”

There’s a blaring in his head as both men are aware of his immediate slip up. Energy once more rises in the air as Brock looks down almost pitifully at his roommate this time. “Now I am sorry for this Harvey but, oof that course load! Like you so relish to say, I am just not that bright hm?” Harvey shakes his head as he realizes the horror about to occur. Brock looks a little uncomfortable as he continues, “After failing to pull your little gotcha, I think I’ll just go ahead and have your intelligence.”

Both men are instantly struck with headaches the likes of which neither could endure under normal circumstances. As soon as the pain arrives though it is converted into a deep profane pleasure. Pins and needles fill Brock’s mind as it becomes heavy. Ideas and understanding fill his mind as a euphoric warmth flows through him. Harvey had enjoyed learning without truly lifting a finger, he had flourished and gained knowledge through no effort on his part but simple absorption. Brock is overcome with the ease at which he will now flow through life. Equally is he overcome by the ecstasy within his body as it only continues to heighten.

Opposite him Harvey clutches at his head as now not only do his learned experiences at university vanish, but all of his capabilities as a student and academic. Even the pleading within his mind slows down as he feels his ability to swiftly process information breaks down. Harvey turns from the man across from him as Brock’s hands feel up and down his musculature in rapturous delight, just in time to see whatever books and tomes he had collected as trophies begin to fade into the aether along with his memories of reading them. He looks down at his hands in confusion and horror, even with his unaddled mind at full steam he could not make sense of what has befallen him. He knows this is not right.

He is unable to find any answers, though as he searches his brain he begins to find a pleasant warmth in the vacuum where there once was knowledge. While his mind has been emptied, the bulge in his crotch demands his attention, which shall likely be a constant issue now that his mind shall evermore be less than preoccupied. He feels his mouth start to fill with drool as he looks down at his cock as it almost feels larger than it should be. He almost laughs at the idea that from now on he may fully be thinking with his cock. He opens his mouth allowing drool to spill out which shocks him back to sense and he turns around to demand that Brock return this all to sense immediately.

Brock for his part is reclined in a chair just rubbing his cock over his shorts almost forgetting about what they had been doing not seconds earlier. He laughs as he sees the expression on Harvey’s face, “Woah dude sorry about that, got lost in my own mind for a second there! No wonder you had, or have rather, such an attitude problem. It all just came so easy to you didn’t it? I mean we could keep going if you want, what else do you have to lose yeah?” Harvey wipes the drool from his face and takes stock, he can still read, he is pretty confident he still passed high school, he remembers his life before whatever hell is currently happening as well as whatever this new reality is. He nods his head and pushes his erection down as it continues to rise upon seeing his roommate’s cocky repose. He answers, “let’s keep going. Your question right?”

Harvey can’t help but trace Brock’s traps as he shrugs, “If you insist lil bro. What’s my middle name?” He knows this one for sure, he would bring it out to tease his roommate as needed. Brock slams his arm down in excitement and shouts, “fucking Laurel!” then he recalls this is only half the battle, Brock must also get his wrong, “what’s mine?” Brock smirks once more and laughs as he stretches to scratch his back, his roommate hungrily staring, “you don’t have one dude”

The energy rushing between the two men is drastically different this time. Unlike the pleasurable prickles of knowledge or the soothing burn of loss there is a direct, deeper connection between the two. Brock’s grin grows wider as understands, “Oh I getcha, question’s a tie so we share the spoils Harv. Only fair that since you’ve the mind of a what, meathead? May as well have the body of one.”

Harvey watches as his roommate takes off his shirt, he feels a warmth in his chest as he stares directly at Brock’s pecs. His breath catches as he watches his roommate flex them and he feels a nervous energy begin to surge within his own. He’s never had pecs before but he feels his chest pushing, growing, into his shirt. He sees his nipples harden and grow too large to ever hide as his chest expands. His swallows to stop from drooling once more as he sees Brock pose and flex his massive biceps, forcing a burning delight down the whole of Harvey’s arms. He matches the pose of the powerful man he has spoken nothing but ill of and flexes, sweat immediately staining through his shirt as the energy and strain heats his body beyond reason.

At the same time both men drop into a crunch, there is a loud tear as the pants of both men tear as they reach the lowest point in the crunch as Harvey’s ass bursts larger and his thighs swell with strength well enough to carry his increasingly top heavy torso. Not only is Harvey to gain the muscle of a tight jock, but the masculinity expected. The cock he has been til now proud enough of pulses with his heartbeat, with each pump it gorges larger, veins thick as the ones surging down his biceps force his cock thicker and further down his strained shorts. He tears at his pants to free his bulge as his balls bloat to the size of eggs, they pull tight ass they’re exposed to the air and all the soreness, strain, and pain of his still growing body becomes agonizing delight.

Harvey’s eyes water as he struggles to even stay cogent with the pleasure and power coursing through him. He smells his new musk breaking through his senses. Through the burning bedlam across his body he feels a soothing burn as hair begins to sprout and thicken where every man should make clear his masculinity. His pubes thicken and curl beyond his waistline and his pits grow wild and begin to spread to make it clear they, nor his musk, can ever be contained.

He lies, sits, writhes, flexes, exists in nothing but pleasure for some time, no longer concerned for his lost intelligence, beyond the care of his education. His hands, larger and painted with still thickening hair, press tight against his body as he feels the new contours of his body. Each new valley and mountain is a testament to the ecstasy he shall now prioritize above all. Until his roommate’s voice breaks through the haze, “Fuck bro you’re really feeling yourself huh?” Harvey’s eyes open to see Brock’s arrogant sneer has only grown worse as he has contendly watch Harvey lavish his new corpus.

Harvey meets it with a scowl and Brock tilts his head, “Want to do one last question then, bro?” His smile grows tight as he tries not to laugh as the appellation of bro has become the paramount definition of this once genius. Harvey just nods his head, still understandably disoriented as he lies in a pool of his own sweat and pre that remains dripping directly onto the floor. Brock motions for him to ask whatever the presumably final question is but is met with a grunt and a wave of the hand. Brock grimaces slightly, “if you insist bud,” he grimaces slightly as he looks down at the man. Asshole he may have be, may still be even, surely there’s something Brock could do to fix even that. He leans to whisper the question in Harvey’s ear, “what color are my eyes.”

Between grunts, Harvey strains to look at his roommate only to find them obviously closed. His body contorts with pain and pleasure as he feels the throes of defeat and one final lose begin to seize him. He groans out through clenched teeth as his jaw widens and his brows thicken as changes already begin to work upon his mind, “don’t… know…” Brock nods and sits next to his roommate laying Harvey’s head on his lap. At the point it would be a kindness for the man to forget his life before, and that is exactly what he is to do.

Brock removes the memories and identity of the sour nerd that made life perpetually unpleasant not only for him, but anyone unlucky enough to grace his presence. His breathing speeds up as his body heat rises beyond imagination, sweat turning to steam in the cold dorm room as he shakes his head and clenches his fists. He writhes only briefly, each flex of his body a final protestation of Harvey as Brock erases even his name from his head.

After a minute of this his body goes still before he opens his eyes blearily and groans. Still lying in Brock’s lap he stretches his arms, turning to smell his impossibly rank pits before turning it into a flex as he must do anytime he raises them. Brock watches this with trepidation, unsure of who exactly his roommate is to be now before suddenly a name surges into his mind, Bull. Perfect fodder for the jerk he once was and an apt name for the behemoth lying on his lap. Testing the waters Brock pats his chest to wake him up, “Morning Bull.”

He yawns and scratches at the same stubbled face he has always known and he sits up, “urgh got a massive headache bro, must have gone pretty hard to have a hangover this bad huhuh! Wanna go grab brekkie and hit up the gym?” Brock stifles a smirk and helps his roommate up to standing, slightly surprised to see him standing taller than himself before responding, “You got it big guy, how about you get some clothes on first though right?” Bull guffaws, looking down at his hairy sweat-drenched body as he throws an arm around his roommate, cock bobbing around in the open air, still chubbed up. “What would I do without you bro huhuh!”

Brock looks to see all of Bull’s tops have changed to stringers and tanks. Where Harvey had nothing but pants Bull has piles of unwashed athletic shorts, one of which he promptly throws on, going commando. Seeing Brock watch him, Bull grabs at his crotch and juts at the door, “Come on bro! Faster we get a pump in faster we can get back here and have some fun dude.”

With that Bull again throws his arm around Brock, once more smelling his b.o. as he almost deliberately spreads it on his roommate’s neck, like an animal marking its territory. The two then off to start their day, in Bull’s mind as they always have. Brock feels his crotch grow weightier as the amble down the hall, unsure if he’s made a horrible mistake in all this. Who is he to say what is too far in acts of cosmic retribution. Brock is certain at the end of the day he and Bull are at least to have quite a bit of fun.

#male tf #mental change #masculinization #jockification #himbofication #hair growth #nerd to jock #muscle tf

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shadow4-1 · 2 days

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I just finished reading most of your works here and i love them. If the reader touched 141 first and it made them attached to us, what about 141 tried to seek any simple physical contact/presence from us? Brushing strand of hair? Braiding/tying reader's hair? A slight touch on cheek? A tiny flick on forehead? Whatever that makes them sure they can feel your presence around them

Oh yes, I really enjoyed making that post!

Here's a few little moments between you and the 141 that makes you think about your relationships with each of them:

You think that maybe Soap has gotten too comfortable with your friendship when he starts eating and drinking after you. He's not a germaphobe, but you know him well enough that you've never seen him eat off of anyone's plate. You remember asking him about it months ago too. He said it was rude...so why has he been asking to have a sip of your Coke? Or taking bites of your sandwich when he thinks you aren't looking? You chalk it up to him just messing with you.

You think that maybe Gaz has finally loosened up a bit around you. He's always so uptight and straight-laced, even around Soap too. But he drags you along to get into some quiet mischief. Like stealing some of Price's cigars (he pins the blame it on Soap) or sneaking up to the roof to see the stars. It kind of feels like he's actually acting his age when he's around you and well...it's nice.

You think that maybe Ghost has finally started to accept you when he starts slipping little things into your packs. At first you don't even notice it, but it isn't until you see him do it do you question him on it. He gripes that you're always forgetting things but...you know better. Your pocket knife has never been sharper and you never seem to run out of your favorite gum.

You think that maybe Price is a bit more protective over you than the rest of the guys. You suppose it makes sense, but some of his rules catch you off-guard. You're not allowed to shower unless you tell him you're going to. You're not allowed to walk certain wings of the base unaccompanied by either him or Ghost. You're not allowed to go out on Liberty by yourself either. When you try to question him on it he blames it on the bad behavior of the 141's previous medics, except...you're pretty sure they've never even had one before you. You chalk it up to him just being fatherly. After all, you've seen the pictures of both you and Gaz that he keeps in his wallet.

#call of duty #cod imagines #mw2 #mw2 headcanons #cod mwii #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #captain price #kyle gaz garrick

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moonstruckme · 1 day

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hi mae!! how are you?

i recently burned my thigh with my iron curler and it formed a big scar. it started slowly bubbling up and i accidentally popped it like 2 days ago so now i have fresh skin open 🥲 it’s extra sensitive and i have to patch it up. and when i let the wound breath it HURTS 😭

i was wondering if you could write about this with emt!marauders? or maybe just james? idk lol whatever you feel like writing it about.

AND IF YOUVE WRITTEN ABOUT THIS ALREADY, MY BAD 😃😭

Hi lovely, I'm good! I'm really sorry this happened, it sounds awful!! Hope it's feeling a bit better by now <3

cw: severe burn (no details)

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 786 words

“I don’t think we should do this.”

“I mean,” says James, sitting patiently opposite you on the bed, “I don’t love it either.”

“Then let’s not,” you bargain.

He gives you a sorry smile. “What do you think we should do instead, angel?”

You take a deep breath. “Leave it,” you say on the exhale. “It’ll heal eventually. Or it won’t, and the bandage will become my new skin. I could be fine with that.”

“I’m somewhat attached to your real skin.”

“We all have to make sacrifices, James.”

Your boyfriend gives you an amused look, but there’s worry beneath it. You feel guilty for putting him through this. It’s bad enough that he has to change your bandages for you because you’re too squeamish to do it yourself, but now you’re also making him convince you as if it were his idea.

You blow out a long breath, tilting your face up toward the ceiling. “I can’t see it.”

“You don’t have to,” he reassures you. “You can close your eyes, baby.”

“How bad is a little infection really?” you ask, but you’re already laying back, succumbing to the plushness of your pillow.

“I had a dog bite get infected once,” James says, pulling your leg into his lap. Strong, gentle fingers on the underside of your thigh. “I didn’t enjoy it.”

“You got bitten by a dog?” You turn your head to see him, but he shoots you a look and you sigh, covering your eyes with your hands. “When was that?”

“When I was little.” One of his hands stays cradling your leg, but you feel the fingers of the other probing carefully at the edges of your bandage. Apprehension climbs up your throat, mingling with the ache of affection that’s already there. You appreciate how delicate James is with you, peeling the bandage up gingerly by one corner instead of ripping it off like some might. “It wasn’t really the dog’s fault, it was just spooked and I didn’t know enough to stay away.”

You hiss as the bandage sticks to a tender bit of skin, and James coos an apology, stroking the unharmed skin beside it soothingly. Then the whole thing comes off, air hitting the wound and making you tense all over.

“What happened with the bite?” Your voice is somewhat strained.

James hesitates. “There was a lot of puss involved,” he says. “You won’t want to hear the details.”

“Mm, thanks.”

He chuckles. You can hear him twisting the cap off the antibiotic ointment. Your fingertips press harder into your brow bone.

“You alright?” he asks softly.

“Mhm. I’m ready.”

You still gasp through your teeth when the ointment makes contact with your skin, and James grips your leg more firmly to keep you from flinching away.

“Sorry,” he hisses, working fast as he can with gentle, caring fingers. “Sorry, baby.”

“Not your fault,” you squeak out, keeping your own fingers pressed tightly over your eyes. “Thank you for doing this.”

James doesn’t seem to want to accept your thanks, and you let the silence sit. When he’s done, you both sigh.

“Thanks,” you say again. For good measure. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Definitely not,” James agrees. “I’ve no idea what we’re going to do when I’m hurt someday and neither of us can look at it.”

You drop your hands from your eyes and sit up on your elbows, careful to look only at James and not down at your leg. It’s not hard. He’s a lovely sight, even with that sympathetic pinch to his mouth and worry tightening the muscles around his eyes. You reach for his hand, and his expression lightens. He wipes his fingertips off on his jeans before giving it to you.

“We’ll have to call Remus,” you say, squeezing his fingers.

A laugh startles out of him. “I thought you were going to say you’d put your squeamishness aside for me. Or that it wouldn’t be gross because you love me, or something.”

“I would if it were true,” you reply, “but I’m afraid I won’t be much help if I’m gagging over you the entire time. I’ll hold your hand while we both don’t look, though.”

“Mm, fair enough.” He scoots closer on the bed. His hand finds your opposite hip, rubbing a slow back-and-forth. “And you’ll distract me with kisses while I’m nursed back to health?”

“If it’ll help.” Your voice is soft. “Though I should point out that I haven’t received any kisses.”

Twin dimples appear on either side of James mouth as he leans over you, careful to avoid your hurt leg. “Patience, angel,” he murmurs as his lips brush yours. “I’m not done with you yet.”

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squishycheekanon · 20 hours

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Okay but can we just talk about run away bride reader and soft dark John price.

Your poor fiancé is stood there like what has he done wrong? And that’s the problem, not a damn thing but there’s this gorgeous burly man double your age that’s wormed his way into your heart and between your legs. For weeks he’s been attacking your pussy with his addictingly greedy mouth, it really was an accident. Your bachelorette party had ended with you being black out drunk, your ‘friends’ had left you at whatever club you had been at to move onto the next one when John found you. You could barely sting two words together when he asked you where you lived after carrying you into his jeep, he didn’t know what to do but he couldn’t leave you at that club and Simon was too busy making it with some woman inside, he wanted to go home. Honestly taking you home with him started off entirely innocent but once he go you back to his place and a little bit of water in you, you had began to open up to this stranger about your life. How you were getting married in three weeks and you were scared out of your mind to be married to this guy you’d been with for three years all because of one thing; he had never made you cum.

You explained to the beefy man with a canal glint in his darkened blue eyes in front you that you’d tried everything. At first you faked your orgasms out of courtesy and kindness. Then the emotional and physical toll was too much and you ended up confessing to him. He didn’t take it too well at first but then he asked you to show him how to be better. This really made you happy, he accepted the issue and wanted to fix it. So you showed him in every way that he could, your fingers and your toys and he really looked like he was taking it all in.

Then he took over and any progress you had made building up this wonderful climax completely shattered as he rubbed the wrong place and pushed all the toys off the bed looking offended by them. You even moved in an attempt to slip his fingers onto your clit….and he…he fucking moved them away. You remember the way your eyes stung with tears of frustration, the way your heart ached with want and need. How you felt so used when he had sex with you, he mumbled that he had urned his reward after rubbing you in the wrong spot for five minutes. You remember how you cried in the shower while he slept. And you in your drunken state told John all of this. By the time you were done he looked dangerous and rigid. He knew there were guys out there that didn’t know much about the female body but he couldn’t believe that some cunt had done that to you and by the sounds of it continued to do it for years on end. You were so beautiful, how could that guy not even bother to take the time to learn your body. To commit your wants and needs to memory. That’s how you ended up on your back naked with John kneeling at the edge of the bed face to face with your dripping pussy. John did think about it and maybe if he were a nicer guy he would care that you weren’t sober, maybe he would care that you were engaged but you just looked so sad and he couldn't let a sweet little thing like you go your entire life only giving yourself an orgasm.

His head lulls to the side, his cheek smushing against the inside of your thigh “Such a pretty cunt.” He sighs, the tip of his finger spelling out his name on your clit. His piercing eyes meet yours and your breath gets caught in your throat, the lust swirling in his dark eyes is so enticing. Plus the way he’s on his knees for you, you wouldn’t ever get tired of seeing it.

Your clit pulses erratically anticipating his next move. It’s quick and it makes you jump but then you’re whining into the air, because how can you not when he’s sucking you into his mouth like a starved man. Your body burns with pleasure but it’s oh so delicious his tongue working wonders on your cunt.

“Please-“ you pause, somewhere in your haziness you realise you don’t know whose name you should be calling out, he pulls off you with a soft pop. “John.” “Please John.”

“No flower. You can wait, I’m gonna enjoy this cunt and you’re gonna lay there and take it.” He scowls, placing sloppy kisses up your thigh. “If I have to tie you to this bed, I fucking will.” His lips smack together as his eyes leave yours once more, the pad of his thumb sliding through your folds. “Your pussy is already dripping flower, I’m gonna make you gush.” He grunts leaning forward pressing his nose against you with a sharp inhale. He can’t ever get enough of you.

John looks up his cerulean eyes finding yours at the exact moment his mouth latches onto you once more. It feels so good it hurts, the heat from his mouth has you twisting and squirming. His right hand moves up reaching until they touch your lips, a quick tap against them and you open just enough for him to slip his fingers inside. A muffled ‘suck’ has you closing your lips around them, getting them nice and wet.

He groans against your wet heat images of you sucking his cock the way you’re sucking his fingers floating through his mind. You sob, your body starting to shake when he pushes two thick fingers inside you, the intrusion making you gasp. They rub along your velvety walls bringing a new wave of pleasure, the feeling builds becoming more intense with every thrust.

His tongue laps at your clit while he searches and searches until you squeal “There it is”, he finds exactly what he was looking for striking the spot over and over again watching your back arch off the bed. A ‘fuck yeah sweetheart’ slipping out when you gush all over his hand.

You excepted him to move away, to release your pussy from his torturous mouth but he doesn’t. The bastard stays put the tip of his tongue flicking against you, the sensitivity pulling whines and whimpers from you….you think it was six, no seven definitely seven orgasms, heck you lost count after the third. Your body tired but fuck did you need his cock more than anything. You lay on your side gripping the sheets so tightly as John slides in behind you, his arms pulling you taut against him as you mewl into the air.

“I know flower I know you just have to let me in is all, nothing more.” He strokes your hair moving it out the way so he can press his cheek to yours, it’s so intimate and sweet. And yet when he lifts up your left leg, bending it at the knee so he can slip his ridged veiny shaft inside your tight cunt. You feel the sweet sweet burn of the orgasmic stretch that you never thought you’d feel in your life.

You just about manage to make out the time on the clock before your vision blurs and tears streak down your cheeks meeting the dried ones that had already fallen earlier with your over sensitivity. He feels so fucking good, with each thrust you’re pushed closer to the edge. Your moans and his mixing together in the late evening air, his pace building dramatically, becoming more and more intense the longer he fucks you. It’s brutish, rough and bare. Yet loving and gentle.

“Yes right there don’t stop!” His swollen tip glides over the spot inside you, your body goes still and you can’t do anything except let it happen. And you do, you let the tsunami of pleasure crash into you almost painfully, it pumps through your veins absolutely demolishing what’s left of your energy. You’re barely awake when warmth blooms inside you a deep moan rumbling against your cheek.

“Fuck baby.” He groans softly pulling the sheets over your body, shielding you from the cold breeze that was drifting into your beautiful moment. A kiss to the top of your head and you’re out like a light unaware of the large hand rubbing at your tummy, the sky completely dark now, unaware of the thoughts bubbling in John’s head as he watches your chest rise up and down. The next morning he consoles you as you freak out, you had just cheated and if that wasn’t killing you, the pain in your head was. He listened to you rant and panic while he cooked you breakfast, a small smirk pulling at his lips when you slump down at the table and eat everything on your plate. You leave after he sweetly promises not to tell anybody about what happened. But he insisted on having your phone number yanno in case of emergencies. You don’t think much of it until he starts calling you, a lot.

“I just thought what harm could come from one little call,” he says coyly, ignoring you when you protest he must stop, “I know you say you're taken but I say girl you're takin' too long to tell him that it's over. Then bring it on over, stringing him along any longer flower is just wasting precious time.” You don’t know what to say to him, your words caught it your throat as he takes the silence as an opportunity to continue.

“Sweetheart you know it can't wait, rip it off just like a Band-Aid. The way you look at me, girl, you can't pretend I know you ain't in love with him break up with him.” He pleads, you don’t break up with your fiancé but you do end up back at John’s house, Price’s head between your thighs licking and slurping at your pussy.

He calls you again the next night with the same speech as last time, “I know, you don't wanna break his heart but that ain't no good reason to be keeping us apart. Look, just tell him it's you, it ain't him and maybe you can lie to him and say you'll still be friends.” He scoffs with a smirk at the idea placing his phone down on the kitchen counter on speaker.

“Whatever you got to say to get through to him that you ain't in love. C'mon you can't deny that you and I kinda fit like a glove. It ain't my business to be all up in but I know you ain't in love with him break up with him. I know that you’re so done with him break up with him.” He groans out and once again he convinces you to come over and let him have his dirty way with you.

Weeks of this back on forth go by and finally it’s the eve of your wedding day, “You would've hung up by now if you weren't thinking it too. No pressure whatever just do what you gotta do. But if I was you I'd tell him that it's over then bring it on over stringing him along any longer is just wasting precious time. Flower you know it can't wait. Just rip it off just like a Band-Aid Yeah, I know I said it but I'll say it again. I know you ain't in love with him. Break up with him. The way you look at me girl you can't pretend. I know you ain't in love with him. Just break up with him.”

You don’t break up with him but you’re sure he’s gotten the hint when you run from the church, fists clenched tightly around the material of your wedding dress so your legs can move faster. You arrive at John’s house and he grins when he opens the door.

Grabbing his coat off the hook he closes the door behind him before grabbing your hand and helping you into his jeep. “John, where are we going?”

“You’re already in your wedding dress flower, why waste the opportunity. There’s a little chapel just down the road.”

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cb97percent · 2 days

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Aphrodisiacs · 「Sex Gratia」

➥ Boss!Minho x Girlboss Employee!Reader (f) — 2.6k

➥ The author chooses not to issue tags for everything that takes place in this work to preserve some element of surprise where applicable. By continuing, you accept to proceed at your own risk. Read full disclaimer here.

⚠ — Quid pro quo, morally corrupt characters.

➥ Your boss has never really doubted your skills, but he does think you’re so fucking hot when you’re angry.

The world of investment banking may have been cutthroat, but so were you.

You worked hard, for sure. You worked your ass off just to break the legs of the high horses these scotch-drinking, steak-eating, country club-frequenting smug motherfuckers were sitting on. To rub it in their faces that not only could a woman make it in their world, but also she could do it better than them. That being said, in order to get what they got, you had to play by their rules.

You didn’t end up where you were by making friends and being a vanilla goodie-two-shoes, which meant your understanding of professional ethics and morals loosened up over time like pants after Thanksgiving. So what if several hundred dollar bills appeared on some notary’s desk? So what if a little flirtation occurred during a negotiation lunch? All that mattered to your boss was that shit got done. He was actually very encouraging of your little misdemeanors as long as you brought those millions to your firm, and like the employee of the month you were, you listened to him.

It had nothing to do with the fact that he was hot as fuck.

Lee Minho was the youngest associate that ever made partner, and you may have been heavily thirsting behind his back ever since he stepped foot in here, much like the entire floor he was commanding. His sex appeal reached beyond his mesmerizing looks—it was the way he carried himself. The serious, mysterious aura around him, his brief manner of speaking, and the way he took no shit from people… He would cock a single brow when he was annoyed at somebody, and you would feel yourself get physically wet.

The power he held, jesus…

Nevertheless, you never made it obvious to him how weak he got you in the knees. If anything, you looked so convincingly unfazed by his presence that Minho wasn’t able to figure out why you weren’t throwing yourself at him like the literal rest of the company.

You knew it was annoying him a bit because his flirting was getting gradually aggressive with you, and this had become your singular source of entertainment lately.

Workplace seduction meant class. You would never be like one of those regular bitches openly salivating right in front of his face and stroke his already massive ego. He was going to get on his knees for you, or you didn’t want it at all.

And things were going pretty much on your terms until all the unholy thoughts you had about him turned into pure murderous intent with a company-wide email blast.

REF: Division 25 Appointment Starting October 1, Jennifer Pratt will serve as the new Division 25 head. Please fill out the form linked below for organizational flowchart restructuring.

Your blood went freezing cold before it turned into molten lava in your veins.

Division… 25… Your division… that you had been… waiting… for a promotion… to be the head of…

Who the absolute fuck was this Jennifer cunt anyway?! Was this one of Lee Minho’s side pieces? How come you had never heard of this person before? Was he fucking blind to your track record?

“Oh, hell to the fucking no.”

You immediately jumped from your desk, fuming out of your ears and ready to throw hands, and stormed into your boss’ office, not giving a single fuck about what he was doing inside. He could be talking to world leaders for all you fucking cared. Minho looked up from his laptop when his door banged open and witnessed his associate panting through her nose.

“By all means, you didn’t need to knock,” he put his pen down and held your gaze with sheer displeasure on his face.

“Mr. Lee, I’m so sorry!” his secretary dashed after you utterly apologetic, “I tried to tell her—”

“It’s okay, Yun. Please close the door and lock it from the outside,” he instructed in a dangerously calm tone. You didn’t even wait for the door to be fully closed before you started your confrontation.

“Can I have a fucking word with you?”

“You already are,” he reclined in his leather chair.

“Let’s cut the bullshit, shall we, Mr. Lee?” you approached his desk and slammed your hands on it, “I want an explanation.”

“Since when do I provide explanations to you?”

“Since you took my goddamn promotion away from me,” you spat, not even paying any mind that he could, in fact, fire you on the spot, “You know how high my billables are. I’m the reason you moved into your ridiculously expensive condo!”

A very brief silence followed after your blaring declaration. All Minho did was raise his brows and break into the faintest of smiles.

“Didn’t know you were interested in my personal life to that extent,” he tilted his head and clasped his hands on his lap.

Busted.

Why the heck would you even bring that up? Now he was going to have ideas that weren’t exactly false, especially with your ‘unaffected’ façade loudly cracking.

“It’s not exactly classified information,” you stood tall on your feet, suddenly much calmer than your initial rampage, “Everybody’s talking about that.”

“Are you?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“Fine,” he crossed his legs into a more comfortable position, “How far are you willing to go for your promotion?”

“Excuse you?”

“If you want something from me, you need to give me something in return,” Minho shrugged, “How far are you willing to take it?”

It was at that moment that you knew you lost. Months of dragging him through hell, teasing him, verbally or accidentally physically, just to get him to kneel for you, but now he had the upper hand. On his face, there was the exact same smile you flashed him every time you scored a goal against him. You could either say fuck you and walk out, throwing everything you had ever worked for into the trash, or you could accept defeat and hand over this promotion to some cunt.

But there was a secret third option.

You knew it, he knew it, and he was smirking at you all satisfied, thinking he got you cornered whereas it just meant that the cost of getting what you wanted was to fulfill a raging fantasy of yours.

This wasn’t a doomsday scenario. It was fucking payday.

“You can’t deny there’s this thing between us,” Minho stood up and put his hands in his pockets, “Did you know every time we’re in the same room, they issue a DefCon 3 warning? It’s that dangerous.”

He started walking towards you with slow steps, staring you down the entire time. If he thought his intense gaze on you was supposed to be intimidating, he would be sorely mistaken. This was a lot more like torturous foreplay for you where he would deny you any contact until you forced him to touch you.

“Interesting. Every time we’re scheduled for a meeting together, you wear pencil skirts like this,” he stopped right behind you, “I can see the shape of your ass perfectly.”

Your eyes automatically closed when he stole a whiff from your hair and let out a content hum. You felt his hands on your waist and they started sliding down.

“Who told you I have a thing for g-strings?” he caressed your ass, his breathing seeping into your body down your nape, “Is everyone also talking about how I’m an ass man?”

“No,” you swallowed, hoping he wasn’t able to hear your pulse.

“So it’s your personal observation after seeing me drool over yours.”

Why, yes, it was. It didn’t take a genius to notice how he always checked you out when you walked past him, or when you dropped something around him, which happened way too often when you two were alone.

“What’s it gonna take for me to eat your pussy? Your promotion?” he breathily whispered into your left ear, “I just wanna watch how wet I get you. You know I do.”

“No.”

“Pity,” he tutted and let out a disappointed exhale, “In that case—”

“No, I’m going to watch you,” you finally turned around and faced him, “If I like what I see, you can eat my pussy.”

His lips parted in contentment. Too much of it. You could literally see all the mischievous lights flickering in his eyes.

“You should know, that hard-to-get thing you’re playing with me turns me the fuck on.”

“I know,” you subtly wrapped your fingers around his tie and started dragging him back to his chair.

You made yourself comfortable on the smooth surface of his desk as Minho sat down in front of you and spread his legs wide. His hard on was straining his slacks, and you couldn’t help the urge to drag your high heels around the outline of his cock. Minho’s hands were running up your legs and caressing them all over, but you stopped him before he could reach your thighs.

“Shh,” you pushed your heel on his chest, “Let me see you.”

He unbuckled his belt for you, eyes keenly focused on your impending reaction, and sprung his erection free. It was fucking impossible not to drool at his delicious girth, and you licked your lips out of complete instinct.

“You like what you see, huh?” he grinned, satisfaction in his voice palpable.

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.”

All he did was stare into your eyes, and you were hypnotized. He slowly spread your legs as wide as he could and pressed his thumb on your underwear, just to feel some dense moisture on his skin.

“Then how come you are this wet if you don’t?”

There was no point in pretending you didn’t want to fuck this man’s brains out anymore.

Eyes still holding yours captive, Minho slid the piece of stained garment down your legs, and your skirt up your waist to put the sight he was yearning for on display. Your pussy, glistening with a thick coat of slick he was the cause of.

“Lick,” you commanded him firmly.

He buried his face between your legs and licked several long drags on your folds, then chuckled to himself.

“You’re dripping on my desk,” he briefly looked up at you again, “I’m never gonna clean this up, you know.”

Then his ministrations turned even more torturous. He wasn’t even licking you anymore—it was only the tip of his tongue touching your clit in frequent intervals.

“Stop teasing!”

“No,” he spread your lips further apart, “You told me to lick. I’m licking.”

You were getting so frustrated that you started rolling your hips on his face to get a bit more friction. It felt a bit too good, and you couldn’t control the volume of the moan that spilled from your lips.

“Shh, quiet,” Minho squeezed your thighs to warn you, “Do you want somebody to walk in on us?”

“If it’s Hyunjin, he’s welcome to join. I have three holes,” you shamelessly grinned at him, “Come on, give me more.”

Minho trapped your clit between his lips and gave it a strong suck before completely ceasing all stimulation.

“If you want more, I’m fucking you.”

“Not if I fuck you first.”

That was all it took. He basically jumped from his seat and aligned his cock with your dripping entrance, currently ruining some documents you were sitting on. His hands immediately held onto your ass to pull your body close.

“So… fucking… wet…” he groaned while he was sinking into you, “Did you want me that much?”

“As if you’re not rock hard and throbbing inside me right now.”

“I never once denied how much I wanted this pussy. You’re in my worst fantasies.”

Minho threw his head back once he bottomed out whereas your eyes were rolling back. Now you knew for a fact how fucking stupid it was not to fuck him any sooner.

Way sooner, for that matter.

“Oh fuck, this— It’s so— So fucking good!”

“Too full?” he grabbed you by the nape, “You can’t get this from the Hwang guy.”

Once he started moving inside you, his kisses quickly turned into a sloppy makeout session where you were biting into each other’s lips. His growls in your mouth were forcing you to clench around him.

“Do people also talk about how many surfaces I have in my new condo?” he panted against your lips.

“No?”

“A lot, and I wanna fuck you on all of them. You’ll leave a trail of cum everywhere,” he shoved three of your fingers inside his mouth and licked all over them, “Rub your clit for me.”

The space Minho gave you to comfortably pleasure yourself allowed him to see your torso better. He started salivating at how your tits were bouncing in your blouse, and he loosened a couple of your buttons in a rush to free them. To fondle them. To suck on them to his heart’s content.

“Call me Minho. I wanna hear you moan my name.”

When he latched his lips on your neck, leaving open mouth kisses everywhere like a vampire’s last chance for survival, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself even if you wanted to.

“Minho!”

“Just like that,” he inhaled your lips again, “Ride it, baby. Take what you need from me.”

You squeezed his jaw between your thumb and index fingers, then started declaring your demands.

“You’re gonna give me my promotion.”

“Yes, I am.”

“You’re gonna increase my commission rate.”

“Yes, I am.”

“You’re gonna give me an expense account.”

“Yes, I am.”

“And you’re gonna eat my pussy whenever I want. Day or night.”

“Sit on my face in a board of directors meeting for all I care. Total free use for you,” he gritted his teeth, “but you’re going on at least one date with me.”

You inadvertently laughed and kissed him. As you were melting in each other’s mouths again, Minho found a delicious fucking spot inside you.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you leaned on the desk to support yourself and started rubbing your clit fervently to your climax, “Hit that hard. Faster. Faster!”

When you finally snapped, you clenched so hard around Minho that it forced him to cum. He rode out both your orgasms at a declining pace, and his movements eventually came to a halt. He stole one last kiss from you before pulling out, then snagged a couple of wet wipes suspiciously sitting on his drawer to clean you up.

“You’re sorely mistaken if you think I’m gonna let this go,” you declared while putting your underwear back on, “That promotion is mine.”

Minho sighed in exasperation as he buckled his belt, then buttoned your blouse for you.

“It’s fake,” he emphatically uttered, but all you gave in return was a blank stare.

“What is?”

“The announcement you threw a tantrum about,” he sat back on his chair, “We’re doing phishing tests. You should learn to check your incoming email extensions.”

You had done quite a few pretty impulsive and stupid things in your life, but never once did you feel like an utter dumbass like you were feeling right now.

“So the promotion was…”

“There’s no Jennifer Pratt. It was yours all along.”

You felt played. It wasn’t even played; you felt scammed, but you weren’t able to help your laughter anyway. Minho laughed along with you, then asked you the question he was after all along.

“So do I pick you up at 8 on Saturday, or what?”

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Yup. Reboot in its rightful place. Let's do pregame before the sequel.

✉ Enjoyed this? It would be cool of you to reblog so that my work can reach more people.

#lee know smut #lee know x reader #lee know x y/n #lee know x you #lee know scenarios #lee know imagines #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #skz smut #skz x reader #skz x y/n #skz x you #skz scenarios #skz imagines

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myimaginarywonderland · 1 day

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I truly want Eddie and Buck to fight.

Mainly because I have wanted Buck to blow up at someone from the 118 for years. I get that apparently there were off-screen apologies but the way every single member treated Buck when he got a lawyer, the way everyone has dismissed Buck's trauma before that, the way Buck was literally punshed by Chim, the way Buck's has (nearly) died multiple times and the trauma of that is never really acknowledged, the way Buck was sexually assaulted and everyone joked about it, the way Buck has had so much shit just put on him unknowingly sometimes by them, yes, I want Buck to snap.

I want Buck to finally stand up to someone and tell them that it's not okay, that what he went through wasn't okay and that he needed his family with him when they weren't.

I need Buck to finally see "I deserved better" and have someone show him he deserves better (aka Tommy.)

I need someone to finally be in Buck's corner, to tell him that what he went through wasn't okay and that he doesn't need to get over it because you just don't get over some traumas.

I need Buck to finally have a moment where he is allowed to be angry, where he is allowed to feel his emotions, where he is allowed to hurt and someone is immediately there to catch him, to be beside him.

I need Buck to finally be allowed to be proud of his work, to finally understand how much he has done as a firefighter when he didn't even have to, to understand that he can be more, that he is allowed to want more.

I need Buck to finally be allowed to go on a pathway up the FD ladder because he deserves it, he has earned himself the opportunity to get a chance to prove himself.

I need this season to finally lay the groundwork to Buck's full potential as a character, as a love interest, as firefighter. I need this to be the start of his true growth where he is finally allowed to want things and to get the things, the happy ending, that he always wanted for himself.

I need this to be a turning point for Buck where we finally see him settle into himself and I truly believe that for that to start he needs to let go of some unspoken things, he needs to be allowed to feel and to be angry at his family without knowing if he will have support.

And I need Buck to be the one to finally make Eddie realise how incredibly toxic and dangerous his behaviour is because no one else will probably get through to him. I also need Buck to understand that healing Eddie, that helping Eddie, can only go so far and that this is something that he can't fix because it's not his to fix.

I need Buck, the one person who always wants to help, who does everything to help, who will do anything to try to fix something, I need that Buck to be held and to be told that not everyone can accept his help. I need that Buck to be loved while someone tells him that Buck matters too, that Buck can not destroy himself for someone who might not even be ready to heal. I need Evan, the kid who always felt like something was wrong and that he had to make up for it, to be looked at and to be promised that he is enough, that just being him is enough and that he doesn't need to be more than that.

And yeah, if I think that Tommy can do that, then yeah, I need Tommy to be there while Buck is slowly realising that he matters too, that he deserves to be happy too.

#911 abc #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #kinley #tevan

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nu-suave · 3 days

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WHO FALLS FIRST, WHO FALLS HARDER? (pt. 2) feat. toji, suguru one, two

word count: 706

summary: who falls first, who falls harder? a/n: sorry i didn’t post the past few days… i did but i made myself angry at what i wrote so i deleted it all. you’ll be missed nanami kento x reader oneshot

Toji falls first, you fall harder. There aren’t many people he’s been able to be completely emotionally and physically vulnerable with; when you first openly offer that and show him no ill will or disdain, he doesn’t believe it. As time passes, though, he comes to accept it as a fact of your character - you simply are a safe person to him, and that’s a very unfamiliar feeling. Things rapidly become a lot more meaningful than he originally intended. He was going to mooch off of you, take a warm bed to sleep in or idle company while he gambled or meaningless conversation at the grocery market. It landslides from there. Physical affection, usually a means to an end, becomes something he genuinely wants. A lot of things about you become wants. He wants to touch you, wants to spend time with you, wants to get you things. It’s hard for him to recognise at first and, in all honesty, freaks him out. He doesn’t see himself as someone made for affection or domesticity or the kind of normal thing romance proves itself to be. It causes him to overcompensate at first - he makes biting comments and is a bit more reserved. He tries to scare you off, almost. He fails.

When you fall, it's about as graceless as Toji was. You’ve been friends for a while now, and in that limbo in between for nearly just as long. He hasn’t flirted with you or tried to push you into a relationship. If he’s being honest with himself, it’s because he thinks you’re too good for him - you deserve better than what he’s currently able to give you. Unfortunately (or maybe, more accurately, very fortunately) for him, you don’t feel the same way. When your feelings for Toji hit you, they hit you hard; you’re doing something mundane, like patching him up (an increasingly common occurrence) or chatting with him while he lazes on the couch, when he makes you laugh and the entire weight of your feelings hit you over a three-second period, leaving you numb with shock. Here’s to hoping you’re more proactive about your relationship than Toji is - you might be left in that period of requited pining for longer than either of you would like, until either you gain the courage to confess or he finishes attempting to pull himself together enough to feel like he can be something good for you.

You fall first, Suguru falls harder. He has a kind of effortless charisma that initially draws you to him; he’s charming, likeable, conscientious, and good looking to boot. You know from the very beginning that he’s the kind of person you usually fall for - you’re not wrong. It’s a spark that lights quickly, and it’s a gradual blurring of feelings until you look back on the early days of your friendship and wonder if there was ever a time you weren’t in love with him. He’s thoughtlessly respectful, never stepping over or pushing your boundaries - and sometimes picking up on them before you even need to say anything. It’s like he’s just tuned into your behaviour, and never crosses a line that’d make you uncomfortable. You never feel lesser in his presence or like you’re second place, even as you battle Satoru for his attention. Just by existing, Suguru makes the people around him feel heard.

When he falls, it’s over the course of a conversation. You’re both out with your friends, and Suguru is noticeably checked out of the conversation; he doesn’t talk much, is keeping to himself in the corner, replying to any attempts to engage him unenthusiastically. You pull him aside, asking how he is and if you want to ditch them together so he can get some fresh air. He does. During that night, it mounts and mounts; you engage him in light conversation, at some point just sitting beside him and not saying anything at all. You’re just there, an unobtrusive presence. It’s more comforting than you know, and as you bid each other goodbye at the end of the night, it hits him - how long has he been feeling this way about you? How long have you been this silent support for each other?

i really hate suguru's part lmao

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji x you #toji fushiguro x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #toji x reader #suguru getou x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru x reader #getou suguru x reader #getou x reader #geto x reader

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obeymematches · 1 day

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MC acting oblivious!

since you're accepting hcs now, how about an mc whos a big tease/bully (aka mammons worst nightmare lol)? im quick to realize when someone has a crush on me and when i like them back i turn into the biggest tease on earth until the other person confesses. im good at acting oblivious so its always "wait, they cant possibly know i like them, right??" poor, poor souls lmao. so im wondering how the brothers+undateables would handle an mc like that! keep up the great work! 💕

Hi, good to see you again !!! <3

okay i love this so much lets go !

Lucifer:

Okay so in his case it’s mentioned several times that he is in love with the MC so this ain’t just some crush he’s being teased about but that’s one of the reasons why he loves you so much.

He is rather guarded emotianlly as his pride isn’t going to let him just fall for anyone. But once he does he is not going to deny it!

Lucifer is someone who will ask you out on a date without a warning. The only thing you might notice beforehead is that he spends suspiciously lots of his time with you. (by a lot in his case I mean something in between 30 and 60 mins every second day. he’s a busy man)

Him: My schedule is tight today but I would like to spend time with you, MC, would you care to join me at a confectionary? MC: sounds like you’re very busy, are you sure about that? 🥺 Him, slightly offended but still lovingly: Yes, MC. Let me express myself better... would you please have a date with me today? MC: oh....um-

Mammon:

● oh god, oh jesus, oh no

● We all know The Great Mammon has a hard time admitting his feelings out loud, with words, bluntly.

● So the way I see it, the situation is about to be Awkward As Hell.

● Mammon is clearly sweating, butterflies occupying his entire stomach, he fiddles with his nails.

● Him: So MC, I was thinking- I mean I'm thinking- wanna go skating with me tonight?

MC: Oh that's a very romantic idea- but I think friends don't just go skating, you know.

Him: Friends??! I don't wanna be just your friend MC-

You: Then? Then what?

Him: Goddamn I- I just want to be yours- Jesus ya are makin' it so difficult MC, it is not easy as is!!

Leviathan:

● ahh the frustrated face he makes through this conversation isn't just a facade. He really is stressing right now.

● Him: MC.... there is something I must tell you. And you only. Please listen and don't tell anyone!

MC: Don't worry Levi, I too hate people who gossip-

Him: No it's not like that. I have a desire in my heart that I must share with you as you are the most special person I ever met and I can only hope you feel the same way for me and- I feel so embarassed but I've been meaning to ask you this- would you be my partner? My player 2?

MC: well if you wanted me to play you could have just said so like you always do-

Levi: What?? Is that what you understood? No MC you don't get it! Ahhh I knew I shouldn't have asked you my chances with you are close to zero-

MC: Wait Levi I'm so sorry-

Satan:

● You could tell he was acting different these past couple of days. He was texting you more, he offered to spend more time with you- it was obvious he likes you.

● He knocked on your bedroom door and as you liked him just as much as he liked you, of course you let him in.

● I think you acting like you don't know what's going on turns him on? Like he know you ain't stupid. He knows you like him at least a little bit too, otherwise he wouldn't be here talking with you.

● Him: So MC, are you free now?

MC: Well, it depends on how you define "free" I think.

Him: Oh quit it please.

MC: I would if I knew what you were up to right now-

Him: Alright. You are going to make it more complicated, I see. In this case, meet me at 4PM at the common room. Please. I'd like to take you on a date if you're free.

MC: Inside the house? Weird if you ask me-

Him: ...... you are right actually. Let's meet at the park then. Don't be late.

Asmo:

● Again he would absolutely love you acting like you noticed nothing when he couldn't be more clear about what he wants.

● He knows this game though & he is quicker than you are.

● Him, cuddling you: So MC I have been thinking about us....what are we?

● MC: We are.... the best. Me, a human, and you, a demon.

Him: Nooooo, you know that's not what I meant!!!

MC: Well I don't know what you mean Asmo. Aren't we though?

Him: Aren't we what? A human and a demon?? Ahhhhg stop playing with me MC!

Beelzebub:

● Ohh babe is going to believe you actually don't know what' going on-

● I think he'd find it funny when he realizes you were just acting like such-

Him: MC. I like you.

MC: Okay, I like you too. That's why I'm your friend.

Him: Yes we are friends I know... but to me you are the first person I want to talk to if anything happens, good or bad... you are on my mind all the time, no matter what- I haven't felt like this in my entire life- you are the most special person to me, MC.

MC: Ohhh... I didn't realize-

Him: I only went out with Mammon yesterday because I thought... I was hoping you'd be there to, that you'd join... I just wanted to spend more time with you. But you weren't there. Let's go somewhere together today- I mean, if you want to-

Belphegor:

● MC you are about to annoy him to deatg to be fair.

● Depending on his mood he might join you though!!!

Him: So human- I mean MC. Let's hang out today.

MC: We already do.

Him: I meant as a date, stop playing stupid.

MC: I don't like being called stupid. Is this how you are asking me out on a date??

Him: See I knew you knew what I meant!

MC: Why would you ask me on a date though, aren't we just friends?

Him: .....

Him: We could change that- I want to be your one and only.

MC: Well if you are my one and only friend I might get lonely when you're too busy for me though-

Him: Stop it don't say another word. Are you coming today or not? MC? You listening?

MC: you just asked me to shut up-

79 notes · View notes

cosmics-beings · 24 hours

Text

The last thing I’ll say too is that, I think that Starscream is going to get a redemption arc, but if you want him to have a redemption arc that is well fleshed out, and sends an actual message, you are going to have to accept that he is also bad. You are going to have to accept that, despite the fact that he was a victim of abuse, he also perpetrated abuse/abusive actions to those close to him and he was doing that before he met megatron. in many iterations starscream is also an abuser, ES may not be different.

That’s the issue with the hashtag episode that I think you all missed. starsrcream, despite being a victim himself, is still changing. Hashtag called out his harmful traits and that was something he was seen working on at the end of the episode.

He is STILL going to be working on it. This is his redemption arc. He got to have his trauma and abuse validated, but he is also working on how he treats others that way too. A good redemption arc is going to actually show him changing, and being a better person, and I hate that so many people are throwing that away because they’ve convinced themselves that Starscream is this uwu softboy when he’s not. He’s not at all. And that’s the beauty of his character. He is a victim and an abuser, and he is working on breaking that cycle.

Like I mentioned in my other post, starscream is probably the deception leader, and he is the leader because he is changing. He is the leader of the cons because he is actually helping, listening to them and cares for him. That whole conversation he had with hashtag is probably going to be reflected in how he actually cares abuout and attempt to be a decent leader to teh decepticons.

Also, starscream is the leader the deceptions chose. Megatron, in their mind, abandoned them. Starscream did not, and he is doing everything in his power to make sure that the deeptiocns are okay—unfortunately, because ehe doesn’t trust the autobot that’s probably gonna look bad. His development is more than likely going to be in how much he loves the cons. And how much they love him back, and how much they have forgiven him.

That said, there is still the chance of a redemption arc. So many people are just throwing his character away and I KNEW this was going to happen, and I really wish people looked at the hashtag episode in depth because we saw that starscream was still dealing with evil, manipulative tendencies that the still has to work on.

#starscream #transformers earthspark #tf earthspark #transfomers

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lizaluvsthis · 3 days

Text

Sparks in the air

This fanfic is dedicaded to @shygirl4991 and @alianarepasa for Mothers Day! Thank you for being our found family!

Summary- Smg4 receives an official invite from a group of famous content creators such as himself to work with them.

It's always been a dream for him yet he has to leave his home and friends forever. After careful consideration, he decided to pursue his dream and packed up his things.

His friends threw him a going away party, and he was sad to leave but what bothered him the most was that he hasn’t seen too much of his meme guardian partner lately since he announced he was leaving...

INSPIRED BY - The show “Friends”

References:

Notebook (from Spiderverse Part 1) -Liz

Holding hands episode -Aj

Written by @itsajanea and @lizaluvsthis

Illustrations by @lizaluvsthis

Gmods by @itsajanea

COMBINED IDEAS BY THE EGG N’ BEEG DUO

[AJ]

3rd Pov

“GUYS, GUYS LOOK WHAT I HAVE!” Smg4 yelled excitedly, running into the room, and waving what seemed to be a half-open letter. The crew looked at him with confusion but expected it was good based on his reaction.

“ I got an official invite to work with the best content creators!!” The blue meme guardian starts jumping up and down, waving the letter in the air.

The others were happy for him and celebrated with him.

Something slipped from the inside of the envelope and fell onto the floor, Meggy picked it up and stared at it before turning back to look at the happy Smg4.

“Ummmm Smg4, did you read the ENTIRE letter?” Meggy calls out to him, catching everyone else's attention as she waves a small plane ticket.

Smg4 looked back at the invitation in his hand and took out the letter from the envelope only to realize it was also talking about him moving away from his current residence

“Oh, it says that I will be going away for a long time…” What once was happy cheers turned into a sad moment of silence, until Mario shuffled up to him and gave him a big ol hug.

“Mario understands how much this means to you, and Mario is very happy.” He softly said, hugging the other tighter while he held back some tears. Smg4 hugged the red plumber back and soon everyone joined in the group hug, it was nice and comforting for the man.

All except for one, Smg3. He looked back at the group making sure no one noticed him hiding his tears before running off.

Smg4 Pov

It's been a couple of days since I got that invite… I should be finished packing by now, yet I don't want to move.

I’ve been lying here, staring at the ceiling for quite a while and I hear some noise outside.

They told me earlier that I should stay in here for a while so they’re probably throwing a party for me which is nice but… something feels wrong.

I sat up and looked at the boxes surrounding the room, I finally got up and walked around the place, reminiscing about the time I spent here.

I spotted a glimpse of a certain picture inside the box and I took it out. I smiled seeing the picture of me and the gang, we all looked so happy, I pulled out another picture from the box and it was of the two of us.

“Three…” I frown just thinking of him, I haven’t seen him in a while since I said to everyone that I accepted the offer.

And even when I DID see him, he’d just avoid me.

I bet he’s just mad that I got a good deal instead of him. I rolled my eyes and shoved the picture back into the box, walked away, and found myself looking back at the box.

Even though I'm a little mad at him… I’ll still miss him, like everyone else but I think I’ll miss him the most. But we know that I have to leave soon, so I better finish packing.

I grabbed an empty box and started packing some stuff in it, later on, I finished packing all my stuff so I took off my hat, lay on my bed and I stared at the wall to my right.

I waited for a while for the others to finish outside but I can’t help thinking about him. I turned to the left, looking at that space beside me and for some reason, I felt something was missing in that very spot.

I closed my eyes and drifted off into a deep slumber.

…

Suddenly I felt a gentle breeze, I opened my eyes and found myself sitting on the grassy plains, staring at a purple sky, It was a sight to see and reminded me of someone-

I looked around the beautiful plains and saw 3 in the distance, I got up and rushed over to him yet I had a weird feeling.

When I called out his name, he looked at me with an enraged look, clenching his fists and what shocked me more was when he spoke in a sarcastic tone.

“Congratulations Smg4, you got what you wanted, now you can go off with your new friends.”

He then started walking away, I tried catching up, pleading with him to understand what he meant. I thought he would understand.

I tried reaching my hand out to him

and then the next thing I knew… I woke up, realizing I was reaching for something that wasn’t there

I tried relaxing my mind because it didn’t matter, for now, maybe I’d see him later and we could talk if he would be here.

“Oh ES-EM-GEE-FOUR!” I hear Mario’s call, which means I can finally come out now. I fixed my hair, put on my hat, and was ready to get out.

When I stepped out, I noticed all the decorations and everyone I knew. They all yelled out in excitement and came rushing towards me. I was overjoyed, even though it may be the last, I'm glad to see everyone again.

While chatting with one of my old friends, I see Smg3 just standing there.

I excused myself and walked up to him til Mario just popped out of nowhere. I was stuck talking to him for a while and saw 3 leaving the party too soon. He looked at me with a cold stare before disappearing from my gaze.

What did I do wrong?

3rd Pov

It was after the party that Smg4 couldn’t sleep, that look 3 gave him shook him to his core. It made him angry for some reason. Why couldn’t he be happy for him just once, just because he was the one who got an amazing offer?

4 could’ve tried sleeping, his flight is in the morning but it bothered him too much to the point where he decided to go march over to 3’s place and give him a piece of his mind.

He took his hat and entered the shop, while riding down the elevator he thought of what to say and then

Ding

He got off the elevator and yelled out

“THREE! WHY THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN AVOIDING ME THIS PAST-”

Smg3 sat on his bed, hugging himself while he cried in anguish. Surrounded by a mess and Eggdog, who was trying his best to comfort his beloved father he still weeps.

4 felt devastated, he felt sick to his stomach seeing the other in this state. He had never seen 3 in such a terrible state like this before.

“Three…” He softly says, slowly approaching the other before 3 stared at the man intensely, his eyes were red and puffy, and he kept gasping for air and felt his body tremble.

“Get out.” 3 quietly answered, pausing to wipe his face on his shirt. “Now…”

“But I-”

“I SAID GET OUT, GET OUT NOW” he raised his voice and threw the nearest object he could find at 4.

4 was able to dodge it but he still had goosebumps. Before he could speak, 3 threw another object at him and kept throwing more and more objects while yelling at him

“GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT!!!”

[Liz]

A moment without thinking, he threw the only thing that felt important to him…

His secret diary… his notebook… the one that he hides most often when he’s around with four or any other of the crew members.

“Three! Please stop- we can talk about this-” Four trying his best to cover his face with his arm on defense.

He was brought by surprise just the second he saw a notebook coming closer that was about to his face.

It was too late for him to dodge it, right after the split second he noticed that it was SMG3’s diary. The sharp corner hit his forehead and fell to the floor.

“OW!” SMG4 knocked himself back to the ground, with his eyes closed. His hat fell off to the floor, and the amount of pictures and notes flew out of the pages from three’s notebook.

Like how it exploded in the air.

The notes and pictures that scattered across the room, gave Three a quick moment of realization then his face turned pale. Feeling shocked after realizing what he had just done.

Seeing Four has a tiny scratch from the impact and the purple notebook he owns. Just right in front of him…

Three starts to panic after he gave himself a second to think, he f-cked up pretty badly…

“SHIT- SHIT- SHIT!” he hurriedly grabs the photos and the other notes lying on the ground, and Four rubs his forehead then finally opens his eyes to see papers falling.

As one of them falls and lands in Four’s hand, he slowly picks up the note to try and read what the handwriting says.

Three’s handwriting is oddly new to him since he’d never seen much of his writing before, looking a bit closer now. He reads a simple note of-

“Today, Four made me laugh. I honestly hated how soft I am to this baka but the joke was funny tho.”

Then to the bottom after the text, it shows a doodle of him and Three laughing together, just the two of them sitting on the bench.

“What…” he saw two marked pink colored hearts, one beside four and one beside three.

Three’s heart started pounding, this can’t be happening to him right now. But then again it was too late to stop him.

As Four carefully placed the note down with now seemingly widened eyes, his other hand moved to the other side reaching out for another picture.

It was a picture of him and Three back when they were both in their recolored designs. Back when Three seemed to like Four a little bit…

The picture is back on Christmas when Four insists on taking a selfie with him and Three while Mario is the one to use the camera. SMG3 felt a bit uncomfortable with the idea but Four still insisted.

Grabbing him around the shoulder, Three is seen blushing red in the camera while Four just smiles casually.

[AJ]

“You kept this….” 3 took the picture away from him, his face was red and he was extremely frustrated with 4.

[Liz]

“I…” Three wanted to respond but never dared to. SMG3 felt like his whole world tore apart right after a single thing he’d done. Now everything about his friendship with Four is destroyed.

Four tilted his head from side to side seeing all of the notes that were all mostly drawings of him and the pictures Three and him have been together or even without three and just him only marked with pink hearts all over.

“Three… you… you’ve been hiding all of this from me this whole time…?” Deep silence caused Four to get more upset. “Three… please…” “Stop.” The notes three were holding are now crushed right after clenching his fist.

“YOU WOULDN’T UNDERSTAND ANYTHING AT ALL!” He slapped Four’s hand away after trying to reach him.

“Then just tell me-”

“FOR MEMES SAKE- WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS SO DENSE? I LIKE YOU IDIOT?!”

Three snapped out to Four as soon as he kept pushing Three to finally admit these feelings that he’d never given to him years from now.

Four, still lying down on the ground, looked up at Three to see the tired look on his face. His red cheeks were visible enough and had been caught in tears streaming down from his eyes.

He took a harsh breath and began to avoid his stare, he looked down to his side. “There…” he took every second to catch up on his words, taking deep breaths to regain his stamina.

“Now… you know…” his eyes kept watering, it made him want to wipe it off. He was still mad at him during this time, he just wished that Four would go away.

Yet the man refuses to leave him alone.

Smg4 Pov

“Why didn’t he tell me…?”

My thoughts wandered from his act, I had never seen him like this before.

But when he finally said that he had feelings for me… I didn’t know why it just stabbed my heart after hearing him this broken.

I spoke right to his front, trying to understand why he kept avoiding me.

"But why 3... if you felt this way, then why didn't you at least see me one last time?"

“Was it selfishness…? Was he jealous…? Did he hate it when I said I was leaving…?”

Three as soon as he wiped his tears, he turned to me and stared right into my eyes with hatred and pain.

"BECAUSE IT HURTS FOUR! It hurts so bad seeing you leave and I CAN’T DO SHIT ABOUT IT…"

…

Oh…

(shit… I fucked up pretty badly… didn’t I…)

As much as I want to follow the path I’ve always dreamed of achieving, I promised myself to never hold back. Never LOOK back. But just seeing Three like this I don’t think I could ever say no just by baring to look at his eyes.

“Three… you know we both have been friends right…?” I saw him backing away from me and avoiding my glances, He kept picking up other of the notes that were left on the floor as soon as I saw the notebook right in front of me, one of the pages seemingly read as “SMG4” which was my name, is written on the lines.

“Dear Diary, I wish that SMG4 would have stayed here. But there's nothing that I can do now, I guess no one ever stays the same once there is one important thing way ahead in people's lives.

He’s leaving too. I don’t want him to, there's so many things that he’s done here. And now that he just started to leave? What kind of idiot does that man think he is? It’s not fair.”

There was a space gap in the paragraph, the last sentence is crossed out of the line. I leaned in closer to read the final letters. “I wish I could tell him- about how I feel-” The notebook is shut closed in my face as Three snatched it away.

“You’re moving away from us today… Leave me be… I don’t want to discuss any of this anymore” Three puts the remaining notes back on the pages and puts them back in the drawer, shutting it loudly.

Third Pov

“You should leave… Before you might miss the airport” Four got up from the ground and picked up his hat, putting it back on his head. “Can we just talk this out?”

“You don’t want to know how heavy it is to me when you’re gone.

I’ve waited every OTHER MOMENT of our time to get together but NO!

You wanted what you wished to get and you already had your time here, you enjoyed the celebration, the party, your friends, Mario, and everyone who was all up to support your dream. But me?

I’ve already run out of time, thinking about what could happen between the two of us, when you’re not by my side…”

Four wanted to speak to him, he wanted to hug him tightly. If he had to choose between the options of either leaving or staying, he could never decide.

What will he ever listen to? His heart or his head? But he could never decide about this, not with the one he loved, his friend that he broke his attachment to just because of moving far long away.

Which one should he decide…? Even though it was his dream… his partner…

He had already decided that following his dream was the only choice for him to do so, yet he also had no choice since he accepted that letter.

“I’m sorry…” Four backed away and ran to the elevator, Three was left alone from the scene.

—--

Four had finally had his luggage packed and was hugged by Mario and then by every other of his crew members.

“Mario’s gonna miss you very much!”

“I agree with Red, things are never the same without you around and…” Meggy and Mario gave each other looks and went completely silent right after they gave a sad one.

“Guys, what’s the matter?” They both looked at him with sad eyes as Meggy spoke the second time.

“Three was barely seen around the party. It seems like me and Mario wondered that it’s worrying him that you’ll be gone…”

Mario pulled out a meme quote out of the random. “Mario smells GAY DRAMA from you” His mustache grew as he sniffed him.

Four couldn’t help but think about what happened back to his lair. Was it all true? Did he- as in SMG3 have this kind of romantic feeling for him?

He tried not to think much about it since he was running out of time.

He knew he had to go but there's just something wanting to let him stay there, someone… who in particular was Three.

“Oh, yeah right. Him…” He immediately felt bad about the words he said to him, he couldn’t ever forget about it, it felt like the words were stuck to his head.

“SMG4- did something happen with your boyfriend? Did you both fight or something?” SMG4 flinched after hearing Mario say the word.

He began to back away from his words defending himself “What? We’re not boyfriends! He and I just had a misunderstanding- "On what exactly?” Meggy grinned in curiosity.

[AJ]

A honk of the bus caught everyone off guard, They all knew this moment would come sooner or later and they all had to be strong for their friend.

The crew gathered for one last hug before Smg4 stepped onto the vehicle.

He sat down and looked outside the window, seeing everyone waving him goodbye while the bus began to move.

He had one last glimpse of them, the showgrounds and Three’s Coffee shop.

He only saw for a moment, but swore that he did see Three watching him leave before going back inside.

The man in blue felt blue once again, he put on his headphones and watched some memes to make him feel better but nothing helped…

Smg4 then closed his eyes for a little while, waiting for him to reach the airport.

—--

After he was cleared for inspection, Four got on the plane earlier than expected. He should feel excited, overjoyed, and thrilled even for this wonderful opportunity yet he still feels upset.

He felt tired, he took his hat off for a breather and ran his hand through his hair. Looking at the lights and looking back down at his hat, noticing a small folded-up note inside.

Smg4 opened it up, expecting it was a fun quirky letter left behind by his friends but instead he was greeted with an old photo he took with Smg3 not so long ago, before the whole YouTube thing.

He had convinced Three at the time to take a selfie with him, Four giving his usual goofy grin while Three who was looking at the other just smiled, with his face colored with a bright tint of red.

There was also an added note written in purple ink, “I just love him and his goofy ahh smile so much” dotted with hearts.

The whole world felt like it stopped for Four, he held the picture close to face and he now knew for sure that deep down in his heart.

“I love him”

Smg4 Pov

“I love him, I do love him!” After so long I finally understood, I always felt that we were just more than friends. GOD I’ve been such an idiot, It's been so obvious this whole time!

I just love him so… but if I do love him, What the heck am I doing?

I look around me to see the plane filled up, If I do love him what am I still doing here?

This whole YouTube thing can wait, I need to see him, I need to get off the plane.

I put back the picture and wore my hat, grabbed my bag, and was determined to go after him.

Jumped out of my seat and rushed down the aisle, I could feel the stares of people I passed by but It didn't matter.

“Sir, you need to go back to your seat.” The flight attendant lady stood in my way, denying me the exit that was right there.

“But Miss-” I replied “I need to get off, I need to do something”

“I'm sorry, but I cannot allow you to leave-” We felt the plane shake as it began to take off.

Oh no.

—-

3rd POV

After a long day of serving customers, 3 placed a sign on the front door saying “We’re Closed”, grabbed a broom, and cleaned up. He sighs, wondering what could have been. If he had told 4 sooner than later, Would they have been happy? Would they still have to come across this problem? But, It's too late anyway, 4 made up his mind and he has to deal with it.

Smg3 kept on sweeping and sweeping, then he heard somebody enter.

“Oi! Shops closed!” He didn’t bother facing the person, he wasn’t in the mood at all.

“3…”

He recognized that voice, it was impossible. He turned around to see if it was real.

“I got off the plane” It was Four, standing in front of him with a sincere smile.

[Liz]

Smg3 scanned the area where Four dropped his suitcase.

The suitcase tumbled to the ground with a dull thud, and it landed face down, the wheels clattering against the floor.

Three’s face contorted into a surprised expression, His partner darted forward, sprinting to embrace him and open his arms wide.

Four’s arms held tightly to SMG3’s waist, and he lifted him into the air, spinning him around quickly, with their faces beaming with joy.

SMG4 carefully lowered SMG3 back down to the floor, their reunion now complete.

“You have no idea how much I’ve been missing you for so long, you idiot…” Three said softly. They turned to look at Four, who was now facing them with a rage-filled expression.

He, however, was not so quick to forgive and forget, and he let go of SMG4’s arms. Turning around as he punched him in the face, with all of the anger and resentment he had pent up over the years. “Ow, that hurt-” “Well that’s what you get for leaving me!” Three said.

Four rubbed his cheek after the punch, his face hurting yet understanding why SMG3 reacted the way he did.

After all, he had left him without even saying goodbye, acting like a true jerk-face. “I guess I deserve that. I’m sorry I hurt you.” Four said trying to reach for his hand to mend their relationship.

Three backed his hand away from him, he couldn’t bring himself to meet Four’s gaze, avoiding eye contact with him. He started to speak, but stopped his sentence, realizing something. “You didn’t make it to the flight…?” He asked as if it had just clicked in his mind.

“I came back to tell you something…” Four replied. “To tell you how much I loved you…” He offered his hand once more, and this time, Three accepted his hand, their bodies finally close as they embraced each other.

Three’s voice rose in an upset tone as he asked, “But what about the invitation? The content creations?” Aren’t you supposed to be following your dream?”

Four gave him a soft and warm smile and replied “I decided to follow my heart, the path I want to choose. I chose you, and our other friends.” He hugged SMG3 tightly and said. “I’m sorry for leaving you…” his response surprised Three.

“So- you’re not leaving?” Three questioned with wide eyes, feeling so much relief that a smile spread across his face. Four shook his head in reply and said, “No, I’ll never leave you or anyone else. I promise.”

Three’s eyes welled up as all the emotions flooded his mind, he felt relieved and overcome with happiness.

SMG4 noticed this and quickly wiped the tears away from the man’s cheek, saying “Hey, you’re crying.”

Three gave him a laugh and replied, “I’m just glad that you came back…” He then gave the man in blue a kiss.

Four was taken aback by the sudden display of attention, he was not prepared for the display of affection that Three had recently given him just now.

Four’s eyes immediately closed as Three pulled him in for a kiss. The long, drawn-out kiss was now the end, and all that could be seen was two lovers locked in a passionate embrace.

-THE END-

#lizaluv #smg4 #smg34 #smg3 #smg4 smg3 #my art #shygirl4991 #alianrepasa #itsajjena #smg3 x smg4 #smg4 x smg3

124 notes · View notes

holydayaria · 19 hours

Text

Bedeviling

Nobunaga x Reader

Synopsis: Nobunaga wants a bite, you want to be left alone.

Warnings: yandere, vampire nobunaga, nobunaga in general, fem reader that’s afraid of blood, blood

8200~ words… kind of proofread for once

You wake up with a jolt, covered in sweat and your heart racing. Eyes wide, you sit upright. You can see the bedroom you’ve slowly become familiar with; thanks to the nightlight plugged into the wall. Taking a few deep breaths to calm yourself down, the faint whir of the ceiling fan and cicadas outside serve as your distraction from the nightmare you woke up from. You check your neck and your collarbones, but you don’t feel any bites or scratches. It really was just a nightmare. You hope, foolishly, even, that Nobunaga isn’t awake. That he’s for some reason decided to fall asleep tonight. A familiar but unwelcome hand creeps onto your shoulders, trying and failing to be comforting.

“Do you want some water?”

You look over, and he’s up as if he never fell asleep in the first place. There’s a glass of water on the nightstand, on his side of the bed. Any ice that was in it has melted now, but the drink is most likely still cool. “No, I’m fine.” You say warily. He’s never drugged you before, but you wouldn’t entirely put it past him to have put something into your drink. Something with the intention of “helping you sleep better”. Nobunaga ignores you, taking the glass of water and placing it in your hands. You take a moment, sighing to yourself and reluctantly taking a sip before he begins insisting.

The water tastes fine.

It’s been about three weeks since the nightmares started. Three weeks, since this, (you’re not sure if you even want to call him a man), thing, tore you from what little you had going for yourself, and decided that for the time being, you were his new blood bag. In that time, though, he’s sparsely drunk from you. At least, not from your neck. Nobunaga’s invasion of your privacy hadn’t been limited to just your blood, there were a few scabs on your legs from when he insisted upon helping you shave. It was bad enough without him apologizing while trying to lick up what he could in the same breath.

You continue running your hand along your neckline and shoulders, feeling for anything out of place. Any developing scab or any broken skin, even the faintest bit of saliva would be enough to shatter the incredibly flimsy trust you had in him. Nobunaga takes notice, even as you try and fail to be discreet about your worries. He takes your hand in his, but all you can think about is him deciding to gnaw on your wrist. “I didn’t do anything while you were asleep,” Nobunaga says, intertwining your fingers with his. It doesn’t bring you much comfort, but you haven’t found any evidence suggesting otherwise. You don’t say anything for a few seconds, so Nobunaga takes it that you’ve accepted his answer.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“About what?”

“Whatever you were dreaming about.”

He says it so earnestly as if it really matters to him if your nightmares scared you. You read once that an animal’s meat will be of lower quality if it’s subjected to high stress situations or abuse. You chalk his concern up to that, pushing out any idea that he cares about you past what's in your veins. If he does, it’s certainly not because he sees you as an equal companion. You look at him, and though he seems to have been awake all night, he doesn’t look any more tired than usual. “I don’t want to talk about it.” You mumble. Nobunaga continues holding your hand, giving it a light squeeze. “Are you sure?” “Mhmm.”

He doesn’t pry more than that, taking a few extra seconds to stare at your face. “Go back to sleep then, I’ll stay with you.” He murmurs, taking the glass from you and setting it back on the nightstand while you try to settle back into bed. You lay on your stomach, one side of your face pressed into the pillow, eyes staring right at the wall the bed is aligned against. Nobunaga shifts a few inches closer to you, and you choose to sleep in a different position when you feel him rubbing circles on your back. Nobunaga in response, moves his hand to caress your upper arm.

Much to your internal dismay, his touch does get your mind off of your nightmare. When Nobunaga is being quiet, you can imagine his hand as someone else's comforting gesture. He pauses briefly to adjust the blanket, pulling it back over your shoulders. You keep your eyes closed and hope Nobunaga doesn’t say anything for the rest of the night, managing to fall asleep under his careful ministrations.

You wake up that morning to the sound of rain, muffled pitter-patters outside. You can’t see what the weather looks like, but you imagine that it’s cloudy. Nobunaga’s already out of bed, slipping on a brown leather jacket over some already casual clothing. You sit up in bed, only wearing one of his shirts. The lights are still off, the night light burning hot from how long it’s been plugged in. You rub some of the sleep from your eye, not giving any verbal indication that you've woken up. Knowing him, though, you’re sure he’s already sensed it.

Nobunaga looks human to you, from here. He never looked like anything else, but something about watching him adjust the way his jacket sits on his shoulders and how he ties his long hair back, it makes it hard to see him as a blood-sucking creature of the night. Who knew monsters could look so normal? You wonder if anyone outside this cabin knew that he liked to kill people and drain them of what they were worth in his spare time. Staring at the clock on the bedside table, you’re surprised that it’s well into the afternoon; 1:04 PM.

“Are you going somewhere?” You finally ask, and Nobunaga turns his attention from the mirror on the inside of the closet door to you. Before he can respond, there’s a loud clap of thunder, which makes you flinch. Nobunaga chuckles at your reaction, walking back over to the bed to pet the top of your head. You make an effort to not recoil at his touch. “The rain is supposed to stop soon, but it’s going to be cloudy all day. I thought I’d go and get some errands done.” He says, his eyes trailing from your own to your collarbones, down to your wrists, then back to meet your gaze.

“I’ll be back soon, just stay here.” Soon most likely meant a few hours, which was a much-needed break for you. Still, whenever he left the house, that ill feeling of him never coming back would creep up on you. You didn’t want to be near him if you could help it, but the prospect of being left to starve in a house that you physically can’t get out of seems like an equally painful death. Nobunaga waits for you to say something, any verbal indication that you heard what he just said. “Okay.” You choke out, and the corners of his mouth twitch upwards.

Nobunaga leaves shortly after, reminding you about food being in the refrigerator if you get hungry. You don’t see him off, staying in bed until you hear that front door open, close and lock. Even when he’s gone, you don’t feel much at ease. You’re alone, your only company until Nobunaga gets back are the few bugs hiding under the floorboards and within the walls. You notice a spider on the ceiling, your heart catching in your throat. It skitters up and inside of the vent.

Maybe you can ask Nobunaga to kill it if it ever comes back outside.

All of the windows are boarded up, both on the inside and out. Wood panels on wood panels, keeping the sun out, and you in. The majority of the lights didn’t work when he first dragged you here, evidently he didn’t think they needed to. After a few days, Nobunaga got around to changing the lightbulbs and ensuring some of the rooms had lighting. The bedroom, bathroom, and a lamp in the living room had working lights.

Most days, though, the light in the bedroom wouldn’t be turned on unless Nobunaga did it himself. You didn’t have the energy to even do that most of the time, your current light source being the rabbit night light. It was strong enough to illuminate the whole room (which was a bit cramped anyway). Nobunaga had gotten it for you when you tripped over some of his junk on the floor trying to get out of bed. He’d decided to clean up a bit more after that, only after he pulled you back under the covers.

You just didn’t want to get out of bed today. You weren’t sick, Nobunaga had drained you of around two pints of blood when he first ripped into your neck, but by the first week you’d mostly recovered. You weren’t too hungry or thirsty; Nobunaga was giving you a strange amount of accommodation, making sure you were well-fed most of the time. Though, now that you think about it, a person who's hungry and isn’t getting the right amount of vitamins doesn’t have the best-tasting blood. It feels as though any act of courtesy given to you is ultimately self-serving.

His apparent need to constantly have you around him and give him your attention didn’t exactly fit into your theory that you were just a walking meal, but, maybe he was lonely. You’re not sure if you prefer that line of thinking, but it’s certainly a more optimistic one. That was just wishful thinking, though. It was equally likely that he was doing all of this as a strange sort of torment. It didn’t make complete sense, but you couldn’t wrap your head around anything Nobunaga did.

Perhaps it wasn’t so bad. It’s awful, really awful, but… he hasn’t killed you yet? He isn’t unreasonably violent; he hasn’t starved you or gone out of his way to torment you (yet). Plus, you had free roam of the house when Nobunaga was gone. You can’t stay here; you aren’t that far gone. It couldn’t hurt to wait for the right chance to make a break for it and save yourself, rather than jumping at any perceived opportunity.

Even so, if you stay here too long, you might end up just like him. It’s not like you could pry the wooden panels off and jump through the window, even if now Nobunaga wasn’t here to stop you. Not again. You ended up getting splinters on your fingers the first time you tried, and Nobunaga took it upon himself to painstakingly pick them all out.

He chided you for it, but he wasn’t as angry as you thought he would have been. Having the man suck on your fingers, trying to get whatever blood he could from the micro-tears in your skin, was punishment enough. Even when you had gotten one panel off, left sweaty and out of breath with cramped hands, there was another beneath it. Part of you wonders if there even are windows left, or if he knocked out the glass completely and filled the gaps with even more wood and whatever else material he could find.

There was no phone line, and if Nobunaga had a cellular phone, you’ve never seen it. Sometimes, when he would send you to bed while he stayed up later in the night, you swore you could hear him talking to someone else in the living room. You had to strain your ear to pick anything out of the conversation, pressing yourself against the bedroom door and trying to be as quiet as possible. It was hard to tell if he really was talking to someone, and if they were in the house, or if it was someone on a phone call. Maybe you’d ask him about it one day, but even if he did have a phone, would calling anyone help?

It’s not like your situation was completely unbelievable, there’s no way you could be written off as a liar. As long as you leave out the part about him killing your peers by biting them like a sick animal, and holding you down just to leave bite marks and ugly bruises on your neck and chest, then you should, in theory, be believed. What if the authorities couldn’t find you, though? You didn’t know the address of this house, you couldn’t even describe any surrounding landmarks, or even what the color of the front door was.

Your nerves start to get the better of you, and you shuffle out of bed, the cold wooden floors unfriendly to your feet. Already wearing one of his shirts and a pair of sweatpants that didn’t fit right was too intimate for you, you weren’t going to wear his socks either. You leave the bedroom, moving into the living room to turn on the lamp. The few nightlights plugged into the outlets in the hallway made up for the lack of working lightbulbs. Maybe people were already looking for you, or maybe they found your blood splattered around along with some of your hair, and are only focused on finding a body.

You start to feel nauseous, but you can’t stop thinking about it. If you knew where the television remote was, you’d be watching the news right now. Looking for any segment about you or your friends, searching for something to prove to yourself that you weren’t being written off. Nobunaga hasn’t kept any newspapers, nor has he ever brought up your mauled friends or your disappearance to you. You can’t manage to sit still, mind once again stuck on answers you won’t have in the foreseeable future. There isn’t anything you can do about it right now, other than try to think of something else.

Slinking into the kitchen, you open up the refrigerator to see if there’s anything to eat. Nobunaga said there’d be food, and you’d rather stress eat than sit in front of a television you can’t turn on. You try to ignore the blood bags, you don’t want to speculate where he got them from. Maybe he had a friend who dropped them off for him, or maybe he stole from a doctor's office. The only other things in the fridge are a jar of pickles, a six-can pack of beer (and not even the nice kind), and some eggs. There was also a half-empty carton of blueberries, and some vegetable chips that were stored in the fridge for some reason. The loaf of bread left out on the table has mold.

You settle on the blueberries, idly eating two or three at a time. They’re mushy and tart, and hardly fill you up. You get through half of the carton before finally deciding that their taste is too much for you to look past. A familiar dry sting returns to your eyes, you’re terribly aware of your own tiredness. Your eyelids feel heavy again, and you can’t say with any confidence that you slept well last night. There isn’t anything for you to do now, not when the backdoor in the kitchen has been boarded up as well and had an out-of-place end table shoved in front of it.

You can’t get out of any of the doors, you can’t get out through the window, you barely have anything to eat. The television can’t even be turned on to pass the time, and there aren’t any books to pass your time with. Out of circumstance, (and in hopes that it’ll clear your head), you trudge on back to the bedroom, passing the door to a room that won’t open. God knows what’s in there, maybe it’s boarded up from the other side with more wood. Slipping back into bed, you try to catch up on your sleep debt. All you can hope for is that you don’t have another nightmare.

You wake up to the sound of the front door opening, and multiple locks being put back into place. You can hear Nobunaga shuffling around faintly in another part of the house, eventually coming into the bedroom and opening the door. You’re almost instantly alert, brought out of your nap by his presence. Glancing at the bedside clock, you see that you’ve only managed to get around 40 minutes' worth of sleep. Despite that, you don’t feel so groggy. “You’re still in bed?” Nobunaga steps into the room, moving the blankets off of you. “Have you eaten anything?”

“Yeah.” You mumble, sitting up to get out of bed. Nobunaga looks like he doesn’t entirely believe you, but he doesn’t argue with you about it. “Come help me with the bags.”

The bags were a mix of groceries and hardware, placed onto the kitchen counter. Most of it was stuff you assumed was to fix the lighting in other parts of the house. You hope that Nobunaga will also fix the shower so that the hot water lasts for more than five minutes. You don’t want to bug him about it again, though. While you stand at the kitchen counter, mindlessly taking items out of the bags, Nobunaga comes up behind you, caging you between him and the counter.

His head dips low to sniff at your neck, causing you to flinch. “What are you doing?” You squirm at the feeling of his facial hair brushing up against you. “I’m not doing anything. Don’t move so much.” He reprimands lightly, breathing in your scent. You wait for him to be done, his arms wrapped around your torso. His fingers, long and calloused, hitch up the hem of your shirt and feel along your bare skin. His Adam’s Apple bobs as his fingers traipse your torso. You hold back a wince, shutting your eyes and trying not to think about whatever he’s about to do. It makes you feel even more anxious when you can’t see what he’s doing, but you can’t bear to look right now. Your muscles tense and you freeze up at the feeling of his arms tightening around your waist.

He presses himself even closer against you, your back right up against his chest. Nobunaga’s considering this great progress, he’s gotten so close without you screaming. He can just about hear your heartbeat, fast and loud. Maybe you weren’t used to getting attention like this from other men, that was a thought he’d like to entertain. He breathes in the smell of your sweat and your fear, which he chooses to attribute to you being shy. You bite on the inside of your cheek so as to not scream when you feel his chapped lips brush up against the side of your neck and the shell of your ear.

It feels like he’s being intentionally cruel, holding you hostage under the guise of playing house. Does he enjoy dragging it out like this? Trying to lull you into a false sense of safety before sinking his fangs into you? You wait tentatively for the sharp bite to come, for Nobunaga’s hold on you to tighten to the extent that your lungs can’t expand with any more air. Your palms begin to sweat even more, and it feels like your legs could give out from under you at any second. You curse yourself for getting complacent, you should have looked for something to pry those wooden boards off while Nobunaga was gone. You’re going to die because you had a lick of Stockholm syndrome earlier in the day.

Suddenly, he backs off. He’s still pressed up behind you, arms loosely wrapped around your waist, but he isn’t pressing his nose into your collarbone area anymore. “Are you okay? You’re shaking.” Nobunaga points out, and he’s right. You finally open your eyes, not feeling his breath against your skin anymore. Your whole body is trembling, and your eyes prick with tears from how hard you’ve kept them shut. Nobunaga doesn’t connect the dots between him and yourself, continuing to look at you with concern and worry, and every expression other than guilt. “Go sit on the couch, you don’t look well. I’ll bring you something to eat.” Your shaky legs barely take you back into the living room without failing on you.

You sit on the couch, still skittish from what you thought was about to be another feeding session. Wiping the sweat off your brow, you take some deep breaths to calm yourself down, brushing off the germs on your shoulder and neck where Nobunaga was getting far too close and personal. You listen to the man sorting out the groceries, opening up a few cabinets and the refrigerator. He comes back around to the living room, holding a box of takeout food and the television remote you were looking for earlier. Nobunaga sits next to you, turning on the T.V and placing the takeout box on the coffee table briefly.

He positions you the way he wants you, with your legs strewn across his lap. You lean your head against the couch, not wanting to be touching him so much. He leans forward to get the takeout box off the coffee table, settling it over your lap. You keep your legs still, not wanting to spill the food while he forces you to share with him. He doesn’t seem particularly hungry but chooses to take a few bites of the takeout just so that his saliva will be on the fork when he feeds you. You try not to think about it and instead focus on the texture of the food, ignoring his staring.

Your heart rate slows back down to a rate that’s only slightly quicker than your normal one. You have a million questions on the tip of your tongue, but you don’t have the nerve to ask any of them. You find yourself unable to open that can of worms, though you know you’ll have to ask one day. Sooner than later, too. You get lost in thought, tuning out the generic comedy playing on the television and not registering the fork-full of food that’s been right in your face for the last fifteen or so seconds.

“What? You aren’t hungry anymore?” Nobunaga asks, trying to give you that last bite of food. “Uh- no, I’m not.” You mutter, looking away from the fork and the piece of chicken on it. “Are you sure?” He prods. You might be inclined to eat a bit more, but you want to end this strange spoon-feeding (fork feeding?) as soon as possible. “I’m sure.” You focus on the television screen as Nobunaga takes that bite for himself, trying not to think about the shared saliva between you two, lest your throat lurches, and you feel like vomiting. He leaves briefly, putting the takeout box in the fridge and coming back with a can of beer.

You're afforded the chance to put your legs in a more comfortable position, your feet planted on the floor where they belong and not anywhere near Nobunaga. He sits down right next to you, not giving you any personal space as his arm wraps around your shoulders, forcing you again to be close to him. This time, his focus is also on the television screen as he sips some of his beer. You’re not sure what his alcohol tolerance is, but regardless you don’t think you’d feel safe with a drunk Nobunaga. You can barely stand to be around a sober one. Then again, the last thing you’re going to do is tell him what he can and can’t do in his own house.

You both stay like that for a long while, you tucked into his side while he watches a show that just barely has his (and yours) attention. So long as you don’t move away from him, Nobunaga is content to stay like that for the time being. The television plays a movie you aren’t familiar with, something that never did too well at the cinema and was left to air on a channel most people don’t tune into. You want to ask Nobunaga to change the channel, maybe change it to the local news. Maybe then you’d at least get some insight on where this shithole of a house is.

A paranoid, fearful voice in the back of your head wonders if he’d rip your tongue out for talking to him. The most sadistic thing Nobunaga has done thus far (aside from the first time he nearly put you on death's door, drinking your blood and sinking his fangs so deep into you that it’d hurt him to ever let go), was all the times he forced you to share a bed with him. Despite all of his pervasiveness and lack of boundaries or personal space, Nobunaga seems to have gotten it in his head that he’s doing the right thing on some level. Granted, his idea of “the right thing” is vastly different from yours.

Nobunaga lowers the volume on the television, and speaks up rather abruptly after the long silence. “Give me your hand.” Those words alone cause you to tense up. Nobunaga tries to appear disarming, gently taking your hand in his calloused one. He doesn’t do anything, not yet, internally a bit bothered that you’re still so on edge around him. “This is going to hurt a little, okay?” Nobunaga brings your hand to his mouth, now holding it a bit firmer as he gets the finger he wants in his grasp. “Wait, what’s going to hurt? Hey—“

With no warning, he bites down on your index finger, his fangs breaking the skin. It isn’t a hard bite, but it hurts and you can feel blood pooling in dots at the site. You yelp, trying to pull your hand away. “Shhh, it’s just a little cut,” Nobunaga says dismissively. He keeps a firm grip on your hand, guiding it to the opening of his beer can. He nurses the blood out of your finger, scraping it painfully against the edge of the metal opening. You wince and clench your jaw at the sensation, your free hand gripping the armrest of the couch as he squeezes your blood out. When he’s satisfied with the mixture of blood and alcohol, he lets your hand go to lightly swish the can around, stirring the contents.

You watch him drink his beer, the color once again drained from your face. You wrap your bleeding finger with the hem of your shirt, taking in deep breaths. What the hell was his problem? Nobunaga sets the beer can on the coffee table, turning his attention back to you and your finger. “It was just a little poke.” He says, moderately surprised that it got such a fright out of you. If Nobunaga had bitten through your finger, then he’d understand, but he’d been careful to not go too deeply. “Let me see it again.”

At his behest, you let him see your finger again. He doesn’t bite it, instead examining the cut he made. His gaze then flits back to you, still wide-eyed and tense. With just a bit of pressure, the bleeding was nearly over. “Do you want me to get you a bandaid?” Nobunaga asks in a manner that is half teasing and half serious. You manage to choke out a weak “yeah”, so he moves your legs off of him to go find you one.

Luckily, he hadn’t thrown out the old med kit in the closet. It was something the previous owners kept, one of the things Nobunaga hadn’t bothered to toss out after killing them. Most of their belongings were still in that closet, left untouched. Nobunaga makes a mental note to search through the closet later for anything you might want. He comes back to the living room with a singular band-aid, gingerly applying it to your injured finger. “There you go. Is that better?” He asks tenderly. You grit your teeth, restraining yourself from calling him disgusting. It never bothered him before, it wouldn’t bother him now. “Mhm.” You hum, looking at your finger instead of him.

“You should go to bed, I’ll join you in a little bit.” It wasn’t a suggestion, more like a command. You get up and begrudgingly let him lead you into the bedroom, while he’s still in a good mood. He stands in the doorway once you’re back in the bedroom. He doesn’t leave yet, idling around for a few more minutes, as if trying to will you into asking him for something. “Are you going to be alright on your own?” Nobunaga asks, eyeing you over. “I don’t mind helping you change-” “I’m fine.”

You cut him off, on the verge of shoving him out of the doorway yourself and shutting the door. Nobunaga doesn't take offense to you being short with him, either because he felt bad for scaring you earlier (unlikely) or because he just can’t comprehend that you truly dislike him. “I’ll come check on you later.” He says, brushing off your attitude and leaving you alone for the time being. He closes the door on his way out, affording you some much-needed privacy.

There’s a plastic shopping bag in the corner, it’s been there for about a week now. Nobunaga supposedly bought you some clothes so you wouldn’t have to keep wearing his, but you hadn’t touched it yet. He hadn’t made a fuss over it, only commenting that he didn’t mind that you liked his shirts so much. It made you feel sick, this was entirely a lose-lose situation. You didn’t want to accept any of his gifts, and you didn’t want to entertain the idea of staying with him long-term, but the alternative was giving him the wrong idea.

You decide to open up the bag, tearing the plastic apart rather than untying the knot. It’s a few articles of clothing, enough for you to rotate between in a week; if you wore some of them for a day longer than you’d like. The clothes are nothing flashy, they all still have the tags on them. You notice a pattern with the tops and the one nightgown he got you: they all have spaghetti straps and show off the neckline generously. Aside from the visible necklines and one of the pajama bottoms being far too short for your liking, they weren’t too showy or revealing. For the most part, they didn’t reveal any cleavage.

You settle on a plain camisole top and some pajama pants with a pattern on them. You don’t respect Nobunaga enough to put his clothes anywhere other than the floor, so that's where you leave them. The door to the bedroom is locked from the outside, and although you’d rather not go to bed without at least washing up, you’re happy to keep Nobunaga’s attention off of you for as long as possible. You step into bed, shuffling under the covers. The sheets smell like him, there's a strand or three of dark hair left on the pillow he sleeps on. Even in his absence, you don’t get any real peace.

This near-constant flip-flopping on where you stand with Nobunaga has made your head hurt. The second you think your situation is even the slightest bit bearable, Nobunaga does something to put you back on edge and into full survival mode. You toss and turn for nearly an hour in bed before finally managing to drift off in a comfortable position.

You’re awoken about two hours later by Nobunaga, climbing on top of you in bed. He’s lightly shaking you awake, but his heavy breathing wakes you up first. You groan, opening your eyes to see a man who is too excited about whatever is going on. “Are you awake?” He asks. “Y-yeah.” You mumble warily, and Nobunaga smiles. “That’s good, I didn’t want to bother you if you were asleep.” You become somewhat more alert at that, unable to sit up with Nobunaga pinning you down. The dark circles under his eyes seem to be slightly more pronounced than usual.

“You’re wearing the clothes I got you.” He points out with both pride and appreciation. You blink, slightly annoyed that all he woke you up for was to praise you for such a small thing. You wish he wouldn’t mention it, but of course he does. “Yeah,” It’s become your go-to answer for anything now whenever you don’t know what to say to the man. “That’s good.” He looks away for a bit, then back at you. He’s easy enough to read on a surface level, you can tell there’s something on his mind. Bad things tend to happen in such cases. He remains on top of you, uncomfortably close. His face is just a few inches away from yours.

“You know how I bit your finger earlier?”

“Yeah.” It was just a few hours ago, you’re not sure how you could forget.

“I’m going to do that again, okay? It’s just a little bit of blood”

“What?” Your eyes widen a tad and you put your hands on his shoulders, trying to push him back. “It’s just a small bite on your neck, you won’t even feel it.” He keeps talking, each word worse than the last. “Get off of me.” He doesn’t even pretend to listen to you, staring right at the side of your neck. Nobunaga keeps talking, more to himself than you, ignoring your attempts at getting his attention or your panicked state. He leans down to press kisses along your jawline, and the repugnance and knowledge of what’s about to happen is enough to make your heart nearly stop. In what feels like a last resort, you grab a fistful of his hair and pull on it harshly. “Nobunaga!”

“Ow- What?” He snaps, finally moving away from your neck and looking you in the eye. “What’s wrong?” “I don’t want to do this.” You say hastily, not knowing how much weight your words have for him (if any). Nobunaga blinks, looking down at you. If he understands your fears, he certainly doesn’t think they’re wholly reasonable. “Are you scared?” He asks, like he’s teasing you for it. “Yes.” You don’t see the humor in it like he does, there’s no way he expected you’d be on board with being sucked dry.

“It’ll just be a little prick.” He says. It’s something you’ve heard plenty of times from nurses; but those nurses were holding one butterfly needle, not four canine teeth, and a disgusting tongue to lap at the wound. “You’re gonna drink my blood.” You mumble out, verbally realizing what he’s planning. Nobunaga nods slowly. “How much?” “Mm… half of a cup?” You don’t believe him. “It’s not going to kill you, you’re just going to feel tired after. Then you can go right back to sleep.” Nobunaga continues, trying to placate you. “Just lay still.” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before going back to kissing your jaw and your neck.

You stiffen up again, taking in shaky breaths while he prepares you for a feeding session. If he wasn’t so engrossed in this facade of intimacy, he might have noticed that this makes you all the more uncomfortable. He continues to lay on top of you, pinning you down to the bed while he licks and sucks on your neck and shoulder. “Come on, just relax, please,” He implores you, and if you hadn’t seen him take what he wants without hesitation previously, you might have the confidence to deny him more firmly.

“It’ll only hurt for a few minutes, and then it’ll be over, I promise,” Nobunaga murmurs into your ear, sending waves of discomfort and fear down your spine. His breath fans against your neck, smelling like alcohol and whatever was left of that takeout food. Your skin crawls and goosebumps begin to form. “I’m not going to take a lot.” You bite down on your tongue, squirming and trying to angle your neck away from his mouth, to no avail.

His hand rests on your chest, vaguely where your heart is. He can feel your blood rushing in your arteries, and he can feel the rapid beating of your heart in your neck. You haven’t responded yet, but your hesitation and nervousness are almost too obvious for him to ignore. Your brows knit together, fingers balling into a loosely formed fist. “I don’t want you to take any at all.” Your attempt at sounding assertive fails when your voice wavers. Nobunaga smiles sheepishly at that, trying to play this carefully. He has just enough inhibition to not gorge on you as if you were a piece of meat. He doesn’t want to scare you into trying to run away again, undoing the progress he’s made.

Nobunaga knows he can stop, that he probably should stop, but you’d never get used to it if he did. It was like ripping a bandaid off, it would have to be done eventually. Sure, you didn’t like being sucked on now, but Nobunaga is confident that he can teach you to enjoy it, even if it takes a few sessions. As far as he’s concerned, you two are well on your way to becoming a happy couple, after all. You just need a bit longer to settle in.

“I won’t bite into anything important if that’s what you’re worried about. You don’t have to be scared.” He repeats, though he hasn’t made much progress in placating you. You run out of any excuses to give him; in his mind, Nobunaga’s already refuted them all. He presses a few more kisses to your skin, hoping that a gentle presentation will calm you down enough to let him get what he wants.

To his annoyance, you’re steadfast in your decision, trying to push him off of you. The first time he’d done it, you weren’t given any preparation or warning. Now that he was trying to be more accommodating, it somehow made it worse. It felt like an impending doom, part of you wants to tell him to just shut up and get it over with. You hold onto the chance that he’ll back off and get his fill from somewhere else if you persist, though. For a second, you think you've won this game of tug-of-war. Nobunaga reluctantly moves away from you, looking you in the eye. “I’ll be right back.”

He sneaks one last kiss on your cheek before getting off of you and leaving the room. You sit upright, wiping his saliva off of your neck and shoulder with the edge of the blanket. Your ears and the back of your neck are burning hot. His words replay in your head as you rub the last remnant of sleep from your eyes. The last thing you wanted to do was cling to his promises as any hope for your situation, but it was all you had. You try to brace yourself for whatever happens, wanting to be optimistic. It’s like he said, losing a half cup of blood wouldn’t kill you.

Nobubaga returns shortly with a knife in hand. You bristle up instantly, eyes widening. “What’s that for?!” You say, shrill and with your heart rate spiking. The words you want to say; that you’ll let him bite you, that the knife isn’t needed, that he doesn’t need to cut you, it doesn’t come out. “Calm down.” Nobunaga says somewhat dismissively, coming to sit back down next to you on the bed.

“Here, look.” So you do, and Nobunaga holds the knife in one hand, angling it at the other. He cuts his palm open, and you flinch. He has no visible reaction, only simpering at the look in your eye. “It’s alright, it doesn’t hurt.” You resist the urge to roll your eyes. You weren’t worried about his wellbeing.

When he’s done, Nobunaga places the knife on the bed almost carelessly, though still out of reach for you. It does put you at ease that he isn’t holding a sharp object anymore, at least he isn’t pointing it at you. He pulls you closer, having you sit thigh to thigh with him. The arm closest to you wraps around your shoulders to keep you in place, meanwhile, his cut hand is brought to your mouth.

You look up at him quizzically. “It’ll make you feel better about this, trust me. It doesn’t taste bad.” Your mouth opens to say something, but you’re in too much shock over what he’s insinuating to respond. “You’re crazy.” You shudder, trying to push his hand away. There’s no way he’s serious about this. Nobunaga doesn’t concede, though, only looking at you as if you were a confused animal. “Just give it a try.”

You can’t block out the smell of blood, the most you can do is not look at it for longer than necessary. Your hands tremble and you cling to the hem of your shirt. Surely it would just be one lick, one swipe of the tongue. Then you could swallow your own spit to get the taste off your tongue. Nobunaga looks at you expectantly and with an amount of anticipation that heightens your unease. “I don’t want to.” Your voice regrettably wavers in your attempt to sound firm.

“You’re making this harder than it has to be. I cut my hand just for you.” He sighs. I never asked you to do that, you think to yourself. “I’m trying to do things the nice way.” “What’s the other way?” You ask out of curiosity and to stall. “Well, I could hold you down and take what I want. It wouldn’t be so difficult.” He hums, drinking in your expression. “Maybe you’ll like it.” You would have scoffed at that if you weren’t so disturbed by the situation.

To avoid potentially aggravating him, you do what he says. You feel insane, licking at the skin of his hand. It tastes like salt, and the blood is even saltier. Metallic, like you’re putting a melted coin in your mouth. You try not to gag, shutting your eyes and pretending that you’re just licking expired caramel. That only makes it worse. Nobunaga breathes heavily when you lap at the cut on his hand, making you all the more reluctant to play along.

“There you go. See, it isn’t so bad.” He croons, unaware of your growing urge to vomit. “Does it taste good?” He asks, and you can’t even look at him when he finally pulls away. What must have been about twenty seconds felt like an eternity. “No.” You gasp, wanting to get the taste out of your mouth. You swallow down the bile rising in your throat, feeling thoroughly disgusted with both yourself and him. Nobunaga laughs, wiping off the small amount of blood staining your mouth with his thumb.

There’s a brief pause as Nobunaga lets you collect yourself. He admires your spit on his hand for a few seconds before turning his attention back to you. “Lie down, it won’t take long.” He says, lightly pushing you back down onto the mattress, and having you lie on your back. You must have looked even more terrified than you realized. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.” That phrase sends a new wave of disgust up your spine. Nobunaga shifts to be right on top of you, a few strands of his dark hair falling on your face. His head once again lowers and his mouth aligns with your neck.

His teeth hardly graze your skin and yet you’re already writhing and biting back any whimpers. When his hand comes to hold your neck in place, you squirm at that as well. He pauses, thinking it merciful to give you one last minute to collect yourself. “Try to relax.” Nobunaga grumbles, his patience thinning. He’s salivating just from being so close, yet you continually find ways to deny him, even if it’s unintentional.

“Do we have to do this?” You ask weakly in a last-ditch effort to wiggle your way out of this. Nobunaga’s eyes soften slightly, still trained on your neck. He takes a moment to speak, hands firmly holding you by your upper arms. “If you can be good and let me do this, then I’ll make it up to you once it’s over.”

He doesn’t give you another second to prepare yourself before he sinks his teeth into you. His bite deepens and you gasp in shock, pain, and disgust. The weight of his body and the pain in the side of your neck rendered you to his mercy. All you can think about is him not holding to his word, on accident or otherwise. Taking too much blood and leaving you to bleed out in this room; away from all of your family and your friends. Then he’d probably eat what was left of you.

You struggle to keep down any pained groans, biting the inside of your cheek to suppress any noises. Nobunaga mumbles something you don’t quite catch as you’re actively trying to tune every bit of this out. One of his hands brushes up against your clothed breast, groping it in a way that Nobunaga thinks is discrete. Your hand goes to smack his away, with whatever strength you can muster. Nobunaga responds by taking your hand and holding it, letting you squeeze it and dig your nails into his hand to get through the pain.

Your other hand finds itself once again tangled in Nobunaga’s hair, inky and long. You hold it tightly in your fist while you try not to cry at the feeling of his tongue prodding at the bite marks in your flesh. When you pull his hair, he moans. “There you go, that’s right, baby.” You cringe, quickly moving your hand out of his hair and onto the bedsheets instead, clinging onto the fabric till your knuckles turn white. Nobunaga continues to siphon the blood out of you, relishing in the sounds of your mewling and whimpering. To him, it seemed like you were liking this a little more than you were letting on.

When he’s done, when he looks up and sees your face drained of its color and your eyes watery, Nobunaga pulls away from your neck. Licking up the last bit of blood on his chapped lips, he haphazardly presses one of the blankets on the bed to your wound, shushing you in between peppered kisses on your cheek. In doing so, he’s smeared your blood all over your face. “Stop crying, I’m done.” He coos, gently squishing your face in his hand and pecking you on the lips.

You hadn’t even noticed you’d been crying, not until he’d pointed it out. Tear stains run down the sides of your face, staining your skin alongside your blood. Nobunaga licks at the side of your neck, taking in one last deep whiff of your blood and sweat mixed together. He seems just as breathless as you are. There’s a distinct ringing in your ears as your vision continues to blur with tears that Nobunaga wipes away. Blood is caught in his facial hair, though he doesn’t seem to mind.

“You did good,” He murmurs, taking in uneven breaths. “It’s over, I promise.” You aren’t given a second to respond before Nobunaga’s got his tongue back on you, this time writhing its way into your mouth as he drags you into a make-out session. You let him, trying to enjoy the feeling, as sloppy and unarousing as it was. You try not to think about how much you want to vomit from the taste of your own blood in your mouth. You’ve felt more nauseous in these past hours than you probably have in your entire life.

The only upside to your predicament is that the worst is over with. You try to focus on that instead of the pain in your neck or the stiff boner in Nobunaga’s pants that you can feel pressed against you. You try not to think about his hand once again creeping towards your chest, this time having slipped underneath your shirt. You don’t have the strength to tell him off for it, you barely have the energy to keep your eyes open. Nobunaga keeps the blanket pressed against your neck until he gains a moment of clarity and gets off of you.

He moves back his hair across his shoulders, pushing aside the strands that fell across his face. “I’ll be right back, ‘m going to get you cleaned up.” He breathes, leaving the bedroom to get that med kit and some rubbing alcohol if there was any. You don’t respond, laying limply in bed. You close your eyes for a few seconds, goosebumps covering your skin. Nobunaga was right, you didn’t die from the blood he took. It was awful, not made better by how perverted he was making it, but it wasn’t unbearable.

You don’t want to think about how this may become routine for you, or how he might take more blood next time. All you want to think about is that it’s over tonight, he promised that it would be over. At least you’d be able to go back to sleep soon.

#aka the ultimate self insert fic for me #Yandere nobunaga #yandere nobunaga x reader #yandere hxh #yandere hunter x hunter #_hxh #_nobunaga #yandere nobunaga hazama x reader #nobunaga x reader

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buckybarnesb-tch · 1 day

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Daemon T. Yandere A-Z

(I couldn’t resist, I needed to make this, this was one of the most requested things I’ve ever had so I hope that you love it!)

A stands for AFFECTION: how would they show affection?

•Daemon shows affection through physical touch, he always wants to be touching you in some way whether that’s with his arm around your waist, you sat across his lap (which is a near constant position for him to put you in) or possibly just as simple as holding your hand

B stands for BLOODY: how bloody are they willing to get for their object of obsession?

•As bloody as physically possible!

•Daemon will protect you with everything he has and the idea of getting bloody will not deter him for a moment. You had better hope that blood doesn’t make you sick to see or smell because with how often Daemon believes (true or not) that men are flirting with his Princess, there’s going to be a lot of bloodstains on his clothes…and yours

C stands for CRUELTY: would they ever hurt their object of obsession?

•If you push Daemon too far he can get violent with anyone

•He would never harm you the way he harms other people, however you are in no way exempt from his rage

D stands for DARLING: would they cross their object of obsession’s limits?

•If you try and keep yourself from him then yes, he will absolutely cross any limit he believes he needs to. You are Daemons wife and that means you will perform the duties of a wife as you are meant to as long as you are healthy and strong enough to do so

E stands for EXPOSED: how much do they expose their own feelings to their object of obsession?

•Daemon is actually quite open with you about his feelings in your marital bed, which is really the only place he is willing to talk about anything personal or private

•He actually surprises you a bit with how open he is with you on your wedding night. After your third round he snuggled you to his chest to allow you a break and he began talking, ending up telling you quite a lot about himself for much longer than you expected

F stands for FIGHT: how would they react to their object of obsession fighting back?

•Daemon would find it comical to see his cute little wife fighting back

•He will happily pin you down and fuck the fight right out of you for as long as he needs to

G stands for GAME: do they think this is just a game?

•Daemon does not play games in any facet of his life (unless he’s teasing assholes/idiots like Otto Hightower or Gerold Royce), certainly not in his marriage

H stands for HELL: what would be their object of obsession’s worst experience with them?

•The worst experience you have with Daemon is when you make the mistake of spending the afternoon that he is out for a ride on Caraxes with an old friend that you hadn’t seen in a long time

•That afternoon was spent in the library getting to know each other all over again, however as he walked you back towards your rooms for the evening, you ran into your husband who did not like you in the company of another man

•Daemon, being Daemon, would not listen to reason and that night your husband took you while covered in the blood of your friend, covering you in his warm, sticky blood while his corpse laid 10 feet away from your bed with his eyes open and unseeing

•Strangely enough, Daemon was happy to comfort you from the nightmares that you suffered for months after the incident

I stands for IDEAL: what are their plans for their object of obsession?

•Daemons plan is to breed you full of as many babies as physically possible

•He plans to fill you with an entire litter of Targaryen babies which is why he spends so much time fucking your cunt as full as he possibly can

J stands for JEALOUSY: how they react when jealous? Do they get jealous?

•110% he does!

•You learned on your wedding day that Daemon was a jealous man when you made the mistake of accepting the proposal to dance from a Lannister

•Growing up your mother always taught you to never turn down a request to dance but as you stood behind your husband while he was crouched over the Lion bashing his head in with a wine goblet from the Kings table, you quickly learned that your husband did not want other men to touch you in any way whatsoever

K stands for KINDNESS: how they act around their object of obsession?

•Daemon is a sweet, loving man…to you and you alone

•No one else should or does expect that kind of treatment from Daemon. The only other people you have hope for are your children since the second you became pregnant Daemon was somehow even more protective of you

•He spends hours every day touching and rubbing your belly, talking to the babies at night in your bed after he has finished fucking you for the evening

•’I want to be sure that they know who I am when they’re born. They’ll know you, you’re their mother but should they not like me I do not know what I would do.’ It was a rare moment of vulnerability that Daemon was showing, something he only did with you.

‘Of course they will know you, my Dragon. You are their father, their protector and they will absolutely adore you!’ You assured him, not liking to see your confident, cocky husband in any kind of self doubting mind set.

‘You always know what to say to calm my nerves…I’m going to keep speaking to them though, just in case.’

L stands for LOVE LETTER: how would they approach their object of obsession?

•You found out about Daemons interest the day that you were told you would be marrying the Targaryen prince

•It had only just been announced that his lady wife had passed tragically in a riding accident and then suddenly your father was telling you that the Prince had all but demanded your hand in marriage and your father had no choice but to say yes (not that he would have said anything else)

M stands for MASK: how different are their public persona from their true selves?

•Daemon isn’t the type of person to hide who he is, what you see is what you get

•He is just as cocky, sarcastic and angry behind closed doors as he is in public when someone upsets him, the only difference is a soft side with his wife and babies where no one else can see

N stands for NAUGHTY: how would they punish their object of obsession?

•If Daemon has to punish you he prefers to lock you in your chambers until you settle down, he doesn’t want to hurt you, but if he has to then you will find it impossible to sit down for a long time

O stands for OPPRESSION: how many rights would they take from their object of obsession?

•You can still do most things, but if you want to go out then you must ask him first

•Being around other men is the only big difference, Daemon doesn’t even want you around your own male family members lest they have an unhealthy obsession with his beautiful wife

P stands for PATIENCE: how patient are they with their object of obsession?

•The man has zero patience and zero chill. None.

Q stands for QUIT: if their object of obsession died or escaped, would they ever be able to move on?

•Died: Daemon would genuinely be torn up about your death and he would have a hard time being close to the child that you brought into the world before dying on the birthing bed

•Escaped: You would never get beyond the front gate and if you did you would be corralled by an angry Blood Worm Dragon blocking your way so escape wasn’t worth the hassle

R stands for REGRET: would they ever regret harming their object of obsession? Would they ever let them go?

•He will never let you go however, every once in a while he will regret harming you when he lets his anger get the best of him, making up for it in his own way by bringing you gifts or taking you for an evening flight (which he knows is your favorite)

S stands for STIGMA: what made their yandere tendencies bloom?

•The moment he saw you he went to the Vale and murdered his wife to ensure no one (the King) could tell him that he could not have you

•He demanded your hand right after and Viserys said he would have to wait at least a week out of respect and to not seem suspicious before he “asked your hand” despite the fact that everyone knew it was no question, you would be his one way or another and the ‘permission’ just determined whether your father needed to die first

T stands for TEARS: how would they react to their object of obsession crying/breaking?

•Daemon hates your tears and when you break down and cry, that is usually the moment he knows that he’s gone too far

•Your husband is the first person to comfort you, especially during your nightmares (that he caused) as he hates seeing you sad or scared

U stands for UNIQUE: something different they would do compared to others yanderes.

•Daemon would often have Caraxes eat whatever man he suspected had an interest in his wife

•He would also leave you with Caraxes when he had business to attend to, knowing Caraxes had taken a liking to you and would viciously protect you (especially when pregnant), the Dragon loving you quite a lot and enjoying the scratches you gave him when he was ordered to protect you. He had killed countless men and women for getting too close while he was on guard (whether they meant you harm or not)

V stands for VICE: what weakness their object of obsession could use against them?

•All you had to do is point and someone is dead

•Also if you want Daemon to be soft and sweet, all you need to do is come up with a ‘reason’ to cry, it was the one thing your husband genuinely could not handle seeing

W stands for WIT’S END: would they hurt their object of obsession?

•Never in any way that would have a lasting impact on you

•Locking you in your chambers wasn’t something that ‘hurt you’ and the only pain Daemon ever caused you physically was when you disobeyed him or questioned/challenged his authority in front of others, and even then it was only blistering your ass (which he would then soothe with creams that he had gotten from the maester once you had truly apologized)

X stands for XOANON: would they worship their object of obsession?

•Daemon is obsessed with you, worship is the word most people would use to describe how he looks at you

•Worship actually didn’t quite capture the true feeling once you had announced your first pregnancy to him and the court, he very nearly fucked you right there in front of the King and the Court, his protective streak instantly growing x10 which no one would have thought possible until they witnessed it

Y stands for YEARN: how long would they pine after their object of obsession before they snap?

•Daemon did not ‘pine’ at all

•The moment he met you he decided that you would be his and since your father was actively looking for a husband for you, he immediately took himself to the Vale and ensured the death of his lady wife Rhea Royce

•The only length of time that he waited was the allotted week that his brother ordered him to wait so that no one would think anything that happened had been Daemons doing, and during that week he had fed 3 different lords to Caraxes for daring to try and court you

Z stands for ZENITH: would they ever break their object of obsession?

•Daemon would not want to break you, he wants you to love him and eventually he does make that happen

•You did try to hold out and not fall for his charm, knowing that everyone around suspected that he had killed his wife to marry you so in a sense once you gave yourself over to the feeling of loving him you did ‘break’ in a way but who wouldn’t when they’re being worshipped and loved by a Targaryen Prince and his giant red dragon?

Daemon Targaryen Masterlist

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