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perdidosbucky-yyo · 28 days

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𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛

Pairing: Exotic Dancer!Bucky Barnes x Plus Size!Reader (no mention of gender or ethnicity)

Summary: Hi, you've reached [your name]. I can't come to the phone right now, please leave a message after the beep!

w/c: 3.7k

warnings: cheating (on reader), lots of cursing, smoking, heavy drinking, weed smoking, body image issues (I'm sorry), this is a smutty fic (but there’s no smut), dry humping. Please let me know if I missed anything <3

a/n: This is the first fic I've posted in years lmao, I'm a bit rusty, but omfg I enjoyed writing this so much, it's very self-indulgent hehe I hope you love it just as much as I do.

this is not beta'd, any and all mistakes are my own.

Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply encouraged🥺

7:51 PM

“Baby please, You know I’m an idiot…she means nothing” Jake whined through the phone.

As of 5 hours ago, he became your ex but kept on calling you, each call pleading for your forgiveness and saying the same stupid excuse “I felt you pulling away, what was I supp-”

Before you could interrupt him yourself, your best friend and roommate took your phone “Listen closely you little shit, if you don’t stop calling I’ll personally chop off your balls, fry’em up and feed them to your mother in a fucking salad… it’s Wanda by the way” she huffs as she hands you back the phone, “Colorful” you grimace.

Shoving you inside the car, with you and Wanda on the back, Bruce behind the wheel and Tony as co-pilot, “Why do you even answer his calls?” Tony asks while Wanda lights up a Marlboro, and gives you a drag “Because I want to tell him to go fuck himself… I- I just can’t seem to find the right words”, “That seems right” Wanda quips and you roll your eyes, “Don’t worry you’ll find the words when the time’s right” Bruce adds, “Dr. Banner is right, tonight is all about getting shit-faced” Tony adds.

You all clap and turn up the volume to the perfect song “I don’t wanna hear, I don’t wanna know” Wanda sings, the wind on her face, while Bruce shouts “WE LOVE YOU MADONNA”.

They were right, fuck Jack, tonight you wanted to let go, you weren’t one for parties or clubbing but you couldn’t stay at home feeling sorry for yourself, partying with your friends seemed like the perfect distraction “LET’S FUCKING GO” you shouted at the top of your lungs.

9:05 PM

“The Hush-Hush Hideaway?” you laughed as you finished your first beer after two cherry vodka shots, sounds like a place where 50 year olds would come to have an affair, “Alright, alright before you keep on talking trash, there is more eye to meet” Tony argues, to that Wanda snorts “are you seriously drunk right now? after three piña coladas?”, Bruce laughs “they’re stronger than they look” Tony defends himself as he stands up, signaling you all to head to the dance floor.

You honestly loved the place, the lighting was incredible, the atmosphere was hot pink with hints of dark red and deep purple, the ceiling was decorated with hundreds of disco balls shining down on you, the bar had tables so crystalline and so red, it looked like solidified blood, each one surrounded by the comfiest leather couches. There was also the dance floor which you were dancing on now, it had the perfect stage for dancers or any kind of show, the whole place had the perfect mix of chic and urban.

10:39 PM

“This round’s on me” Tony shouts over the loud music as he hands you what would probably be your 5th drink, stumbling around as you danced to a song that suddenly became your favorite, as you downed the liquid gold you took Tony’s hand and started giving him a lap dance of some sorts which made everyone laugh along with you.

And then everything went pitch black, for 5 seconds the music was over, lights were out, for a moment you thought you passed out but then a huge white light shone straight into the middle of the stage, “Girls Gays and Theys!” a deep voice over the microphone started, “is this a gay bar?” Bruce genuinely chimed in, making you giggle.

“Tonight we encourage you to let that wild side of yours out! Please give a warm welcome to The White Wolf” the voice cheered with excitement and the crowd roared and cheered back, “he must be really good looking” you sassed, and in that moment, red ropes descended.

Not a second later a man dressed in a kevlar suit swirled down as if swimming in the red fabric, wrapping himself in a cocoon in the air so the next second he rolled down to the stage, the top of his leathery suit gone, leaving his gorgeous toned abdomen exposed making the crowd go wild. The lights enhanced his beautiful body. “D-does he have glitter on?!” Tony shouted in awe, everyone absolutely going crazy over this tall, brown-haired, thick oh so fucking thick specimen.

On the other hand, you were finding breathing a difficult task, especially because his eyes were trained on yours, maybe it was the several drinks in your system or the empowering song that heightened everything, but his stare was intense, the ice blue of his eyes chilled your spine and for a moment you thought he was going to stop the show, come down and rip your clothes off… yeah you definitely felt tipsy now.

This man knew the power he held, not only was he drop-dead gorgeous, he had autonomy of every nerve and every muscle on his body, your heart and pussy were practically pulsing as you watched him dance. The magic was broken when you felt your phone ring in your pocket, taking it out, you saw it was Jake calling AGAIN, you knew your friends would tell you not to pick up, but part of you wanted to hear him out and scream at him, you didn’t know which one you were going to do.

Leaving the dance floor and heading to the bathrooms where you hoped it’d be quieter, you swipe to the green bubble “Please please forgive me” is the first thing the man says, making you sigh in frustration “S-top stop saying you’re sorry” but it’s like talking to a wall, you’re not even sure he heard you because he just keeps on whining.

??:??

You don’t know how much time you spent listening to him in the bathroom but eventually, you give up and hang up on him, splashing some fresh water in your neck you exit the room and bump into a rock-hard wall, but then unexpectedly the wall starts talking and you think maybe it’s not a wall.

“it was rude to bail” a grave voice rumbles in your ear through all of the noise, looking up you see it’s the white wolf, making you almost choke on air, but you were quick enough to react and raise an eyebrow in response “sorry?”.

Without even noticing, the man had cornered you into a wall “Don’t apologize, you can make it up to me” he said with a wild smile, “oh he’s good” you thought, then he looked at you as if he read your mind, “you look like someone in desperate need to have some fun… let me give you a hand” he whispered, his confidence made you forget he was a stranger, and oddly enough it felt like you knew him perfectly, the thought of spending your night with him made you shudder.

Taking out what looked like a big fat blunt from one of his pockets, he dragged the little bundle of joy from your exposed thighs, up your arms, slowly passing through your neck, and finally grazing your soft lips, his eyes never once leaving yours, he leaned in and the smell of cedarwood with a touch of french vanilla made your eyes roll.

Man, you’re really not keeping your cool, but he’s too beautiful for you to care, you might as well pucker your lips, but then he backs away, taking your hand and leading you to the backdoor between the kitchens. The sound of music and people dancing start to disappear until it’s muffled, “are we allowed in here?” you laugh as he lights up the joint and takes a big gulp, your heart pounds with excitement, this is exactly what you needed.

Your inner demons whispered that he really wasn’t interested in you, he looked like he was sculptured by frigging Michelangelo, he’d never want to be with someone as big as you, plus you felt sweaty from dancing most of the night, but honestly, it was more about the nerves you felt around him, but just as easy as the negative thoughts came, he batted them away with a single kiss to your cheek, near enough to the corner of your lips “lost you there for a sec” he teased.

As he handed you the joint, you took it with hesitance, “I usually don’t take marihuana from strangers, you got a name or does everyone call you the white wolf?” you teased, carefully eyeing him, realizing that he was still shirtless unconsciously making you bite your lip.

A lazy smile spread on his face “Waddaya mean you don’t know me? Pfft I’m your latest conquest”, it threw you off but he looked so sincere it made the butterflies in your stomach dance, “I’m Bucky” he laughed, he was so at ease with that pretty smile you couldn’t do anything but swoon.

Taking a drag of the blunt you breathe out the smoke through your nose as you offer him your name in return, not wasting a second he repeats it, slowly, maybe he was high but it seemed as though he enjoyed the sound of your name on his tongue, he savored it, your legs pressed against each other and you had to take another drag so not to seem desperate as you were for him.

He might be a stranger but deep down you felt unbelievable attraction, in less than 10 minutes of knowing him he made you feel powerful, and free, like maybe in a past life or somethin’ he was your soulmate… Pfft, you wanted to crack up at your own thoughts, somehow Bucky knew and started laughing, slowly leaning into you and crashing his lips with yours, it was sloppy but fuck you’d never been kissed like that, it was passionate, you felt wanted, right then and there you were ready and willing to let him swoop you off your feet.

12:59 AM

Bucky was showing you his best moves, his calloused hands gripped and groped your body as you both swayed your hips against each other perfectly in sync.

He was so smooth, the fogginess of the joint rumbled through your body, each touch, every one of his strokes felt like a wave, you were floating in a sea of music and his scent, nothing was wrong with the world, nothing could harm you because he was right behind you, worshipping you, telling you how he loved the feel of every roll and every curve, you couldn’t help but smile and he couldn’t help but kiss that beautiful smile.

Not long after your friends found you and you introduced them to the dancer who blew their minds, some of his friends joined you, and not long after you were the life of the party, shots and blunts came pouring, and just like you wanted you became one with bucky, you didn’t know where you began or where he ended, pain and misery were a strange and unknown concept tonight.

1:55 AM

Wanda had to drag you away from Bucky to chat with you a bit, she couldn’t hide that grin even if she tried “Dude I don’t even recognize you right now” you laugh with her knowing very well what she means, squeezing her wrist you stop the urge to squeal, “I don’t know how this happened but fuck he’s just so pretty I wanna cry” you both giggle, understanding the Rachel Green reference.

Turning to see Bucky you caught him already watching you, it looked like he was chatting with his friends but he wouldn’t look away from you, you realized he was waiting for you, and honestly you were eager to return to his embrace and intoxicating scent “Fuck Jack, you have men waiting in line” Wanda practically shouts as she pushes you back to the dance floor.

2:12 AM

After a while your social battery was low and you needed a break, so now you leaned against the wall in the back alley of the bar, a cigarette lit, resting on your fingertips as you recalled the events that brought you here tonight.

You didn’t blame Wanda for reminding you of Jake and what he did, after all, she was just hyping you, but now your mind was plagued, you memorized with detail how you found them, as some sort of self-punishment, why? you didn’t know, after years of therapy, you were still trying to unlearn self-deprecating thoughts that your family and society shoved in your face.

Jake cheating on you with a leggy blonde who was quite literally a Victoria's Secret model was a kick to your stomach, it made you realize that maybe every bad thought you had about yourself was true, and that was terrifying…

Realizing that the cigarette burned itself out, you stepped on it, but before you could come back inside Bucky opened the door and grinned “There you are, was worried I spooked ya”, to that you chuckled, somehow the laws of social battery didn’t apply to the handsome trapeze dancer “Never”.

Stepping outside and standing next to you, he takes your hand and starts playing with your fingers “What’s got my sweet doll so down?”, you expected the pet name to make you cringe but instead swooned. Lighting another cigarette you take a drag and blow it on his face, and he just bites the smoke, making you giggle, after a beat of silence you show him your heart.

“About… 11 hours ago, my boyfriend, now ex-boyfriend, cheated on me” you sigh, trying with all your might not to shed a single fucking tear, Jake didn’t deserve them, “Gimme his address” he deadpans, a look so deadly in his eyes, that spark was almost snuffed, but just as quickly his attitude changed, “I’ll kill 'im with my bare hands, I’LL FUCKING KILL ’IM” he shouts with foux determination, making wild animal noises that are making you laugh so hard you can’t breathe “you’re not funny” you say out of breath.

His thumb cleans away a single runaway tear, his touch is so gentle at first you’re not even sure he’s holding you, he’s so close you feel his breath on your cheek and his nose caressing your skin oh so lightly, “you’re dreaming”, you think incredulously.

In a second his touch becomes rough as he grips your face with both his hands, holding you still so you can’t look anywhere but his eyes, “he’s a fucking moron” he spits out, almost insulted, “and I don’t mean a jerk or plain stupid, I mean he’s missing some fucking brain cells to let go of someone so insanely beautiful as you”.

Your heart’s pounding in your ears, you’re about to explain but he cuts you off “And I don’t even need to know him, to be sure of what I’m telling you right now” he scoffs, “Hell, I don’t even have to know you to be sure, in the very short time I’ve known you, you’ve been everything” bucky almost can’t believe he’s saying this to you, suddenly the tension is palpable and neither of you can breathe…

“You’re driving me insane” is the last thing he says before pushing you against the wall, with a grunt he grips your waist and your lips crash with his, in a fight for dominance your tongues swirl, it’s as if Jake or any other man never existed, washed away by the ocean that is Bucky.

You loved how vocal he was being, he moaned into the kiss as you practically humped him, he bit your swollen lips as a warning to slow down but it only turned you on more. You could feel your hardened nipples rub against his chest, and it drove both of you nuts, with all his strength he pulled away, leaving you dizzy and pulling him for more, he’s never wanted anyone the way he wants you but he would never have sex with someone so drunk, even if that person begged as nicely as you were right now.

He laughs as you start leaving hot open kisses throughout his neck and jaw purring like a cat, “Bucky please” you mewled, asking him for more, his hand flew to grasp your hair in a tight grip, nibbling on your skin as he reached your ear “We aren’t doing anything except kissing the fuck out of each other doll” he whispered.

You made for a grab to his groin but he was able to take your hand and hold it above your head “I want you nice and sober when I get you to cream on my cock”, he groans as you make a final attempt to lure him in, but you know he’s right, so you huff in defeat, a pout on display to make your feelings known, “baby doll what’s wrong? you look flushed” he teases as you gasp in faux offense.

3:45 AM

The bar kicked everyone out but you still had some party left in you and apparently, so did Bucky because he’s already got you piggyback riding him to his car, you said goodbye to your friends assuring them you trusted Bucky, his place was less than 10 minutes away and you’d send them your location.

Once you got to the car Bucky stopped in his tracks, “we’re drunk and high as hell” he stated, and like a bucket of iced water you realized he was right “Accurate statement” you snort, carefully dropping you on the ground he swiftly turned to face you “so we should… perhaps, maybe take a cab” he goofs around as he steals small kisses form you “or we can walk? your place’s near right?” you reply, everyone was already gone to ask for a ride but he liked the idea of having some alone time with you, so, he picked you up and placed you on his back “To the Batcave!” he runs as you hold onto him as tight as you could.

4:05 AM

You peacefully walked on the side of the street as cars passed by, one thing that you loved about walking at night was the lack of noise, the night wasn’t completely quiet, you could still hear the cars in the distance, people coming in and out of bars or whatever, the breeze was the perfect temperature and the city lights of New York were shone beautifully.

Hand in hand you walked with your latest conquest as he so eloquently put it, conversation flowing, “I got cheated on once, it fucking sucks” You both laughed at the obvious statement “I thought we were going steady and she got bored” he shrugged, “it was a while ago, but it definitely messed with my head” he whispered as he squeezed your hand, it brought him comfort and you as well.

“You know what’s fucking hilarious though? I was planning on breaking up with him…ok don’t judge me” you laughed, “but I just stayed with him because it was easier to stay in a mediocre relationship than actually fight for my happiness…plus he had a hot tub” you felt stupid for saying it, but he didn’t judge you, his face remained the same, attentive.

Bucky took your hand and kissed each one of your knuckles “I got a really nice bathtub” he murmured into your skin with a smirk, your heart fluttered to what he implied so you jumped and kissed his cheek, holding onto his arm for dear life, content with how the day turned out.

4:38 AM

After smoking yet another joint together you were now straddling your dancer’s lap on his bathtub “It really is a nice bathtub” You grinned between kisses and he laughed, his hands roaming your soft skin under your clothes, you were heaven on earth he kept thinking, he was about to kiss you again but was interrupted by your phone ringing, which made both of you sigh in frustration.

You knew who it was, Jake had been calling over and over for the last 20 minutes and Bucky had enough of the bastard, “Answer him” he ordered, to which you raised an eyebrow “I- can’t I- seriously?” you say almost shocked “You know what you wanna say to him, so say it” he encouraged with a soft smile.

Without thinking twice you pick up, “Finally! what took you so long to pick up?” Jake barks, you have the phone on speaker so Bucky could listen, and he already hated how the jerk talked to you, making him grip your waist with possessiveness.

“What do you want?” you ask almost uninterested, “Baby please forgive me” he cries as if you could ever believe anything he said to you, “I’m so so fucking sorry, what else do you want me to say?!”, to that you let out an unamused laugh “just stop fucking saying you’re sorry, time to put on your big boy pants and take responsibility” you snark, which oddly, turns on bucky beyond belief.

Like a magnet, his lips start leaving love bites on your neck, making you gulp, “Babe let’s be honest, in a month you’ll be begging me to get back together, we both know you need someone to take care of you, you can’t be alone, you need me” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and then you really were done with his bullshit.

“Listen closely you fucktard, stop saying you’re sorry, stop begging me to forgive you, you were a waste of my time and the only reason I didn’t break up with you sooner was because it was convenient for me to stay with your sorry ass” you bark.

You could keep going but now Bucky was humming against your pulse, finding it incredibly hot how you stood up for yourself, he peppered you with hot open kisses that made your mind even fuzzier than the weed, “And I can take care of myself ass” you hiss in delight, it was meant to be an insult but Bucky was making you feel so good…

“Fucking drop that call”, bucky growled into your neck loud enough to be heard over the phone, then sunk his teeth into your soft skin, making you moan, unintentionally into the phone, before dropping it and gripping Bucky’s hair for support as you rubbed against the bulge on his pants “Fuck I can’t wait to make you mine” he moaned, dreaming of all the possibilities, of everything he wanted to do with and to you.

Despite the chills you felt down your spine, despite feeling exactly the same way, you laugh, “Honey… do you think it’s gonna be that easy?” you coo, drunk in power, you devour his perfect pink lips.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #exoticdancer!bucky #stripper!bucky #sebastian stan #carrot's harvest #Spotify

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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authorred · 2 months

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Doctor's Orders | Part 2 | Li Shen/Zayne x fem!Reader | Love and Deepspace

Preface: With you hospitalized and in critical condition, Zayne has taken it upon himself to ensure you are nursed back to health. Under no circumstance are you allowed to do close to anything on your own.

Part 2 of my self indulgence because why not I love this man he's so sweet???????

Part 1 Part 3 (coming soon)

Warning(s): None

Your eyelids feel like lead when you try to open them. It takes a strenuous amount of effort to move them, and your body overall feels like it’s being weighed down by anchors. You can hear the steady beeping from next to you, just barely; white floods behind your eyes the more you rouse into consciousness. You can barely move your arms and legs, let alone your head, or even your eyes. It’s the beeping of the machine that keeps you awake enough. Soon, you force your eyes open, and you’re immediately blinded by the sterility of the room.

“What. . . ?” It comes off as a soft inquiry, unheard by everyone. You’re a little disoriented, and you don’t remember how you got to where you are. You feel something on your face, covering your nose. After thinking about it for a little, you figured it’s an oxygen supplier of some kind. Did you become that hypoxic that you need oxygen? You won’t know until you talk to a doctor.

A doctor.

Your doctor.

Oh god, your doctor. Zayne.

Zayne is going to kill you.

There’s no way he doesn’t know—and if he didn’t, there’s no way he hasn’t asked to take over as your attending physician during your stay. Even though you know he’s not in the room with you, the mere thought of it is enough to send your eyes flying open. You attempt to sit up—and your body quite literally burns like the fiery depths of hell. It hurts you, and you’re stiff and sore and covered in bandages, and you think there’s a hole in your chest, but you don’t care; you fight through it.

“Don’t sit up. You’ll tear open the stitches.”

You freeze at the low timbre of a familiar voice. It’s soft as it always is when speaking to you, but you can’t help but avoid looking at the owner of it.

“Lay back down. You’ll need more rest than usual.” A hand meets your shoulder and gently pushes you back down onto the mattress—and you follow it without a word.

Your eyes don’t meet his, “I didn’t—. . . okay. I won’t move.” For a moment it’s silent and you can feel him staring down at you. You know he’s frustrated, sad, angry even. Maybe all three. You know he wants to say something, perhaps scold and lecture you about overworking yourself. You’re waiting for the inevitable but it never comes. You nervously look up at him and he’s not looking at you either.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is hoarse from exhaustion, “I didn’t mean for this to happen. The Wanderer just appeared in my complex, and. . . I was the only Hunter there.”

Zayne looks at you, “I understand. I heard of what happened. You did what you had to do to protect the people there. There were minimal injured because of you.”

“That. . . I mean, I’m glad, but. . . I feel like you’re disappointed in me.”

Zayne stares at you for a moment before sighing softly, “I’m not disappointed in you. It wasn’t your fault that you were forced into that situation. I’m only glad you were admitted when you were.”

“Be honest: how close was I to dying?”

Zayne hesitates to answer ever so slightly, “. . . Too close. Your heart stopped. You were severely hypoxic and in respiratory failure, your tissues weren’t getting adequate oxygen, and you experienced severe blood loss due to a puncture wound to your chest that barely missed your aorta.”

You don’t visibly react when you hear his explanation. “I see. I don’t remember any of that. The last thing I remember was the Wanderer coming at me. After that, it’s nothing.”

“Your body and mind were under an exorbitant amount of stress. Especially your heart. You were only at thirty-seven percent function.”

“I’m assuming that means my heart was at a risk of stopping at any time.”

“That’s correct.”

“Great,” you snicker but there’s not a shred of joy behind it. “And now I’m stuck here for weeks and maybe months.”

"Correct."

You stare up at the ceiling and don't give a response. You couldn't even if you wanted to. What were you supposed to do until you were discharged and cleared? You can't stay still—your mind is always moving, constantly running. If you don't get that energy out somehow, you'll go mad. You can't stay cooped up in the hospital. Zayne knows that too, and you hate that.

"Don't think about sneaking out like you have in the past," he says. "You've been put down as a flight risk in your chart."

You roll your eyes, "That was only once, and I only had a wrist fracture."

"You fell from a twenty-storey building and landed on the roof of a car. You're lucky that a broken wrist is all you walked away with." His voice is calm but the way he delivers it gives off agitation. You've heard the tone before—he usually gives you it when he's worried or concerned.

"Maybe." You toy with the sheets pulled up to your waist, "I just. . . I don't know why I'm like this."

Zayne places his hands in his coat pockets and turns his body, so all his attention is on you.

"I can't sit still. I get unnerved. Like I'm meant to be doing something. That's why I keep going on missions. I can sleep, but all I dream about is fighting wanderers. Even on my days off I'm wondering when an attack is going to happen."

Zayne stays quiet, only adjusting his glasses. He understands what you're saying. In a way, he's the same. He can enjoy his off time too, as little as it comes, but sometimes he wonders how the hospital is without him on the clock. "I understand. It's difficult to regulate yourself when you're constantly working. Your mind has no idea what to do when it's quiet."

"It really doesn't. And it's pathetic, because then it ends up like this and I feel like a child who can't do anything for themself."

Without a word, Zayne sits down on the edge of the bed—gently, to not upset your wounds. He's conflicted as to whether he should look at you or not. Instead, he settles on your IV pole. "It's not a crime to be taken care of sometimes. If you're hurt, that's a doctor's job. That's my job."

"Of course it is, you're a doctor," you snort softly. "If you weren't. . ."

"Even if I wasn't, I'd still take care of you."

You look over at him in silent surprise. He's not looking at you but he's never one to be dishonest. For whatever reason, you believe him when he says that. You don't know how you feel about that—a part of you wants to lean into it, but another part of you want to push against it and him. He's already under so much stress ensuring his patients are alive and as healthy as they can be. How selfish would that make you if you wanted that from him too? "Even though I constantly do things to get myself hospitalized?"

He nods softly, "Yes."

"Even though I could randomly keel over and die someday because of my heart?"

His eyes move to look at yours, a somber look in them. "Yes. Even that."

"I see." You look back up to the ceiling. "How is. . . will this affect the amount of evol I'll be able to use?"

"I don't believe this is the most opportune time to discuss this. You should rest and gain more energy."

You sigh softly, "Okay. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Zayne stands from the bed, "Please call a nurse if you need anything. I'll be back to check on you soon."

You nod, "I won't be going anywhere anytime soon."

Zayne's lips curl up ever so slightly—if you weren't so accustomed to how he is, you would've missed it. "I'm glad. It would cause a lot of trouble if you did."

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iovesia · 7 months

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❛⠀SEEING DOUBLES.

kinktober 2023. — entry three.

synopsis. don't answer the door, don't leave the house, don't pick up the phone, but most of all, don't scream.

✶⠀ ׅ⠀ ࣪⠀warnings. ghostface!john wick 𝑥 f!reader 𝑥 ghostface!john constantine — threesome. breaking and entering. extremely dubious consent. non con elements. use of knives. oral (m receiving). reader's hair can be grabbed.

josie's little note .. ignore the fact that this is a month late.. i'm so sorry y'all. i hate writing threesomes, so probs my last time doing it LMAO but i hope you guys enjoy !!

YOU WERE HOME ALONE.

How cliché.

The muffled sound of the ads on tv filled the eerie silence in your house. You laid comfortably on your couch, flicking through your newest edition of 'Seventeen’ magazine. Your roomates were out for a night in the city, leaving your recluse self to enjoy proper solitude for once.

The landline snaps you from your reading as the obnoxious ring echoes through your desolate house. You groan annoyedly, tossing your magazine to the side as you lazily stroll to the kitchen.

“Who the hell is calling me now?” you huff.

Taking the white phone off the wall, you put it to your ear, gently toying with the phone cord.

“Hello?” You sigh, a tinge of annoyance in your voice. The hoarse breathing on the other end makes you quirk your brow. “Uh… hellloooo?”

The voice breathes hoarsely before clearing its throat, then a gravely melody follows. “Hello.”

A long silence fills the phone line. A sudden crackle of the popcorn cooking on the pan snaps you into conversation. “Who is this?”

“Who’s this?” The gravelly voice repeats my words back.

“You called me, man,” you roll your eyes, resting your head against the wall. The raspy voice just breathes quietly on the other line, slowly ticking you off. A second wave of silence washes over this dry exchange. “Okay, then…”

You hang up the phone. Just as you turn away, the damn landline starts ringing violently again. With another groan, you harshly grab the landline. “Hello?” Your tone switched 180, getting more irritated the longer you’re away from rotting on the couch with your magazine.

“What’re you up to?” The same raspy voice chuckles softly. You squint your eyes, raising a brow as an incredulous laugh escapes your throat.

“Is this your pickup line? Calling random strangers and asking what they’re up to?” You retort, holding the landline with your shoulder as you walk further into the kitchen and rummage through some snacks.

“Aw, I wouldn’t say we’re strangers,” the unknown man replies with faux-hurt in his voice. Resisting to roll the eyes out of your skull, you hum in response. You take out a small packet of popcorn.

“Oh yeah? You don’t even know my name,” you scoff, using your teeth to rip the plastic wrap before carelessly tossing the popcorn package into the microwave.

“I’d like to,” the raspy voice teases, and you can envision the cheeky grin. The gravely stranger finally manages to weasel out a weak laugh from you.

“Is that so?”

“Don’t be a tease.. How about we play a game for it?” The voice offers. Now you were intrigued. The microwave beeps in the background as you rest against your marble countertop. There’s a pregnant pause before you shrug.

“Fine, what the hell,” you indulge this stranger. “What game?”

“20 questions. Think of someone, and I’ll guess.”

A snort and giggle comes through your nose. Jesus, how old is he?

You take a brief glance out your kitchen window, eyeing the empty garden and illuminated pool in your backyard. You roll your shoulders back, elbow resting on the countertop. There’s quiet breathing on the other end again before it coughs.

“Ew,” you whisper at the sound of the hacking cough.

“Are they a woman?” The voice murmurs in your ear.

“Yeah,” you smirk. Trying to screw with this guy a little, you think of yourself, knowing this random stranger would never get it.

“Are they famous?”

“I wish,” you snicker, enjoying your own little inside joke. Your childish snickers suddenly died at this mysterious stranger’s next words.

“Do they like to read girly Seventeen magazines, like the one on your couch?”

Beep. Beep. Your popcorn finished snapping in your microwave.

The landline nearly fell from your hand as you froze. You felt your chest tighten, and you furrow your brows in confusion. “What did you say?” Your voice drops to a mere whisper, the colour draining from your face. Goosebumps swim on your skin, and out the corner of your eye, you glance back at the living room.

The magazine was gone.

“I’m more of a Playboy guy myself,” The voice continues, completely ignoring your worried tone. “Maybe I’ll see you on the cover one day,” he teases.

“This isn’t funny, asshole!” You blurt angrily, but the voice cracks alert him of your fear. Your mystery caller simply laughs at your cursing, his voice sounding more ominous than playful by the second.

“At least now we’re not strangers anymore.”

“I’m calling the cops,” the threat is empty, but you hope to strike fear into this (hopefully) prank-caller. Your bare feet pad against the wooden floor, rushing to the front door and checking the locks.

“Aw, but I still have 16 questions left..” the voice pouts mockingly.

“Fuck you,” you spit, hanging up the phone with a trembling hand. The sound of your shaky breath fills the vacant home. Crickets chirping out the window fail to ease your nerves as they set in your unfortunate reality.

You’re home alone.

Immediately, you rush to your porch to make sure the door’s lock and immediately come to see a dark figure standing by your lit pool. A bloodcurdling scream erupts from your throat at the sight, and you stumble over your feet to lock the glass sliding door.

The light of the pool barely illuminated the figure’s face— a mask. The pale white mask, with a long mouth, and big blacked out eyes. His silhouette was concealed by the long black cloak.. Like a babadook. The face of a ghost. The unknown stranger lifts his hand up, revealing a small black flip phone. He waves it mockingly before holding it to his ear.

Ring. Ring.

Your landline rings again, unbreaking your eye contact with the looming stranger in your backyard. Cautiously and carefully stepping back from the glass door, you reach for the phone once again.

“H—”

“Hang up on me again and I’ll gut you like a fish,” this time the voice was at least 4 octaves lower, and growled at you. Your lower lip trembled, as your eyes stung with tears.

“W-What do you want?” You whisper, swallowing a lump in your throat.

“Next question..” the voice pauses. “Does she have an unlocked backdoor?”

Suddenly, a booming crack of wood followed by the sound of shattering glass echoed in the back of the home. Another weak squeal leaves your lips when you instinctively turn your head to the hallway, seeing a broken vase on the ground. When you turn your head back to the porch, and scream again when the stranger is pressed up against the glass door. His mask now flashing in all its plastic glory.

“Let me in, baby..” his disgusting pet name only makes you whimper. Your big eyes well up with fearful tears and you quake right where you're standing.

“Go away.. Please go away..” you sob.

His black gloved hand pressed against the glass, his index finger tapping in a rhythm against the transparent door. Your brows furrowed in confusion, more sobs falling from your quivering lips.

A breath hits your neck.

You watch as the stranger pressed against the door starts laughing, his head lolling back and his ominous laughter rings in your ear. Turning around painfully slowly, the landline falls from your hand, smashing to the ground.

Any sound dies in your throat, jaw dropping when you crane your neck up to a twin of your intruder on the porch. With the same jarring ghostface mask, and long black cloak, the second stranger tilts his head to the side.

Your wobbling legs only take you so far back away from the nightmarish figure, a pair of arms wrapped around your waist. Held in his vice grip, you instinctively start kicking and sobbing desperately, accidentally (yet successful) managing to shove your foot into the groin of the second intruder.

He lets out a sharp groan, barely bending in pain as the first intruder continues holding you in his tight grip. He’s unrelenting in his hold and damn near picks you off the ground, as if you were a sack of flour.

“Oh, now you’re gonna get it.”

The once comforting feel of your living room carpet felt like smaller daggers as the broken glass of your porch door dug into your knees. The two matching intruders towered over you, the shorter one holds a tight grip on your hair, while his blade rests under your chin.

“Please—” Your begs were silenced when the blade pressed against your delicate skin, a small slice stinging your neck. The taller masked figure’s scratchy gloved fingers stroke the side of your tear covered face.

“Question 15... is she a pretty crier?” the slightly shorter ghostfaced figure tugs your hair, making you whimper.

“Enough, Constantine,” the other chimes in. His voice much lower than his partner in crime’s— a baritone, authoritative sound that did nothing to soothe your fears. It’s clear the accomplice with a death grip on your scalp was the one on the phone, his husky voice that was a melody to your ears, had this been under any other circumstance.

“I thought we said no names, Wick.”

Constantine and Wick. You finally matched names to the two psychos.

“It’s not like she’ll be alive to remember them.”

The two go back and forth, their argument silenced when “John” grabs the bottom of his plastic mask, and whips it off his face. Your lips part slightly, eyes widened at the sight. An older man, mid 40s at most. His short black beard decorated across his lower face, and his piercing black eyes piercing down at your trembling figure. His calloused hand reached for your chin, redirecting your head side to side, as if you were cattle being inspected.

“She’s pretty,” he hums, almost sounding impressed. This older man speaks as if you’re not even forcibly knelt down before him. The other man, who you now know to be Constantine, tugs your hair once again and this time makes you gasp sharply.

“Ow—”

“Be quiet,” Constantine hisses, the blade pressing an millimetre deeper, releasing a few droplets onto your tight t-shirt. The cool metal shifts from under your neck, and now presses against your cheek, a faint crimson line staining your face.

“Please just let me go. I won’t say anything!” your voice is shaking, as you desperately plead with the two burglars. “Take whatever you want! I won’t say anything! I promise!”

A pregnant pause fills the air, and the two men share a sly glance. The sinister look in their matching dark irises only made you squirm more. Like a mouse caught under the sharp metal trap.

“Anything we want?” Wick raises a brow, his monotonous tone barely masks the innuendo in his words. The older man nods to Constantine, and your second assailant finally reveals himself, taking off his own ghost mask.

Constantine was presumably a few years younger than Wick, lacking in the facial hair department with only a 5 o’clock shadow, but it defined his sharp jawline more. He almost mimicked Wick to a T.

The sinister look in their matching dark irises only made you squirm more.

“I think you need to apologise for your little tantrum earlier,” Constantine taunts, his tug on your hair, forcing you to crane your neck fully upwards to Wick. Horror hits you like a bucket of ice water when Wick’s large hand slowly rubs over his clothed groin. “Maybe you should kiss it better—”

“Fuck you!” You blurt out, absolutely appalled at the suggestion from these two devilish older men. Another pathetic whimper echoes from you as Constantine, still death gripping your hair, shoves your face against the rough felt material of his cloak. The sadistic asshole only chuckles at your whimpers whereas Wick remained stoic, and unreadable.

“You can either make it up to my friend here,” Constantine’s taunting tone shifts to menacing, “or we’ll find out what your insides look like with this little thing,” he pats the cold blade on your each with each word.

A bead of sweat rolls down your face, mixing in with your salty tears. The hiccups and measly cries release from your frozen figure. Helplessly you watch as Wick rolls his cloak up to his hips, the sharp sound of the belt unbuckling jumps your heartbeat.

“Just one little kiss..” Constantine coos with mockery, his hand finally loosening ever so slightly. Wick’s eyes betray his stone demeanour when you notice a cruel glint in his iris. Biles builds in your throat at the ominous zip of his jeans opening.

Your eyes grew in disbelief when Wick actually took his cock out from under his pants. His cock was flushed, and already hardening. A thick vein ran from the bottom of his thick shaft all the way up to his pink mushroom tip that leaked pre-cum. You look up at him tearfully, almost begging for mercy, only for him to shoot it down by tapping his large dick against your cheek and lips.

“You know what to do..” Wick finally speaks, his baritone voice was soft on your ears. The salty pre-cum made you grimace as Wick pressed his tip against your plump lips, slowly penetrating your mouth. You let out a loud gag and couch, your lips fully stretched around Wick’s cock, and his tip almost hitting the back of your throat.

Constantine’s hand grips your hair tightly again, guiding your harsh movements like a ragdoll. He tugs you back and forth on the older man’s cock, before suddenly forcing your nose against Wick’s short pubes, his shaft fully lodged in your throat.

Guttural moans fall from Wick’s lips, as he clenches his cloak tight, his knuckles widening. You struggle to breathe as you gag on the intrusion in your mouth. Your fingernails found their way to Wick’s thighs, pinching through his jeans. Constantine holds you in this position, until your eyes begin to roll backwards.

“She’s already crying...” Constantine scoffs when he tugs you back. A thick string of spit and saliva connects from your puffy lips to Wick’s glistening cock. You cough harshly, as your throat already begins to ache, and globs of spit dribble down your chin.

“I think you can do better than that..” Wick purrs, his large hand grips your jaw, before gently patting your cheek. You hiccup on your spit, eyes fully blurred with tears when Wick presses the tip of his cock back onto your lips. You flatten your tongue against the underside of Wick’s shaft, taking kitten licks to stall time. Swirling your tongue around his tip, tasting his pre-cum once again, you elicit another husky groan from Wick.

Meanwhile Constantine’s hands venture down from your hair and lower on your body as he kneels behind you, his gloved fingers meticulously feeling each bump of your spine before reaching the swell of your ass. His hot breath hits the back of your neck, and his intruding fingers slide in between your legs, over your silk pajamas shorts.

You squeal suddenly, turning your head to look over your shoulder. Wick grabs your hair once again, focusing your attention back on him, his dick promptly thrusted right back in your mouth.

“I think she’s enjoying this,” Constantine’s chuckles darkly, his thick fingers sliding under your flimsy shorts, feeling the damp spot on your panties with his digits. He presses hard on your bundle of nerves, and a girly whimper is muffled by Wick’s intrusion. Your toes curl, and your hips involuntarily buck when Constantine’s digits move in a slow circle.

“So pretty with my cock in her mouth..” Wick says with a smug smile on his lips, his hand pushing your head aggressively. Your head bobs up and down Wick’s thick cock, your throat sore and your jaw aching as you cling to the fat of his thighs for support.

“She does fucking like it. What a dirty little girl..” Constantine’s slippery fingers managed to hook your panties to the side, your juices coating his digits and only making him laugh cruelly at your expense. Two of his thick fingers slide past your folds, and your spongy walls clenched tightly.

This seesaw movement of your hips grinding on Constantine’s hand as Wick abuses your mouth, has your body trembling, and legs burning from the uncomfortable position. But the two older men drink in every whimper, every cry and every tear— sickeningly getting off on your pain.

Your hair is ruthlessly pulled once again by Constantine. Coughs fill your lungs as you try to catch your breath, your lips completely smeared in spit and pre-cum. Wick’s fingers gather the globs of white spit and shoved into mouth, making you choke. Your throat throbbed, eyes borderline fluttering closed, and your knees were definitely bruised.

Like a fucked out doll, your body was rendering submissive to your two burglars.

“Last question..” Constantine snickers, his lips pressed against your ear.

“How long can she last before she breaks?”

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Fin.

— taglist. @alwaysinblck @sickzmbie @nyxblessed @hearteyedbambi @worldsgreatestsinner @slutforsoldierboy @rizunaur @alox @sughcashsaiki @cillivnz @starrgurl46 @beansricejc @97keanu @the-trash-site @keanuthot @sulibbyyyyy @20s7nn @aerangi @alyssagames01 @nogr4vity @gea-chan96

#𓂃 josie's kinktober ˚ ₊ ‧#keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #john wick x reader #john constantine x reader #john wick imagine #john constantine imagine #dark.josie #nsfw.josie #banner cr: cafekitsune

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ssailormoonn · 7 months

Text

Visit | L Lawliet

MASTERLIST ┊death note master list

WC;2.9k┊!MDNI! ┊TW; Voyeurism? Slight cock warming, quick sex, bottom L (Still the dominant power) - Top reader (the submissive), P-I-V, light thigh riding, unprotected sex, pregnancy reveal

SYPNOSIS; {Y/N} takes a visit to see L at the hotel with the task force members present because she couldn't wait any longer to see the man, she has some special news to tell him. Although, he already knows. Cover name; {C/n} | True name ; {Y/n} {Lawliet}

The soft, ambient hum of the hotel's grand reception area envelops me as I stride confidently through the abundant space. The polished, marble tiles beneath my Mary Jane heels seem to create rhythmic clicks the further I walk, never missing a beat, my steps at the same pace.

Clad in a red slip dress that gracefully hugs my form, its silky fabric shifting sensuously with every movement. The dress, with its subtle, elegant shimmer, hints at both sophistication and a hint of allure. It drapes effortlessly a few inches above my knees, swaying with each step, drawing the eye with a subtle flirtation.

A leather coat, dark and supple, wraps around my shoulders like a protective shroud. Its rich scent mingles with the faint fragrance of my favorite perfume, more like L's favourite perfume, he prefers sweet-scented perfumes and I have found the perfect sweet vanilla perfume that I hope he likes compared to the other ones. The coat's collar frames my face, adding a touch of mystique to my appearance, while its sleek design implies both power and sensuality.

As I approach the reception desk, I can't help but notice the curious glances from other guests.

"If it's no trouble," I say, my voice carrying a tone of polite assertiveness, "I would like to get a key card for room 258."

As I speak, my {e/c} eyes lock onto hers, the intensity of my gaze reflecting my self-assuredness. I notice the subtle widening of her eyes, a fleeting reaction that suggests she might have momentarily misjudged me, perhaps assuming I was going to be a nuisance.

My request is delivered with a poised confidence that leaves no room for doubt, dispelling any misconceptions and ensuring that my intention is clear. "Um. I need you to confirm your relationship with the occupant first before I hand over the card. If you don't mind of course!"

"I'm the occupant's wife," I saw with a smile teasing its way onto my face, "I'd like the key card now."

"Yes, of course."

The elevator ride was surprisingly short and quick, considering Mr. Watari had arranged the hotel room to be on a relatively high floor. The floors seemed to glide past as the elevator ascended, and the soft, ambient music playing in the background added a touch of serenity to the journey.

The distinctive beep of the elevator signaled my arrival at the designated floor, and the doors slid open with a whisper of sound. Stepping out, I found myself in a well-lit corridor adorned with tasteful artwork and plush carpeting. I began scanning each door for the room number I sought.

My footsteps were hushed by the luxurious carpeting as I moved gracefully down the corridor. It didn't take long before I spotted the number I was looking for. Room 258. My destination was right in front of me, and I couldn't help but appreciate the attention to detail and opulence that characterised this hotel.

I slide my key card through the scan and it lets out a solemn beep as I crack open the door it seems I had not alarmed anyone to come and see who was coming through, although, they probably had cameras stationed everywhere.

As I burst into the room, I'm immediately met with the sight of several men in sharp suits, undoubtedly the members of the task force who have been tirelessly working on the Kira case. Their presence adds a layer of gravity to the room, emphasising the importance of the mission at hand. Do I care? No.

My {e/c} eyes quickly scan the room, and I spot a solitary figure at the very end. It's L, perched on a chair, indulging in a slice of cake.

Without hesitation, I slip off my jacket and make my way toward L's seat, my footsteps quick but controlled. In the process, I toss my leather coat to one of the task force members, who gasps in surprise at my unexpected and swift action. The room falls briefly into a stunned hush, the abruptness of my entrance leaving an indelible impression.

I turn my head to address the young man who's speaking muttered something, noting his light brown hair and honey-colored eyes. This must be Kira, the one they've been pursuing so relentlessly.

"You can't just come in here and run over to Ryuzaki, we don't even know who you are," He says.

As the young man with light brown hair and honey eyes holds the back of my dress, I feel his firm grip preventing me from moving any closer to L.

With a momentary pause, I assess the situation, understanding the need to establish trust and credibility with the task force before I can approach L further as they obviously do not know who I am. I let out a sigh.

"L, did you not tell them who I am?" I say crossing my arms, "I feel offended. And you, Kira. Are you holding me back because you want something from me? I didn't say yes. You can't shove tea down someone's throat if they don't reply or say no."

"My son is not Kira," A man peaks up.

"What are you talking about," Kira replies.

"She speaks about consent in the context of tea," L says while chewing on his strawberry cake, "Anyways, {C/n}, what are you doing here? I thought I told you not to come until the investigation is over."

"I missed you," I say, "I'm sure you knew that."

"I did."

"So, that leads me to come back to you," I say slapping Kira's hand off the grip on my dress.

"It doesn't matter, you aren't safe here," L says sternly, "Leave."

"I don't think I've heard Ryuzaki so...." Another member of the task force says this time in a younger voice.

"No," I say childishly.

"You are not safe here, {C/n}" He says through another spoonful of cake, and my mouth drops.

"Kira!" I say pointing back at the light brown-haired teen, "Doesn't my name! So who cares!"

"I care, now leave."

"No."

L's annoyance becomes palpable as he lets out an exasperated sigh. He places his plate, which once held a slice of cake, onto the table in front of him, and the clank it makes upon contact with the surface resonates throughout the room. His frustration at the disruption is evident, and it seems he's eager to address the situation and clarify the reason for my sudden appearance.

"Could everyone leave." L's command is authoritative, and the members of the task force obediently comply, exiting the room, and leaving us alone.

With the others gone, L remains in his seat, not making any move to approach me. It's clear that he's feeling a sense of unease, a rare vulnerability that he allows only in my presence. The facade he wears in front of the world drops, and he knows he can be more himself when we're alone together. This unspoken connection between us is a testament to the unique dynamic of our relationship and the trust we share.

I walk confidently in front of L, taking a motherly stance with my hands on my hips as I peer down at him. His gaze remains downcast, and he slowly places his feet on the floor, unfolding from his characteristic egg-shaped sitting position.

As I stand before him, a few moments pass, and then I feel his hands gently rest on my waist. My heart quickens, and I shiver at the intimate contact. L buries his head into my dress-clad stomach, seeking comfort and closeness.

As I wrap my arms around L, pulling him in closer, he responds by encircling me with his own arms, drawing me near. My fingers gently trail through his obsidian hair, and I feel a soft groan escape his lips in response to the sensation. His hands tighten around my waist, and I can't help but chuckle at his endearing reaction, knowing that even in the midst of the most challenging cases, he still wants to have my affection no matter what protests he makes.

"You've been acting moodier lately." L's observation about my moodiness doesn't go unnoticed, and I frown in response, not quite ready to share the news or discuss my feelings.

"Whatever."

L doesn't press the matter further. Instead, he gently pulls away from our close embrace, leaning back into the chair. He pats his lap, and I understand his unspoken invitation. Without hesitation, I eagerly sit on top of L, straddling him, finding comfort and solace in the unique connection we share. It's in these moments of intimacy that we can find solace and support amidst the challenges of the Kira case.

"I missed you," I whispered, my voice choked with emotion as tears welled up in my eyes. The weight of our separation had been unbearable, and now, in this moment of reunion, all I wanted was to hold him close and feel his presence once again.

"I know you did," L says, his voice filled with warmth and understanding as he wraps his arms around my waist. The weight of our separation is unbearable, and in this moment of reunion, all I want is to hold him close and feel his presence once again.

"Why am I crying?" I manage to say, my voice trembling with emotion, tears welling up in my eyes.

"You must be stressed about something, what is it?" L asks, his concern evident in his eyes. His words carry the longing, emptiness, and joy of seeing me.

The truth is, the rawness of our separation has left me emotionally vulnerable. The longing to be with L, to feel his touch and hear his comforting words, has taken a toll on my emotional well-being. It's a natural response to crave that deep connection, to feel the warmth and love that L brings into my life. The day I found out about this... It was Near's intuition that mentioned it, I didn't even think of a possibility that it happened.

I take a deep breath, trying to compose myself, and finally manage to say, "It's just the weight of missing you, L. It's been unbearable and something else."

L's eyes soften, and he pulls me even closer, his embrace providing a sense of solace and comfort. We may have been physically apart, but our bond has remained strong, bridging the distance between us.

"Take your time," he whispers, his voice filled with understanding. "I'm here for you now, and I'll always be. Let yourself feel, and know that I'm here to hold you through it all."

And at that moment, as I let myself surrender to the overwhelming emotions, I realise that the power of our connection transcends physical presence. It is in the tenderness of L's embrace, the reassurance in his voice, and the unconditional love we share that I find solace, healing, and a sense of home.

My whispered words carry a sense of longing and urgency as I address L. I reach out and gently drag the collar of his white tee to the side, exposing a patch of his skin, and press my lips against it. L's response is a soft sigh, his reaction to my touch evident.

"I want you," I murmur, my voice filled with desire and need. "It's been too long, and I can't... I can't function without you."

Our connection goes beyond the professional, and the intensity of our bond is underscored by the intimate moments we share, especially in the midst of such a high-stakes case.

"You're not well, are you sure you don't want to tell me anything before we continue?" He asks in a soft tone rubbing the back of my head as I continue to trail kisses around his neck.

"After," I say desperately, "Please, after. Want you now."

"Whatever you want, love."

I shift myself so I'm perfectly aligned to where his bulge is proding beneath the fabric of his jeans and I grind myself down on him causing a breathy sigh to leave my throat at the relieving action. His grip turns to hold my hips before dragging his hands up to my waist, bunching up the silken fabric to my waist and I whimper when he plays with the hem of my underwear.

"You really are that needy, love," He whispers against the shell of my ear and I bury my head in the crook of his neck.

"Stop," I mumble against his skin to stop the teasing as it's making a deep flush rise against my cheeks.

I feel his two skilled fingers drag my underwear to the side and drag them down my slit causing me to let out a moan at the feeling. "So wet already," He comments and I disregard the comment as I whimper in response instead of answering.

His two fingers slide in my heat and I nibble on the flesh of his neck and L groans in response. I grind myself down on them causing a string of moans to leave my mouth. He curls his fingers and I grind myself back and forth against his long digits. I felt a coil in my stomach tighten and my whimpers became louder.

"Ngh, L," I whimper out as I wrap my arms tighter around his neck, "'M gonna- gonna cum."

"You're doing so good for me," He praises, "Come, {Y/n}."

My juices spill over his fingers, I let out an exasperated sigh and arch my back into him. "Do you want more, my love?" He questions with a soft voice and I hurriedly nod in reply.

I fumble to get the zip to his pants down and I let out a whine as I struggle, L rubs the back of my neck to calm me down as I am being very needy in wanting him, to show me that he isn't going anywhere.

I finally unbuttoned and put down the zipper, he lifted his hips to help me pull down the fabric to his knees and I saw the growing bulge beneath his underwear, my mouth watered at the sight as I couldn't wait to have him inside me rearranging my insides. I pull down the fabric of his boxers and his length springs out and hits his stomach that was covered with his white shirt, L lets out a hiss at the action.

I hold the base of his length and give it a light squeeze while a breathy moan leaves his mouth as I trace the veins on the underside of his cock with my thumb. My hand travels up and down his dick rubbing the strings of pre-come that leaks from him, the moans continue to slip out of L's mouth.

I drag my body up once more while aligning myself with him and draping his swollen tip against my folds. A moan leaves my throat and a hiss respectively leaves his own. I sink myself down on his length and we both hold onto each other tightly. I messily pressed my lips against his and the ecstasy within my body continued to grow as the pleasure grew.

In a moment of unspoken desire and passion, I lean in closer to L, my intent clear in my eyes. Our lips meet in a messy kiss, and the world around us seems to fade away. My heart races, and a cascade of emotions courses through me as I press my lips firmly against his. The taste of the moment lingers on our tongues as move my hips against his.

His cock hits that soft gummy place within my walls making me whimper against the kiss with L's groans reciprocating the pleasure. His hands massage my waist as he helps me carry his weight as I ride him.

"Hah~," I moan pulling away from his mouth as I feel him guiding my hips faster I bury my head within his neck and I nibble on the flesh causing L to tilt his head back at the sensation. I then realised that I had left a mark and that he'd have to cover the red splotch up but that didn't matter. I was so close to coming that my whole body felt weak underneath his warm touch.

I started to chant his name in desperation of wanting to come and I felt his hand press against my lower abdomen making me let out a high-pitched whine as the pleasure coursed through me even higher. "Come on, you can do it," L reassures me, "Come for me, love."

I let the coil in my stomach release and I felt L's own come spill within me that carried a moan from him. I let myself slump against him with his cock still sitting within my gummy walls. Nuzzling myself closer to him he wraps his arms around me. "What did you want to tell me?" He questions delicately against the shell of my ear making me shiver.

"I was visiting the orphanage because the kids missed me and Near asked me something..."

"Yes, love? What was that?"

"You probably already know but I took a test only because the poor baby Near was worried about me," I say remembering how embarrassed Near looked when he asked if I was pregnant, "It came back positive..."

"I already knew that you were pregnant, love. It was just a moment of time before you realised yourself," L says rubbing the back of my head reassuringly.

"You're not mad, are you?"

"I could never be mad at you, my love."

Do not steal, copy, modify, etc

Reblogs and likes are appreciated

MASTERLIST ┊death note master list

#l smut #l x reader #l x you #l x yn #death note smut #death note x reader

253 notes · View notes

thefangirlfever · 7 months

Text

A new beginning (a Miguel O'hara NSFW story)

Summary: Miguel and you are married for more than a year and life has been kinda hectic with all your work. One day he comes home and after seeing Peter B. Parker with Mayday all day, Miguel has only one thing in his mind… Getting you pregnant.

Reader is not a spider-woman for once.

Content warning: smut (18+, MDNI), poor Spanish

Tags: smut, F/M, piv penetration, breast play, mention of pregnancy, married couple, oral sex (m. receiving), that sweet domestic life, breeding kink, reader doesn’t shave (it’s not a kink, we need to normalize body hair on women), angst (if you squint really hard. It’s mostly self-indulgent smut)

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The drizzling sound of oil in a pan filled the kitchen as you started cutting green onions and peppers. You were roaming the kitchen with no care in the world, finally letting all the tension you had accumulated this week leave your shoulders. You’ve had accumulated more shifts than it was necessary at the hospital you were working for, you still had to settle a few things about the new apartment and of course, there was the usual worry about Miguel going on missions as Spider-man and risking his life. Even if you had accepted his role as a super-hero years ago, you still had trouble not worrying when he was home late or when he would come back, covered in bruises and cuts, arguing that “It was just a routine mission.”

You checked the clock on the kitchen’s wall as a reflex. 9 pm. You couldn’t hold a sigh. After all you were no one to blame him for coming home late; you had your fair share of shifts that could last 24 hours, even a whole week-end sometimes. The only thing helping you come through this moment, except the fact that you could see people leaving the dispensary free of their worries, was knowing that Miguel was waiting for you at home. After these shifts, it was almost impossible for both of you to not cling into one another. You would spend the next day, cuddling in your bed, on the couch, letting him massaging you, cooking for the both of you… and when you were extra lucky, you were doing more than just cuddling. You would let Miguel dumb fuck you until you almost forgot your name and start seeing stars.

Just when you were lost in these thoughts, you heard the front door opening and soon Miguel was standing in the frame of the kitchen door. No cut, no wound, no bruise. Today was a good day and you smiled at him, but his gaze told you something was off. Your smile slowly faded away as you asked him about his day:

“Did something happen, Miguel?”

He tried to brush it off as he approached you, hugging you from behind. His chin was resting on top of your head. He smelled the scent of vegetables frying in the pan, clearly trying to find the words that wouldn’t worry you.

“No, the usual. We just had a meeting that lasted a little longer than what we anticipated. That’s all. How was your day?”

You were not fully satisfied with his answer. You knew him. It was clear something was bugging him off. You still decided to wait a little before asking more questions to not rush him. You still had the whole evening after all. You told him about your day and now, the two of you were cooking in silence. It wasn’t usually an awkward silence when you ended up in the kitchen, but tonight something was creeping under the surface. His watch beeped, breaking the silence of the kitchen. You looked over the pot you were stirring and saw that he had received a message from Peter. Miguel opened the notification, thinking it was an important work-related message, but it was just a picture of Peter and Mayday, trying to shoot webs. Under the picture, Peter had written “New recruit incoming!” You couldn’t hold a laugh; Peter was such a girl’s dad. It was pretty cute to see, even if you knew that his lack of professionalism was getting on Miguel’s nerves. Your husband turned off the watch, grunting, and even took it off, putting it on the table before getting back to seasoning the dish.

Something was definitely off.

“Is everything alright, Miguel?”

“Why wouldn’t it be alright?” His voice sounded off. It was your time hugging him from behind, which was not easy regarding your size difference but you still managed to hold him. Your head was resting between his shoulder blades as you stayed like this for a few seconds before finally saying something:

“Listen, I know Peter is sometimes...a little too much and that he gets on your nerves. I also know that things are not always easy at your job and that you are under a lot of pressure…”

You let your hands roam his back and knead his tense shoulders.

“Maybe we can fix that…”

Miguel quickly understood where you were going with this impromptu proposition and alluring tone. He let out an other disgruntled sound as you were bothering him when he needed to focus, but you knew he was smiling, his smile oozing through his voice even if you couldn’t see it.

“You know we don’t have to do it tonight if you’re tired…”

***

You pushed Miguel on your bed, straddling him, your arms around his shoulders as you kissed him. Miguel’s fingers slipped under your shirt, slowly lifting it up. You kept kissing for a good minute, feeling each other as if it had been months since you didn’t see each other. When you broke the kiss, his hair was disheveled and his lips had taken a soft pinkish undertone. You already knew by heart the shape of his body but you never get tired of it, always discovering new things about him. Your right hand was stroking his cheek while your left one glided down his shirt, playing with its buttons. You could see his skin poke through the opening between each button. You both exchanged one knowing look. This would usually turn only one way. Your hands reached his belt and you could feel the fabric of his pants getting stretched by his growing erection. The pad of your thumb brushed over his hard-on as you said with a smile you were now unable to hide any longer:

“Seems like someone is already eager for more.”

Miguel held a sheepish smile as he bit his lower lip. He has to know the effect he had on your after all this time, or else he wouldn’t act this way. One of his hands held himself on the bed while his free hand grabbed your butt, gently squeezing it. You shuddered at the sensation, still managing to keep your fingers on his erection.

“It’s not fair that you’re the only one allowed to touch.”, he said with a cheeky smile. Your fingers unbuckled his belt and he helped you taking off your shirt. You both had been past the first steps of any relationship when you both needed to always present yourself under your best light. You didn’t care anymore about your body hair, your stretch marks or even your saggy breasts. You knew you didn’t have to care anymore about that, that he would accept you the way you are and love you, just like you loved all his “imperfections” that made him who he was. It could be his scars, his fangs or his talons… You had accepted every features of him, you even grew into them.

Miguel took a good look at you before gyrating his lips, slowly lifting them up so you could take off his pants.

“¿Cómo te vuelves aún más bonita cada vez que te veo?” (How do you even get prettier every time I see you?)

Miguel speaking in Spanish was always a good sign in these moments. You were used to his usual sweet names he would give you, but you still had some trouble understanding what he was saying sometimes. Nonetheless you always knew deep down that these were the type of words that would make you go crazy. His little satisfied smile would let you know how much he enjoyed seeing you trying to guess what he just told you.

“I guess you’re not going to tell me what you just said.” You were on your knees, facing him, your hands tugging at the waistband of his underwear, teasing him. He smiled at you, tucking of strand of your hair behind your ear.

“I just said you were getting even prettier every time I see you.”

“I’m going to treat you so right tonight…”, you answered with a grin as you lowered his briefs.

With one gentle pat on your head, he let you know he was ready for you to make your words into action. You gave his cock one long lick from the base to the tip, before teasing the said tip with your lips. Miguel let out a low moan, coming straight out of the depth of his throat. Your tongue swirled around his erect member and you couldn’t hold a moan yourself when you started swallowing him. His hands held the side of your face, your lose hair trapped around his finger. You looked up at his face, watching his every reaction, how his lips slightly parted as he started panting, how a single curl of his hair seemed lost on his forehead…

“No pares, querida. Sé que puedes hacerlo.” (Don’t stop, darling. I know you can do it.)

You started bobbing your head with the help of Miguel. You’re going to need him somewhere else soon. The more you felt him going deeper, the wetter you were getting. You didn’t try to control your moans or the lewd noises your mouth would make, knowing how much he liked it when your were vocal. Your hands started caressing his inner thighs and the closer you were getting to its base, the more Miguel’s hands were gripping your head tighter.

“Please...baby…” His pleading voice was like music to your ears and you could feel how much he wanted for you to take him fully, which was usually not that easy given his girth...but worth it, every time you saw his reaction. You gave him one nod and he pulled you closer, moving his hips, rutting against you, the tip of his cock close to your uvula.

Miguel came quickly after that in a symphony of low groans and helpless whimpers. He let himself fall on the bed, shaking the mattress while doing so. His cock was still hard and the red tip was coated with your saliva. Even when lying down the bed he kept his legs spread. You watched him closely, observing how he would slowly catch his breath.

“Thanks mami. Thanks.”

“My pleasure.”, you answered, whipping some saliva from your chin.

You planted a kiss on his thighs and moved onto the bed, next to him. Your eyes didn’t leave his body. His chest was heaving under the fabric of the shirt and you couldn’t resist opening it, exposing the absolute perfection of his chest to your greedy eyes. Miguel gave you one amused look.

“Got some ideas?”

“You always give me so many ideas, papi.” Your attempt at teasing him in Spanish made him smile even more. You were clearly not fluent but everything sounded way cuter in your mouth and he never minded you being flirty. His fingers brushed along your hips.

“That’s good to know… I may have a few ideas on what we could do… It’s something that would imply for you to relax and lie down.” He smoothly shifted your place on your bed, making you lie on the sheets and straddling you. His fingers get hooked in the hoops of your pants that he quickly pulled off, leaving you in nothing more than in a pair of low-cut panties. Your hip dips were showing as well as the flesh of your thighs, soft and inviting to the gaze, to the touch. The thin straps of the panties was lost under soft mounds of flesh, pressing against your skin. Miguel hooked his fingers under the straps, slowly pulling it off as your womanhood was now exposed to him. He let out a sigh as he watched your body already sprayed out for him. His fingers kneaded your skin, squeezing gently your skin as he lowered his body on yours. You were face to face, your noses rubbing against one another when you reached for your nightstand and more specifically the drawer in which you knew a box of condoms was always waiting. Miguel caught you moving and he gently grabbed your wrist.

“Actually, I thought we could… try not using them tonight.”

It was so rare to see him losing his words. He was always so sure of himself, even when he happened to be wrong, that you stopped moving. Did you understand what he meant?

“But… I could…” You didn’t finish your sentence, letting the word float in the air between the two of you. Miguel suddenly seemed uneasy as he stammered:

“You know what? Forget about what I said. Let’s just use one and…” This time, you were the one stopping his movement as he tried to reach the drawer.

“Miguel, is it what you had in your mind since you came back home?” You weren’t sure of what you were feeling. You were definitely surprised since you didn’t imagine Miguel wanting this, not with his job, not after his last attempt at parenting. You knew it was a sensitive topic for him and he rarely opened up about it. You just assumed he wasn’t interested in this matter. He lowered his head, looking at your body under him, his cheeks slightly flushed as he admitted in a low voice:

“I’ve been thinking about this since we got married.”

Your hands reached for one another, your fingers intertwining and you both could feel the other’s ring against your skin.

“Why didn’t you say anything? I thought you… that you would never want to start a family, to have children.”

Miguel’s small smile almost made you melt. He gave your forehead a soft peck before answering:

“That’s what I used to think too… but then I met you.”

“Is there an other reason?”

“Well… you know…maybe… seeing Jess and Peter having their own family made me think.” Miguel leaned in and kissed your neck, whispering between each kiss:

“I thought we could try and see how it goes. You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about it recently. About our future and some other things. Like, how many children we could have, their names, how they would look… Maybe we would have a house…”

You’ve never thought the picket-fence dream was for you but as Miguel kept describing it, the children running in the garden, waking up on a Sunday morning next to him, the kids barging in the room, hours spend helping them with their homework on the kitchen table before you all make dinner…

“Please, tell me what else you had imagined.” Miguel couldn’t help but smile at your request. The picture of your family was becoming clearer in your mind with every word of his.

“How does that sound, querida?” He was waiting for your answer, feeling more anxious every minute as he had just told you his dearest desire.

“It sounds amazing, Miguel.” His smile could light up the whole room as he pressed his body on yours.

“Do you want this too?”, he asked in a low voice. You could only nod as your hands wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. You then lifted up your lips to meet his and he let out a low groan before kissing you. The kiss you were sharing was becoming more and more heated as the two of you moved your heads, deepening the kiss. Miguel’s tongue entered your mouth and caressed its inside when his hands strongly held your hips. The tip of his cock brushed against your entrance and you moaned against his mouth. He kept teasing you until you were growing more and more frustrated and playfully bit his lower lip. Miguel’s fingers started spreading your wet arousal all over your folds as he began to stretch you, getting you ready for him. He couldn’t believe what he was about to do. The mere idea of cumming inside you was already making his softened member harder than before and he knew he wouldn’t last long.

When he finally inserted his cock between your lips, he let out a low moan, throwing his head backward. You felt your body reacting for you, your walls tightening around him, trapping him until he let go of his release. It took him a few seconds to adjust himself, finding the right angle and the best way for you to accommodate to his size and girth. Just when he began to move slowly, sliding in and out, your hands reached for his butt and you helped him moving, finding the right pace. You would give him a few squeezes from time to time, feeling how it seemed to directly affect him.

Miguel’s eyes were locked on yours as he watched your face distorted with pleasure, your lips slightly parted, your eyes half-closed and at the same time imagining what you would look like pregnant. He could easily picture your soft and round body, all for him to love and worship.

You felt him getting closer to his release each passing second from the look in his eyes, dizzy and far away, and the way his hips were mowing in a soon erratic way. You wrapped your legs around his waist and your hands grabbed his hair, pulling his face closer to yours for an other kiss. You were both lost in the haze of pleasure this whole thing was. Miguel’s legs were shaking when he grabbed one of your breasts and squeezed it. Your moan, the weight and softness of your breasts against his hands… he lost it in this moment. With a low moan, he finally let go, reaching his orgasm and when he did so, his fingers squeezed harder your breast, earning a strangled moan from you as well.

Miguel let his body fall on top of yours, while his cock was still buried inside you. He was filling you in every way possible. Before you could say anything his lips kissed your breasts, first the side then the top and finally his lips circled your nipple, licking, tugging and biting on them. His ministrations were methodical as he knew exactly what strings to pull for you to enjoy yourself. As he did so, your fingers kept playing with his hair, with the soft and plump curves of his bottom… and this time you both came.Miguel let out a tired groan before lying next to you. One of his hands gently squeezed your thigh while you both looked at each other.

“Do you think it will work?”, you asked in a small voice.

Miguel’s body shifted toward you and he held your waist, pressing his forehead against yours. He needed some time to find his words while enjoying the beauty of your body in front of him. Will it work? Probably not the first time, he thought. But he knew it was just a matter of time before the two of you could have your own family., and he was more than willing to try as many times as needed.

“You’re going to be such an amazing mom.”

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Note: I don't usually like the pregnancy trope and pregnancy is something that I find a little scary. Also this is such a heavy topic, so I hope I gave it justice. I'm not really satisfied with what I wrote but I still wanted to try.

But I also thought this trope could really fit Miguel. I hope you enjoyed it.

Thanks for reading this mess. Here's your cookie🍪

Edit: thanks for the 200 likes

#astv miguel #spiderverse #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 #atsv #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara smut

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ecoamerica · 1 month

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youtube

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

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hoenoredone · 9 months

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IN SICKNESS AND IN HEALTH – nanami kento

a/n: sorry for the inactivity, exams have been kicking my ass

contents: nanami is starting to get old. he used to be able to withstand nights of drinking until he passed out and the subsequent work day, but now the a/c gives him a cold. tags: sfw, enstablished relationship, married au, non sorcerer au, fem!reader, talks of snot and fever, unbelievably self indulgent.

unbelievable. un-believable. you knew something was wrong when nanami had made himself a cup of chamomile tea with a spoonful of honey the night before. he had told you he was just tired from work, but – realistically – who wants to have hot tea in the middle of july? he had been clearig his throat way too often before going to bed, and he looked like he was struggling to swallow whatever food you offered.

after years of marriage you knew better than to ask him about it, he'd only deny feeling unwell. so you do the next best thing: slip him a tablet for his sore throat with the usual vitamins he takes every night. he fell asleep almost instantly, his body already tired from fighting off the illness. he unintentionally woke you up at around 4am from blowing his nose a little too hard, causing him to cough into the tissue.

he struggled to fall asleep again after that, tossing and turning every couple of minutes, no doubt from not being able to breathe properly. it's in that precise moment (5:33am) when you decide that he's taking the day off tomorrow. he's an icredibly responsible worker, he has more than enough sick days accumulated to be able to use at least one.

you wake up before him – miraculously, considering how little sleep you got – and make him some breakfast as quietly as possible. you decided not to turn off his alarm clock because you knew he would not listen to you and simply rush straight to work if you had done that. so you opt to set the table and place the freshly squeezed orange and ginger juice next to his green tea and a bowl of honey-banana oatmeal.

you hear the familiar beeping of the alarm clock as you're pouring yourself a cup of coffee, and patiently wait for your husband to come into the kitchen. you must be lost in thought because you almost don't notie him until he rests his head on your shoulder and tries to stifle a cough.

"morning," he groggily says.

"sweetheart," you coo while turning to face him, "did you have trouble sleeping? i heard you coughing at some point. here," you place your coffee down on the counter and raise your hand to his forehead, "let me see."

you almost gasp at the heaviness of his eyelids and the unusual warmth of his forehead.

"kento, you look ill," and he knows you're serious, you never call him by his name.

"i feel fine," he tries, but he knows that it's useless. he doesn't feel too bad, just congested. and he has a headache. and his throat is killing him. he can power through.

"have some breakfast and go back to bed, i'll text your boss and bring you some medicine after," he can't even protest, the thought of having to get ready and go into that cold, cold office where his cubicle is inches away from the a/c sending chills down his spine. not like his protests would matter much, regardless, as you're already sprinting to his phone. so he sits down, alternates between sipping his tea and the juice you had made him (the ginger burns his throat but he forces himself to swallow). he tries to eat most of the oatmeal but his stomach just doesn't agree with him, so he leaves a little less than half of it in the bowl.

he's a good man, tidies up after himself even when oh so horribly sick, and goes back to bed. once you hear the rustling of the covers you know you've succeded. you exit the bathroom, a smidge of eye cream unblended on your cheek, and hand him a glass of water and some ibuprofen. you make sure he has enough tissues by the bed and leave him a bottle of cough syrup and a spoon on his nightstand. you tuck the comforter all the way up his chin and grab some clothes to get ready for work.

once you're ready you come back into the bedroom and almost decide to leave without giving him a kiss in fear of disturbing his rest. you opt against that, knowing how unusually whiny your husband gets when he's sick. so you place a gentle hand on his arm and leave a peck on his forehead.

"i'll try to be back for lunch," you whisper, "but if i don't make it there should be some leftovers in the fridge if you feel up to it."

he groans in response as you make your way to your shoe rack, a barely audible "love you" from him painting a smile on your lips as you quietly close the door.

#nanami kento #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic

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withabroken-heart · 1 month

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LOSS OF MY LIFE

chuuya x reader

chuuya questions his humanity while you’re on your deathbed.

heavy angst, themes of suicide, loss, and suffering

a/n: mourning someone you never thought would leave is the worst kind of pain. this one is very self indulgent and has a lot of my feelings poured into it

a/n: TTPD ALBUM OF THE YEARR

he wished he never knew you.

at least then, he wouldn’t have the feeling of knowing you, knowing every part of you, but not having you around.

it all happened so fast. one wrong mission. one wrong move. one wrong mistake that should’ve landed on chuuya- but costed you everything. he should have seen the attack coming, but he didn’t. why didn’t he? the one time chuuya nakahara fucked up, it fucked you over instead.

it should have been me. he thought.

he’s lost track of time. he knows he has work to return to, stacks of paper on his desk. his stomach growls and his throat is parched for water. his eyes yearn to close, wanting to sleep. but he can’t. you’re not there to keep him company in his otherwise barren office. you’re not there to share the meal with him and scold him about staying hydrated. you’re not there to be wrapped up in his arms, fully trusting you while you sleep together. because you’re here. on the hospital bed, tubes attached to you keeping you alive.

the beeps of your heart monitor was merely white noise to him now. the doctors told him to hope for the best, but prepare for the worst. you were hit in one to many fatal areas. you lost almost too much blood. you might not recover. you might not wake up.

but she has too. he thought.

spending a year with someone does a lot to a person. chuuya had loved before you, but never like this. he had never promised so much for someone, felt his heart beat the way it did for you. you and him promised marriage, a family, you two promised forever.

chuuya nakahara was a man of the mafia.

and that meant he knew death better than anyone.

in his line of work, losing people meant hoping that death is kinder than life. he didn’t have the time to grieve, he could only wish them peace in slumber and fortify his heart. he had been through it, possibly preparing himself for worse and worse each time.

but nothing could have prepared him for this.

chuuya could feel his being overfill with grief. he had given so much love to you. so much time, so many promises, so many kisses, embraces, late nights and forevers to you. he’d given you every fibre of his mortal being because fuck, he loved you. and he had never felt a love like yours- and he didn’t want to try and feel anyone else’s because it would never feel like yours. his grief was just love with nowhere to go.

you were an anchor to chuuya’s humanity, something that kept him in place throughout all the pain and suffering of his life. he thought he would love you forever. but right now chuuya wished he could forget. forget the life you two almost had. the wedding you almost had. the kids you almost raised. the life that was so close he could graze it with his fingertips right before the rug was pulled out from underneath him. it was either he had it all with you, or didn’t know you at all. not the in between. not the purgatory. not the almost.

“i’ll love you for the rest of my life.” he hears you say in the tone of voice he adored.

he wasn’t sure what he would do if that life ended too short. no, not when you were supposed to be forever.

he would rather tear down the world than lose you. he’d tear the roots of the world into pieces, collapse buildings upon buildings and set everything in his sight ablaze. he’d burn down everything, everyone and anything that dared his grief. and in the end he’d cause massive waves to erupt from the ocean floors, washing over all who inhabits the planet, making sure no one would return from the seas unbiased fate.

i’d do it. he bargains in his mind, pleading to anyone out there who may hear his call. he was never the faithful type, but seeing you barely hold onto your life made him desperate. maybe arahabaki would hear him, maybe the universe would. i’d do it for her. just bring her back. bring her back to me.

he held your wired hand, a knot in his chest forming feeling how cold you were. it felt like death was already trying to take you away from him, and chuuta wasn’t having it.

he wanted to speak, to call out to you. he wanted to beg you to wake up, remind you that he’s still here. remind you that you still have a life to live. a life with him.

he opened his mouth, but nothing cane out.

he wasn’t just losing you. he was losing his life.

and he felt all of it escape his eyes and roll down his cheeks.

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happysaddca · 1 month

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This is. Incredibly self-indulgent and requires context.

You are a veteran FazCo employee who worked as a janitor (and eventually dates that location's DCA) when the Glitchtrap virus infects the plex. Unlike the game, this virus affects all the mega pizzaplexes, and it leads to you getting mauled by Moon. You nearly die, the DCA is deactivated and replaced after the virus mysteriously vanishes, and eventually you start working at a new plex, with a new DCA and staff.

After a long and bumpy road, you finally have your DCA's chips installed in a functional animatronic. It's time for a reunion.

Parts and Service still creeps you out, even with the changes the tech team here made. At the very least, you’re allowed to wait in the cylinder instead of outside with everyone else.

You take a peek through the glass, catching Gemma and Anika watching you. Your body locks up, and you manage a stiff little wave before focusing on Sun behind them. Sun isn’t watching you (at least, you’re pretty sure he’s not). Sun’s watching the body on the table. Your turn back to it as well.

It’s another Daycare Attendant unit, currently completely off. The color changing material of the animatronic’s pants and paint sits at a muted, muddy brown color, the light not bright enough to bring out Sun’s colors but too bright for Moon’s. When you touch its faceplate, it’s cold, unmoving. It’s an older model, a spare body for the DCA standing outside. And it currently holds the chip that is your

That is your Sun and Moon.

“Everything good in there?” Gemma’s voice is tinny over the speakers. You nod quickly, giving a thumb’s up. “Okay, I need you to back away for a second. Gotta plug in and give the OS one last check before we power them up.”

“Okay.” You give a reluctant half step back, then another at Gemma’s prompting, retreating closer to the wall and the people outside. Overhead, electricity thrums as the diagnostics and repair tools come online, a cable snaking down to plug into the back of the animatronic’s head. “You’ll warn me when they’re about to be turned on, right?” No answer. “Guys?”

The sounds overhead changes, with a chime sequence signaling that no, you were in fact not being warned ahead of time.. Some pseudo-soothing, corporate beeps that remind you of commercials advertising anti-depressants begin, but when you go to approach the body again, the speaker crackles on.

“Stay right there.”

“But I want—” You’re cut off before you can even turn to face the trio waiting outside.

Anika’s frown is made more severe by scarring distorting her forehead.

“We don’t know how they’re going to react to being woken up for the first time in three years. For them, it’s only been a moment since they shut down, and we don’t really know how that… hey. Don’t look like that. I thought you’d already worked past the guilt.”

“No, I have. But. I.” Another chime sequence has you whipping back around, but there’s no change. You shift so you can keep half an eye on what’s happening while you’re talking to everyone on the outside.

“Sunshine.” Sunny speaks over Anika, leaning forward to take the microphone. “Think about what might happen if they come online and hurt you.”

“It’d be—”

“It’d be an accident, but.” Sunny holds up one long finger, indicating that you should wait. You look back at the table again, but there’s still nothing to indicate what’s going on. “Friend, turn your screen around. They’re going to be fretful unless they know what’s going on.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Gemma turns one of the monitors around, showing off a series of progress bars that you don’t know what they mean. She taps the monitor. “Once this hits a hundred percent, they’ll boot up.”

“Thank you.” The lump in your throat eases, just a little. You stare at the little bars slowly working its way up.

“Sunshine.” Sunny catches your attention with his talking-to-children-about-complex-topics voice. “We should stay here until the other attendant wakes up and has a moment to process that they aren’t affected by the virus—and that they’re safe.”

“As safe as they can be in here,” you mumble, and Sunny’s smile widens as he gives a small nod, setting the microphone back on the table. The progress bar fills ever so slowly, and any noise behind you makes you twitch and look back at the animatronic with concern. Your palms itch, suddenly slick, and you wipe at them quickly before shoving them in the pockets of your overalls.

Overalls. You are bringing back your oldest, dearest friend that you’ve not seen in years and you’re wearing the world’s most fucked up, stained overalls. And that does count farmers and mechanics around the world. You take a peek at the progress bar and—how has it jumped up 30% already? It had been dragging just a minute ago! There’s now no way you can slip away into something better, and of course you couldn’t have gone anyway.

The noise from overhead changes, and there’s an error sound, sharp and blunt, followed by the mechanical squeak of the monitor getting jerked back around to Gemma. “Anika, can you grab the thingie?”

“The thingie?”

Gemma gestures vaguely behind her and Sun, who is standing frozen, rays partially retracted as he stares at the table. Anika zips off to find whatever it is Gemma needs, but you’re turning away again, watching as the spare daycare attendant unit twitches.

“Sun?” you ask, stepping closer. The animatronic twitches again, one hand, then a whole leg, spastic and out of control like it’s being electrocuted in bits and pieces. Their rays start to poke out, then snap back into place with an audible click. One gets stuck, tangled up in white and blue fabric. “Moon, Sun, it’s okay,” you say, voice barely audible over their fans starting and immediately going into overdrive. “You’re safe. It’s me.”

“Sunshine!” Sunny’s voice breaks when you are close enough to touch the twitching attendant’s foot.

Your ears pop as the doors open, and you twitch, turning just enough to hold out a hand. “Sunny, it’s okay. I know but… they’re glitching out. I think they’re going to Eclipse.”

“All the more reason to stay away!”

“You stay there if it makes you comfortable, but if they’re Eclipsing…” You turn back in time to catch the rays spring out, a handful caught in the hat, shredding into it. “I’m staying. Sun? Moon?”

There’s no reply from the animatronic, just more twitching and spasming. You want to free the rays from their hat, but this early model has no silicone softening the metal edges. They’re just a bunch of very dull knives and with no consciousness controlling their movements. You settle for touching their shoe instead, feeling the twitching of their actuators. Are they in pain? Can they feel anything at all?

“Hey, be careful in there! I’m unplugging the cords now and sometimes they can be a little whippy.” You grimace, pulling away as far as you could without relinquishing your touch over the moon patch. You give a thumbs up without looking away.

The cords are a little whippy, jerking away from the table and snapping back into the ceiling with such force that it makes them look alive. You hate Parts and Services.

“We’re at ninety percent now. Sunny, if you can step back? We don’t know how they’ll react to another Attendant hovering.”

“Right… right.” Sunny’s voice is closer, and you’re surprised to find he’d crept well inside the cylinder, the distance between the two of you halved. He holds his hands up, retreating back to the door. You stare and he gives a timid little shrug, his faceplate tilted towards the now waking animatronic.

You’ve been around FazCo branded animatronics for ten years now, been in love with one, this one, for almost as long. Even in a new body, even Eclipsed, you know they’re waking from the change in their fans, slowing briefly with a little click clatter click before returning to overdrive. The foot under your hand twitches one last time before stilling and pulling away.

There’s static, climbing up your arm and into your mind as you look up. There’s static there too, a thin, trembling stream from Eclipse’s hidden speakers. They’re staring at you, eyes locked on. You shift, and they shift, ever so slightly, eyes tracking the scars visible on your face.

“Eclipse?” you ask, holding a hand up as they start to answer. “No, it’s okay. I-I am happy to see you. You’re here. You’re safe. You’re both safe, right?”

You have to walk around the table. They still watch you, hands limp at their side until you reach for the nearest one. They flinch away, dragging their hand into their lap, claws catching on the coarse material of their waist ruffle. Once, a long time ago, you’d asked about those claws and Moon had explained they used to play stringed instruments, just like the glamrocks did now.

“You won’t hurt me,” you tell them, taking their hand anyway and squeezing it so hard you can feel a joint in your wrist pop. You toy with one of the claws with your thumb, worrying the little gear that makes it flip back into their fingers, sighing softly. “You didn’t hurt me.”

You look up to see them staring at you, and despite things, you give a little laugh. A wet laugh, something sticking in your throat uncomfortably. “It wasn’t you Moon.”

You don’t know how or when, but a cold hand brushes over the ruined half of your face, stroking the skin just under your eye. It pulls back, metal shiny with tears. You laugh again, hiccuping and holding your free hand up to your face as you force yourself to calm down. “I’m okay. I’m here. You’re here. I missed you so much you big stupid dummy.”

You can’t wait any longer, so you throw yourself at Eclipse, worming your hands under their arms, tucking your face carefully under their faceplate, away from the metal rays. They can’t see you crying like this, but it’s an ugly messy, human thing and their neck ruffle is horrifically itchy. The slow weight of hands on your back make you sob, voice breaking.

There’s a few minutes that are likely very awkward for everyone not currently on or half on the cylinder’s table, but you don’t notice any change until there are claws digging in your back. “Eclipse,” you mumble, lifting your head, but the hands pin you to their torso. “Eclipse, what’s wrong?”

“I-it might be me!” Sunny’s voice trips over itself. “I, we, all of us wanted to make sure you were okay?”

“I’m okay,” you say, a little too softly at first. You feel up for Eclipse’s cheek, stroking it gently. “‘Clips, let me up. Sunny isn’t going to hurt us.”

The hands dig, and you can feel those claws in your skin, but they loosen as you continue to push up. You settle on the table a little awkwardly, perched to avoid hurting Eclipse with your weight. You wipe at your eye, trying to clear your vision, before taking Eclipse’s hand again. “Sorry Sunny. I know things aren’t going as planned but…” You clear your throat, smiling weakly. “Sunny, this is Clips. They Daycare Attendant from my old plex. Eclipse, this is Sunny. He’s the Daycare Attendant here in Sandusky. He uh, he helped convince me it was worth trying to save you.” You hesitate. “He and his Moon went through it too,” you say more softly. Eclipse’s grip tightens on you and Sunny grimaces. “We’ll talk about it later, when everyone’s recovered. Sunny, move.” You gesture and he gives you a confused look before stepping out of the way.

Anika and Gemma are staring through the thick plexi of the cylinder. Gemma’s mouth is hanging open, but Anika looks vaguely smug. You hold up your entwined hands in a wave. “That’s Gemma and Anika. Gemma helped get this body back online and you in it, and Anika helped me save you. We saved you.” Oh, you’re starting to cry again.

“Welcome back to the world of the living.” Gemma’s voice is clipped, and she turns her monitor back to you. You can just barely see some graphs and charts, but the orangey-red lines, and the continued strain of Eclipse’s fans clue you in before Gemma can.

“Oh, oh, Eclipse, you need to restart with just one of you fronting.” You turn back to them, catching them staring at you once again. You twist around to hold their face, stroking over the edge and the craters, finding the large swirl of an eyebrow before you reach their hat. They flinch as you pull at it. “I know. But I’ll stay right here the entire time. I won’t even let go of your hand.”

“Sunshine, that’s—”

“I’m staying right here Sunny,” you say, a little more sharply than you meant to sound, but the intent remains. You don’t look away from Eclipse, leaning forward to press a kiss over the moon’s eye. “I am staying right here. You can restart. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”

Eclipse stares, and there’s a long, long minute where you worry they’re going to refuse until they burn out but finally there’s a soft stream of static and a nod. Eclipse leans forward as you pull on their hat, freeing it incrementally from their rays. The light from their eyes dims and goes out, their fans slowing a couple minutes later. You pull the hat free successfully, their hand slipping from yours as you check over the fabric. It’s torn and greasy where it’d gotten caught in the gears, but you can probably fix it, if they want. Or perhaps you’ll be able to get help remaking their old hat, if that’s what they preferred.

“Is everything all right?” Sunny’s voice is quiet, and his hand is soft as it rests on your shoulder. You twitch but don’t pull away, watching your attendant’s faceplate intently for any flicker of light. “They’ll turn on again.”

“I know they will. But will they be able to let go? It’s got to be Moon, I think. It’s always been more willing to take control.” Sunny’s gentle verbal prodding compels you to continue. “Sun’s a softie, even if she does have a spine about the rules, her rules. The ones that are important to her. She tried so hard…” You trail off into a cough, swallowing back the lump wrong and making it worse on yourself. You have to wipe at your eyes again, sniffing hard. “But if Moon is scared or upset, they might Eclipse again.”

The startup is quieter, so you miss it in your talking to Sunny, until you feel more than hear the thrum of the animatronic’s inner workings. Sunny steps back, out of reach, when the rays retract, one at a time, jerkily, like the mechanism controlling them is unfamiliar to the Moon currently in control. Because it’s Moon who is waking up now, and it’s Moon’s gravelly voice that lets out a surprised noise when you immediately push into a hug.

“Starlight?”

The nickname is enough to make you cry again, and you squeeze him so tightly your arms hurt. “I’m here Moony. I’m here. And I’m never leaving you again.”

#dca au #fnaf daycare attendant #daycare attendant #constellations au #fnaf dca #dca #dca fandom #moon fnaf #sun fnaf #eclipse fnaf #dca ocs #reader insert #gender neutral reader

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deadhumourist · 1 year

Text

I'll take care of you

Pairing: Frankie Morales x GN!Reader

Summary: You're sick and an unexpected source of help shows up.

Word count: ~2400

Rating: M, but there's no spice. This is a strictly 18+ blog, no minors.

Warnings: No pronouns used, no physical description of reader or mention of age. Nicknames used - Sweetheart and baby, self-indulgent fluff, fainting, mention of painkillers, let me know if I missed something.

A/N: I originally wrote this for my bestie when she was sick, and she kindly allowed me to adapt this into a fic. Love you @just-here-for-the-moment

------

You knew when you woke up with a pounding headache and a stuffy nose that your day was going to go downhill. Fast.

Not being someone who got sick often, this sensation of your head weighing twenty pounds felt overwhelming. As if that wasn’t bad enough, you had been woken up by a loud banging noise during the night - loud enough to make you jolt awake - from neighbours who had been out late and were now returning with a raucous group of friends. The shot of adrenaline from the fright didn’t leave your system for a long time and you tossed and turned until you heard birds twittering in the trees outside.

Now awake and groggy, you rolled over and grabbed your phone. You were supposed to have brunch with your friend later that morning but at this rate you couldn’t even breathe through your nose. Blearily you unlocked the phone and shot her a text.

“Hey, I’m down this morning, could I please take a raincheck? ”

A few minutes later your phone beeped. “Yeah hon, no problem. I hope you feel better. Can I bring you anything?”

You sent her back the green-faced emoji. “I would kill for a Netipot and some painkillers”

She sent you back a thumbs up emoji.

Slipping the phone back on the table, you laid back. Your eyes felt like they were going to drop out of your head every time you moved.

You dozed off for the better part of an hour, and was then awoken by a sharp rap on the door. "Coming!" you called weakly from your spot on the bed. Throwing on a robe, you shuffled to the front door, thankful that your friend (and painkillers) were here.

The door swung open and your eyes widened in shock…In front of you stood Frankie, armed with a bag of things and his phone in his hand, earphones hooked into the neck of his t-shirt along with his sunglasses.

Frankie was a friend who you knew through other friends. Specifically the one you spoke to this morning. Who you had told about your crush on him. The one who knew, in no uncertain terms, that you felt he was out of your league and that there was a big, unromantic DNI slapped to his forehead in your mind.

You instinctively closed up your robe further and shrugged into yourself.

"Oh, hi Frankie. I…uh..I was expecting someone else."

You immediately cringed at how unfriendly that came out.

He seemingly ignored it, a frown forming on his forehead as he took you in.

"You look terrible."

Sighing deeply, you failed to stop a little cough from skittering out of your throat.

"Yeah, thanks. I feel that way. Good morning to you too, by the way.”

Frankie had been told you were sick but when he saw you standing in the doorway…it was so much worse than he imagined. You didn’t have your usual spark or smile, and the way you shrunk into your bathrobe like an injured little bird made his heart squeeze painfully. He was originally only meant to drop off the supplies, but seeing your tired, worn-out frame changed his plans immediately. He didn’t even think about it, the words just seemed to leave his lips of their own accord and all he could do was keep up.

With the corner of his mouth lifting at your quip, he invited himself in, gently ushering you back inside and closing the door behind him.

“Uhm…at the risk of sounding ungrateful, what are you doing here?” You eyed him as he walked into your living room.

“A little bird told me you were sick so I brought supplies over. I’m going to take care of you.” he replied matter-of-factly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I don't know about this" you wheezed.

Ignoring your protest, he busied himself unpacking the items from the bag before turning around and quipping. "You want me to get a nurse's outfit? Will that make you feel better?" His smug little grin did nothing to dispel the idea of him in scrubs that you could peel off.

Before you could fantasize any further you went into a coughing fit, which doubled you over. Frankie sped over and took your hand to help you back upright, little cough aftershocks still shaking your ribs.

He was suddenly very close, concerned eyes looking into yours. His hand traveled up your arm and squeezed your shoulder gently.

In a low voice, he murmured "Get on the bed, Sweetheart."

In a slight daze you went, obeying him. He’s never used that particular nickname with you before, but you would be lying if you said it didn’t make something delicious preen inside of you. You wanted more of it. Frankie had always just been kind and sweet but something in his voice made your skin flame.

He switched the kettle on and prepared some herbal tea. Then he extracted the thermometer from its packaging and set it by the bedside table. You watched with wide eyes as he went about his business in your space like he was at home there.

Finishing the tea, he set it down and took a seat by your side on the bed, one leg casually slung over the other. He seemed to slide into the role of carer effortlessly and you would have been amused were you not feeling like you were on the brink of death. Taking the thermometer, he flicked it a few times before bringing it to your lips.

"Open for me" he asked softly.

When the thermometer beeped, he slid it from your lips and looked at the reading.

"Mierda, it's high”. He never cussed in front of you, but the distinct tone of worry bled through the words as they hung in the air between you.

"We need to cool you down, otherwise you're going to feel worse. We gotta break this fever, okay?"

“We?” you asked, aiming for a teasing tone but failing miserably short due to the weakness in your voice. He continued as if he didn’t hear you.

He got up and motioned to you. "The robe's gotta go. You need to cool down."

"But" you started to protest but his plush lips settled into a disapproving line and you knew it would be pointless to argue. Frankie wasn’t one to argue but you knew when he had drawn a line and would not be moved from it.

You shrugged it off, revealing your favourite pajamas underneath - it was mismatched and well-worn but comfy . He took the robe and hung it on a nearby hook, then proceeded to take his shoes and cap off. It gave you some time to swallow two painkillers with your tea.

Then you just laid back and watched him, too tired and wrung out to argue. He rummaged in the bag then walked to the bathroom where you heard the water splash in the basin.

The cool air on your heated skin was nice but your lungs were becoming sore from the constant coughing. “What are you doing now?” you grumped at him from your nest of blankets.

He smiled to himself over the basin; you were a grumpy patient and instead of irritating him, it just made him soft. But being soft with you wouldn’t necessarily get you better, especially not if you kept resisting his help.

So when he spoke to you next, he was a little more stern.

"C’mon, stop arguing with me and scoot down."

Your fever-addled brain didn't immediately comprehend.

He repeated the request, clarifying.

"Scoot down so I can sit behind you."

"Whuu…why?"

"Please, just trust me."

You did as he asked and he slid in behind you, framing your torso with his knees so that you rested back onto his chest, your head nestled close to his neck so he could easily reach down to talk to you.

He produced the cool washcloth and gently held it to your forehead and cheeks, pressing it to you a little firmer to tilt your head back onto his collarbone.

"See how good it feels when you don't fight me on everything?" he murmured lowly, close to your ear. The way his stubble barely skimmed the shell of your ear made goosebumps erupt down your arm.

Worrying the sudden goosebumps were a reaction from the fever, he resolved to finish up quickly and get you closer to cool water.

If only he knew what was really causing it.

“Okay, new plan, we need to get you to cool water. You’re still burning up.”

“You sayin’ I’m hot?” you grumbled.

“I’m saying you have a fever and if we don’t get it down, things will go south.”

He moved off the bed and helped you up. Carefully, he kept his hand on your lower back as you shuffled to the bathroom, where he opened the faucet and positioned you in front of the basin. You splashed your face and then suddenly felt a wave of nausea wash over you.

"I feel a bit dizzy" you murmured, hand coming up to your face.

Frankie uttered a worried "hmmm". Perhaps it was a mistake getting you out of bed, but he desperately needed to get your temperature down. A split second decision made him run the shower cold, and shedding his t-shirt and socks, grabbed you by the waist and dragged you under the spray with him just as you started to lose consciousness.

He hugged you close to him, your back pressed to his front. In an urgent, fervent whisper he rocked you under the cold water, counting down the seconds.

"Sweetheart, stay with me. Come on, baby, I've got you. I've got you, you're okay, I'll take care of you. C'mon baby."

Anxiety squeezed the lungs in his chest until it felt like they would burst. He tilted your head back slightly to allow the cool water to run down your neck and chest.

Frankie could feel his pulse rabbit as the seconds ticked by. In the shower cubicle, the steady stream of water and whispers against your skin slowly pulled you back from the edge.

You felt a chaste kiss being gently pressed to your temple, followed by another whisper.

"Stay with me, please."

And then barely audible over the spray.

"Please be okay."

He sighed into the small space where every second felt minutes too long.

You felt yourself coming back from the brink of the fevered dark quicker now, shivering at the pelting spray on your heat-sensitized body.

Frankie noticed the small movement in his arms and he could have wept right then.

He grabbed your hand from thankfulness, threading his fingers though yours and bringing it up to press a kiss to your knuckles. Slowly you also became aware of his bare chest pressed to your back, evidently not caring about cold shower tiles.

"I thought I lost you for a minute there" he scoffed, relief bleeding through the words.

With one hand feeling around above him, he managed to turn the shower off, and helped you into a towel. Wrapping the fluffy white towel around you, he rubbed gently, making sure to wick as much water as possible. He lead you back to the bed, and helped you sit down on the edge of it.

You slumped once you were sat, with Frankie kneeling in front of you.

"You can't sleep in wet clothes. Let's get you changed." he intoned gently.

"I don't have the energy, Frankie. Please." you whined, hanging your head low. You felt vulnerable after almost fainting in his arms and didn't want to repeat the performance.

He placed a hand gently on your knee.

"Sweetheart. Let me help.”

You looked at him, your frown lines forming like thunderclouds on a sunny horizon. He tried to make you smile.

"Think of me as Doctor Frankie just helping a patient." he said with a lop-sided grin.

Your frown line softened and you prodded.

"Did you just promote yourself? You were Nurse Frankie when you came in.

He squeezed your knee and smiled boyishly. “I’ll go so you can change.”

A few minutes later, he came back into the room, pleased to see you in bed and under the covers. Sheepishly he stood around until you piped up with a small voice.

“Will you lie with me until I fall asleep?”

He grinned at you, and without a word, went to hang his wet jeans over the bath tub. You realised that Frankie, having been in the shower with you, would have no dry clothes of his own here. You threw him a lifeline.

“Uhm…Frankie, there are some old swimming trunks from my brother on the second shelf. They were left here months ago, they’re washed, so…” you trailed off.

You heard more shuffling and then he appeared in the doorway. From your cosy place in bed you tried really hard not to look at his broad chest and the dusting of dark hair that trailed down under his navel.

As the bed dipped under his weight, he swung his legs inside the covers and laid back into the large pillow. He looked over at you, his focus soft, a few curls air-dried falling over his forehead.

"Come here, beautiful." He husked, and lifted his arm up.

You looked at him for a moment, incredulous at the offer. A small part of you was still grumping inside and needed comfort so you gingerly moved closer to him. As you shifted, you laid your head on his chest, snuggling into the corner of his arm and shoulder.

You wriggled a little to get comfortable, and once you settled, his scent was right by your nose; the fresh, cinnamon-like cologne he had applied hours before. Something really sexy but comforting emanated from him, something uniquely male and you nuzzled a little further into him, swinging a leg between his own two.

He made room for you.

Then he reached over with his other hand and gently cupped the back of your head, holding you close. It made you want to purr. This wasn't just comfort, it was heaven.

Frankie felt content for the first time that day. He had always skirted around you to avoid facing what he already suspected he felt.

He would nurse you back to health before he asked you out, he resolved as his eyes slipped closed.

#frankie morales fluff #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales fanfiction #triple frontier imagine #frankie morales fic #pedro pascal fan fiction #pedro pascal fics #pedro pascal character fanfic

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upon-a-starry-night · 1 year

Text

Number Neighbors Pt.1

Natasha x Fem!Reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Word Count: 970

Summary: When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

~~~~ You were told you were a naturally curious person, you tried every hobby you saw, new things caught your attention, and trends were constantly popping up on your social media that you’d wanted to try. So when you’d caught sight of the newest trend going around you knew you were all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway.

What could possibly stem from something so little?

You’d just woken up from a dream about living in a beautiful house with some woman you’d met online, inside of the dream you were sitting on the counter while the woman made breakfast. Your brain was still fuzzy with sleep as you were trying to recall the memories of the dream before they faded away.

You really should keep a dream journal with all the odd dreams you have.

You remember the dream almost exactly but the woman was blurry in your memory, her face never fully visible and always changing so you could never quite get a clear grasp on her features. But there is one thing that you could recall; clear striking green eyes.

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Your second alarm spooked you out of your thoughts and you shook your head, silently erasing the dream like an Etch-a-Sketch. As you grabbed your clothes for your shower you remembered your late-night activity; scrolling through copious amounts of online videos, and deduced those were definitely a contributor to your weird dreams.

As you were opening your phone to set up your shower music you got a notification from one of your favorite news articles.

“Social Media’s New Craze! Meet Your #NumberNeighbor!”

You chuckled a bit, this new trend had been going crazy ever since some girl had found out she was number neighbors with a celebrity. No doubt everyone was trying to have the same lucky result as she did.

Even you had to admit over the past few days you’d been resisting the temptation to try it for yourself. But you were worried your number neighbor might be some sort of perv or weirdo that asked you for feet pics. However, with all the stories you’d been reading over the past few days of people finding new internet best friends, the temptation and curiosity were quickly becoming too much to bear. So to save yourself from curiosity overload you shrugged your shoulders and typed your number with one digit off into your phone.

Unknown Contact

Y/n: Hello!

It was simple, nothing fancy or weird for a first text, you didn’t want to scare them away by coming off as too strong. You could save the memes for the future- if there ever was one. There was no immediate response and you deflated after a few minutes, sometimes no one owned the other number, and a lot of the time people chose to ignore texts from random numbers.

You couldn’t really blame them honestly. Although, you also had to take into account that it was currently 7 AM and most people didn’t wake up at that hour on purpose… except for those who like to indulge in self-torture that is.

You got yourself ready for the day, taking a nice long warm shower (including having a shower concert) and making yourself a quick breakfast. You were seconds away from forking another bite of your syrupy waffle into your mouth when your phone chimed with a notification. You were a bit confused at the sight of a text notification, having forgotten about your spontaneous early morning decision, but as soon as the memory popped back into your head you were eagerly unlocking your phone and opening the message.

Unknown Contact

Unknown:

Hi? I’m sorry, who is this?

Y/n:

Right sorry, I realize now how weird just saying hi is

I’m your number neighbor!

Unknown:

What is that?

Y/n:

:0 You don’t know what a

number neighbor is?

Unknown:

No.

Y/n:

It’s where you text the number that’s one digit off of yours!

Unknown:

You expect me to believe that you got this number by coincidence?

Y/n:

Why? Are you some sort of celebrity?

If you don’t believe me just look at my number

it should be one digit different than yours.

You can even look it up online it’s super popular right now

Unknown:

huh

I guess you’re right

but I’m going to need you to lose this number

Y/n:

Aw, what? Why?

Unknown:

because it’s a very private number

Y/n:

Wait omg are you like the FBI or something?

Unknown:

or something.

Y/n:

That’s so cool!

Do you solve crimes like how they do in criminal minds?

Unknown:

You mean that crime show

on Netflix?

Y/n:

Yes! I’ve seen like all of the episodes a hundred times

Have you ever seen it?

Unknown:

can’t say that I have

Y/n:

You have to watch it! It’s sooo good

Unknown:

I guess I’ll have to take your word

seeing as you’ve seen it a hundred times

Y/n:

😳 ok so that miiiight have been an over exaggeration

Unknown:

I never would’ve guessed

Y/n:

Ha! So you do have a sense of humor!

Good to know

Oh shoot I’m gonna be late for work, It was really lovely texting you!

Byeee!

Unknown:

Bye.

You were smiling the whole drive to your work, sure they might be some sort of FBI secret service person but they seemed nice- not a dry texter at least, and it didn’t seem like they were too annoyed that you were texting them. You wanted to give them some space since they’d asked you to lose their number, and you completely understood their hesitation, but the excited feeling that settled in your stomach told you that you were not going to be able to resist texting them again.

Pt.2

A/n: I’m still contemplating this format but I think it’s better than pictures of text messages don’t you? Lmk :)

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goosewriting · 1 year

Text

Make me a caf

summary: Hux seemingly wants to keep you around after you fix his caf machine.

relationship: Armitage Hux x GN reader

warnings: (18+) making out, sexual tension

word count: 7.4k (this one got away from me... i blacked out and woke up to this. i have no other explanation lol)

A/N: 100% self indulgent. partially inspired by @wordborne’s fic Strictly Business, which is a story for inquisitor!Cal. i wonder what it is about redheads in black outfits that’s so appealing to me lmao

prompt used: they are absolutely losing it, they pin you against the wall, hands on either side of your face, eyes looking down, they say through gritted teeth, "This isn't easy for me. I-I've never--You matter to me. And, You deserve way better than someone like me--" They're cut off when you pull their collar closer, shaking your head, somehow not fazed by his gaze that's ripping you bare. "I deserve you--everything of you, I want it." (source, by @urfriendlywriter)

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — —

Life sure takes interesting turns sometimes. You started out as a mechanic on your home planet, then got drafted by the First Order to work on many projects, the latest being a new base on the planet Ilum, which was a very exclusive and secret project. So not only did you have to relocate for a long time while the base got built, but also in the little leave you got, you weren’t really allowed to talk to anyone.

But you decided a long time ago that’s an okay price to pay for an honestly more than decent pay. You also don’t have to pay for housing or food, you get your own quarters, all your equipment, and even a droid. So, not too shabby.

It’s been a while since you moved to Ilum now, and it’s a morning like any other. You’re the first to arrive at the workshop and your droid beeps at you, telling you that there’s a special request coming in asking for a mechanic. You ask your companion from where it comes and it projects a schematic of the base, with the room in question blinking.

You swallow hard as you realise that’s the part of the base where the captains and generals are housed. But the message was marked as urgent, and you’re the only one here right now, so you take your tools and nod to your droid to follow you.

It takes a while to navigate the labyrinth of hallways; it was pretty rare for the lower deck people to come to these parts. You have to look at your droid’s map a couple of times, but finally you make it to the right wing. Even the design of the walls is different here than it is in the other floors, it’s more sophisticated somehow.

You arrive at the room number indicated on the message and read the name on the plaque next to the door: it’s General Hux’s room. Great.

Luckily you didn’t have to deal with him personally, ever really, but you did hear the rumours, and they weren’t all too… nice. Sure, talks about Kylo Ren and his anger issues sounded worse in a way, but at least he lashed out from time to time. Hux donned you as the kind of person to be so emotionally constipated that he probably didn’t remember how to express anything else on his face except for contempt. In fact you’re pretty sure you’ve never seen the man smile.

Taking a deep breath, you knock on the door, and you’re startled as it opens almost immediately. In front of you towers none other than the General himself, sans his coat, eyeing you and your droid up and down.

“You’re late,” is all he says as he turns on his heel, and you follow him silently, deciding there’s no point in arguing to him about how he summoned you to basically the other side of the base out of the blue.

You try not to stare too much, but you can’t help taking in his room: it’s spacious, clean and tidy. There’s a main room with a couch, a chair and a caf table, and a small kitchen to the side with a breakfast nook attached to it. An open door leads to a space you can’t see, but you assume it’s a hallway to the bedroom and refresher. For a whole organisation that seems to love their sleek designs in black and red, his quarters sure are light, which in turn makes them seem bigger. The wall in the far back of the living room has a huge window reaching almost from floor to ceiling, letting in plenty of natural light, reflected on the planet’s snowy landscape.

When Hux clears his throat, you rip your eyes off the place and bring them back to him, where he stands in the kitchen with his arms crossed.

“The caf machine is broken,” is all he says, then moves past you in a way that only entitled people do, where they expect the other to move out of their way, and takes a seat on the couch, reading through his datapad.

“Right,” you say through gritted teeth, thinking back to all your diplomas and licences to repair heavy machinery, artillery, spaceships, yet here you are, fixing a caf machine.

With a sigh you approach the device and get to work. You find the problem quickly, and luckily it’s an easy fix. You stretch out your arm to your droid, asking for a tool which is handed to you with a happy beep, and finish the repair within minutes.

“All done, Sir,” you call to Hux.

“Test it to make sure,” he orders without looking up.

“...Sir?”

He sighs.

“Make me a caf,” he clarifies. His tone isn’t particularly condescending or mocking though, it’s just flat.

“Uhm, yes, Sir,” you respond, turn to the machine and all its buttons, then back to him. “How would you like your caf, Sir?”

“Surprise me,” he answers and goes back to scrolling through his datapad.

You blink a couple of times, turning back to the device. This is one of those higher end machines, you’ve never really operated one. And you don’t even know where he keeps his stuff.

As if he could read your mind at your lack of movement, he says, “Caf is in the pantry, mugs are in the cupboard above.”

You open said cupboard, finding a collection of plain, black mugs, as well as an electric grinder. In the pantry you see not just an overwhelming amount of different caf beans types, but also a whole barista set, with the little press and the whisky thing. You have never used any of these; all you know is that these sets are rather expensive. And this man apparently knows his caf, so why would he ask a random mechanic to prepare it for him?

Wondering how it is you come into ridiculous situations like this alarmingly often, you get to work, grinding the beans (you didn't know a grinder could be this silent), placing everything in the machine and starting it up. In the pantry you also find some other spices and creamer, but you reckon Hux is the kind of man to take his caf black, so you don’t put in any of the latter. Instead you add a little bit of… you don’t even know what kind of spice it is, as the little jar is unlabeled, but it smells good.

“All done, Sir,” you say as you walk up to him with the steaming mug.

He gestures to the caf table in front of him with his chin, and you’re about to place the mug down, but then see a little basket with coasters donning the First Order symbol. You pick one up and slide it under the mug.

“You can see yourself out,” is all Hux says, without looking at the mug or you.

You hesitate for a moment, not expecting to just be sent off like that. Wasn’t he even gonna try it? Wait… Why were you even waiting for a response? It’s not like you cared.

“Yes, Sir,” you bow lightly and turn on your heels, calling your droid and leaving.

On the whole walk back to your workshop, you wonder what the kriff just happened, and hope that you won’t have to deal with the General for a long time. He’s so weird.

The universe seems to be against you though, because it is only the next day when you arrive at the workshop, but this time you’re not alone. You’re the first mechanic, as for the next couple of rotations you have the early shift, but there’s a Stormtrooper waiting; that can’t mean anything good.

“Good morning, Trooper,” you greet them with a smile as you approach them. “Anything I can help you with?”

“Grab your tools and follow me,” the modulated voice orders. You pack your little bag while the Trooper just stares, then tell your droid to come, but they lift a hand.

“Leave the droid.”

You couldn’t be more confused, but you comply, telling your droid to stay. It beeps sadly and slowly rolls back around your table, where it will probably stay and wait for you to come back. You feel a little bad, but there’s nothing you can do.

The Trooper doesn’t say anything else as you follow them through the pristine halls, your steps echoing off the walls. Every now and then you have to jog a little to catch up with their hasty pace. Soon enough the route seems oddly familiar and you feel like you’re having a déjà-vu.

“Where are we going again?” you ask, even though you haven’t been told yet where the Trooper is taking you.

“General Hux called for you,” they explain.

Okay, now you are confused. You fixed his caf machine, even made him a fresh cup of it. What could he possibly still want?

The rest of the way to the General’s room is silent again, and once you arrive at the door, the Trooper knocks twice, then stands guard next to it. Again, the door opens comically quickly, as if Hux had been behind it waiting the whole time. The thought makes you smile to yourself, and you try to suppress it the best you can.

“Ah, good, you found the mechanic,” Hux says, nodding to the Trooper, who nods back and leaves the way you came from.

“What can I do for you today, Sir?” you ask as you find yourself walking into his quarters again.

This time he has you following him through the hallway to the refresher, where he points at a flickering light.

“Fix it,” he orders and leaves.

Is this some sort of twisted game where he would have you do menial tasks every day? Is the First Order targeting you? Just what in the world is going on, you think, dropping your bag of tools onto the floor with more force than necessary. I have more urgent work to do.

Heaving a silent sigh, you inspect the light. Just as you thought, all it needed was to be screwed in tighter into its socket, and the flickering stopped.

Picking up your bag from the floor, you walk into the hallway. The door to his room is open and you steal a tiny peek inside. His bed is huge! Sure must be comfy…

“All done, Sir,” you report as you come to stand beside him.

“Excellent. Now,” he says as he leaves his datapad on the couch and stands up, taking a step towards you, towering over you. Instinctively you take a step back, and the tiniest of smiles appears on his freckled face. Huh, you hadn’t noticed before that he has freckles.

“Make me a caf,” he orders.

“Sir,” you start, averting your gaze from his piercing one. “With all due respect, you have a functioning caf machine right there. I don’t see why my presence is needed.”

He narrows his eyes at you.

“How did you prepare the caf yesterday?” he asks.

Oh Maker, he probably hated it, you think as you tighten your grip on the strap of your bag.

“Uhm, I…” you hate yourself for stumbling over your words. You bet he’s getting a kick out of this. “Was it not to your liking Sir? If so, I apologise–”

“That was the best damn caf I’ve had in a long time,” he interrupts you, and you can only look up at him in surprise. “How did you prepare it?”

“I made a… I think it’s called a blend?” you try your darndest to remember just what you did yesterday when you experimented with the ingredients in the pantry. “I used beans from two different packs. They seemed like they would go well together… Sir.”

Why did you even do that? You have no idea. You’re also pretty sure you added one of the spices.

“Interesting,” Hux remarks, leaning back to stand at his full height. You didn’t even notice he was leaning in so close to you.

You kinda just stand in place, waiting for further instructions, while his eyes seem to burn through your very soul, his face unreadable.

“Then, surprise me again, mechanic,” he orders, and walks back to the couch.

You gulp for what you’re about to say, but you don’t like how he calls you ‘mechanic’ like it’s a derogatory term.

“Actually, Sir, it’s…” you say and pause, waiting for him to turn to you, and then you tell him your name.

He repeats it, as if testing out how it sounds, and you reprimand yourself internally for the beat your heart just skipped when you heard him say it.

Hux turns his attention back to the datapad, and you quickly make your way into the kitchen, leaving your bag on one of the stools.

Once more you find yourself in front of the pantry, and you get to work. You sniff the different caf packets, trying to understand anything from the colourfully worded descriptions on the back. With a shrug, you just follow your nose like you did last time, and grind up two different kinds of beans, this time without any spices, and let the machine do the rest.

Once it’s ready, you bring it to the caf table, where a coaster is already waiting this time. You place down the mug and bring your hands behind your back, waiting to be dismissed.

But instead, Hux takes the mug into his hand, blowing softly on it, and takes a sip. All without breaking eye contact with you. He waits a couple of seconds and hums. You hope that’s a good thing.

“Interesting choice,” he remarks, looking into the dark liquid reflecting the room’s lights in ripples. “You’re dismissed.”

“Sir,” you excuse yourself with the same bow as yesterday, grab your bag, and leave his quarters.

You take a quick look at the time on your datapad and curse under your breath as you’re gonna be late for the second rotation in a row, and speed up your pace.

This whole spiel goes on for almost two weeks: Hux sends someone to retrieve you from the workshop early in the morning, has you do some menial task as an excuse for calling you, then orders you to make him caf. The feedback you get for your results is sparse at best, usually only one or two words. But you did notice that he has a preference for one type of blend mixed with a certain spice. You even went as far as looking up more things to spice caf up with on the holonet, trying to apply it to the ingredients in his pantry.

The more time you spend in his room, the more he opens up little by little as well. At first you’d work in silence. Then he’d sit on the stools by the kitchen instead of the couch, doing some work. Then he’d put down the datapad to watch you work, and it even came as far as doing smalltalk. Once he even asked you for your input regarding a technical matter in his work, where you caught a glimpse of some schematics of something huge. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you curious to know what he was working on.

As ridiculous as this whole situation was, not only did you find yourself looking forward to seeing a Trooper every morning, but you made it your goal to make a caf that would blow Hux’s socks right off.

It’s shortly after the two week mark of this whole thing that you’re on your way to the workshop, expecting to see a Trooper to pick you up, but the place is actually empty, save for your co-worker who’s on the early shift. You greet your droid, who beeps happily at your arrival, and you look around.

“Did anyone come by, buddy?” you ask, and get a negative beep-boop.

When you ask the other mechanic, she also says it’s been just her until now.

Huh, weird. No, wait, hold on a minute – why are you even expecting to get summoned in the first place? You can finally catch up on all the work you’re behind on because of the little “caf-scapades”, as you’ve been calling them.

“Alright, let’s get to work,” you tell your droid and pat it a couple of times. “There’s a lot to do.”

The nagging feeling that something is wrong doesn’t leave you though, in fact, the more time passes, the stronger it seems to get. By the end of your shift, you wonder if you should pay the General a visit out of your own volition. But you decide against it, after all he could be on a mission somewhere, or maybe he was busy today. Either way, it’s none of your business.

You wrap up for the day and finish cleaning your workstation, get your dinner, and not long after, find yourself getting ready for bed. After a quick shower, you change into a tank top and shorts, your go-to sleepwear. You’re glad that despite the harsh outside conditions, the living quarters are well heated.

Just as you’re lifting the blanket to get into your bed, you hear your datapad beep twice: a message. You wonder who it could be this late at night.

With a sigh, you make your way to the table and pick up the device, squinting at the light in your already dark room. You almost drop it to the floor when you see the message: “Come now. Alone.” It’s from an unknown sender, but marked as urgent: it’s gotta be from Hux. You glance at the time and roll your eyes. Of course he would have you on a regular trip to his room every morning for half a month, then suddenly stop, only to call you to his room in the middle of the night. Just what is this guy’s deal?!

You look down at yourself and sigh. This isn’t how you want the General to see you, at least not right now. Not yet. Perhaps.

You don’t really own any civilian clothes, as you’re always in the base. The only non overall kind of clothing you have is a First Order uniform, but that one is only ever really used for official events or gatherings. Plus it’s rather stiff.

All your coveralls are currently either covered in grease and/or smell of engine oil. Besides, you don’t wanna wear those over your PJs. So you grab the next best option, which is the summer version of the coveralls you almost never use because they have short sleeves, and it’s mandatory to wear long sleeves and gloves in most of the hangars and workshops. They’re clean at least, so you quickly jump into them, not even bothering to zip it up all the way, slip into your boots and head out.

Walking down the hallways to the military wing of the base at this time of night is strange; for some reason there’s more Troopers and people out and about than in the early mornings. They give you a strange side-eye when walking past you, but no one seems to question your presence at least.

When you finally make it to Hux’s room, you lift your hand to knock, but hesitate.

Why would he call you out here at this hour anyways? On one side you expect him to tell you that he’s grown tired and bored of you. On the other side you know he wouldn’t do that, not like this at least.

All day, ever since not being picked up by a Trooper, you’ve been plagued by this little voice in your head. A nagging feeling that was disguised as a strange curiosity to know where the caf-scapades would bring you two in terms of getting to know each other, yet you knew that beneath it was genuine worry for the General. He doesn’t contact you all day, then suddenly messages you (which means he went out of his way to get your contact information, since you hadn’t given it to him), and here you are, running to him the second he calls you.

You grimace at the thought, or rather the realisation, that you actually came to… like the General.

He has a weird sense of humour, and isn’t good at expressing how he feels. But if you look closely enough, you can recognise the subtle changes in his face that give away his thoughts. You can’t deny that he is very handsome, but you’re also aware that he can be a dangerous man. You’ve heard enough stories of what he and Ren have done and are capable of. And yet… There's something about his presence, like he’s surrounded by this air full of purpose and confidence, that you can’t help being pulled towards him.

So yeah, you’re intrigued by him. And you want to see more.

Taking a deep breath, you knock on the door in the pattern you usually do.

But the door stays closed.

Suddenly it dawns on you that you didn’t actually know for sure who sent the message. What if it wasn’t Hux, and something happened to him? What if he was hurt and this was all a trap?

You hold your breath, tilting your ear towards the door, trying to hear if there’s anyone at all in there, when you suddenly hear a groan from the other side.

You’re about to call out to Hux but stop yourself. You’re sure it was a groan right, and not a… moan? You feel heat rising to your cheeks at the thought.

Shaking away the images threatening to flood your brain, you knock again. You really hope you’re not interrupting anything.

This time the groan is louder, clearly pained, and it’s calling your name.

“Sir?” you ask, now definitely worried for his well-being, all other theories thrown out the window.

Suddenly, the door whooshes open, but there’s no one in front of it. Instead, you see the remote aimed at the entrance (so that’s how he opened the door so quickly), held by a Hux who’s half hanging from the couch onto the floor.

“General!” you call, close the door behind you and rush to his side.

Hux is only wearing his trousers; his shirt, jacket and belt are strewn on the floor. He probably was trying to get dressed or change, but collapsed. You grab his arms to pull him up, and you get to sit him down properly on the couch. His face is flushed all the way down to his neck, clearly running a fever. Your hand shoots up to touch his forehead and he’s burning. He weakly swats your hand away and winces in pain, his eyes shut tightly, and you feel your own gaze travelling down his jaw to his collarbones, to all the freckles covering his shoulders and pecs.

Forcing yourself to tear away your eyes, you shake his shoulder lightly.

“Sir, you need to go to bed and rest,” you tell him.

“I- I was… trying,” he huffs between heavy breaths, his eyes meeting your own in what you guess was meant to be a glare, but they lack their usual intensity.

“Lean onto me,” you instruct, pulling him up by an arm and throwing it over your shoulder. You feel how he’s fighting to slump all of his weight on you, and get moving.

It takes a while and Hux almost falls to the floor twice, but you make it to his room, where he lets himself fall onto the bed. You rush to the refresher, where you remember seeing a first aid kit, and bring it back to the room. You help him take off his boots and lift the blanket for him to climb into the bed, tucking him in once he’s settled. Then you sit down on the edge of the bed and start unpacking the kit. A cold patch goes to his forehead and you take his temperature, which is way too high.

“I’m gonna give you a stim, okay?” you warn him as you take it out of the kit, pulling the blanket down a little so you can apply it. You stick it below his collarbone in a quick motion, and he hisses.

“There, there,” you coo and can’t help but smile. He grunts as he places his forearm over his face, and you pull the blanket back up properly.

After packing everything into the kit and putting it to the side, you go to the kitchen to get a cup of water. Back in the room, you hand Hux some pills and the cup, and he downs it all without even asking what it is and with no snarky remark, which makes you feel even worse for him; the fever must be really bad.

You’re still sitting at his side, taking in his state and wondering what else you can do, when a question pops into your head.

“Why did you call me, General?” you ask him, and he peeks at you from under his arm. “Shouldn’t you have gotten a nurse or a medical droid?”

“Didn’t get my caf today,” he rasps.

“Oh, so it’s my fault you came down with a fever?” you retort playfully. He nods, and you can’t help but laugh a little.

“So now I gotta make up for my mistake?” you add, and he nods again. You exhale through your nose with a smile. “Well, General, I did all I can do for you. I’m gonna go get a medical droid–”

But before you can stand up, his hand shoots up to grab your wrist, yanking you back down.

“Armitage,” he whispers, blinking a couple of times, trying to focus his eyes on you.

“Sir–” is all you get out, trying to loosen his grip on your wrist.

“Call me Armitage,” he repeats, louder this time, eyes suddenly full of an intensity you didn’t know he had left in his state.

“Sir, I can’t– You’re–” you whimper in pain as his grip tightens around you even more. “You’re hurting me, Armitage.”

Hux looks up at you a moment longer, then down at his hand, and suddenly lets go, as if he only now realised what he was doing.

“I– I didn’t mean to…” he mumbles as his hand hesitantly reaches up to your wrist again, but much gentler this time. His fingers ghost over the irritated skin, taking your hand in his larger one, and bringing it to his mouth to kiss your knuckles.

“Stay the night,” he orders, and you feel like your heart, brain, lungs – everything just stops working altogether.

“Gener–” you start but his brows furrow in a warning glare, so you correct yourself. “Armitage, I really shouldn’t. I can’t.”

Not when you’re like this, at least, you add in your mind.

“I won’t do anything, I promise,” he assures you, his face softening, but eyes still as intense. “Just stay by my side.”

Your eyes fall to your hand still in his, and you feel him give you a squeeze. After a moment, you return it. You’re aware that this can end in one of two ways: it’s either the start of something very interesting, or the end of your career as you know it. Are you really about to risk it all for some fun?

“Okay,” you finally give in, and he sighs in relief.

Hux pats the space next to him in his enormous bed, and you walk over to the other side of it, lying down on top of the blanket. He holds your hand again and closes his eyes, starting to drift off.

– – – – –

The next morning, Hux wakes up to a dull pang of pain behind his eyes. He squints as he takes in his surroundings. When did he get to bed? Did he forget to close the blinds last night? Sitting up in the bed, he sees the patch from his forehead fall into his lap. Did he get that himself from the refresher? Why can’t he remember anything from last night?

He throws his legs over the edge of the bed, seeing that he’s still wearing his uniform’s trousers. On the nightstand is a glass of water and some pills which he assumes to be aspirin. He downs it, drinking the whole thing. Why is he so thirsty?

His eyes travel over the bed when he realises that not only is the other side ruffled, as if someone had slept there, but there’s some mechanic’s overalls neatly folded at the end of the bed too. He freezes, racking his brain for any events of the night prior, but it’s all a blur.

Suddenly he hears some clinking sounds from the kitchen. Sniffing the air he also smells food. Just as he’s about to get up to investigate, you come walking through the door, and his heart skips several beats. You’re only wearing a tank top and shorts, showing much more skin than he’d ever seen from you, and he immediately decides that he likes what he sees.

“Oh, you’re up,” you say, coming to a halt just as you pass the door, suddenly very self-conscious of how his eyes are essentially eating you up. “I made breakfast, and caf. Are you feeling any better?”

He doesn’t answer, instead looking down at the floor. You being here, dressed like this, does that mean that last night you two…? And if so, why couldn’t he remember any of it?!

Given his lack of response, you walk around the bed and stand in front of Hux, looking at him with worry.

“Hey, are you okay?” you ask, your hand coming up to his forehead. You sigh in relief when you notice his fever is almost gone, but you don’t miss how he tenses up at your touch. So if he’s back to normal again… “A-Armitage?”

Hux straightens up suddenly at the use of his name, and looks at you with a ferocity you hadn’t seen before. You instinctively take a step back, and immediately regret it when you see the hurt cross his face for a split second. Hux’s eyes fall and go to your hand which had just been on his forehead moments ago. A scowl spreads on his face as he carefully takes your wrist and brings it up to his face to inspect the bruising that spreads from the back of your hand to almost the middle of your forearm.

“Who did this to you?” he asks through gritted teeth, clearly upset.

“You did,” you answer, and he looks up at you in disbelief. “You don’t… remember anything from last night?”

“I don’t,” he groans, and when he looks back up at you, his ears burn in the cutest shade of pink. “Since I don’t remember, I have to ask… Did we… last night?”

Your cheeks get set ablaze as you shake your head, biting your lip. When he sighs in relief, you feel your heart sink momentarily, but it resumes its erratic beating with his next words.

“I’d hate myself if something happened and I didn’t remember it the next day,” he’s quick to clarify, still not letting go of your hand. “And about this… I’m sorry.”

You don’t think that apologies are something that comes easy to Hux, so you know you should just take it as such and shut up, but you can’t help your blabbering, trying to make him feel better for some reason.

“Don’t worry about it, I bruise easily,” you say with a sheepish smile. “Besides, I’ve had worse. I’ll survive.”

“Worse?” Hux asks, concerned for you and at the same time enraged at the thought of someone else hurting you.

“Yeah, look at this,” you reply, removing your hand from his to lift your shirt up a little, while the other pulls down the hem of your shorts ever so slightly, to show him a scar that goes from above your hip bone up and around your ribcage. “This one I got from when an engine fell on me.”

So you meant work accidents and not someone else laying a hand on you. Hux feels the earlier rage dissipate as he takes in your scar, and the way you so easily bared yourself to him.

Being pulled towards him by your hips, you watch in complete shock when Hux places the softest of kisses on your scar, then traces it with his fingers. He’s so close, you wonder if he can hear your heart pounding against your ribcage.

“Shall we get breakfast then?” he asks, suddenly very matter-of-factly, and stands up. “Wouldn’t want the caf to get cold after all.”

Hux walks past you to the wardrobe, getting out of your sight as he stands behind the open door. You take a moment to control your breathing and imagination, then walk towards the kitchen.

When he joins you on the stools, you notice he changed into more comfortable clothes, and you pass him his mug and a plate of eggs and bacon.

“I can also make some porridge if you think you’d stomach that better?” you offer.

“This is perfect,” he retorts, and starts eating.

You prop your hand on your elbow for a second, just taking in this moment which seems… strangely domestic. And peaceful. It feels like something you could get used to.

Snapping back to reality, you check the time on the microwave, and scramble to your feet.

“Ah, kriff! I’m so late!” you start running back and forth, gathering your things. You quickly slip into your overalls and jump into your boots without even tying them up. You appear once more next to Hux, who’s still calmly enjoying his breakfast.

“You better take the day off. I don’t want to see you around, you hear me?” you tell him, pointing at him with a scolding finger. “Drink plenty of water and stay in bed, okay? Message me if anything comes up.”

Before you realise what you’re doing, you place a quick kiss to his cheek, say your goodbyes and dash out the door, leaving a very perplexed Hux in the kitchen.

It’s only as you’re rushing down the halls that you realise not only what you’ve done but also how this must look to the passers-by: someone getting out of a high ranking officer’s room with rather dishevelled hair, not having even put on your clothes properly. You swallow your pride though, ignoring all the looks you get, and run as fast as you can to your room to get changed.

When you finally make it to the workshop, it’s no surprise to see your supervisor there, and he’s fuming. You try to sneak by to your workstation somehow, but he sees you and calls you over to his office, where he gives you an earful about impunctuality and responsibility and yadda yadda yadda. Then he goes on about how highly irregular this behaviour is from you since you’ve always been a diligent worker, and you better think twice before not appearing for work next time.

You bite your tongue and let it all pass over you. As long as you finish your work within the deadline, there’s no real risk here.

When your boss finally lets you go, you rush to your droid and get to work immediately. The next couple of rotations you’re immersed in your job, taking shift after shift to catch up on everything you still have to get done. In all this time, there’s no messages from Hux, and you’re glad, because you would probably say things to him that you’d regret later if you saw him right now. Getting so behind schedule in the first place is kind of his fault. Sure, you never told him that you were losing precious hours of work, but you didn’t think it’d get this far. That you would come to enjoy his company and hope he enjoyed yours, to the point where he had asked you to spend the night.

So, right now, you don’t want to see him, not until after the deadline. But the universe has other plans for you yet again, as it is the day before it that you see Hux again.

You had told him he should message you. He could have gone and sent a Trooper for you like last time. But no, what does this guy do? Comes to get you personally.

If it wasn’t for your droid, you wouldn’t even have seen him coming because you’re currently head-first inside a cockpit, trying to reach some cables. But its beeps alert you, and you spring up so hastily that you hit your head on the dashboard.

With a hiss and rubbing over the spot you just hit, you get out of the ship, where Hux and two of his Troopers are waiting.

“General Hux,” you greet with a polite smile, “What can I do for you?”

“Come with me,” he orders, and for a moment you look at him in disbelief.

Just what is he getting at now? No greeting, no nothing? Just ordering you around again, in front of your crew? Making you lose even more hours of work? Oh, two can play that game.

“No,” you retort after a scoff.

He comes to a halt and turns around slowly, his eyes narrowed at you in a warning glare.

“I beg your pardon?” he asks, his whole body language telling you to measure your next words very carefully, but instead, you slightly lift your chin in a defiant gesture.

“Then beg.”

Hux curls his fists at his side, and the Troopers lift their blasters to aim at you, but he lifts one hand, and they lower their weapons, but not without giving each other a look behind the General.

At this point the whole workshop is so silent, you’re sure you’d be able to hear a needle drop onto the metallic floor. Even the TIE fighters in the hangars around you seem to roar more silently.

“I am the General in charge of this base and you will listen to me!” he suddenly yells, and you avert your eyes. You can’t believe he just pulled rank on you.

Letting the tool you were holding fall into the toolbox with a clank, you walk up to him, still not looking him in the eyes.

He slightly shakes his head at you, then turns on his heels and heads for the hallway, with you in tow and the Troopers at the end.

Hux takes a different route than expected; instead of taking you to his quarters, which are pretty far away, he heads to the office wing, finding an empty conference room and getting in. He slams the button on the panel for the blinds, and the inner windows dividing the room and the hallway go dark.

“No interruptions,” he instructs the Troopers through gritted teeth, then closes the door.

You find yourself in the rather dark room now, alone, with a seemingly very angry General. He suddenly turns around and takes quick steps towards you, pushing you back against the conference table and trapping you between his arms.

“Don’t you dare defy me like that again in front of the others,” he threatens you.

“Defy you?” you say with a wry smile, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “You don’t get to order me around like your Stormtroopers. You can ask nicely, you know? Or just, I don’t know, like a normal person?”

He groans, slamming his fist onto the table, which startles you. You don’t like this attitude at all, so you push him back and take a step to the side.

“General– No, Armitage,” you try softening him up by using his name, and it seems to be working. “What even are we?”

He starts walking towards you again, slowly backing you up against the wall this time.

“If this is just a game to you, then–” you start, your hands on his chest in an attempt to push him off, but you don’t actually put any strength into it because you know what you actually want. So you let yourself be pushed further, your heart pounding with every step backwards you take. “Then let’s just stop right here. But if you’re serious about this, you need to tell me, please…”

By now, Hux is absolutely losing it, and he finally pins you against the wall, hands on either side of your face, eyes looking down into yours.

"This isn't easy for me,” he says through gritted teeth. “I– I've never– You matter to me. And, maybe you deserve better than someone like me–"

He’s cut off when you pull him closer by the collar, shaking your head, somehow not fazed by his gaze that's ripping you bare.

"I deserve you– everything of you, I want it,” you breathe.

With that, Hux’s last thread of self-control snaps, and he presses his body against yours, smashing his lips on yours. The kiss is heated, sloppy and messy, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Finally you’re able to show just how much you’ve been longing for each other.

The General slips his hands under your thighs, pulling you up against the wall. You gasp in surprise and he uses that to press his tongue against yours. You hook your ankles behind him, both your hands roaming each other in desperation.

When you finally break for air, you’re panting, but Hux attacks your neck next, and he’s relentless. He spends what feels like an eternity and yet nowhere near enough kissing, biting, licking every inch of your skin he can reach. You’re sure the grip of his hands on your legs will leave bruises again, but this time you find yourself looking forward to them.

Once Hux seems satisfied, he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his shoulders rising and falling quickly with his ragged breathing.

“When you showed me that scar,” he whispers against your skin. “I thought I was gonna take you then and there.”

He leans his head back only enough to look at you, and the intensity of his eyes sends a shudder to your very bones.

“I’ll map every inch of your skin, every scar, mole and freckle, and mark it up. I want all of you,” he growls, and you’re not sure if it’s supposed to be a threat or a promise; you’re just glad that he’s holding you in place because your knees have long since given out.

You cup his face, and bring him in for another kiss. This time it’s much slower, gentler, but just as deep.

“I’d like that,” you breathe into his lips, and he smiles.

When he finally lets you down, you have to hold onto Hux because of how wobbly your legs are.

“You good?” he asks, his hands on the underside of your arms to hold you.

“Yeah,” you reassure him, and have to choke back a laugh when you look up at him.

“What?” he questions with an amused little smile.

“Come here, lemme fix your hair. You’re quite a mess,” you say, and he leans down so you can smooth out his hair as best as you can.

“Well, you should see yourself,” he chuckles as he returns the favour.

Once you’re both more or less presentable, you walk to the door. Before Hux opens it though, he takes your hand one last time in his and brings it to his lips, kissing your knuckles.

“See you tonight?” he asks, hopeful.

“Can’t wait,” you say with a wink.

– – – – –

Bonus:

When you make it back to your table in the workshop with a dreamy look on your face, your co-worker brings her hand to her mouth with a gasp.

“What?” you ask her, looking around in surprise, trying to find the source of her horror.

“Really? The General?!” she whisper-shouts, gesturing to you to follow her.

She guides you to the little supply closet at the end of the workshop and rummages in a box for a clean rag.

“What do you mean? Was it so obvious?” you ask, your cheeks still ablaze from before.

“Obvious?” she repeats rhetorically, handing you the rag and a little pocket mirror. “Honey, you can see those hickeys all the way from Coruscant.”

“Wait, what?” you blurt out and look into the mirror. Sure enough, the General made sure you won’t be able to walk around the base without a turtleneck for several rotations. He went absolutely ham.

“Gha!” you shriek, tying the rag around your neck like a scarf. “I’m gonna kill him!”

#goose feathers #hux x reader #general hux x reader #armitage hux x reader #sw hux x reader #star wars x reader

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funtimefloof · 1 year

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Helping (T)eddie Bear

Eddie Munson x plussize!fem!Reader

a/n: I'm currenly on my period and I wanna pass away, the last time it was this painful was 2020 :') I felt the need to write about Eddie taking care of reader during her menstruation. I needed some Eddie comfort. (I'll apologize if he seems a little oc, I tried my best) This is kinda self indulgent, that's why plussize :P

Warnings: tiny blood stain, menstruation, period cramps of agony, lots of fluff and maybe a little cheesy......I got carried away

Wc: 1.7k

!Not proofread!

Agony is one way to describe how I felt, the other way I'd describe it would be that Michael Myers went completely havoc in my uterus.

I shot up from my pillow, my eyes ripped open, before I squeezed them close again, feeling the dreadful feeling in my lower stomach.

That could only mean one thing. As fast as I could I stood up and hurried to the bathroom and just like expected; I got my period.

As sight of frustration left my dry lips. I cleaned myself up and went back to my bedroom, hoping the mess on my bed wouldn't be too serious. Thank fuck, it only was a little stain which would wash out easily.

So I pulled off the mattress cover, went to my bathroom to wash the stain first, before I threw it into the washing machine.

The second I got to my bedroom again, a harsh pain snapped through my lower body, causing me to almost fall as my knees felt like jelly.

Regaining my strength I made my way to the kitchen and went over to the telephone on the wall, before dialing the number. I was out of painkillers, so the only thing that came to mind, was to call him.

It rang and rang, but nobody picked up. Sighting, I hung up the telephone and was already on my way back to my room, before the clear ringing tone of the telephone caugh me off guard. I shuffled over, grabed it and immediately heard the groggy, sleepy voice of the person I adore the most.

"Hey, is everything alright, my love? You're usually not awake this late at night. " He sounded tired, which made me start to feel bad. "Hi, sorry, I didn't mean to wake you...." My voice wavered a little as a small tear went down my cheek. He seemed to notice that my voice was off somehow "God, baby no, you didn't wake me, I already woke up a few minutes ago, to go take a piss."

I could hear right through his lie, but decided to not question it any further, cause I didn't want it to end up in a discussion.

He broke the silence again, noticing that I stayed quiet as he just heard almost inaudible sniffs coming from the other line "What's wrong, love? Are you alright?" the concern in his voice was evident, so I quickly replied "Can you please come over? I need you right now."

Hearing the desperation in my trembling voice, he replied without hesitation "I'll be there in 3, love." As fast as he answered, the loud beep on the other line, singalised that he hung up right after, so I did the same.

Leaning against the wall next to it, I took a sharp intake of air, before small whimpers and cries left my throat as tiny tears went past my eyes. The pain was so uncomfortable and highly unnecessary at this time of night, I thought.

Not even 3 minutes passed and a few rushed knocks were heard at the front door of my trailer. Leaving my spot on the wall, I went over and opened the door, meeting the eyes of my favourite person.

As soon as he saw my tear stained face his gaze softened a little. He stepped into the trailer, closed the door behind him and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into him.

"It hurts so bad, Eds." my voice was muffled due to me being snuggled tightly in Eddie's embrace. Softly stoking my head he let out a small humm, before backing away a tiny bit and leaving a loving kiss on my forehead.

Having already figured out the cause of my pain, he let his hands start to wander and before he had to chance to try and lift me, I stopped him in his tracks "Don't."

"Why, what's the matter?" The stroking motions of his hands on my arms made me melt down into his embrace once again as the cold metal on his fingers gave me a weird but calming feeling. What did I do to deserve this man? He's always such an angel to me.

"I'm to heavy...." As soon as those words left my mouth, he cupped my cheeks with his ring adorned hands and looked deep into my glassy eyes. His expression showed confusion, but at the same time his beautiful brown button like eyes radiated warmth, comfort and reassurance.

"My love-" He took a deep breath, while caressing my face, wiping the new coming tears away "I don't want to hear you talk down on yourself, ever again." He started to leave butterfly kisses on every inch of my face "You, my love, are the most precious creature I've ever laid my eyes on. The only things supposed to leave those pretty lips of yours are, only positive things about yourself and the sounds of pleasure that I get out of you, alright?"

I suppose he tried to brighten my mood with the last statement, which he definitely succeeded with as a quiet giggle left me right after. Sneaky Fox.

Without a warning he picked me up bridal style, which caused me to squeak as I felt my feet lift up from the floor, before he carried me towards my bedroom.

Gently he eased me onto the bed, quickly threw off his leather jacket and his shoes, before climbing in next to me.

My arms sneaked around his torso, while I slowly tried to hook one of my legs around his, trying not to put too much weight on him at once, but he just grabbed my thigh like it was nothing and hiked it up. Once again I snuggled my head into his chest and took a whiff of his scent. My quiet humming vibrated against his chest, while he was lovingly stroking my head again.

I could still feel my insides being ripped apart, but I tried to keep my emotions down, because I wanted to enjoy this moment with him, being held in his arms. We stayed like this for a little while, just existing in this moment together as two people who were so undoubtedly in love with each other.

Sooner or later the pain has gotten to a point where I just couldn't keep quiet anymore, so I just hoped that Eddie couldn't hear my silent whimpers of agony. Despite my fragile attempts, he noticed "Baby, if there's anything you need, just talk to me. I'm right here. Let me know if there is anything you want me to help with."

I silently started crying again, before I broke the silence "Christ, I'm such a sensitive bitch, crying over the littlest things. And you? You're such an angel, so calm and reassuring. Do you have any idea how much my heart hurts just knowing you're the most perfect human that I could've ever asked for in my life?" before I could continue with my rant he interrupted me with a small kiss.

"Love, as much as I love you throwing compliments at me, periods make you sappy. You know, I'm far from perfect. You on the other side? The best and most perfect person." His comment made me look at him with puppy dog eyes before I tightened my arms around him and started to cuddle the hell out of him.

"You are my personal Teddie bear, you know that?" He just chuckled at my statement, before slowly removing his arms around me and smirking down at me.

With a last peck to my cheek he shot out of bed and left the room. Since it was just getting comfortable I was confused for a second, till he returned some minutes later with a cup of chocky milk (cause chocky milk makes pain go away, yk?) and a glass of water.

After he set the things on the bedside table, he crawled onto the bed again, but this time instead of taking his place next to me, he placed himself at the bottom part of the bed, before slowly starting to lift my legs. I was curious about his actions, so I let him continue. He then shimmied closer, with his knees on the mattress, before he laid my thighs on top of his.

With eyes full of love and adoration Eddie glanced at me, his hands on my hips, as if he was asking for permission to continue. I couldn't deny his sweet face, so I gave in.

He started lifting up the v neck sweater I was wearing, but stopped halfway. The soft touch of his hands ghosted over my belly, while the cold metal of his rings gave me slight shivers.

Not even a minute later, he was using a little more pressure as his hands went a tiny bit lower. In return of his actions he got to hear a relieved sigh. Suddenly his hands switched positions from my torso to my thighs. He kept on kneading them in nice circular motions, before he switched back to massage my lower stomach.

From time to time he switched between those two areas, sometimes leaning over and leaving soft butterfly kisses on my collarbones and my cleavage.

During the time he was handling my body with utmost care I was able to drink my choky milk. Sometimes I'd hiss if he went a little to deep, but as soon as he'd notice he would go softer again.

In the middle of the procedure he began to hum along to my favourite song which, along with the massage I was getting from him, made me really sleepy.

The only thing I could remember before falling asleep is Eddie leaving a loving kiss on my lips "Good night, baby. I love you"

I don't know how much time passed, when I opened my eyes again, but it was still dark outside. Eddie laid next to me, snoring slightly with the moon illuminating his face and I couldn't help but to admire him. I lightly touched the side of his face, hoping he wouldn't wake up "I love you too"

A small smile graced my features before I cuddled myself into him and fell asleep with the help of his breath's calm movement. Two hearts beating as one.

(small nsfw extra)

Imagine Eddie massaging your thighs and your tummy, while fucking into you with a nice rhythm, during your period, because he heard somewhere, that it helps with period cramps ;) (Steve told him)

(not @ me finishing this, on the last day of my period lol. writing takes forever).

Please if you noticed any mistakes, make sure to let me know, so I can change it. ^^

#stranger things eddie #stranger things s4 #st s4 #eddie munson x plus size reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munsons fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut

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azurecrystalz · 11 months

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i would not be a beeP/nikiP if i didn’t talk about how perfect niki’s solo is for him so here’s a thread on yummy tummy love + the concept and how it connects to niki i have a lot of thoughts so bear with me HDKDH

also this was originally supposed to be in the form of. a twitter thread but we all know the shit show that’s happening there so tumblr gets first look :3 !!

first off before i start go give the preview a quick listen, a quick tl i did for the lyrics is here (i don’t know how to spoiler imgs on tumblr so just forgive me i guess LMAO)

so lemme just talk about the topic first! it could have been incredibly easy for niki’s solo to be about just cooking or eating since he does both, but niki’s solo is abt //serving// specifically and there’s a huge difference that i will explain!

think of it like a balance like i drew below! cooking is where the cook is happiest, eating is where the receiver is happiest, but serving is the moment where there’s a connection between both and the cook is happy to give and the consumer is happy to take !!

niki’s opinion on being an idol essentially flipped on its head from when he started out until now, from not prioritizing it much to realizing after hot limit that he could be both an idol and a cook and balance both occupations!

he talks a lot about how he wishes he could be able to cook for his audience but it’s not physically possible, then he acknowledges that being an idol can get him close enough to that which makes sense! i’ll explain:

the cooking->eating process is similar in a sense to a performance process! think of it the way i drew it here! and if you notice here, serving and performing are in the similar “middle ground” of the process!

niki in a sense is “serving” a performance to his fans! its when both him //and// his audience are the happiest! a nutritional niki smile for the heart for sure GDJSH but that’s just all about what i think of the concept! i also have thoughts on why it really does him justice and really helps put his personality in the spotlight!

niki is an incredibly caring and giving character, and being a cook really highlights this. he doesn’t think twice to help others and putting them before himself + most importantly he doesn’t expect or want anything in return

it’s something that he derives happiness from, his love language basically! making other people happy through his dishes, something he really puts his entire being and pride into, is what makes him happy

he understands a feeling of self consciousness that can come from being judged and even says so in his lyrics, and there’s stories that imply that he’s experienced judgement from others before (most notably a quick hint in ariadne) not to mention it would explain his lower sense of self esteem

i mentioned it before on twitter but “どうぞ”/“dozo” (in the context of serving could mean “please go ahead/don’t hesitate”) being the loudest and most prominent part of the chorus is such a. wonderful thing to add for niki HSKSH

his solo (given what we have of the preview ver) is such a loving, kind, and gratuitous message that he won’t judge anyone if they want to over-indulge themselves, and will be more than happy to help indulge them

did the end of that last paragraph sound familiar? if you’re a crazybP it should HKSHS niki’s personality, his policy is helping ppl with what they want without judging them, and living a happy life of “indulge now, worry later” is so important not only to his development, but to his involvement with crazyb as a whole.

crazyb is a unit that celebrates a free life, of being able to do what they want and laugh happily tgt without judgement, and nikis character is //exactly// that. so much so that kohaku even says in romantic date that the rest of crazyb should exemplify him (tl by moi)

niki is such a wonderful character HKSHSK i cannot wait for the full ver for his solo genuinely i’m so happy that they treated niki this well with his solo HDKHS

here’s an obligatory updated countdown <3

sorry for being so long winded but i love this solo sm already and it’s not even out yet HKDHS

#enstars #crazyb #niki shiina #not an aurora tl

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the-travelling-witch · 1 year

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🂱 9:11 pm with Sigma ♢ ﾟ｡⋆࿐

cw: tooth-rotting fluff and very self-indulgent ♡

The smell of chocolate and sugar wafted through your apartment as you stretched your legs on the couch. As the episode of the TV show came to a close, you knew the batch would be done soon too.

Despite the colours flashing across the screen, most of your attention was directed at the man currently lying with his head in your lap. There was a pleased hum coming from him as you gently scraped your nails across Sigma’s scalp, playing with the soft dual-coloured locks.

“Do you even keep up with what’s going on?” You teasingly prodded as your thumbs traced along his eyebrows, over his temple and down to his cheekbones, past his closed eyes. “I’m not restarting the episode, so it’s your loss if you have no clue what’s going on next time.”

“‘s okay,” he mumbled before emphasising your point with a yawn. Patting around for your hand, he dropped it onto his hair again, quietly urging you to continue running your hands through it.

“My poor angel,” you cooed softly but genuinely, “must be exhausting being the best casino manager there is.”

“Am not.”

“So are.”

Sigma rejected the notion with a click of his tongue and you pretended not to notice the smile tugging at his lips or the way he leaned further into your touch. Just as you pushed his bangs from his forehead and placed a sweet kiss there, the beeping of your oven sounded through the room.

Your efforts to get up earned you a groan from your boyfriend. “Come on baby, they’re gonna burn if I don’t get up now.”

“Just stay for a minute longer.”

“No because, one, we’ll burn the house down, and two, if I burn this batch, I won’t be able to cuddle with you because I’ll have to start over.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” Sigma huffed but reluctantly lifted himself off your lap.

As you checked the cookies and pulled them out of the oven, you heard the outro of the show play in the background. Cleaning the baking equipment, you left the treats to cool off a little before lifting them off the tray.

Humming along with your mind somewhere else, you squeaked as two arms wrapped around your waist from behind and a familiar weight draped itself over you.

“My, you’re clingy today,” you chuckled. “Not that I mind, not at all; in fact, I quite like it. But what’s bringing this on?”

“Nothing important really…” Sigma trailed off.

Putting your hands over his arms crossing in front of you, you caressed them, tracing random shapes there in hopes of comforting him.

“You can tell me, you know that right? I never want you to feel like you can’t confide in me, angel,” you whispered.

“It’s just— Ugh, it’s so stupid,” he sighed, burying his head in the crook of your neck. His breath fanned over your skin and you felt the touch of his plush lips as he searched for words. “I’ve been thinking recently… about my home.”

“The casino?” you encouraged him.

“That’s just it. I love the casino, I really do, but lately it doesn’t feel like ‘home’ anymore.” This time you patiently waited for him to continue on his own. You knew he wanted to tell you but was fighting with himself over what your reaction would be. “I thought the Sky Casino was all I needed but it’s been different since I met you.

“I think… you are my new home…”

As soon as the words left his mouth, you felt him stiffen behind you, slowly unwinding his arms from around you. “I’m so sorry… That was a totally weird thing to say, wasn’t it?”

Turning around as you intertwined your fingers with his to urge him to keep his hands planted on your waist before bringing yours up to cup his reddened cheeks.

“No, it’s not weird, the opposite really. It’s a beautiful thing to say, thank you.” Bringing him closer, you kissed his forehead again, this time letting your lips linger a little longer than before. “If it’s any comfort to you, you are my home as well. No matter where I go, as long as you’re with me I know I’ll be okay.”

You smiled softly at the way his eyes widened and he swallowed hard, swiftly bringing his hands up to cover his glowing face. When you pulled his wrists down, Sigma shyly averted his eyes as he tried to hide behind his fringe.

“No need to be embarrassed, angel, even if you’re quite cute like this,” you winked at him. Changing the topic, much to his relief, you held up a cookie. “Wanna try them while they’re still warm?”

Curiously waiting for his verdict, you studied the way the light of your kitchen reflected in his bright eyes. It was a good time to remind yourself how lucky you were to see this side to the enigma that Sigma was to most people.

“They’re really good!” He exclaimed before catching himself and giving you a sheepish smile. “Thank you for making them.”

“Of course,” you grinned. “Wanna grab a plate and a glass of milk and watch another episode? That is, if you feel like paying attention this time around.”

Sigma gave you an affectionate flick to the forehead but before long enough the two of you were snuggled up on the couch again, curled up amongst blankets and with chocolate filling your senses.

Despite teasing him earlier, you too didn’t spare the screen much attention as you sunk into the warmth of your boyfriend’s arms. As you basked in the love tangible in the room, you traced a diamond shape onto the plane of his chest, which he quickly returned in the form of a heart on your back.

It sure was nice to be home.

#holly’s potions #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs fluff #bungou stray dogs x you #bsd x reader #bsd fluff #bsd x you #sigma x reader #sigma x you #sigma fluff #bungou stray dogs sigma #bsd sigma #bungou stray dogs headcanons #bsd headcanons

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tinyascanbe · 14 days

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Introducing my g/t story

Beetle Shells

its based on actual entomology work ive done as a scientist, very self indulgent! TW: Cursing, light nudity, light blood, bugs (non aggro bugs)

Chapter 1: Introduction

I took quick and long strides down the sterile white hallway. At the end of the hallway were double doors tinted a dark black with yellow and red warning plates on the side. Reaching the end of the hallway and approaching a set of lockers, I instinctively reach for one marked with pink duct tape. Sighing, I shed my coat and donned a fresh laboratory coat along with medical boot covers. I tied my hair back into a messy bun of curls and finished up by secured the boot covers and buttoning up the coat. Beep beep beep beep! I stepped through the first door after punching in a personalized unique code. It was completely dark except for the UV light and stepped onto a sticky white pad. I heard the familiar hissing and allowed the cold air shower to blow onto my face and body before the stream dissipated. Lights automatically turned on and she then entered the quarantine lab. The quarantine lab was divided into four sections with one of the chemist labs right at the entrance.

“Heya Kyle. Any lucky today?” I approached the other scientist, peering around his shoulders at the beetle he was dissecting.

“Eh yknow, still having a hard time replicating the pheromones of this particular species. Still no preference or response to any of my solutions. The boss is pressuring me to get one ready in preparation for a public meeting with the state. Theres some big money involved with this research and the public havent been responsive. These invasive lil guys sure are causing me to lose sleep.” His face is creased with stress as he talks about it and he drops his tools in frustration.

“Yeah…they sure are cute lil guys. Imagine when you finally formulate it though! Theyll want to be all over you. Then your army of beetle lovers can eat the public opinion!” I laugh and pick up an analytical jar filled with peat and watch as the horned beetle emerges to munch on some sugarcane.

“Also hey how many do we have in inventory?” I inquire.

“Uhhh probably around 400 individuals over 5 generations. Sixth generation is scheduled to emerge in a few days now.” He answers, still not looking up at me. I admire his brown sleek hair, shining under the fluorescent lighting. I usually made excuses to talk to him throughout the day.

“Wow I wonder how much room we have left in here, we’re packed full. Well I have to work for about 3 hours with the longhorns so Ill come check in later to see if I can assist you.” Striding off, I walk through a hallway and enter a large metal door with a large latch.

I come into an enclosed refrigerated room and curse my luck on being stuck here. Its all plated metal with a chrome shelving unit on wheels and a long black table that stood about waist height. Plopping down on the black top swivel stool, i reach up for my clipboard, a binder, and mechanical pencil. Flipping open the binder, I scan the list of insects to be tested and pull out a form from another tabbed section. I flip open my airpod case and connect to my phones spotify playlist and walk out of the refrigerated hell to go grab my lil buddies that I get to hang out with for awhile. The insect species are separated by room so I dance over to the longhorn beetle room down the hall. The walls are lined with cups full of insect food and individual insects in each container. Buckets of different types of plants for feeding and a few carts along with another black table in the center of the room, fairly messy with forceps and papers were scattered about. The containers were marked with a gender sticker and had assigned genealogy tracking numbers. Sometimes Id mark a little heart on their containers if I was particularly fond of one of the individuals.

Dancing over and grabbing the cart, I stack male beetles and referencing my clipboard every so often. I scooted them all carefully back into my refrigerated testing room while grooving a bit to the music. I grabbed my favorite stick from the shelving unit and popped the top of the container to LB-08924 and was greeted by shaking and hissing.

“Oh nope. How bout you calm down there young man. Ill give you a few more minutes.” And grab another container for a second try.

On the table is a glass Y tube. Theres one small air hose connected to one side with the vaporized pheromone that the lab created and one small air hose connected to the other side with regular air. I get the next individual onto the stick and gently transfer them to the entrance to the tube and start a timer. The little antennas move a bit and stays in place. Waiting for the male to make a decision, I scribble in quick notes and information out on my form. Finally after 3 long minutes the male decides to walk down the tube towards our lab solution. I detach the air hose and gently pinch the lil guy to pull him out with a gloved hand. With a rather ungraceful plop, the male is dropped back into the container and the lid snapped shut.

Three hours go by and Ive listened to a whole Phish album and a podcast. I push a fallen curl behind my ear and straighten my posture, flipping through my reports to make sure I didnt miss any information.

Id been looking forward to taking a break and talking to Kyle again and the thought made me smile a bit to myself. I replace all my test subjects back to their respectful places, pop out my earbuds, and walk down the long hallway back to the main chemist lab.

“Kyle! Still hard at work I see. Im finished up with my beetles, need me to try and take a crack at yours?” I call out, seeing him in the same exact position as before. But this time, he actually turns to meet my green eyes with his darker gaze.

“Actually…yeah. The boss just fuckin yelled at me again to hurry this up. He doesnt understand that I cant rush this and once it is formulated, we have a long QC process ahead of us… Test this for me will you?”

“Yeah, anything for you. Give me a couple minutes to warm up first. Sample size?”

“Lets do 50 individuals. Using a spoon is your best bet to dig em out of the peat. Thanks, Clementine.” He holds out a vial to me and i take it, flashing him a smile and receiving one back.

I take the vial and slip it into my lab pocket readying a new cart of the new much larger rhinoceros male beetles. I struggle to balance their glass containers on the cart and right as I attempt to move the cart into the doorway of the testing room, the cart wobbles and causes the glass jars with the beetles to fall. Lunging to save the falling beetles, I trip in the process, breaking the vial and causing the glass to puncture through my jacket and shirt into my side. I land on other glass and thankfully none of the beetles.

“FUCK. ME.” I hiss and to my dismay I hear footsteps running over to me.

“Dude this didnt happen, lets not file an OSHA report and shit you know how much paperwork that is. Its my fault I shouldnt have tried to bring in that many bugs. I’ll take care of it all seriously Im fine. Im so sorry for breaking your vial I know that took you a long time..” I couldnt stop talking. Nevermind as fast as I was. I felt so embarrassed by the whole thing and wished I was alone. Kyle was staring at me with saucer eyes as if I ended the world by smashing his creation and I felt so badly about not being more careful.

“Uh Clementine… are you…. are you ok..? What the fuck…?”

I look down and see blood… but the blood stains look huge…but so does the lab coat itself…fuck I dont feel good. Woah all the beetles are surrounding me. The ones on the walls all surfaced from their peat. What the fuck….

Everything was in slow motion. I couldnt think straight and I felt like I was floating on hard drugs.

I realize Im craning my head up at Kyle with panic in my eyes.

“What was in the vial?” I slowly struggle to ask?

“Nothing that would cause this?? Its impossible. Maybe a dream??” He looks down at her with matching panic, hands shaking and staring down in fear as he appeared larger and larger to my now slumped body.

Ten or so beetles had finally began to crawl on me as I reached the height of the waist high table. Fear gripped me in the uncertainty but I realized I could barely stand from the overwhelming dizziness and weakness that overtook me. I was no taller than the waist high table and I collapsed to the ground causing two beetles to jump off.

“Help, please” desperation soaked my voice as their barbed legs gripped into my skin and my height still diminishing.

Kyles eyes darted and he finally began snatching the beetles off me and placing them in the labs emergency bug net. His huge hands approaching me caused my heart to race faster with fear. Holding the net of angry buzzing beetles, he turned and ran to secure them, leaving me. I had no idea how tall I was at this point, just that I was probably under 1’ by the look of things. I began to drag myself towards the bottom of the cart to try and hide underneath. There was no where else to hide and I couldnt trust a scientist, no matter how cute. The loud sound of footsteps coming back pumped fear through me and I realized I wouldnt be able to hide in time.

“Oh fuck youre so much smaller now…are you still shrinking?! Wait hey stop its ok theres no more beetles. All the insects are all locked up.” Kyle pushed the cart to expose the top half of me that had dragged myself under and squatted down in front of me.

“Uh sorry it took me a minute to process everything before helping you. I have no fucking idea whats happening but I feel responsible for giving you that vial. Im going to….pick you up now. Theres a lot of glass on the floor. Youre like 4 inches right now and I think you stopped shrinking.”

I watch, laid out on my side, bleeding in various places as he reaches both hands out in front of him, tilting his head as he considered how to exactly pick me up. I swallow as the hands approach. He uses his pointer finger to roll me onto the palm of his other hand. I puke in my mouth as he slowly raises me up to his gaze. His eyes are massive now, huge glossy orbs of color right in front of me. Exposing me. I had never felt so naked before and I shyly move my hands to cover myself despite my naked body already touching his warm palm. Averting my eyes, I hold back tears and feel absolutely out of control of reality.

“Ive got you, dont worry. I’ve got you.” He whispered quietly.

“We’ve gotta go though. We need to address your wounds first and foremost. Youre coming back with me.” Taking control of the situation, Kyles voice filled with more confidence.

“We gotta put you down first though so I can clean this up to prevent any suspicion. Im gonna lay you on the table now. Ill grab your shirt so you dont get cold. Youre shaking…i think.”

I couldnt speak. I didnt know what to say. I nodded weakly at the massive being and the nausea hit again as he lowered his hands and moved to the table. Using two fingers, he gently pushed me off his palm and I rolled onto the cold metal. In that moment I felt like a rag-doll specimen. He quickly plucked my bra from my shirt and brought the shirt up and wrapped me in it. My shivered chattering began to quiet and I soon found myself asleep to the sounds of him cleaning up broken glass.

#g/t community #gt text #g/t fluff #giant/tiny #g/t writing #beetle shells #beetle shells part one

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