#and like especially when i feel like such a failure for not managing to just pick up my books

[karlastarion]

I'm so curious about Kagha, because she's so different from Halsin. She and Halsin are both wood elves, and I get the sense that Kagha is probably not ~young~ but she's not nearly as old as Halsin. When you deal with the Shadow Druids, she's very quick to defer to him and treat him like a teacher she's disappointed. He probably mentored her, if he's chosen her as his second in command - though, I would bet it's in more of a general thing in the way that the First Druid is everyone's mentor, rather than the clearly more direct and specific mentorship he has with Nettie as a healer.

Canonically, Halsin isn't an exceptionally good leader. He's not bad at it, and he has good instincts. He correctly surmises that after the dust-up with Kagha and the tieflings, the Emerald Grove needs an outsider to step in and lead without being tied to any particular grudges or politics. That's savvy enough that I think Halsin was a good First Druid, he just wasn't especially good or great at it and clearly didn't like the position. At worst, I think he let some situations fester because of his focus on the Shadow Curse.

But I'm not ready to say that he didn't realize Kagha was a proverbial snake in the grass ~the whole time~, because I don't think she was. I think she was genuinely and recently radicalized by the Shadow Druids. I think she probably had something of an edge before, maybe she was a hardass or had a mean streak or something. Regardless of how I feel about the quality of the Shadow Druid subplot (which is that I think its pacing is meh and Kagha's face-turn is way too fast and kind of shitty), I think it speaks to the fact that her care for the Grove is genuine. That perhaps Halsin's failure with her wasn't in not realizing she was A Bad Person Actually, but in not tending to her insecurities or noticing that she might be feeling isolated, if she was so effectively shaken by the Shadow Druids' fearmongering.

The recent wave of IRL cults should have taught us all by now that everyone is susceptible to cult tactics if they're sufficiently scared and alone, and BG3 is a game riddled with various cults. You don't have to already be a bad person, or a stupid or weak person, to fall for them. And I think Kagha's story is way less interesting if you just think she's an evil power hungry shrew too stupid to keep herself from being radicalized.

She clearly has a nasty streak, but her apologies and regrets also sound sincere, if you manage to hear them. Even when she isn't "redeemed", she accepts her punishments, even if she does so bitterly and not believing she was wrong. And I have to wonder just how much of that mean streak is self-defensive rather than inherent in her, how much of it is that she struggles to admit failure and learn from it. Or how much is her modeling Halsin's level of single-minded commitment, picking a methodology or an action and throwing all of her weight behind it, even when it may no longer be working.

I wish characters like Kagha got nearly as much love and fandom development and benefit of the doubt as someone like Ketheric. I think she has a ton of potential for that, and way fewer crimes to her name than other fandom favorites who just happen to also be, you know. Men.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #kagha #halsin #bg3 spoilers #bog post #tbh i get more fond of kagha in every playthrough #also i wonder how much of kagha being so high strung #is BECAUSE halsin was obsessed with the shadow curse #i wonder how much of his responsibility as first druid #were already being performed by kagha #saddled with the tasks but not the responsibility #not the ability to make new decisions #THAT will certainly make someone feel unbalanced and insecure #i like the idea that he chose her because of their differences in temperament perhaps #but how much of that was savvy decision-making #and how much of it was saddling her with extra burdens #to make up for halsin's preoccupation and distraction

[generalsdiary]

what if ratio breaks down and falls apart?

Dr. Ratio (x Aventurine at the end)

warnings: mental breakdown

word count: 1.9k

a/n: lots of ppl seemed to like this idea so here it is, not beta read, ffs come home aventurine

description: Dr. Ratio breaks down (angst), Aventurine mentioned/shows up at one point (fluff dare I say)

his hands shook immensely with the keys in his hand, the heavy doors open and close. he can feel it. he can no longer hold on. being a victim of routine, he manages to push on just a few moments longer, to put away his bag, lock the door, and take off his shoes. few steps through the hallway and it is over. his body trembling as his chest swells up with pain and sadness, so many emotions mixed up in one. filling up in his throat like a peach pit, choking him and making it harder to breathe. he falls to his knees, his breathing heavy, rapid, and irregular. in moments like these, he knows how to take care of himself, how to help himself, how to fix this. but it is too much. he can't. he also... why does everyone get to break down but not him? he can barely breathe in and breathe out, as many thoughts fill his mind.

eyes filling with hot tears except he cannot cry that much, he has always been incapable of actually crying and letting it all out.

like a water dam overflowing and drowning him along with it. the dam filling with water and using it in useful ways until the workers don’t show up, the tools get clogged, old, and broken. the dam overflows. nature always comes back to take its due, to pick up the price, especially human nature.

he isn't enough. he will never be enough. it is a fool's job, what he is trying to achieve. how could he ever spread knowledge everywhere, making it available to everyone? how is that being realistic? hopeful fool, he knows better than to hope. an idiot. a failure. why did he even think he could be capable of doing that? the aeons were right to not recognize him, he isn't worth their attention- he keeps failing. isn't it the definition of insanity to keep doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome? not enough. never enough. such expectations were put on him and he jumped to fulfill them- and when he didn't achieve the last one- to become a true genius, then he failed. failed the mold he was put in. failed the beliefs of everyone around him and their expectations. they were all wrong; everyone who said he could do something, become someone relevant, someone who matters and makes a significant change. and the things he did, well they were never perfect and always could have been done much better. for fuck's sake he fails his students, just how many get the actual knowledge, and how many give up? he isn't good enough, he should be better, and get the knowledge across in a way everyone would accept and know and learn. why is he not good enough? he keeps trying and it is never enough. not once has the universe said, ‘okay, you have done enough, you can rest now.’

why does he keep trying? and he is alone in all of it. who is there who cares for him- who puts his view of self aside, who can.. please.. who can please view him as a human.. a person.. just... as someone who doesn't need to be extraordinary- can he be loved in such a way, appreciated? who would care for him? when all that is said about him is that he is rude, when he only tells the truth and tries to help, he is told that he is insensitive, egotistical, and he is so far from it. why does everybody hate him? aeons, he hates himself. why was he born, created like this? it would've been so much easier to have been born an idiot, dumb, to work a normal job, and be happy.

he stares at an empty spot as these thoughts overtake him, and then he sobs as the next ones come... he wants to be held, oh so much. to be embraced, to be cared for, thought of in a positive way, for his name to be called with love. no one is enough, he isn't enough.

his thoughts keep spiraling in a whirlpool, almost like he is frozen in space. eyes fixed, hands shaking and the occasional warm tear falling down his cheeks, which are now red and hot.

his skin feels like it is burning, the clothes on him overwhelming him but he cannot move, it hurts, it all hurts. why does it hurt so much? this vicious cycle never ends. how could he stand up again when he is falling apart at the seams? is he worth it at all, the life he lives, if he cannot even help himself? he will never be enough. he wants to shout, to yell in frustration and anger- all swallowed in his throat while he continues to sit.. broken on the floor.

his thoughts become more incoherent, how could he.. why.. help.. not enough.. and so on. curses, hatred directed at himself, sorrow, and pity. his ears deaf at any sound, he is so lost in his mind, it is like he isn't even there.

this isn't the first time, but it was never this hard. he picked himself up before; standing, going automatically around his home to take care of his basic needs. but now he has no hope, no care for it, he cannot move. immobile and lost, so… so deep in this vortex.

the doors open and close. there's a voice, he doesn't even register it, “..tas?... home?”

the person makes a few more steps and sees Veritas, sitting on the ground. Veritas manages to register distant footsteps, rushed- it doesn't matter; he isn't even there. only his body is.

the person sits down in front of Veritas and hands him a glass of water. his eyes are unfocused, he appears still, hands on the floor with a slight tremor, cheeks shiny from the tears and a warm red color. instinctively he accepts the glass and drinks the water. the cool fluid makes him consciously blink and float back to the present moment. he registers the voice of the person in front of him.

“Veritas.. I'm here, good- the water is good for you- I'm here, alright?” his eyes focus on the blond man sitting in front of him. Aventurine's eyes are filled with worry and his hands cup Veritas' face, caressing slowly. his voice is calm, “you will be fine- I got you, okay?” Aventurine nods to himself more than to Ratio. his hand moves to the indigo hair, pulling his fingers through the soft locks in a comforting manner. Veritas' eyes are trained on him, full of pain and heartbreak, yet his face is neutral, so hurt.

“your head got to you again? I keep telling you- don't listen to it- it isn't right it only says mean things which aren't true. do you hear me?” the only thing he gets in response is a slow blink from the taller man. and it is enough.

“it tipped over, it isn't as bad as your head claims- don't listen to it, listen to me, focus on me. I’ve got you, I'm here-“ he pulls Veritas into his chest, cradling him in a way. “-and I'm not going anywhere”

fresh tears soak Aventurine's shirt. it hurts to be cared for, to be seen, and for that person to stay and not leave.. it feels undeserving and it just makes him cry harder. he sobs into Aventurine's shoulder, breaking down fully. his voice comes out high-pitched, breaking, “I... I.. it is so hard-” he sobs harder and tightly embraces Aventurine.

“I'm here, you will be okay, this will pass, I have you, don't- don't struggle against them, focus on me, please?” Aventurine pulls away to raise Veritas' chin and meet his eyes, those sunset eyes filled with tears. and he weakly nods.

“focus on me, my voice, Doc, focus on my voice. and I'm warm- you can feel it yes? my chest is warm and my hands- my scent- you can smell the perfume right? focus on me, ground with me. leave that dreadful place- it never did you any good.” he continues using safe words, repeating them, and when Veritas manages to get a grasp on reality once more; he feels empty, numb and Aventurine takes care of him. Aventurine helps him eat a proper meal, bathes with him where he holds him close against his chest, kissing his temple, and repeating that everything will be okay.

Aventurine holds him tightly in bed and whispers only the softest affirmations. before Veritas falls asleep, Aventurine mumbles kind words with his fingers in his hair.

he stays mostly awake that night, just in case Ratio wakes up in distress or from a nightmare. he doesn't mind it. he cares for him, if needed he'd pick his pieces up every day and help him put himself back together. Veritas is his, and he will always be there for him.

the morning turns out to be a slow one. Veritas would tiredly gaze at Aventurine, the blond man asleep into the late morning, and he wouldn't dare start his day- not yet, not now, not without him. Veritas' thoughts are slow this early in the day, they are quiet. he simply observes the younger man. finding some type of solace in it. he doesn't dare touch him as if the beautiful man was a statue made of glass and might break from a single touch.

when his eyes do open he hums and moves to press his face into Veritas' soft chest.

like it is the first time, Ratio is surprised, frozen for a few moments before he relaxes and embraces Aventurine.

“sleep well?”

he nods.

“I rescheduled my stuff, and I hope you will yours too-“, Veritas interrupts him, “..I did.” his voice quiet, monotone.

“today.. today will be easier, okay?” he raises his head, looking up. “I will be with you as long as you need and then some. please be kind to yourself. you need it” he whispers the last sentence and presses his lips into Ratio's cheek.

“I'll try... thank you.. for.. yesterday, dear gambler”

Aventurine nods, “I love you,” he says, easily, as if he didn't have to think those words through before he said them but it conveyed everything he wanted them to say. that he would be there for him, that he'd take care of him, that he would be his.

slight shock is obvious in Veritas’ eyes, that he would be loved gives him a stutter in his response. he feels so vulnerable, bare and naked in front of him. his emotions nude especially after being seen in the state he was in yesterday and despite that... or perhaps specifically because of it... Aventurine said that. with fear, felt on both sides, but also assurance that this is right, that it is a fact he softly says, “I... I love you too.”

beat. both staring into the other's eyes. Veritas cups his cheek. thumb drawing small circles, voice but a whisper, “please don't ever leave me” in that moment he is baren, vulnerable, his cards are on the table for the gambler to gamble off or hold tightly to his chest and fold.

Aventurine answers quickly with a small nervous smile, “the same goes for you too, Doc”

with all those emotions being so loud and scary, Veritas cannot keep up a coy act and even when he does Aventurine sees right through him.

“I promise” Veritas utters and seals it with a soft kiss.

#honkai star rail #dr ratio #hsr #dr ratio angst #analysis #dr ratio fluff #aventurine #aventurine x dr ratio #veritas ratio #aventio #raturine #ratiorine #comfort #veritas ratio angst

[house-of-daena]

my precious experiment [afab.dottore x amab.reader]

contents: no pronouns specified, dom reader/sub dottore, nsfw, fem terms w/ genitalia, dubcon, monsterfucking, biting, blood, masochistic dottore, dacryphilia, monster anatomy, 2 c0cks, breeding kink, monster rut, belly bulge, size kink, viginity taking, oral (giving), typical dottore warnings, dottore tries to pretend he's in control, tell me if i miss anything.

꒰ hm, just some thoughts. sorry if it's kinda bad it's been a while since i've written smut, but i promise the next post will be relatively better. rqs r open btw꒱

usually, miscalculations don't happen in dottore's experiments. sure, his research hits the occasional dead end and failure is inevitable. after all, it is part of the journey to achieve his goals; without failure, how can he improve and ascend into a new realm of knowledge?

but this was unprecedented.

you were a successful result of a recent experiment the doctor had conducted. the tsaritsa wanted more power into the fatui, especially when the traveler was running rampant about. however, you were still a prototype, and due to this, you've become dottore's obedient little errand/guard dog that is at his beck and call instead.

you could talk but chose silence and actions to communicate. dottore discovered you were very easy to please; just mere praise and gentle pats on your head, and you're roaring to take on any task the doctor shall give.

but since you were so obedient, dottore never would have expected you to act out of line. he should've been more prepared for a multitude of scenarios that could put him in danger. you were a beast, at the end of the day.

a beast in heat.

looming over him, your hand pinning his wrists above his head, your body pressed against his. even though your brain was drowning in a haze of lust, you were mindful of his reactions and the profanities spilling out of his lips.

"what do you think you're doing?" he hisses through his sharp teeth, glaring at you through his mask. you only let out a deep rumble in your chest as a reply, your free hand trailing down his torso, your sharp claws tearing cuts into his clothes. "don't tell me you think i'd take care of your heat." he felt a sense of dread, an emotion unfamiliar, throughout his entire body when you let out a purr, confirming his assumption.

dottore can't fathom the idea. him, the 2nd of the 11 fatui harbingers, catering to your needs? ridiculous! it should be you who'd be pleasing him! he squirmed against your grip, kicking and thrashing against your hold. you loosened your grasp, sensing his distress, but no matter what dottore did, you were too big, too strong, for him to manage an escape.

this is the first time dottore has cursed himself for creating such a successful experiment.

as if you could read into his mind, you pull back from his neck, blinking your clouded eyes at him. you stared deeply into his soul that dottore could feel the hairs at the back of his neck stand. then, you spoke, gently and softly, in contrast to your beastly form, "do you have any precautions on an event like this?" you ask, your claws slowly digging into the tender flesh of his thigh, making him bite his bottom lip to suppress any embarrassing noise that threatens to leave his throat.

it was rare for you to speak. he'd only hear you let out small grunts when he injects you with a big needle or training with other fatui members. hearing you speak out a whole sentence sent an inexplicable shiver down his spine, and he felt his breath hitch.

when he didn't answer, too distracted by the tingling sensations on his body at the mere sound of your voice, you settled yourself between his legs and pressed yourself against his crotch. dottore's eyes widened, and he almost let out a gasp.

you were so warm against him, even when your clothes separated your skin from his. he could feel it straining and twitching against your pants and slowly rubbing yourself against him. fuck, it was dangerously big. he doesn't remember giving you something like that! somehow, the doctor struggled to think of anything else other than the heat pooling in the pit of his stomach, gulping as he tried to regain his composure.

"have you made any suppressants for me?" you inquire once more, pressing a wet kiss against his cheek as you slowly lifted him up with just a hand, letting his wrists go to wrap his legs around your waist, to which he absentmindedly complied. "or did you plan to neglect me until my heat subsides?" your lips moved languidly against his marred skin, careful at his sensitive spots and started nipping at his neck, your sharp teeth forming aching bruises.

dottore grit his teeth as his hands shakily rested on your shoulders, weakly gripping them as he tried not to get too lost in the foreign feeling burning inside of him. he has never experienced such a thing. it was quite overwhelming, especially when you just grabbed him in the middle of his work and pinned him against the wall so suddenly. "you... were very well-behaved, i— ngh! i hadn't taken into account that your animalistic parts would go as f-far as giving you a heat cycle..."

he sounded like he was a bit quizzical at your predicament, probably planning to run down some tests on you later to further understand your form. it made your heart flutter when he spoke so analytically, especially towards you. you adored the doctor so much, and he sounded heavenly when he was holding back moans and catching his breath in between his words.

"then, since you are my creator, you should take responsibility for whatever happens to my body..." dottore finally couldn't hold back and let out a small shriek when you sank your teeth onto a sensitive area on his neck, hard enough to draw blood. you relished the iron taste against your tongue, so you bit him again and again, leaving red bruising marks all over his neck and down to his collarbone. all he could do was helplessly whine at your ministrations and claw at your broad shoulders, trembling against your body as he slowly descended into madness.

the tips of his ears reddened when you let out a chuckle, holding him so close in your arms. you had barely done anything, and he was already shaking. my doctor is beyond adorable, you thought to yourself.

you were just so taken by him, could he even blame you?

so utterly debauched by his everything. his body littered with beautiful scars and marks that reminded you of blank canvases gaining life and meaning with gorgeous colors and patterns, his red eyes that could easily pierce through your beastly facade, and his scent, alluring, addicting.

you could smell him everywhere you went inside the laboratory. it doesn't help that he has multiple segments that smell just like him. it drove you crazy, it was dizzying just to breathe whilst you stood on guard with the gnawing desire that was slowly consuming you. it only greatly intensified with your heart.

you didn't understand why your instincts wanted him. it was as if it was just in your system to want him, need him. your blood boils just by having him trapped in your arms, and your body reacts too aggressively when his skin touches yours. you just want him to keep him close to you, to bury your cocks inside his holes and fill him up to the point that you know he'll have your pups.

it was maddening.

but you're a patient little pet. you have enough self-control to hold yourself back so as to not upset your owner, creator. you respect your owner first and foremost. you purr and nuzzle against his neck, peppering wet, apologetic kisses on his skin, hoping it was enough to allow you to indulge your animalistic urges and ravish him until he could only think, feel and need your cocks.

"what's your verdict, doctor?" your voice seemed to snap him out of his trance, head tilting upwards to look at you. "will you help me?"

dottore, for the first time in years, felt his heart racing. he didn't even think it was even possible anymore. it felt so odd to have you towering over him; he wanted to yell at you, to punish you for your misbehavior and perhaps deem you as a failure of an experiment. but the longer this went on, the more his body began to react so unusually...

he could feel himself throb between his legs, and he struggled to breathe. any coherent thought he had was thrown out the window, and his mind was vacant. he knew his pussy was fucking soaked, clenching onto nothing as you rubbed your crotch against his. he didn't understand why he seemed to like being overpowered so easily.

the only distant memory he could recall when he felt the same way was when he was back at the akademiya, but that was only because of his hormones, and he has never really dealt with such time-consuming activities.

but now, he can't find himself to deny you. how could he? you were practically holding him down until he couldn't move. who knows what you'd do to him if he were to refuse?

with a last attempt to not appear as pathetic as he was at the moment, he let out a shaky scoff and straightened his back. "fine," he relents with a firm tone, dazedly glaring at you, "but only to... further investigate the state your... body is in..." it was a flimsy excuse to save his ego, but it was enough for you.

you gave him a peck on the lips, and your tail began to wag enthusiastically behind you. "thanks, doc. i'll be gentle with your first time."

oh, how you adore the look he gave you. it was simply too obvious based on his reactions. oh well, his ego will be ruined into nothing later on.

archons, why did he agree?

dottore felt like he was dying. this was a pleasure he never thought of experiencing in his whole life. your monstrously long and wide tongue slipping so easily inside his pussy and stretching his insides with little concern got him doubling back. he has your head locked between his thighs, but you didn't seem to care as you relentlessly lapped at the sweet ichor that dripped between his legs and wriggled your tongue as deep as you could inside his walls.

oh gods, it felt so good. he was practically riding your mouth as his hips stuttered against the movements of your tongue. he felt like he was going to explode in pleasure, his sensitive parts that have never been explored by another quivering at each touch. the pad of your thumb rubbed incessantly against his clit, and he can't help but throw his head back, letting out such obscene sounds you never thought you'd hear coming from his lips.

your claws, which you have dulled for his convenience, buried deep into his other hole, covered in his own spit. you thrust your claws in rhythm with your tongue's movement, and he was losing his mind. it felt too good— it was like he ascended into the heavens. his body burned hotter and hotter, and his walls convulsed at the slick feeling of your tongue.

his hands grabbed hold of your horns, tugging on it so harshly as if he was about to tear it from your forehead. you could only groan at the aching feeling, speeding up your movements and making him choke on his own moans.

"f-fuck! slow down i— ahn! i-i cAN'T! OH! hgnnn..." he slurs out, his body so overwhelmed at the mind-numbing pleasure, but his words contradicted his actions. his hips moved erratically to meet your thrusts from both your claws and your tongue, clenching on them as if he never wanted to let you go.

and when you finally deemed he was ready, holes stretched out enough to take your cocks, you gripped his hips to stop him from moving. slowly, you let your tongue slide out of his cunt and your fingers leave his ring of muscles. he whined at the sudden emptiness, glaring at you with his watery, ruby eyes and scowling. "i was so close! why the hell did you-"

you easily, but gently, moved him down to your lap, allowing him to straddle you as you sit up. your tail immediately coiled around his waist possessively as you purred at him. dottore gulped when he understood what you wanted, and watched as you removed your belt and unbuttoned your pants.

okay, dottore definitely does not remember giving you two cocks. did it just develop while you were in the incubation pod? having one massive cock is already too much for dottore to handle, but two?

your tail moved his body, hovering his holes over your cocks. he jolts from how warm your cock heads were when it pressed against his holes. he grabbed your shoulder and his eyes were blown wide with panic. "w-wait- that won't fit!"

you only cooed, your hands roaming his body so tenderly as if to ease his tensed muscles. you didn't speak, but your eyes told him everything, 'we'll make it fit.'

before he could argue with you, you've already aligned yourself and slowly pushed his hips down onto your thick cocks. your girth was too much, his insides burned at the stretch as your cocks dragged against his walls as he kept sucking you in. you were barely halfway in, and he already felt like he was going to pass out.

you were nothing short but sweet to him, wiping his tears (when did he start crying?) and cooing softly into his ear. you were taking it considerably slow just for him, despite your animalistic urges telling you to just slam him down and fuck him.

dottore took in a deep breath as he wrapped his arms around your neck. leaning back and gritting his teeth, he tried to keep his body lax as you eased him down on your lengths until you were fully sheathed inside him. he raked his hands through your hair, and you immediately leaned against his touch, following the warmth of his hand.

"good beast," he utters in your ears, and he hears you trilling happily at his praise. you grabbed his face with your hand and pulled him into a kiss, tilting his head to devour his mouth. he moaned at the taste of himself that lingered on your tongue, closing his eyes.

though his praise did the opposite of what he wanted when you slowly lifted him up from your cocks until it was only the tips were inside of him, too distracted by the dizzying kiss, before slamming him down onto your lap.

dottore pulled away to let out a scream, eyes rolling back as you bounced his body up and down at your cocks. it felt like you've punched all the air out his lungs, trying to split his body in half, every time his holes takes your dicks whole again.

fuck, he felt so good. his insides felt so warm and tingly, practically carving his walls into the shape of your cocks. each thrust, he lets out these cute "ah! ah! ah!", babbling about how you're too big and that he can't take it and that he's about to break. but you were too far gone, letting the beast inside of you take control as you fuck into dottore relentlessly, again and again, burying your dicks impossibly deep inside of him.

when he looked down, he sees a small bump that disappears and reappears whenever he bounces. he looks at it in awe, drooling all over your chest and marveling at how big you are. his holes clenched impossibly tighter around your cocks, and you growled at the feeling. his gummy walls felt like absolute heaven, and you picked up your pace.

dottore was doing everything he can to not pass out. his throat was beginning to hurt from how much he was screaming and moaning and chanting your name over and over. he was seeing stars and his nails rake down the bare skin of your back, leaving marks and making them bleed.

"f-fuckk! too b-big!" he moans, trying to catch his breath, "s' good! d-don't stop!"

and you took that order to heart. even when dottore has begged you to stop, that his mind was so numb he could barely form coherent sentences, that his holes were so raw and spent from how long you've been fucking him, that he has come so many times he can't even cum anymore, yet you still continue to fuck him.

"n-no more! fuck! i-i can't- i've already cum so much- please!" he begs, vision blurry from his tears. "ahn! h-hannh! fuck im cumming again! imcummingimcumming-"

he was barely awake at this point, laying flat on his stomach as he weakly grips on the sheets for his dear life. you were not satisfied just yet, even if you've filled him up to the brim. he could feel his stomach swell with your warmth, but you only kept going, groaning into his ear and purring happily from the pleasure.

you were going to get it after you're done. he was going to make you feel the pain that even a monster like you can't bear it. he swears on it pathetically, hiccuping between airy moans. he couldn't feel his lower half anymore, but he still tries to move against your thrusts.

it was so addicting. the pleasure, the high... he will do something about your behavior later... but for now, he'll allow you to continue filling him up with your cum. he was conducting a test on the limitations of your body, after all.

#» asmo's writings #» dottore #dottore x reader #dottore x male reader #sub dottore #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x male reader #sub genshin #sub genshin impact #genshin smut

[aphroditelovesu]

Yan! PJO + HOO the first time they tell that they love the Reader? You can choose the characters you want to write! Love you work 🥰💕

❝ 🌊 — lady l: I only did a few, since you gave me the freedom of choice. I hope you like it and if you want a part 2 with other characters, I will do it! Good reading and forgive me for any mistakes!

❝warnings: none, just fluff, very soft!yandere and me being a cheesy romance reader.

❝🌊characters: percy jackson, annabeth chase, grover underwood, luke castellan, jason grace, nico di angelo, will solace, piper mclean and leo valdez.

❝dividers by: @cafekitsune 💙

❝Yan!PJO/HOO ❝The first time they say: ''I love you.''

Percy Jackson had never been good at expressing his feelings in the healthiest way. He knew he loved you, he knew it from the first time he met you but he didn't know how to put those feelings into words, he just knew how to show them.

And he showed in an unconventional way how much he cared about you, how much he loved you. His favorite way and the one that worked the most, in his mind, was being a bully to those who bothered you. He once almost drowned Clarisse to death after she knocked you down in training. Percy only stopped when you begged him to do so.

He knew there was failure at the moment, so he decided to have another strategy. He needed to confess what he was feeling, get those suffocating feelings out. With the advice of some friends, Percy decided to ask you to go swimming with him. When you were sitting on the riverbank, chatting away, Percy used his powers and made several hearts with the water, along with the sunset, it became a romantic environment.

He got close to her face, held her hands tenderly and whispered loud enough, ''I love you.''

When his lips connected, Percy knew he had known true happiness.

Annabeth Chase always knew what she wanted and when she wanted it and she knew she wanted you. She knew it since she met you at Camp Half-Blood and she knew you were meant to be hers.

Due to her more reserved personality regarding her feelings, Annabeth didn't have much of an idea of how to express them to you. A simple ''I love you'' could be enough, but she wanted something more. She was proud and wanted something that really screamed for her.

So she spent weeks planning how everything would go. The atmosphere, the lighting and the exact words she would say to you. Annabeth had a whole plan, everything was carefully planned. She invited you to go with her to a more distant part of the camp, where you could be alone.

Everything was going as he wanted, the silence was good, the light was beautiful and most importantly, you were there. After you ate some fruit and talked a little, Annabeth knew this was the time. But she got nervous and could no longer say the speech she had planned, so all that came out of her lips was, ''I love you.''

But that was enough. She was slightly blushing and felt her chest fill with happiness when you said you felt the same and when you kissed her.

Grover Underwood is much more cautious in its approach. He is a satyr who is shyer than the others, more reserved, especially towards you. He knew he was in love, but he wasn't sure if you loved him back.

And the gods knew how much it would break him if you rejected him.

So Grover chose to just be friends with him, to yearn for you from afar. He was satisfied with this choice, with this position in his life, but it didn't take long for him to be consumed by jealousy when he saw another demigod or satyr near you. That's when he knew he couldn't stay in the shadows any longer.

He asked Percy and Annabeth for advice, who advised him to be direct, but be more romantic when confessing to you. Grover was still afraid of being rejected, but he couldn't live with himself if he didn't at least try. When the moon was in the sky and the stars were shining and the two of you just watched it, that was when he gained courage.

Grover was a bit confused with his words, but he managed to say everything he wanted. When he said, ''I love you'', you pulled him into a breathless kiss, sealing your love. Grover almost melted in his arms.

Luke Castellan was much more interested in his revenge against the gods than in his feelings. He tried at all costs to ignore them, that is, ignoring you, but it got to the point where he could no longer ignore what he felt.

He was soon overcome by feelings of jealousy, of anger that left him breathless when he saw you near another demigod. When you spent your time with others other than him. He knew he was being a hypocrite, after all, he was the one who left but that didn't mean you could replace him.

When he saw you laughing with one of Aphrodite's children, that's when he knew he had to make it clear who you belonged to. During a cold, calm night at camp, Luke invited you to walk along the beach because he wanted to talk to you.

His eyes widened slightly when the son of Hermes held your hands and with gentle words, the gentlest you had ever heard come out of his mouth, he confessed how he felt to you. You were surprised, even more so when you heard him say, ''I love you.''

Luke waited for your return and when you said you felt the same, he kissed you. For the first time in a long time, he actually felt happy.

Jason Grace was nervous about his feelings, shy even. He was confident in many ways, but he didn't know how to tell you, the person he loved most, how he felt. He had no idea how to make you see the truth, see what he really felt and not just words that could be empty depending on the context and the person.

He was sitting by the lake, watching the gentle waves as he tried to collect his thoughts. Jason knew he needed to find the courage to express his feelings, but every time he tried, the words seemed to slip out of his mouth, leaving him even more frustrated.

He picked up a smooth pebble and began to throw it into the water, watching the circles form and slowly dissipate. It was like his feelings, he thought. They were there, clear as water, but they were lost before reaching the surface.

The sun was setting over the horizon, dyeing the sky in orange and pink tones, while Jason felt increasingly restless. He knew he needed to find a way to show the truth, to make you understand without his words faltering. With his mind made up, he got up and walked to where you were sitting, looking at the sunset.

With a lump in his throat and his heart pounding, he sat next to her, took a deep breath and, on impulse, took her hand and let the words full of feelings come out of his mouth, in love, ''I love you. '', it was said and when he finished speaking, you kissed him passionately, admitting that you loved him too. Jason could die right then and there and he would be happy.

Nico di Angelo was afraid to admit what he felt, he was afraid for you. He didn't want to accept that he was in love, no, that he loved you deeply because he was afraid. Being a demigod was already a danger in itself, but being a child of the Big Three, a forbidden child, only made everything more difficult. But he was selfish, he couldn't stay away from you.

He struggled daily with his own feelings. The weight of being a demigod, a son of Hades, added an extra burden to his already tormented heart. Nico tried hard to hide his passion for you, fearing the consequences of this forbidden love.

Yet his soul longed to be close to you, even if it meant defying divine rules and risking his own safety. He found himself torn between the responsibility to protect himself and the uncontrollable need to be by her side. Every moment together was an internal battle for Nico.

He tried to be distant, but your presence next to him was constant. His eyes held deep secrets, and his silence hid the intensity of what he felt.

One day, when the pressure became unbearable, he summoned the courage to confess. With hesitant words, he revealed the whirlwind of emotions he carried with him. He was afraid of her reaction, but he could no longer deny the love that consumed him. Nico just let the words come out, he didn't try to stop them or control them, he just vented his feelings and when he said, ''I love you'', that's when he knew there was no going back. When you kissed him and returned his feelings, Nico almost cried.

Will Solace was excited to confess to you, to the person he loved so much. He could already imagine your future together and happily. But he was still unsure how to confess to you and he knew it would need to be at least perfect.

He was determined to make this confession a memorable moment. Will spent days thinking about how to express his feelings in the most sincere and meaningful way possible. One afternoon, while walking through the Camp, he saw some flowers that were planted by Demeter's children and, after asking their permission, he had an idea.

With determination, Will began to set the stage for his confession. The chosen location was a clearing near a waterfall, a peaceful place full of meaning for both of them. He spent hours arranging the petals, creating a delicate, winding path to a central point, where he positioned a carpet of grass, adorned with more flowers, forming a heart.

When you arrived at the place, with your heart pounding, Will took a deep breath and, with all sincerity and love, expressed his feelings. He talked about how much the person meant to him, how precious every moment shared was, and how he envisioned a future filled with adventure and joy together.

''I love you.'' Will said, his eyes shining with love. He waited for his reaction and when you hugged him, kissed him, he knew it was worth it. You were worth it.

Piper McLean was confident that you loved her back, not more than she did because no one else could love you like she did. She was very confident and knew exactly what to say and what to do to tell you how she felt. For her, all that was needed was words and a kiss to seal everything. She was a daughter of Aphrodite, after all, no matter how different she is from her half-siblings.

Her confidence was like an aura around her as she approached. Piper knew how to seduce with words, but this time, it was something deeper, something that went beyond the persuasion skills typical of a son of Aphrodite.

She approached you with a smile, her eyes full of determination and tenderness. It was like she knew exactly what you were thinking, like she could read your mind. With a gentle touch to her face, she whispered words that would echo in her mind for a long time.

''I love you.'' It was her first words after a long look and when she saw your face blush slightly, Piper knew what she would have to do.

You felt the warmth of her hand on her face, her eyes shining with a rapturous sincerity. Piper approached slowly, lips hovering close to hers, an emotionally charged silence stretching between you. When they broke apart, she looked into his eyes, a tender smile playing on her lips. There were no more doubts, no words needed. What existed there was a mutual understanding, a palpable love that no divine power could overcome.

Leo Valdez was always that type of person who lit up any room with his contagious energy and playful way. His relaxation and optimism were like magnets, attracting those around him. However, behind his constant jokes and his eccentricity, there was something deeper that he couldn't easily express: his love for you.

He looked for ways to show his feelings, but his mischievous nature and his difficulty in saying what he felt complicated him. He wrote letters, tried to be more serious at times, but always ended up turning everything into a joke, too nervous to express his true affection.

One day, in the middle of one of your games, Leo suddenly stopped, looked into your eyes and, with a somewhat awkward smile, said: "Did you know that I love you?" You almost spat out the drink you were drinking, without having not sure if he was just joking or serious.

When it became clear that it wasn't a joke, you stayed quiet for a few seconds, until Leo pulled you into a hug, placing his head in the crook of your shoulder. You closed your eyes and melted into the warm embrace.

''I love you.'' Leo whispered, holding you tightly.

#percy jackson #yandere percy jackson x reader #yandere pjo #pjo #yandere percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #annabeth chase x reader #yandere annabeth chase x reader #yandere annabeth chase #yandere grover underwood #grover underwood x reader #yandere grover underwood x reader #luke castellan x reader #yandere luke castellan #yandere luke castellan x reader #nico di angelo x reader #yandere nico di angelo #yandere nico di angelo x reader #yandere jason grace #jason grace x reader #yandere will solace #will solace x reader #yandere will solace x reader #piper mclean x reader #yandere piper mclean #yandre piper mclean x reader #yandere leo valdez #leo valdez x reader #yandere leo valdez x reader #imagine

[faevi]

GOJO SATORU WAKES YOU UP - (smut)

Scenario: Gojo Satoru promised to help you wake up on time and fix your sleeping schedule. He decides to use his own methods. (SMUT).

Word Count: 3,890.

Content / Trigger Warning: female reader (she/her), somnophilia, cunningulous, finger sucking, gagging, tasting of oneself(?), fingering, squirting, praise, a little bit of degradation / humiliation, a sprinkle of possessiveness, hair pulling, marking with hickies, pet-names, slight size kink, gojo being hot?

Please let me know if i missed anything - if i have, it’s genuinely unintentional.

Note: As you can see, I'm slowly getting back into writing cause I miss it. So it might be a liiiiittle bit rusty. This is my first Satoru piece! I plan to write many more. This isn't proofread / edited - So please just ignore any mistakes lkdfgfd. I also tried to follow the aesthetic trends of how everyone posts their writing pieces?? Editing is hard. I hope someone reads this and likes it (: Please let me know if you do!

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS, PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT!!!

Satoru’s warm gaze never left the bed. Even as he blindly wraps the leather strap around his wrist, long fingers sliding the strap through the metal half circle, prick poking into the hole and tightens the watch. He decided to let you sleep in for an extra hour as he prepared himself for work. It’s difficult for the tall male to not indulge in spoiling you, especially when you look so cute curled up and drool seeping out onto the pillow.

Still…. He made a promise to both himself and you that he’d help you improve your sleeping schedule and limit sleeping in. It pains his heart whenever he watches you get upset from wasting hours of your day. Satoru gently sprays his cologne, dabbing it against the sides of his neck and wrists before setting the fancy-looking bottle down amongst your many that he’s purchased for you. He checks the time on his watch, already unbuttoning the few buttons of his white dress shirt. It’s 8:10 AM and he has to leave soon.

The white-haired male opts out on waking you up in a usual loud-playful manner of his. Simply because, well, you’re looking too cute. Just how you manage to coax him into letting you sleep in without even having to lift a finger. Satoru approaches the shared bed, feet silent against the carpet floor before he lowers one knee against the mattress, feeling it sink beneath his weight as he leans down, large hand sliding from your waist to hug around your stomach.

“Baby, it’s time to wake up..” Satoru speaks softly, voice his usual low and soothing. He scatters kisses against your bare shoulder, fingers gently brushing against your stomach before his palm presses against it. You only stir a little in your peaceful slumber, curling up further and pitifully trying to pull the blankets over your head. Satoru snorts, endeared by how you are just not a morning person at all. His loving attempt was a failure and he watches as you continue to sleep, wondering what you’re dreaming about.

Strands of white hair fall over his crystal blue eyes as he presses his bigger form against you, almost smothering you but he keeps his weight off of you, trying to peek at your face beneath the blankets. “If you wake up now, I’ll take you out for breakfast.” Satoru offers, hands on your body stopping as he waits to see if that temptation would have gotten a response. Nothing. Only soft breathing. ‘How can someone be such a heavy sleeper’, he thinks in almost disbelief. Satoru rolls his eyes before he stands up at the edge of the bed, hands tucking into the pockets of his black slacks. The sadistic, playful side within him calls to rile you up in the early morning by yanking the blankets and dragging your body off of the mattress but…

His heart just squeezes at the sight of the bundle of blankets forming barriers around you. Nothing is tucked in tightly, thanks to the fun last night and so instantly, an idea pops into his head. He has access. Satoru is often fantasizing about you. Hell, it feels like it’s every second of the day. It’s a miracle that he’s even able to focus on work or crack a joke to annoy his co-workers. Satoru is just the best at multi-tasking and right now, he craves to devour you and wake you up… eventually. Technically it’s multi-tasking.

Satoru bends over, lifting the blankets up cautiously from the bottom until he could see your bare legs. His heart begins to thump faster with excitement at the thought of touching you when you’re at your most vulnerable; cock twitching in his slacks. He flicks the blankets over to keep your legs exposed, hands rolling up the sleeves of his tight fitted dress shirt before he lowers his upper body onto the mattress, one hand guiding the blankets over his head until he finds himself trapped between your legs, hungry gaze falling onto your pussy.

Even with the darkness clouding around him from the blankets, Satoru can see everything. Your cunt already lightly coated in a light sheen of slick. Appearing so inviting for the taller male. He groans quietly, large hands cupping the back of your thighs and pauses for a moment. You don’t even squirm from the new touch. Whatever you’re dreaming about must be good. That, or your trust in him is so deep that it reaches sleep. He guides your legs over his broad shoulders, shifting himself so his knees are planted on the carpet, the length of your legs staying over his shoulders as he presses soft kisses to your inner thighs, tongue sliding out to teasingly dance across your smooth skin. His love-marks from last night only encourage him, lips latching onto your warm flesh to suck harshly to form another; now starting to feel you squirm a little.

You whine softly in your sleep, trying to roll onto your side but it fails as his strength easily keeps you flat on your back; body thinking nothing of it as you continue your peaceful slumber. He clicks his tongue in disapproval, though lips curled in amusement. “A sleeping beauty, all mine for the taking.” Satoru mumbles beneath his breath, fingers squeezing your flesh roughly before inching up until his long index finger glides between your folds. It slides so easily. Wet, already. He groans, pressing his crotch against the edge of the bed to try and contain himself. Invading your wet needy cunt with his cock would definitely wake you up but he thinks you need to earn it and you’re unable to do so in such a slumber.

Satoru is always in absolute awe when it comes to the sight of your pussy becoming so easily aroused just from his touch. Even as you sleep. Two of his fingers continue to cautiously glide up and down between your slick covered folds, grinning a little at noticing your thighs quivering from the careful touch. Even your hole clenches around nothing in response, desperate to be filled. Your eyebrows furrow, tilting your head into the pillow to lazily nuzzle against it in your sleep, inhaling the scent of the white-haired male that lingers. “Fuck, baby..” Satoru mumbles, two of his fingers pressing against your folds until they part to reveal your sensitive clit and needy hole. Strings of slick become visible and Satoru is always easily tempted. He drags his tongue between to break the strings, pleased by tasting you further.

With silent frustration towards the blankets hiding your face, Satoru swiftly yanks them off until the pair of you are exposed, blankets discarded on the floor. He coos mockingly as you begin to shiver from the cold. “Poor baby girl, needs warming up.” He whispers, toned arms wrapping around your thighs to keep them in place over his shoulders. Your inner thighs squeeze against his face, piercing blue eyes focusing on your sleeping face as he quickly dives in to devour you, growling lowly. His lips pressing sweetly against your sopping pussy, wet muscle dragging between your folds, moans muffled as he taste your sweet juices on his daring tongue. His mind going wild with the idea of what he could do to you as you sleep so deeply. It tempts him so much that Satoru thinks of testing further other times.

A whimpering moan parts from your sleeping lips, face scrunching up as pleasure spreads through your body from your core, fist bunching the sheets up. You stir in your slumber only slightly and for once, Satoru is glad you don’t wake up instantly. He feels powerful, being able to touch and kiss you when you’re completely vulnerable but still feeling the absolute bliss that is his tongue. Short nails dig into your thighs, pressing his face further between your legs as his open mouth makes out hungrily with your cunt. He could barely breathe from how firmly he’s pressing his face into your core, only inhaling the scent of your sex. His tongue laps up your sweetness before he leans in to press sloppy kisses to your throbbing clit, sucking harshly and tongue rubbing against the bud until he feels your legs tense up and tremble, pitifully trying to contain the ecstasy you begin to feel from his eager mouth never parting from your lower lips.

Tongue swirls around the nub lightly between his needy kisses, juices smearing across his handsome face. Blindly, your hand reaches down towards the source, fingers threading through his white hair. You begin to wake up. Slowly. Not truly able to get out of your slumber but, you feel the sweet pleasure wash over you constantly and your mind begins to seek for answers. “A-Ah… Wha— Nn…” You moan out, unable to form words from the cloud of sleepiness hanging over your head. What is going on? Something feels so good… You could barely lift it off of the pillows, eyes glancing down. You feel face get hot when realisation starts to hit you; Satoru is gazing back up at you. The piercing blue eyes wide and manic with a mixture of excitement & hunger. He’s eating you out like a starved man.

Satoru barely lifts his mouth to speak, voice dripping with lust and sounding breathless. “Good morning, princess. Finally awake, huh? Took me to touch your needy cunt for you to wake up? Filthy. My dirty little slut, hm?” The degrading words slip out through a teasing purr, prompting your free hand to pathetically try to cover your face. You feel your heart flutter, head dizzy with lustful thoughts. Drowsiness hands over your head but, it doesn’t stop your cravings starting to form. You couldn’t deny that the sadistic ways Satoru shows only causes your pussy to clench around nothing; wishing to be stretched out by his thick, pulsating cock.

“Nn, ‘toru, please—”

“No cock for you.”

He could practically read your mind by knowing you too well. That’s what you get for refusing to wake up in the first place, you suppose. Especially since you begged him to help you fix your awful habit. Satoru may love to spoil you, shower you in love and pleasure but, he can be almost scary with how firm he is with punishments. This isn’t the worst and so you accept it. You pout sleepily, eyes droopy as you watch the tall male bury his mouth against your wet cunt against, flustered by the sounds of just how excited your body is. It’s an addicting sight to see. A tall man lapping up your slick, groaning quietly from the delicious taste of you. He could taste you for hours on end if he could. Moans of his name part from you as you feel his tongue rub relentlessly against your pulsing clit, slurping loudly as his lips move against your folds, drinking every drop that dares to seep out. “Fuck, you taste so good.” Satoru groans, lips dragging down until his tongue teases your hole. You see stars, gasping sharply as you pull on the strands of his silky white hair.

Satoru groans from the ache he feels, head tilting back away from your hand to feel more of the painful tug, tongue licking over your fluttering hole, gently prodding at it. You anticipate it and, that’s why Satoru pulls away. He’s kneels up and grins down at you, admiring the way your body trembles so cutely beneath him. Your slick is dripping down his chin, coating his lower face. Your face falls from the loss of pleasure, attempting to whine in complaint. “Satoru, come on…” It does nothing, asides from making his cock strain even further against his slacks. Satoru takes his sweet time, wiping his face with his hand, watching as a string of your mess connects his fingers together.

“Dirty girl.” He comments before bringing his hand towards your face. “Open wide.” Satoru orders, voice smooth and instantly, you part your lips to happily take his long fingers into your mouth. Even this is spoiling. Satoru knows you have a wild fetish for his hands and so, if it’s not his cock that you can take; you’ll eagerly take his fingers down your throat. Your needy moans are muffled as you suck your own sweetness off of his fingers. The pads of his fingers press against your soft wet muscle, sliding them further down and watches intently as you swallow around them, his gaze darkening. Your throat muscles constrict around the invasion, causing you to gag audibly but you continue to suck like the filthy whore you are for this man.

“So good for me, aren’t you? Taking everything I give you.” He speaks soothingly, his free hand caressing your stomach. His other hand continues to slide long, slender fingers in and out of your mouth. You whimper, looking up at him with an ‘innocent’ gaze as you continue to obediently suck, only able to taste yourself, few droplets escaping down your chin. Satoru feigns calmness, checking the time on his watch. You couldn’t help but think how hot it is when he even checks the time. You’ve fallen that deep for the tall male. He’s definitely going to be late to work. Frankly, he doesn’t fucking care. They need him more than he needs them. What he truly needs? You. Always. Every shape and form. Still, this isn’t about him and so with every fibre of his being, Satoru ignores his cock, even though it throbs badly & craving to be touched.

“If you promise me to wake up properly when I wake you, I’ll let you come.” Satoru promises, slipping his fingers out of your mouth, thumb swiping gently against your lower lip. “P-Please, I promise! I’ll wake up on time, I swear.. I’ll listen to you, always. Please.” You beg, voice raspy from the lack of talking and having fingers deep down your throat. “Okay, baby~.” He coos, leaning down to press a loving kiss to your soft tiers, unable to deny how cute you are when you beg for him. You could smell is heavenly cologne gently waft over you from how close he is. One of your favourite scents. “Still, no cock.” He whispers breathlessly against your lips, hand trailing down to between your legs. You pout at him from denying you his cock once more, arms wrapping around his neck to keep him close.

He lovingly rubs his nose against yours, obliging your clinginess by keeping his bigger form pressed against you in an embrace, scattering kisses against your jawline as his long fingers meet your needy core once more. He doesn’t tease you by dragging out his time with you, two of his fingers rub against your quivering hole before finally pushing in slowly. They slide in so easily. Even if it’s just his fingers, Satoru groans at the feeling of your tight, velvety walls cling around his digits, squeezing. Your breathing becomes erratic from feeling the sweet stretch around his digits; nothing compared to the entire length of Satoru’s thick cock but, his fingers still feel so heavenly inside of you. You briefly wonder if you could just live your life with a part of him always inside of you.

You’re clinging onto him, upper body rising off of the bed and his free arm wraps around you to keep you pressed against him, soft lips still attached to your jawline, sucking firmly enough to leave a bruise. Another possessive mark to wear with pride. His long fingers pump deep inside of you, feeling them drag along your warm slick walls as they push in and out. Moans just spill from you and Satoru feels so damn aroused just from how needy and precious you sound. Your slick already dripping onto the sheets as he continues to pound his fingers into your tight cunt roughly, angling them until—

“Oh!” You gasp sharply when a jolt of ecstasy rushes over your entire body, upper body jerking upwards from the sudden sensation. Satoru knows where to find your sweet spot quickly and is already eager to abuse it until he witnesses pretty tears in your eyes, sobbing his name out over and over like your own prayer. The white-haired male keeps you trapped beneath his large frame, plunging his fingers desperately, rubbing against your g-spot and keeping his blue eyes focused on your visage. Fuck, it really turns him on to see your face scrunch up and mouth hanging open as you’re unable to contain yourself, crying out for him.

You choke on a sob, toes curling against the crinkled sheets and bare breasts jiggling from the impact of Satoru’s fingers moving, encouraging your hips to move as you grind down onto them. You feel complete bliss, not able to feel flustered like usual from the wet squelching sounds of your throbbing pussy. Pleasure in the form of electricity just shoots through your body, trying so hard to contain yourself by tensing up. Satoru knows you’re pathetic when it comes to that. It’s adorable, really. He enjoys watching you try to hide how good it feels before you’re babbling out his name, screaming for him.

Just as you are now. From his fingers alone. You bite down on his shoulder, trembling hands holding onto him as you cry out for him, tears glued to your long pretty lashes. Your stomach is feeling so hot and tight, throbbing walls clenching around his relentless fingers. “Sweet girl, need to come?” Satoru chuckles softly, warm breath fanning against the side of your face. The free arm holding himself up aches a little but that is nothing compared to his strength. Though, he knows you’d probably love being smothered by his larger body; Satoru selfishly wants to witness it all. Witness you come undone by just his digits.

You whimper, deliberately squeezing around his fingers to coax out a grunt from him. It’s true. He can read you so well because you really do need to let go. Be broken in by the man. There’s an unspoken rule between you both and that is waiting on his permission. He loves how obedient you get for him in the bed. So fucking cute and sweet. He drags it out a little longer, not quite done with you. He grinds his fingers into you, now pressing his palm against your sopping pussy and makes contact with your overly-sensitive clit.

“Ah, fuck! Please!” You plead breathlessly, a hand coming down to weakly hold onto his wrist but neither of you refuse to stop him. Satoru peels himself off of you, creating more distance between your body and you could see his eyes cloud darkly with desire for something. “Come for me.” Satoru orders, free hand pressing against your stomach, the fingers deep in your core now rapidly moving up and down. You pant heavily, feeling your high swiftly approaching as you try to lean up on your elbows, thighs squirming. Everything feels so damn hot and sensitive, it’s a miracle you’re not snapping your legs shut on his hand as you usually can’t help it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuuu—‘Toru!!” You cry out in ecstasy as the waves of pleasure now constantly crash down over your body, leaving you trembling hard, eyes rolling. Satoru is quick to slide his fingers out to watch the heavenly sight he’s been craving for; you squirting. Fuck, he thinks. He’s panting himself as your sweet juices spurt out in lots, gushing hard all over the bed and his work slacks. “Squirting all over me, filthy girl.” He groans, not daring to blink. ‘Do not dare miss a moment’, he thinks. Your hips snap upwards, chasing the addicting high as your wetness continues to spill out. Tears escape, sobbing out for the white-haired male, body feeling so hot and tingly.

Satoru coos at the adorable sight of you coming undone from his mouth and fingers. Large hands caressing along your sides, not daring to hold you down through your orgasm. He enjoys it far too much as you tremble and cry for him. “Good girl..” He praises, one hand coming to stroke your hair, peppering kisses against your bare shoulder. His office clothes are a mess now, your fluids soaked in patches against his black slacks. He didn’t care. He loves you too much. Satoru lays next to you, arm wrapping around your waist to pull you in and lips cautiously brushing away your pretty tears, mixing in with the taste of your sweetness that lingers on his tongue. You slur out a whine when you feel his tongue against your face, body still trembling gently as it naturally comes down from the high. You feel so sensitive. No one else has ever made you feel anything this good until Satoru.

Satoru…

You just always crave to be with Satoru. Body, soul, heart & mind. This is where you belong. You lean back into his loving embrace, smiling from the multiple kisses that he presses to the top of your head, trying to look up at him through droopy eyelids. You could feel his bulge pressing against your backside. “Well, I’m awake now.” You joke sheepishly, prompting the male to snort and roll his eyes. “Didn’t take much to wake you, just my face buried between your legs. Should have tried that from the start, knowing how needy you are for me.” Satoru teases sweetly, lips curled to form a cocky grin. You feel heat rise to your cheeks, rolling over to bury your face into his firm chest, slowly gliding your hand down towards his crotch. His large hand smothers yours, stopping your movement and you pout. He’s still firm on the ‘no cock’ rule this morning for refusing to wake up, much to his dismay. His length aches from no action. You press an apologetic kiss to his broad shoulder, voice quiet.

“Don’t you need to leave for work? You’re already late.”

“Nah, they can wait a little longer. I’m with my girl.”

You smile at that, always feeling spoiled by him. You giggle softly, ignoring how sticky your legs feel as you tangle them with. He gazes fondly at you, arm draped over your side. His sweet girl. All his. He presses his lips to your cheekbone. It’s moments like these, that you really adore. Silence can even be comforting with the white-haired male. Satoru is in love with you. The warmth in his eyes will never fade, even if he’s feeling particularly nasty to ruin you in bed. His crystal blue eyes refuse to leave you, fingers splaying across your naked back, nails dragging over the hot skin. He clears his throat, trying to bite back a smug expression.

“So, Y/N. Dick for dinner tonight?”

You burst out with laughter, nose scrunching slightly. “Come on.” You say, sitting up and taking hold of his hand, fingers interlocking. You could feel your dried up slick causing his hand to become sticky. “Washing hands and breakfast first. I want your famous pancakes.” You express with a loud kiss to his cheek. Satoru puffs out his chest proudly before helping you off the bed, unbothered by the still wet patches on his slacks. It’s a pleasant reminder, after all.

“Anything for my princess.”

#fae's writing #fae; writing. #fae; satoru. #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #satoru x you #jjk scenario #jjk writing #gojo scenario #gojo smut #satoru smut #gojo satoru #gojo #gojo writing #anime scenario #anime smut #minors dni #jjk x reader #jjk x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #female reader #reader insert #gojo x fem reader #gojo fanfic #satoru fanfic #jjk smut

[charliemwrites]

Nikto's Commandments part 8! (and the first half of the Jealousy Duet).

I'll be honest, I got stuck with this one! For some reason I just couldn't get a good flow going and had to try writing this a few different times. I think it shows in the beginning, but I get the rhythm back towards the end.

Also, apologies if there are more errors than usual. I kind of powered through it and am too afraid I'm going to hate it if I try to read it over.

Anyway, please enjoy as always <3 no CWs for this chapter

It’s your first mission since Nikto failed you.

(You may have forgiven him. He’s even accepted that you have, merciful as you are. But that doesn’t change the truth of what happened – that he failed you. That he left your side, and then almost didn’t return. You’ve forbade him from hanging himself with “almost,” but that doesn’t mean he can’t feel the noose around his throat.)

You’re long since healed and recovered under Nikto’s devoted watch. Nurturing may not come naturally to him, but he’d bend himself into any shape for your use. So, he made himself into your caregiver. Weeks of helping you sit up, walk, bathe… until you were back in the gym, right by his side, gritting your teeth through physical therapy.

A scar is all that’s left now, silvery and tender. The only sign that Nikto’s world nearly bled away on dirty concrete. A reminder of his failure, his disgrace. How could he possibly deserve a place at your side, when he couldn’t even protect you? When he thought, for even a moment, that vengeance mattered more than your life?

Still, he returns to your side. Because you told him to, all that time ago. Because he has so much to make up for after everything. And because you haven’t given him leave to be anywhere else.

(He prays that you don’t the only way he knows how. Through meals from his own hand while you grin, nipping at his fingers. Through tea shared from one cup. With fragrant products in your wet hair while you sigh. You haven’t told him he could be anywhere else, beckoning him into a bed bigger than the one on base, still tucking in close like one of you might fall off the edge.)

It’s not that he thinks you incapable now. He would never blaspheme that you are anything other than utterly competent. It’s just that every blink superimposes pools of blood over his vision, a strobe of you near death.

In his most selfish, private thoughts, he imagines taking you away from it all for good. Tucking you away warm and safe in the cathedral of your off-base apartment, where a god belongs, in their own house. He soothes himself on visions of devoting himself to you fully and wishes he were a prophet. But for all you’ve given him, visions of the future are not one of them.

You were eager to return to duty, nearly cornered O’Conor once you got final clearance from the doctors. Nearly shook him down for a new assignment – for the both of you. Even if he had reservations about sending you to duty so soon, an opportunity to keep Nikto and his temper away a little longer was too tempting. (The bruises Nikto left on his throat were long gone, but the memory clearly was not.)

And so here you both are, in the gym of an SAS base, sparring with Task Force 141.

“Oi, lass! Care for a match?”

“Bring it, MacTavish!”

Nikto stands back to observe as you and the sergeant square off.

The 141 has been cooperative, despite previous tensions with KorTac. You, Nikto, and Konig have managed to build a decent working rapport – though most of that work has been yours. Their captain seems to like your friendly personality and straightforward professionalism; their lieutenant has been cordial. But the two sergeants (especially the Scottish one) have taken a liking to you.

“Fuck!”

Nikto jerks as you get taken down on your bad side – no, it’s not your bad side anymore. You’ve fully recovered; he must remember that. Interrupting a sparring match would be unwelcome and unnecessary. Not just overprotective on his part, but disrespectful to you as well, as if he doesn’t think you can hold your own. Still, he balls his hands into fists as you struggle against the sergeant.

At least you’re laughing, breathless and curse laden as it is.

“She is okay, ja?” Konig asks.

Nikto grunts the affirmative, eyes sharp as he watches you knee MacTavish’s side. Good, he thinks proudly as you twist to get on top. You’ve been working tirelessly to improve your groundwork techniques, learning all the different ways you can use your smaller stature against bigger and stronger opponents.

“He is… friendly,” Konig continues.

Another grunt of agreement. Most people are with you. It’s a natural reaction in the face of divinity; to reach out to a smiling god. It worked on Nikto, anyone else would be helpless. It’s just the natural order of things like green grass, blue skies, or gravity.

There’s a pause that starts to prickle the back of Nikto’s mind. Disinterested as he may be in socializing, he understands how it works. A program that runs in his mind – body language, tone, inflection, facial expression. A complex algorithm that computes to emotion, conversation, feeling. It’s just not an equation that applies to him, or that he can apply to himself anymore.

And right now, Konig is trying to imply something. Nikto cuts his eyes to the side, meets Konig’s.

“Too friendly, don’t you think?” he adds.

Nikto snorts and turns back to the match – where you are just tapping out. MacTavish is unwinding his arm from your windpipe. You’re sat between his legs, back to his chest. A tough position to get out from in a fight. As you’re scooting away, the sergeant pats your hip, leans to say, “good match” in your ear. You shoot him a grin over your shoulder and then push to your feet, sauntering back to your own team.

“Whose turn is it?” you ask, wiping sweat from your brow.

You don’t see MacTavish’s eyes darting up and down your body, zeroing in on the sliver of skin revealed by your lifted shirt. But Nikto does.

“Mine,” Konig answers, stepping forward.

You smile at him, bump fists with him. “Kick his ass for me, yeah?”

“Ja.”

He shoots Nikto one last, pointed look before stepping onto the mat. But Nikto has no interest in watching his match. Not when you’re right in front of him, a sheepish look on your face.

“I can’t believe I lost like that,” you groan. “Guess I need more practice.”

“We will practice,” he promises.

You beam and knock the back of your hand gently against his.

Like an insidious weed, Konig’s observation takes root and sprouts. Sergeant MacTavish’s friendliness.

It’s almost like Nikto is hallucinating again – or perhaps that he has just stopped. A veil pulled away from his eyes. A creature camouflaged in the brush, his eyes skipping over the landscape until an irregularity in the pattern was pointed out to him. And now he cannot stop seeing it.

MacTavish saying hello to you first every morning, asking how you slept with a twinkle in his eye. He offers to accompany you to training sessions, often chooses you first for cross-team drills. In downtime, he’ll invite you to socialize (with the rest of the 141, sure) and always save you a seat or a spot. Usually right next to him.

And it is not that he doesn’t acknowledge Nikto or Konig. He is amicable with both, works well with either of them when paired up. But there is always a tilt to his mouth when he speaks to you, a lilt to his voice. A subtle incline to his shoulders that makes every interaction seem just that slightest bit intimate.

A week into the assignment, and he is touching you freely. First a hand tapping elbow or shoulder. Then an arm around the back of your neck. Platonic, commiserating. Within a day, that arm drops to your shoulders and he’s leaning the side of his head against yours, something a bit warmer than a hug.

One morning, he scoops you up in a hug, your toes nearly off the ground. You seem surprised, reciprocate with a pat to the back before you’re set down and offered a chair.

And the sparring… the sparring gets worse. Not just an exchange of blows and a chance to improve skills with a new partner anymore. It’s become a game of teasing you, joking with you. Tagging you with hits to coax you into going after him. Wrestling with you on the ground and dragging it out while he grunts and huffs against you.

And Nikto… Nikto burns.

This is not hell, he knows; but maybe this is some form of purgatory.

He has no place, no right to suffer. Knows that trying to claim you as his own would be like trying to cage the sun. It wouldn’t just be selfish; it would be heresy. You’ve already given him a miracle; you told him you love him. That is far beyond anything he could deserve, anything he could hope or dream or long for. To take after all that, to demand more of the time, attention, energy you pour into him like holy water…

And yet.

And yet he wants to claw his skin off when MacTavish winks at you. Wants to set the world on fire when that accent purrs “bonnie” or “hen” at you. An awful, deafening static scream fills the fractures of his mind when you smile at the sergeant, when you wish him a good morning or evening.

“How are you with a sniper, hen?” MacTavish asks one day.

You hum, glance over at Nikto. He’s been training you with his own rifle for months now – though it’s obviously been on pause since your injury. “Well, I’ve been working on it, but I definitely need some improvement.”

MacTavish crosses his arms, biceps bulging against the sleeves of his t-shirt. “I wouldn’t mind giving you a few pointers, if you want to come down to the range with me some time. Promise I’m a good teacher.”

You blink, hesitate. Then lightly, “Yeah, maybe!”

Nikto can’t hang himself on an “almost,” but he’s gutted on a “maybe.”

That night you come out of the bathroom frowning. There’s a furrow between your brows that you only get when you’re both frustrated and worried; if it stays, you’ll have a headache within the hour.

“Nikto?”

He glances up from the knives he’s polishing. You stop, eyes darting all over him, towel frozen in your hand.

“Hm?” he prompts.

You don’t answer. Instead, drop the towel carelessly on the floor and stride across the room. Towards him. He only just manages to shove his equipment out of the way by the time you reach him. And you don’t stop, climbing onto the hard desk chair he’s in, straddling his lap. Your fingers curl so tight in his chest straps that he can hear them creak.

He’s trapped as much by your gaze as your weight. Something swimming in the pools of your irises that he hasn’t seen in them before. Doesn’t know how to name or how to tame.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

He jerks back in surprise, but you’ve got a solid grip and there’s nowhere to go.

“Did I… do something?” you ask. “Or… or not do something?”

He stares. “What?” he asks, mouth gone suddenly dry.

Your eyes are still darting between his, like you’ll find answers playing peekaboo between them.

“You haven’t been right the past few days. Maybe even a week,” you explain. “I’ve been giving you space to tell me, but you won’t. And I’m sorry, I’m not trying to pressure you, but please just talk to me.”

Now his brows furrow. “I haven’t been…?”

You sit back a bit, assured that you have his attention – as if that isn’t guaranteed.

“You’re not eating the same. Didn’t even take the green beans I put aside for you,” you say. “You’re not sharing my tea or letting me wrap your hands. You keep leaving for a smoke in the middle of the night. Hell, you’re wearing your mask in our room.”

It dawns on him like apocalypse. That he has been worrying you, affecting you.

“And you’re not… you’re not talking to me.” Your white-knuckled grip eases a bit as you run out of steam, sadness tinging your expression. “I know we don’t talk the normal way but… I haven’t been able to read you. You won’t look me in the eye or press our legs together. You’re even pulling away in your sleep.”

His heart is trying to claw out of his ribcage, wants to crawl into the palm you press to his chest.

“So… if I’m doing something or not doing something… you can tell me. I promise I won’t be upset. I just miss you.”

He crumbles.

Weeks under torture, but he breaks at four words.

You gasp as he rips the gear off his face. Try to help, but he just pushes your hands away. Knows he’s aggravated the old wounds, but a balm is at hand, pressing his face into the crook of your neck.

“моя любовь,” he whispers fervently. “моя надежда. моя богиня.”

You curl around him instantly, arms around his shoulders, fingers fluffing through the fuzz of hair at the back of his skull. Gentle and kind and everything that sinners and saints would fall on their swords for. And yet all you ask of him is to speak, to confess.

“I fear,” he rasps into your skin.

“Fear what?” you ask.

He is your protector, your disciple. Yours to command, to damn, to sacrifice if you so wished – and he would gladly spill his corroded innards at your feet, careful not to bloody your shoes. And he fears that you won’t ask him to.

“You are not mine, but I fear losing you,” he admits. You suck in a breath, arms tightening around him. “If not to MacTavish, then to the world. I will be left here without you again.”

He squeezes his eyes shut as the scars sear all over again, crushes his crooked nose against your collarbone.

“I am yours,” he whispers, lungs burning, “and I cannot be that if you are gone.”

You shift, pressing closer, tighter. Lay your cheek on his head and squeeze him so tightly he wonders if you’re not inviting him inside your ribcage.

“I thought you understood,” you whisper, and even that cracks with emotion. “I’m sorry, I thought I made it clear. I thought you knew…”

You urge him back. He wants to resist. Wants to stay right there in the hollow of your neck, breathing in the soap you two share, basking in your warmth. But you are bidding him to do something, and he is a weak man to your command.

Your eyes are shiny, but there’s a smile on your face when you look at him.

“You’re mine,” you assure him, “you will always be mine. I will never turn you away.”

His eyes flutter with relief. Always. He has no business questioning the truth of that. You’ve said it; it is so.

“I’m yours too, Nikto.”

His eyes snap open again, but you hold him still, hold him right there.

“Our love isn’t a cross for you to bear,” you murmur. “I belong to you the same way – the exact same way – that you are mine.”

“I don’t—”

“You remember what I told you in that car all those months ago?”

Don’t deserve it? That’s not your choice. Don’t understand? You don’t have to. I just do. It wasn’t a choice I made.

Your word is genesis. It is revelation. It is creed and commandment, redemption and atonement.

You’ve said it; it is so.

“Here.”

You snatch a pad of black ink from one of the desk drawers, grab at one of his useless, hovering hands.

“What are you—”

You smear his bare fingertips across the damp pad. Then press them to your forearm. He jerks his hand back, but it’s too late. His smudged fingerprints stain your skin in inky little pools. When he looks up at you, you’re grinning. Wide and beautiful and so damn proud of yourself.

“C’mon,” you coo. “Do it again.”

He hesitates. But his eyes are drawn back to his fingerprints on your skin. His mind echoes with your declaration.

You are his. You are his.

To deny you this, to deny your belonging, would be beyond blasphemy. Beyond sin.

You have said it; it is so. You. Are. His.

You beam as he takes the inkpad and gets his fingers wet again. Begins leaving marks all over you. Along your arms, over your collarbone. Lean back to get palm prints on your thighs. Sits you on the desk to smear lines up your calves. You even tug your shirt up, giggling all the while, so that he can mark up your stomach.

He pauses at the gunshot. Places his blackened thumb over the entry scar. Pulls it away to see the whorls of his fingerprint covering it.

You soften, kind hands cupping his jaw and guiding him up. Up and up… until your plush lips are slotted against his. His own stained hands land on your hips – likely ruining your little sleep shorts – and pull you as close as he can get you. Infusing himself with the taste of you, of your love, of your belonging.

“Yours,” you murmur against his mangled mouth.

“Yours,” he repeats.

The next day, you walk into the mess hall with Nikto’s fingers hooked into your belt loops. There’s a single black smudge on your jaw.

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #nikto x reader #cod nikto #nikto's commandments

[mrswint3rs]

I need Wesker with baby fever >///<

𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐱 🝮 (part 2 here!)

pairings- Husband! Wesker x Fem! Reader

a/n- Ik this is super short but i wanted to leave an opening for a possible part 2 so…

𝐂𝐰- mostly fluff and stuff, smut towards the end(more like hcs), unprotected sex obv, breeding kink ❦

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Wesker wasn’t exactly fond of the idea of having children. You’ve discussed it many times throughout the course of your marriage, but he always thought of it as an impossible lifestyle.

The man was a workaholic, to put it lightly. He hardly had time for you or even himself. How would he care for a child as well? The world he inhabits, as he sees it, isn’t fit for a child. Nor was he fit to raise one.

His upbringing —if you could even call it that— wasn’t one that taught affection or the caring of others. How was he supposed to love another when he hardly understood his love for you? There was no way he could achieve the role of a loving father.

Wake up, go to work, come home to you. That was the loop routine he stuck to for the past few years.

But lately, things have shifted.

He’s actually started to take time off of work just to spend the day with you. He finds himself wanting to be near you at all times. Especially since you’ve mentioned feeling lonely while he’s away.

Wesker’s always been a bit aloof and distant even in the way he shows his love for you, but recently he seems to have the need to protect you.

He’s begun worrying that he's been pushing you away for far too long, that you may be feeling neglected and overlooked in this relationship. He's even started to overthink about you finding someone else who can provide the love and support that he has failed to do for so long.

Despite your husband’s many flaws and his tendency to hide his true feelings behind his colder facade, you’ve always been the one constant in his life. You’ve managed to love him through all of his ups and downs, no matter how hard he tried to push you away or how selfish he was being.

He’s finally come to realize just how much your love means to him and how much he’s taken you for granted over the years. He now finally understands that he can’t go through life without you by his side.

He has no idea what made him suddenly start feeling this way, but he can’t deny that the love he feels for you has suddenly become much deeper and more intense than ever before.

What used to be a feeling akin to contentedness has now been replaced with a genuine desire for more. He's started to view you in a new, more nurturing light, one that's making him want to protect and provide for you more than ever.

He finds himself thinking often about what it would feel like to have a tiny piece of both of you running around the house.

He catches himself staring at you, wondering how beautiful you’d look with a tiny bump in your stomach. The thought fills him with joy and a sense of security that he’s never felt before.

At first, it was just a few small comments here and there about how he wouldn’t mind having a little him. Now, its become this obsession that drives him mad.

He’s been researching online about baby names, taking his time in the store to consider the prices of possible toys, cribs, and the adorable miniature clothes.

The sudden desire for a child is growing inside of him like some dark force he cannot understand or explain.

Maybe it’s something that comes with aging. All he knows for sure is it's eating inside of him, gnawing on his soul.

The thought of failure is a constant concern, still he knows he needs to get it out into the open. But how? A million ways to address the topic flash through his mind as he struggles with how to tell you that he wants to have a family with you when you both previously agreed you could do without.

When his consistent hints go over your head, he starts to get a little more direct.

“You should stop taking your birth control.” he says out of nowhere as you lay in bed about to sleep. You turn to face him, reading his face of urgency.

“Let’s have a baby…I mean, if you’re alright with it.” he quickly corrects himself, trying to be more open with the subject. “I’ve been looking into it. I think we could make it work.” He looks at you almost anxiously, waiting for your reaction.

When he notices the smile that plays at your lips, he feels a weight come off of him. “Let’s have a baby.” you agree.

He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, genuinely happy at your approval for the idea. He had no reason to be nervous about asking you. You always just understood him, like you were on the same wavelength.

He pulls you close, letting you rest your head against his chest and you listen to the rapid acceleration of his heart.

Your breathing syncs with his, lulling you to sleep in his arms.

Once he’s sure you’re asleep, he gets more comfortable. “I love you,” he whispers softly, making sure not to disturb you before closing his eyes himself.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Going forward, you both decided on letting your body go back to its natural state after you stopped taking the pill. Wesker wanted everything to happen perfectly. So you started keeping track of when you were ovulating as well.

And once you were, he couldn’t keep his hands off of you.

Every chance you had, you’d be fucking like rabbits. Wherever, whatever time of day. He wasn’t going to risk any missed opportunities. And he wasn’t going to give up until you were swollen, carrying his child.

He pumps every last bit of his seed into you every time you make love. If any spills, he’ll stuff in back in, whether it be with his cock itself or a toy. Not a single drop could go to waste.

He’d even make you walk around all day with it still inside you. Didn’t matter where you were or how uncomfortable it might be.

He’d breed you full every night, always trying the recommended positions he read about online. His favorite being the one with you flat on your stomach, letting him take you from behind.

He loves being on top in general, but with you in that arrangement, he can reach further in and pour into your depths.

While he enjoyed himself doing so, he always made sure to take care of your needs as well.

He uses his fingers to trap his cum inside. Meanwhile his tongue laps and sucks at your clit. He glides his tongue round and round until you’re pulsing around his fingers, legs shaking and voice whining helplessly from the intensity of your climax.

When he’s finished with you, he’ll make you suck his fingers clean, crooning you back to a relaxed state.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You’re both ecstatic when your period is officially late after weeks of attempts.

You’ve never seen the man look so giddy. He stands outside of the bathroom door anxiously awaiting results as you go to take a pregnancy test.

Even if they weren’t always accurate, the hope was still there. He would take you to the doctor to be sure later on either way.

You both stare at it, waiting for the strip to change. Wesker hardly even blinks as he waits. He never thought he’d be here, wishing for a kid. But he’s never wanted anything more in his life.

He would try again and again, no matter the turnout.

mlist

#albert wesker x you #albert wesker x reader #albert wesker #wesker x reader #albert wesker smut #fanfiction #resident evil #fem reader #re wesker #wesker thirst #anon ask #resident evil 4 #resident evil 1 #resident evil 5 #resident evil x reader #wesker x you

[baestruly]

i'll be there

( ⋫ 𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖔𝖘𝖘𝖎 )  spencer reid x reader

⤷ IN WHICH, you're stressed with work, but spencer is there to help you

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 - hurt x comfort, fluff

The caress of sweet, warm sunlight might have been a balm on your skin, had it not been for the relentless pressure trapped within your head ━━ a tumultuous symphony of pounding echoes and silent screams.

The evening sun lashed out like a fiery whip, scorching your vision as you massaged wearied eyes, only to stir the relentless ache burrowing deeper within your head.

It wasn’t just the sunlight causing you to be in distress, it was the amount of paperwork you still had to get done. Even though you’ve been trying to multitask all week, you had to do it on the plane while also managing to find leads or behaviours on the criminals while also having to run home to your apartment because you received a text from your dog sitter ━━ who you pay probably too much, to look after your new dog saying he had ripped the whole place apart. Your needs, blankets, almost all of your pillows and of course, the couch!

Your therapist had recommended you get a job because of the stress you have been under for your new job. Yeah, new. Maybe that’s why you seemed like the odd one out because everyone was so much more experienced than you were. Of course, they had to start somewhere, but you felt like a rookie beside them, especially the smartest one, Spencer Reid, only having been on the force for around a month. 

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, the voices were getting to be too much. 

You’re a failure, you’ll never be as good as them! Get your head straight, you’re not thinking like a profiler, there's so much going on! It goes on and on and on━━

“Y/N?” 

Someone's voice snaps you from your thoughts, all of them shattering like glass as they scrape your skull. It bled, just like the blood on the floor of that poor girl━━

“Y/N? Hey━━hey, hey, hey, what’s the matter?” His voice was tinged with a palpable mixture of concern and fear, the words tumbling from him like a cascade of worry. He was closer now, having his shaky but reassuring hand on your arm. You weren’t able to feel the warmth because of the thick knitted sweater you wore for the colder months of November.

His eyes spiralled, reading every inch of expression on your face. By now, he could’ve figured it out and profiled you on his own━━hell, it wouldn’t even take a profiler to tell how stressed out you were, goddammit. But, he waited patiently, letting you know he was here despite his efforts to stay calm to keep you calm.

It wasn’t working.

 Spencer has always been the hesitant and shy type. Not when it came to his interests━━which were mostly about anything, really━━or profiling, but when it came to feelings, emotion or conversations, the poor guy was clueless.

Deep down you knew he had a good heart. You don’t think you’ve admired someone this much before, especially a friend.

You tried to stare into his eyes, but the voices in your head started again. This time, it wasn’t about the dog or your cold case, or even the bloody walls of the family home you’d visited on Wednesday.

You suddenly realized how terrified you were of dumping this on Spencer. The stress of this moment was too much, he was waiting for an answer and you couldn’t just stand there! Like that statue━━no, you couldn’t do that, not now.

“I━━I’m fine, Spencer.” You sprung from your seat, quickly pacing and turning your back to him as you picked up a few files from where you had been frantically working at your desk, giving yourself something to focus on other than the voices in your head and walls that were starting to crumble behind your eyes.

Like the crumpling statue on the ground.

You clenched your teeth. You needed to focus to get your shit done and get home in time to be able to sleep and eat! You haven't eaten anything all day?! Holy shit━━

Spencer stood in confusion and worry. His mind started scrambling thinking of ways to go about the situation. You’d think when it came to profiling he’d know exactly what to do or say that may help you or set you off, but when it came to you, the closest friend he’s ever made in less than a month, he was clueless, he didn’t want to make things worse.

Profiling was different, he didn’t know those people. 

He knew you.

And he guesses that his greatest fear at that moment was seeing you in distress, and not knowing what to do that would make it better. 

The girl's body lay limp in the bedroom. The throat detached like the grey, morbid statue, symbolizing nothing like the bloody corpse of who was once a bright happy girl, the soul ripped away from her.

You continued to pace around the room, grabbing your hair and clearing your throat. 

“Is there━━um, anything you want me to do? I’ll do it, Y/N just are—are you okay? Talk to me.”

You stopped, finally facing him, and that’s when Spencer could finally see your face.

But your eyes were red, like you had been crying before and bags were deeply engraved under your eyes as your hair became messier each time you ran your shaky hand through it. 

His heart broke a little. 

“I j━━just, okay━━I have a dog, the sitters have been calling me all week!” You shouted in frustration. Spencer blinked, startled, but he listened, brows furrowing. “Now she’s not there━━and I can’t even use my bed let alone the━━the couch and━━this case has gone cold, now we have another one and there’s just so many dead ends━━“ You stopped.

Silence.

“I just need everything to stop.” That’s it, the walls be damned because you couldn’t fucking hold it anymore no matter how hard you fought. And you think it’s safe to say you’ve fought hard enough this week. “I need to just shut my mind off.”

Your voice cracked as your breaths heaved in and out of your chest, somewhat relieved to get it all out. Now that your thoughts become your words, it only makes them more real.

You couldn’t breathe at all, every inhale you took as you doubled over in panic and distress didn’t fill your lungs, which only made your eyes widen with fear as your heart thundered in your ears. 

“Crap━━(Y/N), breathe with me alright? Okay, just one breath in━━" Spencer ran to your side, leading you to the sofa as he kneeled in front of you so his face was in your view. “Breathe out, nice and slow, you got it.” 

Your breath shook viscously with each inhale you took, but Spencer didn’t mind, nor did he seem to care about how crazy you thought you looked right now. Instead, he nodded at you with encouraging eyes when you opened yours, trying to find balance in his presence while he slowly and gently rubbed his thumb on the side of your cold hands.

“I’m good, I’m good.” You choke out with one last exhale now that your breathing seems to go back to normal. You were still out of breath as the lump in your throat remained.

“Hey, I know, you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.” He says softly but reassuringly, eyes glistening with concern and admiration for your efforts. Your bold personality always interested him, that’s why he’d been so shocked to see you in a state like this. Although you were bold, you seemed to close yourself off when it came to emotions. “Now, you’re fine with this today, alright?”

“No, I n━━“

He shushed you gently. “I know, Emily’s got it for you for the rest of the night. You need rest.”

You weren’t sure what was happening, but you followed Spencer to his car before feeling a sense of relief to be away from the office for a moment as the cold air from outside turned warmer with every second you sat in the seat with him. It was oddly comforting, and you breathed deeply, finding it easier to control it now. 

But of course, it all hit you.

“God━━Spence, I am so so sorry, shit━━"

“No! No, it’s okay, believe me when I say this, you have nothing to be sorry for.” He blinked a few times before scrunching his nose. “90 percent of people struggling do not speak up because, well, they’re scared of judgement, the other half of it being embarrassment when really, we have nothing to be embarrassed of. Everyone feels, you know. It’s basically impossible for all of us bring in our positions in this job to not be affected by the tragedies we see.”

“Wow, Spencer Reid, as a genius profiler I would’ve expected you to know not everyone feels.” She let out a breathy laugh, the skin under your eyes feeling dry from your tears. 

Spencer felt better that you were trying to lighten the mood. He smiled softly looking down at his hands as he nodded. “You know what I mean!” 

“Yes, Reid, I do.” You smiled back. “So, where are we going?”

“When you’re stressed out it’s better to do things that keep your mind away from it.” He starts. You knew that too. “Doing something peaceful is another effective way.”

“Sounds perfect.” You sighed a sigh of relief, leaning your head back slightly so it touched the seat. You felt reassured knowing Reid was here with you and was willing to help. Maybe all you needed was an extra hand, instead of putting more problems on yourself.

“Reid?” You say, hesitantly turning to look at him. You could feel the admiration luring out of them. “Thank you.”

He smiled, eyes thoughtful. “Of course. I want to help you.”

Although you remained seated, you encircled him in an awkward yet secure embrace, needing to convey just how grateful you were for his presence in that moment and in your life.

“Your heart━━it’s beating really fast.” You say softly once you pull away from his warm embrace. “You sufre you’re not stressed about anything right now?” 

“Well━━there, uh, maybe one thing.” He stuttered, as his nervous but warm hands cupped your face, his thumb glinting across your skin much like the time back at the BAU when he held your hand during your panic attack. 

“Wouldn’t take a profiler to figure it out.” You whispered, your lips softly pressing against his, delicate and soft. He kissed you as if you were fragile and his hand was the only thing keeping you together as his lips moved against yours. His hand moved into your hair, caressing your head hoping his kisses could make all your pain go away.

You could sense his smile against yours, lips stretching into a thin line of joy, as your laughter tangled messily with his. Admiration was pumping through your veins, but nothing compared to the love pumping in your rapidly beating heart, all your stress being replaced with warmth and admiration.

If Spencer became the air that filled your lungs, the very breath of your existence, you'd no longer need to learn how to breathe.

a/n: that was my first time writing for spencer so pls be nice!!

i haven't wrote in a while but i'm happy to be back! please request anything for spencer in my request box

spencer reid masterlist           masterlist

also request anything! 

#spencer reid one shot #spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #reid #oneshot #imagine #fanfic #spencer reid fluff #fics

[courtingchaos]

It’s Just a Question

A/N: Back on my bullshit. I’ve had some really hard times with my normal writing while also finding myself in some shitty circumstances. So this is how this came about. Just a lot of feelings. Technically plus sized reader but you can do whatever you want.

18+ NSFW No Minors

“Am I pretty?”

“What?” Eddie sprays toothpaste on the mirror, he’s so quick to ask.

“Am I pretty?” You scrunch your face up over and over, drawing your eyebrows down and crinkling your eyes. Purse your lips and frown deep and finally look over at him staring at you, toothbrush hanging from his mouth and arms braced on the countertop.

“Are you pretty?” He reiterates with a deep sigh. “Of course you are, you’re gorgeous. Especially right now when your hair matches mine and we look like two electrocuted cotton balls.” He’s not flippant but he’s definitely brushing you off.

You aren’t done though. “I’m serious, and I’m not asking if you think I’m pretty. Am I pretty like…Anne Hathaway.” You pull down on your cheek and watch it bounce back, albeit slower than it did when you were 20.

“Well…you don’t even look-no.” He stops quickly and spits in the sink and rinses his toothbrush, viciously shaking his head the whole time. “This is a trap and I refuse.” He says as he leaves you in the bathroom.

“Eddie it’s not a trap it’s an honest question!”

“This is like the worm thing and I’m not doing that again!” He yells over his shoulder before closing himself in the bedroom to get dressed for work. You sigh and turn to look at your tired reflection. Your perpetual eyebags answer your question for you, and your dusting of sun damage yells it louder from the mirror.

Not pretty, subliminally average.

Standing in line at the grocery store, Eddie slumped over the handle and picking at stray grapes, you ask again only this time with a visual aid.

“Okay, I mean like this.” You shove a copy of Rolling Stone under his nose, a new pop star gracing their cover in something sheer and tight. “I meant pretty like this.” You say quietly next to him. He chews on another free grape slowly, staring at the cover and tilting his head. He doesn’t move, just slides his eyes way over to give you the look.

“You’re prettier than her.”

“What about Juno Temple?” You quip back.

“She’s shorter than you. And British, doesn’t count.” He quips right back. You huff and shove the magazine back in its slot.

“You’re not understanding me.”

“No, I am. You’re just not listening to me.” He pushes the cart up a spot and continues his easy lean. “You’re pretty like…that.” He searches the newsstand by the register and points at a baking magazine, perfectly circled apple tart dusted with sugared cinnamon and you bark a loud laugh.

“A tart Edward?”

“Don’t twist my words. I said you’re pretty like that.” He smiles, pops another grape in his mouth and starts tossing things on the conveyer belt.

Pretty like a baked good.

He’s elbow deep in the shelf of succulents, looking for something called a ‘Black Rose’.

“I know it’s in here, there’s four dead ones up top.” He’s pushing little green teardrops to the side to find his prize, a loud ‘Ha!’ when he whips his hand out, holding the little plant by its little container.

“It’s so tiny.”

“Yeah and in like six months it might not be.” He gives you a cheesy smile and sets in the cart with your other potential house plant failures. Somehow he’s managed to keep a giant flat pot of succulents alive for almost a year and every time you go to the plant store, he adds another.

“Okay, what’s its name.”

You hum at him, tapping your finger along the cart when you get distracted. A willow of a woman walks in, hair shiny like water and flowing over her thin, petite shoulders. She looks like she’s on a mission, perfectly manicured hand pointing her in the right direction when she heads for a batch of bright zinnias. Her smile painted a bright coral like the plant she picks up and places in her cart, three more following and off she billows to the next aisle full of ivy. Eddie saw it the moment you stopped listening to him listing off names. The swivel of your head and then the tapping of your finger ceasing, knuckles going white around the cart handle. He watches you watch her and he knows the question is coming before you turn back around with that frown hewn into your forehead.

“Like this.” He holds up the small succulent, barely formed petals burnished a deep purple in the afternoon sun.

“What.”

“Pretty like this.”

“You don’t even-“ You scoff and cut yourself off, heavy eye roll directed at no one while you turn away and sulk by the snake plants.

He doesn’t tell you, but he names it after you.

The Big One happens during the summer. Chrissy is engaged, and her new belle and her decide to have a joint bachelorette party, everyone invited. You know Eddie’s people, all these random characters drawn together through something you don’t quite understand. You meet Chrissy fiancé and she’s just as bubbly and sweet as Chrissy herself. Eddie gives them your gift and drops a kiss on Chrissy’s cheek and it barely bothers you.

They’d dated just out of high school. 15 years ago and before Chrissy had realized why men just never hit the spot. She floats around her party and you hang around behind Eddie while he walks the two of you around in conversation. At some point you’d gone past your standard three (3) drinks and the mango seltzers are starting to make you a little resentful.

Thankfully you catch it, excuse yourself to the bathroom and give yourself a stern stare in the mirror.

It’s not your party.

They’re just friends.

It’s not about you.

…Is it ever?

There’s a reason you stop at 3 lately, that rolling black pit of self loathing feeds on bubbly things and it’s feeding on a blonde tonight.

So when you come back you sit at a table by yourself. You tuck your hands under your thighs and admonish yourself for how wide they are. There’s a tug of war happening between your self pity and your self depreciation, a tear balancing on your lashes while you roll the wet eyes under them. Eddie finds you bent over your phone and all you can think about is how wide your shoulders must have looked from that far away.

“Hey, where’d you go?”

“I had to uh, go to the bathroom.” Your pause gives you away, just south of tipsy, and Eddie smiles, his big hand sliding under your chin to hold it between his fingers. A move that usually has you melting into his palm, but tonight?

You tug your head away and he frowns. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t think I need to be here anymore.”

“You feeling okay?”

“I’m just fine. I’m gonna get an Uber home, you stay.” You stand up and hate the feel of your clothes on you. Your hair feels too heavy and the makeup you spent an hour on is suddenly sticky and tacky and wasted on you.

“No, we’ll leave together.” Eddie has concern all over his face. He tries to give you a hand when you obviously stumble and you slap it away.

The fight only starts when you start crying, unable to control your emotions anymore. You spend the whole ride home feeling sorry for yourself, saying the most inane shit Eddie’s ever heard.

“You can’t ask me to compare you to Chrissy. That’s not fair!” He laughs humorlessly when you ask him who’s prettier. “One, it was 15 years ago! Two, I’m not doing this anymore!” He yells and it shuts you up. He can hear the click of your jaw with how quick you stop yammering on drunkenly about your thighs.

“If you want to play that game, let’s look at your past relationships, huh?”

“What relationships Eddie?!” You scream back at him. There’s a part of his being that can feel the backslide into the terrible habit of yelling to get his point across. Picked up from his father and quelled at every turn, but today you drag it out of him.

“Oh don’t start with that shit again.”

“You mean all the guys that fucked me in the dark?! Or do you mean the ones that pretended not to know me in public?”

He gets to your apartment in record time, slamming the car in park and scrambling to hold your seatbelt buckled before you can run out.

“Let me out.” Your face is red from crying and from hatred and from loathing.

“No.” He says quieter but with finality. You stare at him, waiting for him to move his hand but he won’t, keeps his fingers locked around yours.

“You’re drunk, and you’ve been in a bad mood lately.” He knows he knows he knows that was the wrong thing to say. It spilled out of his mouth before he could throw the net out for those errant words and you give him the meanest smile he’s ever seen on your face.

“A bad mood?” You nod your head like you’re agreeing but he’s bracing for impact. “A bad mood. Tell you what, when I have a fucking roster of groupies and easy boys behind me, then we can talk about my bad mood.”

“You’re mad because of people I’ve slept with?”

“Look at me Eddie!” You scream and it breaks on his name, the sob you’d been swallowing for an hour finally surfacing. “I don’t fucking look like Chrissy and I sure as fuck don’t look like Steve! You still have that picture of that stand in drummer on your profile you fucked around with! Every single one of them is-fuck! Stunning!” You finally wrench the seatbelt out of his hand and free yourself. “I look like a fucking joke when you take me places. You think I don’t see people staring?” Another mirthless laugh before you kick the door open and wobble your way out. “Make someone else laugh, Eddie.”

He watches you stomp off inside and slap the button for the elevator. There’s enough time he could get out and follow you in and upstairs and finish the yelling match and maybe get you to see straight.

But he doesn’t. His grip tightens on the steering wheel so much it creaks. He feels on the verge of tears and when you disappear behind the closing doors he punches his door and drives home too fast.

The doorbell rings and Eddie answers it without thinking. You look small in your hoodie, your hair damp and braided over your shoulder. He’s so used to you standing tall with him, a sturdy pillar he can lean on instead of always having to be the support. To see your shoulders pulled in tight makes his chest ache.

“I’m sorry I haven’t answered your texts.” You say quietly.

“I shouldn’t have yelled like that.”

“God don’t-“ you wipe at your eyes and stare at your feet. “Don’t apologize to me. I shouldn’t have gone off the fucking handle like that.”

“Maybe, but you’re obviously feeling some kind of way that you aren’t telling me about.”

“It’s the normal shit, Eddie. I just let it get to me.”

He holds the door open wider and nods his head over to the couch. “You wanna tell me about it?”

You don’t, not really. It’s going to go the way it always does with you explaining a life long loathing and the few times you see daylight out of the pit it holds you in.

“I shouldn’t have started that pretty shit.” You shake your head and clutch the pillow tighter around your middle. Eddie sits on the other side of the couch, long legs tucked up under his chin and you wish you could fold in on yourself like that. There must be a twist to your mouth or a shift of your body because Eddie sighs deeply.

“You know you don’t have to ask me that.”

“I know, but that’s not what I was asking anyways.”

“What does it matter?”

You shoot him a puzzled look. “I mean, I just want-I’d like to know if-“ you start and stop and Eddie just waits until you stop floundering.

“If I think you’re pretty, what does the rest matter?”

“It just does.” Your bottom lip wobbles and you hide it behind your fist. Eddie catches it, of course, and crawls over to you, grabbing your quivering chin and making you look up.

“I can’t undo a lifetime of self loathing in one afternoon, but I can definitely help cut through that shit one compliment at a time.” He gives you a gentle kiss and feels the smattering of tears hit your face, his thumb coming up to wipe them away. He cradles your face till you bury it in his neck and quietly cry for a while.

You loose count of how many sorry’s you give him and he finally tells you enough with a smile. He gives you his phone and tells you to order dinner and he disappears for a few minutes in his room.

Later, after food and more talking and a quiet nap spent curled up against Eddie’s side he asks if he can take you to bed.

“Sure grampa.” He smiles at your humor, an improvement to the tears earlier. He gets you out of your Sad Clothes and you quickly get under the blankets. He wants to say something but he knows to start small.

Starts with the lights off and sheds his clothes before crawling under the blankets from the foot of the bed. It makes you laugh and wind your legs around him, a win in his book. He kisses up your legs leaving a wet trail from your ankles to your thighs before you feel your face growing hot the closer he gets to your center. When you think he might pull your underwear off he doesn’t, instead kissing up your soft stomach to your breast and it isn’t until his curls spill out from under the blanket that you can hear him murmuring against your skin. Chanting “beautiful beautiful beautiful” and laying down “I love you’s”. His nose runs along under your chin while he kisses up to your ear “so pretty so perfect”. He runs his hands up into your hair and hold you in place while he hovers, warm brown eyes staring lovingly into yours.

“You have no idea how lucky I am.”

“Eddie…”

“No, don’t start.” He kisses you long and slow and it makes you tear up in a good way. He notices them hanging in the corners of your eyes and kisses those away while you laugh at him, watery and light and he knows he’s winning. It isn’t long before he’s got you trapped under him, legs tugged up around his hips so he can fuck into you slow and deep, his fingers still carding through your hair and keeping your eyes on him.

“So good for me.”

“Keep your eyes on me baby.”

“Just me and you.”

You couldn’t close your eyes if you wanted to, anchored to his stare and his touch and the way he whispers at you such sweet things. He kisses you deep when he feels you tightening around him. Thighs pulled tight around his hips, hands grasping for his shoulders to hold him tight to you while you spasm and gasp around him. He follows soon after, dropping his head down to nuzzle into your neck.

“Sweet girl.”

“Always so good to me.”

“Love you so much.”

Eddie lets you unwind from him before he lays on his back beside you.

“Can I show you something?” He pulls you in next to him so you have to drape over his chest, tattoos swelling under his deep breath. He holds his phone over your heads and finds the photo album he was looking for. You catch a glimpse of one of you and start to turn your head into his chest before he tuts at you.

“What did we just talk about?”

Instead you give him the benefit of doubt and let him scroll through. He talks about all the photos he has of you and why he kept them. Why he took them or got them from Robin or Nancy or one of the kids on one of the many outings. He’s got pictures of sunsets and really good food and flowers and his succulent pot. There’s a skyline in the rain from a green room he was in that he tells you reminds him so much of you. Says something about composition and the rain and how it comforts him like you do and if you weren’t wrung out you’d start crying again. He scrolls for a half hour explaining every photo and why they’re all you or remind him of you and how he finds you in the things he finds beautiful.

“So yes, I do.” He grabs your chin and you melt into his touch as he pulls you in for a soft kiss. “I think you’re pretty and beautiful and stunning and I will remind you every day.” Another peck before he cradles your head against his chest.

One day, maybe, you won’t have to remind yourself that it doesn’t matter. That Eddie thinks you’re pretty and that’s all you need, but today you know it for sure and feel it for sure and it’s enough.

(Sacrifice for the read more)

#Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson Comfort #My Work #My Fic #Eddie Munson smut

[dr3c0mix]

Please more poly vampires please😭🙏! I can hardly ever find x male/masc reader stuff especially about monsters😭. What happens when they take us back to their home. What's gonna happen to us? What will the townsfolk react?

Poly!Vampires x Reader Pt. 2

CW: kidnapping, silas is a freak for a brief moment

waaaaa !! so sorry this took so long !! thank you all for being so patient with me ! >w< <3

update: i mixed up garrick and silas' names im sorry im sorry its fixed now guys im so-

🌙 Its been a week since the townspeople found your house empty, your bedroom looking like something out of a mystery novel.

🌙 The bed was stained with blood and claw marks were dug deep into your bedframe with the moonlight illuminating your room through your broken window.

🌙 It looked as if you've been taken by a creature of the night, but weirdly enough, your luggage was nowhere to be found. Your closet and drawers had clothes missing and the painting you had just finished was gone.

🌙 Who could have done this?

🌙 "Garrick, it's your turn to drive!"

🌙 "Already?! Just one more minute Viktor~?"

🌙 You're being held hostage, no, hostage wasn't the right word..kidnapped? Enslaved maybe? who knows..All you know was that these..creatures..will never let you out of their sight.

🌙 You remember that night when you bore witness to their inhuman ways, they were at the foot of your bed when you took out the crucifix under your pillow and held it to Viktor, his eyes turning all red and he hissed at the holy figure.

🌙 "Ohoho! Our little mortal's smart!" Garrick grins, showing off his sharp fangs.

🌙 Silas tries to grab you but you dodge, but his long claws managed to cut your cheek, you couldn't say the same for your bedframe..

🌙 Viktor gets a hold of you and chuckles darkly at your cut, the red liquid bleeding out of it made his mouth water.

🌙 "My my~ What a fierce little minx you are my darling~" he coos with a raspy cold breath as he licks your wound. The feeling made your stomach churn and your spine shiver.

🌙 Garrick was busy making a mess of your room and stuffing your clothes in bags. Also stuffing a pair of your underwear in his shirt for himself.. "Come on you idiots! It's almost dawn!" He whisper-yells as he fiddles with the window's lock.

🌙 Silas rolls his eyes and kicks the window, breaking it and jumping through, with Garrick holding his hand.

🌙 You were confused beyond compare. Were they really gonna kidnap you?! What's gonna happen to you?! Should you scream for help?!

🌙 "I'm sorry for this Darling.." Viktor says softly before knocking you out.

🌙 Now back to the present, the 3 rode around in a caravan, a charming little wagon that doubled as a moving home of sorts. One went in front and drove while the other two looked after you or did other things.

🌙 Every escape attempt you had would end up in failure, their superhuman senses were no match for you.

🌙 "Garrick you said that 10 minutes ago!" Viktor growls at the younger vampire.

🌙 Garrick groans "Fiiiiiine!" He says before giving you one last hug and kiss and going out with a coat to shield him from the sun.

🌙 You had about 10 seconds to yourself before Viktor sits down next to you and pulls you onto his lap.

🌙 "Oh how I missed your warmth little mortal~" He purrs, kissing your neck which made you tense up in fear of his fangs. He feels your heart beat faster and smirks. "Am I making you nervous~?" He teases.

🌙 Silas comes over and smacks the dark-haired man on the head "Enough Viktor! Don't you think our precious little darling is frightened already?" he scolds before smiling down at you warmly. Viktor just rolls his eyes and buries his face into your neck.

🌙 He hands you a cup of tea and sits down across from you and Viktor "Drink up dear, mortals like you need to stay warm in the winter~"

🌙 Silas was the most respectful one out of the 3, he was always taking care of you and making sure the others didn't make you feel uncomfortable, but of course he was just as obsessive of you as they were.

🌙 Viktor is such a cuddle bug, always hugging you close every chance he gets. He'd even have the luxury to sleep with you, an activity he hasn't done in a while. He might not need to sleep, but just lying in bed with your adorable sleeping form was like being in heaven for him.

🌙 Garrick love love loves chatting with you. Rambling to you about people he's killed or jewelry he's looted off of his food weren't the best topics to talk about, but he's got no one else to talk to! And you are his darling after all!

🌙 And you could do nothing about any of it. You were treated like a glorified pet and there was no way to leave or escape of have any time for yourself..

🌙 It continued on like this until the caravan came to a stop by a small town. The weather was much colder now than it was in your hometown with rain softly pouring down from the sky.

🌙 Your heart drops, knowing what they're going to do here.

🌙 They all come off the caravan, Silas going to give the horses some food. You refused to leave the caravan in your anxiety-stricken state.

🌙 Garrick notices your nervousness and smiles, sitting next to you and putting his forehead to yours "Darling, you miss home don't you~?" he coos softly.

🌙 You nod slightly as you refuse to look at him or even move.

🌙 The vampire sighs and rests his head on your shoulder and holds your hand. "I know honey...but we won't hurt you! And besides, you don't know these people anyway! You scared we'll kill them and stuff? It's fine! We do it all the time!" He laughs. He wasn't making anything better..

🌙 "You're shit at comforting people Silas." Viktor looks at the red head with a deadpanned expression. "Oh up yours Vik!" Garrick rolls his eyes at him.

🌙 At least that made you lighten up a bit..

🌙 Garrick pulls you up from your seat and you get out of the caravan, rain hitting your face before the vampire opens up an umbrella and holds you close to him so you don't get wet.

🌙 "Its fine dear, this is the last stop before we head back to our new home~" Silas walks over and places a kiss on your cheek.

🌙 Wait..home?..

🌙 "Now gentleman! Who's hungry~?"

sorry this is a bit short ! but feel free to request or ask anything about these blorbos! i love em a lot !

#yandere #yandere x gn reader #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere oc #yandere male #oc yandere #yandere x male reader #tw yandere #monster #monster fucker #monster boyfriend #monster lover #monster x you #monster x human #monster x reader #vampire #vampire x reader #vampire x you #female reader #x reader #yandere x female reader #fem reader #female #trans male #x male reader #male reader

[rs-hawk]

Another version of Bestie’s Werewolf Brother where you two have fallen out of contact for years and when he finds out you’re having a baby with someone else because you start being friends with his sister again and he gets really possessive and starts stalking you again. He finds out you’re a single mom and suddenly he realizes he just wants a baby with you even if it’s not his pup 🥺❣️Mostly fluff plz but I’d love some smut too

Not you bringing out this trope when I literally posted it’s my fave. Lol. No smut all fluff but I might do more with this if y’all like it 🥰

When you got pregnant your boyfriend acted like he was happy. He lavished you in compliments and told everyone how excited he was to be starting a family with you. Your childhood bestie and you even reconnected, her excited about baby names and planning your baby shower. It’s like you picked up right where you left off.

When you ask about her brother, she’s obviously uncomfortable. She comes up with all kinds of excuses about why he doesn’t want to talk to you, or why he seemed to have just vanished off social media recently. You can’t help but feeling hurt but you keep it to yourself.

When you catch your boyfriend cheating on you, you end up packing up all your stuff in a night and moving back in with your parents. It sucks. You can’t help but feel like a failure. You start going for walks more at the local park, just trying anything to keep your mind off your predicament.

“Hey,” you heard a familiar voice say from behind you.

You didn’t know that he had already been stalking you for months. Ever since he found out you were pregnant. He thought he could get past it, get past you, but hearing that you had been with someone else drove him crazy. He wanted to be angry with you. To hate you, even, and that other man’s baby, but the longer he stalked you, the more he realized how much he missed you. How he just wanted to be around you again.

“Hi,” you said as you turned around, awkwardly holding your arms in front of your stomach. You knew he knew, but you couldn’t help but wish this wasn’t the first time he was seeing you after all these years.

“It looks like you’re doing well.”

You shrugged, moving your arms and shoving your hands in your pockets. “I guess.”

“My sister said you’re… getting engaged,” he managed to get out without growling.

“We were, but some stuff happened. I’m living back at home until I can find a place.”

He knew he shouldn’t be happy, but he was. After that, he started offering to help you with everything. Need someone to drive you to an OBGYN appointment? Needed help putting the bassinet together? Couldn’t figure out which kind of car seat to get? He was always there and offering to help.

You were surprised, pleasantly so. You’d never thought much about it, but you didn’t think that he would be so involved in your pregnancy when 1) you weren’t dating and 2) it wasn’t his baby. As the weeks passed, he started asking to touch your stomach when he saw movement. He came to your parents’ house all hours of the day if you even hinted that you wanted to see him or if you wanted something.

When you went into labor, your mother took you, much to his disappointment. He came to visit you of course, but he seemed a little off when he came in. His head was down, and he wasn’t nearly as imposing as he normally was, especially considering he was mostly shifted. Then a nurse came back in with the baby after giving a bath.

“Oh! Here’s Dad,” she smiled as she placed the small bundle in his arms, though she did admittedly look a little uneasy.

You started to correct her, but he just started at the little one in his arms with wide eyes. You’d never seen him be so gentle. His ears were perked up, and you couldn’t help but notice his tail started to wag. He shushed you mid-sentence as you tried telling the nurse he wasn’t the dad.

“Human babies are so tiny,” he whispered, rocking the baby in his arms.

The nurse looked between you before slipping out. He stayed almost the entire time you were in the hospital. Even your parents left more often than him. While he was attentive to you, he was even more attentive to the baby. Asking the nurses to show him how to swaddle. Reading up on when human babies can eat solid food (because it’s just a couple months for pups).

He’s the one that took you home. Your parents are excited when they see his car pull up and you’re admittedly a little confused. When you get inside, you see that he took it upon himself to baby proof everything. He put together an entire nursery when you were just going to have the baby sleep in your room in the bassinet. He even sprung to get a crib since he had read online that infants can only be in bassinets for a few months.

That’s when you realize that he really is the best for you. He’s always been the best for you, and he’s the best for your baby too. The baby fell asleep in his arms before he settled the tiny bundle into the crib. Tears pricked your eyes as you wrapped your arms around his back, burying your face in his shoulder.

“You’ll stay, right?”

A low rumble in his chest vibrated your body when he spun around, grabbing you up in his arms. “I’ll never leave again.”

#writers on tumblr #writing #fantasy romance #author #monster lover #monster romance #fantasy smut #monster fucker #monster fuqqer #werewolf fluff #fluff #fantasy fluff #monster husband #monster kink #monster bf #monster boyfriend #monsterfucking nsft #monsterfucking cw #tw monsterfucking #monster fudger #monster fluff #monster k!nk #stuff i wrote #authors #romance fluff #shapeshifter romance #werewolf romance #romance #romance author #romance writing

[signedeclipse]

Please could i request a oneshot of Haganezuka meeting and falling in love with a hashira reader (Tanjiro’s older sibling) 💙💙

One More Time [Haganezuka X Reader]

Reader is Human Gender Neutral | Fluff + Romance

Recomended Song - Rather Be by Clean Bandit

It wasn't his first sword delivery, but Hotaru had never been assigned to a slayer permanently before, having only made swords for beginners of the corps or for practice, since most upper ranks in the corps chose older, more seasoned nichirin swordsmiths.

Part of him was excited, being able to tend to an individual's abilities and forge something more unique, as opposed to the clear cut ones most starter blades were.

The other part was frustrating, because it wasn't for anyone unique, no one had specifically chosen him, just a random assignment since all the others had enough to care for. Still, he tried to feel grateful that this was a chance at becoming more reputable.

He remembered his first encounter with the Kamado, the excitement at the idea of a red blade, the disappointment that followed.

It all loomed over him now that the Kamado name had long since grown. It was hard not to recognize such a unique family; a demon, one of the fastest-growing slayers, and the sun hashira. While he wasn't one to take back his words so easily, he was reminded by the chief to bite his tongue the next time he tried mouthing off to the family.

But luck had not been on his side.

When news got back to him that Tanjiro had broken his blade for the second time, Hotaru felt a mix of anger and shame.

Anger that once again his craftsmanship had not been enough, and shame at the idea that it'd likely happen again were he not more careful.

The idea flashed across his mind that his failure twice in a row might mean he would lose Tanjiro as a client of sorts, or that he would be forced to resign from being a swordsmith, so he avoided confronting or contacting him in favour of preparing himself to make the best blade imaginable.

There he was, as the sun had barely begun to rise and the sky was a mid-blue hue, casting the village and its surroundings in a cool tone. Though he slept soundly, he woke up before anyone else got the chance so he could get a head start on his exercises, which gave him time to ponder how long he had before Tanjiro came to him instead.

"So, you must be Haganezuka."

The voice almost startled him from his perch atop a cliffside, though he barely showed it besides the clenching of his fists. The voice was entirely unfamiliar, though before he could turn to look at them their presence had moved.

"Is that a yes?" You were to his right, which he turned to finally meet the individual who had managed to find him.

While still taken back by the speed at which you had moved, he was also very surprised to see the same maroon eyes as Kamado, except it was clear that you were no Tanjiro.

"Well, I'm sure you've realised who I am, but you can just refer to me as Kamado."

Hotaru had not expected your presence in the village, had you been sent in place of your brother?

"I don't have a blade ready yet." Haganezuka had bowed his head slightly. He could run and be stubborn all he wanted, but Hashira could be far more harsh in punishment.

"Blade? I'm not- no-" You had let out a string of laughs, facing away from him and covering your mouth to suppress the giggles. He looked so worried! Even if you hadn't seen his face, the atmosphere around him had certainly dropped.

"It's his first time in the village, I couldn't miss it! Well, that and my swordsmith will be retiring, so I'm here to meet some of the newer generations and pick someone I feel is capable. I was never a fan of blind recommendations." While you spoke, Hotaru had straightened out his posture and looked back out at the village, the sun now growing the area with orange rays.

You were very relaxed, and far more talkative than any hashira he had met, so any intimidation he felt melted away, especially considering you weren't here to scold him.

"Anyways, I hope you give my little brother a hard time, sometimes I think he gets it too easy because of his kindness, and he needs to be ready to combat issues that aren't life-threatening..." Judging by your words, you hadn't seen Haganezuka chasing after your sibling with knives, which relieved him.

Still pouting from his faulty blades, he kept silent, deciding he didn't want to say much if more to prove a point for himself.

By the time he glanced to his right again, you were long gone, with nothing but the imprint of where you sat left in the grass.

.

The next time he saw you, you were with Kanamori, who held two nichirin blades that had seen better days.

Having been found by Tanjiro and been given the blade he was to repair, Hotaru was on his way to eat and prepare for the gruelling 72 hours worth of work he had ahead of him.

Despite the raging inspiration he felt, you had stopped him dead in his tracks, pulling all the air from him until he felt weak again. Hotaru hadn't realised how much he'd hoped to see you again, and you were still here.

"Ah, have you met my good friend, Haganezuka?" Kanamori motioned to the taller swordsmith, who you noticed now had a wide hat fit with chimes...and his upper torso was revealed, the rest of his clothes wrapped around his waist.

You nodded, smiling and waving to the surprisingly well-built swordsmith, trying to hide your rosy cheeks with a smile.

"I have, but, it's a long story." Shrugging your shoulders, Kanamori hummed pleasantly, before returning to a slow strive towards his workshop, pulling you along considering your arms were linked.

Apparently, Kanamori had experience with dual blades, so you had chosen him for his kind personality and experience since you were a dual wielder.

Before you had entirely left, you turned to look back at Haganezuka, throwing a thumbs up.

"You better make sure this one doesn't break!! I'm trusting you!"

Of course, he would have to make the best blade he could manage, for Tanjiro; if not to prove himself as a worthy swordsmith, then to impress the eldest Kamado.

Author Note -  For some reason this took me so long to write I get procrasinating but WE GOT ER DOWN!!! Thank you for requesting <3

Word Count - 1,058

Art Credit - Kimetsu No Yaiba (2019)

#haganezuka #haganezuka x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer oneshots #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kny x reader #kny oneshots #oneshot #x reader #reader insert

[shellshocklove]

conversation | peter parker

pairing: college!peter parker x college!female!reader

summary: peter parker is in the friendzone. and it sucks. especially when the girl he’s in love with is dating his best friend. smack dab in the middle of a bad situation peter struggles to keep his feelings at bay when the girl of his dreams comes to him for advice about her failing relationship.

warnings: i guess post!nwh, swearing, cheating, peter pining for reader, everyone being a bad guy, smut 18+ (minors dni!!!), unprotected sex, creampie

word count: 4.1k

a/n: um my first peter fic! it’s based on the song conversation by joni mitchell. listen to it, or don’t, i’m not your mother. i said i was going to stop posting writing, but i have “i must create or i’ll go crazy” disease so... (i’m still not a writer)

main masterlist / ao3

She comes to him for conversation, for comfort, for consultation. But Peter wished she came to him for something else.

He remembers the first time he saw you. How he’d thought his heart had stopped for a second, forgetting how to do its most basic function. How could someone look so effortlessly beautiful? How could a voice sound so sweet while asking such a mundane question?

“Is this seat taken?”.

“N-n-no!” he’d manage to stutter out, his cheeks flushed red and completely taken aback by the fact that you were talking to him. You’d given him a playful smile before seating yourself next to him.

Did he believe in love at first sight? Yes, after seeing you for the first time, Peter started to think he did.

Meeting you in a chemistry class, Peter thought, must be the universe’s take on a bad joke, because… you two had chemistry. Everything just felt so easy when he hung out with you. His smile always wide, cheeks hurting. Conversation flowing freely, or engulfed in a silence, that was always comfortable. The only thing though, even though you two had chemistry, you weren’t any good at it. Actually, you were barely passing.

And that’s how your time began. Sharing sodas after class, in a rundown diner, over chemistry homework. You’d seen how Peter had gotten straight A’s on all his tests, and one day you’d carefully asked if he would be so kind as to help you. Those were the actual words you’d used. If Peter would be so kind. As if he wouldn’t have done anything you’d ask without a second thought. Okay, maybe not anything. He doesn’t think he’d murder someone if you asked… or maybe… if you were in danger and it was the only way–

“Peter!” you laughed, waving your hand in front of his face, “Are you even listening to me?”.

“Huh!?” he hummed, a familiar warmth spreading through his cheeks as your laugh rang through his ears.

“You zoned out a little,” you said, scrunching up your nose. Oh god he loved when you did that– you looked so cute.

“Oh! S-sorry” he stuttered out, still embarrassed that you’d caught him daydreaming, “What were you saying?”.

“Ehm… just forget it” you looked away, waving your hand, “It was just something Harry did again”.

His name coming from your mouth felt like a bucket of ice-cold water over Peter’s head. Harry Osborn, your boyfriend, and Peter’s roommate.

As much as Peter loved Harry, he didn’t treat you well. This was usually how your conversations during your study dates would go, once it was clear that after a few hours of studying, you were done with chemistry for the day.

You’d usually bring up small things that Harry had done that hurt you or annoyed you. And Peter would be tasked with giving you advice, or comfort, or consolation. You always apologized after, for bringing Harry up in conversation, but Peter always brushed it off telling you it was fine. But it wasn’t. It always reminded him about his own failures. How if he hadn’t been such a pussy at Betty’s party, all those months ago, and told you how he felt, this wouldn’t just be a study date, but a real date. The problem was just that Harry had beat him to it that night. In Harry’s defense, he didn’t know about Peter’s feelings about you. No one did.

You’d disappeared at some point in the night, and Peter figured you’d gone home. Turns out you did go home, but not to your own apartment, but to Peter’s and Harry’s instead. A fact Peter didn’t know until the morning after when he’d bumped into you in the kitchen, his heart dropping to his stomach at the sight of you in nothing but Harry’s shirt.

Peter’s dreams weren’t completely crushed at that moment. He still harbored hope for you. Harry was quite the whore (Harry’s own words by the way, not Peter’s), and this wasn’t the first time Peter ran into one of his hook-ups in the kitchen after a night out. In Peter’s mind this was only a one-night stand. But he couldn’t have been more wrong. Not soon after, you started showing up at the penthouse, not to hang out with Peter, but with Harry instead.

Peter tried his best to not be disappointed when you came over. But the tiny spark of hope he had about one day calling you his, soon fizzled out and died. Every time he saw you and Harry kissing, holding hands; he knew nothing would ever happen between the two of you.

Trying to forget you, he started busying himself with classes and patrol, seeing you less and less. He’d run into you sometimes when you were visiting Harry. Only a short “Hello” leaving Peter’s lips as he’d retire to his room before Harry could see how much Peter wanted you.

Back in his room, Peter would convince himself that you and Harry being together was the best thing for you. If you were with Peter, he’d only end up hurting you. You deserve the very best, and Peter knew he would never be good enough. He was a fucking mess most of the time. He was always late to things, never on time, he couldn’t afford to treat you to nice things like Harry did, and his double life could make you a target, which was the last thing he wanted.

Peter kept his distance the best he could, but as time went on it got harder and harder to convince himself that Harry treated you the way Peter thought you deserved. Peter knew Harry wasn’t being honest with you, and it killed him to keep his mouth shut. The bubbling anger simmering under the surface every time he’d see a girl who wasn’t you, slip out of Harry’s bedroom. Then like a curse, a few moments later, his enhanced hearing enabled him to eavesdrop on yours’ and Harry’s conversations on the phone. Harry would always apologize for being too busy to come over and hang out. And with the softest voice, you’d let Harry off the hook every time. Leaving the penthouse, to go on patrol after nights like that, Peter admitted, his punches hit a little harder.

Your relationship tasted especially bitter in Peter’s mouth whenever Harry would throw parties at the penthouse. A hand over your shoulder or around your waist, never leaving your side, showing you off like you were a prized possession and not a human being. Was this the final straw for Peter? Seeing yet another way Harry didn’t treat you as well as he should; that had made him not want to make up an excuse, like he normally would, when you’d ask him if he wanted to study at the diner.

Peter had kept his distance from you for the last six months. Tried to stay in his lane. To turn the other eye. To fold his feelings for you in on itself like a piece of paper so many times he hoped they’d disappear. But one look at you again, sitting across from him at your regular booth at the diner, and his origami-ed feelings had sprung up again like a blooming flower in spring.

“I just really wanted to see him, you know? I’ve been so stressed about this chemistry exam– that I know I’m gonna fail by the way, and work’s been kicking my ass– and I just wanted to hang out with my boyfriend… but he canceled on me three times this week”.

Or maybe the final straw, for Peter, was the way your whole body deflated in front of him. Peter could feel his heart break in real time watching you turn your head away, hiding the wobble of your bottom lip. And the worst part of it all was that Peter knew why Harry had canceled on you. He’d been over at someone else’s place. But Peter knew he couldn’t tell you that.

Carefully he reached out his hand, brushing it over the back of yours as you rested it on the table. “I’m sure Harry’s just been busy! I know he’s got his exams in a few weeks, and he hasn’t been home as much lately” Peter said, trying his best to make you feel better.

You watched your hands for a moment, how Peter brushed his hand over yours trying to sooth you the best he could. Then you turned your hand, wrapping it around his in a gentle hold. The soft touch of your warm hand, making Peter stop breathing for a second.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “you’re probably right, Peter”. You tried your best to smile, but Peter could see your sorrow written all over your face, breaking Peter’s heart even more.

“You’re a good friend Peter!” you started, “I’m so sorry for always talking about Harry, but it’s just that you know him so well, so it’s easier to talk about him with you– and you always manage to say the right thing to make me feel better” you looked down at your intertwining hands.

“It’s almost scary how easily you can make me feel better Peter– it’s like you have superpowers or something” you said, a chuckle escaping your lips.

“Oh, I didn’t tell you about my superpowers?” Peter quipped, trying his best to cheer you up even more. A smile spread across your face as you shook your head.

“My powers are actually being very good at chemistry– AND knowing how to make my friend who’s failing her chemistry class feel better”.

A giggle left your lips at Peter’s joke as you let out a sarcastic “haha, very funny”, playing along.

If only you knew though. How he wished that this mess could be fixed with his actual superpowers. How he wished he could just put on the suit and save you from Harry. How he wished he could free you.

Landing safely on the rooftop of Harry’s penthouse, Peter looked around for his backpack he’d hid with his clothes. He’d managed to hide his double life from Harry so far, and he planned on it staying that way, which meant changing in and out of his suit crouched behind a rooftop vent, every day.

He was back earlier than usual, cutting tonight’s patrol short as it had turned out to be a quiet night. He’d stopped a man stealing a lady’s purse, and after he’d helped a man, who he was 90% sure had dementia, find his way back to his apartment. After that he’d just swung around the city for a few hours. At sunset he’d found a good spot at the top of this new skyscraper they were building downtown. His feet dangled off the scaffolding as he watched the sky turn every shade of pink and orange, before the sun dipped below the horizon.

Back home, on the roof, Peter felt the soft touch of the spring night against his naked skin. He quickly changed out of his suit before stuffing it back into his backpack, swinging it over his shoulder before he headed towards the rooftop door. With a light bounce in his step, Peter made his way down the stairs, his head filled with thoughts about all the studying he needed to do before his exam next week. Slipping through the front door he’s so distracted by his own thoughts he almost doesn’t hear it. The sounds of muffled moans accompanied by Harry’s bedpost hitting the wall.

But he does hear it, and images of how sad you’d looked earlier at the diner start flickering through Peter’s head. Before any rational thoughts can stop him, he’s fished his phone from the back pocket of his jeans. He’s had enough. His fingers work on their own accord, pulling up your contact.

Peter hi, um are you at the penthouse right now?

He knew you weren’t, but he figured this was the best way to bring it up. Taking long strides across the floor, he made his way towards his bedroom door. Why did he suddenly feel like he needed to hide?

He passed through his bedroom door while he slipped his backpack off his shoulder. Not even ten seconds later his phone buzzed in his hands with your reply. He sat down quickly on his bed, one leg bouncing in an anxious rhythm, as he read your reply.

You no? i’m at home why?

Peter i think you should come over there’s a girl with harry in his room

Did this make him a bad person Peter asked himself as he watched the three dotted bubble appear and then disappear. Was this just him acting out of his own selfishness? Letting the devil on his shoulder whisper in his ear and guide his hand? Or did it make him a hero? Saving you from a toxic relationship?

You i’m coming over.

The sound of your footsteps echoed down the streets, mixing with Peter’s calls of your name as he practically jogged behind you trying to catch up to you.

“Peter” you sighed, “just please go back home”.

“No!” he finally caught up to you, grabbing a hold of your wrist, pulling it a little, making you slow down.

“I don’t think you should be alone right now”.

Your face was blank, the only sign of any emotion coming from your restless eyes dancing across his face. He couldn’t decipher what you were thinking. You were angry of course. You were furious only minutes ago when you stormed out the door with both Harry and Peter at your heel.

Harry had spoken his sorry sentences. Telling you it wasn’t what it looked like. Begging for your forgiveness. But he was only kidding himself trying to convince you it wasn’t what it looked like, that he hadn’t cheated on you, when you’d literally caught him with his dick inside another woman.

Harry stayed behind in the lobby, probably thinking it wasn’t worth it to go after you into the spring night, in only his robe. Just as Peter were about to rush after you Harry spoke up,

“If you go after her you’re dead to me!”.

The venomous bite to Harry’s tone stopped Peter dead in his tracks.

“I know you fucking told her” Harry accused, “If you go after her I’m kicking you out– I NEVER want to see you again”.

But standing here, out on the streets of New York at midnight, holding your hand Peter knew he’d made the right decision.

“Ok” you said it so softly Peter didn't think he’d even hear it if his hearing wasn’t enhanced.

“Ok” he repeated.

You pulled your hand away, a knife twisting in Peter’s heart, and started walking. You didn’t say a single word on the way back to your apartment. Peter imagined you were hurt, but you weren’t crying, and Peter didn’t know if that scared him or comforted him.

Safely back inside your apartment you didn’t even acknowledge his presence as you threw your jacket off by the door. Then you walked down the hallway, taking a right at the end, to where he assumed your living room must be. Peter had never actually been in your apartment before.

He followed you down the hallway, after neatly hanging both his and your jacket on your coat rack. He found you on the floor by your couch, your back resting against the front, holding your knees to your chest, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself, as soft sobs escaped you.

“I’m sorry you had to find out like that” Peter apologized, sitting down next to you on your carpet. A feeling like his only purpose in life was to comfort you, overcame him. So, he wrapped a hand around your shoulders, pulling you against his chest. You leaned in closer to his body, your hands shifting from hugging yourself, to hugging Peter tightly.

“No, this was exactly how I needed to find out” you sobbed, “I needed to see it with my own eyes, or I wouldn’t have believed it”.

Peter let you cry until there weren't any tears left to cry, cooing you and whispering all the most reassuring words he could muster up past midnight.

“I don’t know why it hurts so bad… I think deep down I always knew he wasn’t being honest with me– he always kept me guessing” you said. No, Peter thought, he kept you down.

Before Peter could say anything, you lifted your head from his chest, a big wet spot on his t-shirt left in your wake. You looked him right in the eye, and Peter could feel a budding warmth of red covering the apples of his cheeks.

“Please Peter” you pleaded, moving your face closer, the closest it’s ever been to his. Your right hand traveled to cup his hot cheeks, pulling him even closer to your face. So close he felt your breath tickle his skin while you spoke,

“You always make me feel better– it’s your superpower, remember? Please make me feel better”.

Closing his eyes, Peter knew he couldn’t deny you, his heart screamed out for you. This was everything he wanted, was it not? With a shuddering breath and a heart beating out of his chest, he closed the space between you, brushing his lips over yours.

Your other hand cupped his other cheek, pulling him even closer to your body, letting out a small whimper as you kissed him back. Peter felt like his head was spinning. He didn’t know where he ended, and you began.

Then it all became a bit of a blur. His hands found your waist as you climbed onto his lap, brushing your tongue over his bottom lip, deepening the kiss. Your hand left his cheek to toy with his hair, and Peter just about moaned into your mouth. He needed more of you, and with the way you were grinding down on his growing bulge, he knew you did too.

Warmth flooded his body wherever you touched him, and he didn’t think he could ever get enough of you. When your hand left his hair, he just about sighed with disappointment, until he realized how you toyed with the hem of his t-shirt. Raising his hands, he helped you pull it off him. Absentmindedly, you threw it away, before your eyes fell to his chest, quickly scanning over his muscles before they traveled up to his face, where they looked into his soul. Half a second later you pulled him in for another heated kiss.

His hands fell to your ass, helping you grind down on him. Fuck, he was properly hard now, his cock straining against his jeans. With every brush of your core against his cock you whimpered into his mouth, making Peter almost feel lightheaded. You were so pretty. Your lips tasted like raspberries, and under his hands your skin was softer than velvet.

“Take off your pants please” you pleaded against his skin as you started pressing soft kisses down along his jaw and neck.

His hands raced to unbutton his jeans. You pulled away from his neck, staggering to your feet on wobbly legs, making a whine leaving Peter’s lips. Over him you started pulling on your pants, dragging them down your legs along with your panties in one go. Mesmerized by your silhouette, Peter almost forgot what he was doing. You quickly sat down beside him, fingers coming up to hook around the waistband of Peter’s jeans. Then you started pulling them down to his mid-thigh along with his boxers. Peter almost forgot to breathe as you freed his aching cock.

When you climbed onto his lap, Peter’s brain started working again. His hands fell to your ass, steadying you as you got comfortable on his lap.

“D-did you want me to…” Peter trailed off, not knowing how to say what he wanted to say. Instead, he showed you. His right hand rubber over your ass and hip before his fingers brushed over your clit. You mewled at the contact, your eyes closing before you shook your head.

“No, no I just want you– I need you, Peter”.

Fuck, Peter thought. He’d dreamt of hearing you tell him you wanted him, for months. And now it wasn’t a dream anymore.

“O-okay” he stuttered, reaching a hand between your bodies, grabbing at his shaft in a rough hold. With his other hand he helped guide your hips to hover over his tip, sliding it back and forth over your slit, and lining it up with your opening. He could feel how wet and desperate you were, coating his cock in your arousal.

With a hand resting on his shoulder, you slowly sat down on his cock. First slipping the tip in, before your walls swallowed the rest of him, taking him fully inside. A choked moan fell from Peter’s lips as he savored the feeling of your velvet pulsing walls around him. Rocking your hips back and forth, your puffy clit rubbing up against his pelvis, as your mouth fell open in a silent gasp, gaping around words you couldn’t get out.

“Shit” you panted, “You’re so deep”.

“Yeah” Peter breathed out, head falling back against the couch, “You feel me in your tummy?”.

“Fuck,” you lifted your hips, slowly starting to move, “y-yes, I d-do”.

Looking up at you, as you moved over him, Peter thought you looked like an angel. The way your ceiling light lit up the back of your head, Peter was sure you were wearing a halo.

Your rhythm increased and soon you were bouncing in his lap. Your breathy moans falling from your lips, the wet noises coming from where you were connected, and the way you were starting to clench around him, were making the tension in Peter’s stomach grow. Knitting his eyebrows together, Peter didn’t know how much longer he was going to last.

Scared he’d finish before you, his fingers found your clit, pressing down in tight circles. Under the touch of his fingers you almost jumped, while a shuddering breath left your lips. Then Peter felt himself start to get desperate, meeting your bounces with a thrusting of his hip, pushing his throbbing cock even further inside you.

Every brush of his fingers over your clit, coincided with a thrust of his hips, and soon he felt your wall flutter around him. He could feel how your wetness ran down his shaft and down his balls, and he knew you were as close to the edge of ecstasy as he was. His fingers never let up on your clit, and soon you clenched around him so hard he couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“Fuck,” Peter spat, “I’m gonna cum”.

“I–Inside” you moaned, “You can come inside– it’s okay”.

Your words pushed him over the edge, making him come hard inside you with a grunt. He didn’t slow down his fingers on your clit, and the feeling of him filling you up and the brush of his fingers, must’ve pushed you over the edge. Half a second later your hips stilled as Peter felt the frantic pulses of your orgasm milking his cock.

The feeling of you riding out your orgasm on his sensitive cock, clenching down on him as your body shook with aftershocks, it was almost too much, too intense for Peter. His breath came out in hard pants, and his body felt hot to the touch.

Peter didn’t know how much time passed as you both came down from your highs. It could have been three seconds or three hours. All Peter knew was that with you, he lost all sense of time. But this moment of bliss must come to an end. Everything is temporary, and someone must be the first to pull away.

On wobbling legs, you slid off his lap, sitting down next to him on the floor. You leaned back, grabbing your panties off the couch. Peter averted his eyes. The act was somehow too intimate to watch, even after what you two had just done. Instead, he busied himself with pulling his pants back over his ass, and tucking himself away, as a silence fell over the both of you. It felt heavy, loaded with questions he didn’t know if he wanted an answer too. After a few minutes a whisper left Peter’s lips, breaking the silence,

“I think I might be homeless”.

You didn’t answer right away, but Peter could hear your breathing change multiple times, like you were going to say something,

“I’m sorry”.

tagging some mutuals (this is so embarrassing): @hollandweather​, @luciwritesstuff​, @userholland​, @t-lostinworlds​, @silkscream​, @sparklingsin​, @logangarfield​, @justapurrcat​, @tomdutch​, @devotion​, @lnmp89​, @mayal0pez​, @melodicheauxxo-writes​,

...

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker x y/n #spider man x reader #spider man #tom holland #peter parker smut #peter parker angst #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #tom holland smut #tom holland fanfiction #spider man smut #spider man fanfiction #mcu!peter x reader #peter parker x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #*writing

[cupcakeslushie]

Ayup! So, question about Donnie's view of his brothers:

He's never met Raph, only seen him once, hasn't actually met Mikey but has kinda stalked him, and talking to Leo was like talking to a filing cabinet. He loves them, but he also hallucinates them, and does he just have kind of made up personalities for them in his head, based off of so little?

“Talking to a filing cabinet” (wheeze) sorry I just gotta take a sec…(ﾟ∀ﾟ)

So before actually meeting them all, and forming a real bond with his brothers, Three is obsessed with comparing himself to them. Not necessarily in a bad, resentful way, but in a sadly unachievable desperate way. He (by way of listening to Draxum) puts them all on pedestals without actually knowing their skills. He just assumes they would be perfect, strong specimens, and never really thinks much of what their personalities are like. While the hallucinations that constantly plague him are convincing enough to fool him in the moment. Three is still able to remind himself in the after, that they are not his brothers. Most days he talks more to those shadows, than Draxum, the goyles, or even Vee. They almost never leave him, especially in the last year, when, as far as he knows, Vee has just up and disappeared on him.

Through the footage he can get his hands on, he sees Mikey’s resilience in battle, and is curious about the mystical acumen there. Vee tells him about how The Oni spares more lives than Big Mama demands he take, all while still managing to make an entertaining enough performance that he avoids being punished for his mercy. Mickey doesn’t even realize he’s doing it in those battles, but he’s mimicking the theatrical Leo from his memories, when they would all play together, and his big brother would weave these bright and lively stories for them act out. Donnie is very protective of Mikey, as Draxum has always held Four over Three’s head. When they meet, Donnie is really thrown off by how happy and bright Michelangelo is.

For Raph, Three is baffled by the kind expression he sees on One’s face. Three has always assumed he would be an absolute power house monster, based solely off his species and the size he must be. When Three watches Raph rescuing Mickey from Big Mama—a scenario Three could only dream of completing—there’s a kindness and type of strength, Three had never even considered. Three grows desperate to experience that safe feeling, but it also brings a sort of hopelessness. Subconsciously he begins waiting for a similar kind of rescue. When he meets Raph, Donnie is on his best behavior. Raph is a sweet and caring blanket of comfort, but he’s still huge and a possible threat. If Donnie makes Raph unhappy in any way, he could be kicked out, and sent back to Draxum.

For Leo, yes, it is sometimes like talking to a brick wall. Three gets almost nothing from him, except a feeling of failure. Draxum is expecting Three to convert Leonardo to their cause, or at the very least gain some inside knowledge that they can exploit at the right time. But Leo is so unyielding, Three is almost more scared to talk to him than anything, because can never make any headway. But Draxum doesn’t accept failure, so Three goes all in every single time. When he meets Leo again, it’s like being reunited with a stranger. Leo is guilty and overcompensating for his cold attitude towards Three, but he still has some moments where his anger is scary.

#rottmnt #ask slushie #separated au #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt separated au #rise donnie #rise leo #rise raph #rise mikey #ew au #sep!au infodump #Empyrean Weeping Au

[dindjarindiaries]

I Still See You

summary: In the aftermath of the Morak mission, Din’s faced with a crisis you only hope you can help to resolve somehow.

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x reader

tags: angst, trauma, religious guilt, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff

rating: T

word count: 3.582k

main masterlist • din djarin masterlist

You could only take your first deep breath when Din was finally back in your sight. He trudged down the boarding ramp of Boba Fett’s vessel, a stark contrast to the confidence with which he carried himself on Karthon upon facing Mayfeld. The Imperial armor he wore was no doubt responsible for that.

These thoughts were shoved to the back of your mind as you closed the gap between you with hurried steps. Your greeting was breathless in your hardly concealed desperation. “Hey.” You set your hand on his shoulder that was down a pauldron, a substitution for the embrace you so badly wished to give him. You knew better with the eyes of others watching you. “How’d it go?”

Din took a gentle grasp on your wrist and subverted your expectations in a way that made your eyes go wide. He dropped your hand from his shoulder and, despite the watching eyes, wrapped his arms around you, his gloved palms splayed upon your back. He was tense with a breath you could feel in the heaviness of his shoulders as you held him back, but he released the tension with a sigh of relief as his fists gently closed around the material of your tunic.

He was grounding himself back to you, and as sweet as that feeling was, it was also harrowing. Something had gone wrong. Your heart sunk into the depths of your stomach. Have we lost all hope of getting Grogu back?

“We got the coordinates.” Din spoke as if he had just read your mind. His voice was quiet, but not enough to give anything away.

You exhaled in your own relief, your eyes closing as you held him tighter. “Thank the stars.” You paused to see if he would reveal what was behind the invisible weight on his shoulders, and when he didn’t, you spoke once again. “What else?”

Din’s chest inflated with a breath. “That’s it. The mission’s done.” He pulled away from you but kept you close, gesturing with his helmeted head back to the ship behind him. “I’m letting Mayfeld change before I do the same.” His rasp slightly gave out as he said the words, a tell only you could identify.

You gave him another once-over and moved closer to him. “Are you hurt?”

“No.” Din looked away from you, one of his gloved hands holding his fist as he let out a gentle exhale. “Just… had a run-in with some pirates.” He rolled his shoulders and tapped the armorless one you had been holding earlier. “This armor isn’t as strong as beskar.”

You weren’t fully convinced, but his logic tracked. There was no doubt a fight without his beskar would leave him sore, especially if he had forgotten about the fact he wasn’t wearing it. “How many pirates?”

Din huffed, his hands falling back to his sides. “Let’s just say it was more than one.”

You managed to chuckle with him as you nudged his bare shoulder with your own. “That explains all those explosions.”

The visor of Din’s Imperial helmet gave you an evident once-over. “You weren’t near them, were you?”

“No, not at all.” You couldn’t help smiling at his concern for you. “The three of us were just surprised by them at the lookout.”

Din nodded. “Good.”

Something still wasn’t right, and it hung between you like a dense storm cloud. Even as Din’s visor looked beyond you, his gloved hand found yours, and he held your fingers in his grasp. The move was subconscious, another act of grounding that he had to do.

Yet, he still wouldn’t tell you why.

You wanted to believe, and could truly believe, that it was just the longing for Grogu, and the guilt that had been eating away at him ever since Tython. That was what had kept him up at night whenever you attempted rest before this mission. In his eyes, it was his own failure, and it always would be until he could make things right.

Now, he had the coordinates. You all did. You had the chance to help him make things right, but that darkness didn’t disappear from him. In fact, it was more intense than before.

“How was Mayfeld?” You hoped the question would ease the tension somehow, or at least help you get to the root of whatever Din was hiding from you. “I almost thought he wouldn’t make it back with the way he was talking before you left.”

Din tensed. So, it had something to do with Mayfeld. That didn’t surprise you; it only made you kick yourself for not thinking of it earlier. “It was… better than expected.” Din nodded and looked at you again. “He wasn’t as bad as I thought he’d be.” He gave his head a quick tilt to the side. “Most of the time, at least.”

“Yeah?” You offered him a small smile, hoping it would either dispel or reveal the invisible weight he held upon his shoulders. “I bet that bonding time spent inside the juggernaut wasn’t awkward at all.”

That at least got a chuckle out of Din. “Yeah. It was…” He trailed off, his visor looking into the distance again. His grasp on your hand pulsated, as if he couldn’t decide whether to hold on or let go.

You gave him time, but soon, your concern got the best of you. Your voice was a whisper as you called for him. “Din?”

Din’s visor found your gaze, though he couldn’t speak before someone else did. “Good work back there,” Cara’s voice announced from behind you. You closed your eyes and took a breath, forcing yourself to mask your worry for now as you turned to face her. She nodded at Din. “Destroying the facility was a good call.”

“It wasn’t mine.” Din gestured to the ship behind him. “It was Mayfeld’s.”

Cara raised an eyebrow. “Huh.” Her tone revealed her genuine surprise. “Well, he really has some sharpshooter in him, I’ll give him that. It was a nice shot.”

“It was.”

“You made it easy for us.” It was Fennec who now joined the group, and she rested the end of her rifle against the ground to lean on it as she offered Din a nod of her own. “The three of us didn’t have to do much.”

“I saw your shots when we made our exit.” Din’s hand had dropped yours when Cara approached, but it remained busy at his side, pulling tight into a fist before relaxing again. “We couldn’t have made it without them.”

Your jaw tightened at that. The same thought had run through your mind whilst you were helping Cara and Fennec shoot down the Imperials. It’s what made your shots even more lethal.

“Mando!” Mayfeld’s voice was the one that grabbed everyone’s attention that time. Din practically whipped over his shoulder to face Mayfeld, who had changed back into the clothes he had been given at the beginning of the mission. “You’re good to go.”

Din tilted his helmet. “That was fast.”

Mayfeld huffed. “Yeah, that’s ‘cause I don’t have a thousand layers of armor to exchange.” He patted Din’s shoulder as he passed him by, and you were shocked to see that Din wasn’t bothered by it. “Good luck getting that off. It’s harder than it was to put on, and I didn’t think that was possible.”

Din snorted, and after a moment’s hesitation in which you were certain he shuffled towards you, he walked back towards the ship. You watched him the whole way, your jaw circling as you read him the best you could. Based on his interaction with Mayfeld, that wasn’t the key, after all. There was something far, far worse he was hiding, but you couldn’t think of what it would be.

There was a gentle hand on your shoulder, and as you turned to face it, you met Cara’s comforting glance. “So,” she began, clearly trying to get your mind off Din for the time being, “I heard the mission was a success.”

You cracked a genuine smile at that. “Yes. We have the coordinates.” Your gaze found Mayfeld’s and you nodded at him. “Thank you for your help.”

Mayfeld held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, it wasn’t really my choice.” Cara rolled her eyes as you lifted an eyebrow in warning. “But, really, it was mostly Mando. I just…” he paused, stalling as his gaze looked off to the side, “supported him.”

Your brow furrowed. Before you could interrogate him, Cara continued the conversation, remaining curt with him so as to not give him any true authority—despite how well the mission went. You were too lost inside your own mind to pay any attention to what they were saying. Mayfeld’s behavior was almost as odd as Din’s.

There was something you weren’t being told, and Din wasn’t the only one keeping it a secret.

Only the chiming of the comm link on your belt could pull you from your worried reverie. You stepped out of the circle the group had made and held the comm close to your lips. “Din?” Your gaze pierced through the open hatch of Boba’s ship. “Is everything okay?”

There was a pause before Din spoke. “Can you come help me?” Your heart shattered at the way his voice shook even through the comm link. “I… need help re-suiting.”

That was fair. You had been a part of the routine in helping Din remove and re-suit his beskar for so long that it was no surprise he needed your help to do it now—but something about it still felt different. That wasn’t a request. It was a plea. “Of course. I’m on my way.” You hung the comm link back on your belt and turned your head towards the group. “I’ll be back.”

As you started to walk towards the ship, Cara shot a lighthearted joke towards you. “You two better not take long! We’ve got an Imp to hunt!”

You lifted your middle finger without looking back at her, even if the joke managed to temporarily dispel the darkness from your racing thoughts. You smiled and shook your head as you lowered your hand, but as soon as you stepped into Boba’s ship and caught sight of Din within its depths, every sensation of warmth within you died.

For the first time since you met him many years ago, you were looking upon a pair of brown eyes instead of a dark visor.

You wanted to cover your eyes, turn your back on him, do anything to keep yourself from breaking Din’s Creed, but there was no point. The damage had been done. All you could do was stare, your gaze no doubt leaving a fiery trail across the skin of his face as you observed every inch of it.

One thousand emotions hit you all at once; the grief of knowing what Din had lost in doing this, the elation of finally getting to put a face to your heart, the concern of looking into an empty gaze, the blazing warmth of realizing he was even more handsome than you had imagined. It was dizzying.

The only thing that could cut through the noise of your own mind and heart was Din’s shattered statement. “I can’t do it.”

You frowned, then looked at what he was holding. His helmet sat between his gloved hands, the empty visor facing you. Din’s own gaze was studying it, watching as the metal rocked between his trembling hands. Your furrowed brow loosened.

Din thought he had already broken his Creed before you even stepped inside the ship.

You took a cautious step towards him. “Din…”

“The Creed says I can’t put this back on again.” You watched the corner of Din’s mouth pull tight before it relaxed again. There was a place under his eye that began to twitch, and you wished more than anything that you knew the tells of his face just as you knew them on the rest of his body. “I’ve made my sacrifice.”

You continued to close the gap between you with careful steps. “All you did was exchange one helmet for another, Din. And not for long, either. You did what you had to for the foundling in your charge.”

Din shook his head, his jaw pulled tight as his gaze rose to meet yours again. You froze, the electricity of it shocking you whole, despite the devastation you found there in the depths of his brown eyes. “No.” He paused, swallowing hard as he focused on his helmet again. “They saw me.”

You kept your voice soft as you pressed on. “Who saw you?”

Din slowly fell back onto the chair that was behind him. His gaze never once left the helmet, as if looking anywhere else would sever his sole tether to the galaxy. “Everyone in that room saw me.”

You were finally close enough to touch him, but you knew better than to reach for his face, as badly as you wanted to. Instead, your hand covered one of his on his helmet, and you knelt down to get closer to his level. Your quiet comfort allowed Din to explain himself.

“There was a terminal that held the coordinates to Gideon’s cruiser. It required a facial scan.” Din lifted his thumb to caress one of your fingers the best he could. “I had no other choice. It was either that or…” He couldn’t even bring the thought to life.

“You made the right one.” You nodded at Din, pleased to at least earn his gaze once again.

“I know.” Din’s voice lowered to an empty whisper as that place beneath his eye twitched again. “But that doesn’t make it any easier.”

You took a deep breath to keep yourself composed for his sake. “I understand.” Your free hand ran over the top of his helmet that continued to sit in his lap. “Removing your helmet to save a foundling, though… is that not the highest honor of your people?”

Din hesitated, and he blinked a few times before nodding. You smiled in encouragement.

“This wasn’t you removing your helmet for a simple pleasure or for an escape from who you are, Din.” You took his hand from his helmet and held it between both of yours. “This was you doing everything you could to save someone in your care.” You gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Someone you love.”

Din’s eyes closed at that, and he squeezed them shut more and more as he tucked his head towards the shoulder that bore his mudhorn pauldron. His voice shook again as he spoke. “I hope he’s okay.”

“It won’t be long now until we have him back.” You ran your thumbs over his hand. “Thanks to you.”

Din reopened his eyes and found your gaze again. For a moment, his lips curled up in a small smile, one that was notable enough to make your stomach fill with butterflies as you witnessed it for the first time. It was short-lived, however, as he soon began to frown and lose himself in the depths of your own gaze. His voice was a pained whisper. “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head at that. “For what? You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Din took a hold of one of your wrists and guided your hand to the side of his face. As soon as you touched the warmth of his skin, he leaned into your palm, his eyes closing for a moment before he faced you with what felt like tangible despair. “I wanted it to be you.”

He didn’t have to explain it. He had told you enough times over the years for you to know. He had always wanted you to be the first to see him again, and he was intent on making that happen after this quest was over.

You pieced your own shattered heart together and smiled at him. “And here I am.” Your thumb ran over the skin under his eye that had twitched before, and based on the way his eyes welled with tears he no doubt refused to shed, you were able to determine what that tell of his meant. “I’m still seeing you.”

Din’s gaze gave you a nervous once-over. The warmth returned to your body upon getting to see it, rather than having to rely on the movement of his helmet. “What do you think?”

You smiled more and gently set aside his helmet with your free hand. “Can I show you?”

His gaze flickered to your lips before he nodded with another small smile of his own. You rose and took your place upon him, one that was as familiar as his lips were—only this time, it would finally be different. There would be no dent across his nose from the lip of his helmet, and no wrinkles in the skin around your eyes from a cloth pulled tight across them. Instead, it would be you and him, as pure and as perfect as you were meant to be.

You held onto him with all the same desperation he had just shown you, one of your hands cupping the side of his jaw and neck as the other wound itself tight in the hair that flowed freely from his head. Your mouth slotted over his time and time again and with each breath you shared, you intended to pull the darkness from within him, as if you could make a sacrifice as great as his own by taking away all his pain. You tilted his head back further to deepen it, intensifying every feeling until it could overwhelm whatever lies and harsh truths tore at his mind.

You only pulled away from each other when your lungs demanded it, your lips lingering as you relished in the last bit of sweet intoxication you could get. You opened your eyes to see Din’s still closed, as if he too was savoring the moment. His eyes began to flutter open when you ran your nails over the skin of his neck, guiding your hand to his cuirass.

“What did that tell you?” Your voice was breathy from both your lack of air and your sweet desire.

The corner of Din’s mouth rose before he answered in the same tone. “That I made a mistake making you wait this long for me.”

You returned his smile. “You haven’t made a single mistake.” You leaned down to pick his helmet up and tucked it under your arm. “Especially not today.”

Din’s gaze clouded with a brief spell of darkness that faded the moment you lifted your free hand to brush his hair away from his face.

“You’re everything I dreamed of and more, Din.” You kissed his forehead, smiling against his skin when he physically relaxed underneath your touch. When you pulled away, you faced him with sweet severity. “You will always be worth the wait.”

Din smiled, a sight so breathtakingly beautiful you never wanted to let it go—but Din was eager to share in your love again as his hand cupped the back of your neck and pulled you back to him. This time, he was the one who devoured you, his lips remaining on yours while his hands explored places that left you flustered.

You only broke apart when you heard a familiar voice yell from outside the ship. “Hey, kids! I said don’t take long!” Cara’s words made the two of you pull away instantly, and once you were sure she wasn’t looking inside the ship, you laughed with one another. “We’ve got other things to do!”

“We’ll be right out!” You managed to compose your laughter enough to get the words out, and with a deep breath, you fell back into severity. You took the helmet from under your arm and held it between your hands. “You may not be able to do this, but…” you paused and lowered the helmet over Din’s head, “I can do it for you.”

Din rested his helmet against your forehead, his hands holding your wrists to bring your hands to his chest. After a long pause, he spoke with a voice that was strained with meaning. “Thank you.” He gave your wrists a gentle squeeze. “I love you.”

You beamed at him. “I love you, too.” You added a kiss to his visor and sat up more. “I’ll always be here for you, Din. You know that.”

“I do.” Din eased his hands upon your waist and lifted the two of you from the chair. “That’s why I commed you.”

You only smiled wider at his words, your gaze searching the depths of his visor for the brown warmth hidden beneath it as he ran his hand over your back. Not everything was resolved; it was never that easy. Din would be wrestling with this day for a long time. But that wasn’t the point.

The point was that his sacrifice was given even more meaning, and he understood that you saw him in a way that went beyond mere sight. For now, that would be enough, just as he would always be enough for you.

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#i've been wanting to write this one since december 11 2020 #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fic #din djarin angst #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fic #dindjarindiaries

[iamnmbr3]

Draco's Motivations in the Book 7 Room of Requirement Confrontation

I just reread the Fiendfyre sequence and based on a close reading Draco's motivations and actions are a lot more complex and sympathetic than I remembered. Not to mention, once again, here there be drarry.

First, the context:

After the incident at Malfoy Manor, we know from Harry's psychic connection to Voldemort and from the Carrows' overheard discussion that Voldemort's wrath was exceptionally terrible. The Malfoy family became virtual prisoners in their own homes for months and were subjected to especially brutal (even by Voldemort's standards) torture that was also likely quite protracted. Lucius has visible marks on him months later - which, given what we know about magic in that world, really speaks to the level of what has been going on. While he probably got the worst of it, it's certain that none of his family members escaped unscathed. After their other failings they have at this point probably permanently fallen out of favor and have nothing but a (likely short) life of misery to look forward to.

Draco bears a lot of responsibility for this state of affairs since it was he who chose not to identify Harry. This likely adds to his sense of conflict as his conscience tells him one thing and everything he has ever been taught tells him something else. He presumably feels responsible for the suffering his family (we know from book 6 that he does genuinely care about them) has to endure.

Not to mention that he himself is suffering along with them. It would be unsurprising therefore if he felt tempted to "rectify" his earlier moment of what he probably perceived as weakness and made a last ditch attempt to save his parents' (and his own) lives and prestige. While Harry has been taught that love and mercy are noble and valuable impulses, Draco has not. In his world love and mercy are called weakness.

Quite possibly as he suffered and faced death alongside his family, part of him must have felt ashamed of the impulses that led to his choices when Harry was a prisoner at the Manor. Everything he has been taught tells him that Voldemort's victory is inevitable and that his moment of shameful weakness has accomplished nothing except to fail his own family and condemn them (and himself) to a likely short life filled with suffering.

At most what we see in the Room of Requirement is a replay of what we saw on the Astronomy Tower - where Draco is deeply conflicted and when confronted with the reality of violence in support of Voldemort cannot go through with it even under tremendous pressure and even though his failure to carry out these acts of violence will inflict danger and suffering on himself and his loved ones.

But, is that even what actually happens? In my opinion, the answer is "no."

The scene in question:

If we actually look at the text it's not even clear that's what's going on at all. Draco's motives are ambiguous at best here. The scene starts when Harry is stretching out his hand to take the diadem. Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle come up behind him and he is completely unaware of them. Draco then announces their presence, alerting Harry that he is being watched. He could've very easy simply stunned Harry or attempted to put the Imperius Curse on him (or killed him) while his back was turned. But he didn't do any of those things. Instead he talks, thereby ruining the element of surprise.

And that's not typical of Draco at all when he actually wants to attack Harry. He's never beaten Harry in a face-to-face confrontation. (In fact, the last time he tried - in 6th year - he almost ended up dead.) The two times he has managed to incapacitate Harry - when he petrified him on the train in 6th year and when he hid and caught Harry for Umbridge with a tripping jinx in 5th year - he did so by using the element of surprise to his advantage.

Given that Draco knows that Harry is a very formidable opponent (AND that Harry's friends are nearby) if he truly simply wanted to capture or kill him, announcing his presence is the last thing he would ever do. Then he says "That's my wand you're holding." He still doesn't cast any spells - not even to try to disarm Harry. He also doesn't say he wants to hand him over to Voldemort. He doesn't even tell Harry to drop his own wand, attempt to take him prisoner, or even threaten him.

It is Crabbe, not Draco who says "We're gonna be rewarded...We decided to bring you to 'im." Draco doesn't say anything about his own intentions other than that he wants his wand back - and we certainly know that even in 6th year he didn't trust Crabbe and Goyle, much less now, and thus is unlikely to speak openly in front of them. 

At this point Ron comes to investigate and Crabbe tries to use magic to cause a mountain of debris to fall on Ron and crush him. Harry counters the spell and Draco then grabs Crabbe's arm when he tries to repeat the spell. He gives as his justification the need to avoid the diadem being crushed but since we know he doesn't trust Crabbe it's likely this isn't truthful. Especially since Voldemort has not said anything about wanting the diadem (and even if it wasn't a Horcrux it likely wouldn't be damaged in any case).

Crabbe points out this very thing and Draco argues with him at which point Crabbe says "Who cares what you think? I don't take your orders no more, Draco. You an' your dad are finished." So arguably he was not even including Draco in the "We" he imagined would be rewarded. Crabbe then tries to use Crucio on Harry.

Draco then again intervenes and tries to stop him. 

"STOP" Malfoy shouted at Crabbe, his voice echoing through the enormous room. "The Dark Lord wants him alive--"  

He doesn't even just say it. He shouts. We rarely see Draco shout. He is someone who generally keeps his deeper emotions hidden - it's why he's so naturally gifted at Occlumency to the point that he is powerful enough at a young age to lie to both Snape and Voldemort.

What he says here doesn't really even make sense because Goyle isn't even trying to kill Harry; he's just trying to hurt him. However Draco is so distressed by this that he actually starts yelling, something we NEVER see him do at ANY other point in the book. "The Dark Lord wants him alive" is also exactly what Snape says to Bellatrix as they flee in book 6, and we know that Snape's real intent was to protect Harry with a believable excuse. It's the only thing Draco could reasonably say in that moment as a justification. 

Crabbe (rather sensibly) points out that 1) he didn't even try to kill Harry and 2) Voldemort ultimately wants Harry dead so it probably doesn't matter that much. This makes perfect sense. And yet Draco is inordinately concerned with preventing harm to Harry & Co rather than with taking any action to capture or even disarm any of them.

Clearly he did not expect to lose control of Crabbe and Goyle like this and as a result is now losing control of the situation (and himself). (Unlike Harry, Draco is more of a planner and is not as good at reacting in the moment.) Also the possibility that Harry could be killed seems to drive him nearly to the point of hysteria - rather like how Ron reacted to Hermione being in mortal peril at the Manor. This is not just a general aversion to killing. This is something more. He finds the idea of Harry dying truly unbearable. (I don't need my ships to be canon; this one just happens to be.)

At this point they start fighting and Draco loses Narcissa's wand. Wandless, he STILL tries to intervene. Crabbe and Goyle are both aiming their wands at Harry and Draco once again starts yelling -  "Don't kill him! DON'T KILL HIM!" and is obviously in significant distress and is not at all happy with what is going on. 

After that the Fiendfyre gets loose and the rest of the scene goes down without much dialogue.

At NO POINT does Draco 1) actually say he wants to hand Harry to Voldemort OR  2) attempt to attack Harry or Ron or Hermione at all OR 3) use his Dark Mark to call Voldemort OR 4) tell anyone he's seen Harry after they get out of the Room of Requirement - even in a later scene when he's been cornered by a Death Eater who is considering killing him he doesn't reveal this information even though that probably would've proven his loyalty or at the very least distracted the Death Eater.

Conclusions about Draco's motivations:

So, where does that leave us? What went down there and what was Draco trying to do?

We really have 3 options.

Option 1: Draco tried to hand Harry over to Voldemort in order to save himself and his family, got cold feet and couldn't really go through with it, and then lost control of the situation due to Crabbe and Goyle's changing loyalties. 

Verdict: Possible but unlikely given the remarkably bad job he does of it and how inconsistent his approach is with his usual MO. Even if we assume his heart wasn't in it you'd think he'd at least have got as far as disarming Harry before announcing his presence. Especially since Harry almost killed him last time they fought (and Draco probably doesn't know Harry didn't know what the Sectum Sempra curse would do.)

And if his heart WAS in it then then this makes even less sense since he not only didn't attack Harry while his back was turned but also didn't call Voldemort or even inform anyone that he'd seen Harry. 

Option 2:  Draco wanted to get himself captured in a way that looked convincing so that he could take the chance Dumbledore offered in 6th year, only it went quite badly wrong.

Verdict: This would be an interesting possibility but I think it's also unlikely as it's simply too risky. He doesn't know Harry was there on the astronomy tower or that Harry would make the same offer. His family would also likely be murdered if Voldemort realized this had happened.  

Option 3: Draco wanted to cut a deal in order to improve his family's situation without actually handing Harry over - perhaps he hoped for some kind of exchange where he could get his wand back and bring Voldemort the diadem as some kind of consolation prize - but overestimated his control over his cronies and lost control of the situation. 

Verdict: I actually think this works best given his behavior during the scene. He initiates a conversation because he wants information about what and where the diadem is (and what value it would have to Voldemort) and because he wants to make some offer along the lines of 'give me my wand and the diadem and we'll let you go.' This could get him what he wants and help his family without actually harming anyone.

Also it hedges his bets a bit because if Harry wins he will owe Draco. The problem of course is that Crabbe and Goyle aren't happy to just take orders anymore and have their own goals. At that point, instead of caving and going along with what Crabbe and Goyle want to do instead, Draco actually tries to intervene, albeit in a way that doesn't actually expose him as questioning Voldemort.  

Draco made his choice at the Manor. If he wanted to hand Harry over he would have. But he couldn't. He cares about him too much. But he also feels tremendous guilt and fear over the price he and his family are still paying for that decision. This is his attempt to try to fix things - to try to find a middle ground between the conflicting imperatives that are tearing him apart. The reality though, as he shortly discovers, is that there is no middle ground. And when he sees that, once again he chooses Harry.

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