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irb-pascalito-99 · 2 months

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Catch Me If You Can

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Warnings: Smut, teasing, unprotected p in v, come play

Summary: Joel’s girl can’t stop staring at him while he’s fixing the table they broke.

A/N: This is an excerpt from Chapter Thirteen of my fic Always an Angel, Never a God. To read more of this pairing visit a03.

I lean back and watch the muscles in Joel’s back flex as he drills new bolts into the table. Beads of sweat roll down his arms and create dark patches on his t-shirt. I crawl toward him and kiss his neck as he puts the drill down.

“I think you should do this with your shirt off,” I mumble against his skin.

My hands slide underneath his shirt, trailing up his stomach and chest. Joel chuckles. He leans back slightly to give me better access.

I grab the hem of his t-shirt and pull it over his head. He lifts his arms as I do. Joel allows me a couple more kisses before he starts to work on the table again.

I chew on my bottom lip while I watch him. Joel doesn’t have defined abs or the form of a bodybuilder, but there’s no mistaking he has muscles. His arms and back flex as he picks up another table leg to screw into place.

I offered help when he started, but he wouldn’t allow it. Now, he focuses on the task at hand. His eyebrows crease as he bolts the leg into place. He shakes it firmly to assure it is strong before moving on to the next one. He looks over his shoulder to see me still staring at the definition in his arms and back.

“Careful now, I’ll start thinkin’ you only want me for my body,” he jokes with a wink in my direction.

“I like you for more than your body,” I lean back against a nearby wall while Joel searches for the bolts for the next leg.

“Oh really, like what?” He asks. I roll my eyes at his obvious attempt for compliments, but happily play into it.

“Well, turns out you’re good at making furniture,” I joke. He laughs and shakes his head before screwing in the next bolts.

I could think of a million reasons why I like Joel. He’s unbelievably generous. He’s smart, but he doesn’t rub your face in it. He’s amazing with Sarah, and so understanding with Ellie. He’s the kind of man who fucks you so hard against a table it breaks, and then spends the next afternoon putting it back together again. When he pauses with the drill again I continue with an honest answer to his question.

“You make me feel safe,” I say. He puts the drill down and turns his full attention to me. “I don’t have to pretend to be anyone else. I can fall apart a little around you. You make me feel safe.”

I keep my eyes on the ground. I don’t want to see Joel’s reaction to my statement. I don’t want to know if it’s too much too soon. We sit in silence until he picks up the drill again.

“You make me feel safe too,” He says. I lift my eyes from the floor. He fumbles with the screws in his hands. “I’ve been focused on Sarah for so long. It’s nice to be able to let go a little sometimes, have somethin’ for myself you know?”

My heart flutters at the notion of being something he holds for himself, that I could be as important to him as he is to me. I know Joel loves deeply, and Sarah will always be the biggest thing in his life, but I hadn’t thought of how lonely it must have been for him over these last several years.

Obviously Sarah’s mom leaving had left a hole in their family, but Joel lost more than a co-parent. He lost a partner, a wife. He’s never talked about her in a romantic sense. He hasn’t mentioned her at all since the hospital. I haven’t wanted to push him into opening up, but something about this conversation feels different. It feels as though he’s offering me something here.

“Did you have that with Annie?” I ask. Joel’s shoulders tense, and I fear I may have misread things. “Was it ever just easy?”

Joel focuses on drilling the screws into the final leg before he answers me. My heart thumps in anxiety. I shouldn’t have pushed. The weekend was going so well. Why did I have to push my luck?

“I guess it was for a minute there, when we were just young kids livin’ our lives,” He examines his work, shaking the table legs again as he continues explaining. He doesn’t look at me while he talks. “She got pregnant so early into our relationship though, so it didn’t stay like that for long.”

I debate on leaving it like that. Joel is clearly uncomfortable, but I want to know him better. I hardly know his past at all.

“Why? What happened?” I ask.

Joel rubs his face and then wipes his hands on his jeans. He doesn’t shy away from the topic, but I can tell he wants the conversation to be over. From what I can tell after conversations with Tommy and Sarah, Joel doesn’t talk about Annie with anyone these days. I find that strange coming from a man who’s been so adamant that I open myself up to others.

“It was just a lot of pressure,” Joel grabs one end of the table and turns it back over to stand on it’s legs. “Neither of us knew what we wanted or how to handle it. Our parents were furious. We thought marriage was the best answer but neither of us were ready for it. It was a giant dose of real world issues shoved into our teenage romance, so no it wasn’t ready for long.”

“Tommy mentioned you guys were on your own with all that.” I respond. Joel turns to me with a slightly angered look on his face.

“It’s not Tommy’s place to be sharing that,” he says. I shrink back into the wall slightly. Joel’s anger immediately dissipates after seeing my reaction. “Sorry it’s just, a part of my life I don’t want you to have to deal with.”

I try not to be angry that he chooses to hide that part of his life from me, but I find myself wondering why he doesn’t think he can trust me with it. He seems so keen on knowing my secrets and holding my darkness. I wish he’d let me do the same for him.

He doesn’t give me any more room to press him on the topic, choosing instead to bring the energy in the room back up. He picks me up and carries me over to the table. I squeal and kick my legs in the air, caught off guard by suddenly being thrown over Joel’s shoulder.

When he sets me down he places me on the finished table and stands between my parted knees. He places his hands on the surface of the table bracketing my hips. His lips come forward to meet mine, pulling me in for a deep kiss when he shakes the table roughly again. It stays firm on the ground, no creaking or concerns that it might collapse.

“Now that’s a proper table,” he says with a grin. He pulls me in for another kiss, immediately deepening it and bringing me closer to the edge of the table. As the kiss gets more heated I push him away. “What?”

“We are not fucking on the table again Miller, you just fixed it.” Joel’s big brown eyes morph into a sad pleading expression, but I refuse to cave. Instead I shake my head and cross my arms.

“Oh come on,” He kisses my neck, biting down enough to leave a mark on the skin.

“Joel” I moan and throw my head back. When he moves to the other side of my neck I shake my head to clear it and crawl across the table to the other side.

He stands with his hands still on the table. I grin at him while he gives me a grumpy look on the other side of the wood.

“Not on the table,” I say cheekily.

When he starts to round the corner toward me I run off in the opposite direction, heading for the stairs. I giggle as I hear him start to run after me. I’m halfway up the stairs when I feel his hands grip my waist and pull me off my feet. I kick my feet in the air and squeal.

Joel places my knees on the ground. I grab the edge of the steps in front of me and gasp when he grabs the waistband of my leggings and underwear, pulling both down my thighs. The material gathers at my knees as he fumbles with his belt.

“Joel,” I whine. The tension pulls in my center so much it almost hurts. I can feel the center of my thighs becoming slick as my wetness drips down the inside.

“I know baby. I know, I’ll make it feel better.” Joel yanks his own pants down enough that his cock springs out.

His hard length presses against my back causing me to moan as I press back into him. What started out as playful banter has turned into overwhelming need. Joel runs his fingers along my folds, groaning loudly when he realizes how wet I am.

“Oh darlin’, you need it bad huh?” He mumbles huskily into my ear. I nod my head, pushing myself back against him again.

He chuckles in response as he brings his hand back to his cock. He pushes his length through my folds slowly. I push my body back into his hoping that he’ll begin to fill me. I let out a hiss when the head of his member brushes against my clit before he pulls back again.

After a couple thrusts his cock notches at my throbbing entrance. I’m panting as I wait for him to press forward, on the verge of tears from anticipation. He kisses my shoulder while he pushes just the tip inside and freezes again.

“Please, please, please, plea-” I beg, cut short from the delicious stretch of his cock inside me. I throw my head back on his shoulder as he thrusts forward. His hands grip my hips to hold me still while I tremble around him.

Once he’s filled me to the brim he pauses to let me adjust. My pussy flutters around his pulsing length. I could probably come just from this, but he soon retreats and slams his hips back into mine. He keeps his pace slow, but his thrusts hard and deep. Each one pushes the breath out of my lungs.

“Fuck, Joel.” I moan as he thrusts in again. “It feels so good, you feel so good inside me.”

“Yeah?” He pants. His hands slip on my hips as he struggles to maintain his grip through the combined sweat of our bodies. Words are becoming increasingly more difficult as the pleasure builds so I nod my head in response.

I feel my core tighten and clench around Joel’s cock. He groans and starts to thrust harder and slightly faster. His hand slips around my front to start making small circular motions on my clit. The coil inside me starts to tighten even more, causing me to lurch forward on the stairs.

I rest my forehead on the stairs as I call out for Joel, no longer aware or in control of what I’m saying. Whatever it is, it spurs him on more. My fingers pull at the threads of the carpet on the stairs, undoubtedly pulling chunks out as well, while Joel’s fingers speed and supply more pressure. Something snaps inside me. I scream as I let go. Joel grunts as my pussy throbs around him, and continues working me through my climax.

When I come down my body sags against the harsh angles of the stairs. The only thing keeping my hips from the ground is Joel’s hand wrapped around my waist. I can tell he’s close. His thrusts become sloppier as he moans louder with each one. I feel him pulse inside me and he grunts.

He quickly pulls out and turns my body around on the stairs. Joel’s hands grab the front of the shirt I’m wearing, his shirt I stole off the bedroom floor this morning, and yank it open. Buttons clatter along the walls and railing of the stairs as they fly away.

With my chest and stomach exposed to the open air, Joel brings his hand to his cock. He pulls it rapidly. I watch him through hooded eyes while he moans. His eyes wander over my figure splayed out in front of him. Once he looks up to see my face he lets go with a loud growl. His seed decorates my body in ribbons, continuing to pump his length until he has no more left to give.

He grabs the wall with one hand and the railing with another as he breathes heavily with his head hung. I commit the sight to memory, certain that this is what all the greatest painters in history saw when they decided to capture the beauty of man.

His breathing begins to slow down when he opens his eyes again. He brings them up to me and remains frozen as I trail one hand down to the mess he’s left on my skin. I collect his spend on my fingers and lock eyes with him as I bring it up to my mouth and suck my fingers dry. He looks about ready to collapse from the sight alone.

When I pull my fingers from my lips he leans down and kisses me gently. His tongue licks along my bottom lip before slipping inside my mouth. As he pulls away a string of saliva connects us and then splits, seeking in the coarse hairs of his beard.

He stands up first, pulling his pants back up, and then helps me back to my feet. Joel pulls my leggings and underwear back up for me as I wobble on my legs. I keep my grip on the railing so I don’t fall. Over half the buttons on the shirt I was wearing are now hidden in the carpet of the stairs, so it remains open while I attempt to climb back up the stairs. Joel lets me try for a minute before picking me up and carrying me to bed for a nap.

To read more visit a03.

#pedro pascal #smut #fanfic #joel miller #joel miller smut #a03 fanfic #a03 writer #joel smut #tlou hbo #joel tlou #joel miller x original character #joel miller x oc #joel miller x reader #wip #pedrostories #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction

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nocasdatsgay · 11 days

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A Lesson in Heartbreak

Part 1 of 3: The Night it Fell Apart

Rating: T | Word Count: 2082 | Pairing: Azris/Reader

Summary: Eris and Azriel made promises they didn’t keep. When you confront them about it, Eris says some things he instantly regrets. Now him and Azriel have to fix what they broke.

Neapolitan Bonds Masterlist| Read on A03| Read Below

Warnings: Angst, Eris has a sharp tongue

A/N: @daycourtofficial asked if we would ever see that big fight mentioned in Even High Lords Need a Break and I was like sure why not aka let me channel my upsetti spaghetti emotions into this

Tagging: @hieragalbatorixdottir @mybestfriendmademe

Your food was cold but not as cold as the empty dining room you sat in. You’d stared at your plate in silence, letting tears fall before wiping them away with your napkin. You couldn’t bring yourself to eat. First due to waiting, then due to nausea from the realization they weren’t coming.

They promised, played in your mind over and over.

It was a betrayal you’d never felt before. The hollowness in your chest was eating away at you. You’d blocked the bond, determined that they would have to come of their own accord. But an hour passed and neither of them showed. After one last wipe of your face, you stood and tossed the napkin onto the table. Anger burned in you for a moment at the utter waste of food in front of you.

You left and found Azriel first.

He was in the upper library, books scattered on the table. The second he looked up at you, his face fell. You didn’t say anything, just stared with anger in your chest and tears falling again. He appeared in front of you, shadows weaving all around you.

“You promised,” was all you could get out.

Azriel fell to his knees, wings flaring out.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I know I promised. I wasn’t paying attention to the time.” Regret etched in his voice and features. “I was just busy-“

“And your shadows didn’t remind you?” Azriel’s silence was deafening. He reached for you but you stepped back. His shadows left you as well. “Where is Eris?”

“His office, but-“ you didn’t listen to what else he said.

You winnowed to the High Lord’s main office door. Without knocking, you threw it open. Eris was hunched over papers himself, fingers stained with ink as they ran through his hair. He didn’t even look at you.

“Eris.” He still didn’t look up. “Eris!”

“What?” He snapped, finally looking at you. He frowned as he studied your face. His tone was softer when he asked, “Why are you crying?”

“You don’t remember?” You were shaking, grief and anger building further.

He cursed, realization washing over him. “Dinner.”

“Yes. Dinner.” You gritted out. “You promised me that you and Az would be there.” Like you promised the past several weeks, you thought but bit it back.

“I know, I know.” He moved papers on his desk around. “But the High Lord meeting is in a week. There are things we have to plan for, it’s taking longer than-“

“You said that last week. And the week before that. Then it was tithe you had to work on. These are just excuses!” You screamed. “Neither of you showed! You promised!”

“Do not raise your voice at me.”

A command, one that had you clenching your fists at your side. He was on his feet, hands planted on his desk and he looked at you like he did his unruly governors. You could see fire in his eyes as he continued.

“I am genuinely sorry that I missed dinner. However, some things are more important than a meal. I’m the High Lord and I have responsibilities. We are hosting this time and we have to make certain everything is in order. You would know this if you bothered to help.”

You went still, even tears streaming down your face seemed to halt. You had heard of Eris’s cruel tongue for centuries. You never dreamed it would be directed at you.

“You told me I didn’t have to,” you whispered, your voice steadier than your body.

“Exactly, so you do not get to complain when Azriel and I are busy,” he snapped back. “You knew what you were getting into when we mated.”

Eris may as well have stabbed you.

“I suppose I did.” You suddenly felt like someone else was talking, with how calm the words came out. “I’m so sorry to bother you.”

You kept the bond shut, winnowing to your rooms. You used your magic to seal the room, barring even Azriel’s shadows. You went straight to the office, pulling out pen and paper while you sniffled and wiped your face with your sleeve. The first letter was rushed and sloppy- a letter to Samira, and sent it with a flick of your wrist. The second you took a deep breath before writing down where you were going. You sealed it with your personal seal and took it to the bedroom, tossing it onto the duvet.

You pulled out a travel bag and threw in clothes, not bothering to make sure they were neat and folded. You had to get out of Autumn before Azriel’s shadows told on you. You had to get out so you could process what happened. With your bag stuffed, you thanked the mother when a letter returned to you. You ripped it open. Samira was in Summer but spoke to Tarquin and granted you permission to travel.

You stuffed the letter into your bag and winnowed. One moment you were in your bedroom, the next you were outside, fae lights gleaming against the tan stone and reflecting off the sea glass doors in front of you. To your right Samira had been waiting for you. She was as beautiful as ever in a seafoam Summer Dress, her skin darker no doubt from the sun and her black hair braided back. She took one look at your face and her gaze softened. Just being in her presence broke you. She wrapped her arms around you and you sobbed.

“Let’s go inside,” she whispered, patting your back. “Cress has a room being made for you. We can get some tea and talk.”

You nodded, wiping your eyes again and followed her into the place.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Az was panicking.

We told you, his shadows hissed. You don’t listen. Our mate is angry.

“Shut up!” He bellowed.

His shadows scattered. He got to his feet, hands shaking. How could he have done this to you? He never made you cry- well, not like this. And his silence when you asked him if his shadows had told him, the betrayal on your face gutted him. Yes, they had told him. He kept saying he would go in a few minutes. He didn’t realize a few minutes turned into a fucking hour.

He went to the table, closing books and stacking papers to put away. You left in a flurry when he told you where Eris was. Az had to find you and apologize. He’d get on his knees again if he had too. Maybe Eris was already apologizing for both of them, considering you implied he didn’t show either. He ran his hands through his hair. After this conference, he wasn’t going to do another damn thing for the next two months. He owed it to you.

Azriel sent the papers to his personal study with magic and took the books over to a trolley. He didn’t notice that his shadows went missing. He made his way down the stairs, mind buzzing with ideas and thoughts. Thoughts of what to say to you to convince you he was sorry. He didn’t make it down the stairs, however. Shadows returned in full force, swarming around him. All of them spoke to him over each other.

Mate. Gone. Blocked. Gone. Letter. Read it. Read it. Read it.

Something fell onto the stair he was standing on. A letter. He picked it up, confusion on his face as he looked it over. It was your seal. One you only used to correspond with other courts. He ripped it open, unfolding the paper inside. He skimmed the first two lines and his heart felt like it stopped. He read it again, thinking he was misunderstanding it.

She locked us out. Gone. Our mate upset her. Shadows hissed.

His breath quickened and his heart raced. He read the letter again fully. He felt like the air was punched out of him. You left. You left. And the words were blurring as his eyes watered. What you wrote didn’t make sense. Then he remembered you went to Eris when you left him.

Sorrow was replaced with rage. Eris had a temper. Always had. He had a sharp tongue as well. He did or said something to make you leave. He had too. Your side of the bond was silent, no doubt to help you slip away unnoticed. Eris however, Azriel sent all his fury to him as he winnowed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Eris had been staring at the itinerary in front of him for half an hour. Yet if anyone asked him what it said, he wouldn’t be able to answer. He had let his temper get away from him. He swore the day he killed Beron he would never act like him and yet- you came into his office like a summer storm, eyes and cheeks red from crying. He knew instantly he was the cause. And gods was he angry.

He was so angry at himself for forgetting again. For failing you again. But all that came from his mouth was venom he’d used for centuries to protect himself. He was wrong and he knew it. He wanted to tell you but you had shut down the bond. No matter how much he tugged and clawed, he couldn’t get through to you. Eris figured if he waited, the both of you would calm down and he could apologize. He would beg on his knees for you to forgive him.

A moment passed and he suddenly felt rage. Not from you, but from Azriel. In the next moment, the room filled with darkness, only blue siphons lighting the room. Eris was out of his chair but not from his own accord. The chair toppled and Azriel had Eris pressed against the wall.

“What did you do?” Azriel growled.

“Azriel.” Eris could feel his flames wanting to rise. “You better have a good reason-.”

“She left.” Az’s hand punched the wall beside Eris, the blue light pulsing on his siphons.

“What?”

The shadows didn’t let up, darkness still covering the room.

“She left Autumn.” Eris could see the tears now. “She left us!” Before Eris could ask further a note was shoved against his chest. “What the fuck did you do, Eris?”

“Me?” He didn’t even look at the paper yet. “If she told me correctly, you missed dinner as well. And you have less of an excuse than I do.”

Anger flashed in the bond and Eris had to duck to keep Az’s fist from connecting with him. Eris winnowed away to the door, out of the shadows and into the light. Some shadows were crawling on him still, acting agitated. Eris finally looked down at the letter.

I’m going to stay with a friend. Do not look for me. I will not burden you both any longer. I should have known when I mated to a High Lord and his consort, I would never be as important as the court. I was a fool. You’ll never be subjected to my foolishness again.

Eris stumbled, falling back against the door frame. Realization sank in and he read the letter again. You actually left. It was all his fault. His mind said this was ridiculous; it was just dinner. But his heart knew it wasn’t. It was not coming to bed until you’d fallen asleep, rising before you woke. It was the pleading looks you gave when you asked him or Azriel to join you even if for a moment. It was how he hadn’t shown you an ounce of his love for months now.

Then shadows suddenly parted and Eris looked up to see Azriel, wild eyed with siphons still pulsing.

“She’s in Summer,” he came around the desk to Eris, grabbing him by the shirt. “We have to go get her. We have to bring her back.”

“Get a hold of yourself.” It was Eris’s turn to grab Az and flip them around so Az was pinned to the wall, with his wings splayed out. “We cannot just winnow into Summer. Where did they say she went?”

“The palace.” Fresh tears rolled down Az’s face. “She banished the shadows when they found her. She blocked our rooms the same way when she-“

Eris felt the wave of sorrow from Az. He grabbed him and pulled him against him. Eris didn’t like crying but he couldn’t help but blink repeatedly, failing to drive those tears away. He would fix this. He had to.

Part 2

#I’m sorry not sorry #angst #big fight #Neapolitan bonds #Azriel/eris/reader #azris/reader #azriel acotar #eris vanserra #eris acotar #acotar x you #acotar x reader #I wrote this instead of working on my other wips

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lost-on-an-ocean-of-books · 24 days

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Calling all fanfiction Readers it's time to have your say.

Hi Fanfiction Readers

My name is Tamsin and I am a PhD student, fellow lurker and fanfiction reader. I am conducting a study into the role that fanfiction plays in the lives of those fans who read fanfiction as part of their everyday lives. Does your search history include the tags related to found family, irondad or batbad for example, then I am interested in talking to you. If you would like to take part in discussions around these tags with a fellow reader and lurkers of these tags within A03 please message me.

Taking part in this research is a chance for you to share your own experience of fanfiction and what it means to you, while also highlighting that lurkers do still have a voice and an important part to play within fandom research.

Below the cut is more information about this study and what it involves. Please read this if you would like more information before getting in touch. If you are unable to take part please can you reblog this post or share it to anyone you feel might wish to take part.

Why have I been chosen?

I have deliberately chosen lurkers within fanfiction communities as the messages they take from and their reasons for reading fanfiction are under researched. Although you may not be a lurker in all fandoms you are involved in, the fact that you are a lurker within any fanfiction spaces make you the ideal candidate from this exploration into lurkers and their relationships with fanfiction, fanfictions online spaces and fandom communities.

I would also like to emphasise that I require all participants to be over the age of 18 to take part in this study. If you are under 18 please let me know now.

What does taking part mean?

By agreeing to take part in this study you are agreeing to record a diary of your fanfiction use and reasons for this usage within a discord chat. There is no limit for entries and I ask that the minimum response is once every two weeks. However, this project is aiming to work around your life and commitments and if you do miss a couple of weeks do not panic. Just start sending entries or replying to prompts again when you are able to. If I have not heard from you in a month I will send a message which will read:

Hi. I hope you are doing well. I am just sending a message to check in and to double check if you wish to continue taking part in the study. If you are happy to still take part please send any form of response to this message.

It is important to note that this response can be as limited as simply sending an emoji. If I do not receive a response after two weeks I will stop attempting to contact you. However this is not seen as a full withdrawal from the study and you are able to return at any time. I will also still use the discussions we have already had as part of my thesis. If you would like to withdraw fully from the study please let me or my supervisors know, with the process of how to do this explained below.

These entries can take the form of voice notes, written responses and memes or tiktoks. Every two weeks I shall send a prompt to the chat that hosts the diary entries, these are intended to get you thinking about certain topics and do not have to be answered directly or even at all if the questions make you uncomfortable or touch on something you are unwilling to share. At the end of every month I will arrange a touch base interview (over google meet) which will last about an hour. This will be a chance to discuss anything that you find easier to discuss face to face, to review some of your diary entries and for me to answer any question you may have. While I will aim to have these interviews a month apart I do understand that life may get in the way. I am more than happy to be flexible and move interviews around or push them back/bring them forward depending on your schedules.

#bat family #iron dad and spider son #irondad #batdad #fan fiction #a03 fanfic #found family

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teastainedprose · 22 hours

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🔞Gash (Cooper Howard / The Ghoul x Reader)

You've been stabbed and The Ghoul means to patch you up, save for the problem of a metal shard lost in the wound. 1,435 words | This is smut if wound fingering counts. All about pain and looking at Cooper's stupid pretty face and PAIN and Cooper's finger in an open wound, pet names, wound cleaning, blood, more pain. No proofreading, take it raw bb. I blame @ghoulphile for egging me on. [A03]

Luck was with the man who managed to sheath his knife into your gut. Luck protected you as he missed puncturing anything important, only slicing meat and fat. Luck would have Cooper right there moments later putting a bullet through the bastard's brains as his luck promptly ran out. Lucky to have the old ghoul catch you before you crumpled to the ground.

Lady Luck was having a fucking field day. That bitch.

Your thoughts swirl, snagging on the present. You're trying to keep your mind set off to the side, away from your body. Away from the burning wet pain of your seeping wound, but it tugs you right back. Your body demands that you feel this, the gaping wound in your gut a wrongness your breakable mortal form insists you can't ignore.

Blood leaks down your hip as you groan from the press of Cooper's fingers around the gaping flesh of the gash in your side to take proper stock of it. Beside you on the table rests the knife you'd been stabbed with, save for the tip. That's currently buried in your guts. The blade is a rusty thing, old and brittle. The thought of that extra bit of metal swimming about inside you sits ill. Your vision blurs, a queasiness rolling over as your head rolls to the side.

Cooper notices your far away gaze, pausing in his inspection to clasp your chin in his glove covered fingers. The ones that are thankfully not covered in your blood. The other hand prodding at your flesh has bare fingers, calloused texture a distant pleasantry. He'd yanked that glove off with his teeth. Skin to bloody skin now. How intimate.

"Now, dove." The words are a soft puff of breath against your cheek as you refocus. "Keep them pretty eyes open for me now." His attention shifts back to your wound while do as commanded.

"Stuck you real good, girlie." Cooper murmurs, eyes hooded from your inspection at this angle. He continues to mind your wound, bare fingers tracing your abdomen as if to feel from the outside where the rusty intrusion is. "Gonna hav'ta clean it proper. Needin' to dig the tip out."

All you can do is nod absently, drinking in every detail of his face. His black-as-night lashes are clearly visible this close, looking as pretty as can be. They add extra shadow to the sunken hollow about his eyes. He glances up, the swirling deep forest green and brown of his gaze catching you. You suck in a breath as Cooper's nail catches on the cut.

Teeth snap shut with a click as you bare them at Cooper. He smirks right back at you. He knows it hurts, but there's no helping it. All you can do is grimace and bear it while trying to divert your attention from the throbbing in your abdomen.

Your study of him is your current distraction. It's working well enough, mind content to catalogue the sharp lines of his face as you sit there panting quietly. There's the detached burn of alcohol as he dabs your wound with a soaked cloth, pulling a shiver across your skin in response.

Focus. Focus on the face of The Ghoul intently working. How there's the rough texture of his ravaged skin before your eyes. His skin is rusty in color, an earthy shade. It reminds you of the red clay from your long-abandoned home. His skin is just as baked and cracked as that dirt was. A delicious contrast to the richer red of his lips. Funny how he looks all sorts of dried up, but you know those lips to be softer than expected. Soft and pliant when pressed against your own with the wet press of his tongue darting out and-

You curse as your thoughts shatter into sharp glass, body instinctively lurching away from what hurts you. Cooper snatches your thigh, fingers digging in as he holds you steady.

"Now, now. Easy there, dove." His eyes flick to your face again. He's got a finger crooked into the gash. It feels wrong. "Told you I need to get that piece out. Breath, nice and easy."

You inhale. His head cants to the side as he waits. You exhale. Cooper nods as his finger digs deeper into the wound, feeling about. You swear he just brushed viscera with a fingertip.

It makes you dizzy, feeling his finger rooting around in the open wound as he tries to nudge out the knife bit. Forceps would have been a good idea, maybe some pliers? Something thinner than Cooper's gnarled fingers. You've memorized those digits intimately, but never expected to know them here. In your fucking guts.

It hurts. Of course it fucking does, but it's a wrong sort of pain. The sensation keeps flipping your stomach over and over. You want to empty the contents of it, but know that'll hurt worse with the state you're in. Your eyes lose focus as Cooper clicks his tongue.

"Focus. Eyes on me like I said, darlin'." He waits a beat as you blink, refocus. "Attagirl," his tone is even and coaxing, trying to keep you calm as if you're a startled brahmin. His finger continues to root around in your open wound, feeling for that stray bit of metal.

There's a twisted sort of intimacy in having Cooper's fingers delving into the wound, a sick parody of what else he's buried in you on better days.

You moan, a low sound pulled deep from within you involuntarily. It hurts.

"Now dove... That ain't the sort of cooing you should be makin' right now,'' amusement laces his words as he studies your face. His finger goes still to let you settle. It takes a moment, adjusting to the intrusion because his finger has sunk deeper. Your body is trying to reject the invasion, nerves flaring up with clear alarm.

You huff in response, shooting Cooper a sour look as a tremor runs through your strained body. It's not your fault your pain sounds are similar to the ones you make when he's rutting into you. He shakes his head, smiling to himself as Cooper gets back to work.

"Can feel it at my fingertip, jus' let me-" The digging is a burning invasion now as he presses deeper, finger crooking. You can feel the tug of something else scraping your insides as you suck in a sudden breath. He catches that bit of rusty metal, tugs and then it's over.

Cooper holds up the metal shard in front of your face with a yellow grin. "Got it."

You promptly drop your forehead against his shoulder with a whine. Blood leaks sluggishly from the wound now.

"There, there. I gotcha, dove. Now, you let me clean you up proper." His gloved hand rubs your back briefly before he gently sets you upright. Cooper is quicker to clean out the wound, caring little for how the alcohol he pours directly on it burns as he flushes it out. It's almost a welcomed sensation after the nausea induced fingering he'd just been up to.

He pauses, considering a moment before Cooper pops the same bloody finger he'd just had inside of you into his mouth. You can only watch in a detached way, pain keeping you pacified as Cooper makes sure to lick his hand clean of your blood.

"Disgusting," you sigh. It's half-hearted. You've seen him ingest far worse.

"What? I'm a ghoul, sweetheart," he smirks. "Figure only way I'm gonna get a taste of that."

"Can you please fucking get me that Stimpak already?"

He tuts while wiping his hand clean of your blood on a spare rag before obliging. Cooper smoothly jabs the needle directly above your wound without warning, earning a hiss from you but your resentment instantly melts away.

This time you moan in pleasure, soothed as the endorphins rush your system in a cooling wave of comfort. A detached floaty feeling settles over you instantly as you relax, eyes drifting shut. A content smile settles on your lips while Cooper busies himself properly bandaging up your wound and wiping away the excess blood. His fingers linger, the bare ones ghosting up your side as a tremor runs through you for a wholly different reason now.

Slowly, you open your eyes again as you once more slump into his warmth. The scent of leather, gunpowder and something uniquely him fill your nostrils as you inhale.

"Better, dove?"

"Mhhm," You hum in contentment.

"That's my girl," He purrs as he hooks an arm about your waist and gently tugs you closer. "Now how's about we see about thankin' me proper for saving your sorry ass?"

#Cooper Howard x Reader #The Ghoul x Reader #Fallout #Fallout fanfic #fallout writing #The Ghoul #Cooper Howard #it's gore gore gooreee #I still feel like I wrote smut tho!?!?#squint and this is actually about taking his HUGE GHOUL CO- / gets shot #He'd get off to this shit #I blame the Hannibal fandom for this idea #Ghoul pretty #Ghoul encoraging~#x reader #drabble

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cod-imagines-fanfiction · 9 months

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Jealous Alejandro kidnaps Valeria's girlfriend to be interrogated by the 141 (2k words, part 1)

Summary: Inspired by one of my headcanons for Valeria. Valeria has gifted you a whole wing in her massive residence in Las Almas. Alejandro infiltrates the mansion to gather intel and finds you, Valeria's girlfriend. You are kidnapped by Alejandro and interrogated by the 141 on Valeria and her whereabouts. Got a bit carried away and will make a part 2! Link to fanfic on A03

Notes: Sorry for butchering Mexican Spanish, I Google-translated everything! Also tagging @lesvii in case u wanted to read it! TW: mentions of cheating, toxic Alejandro, threat of violence.

It was another beautiful night for you at the rich luxurious mansion of your girlfriend Valeria Garza, the infamous cartel mogul of Las Almas and Latin America. In the lowest basements of the estate sat enemies, tied on their chairs and ruthlessly interrogated by Valeria's henchmen. Blood stains littered the floor, the moans of these victims muffled by the layers of concrete that stood between them and the world above the surface. And much further above, on a secluded and spoiled part of the estate, you stretched lazily on a golden bathtub filled with hot water and bubbles, feeling the dolphin-shaped taps that winked at you with diamond eyes as you played around with the water. Your bathroom was filled with the scent of lavender and honey and you enjoyed another night of hard-earned relaxation. It wasn't easy being this loved and spoiled, but someone had to do it! Sure, Valeria had a prominently dark side that demanded constant attention, and could be a handful to love. Valeria needed three warm homemade meals every day, love each morning and night and a massage break during her siesta, and you met all of her wishes. In return, Valeria loved you hard and expensively.

Today was an especially tough day because Valeria needed to leave for a business trip.

"It's just three days, okay mi amor? I'll be back before you know it," she fussed over you at her doorstep, one of the few times she'd let you be seen by her henchmen. Ever since you were moved into Valeria's residence, she had scarcely left your side. And now here she was, needing to leave for some kind of business meeting that she refused to elaborate on. You knew it must've been important because you would hear various personnel discuss it carelessly when they thought you weren't listening from your balcony. And it must've been very important if it meant keeping her away from you for days. "But what about morning cuddles?" You sulked and held on to her shirt with the tip of your fingers. It was a bit self-indulgent and dramatic, but you really were going to miss her, and Valeria loved to feel needed anyway, so such pathetic displays were more than welcome. "I'll call you whenever I can, okay? Now give me a kiss."

And that's how you ended up having to amuse yourself for several days.

And that's when Alejandro decided to infiltrate the Las Almas residence.

You were soaking in the warm water, completely oblivious to the fact that your girlfriend's ex-lover was eyeing the residence for a vulnerable entry point. As you lathered your body in oils and creams, he was butchering the guards and dumping their bodies behind the bushes. As you sat on your Queen sized bed ready to rest for the night, he stood behind the door, listening. Alejandro had guessed that this must be Valeria's private area of the mansion because it was significantly nicer than the rest, and that said something. Whereas the rest of the mansion looked like it came from a luxury housekeeping catalogue, this part was more...personal. It had a personal touch to it, a woman's touch. And he knew Valeria had no interest in interior decoration. He passed hallways with floral and sensual pieces of art, past vases with carefully arranged flowers that probably had a deeper significance than he realised. Past a fully stocked kitchen with something freshly cooked on the stove, past a well-used sitting area decorated with pictures of two women smiling at the camera. Jealousy tugged at his heart at these displays of domesticity. He pulled a spy cam cord from his pocket and slid it underneath the door. And there on the bed, amid fluffy cushions and blankets, sat you.

And he remembered exactly who you were.

"Hermano, all good in there?" Soap's voice came through in his earpiece, jolting Alejandro from his revenge fantasy. "Si, be out in five," he whispered and pulled the camera back. It'd be more efficient to knock on the door and wait to take you with chloroform, but he could bet on his life that you were not part of the cartel. This was very much a regular civilian woman, a little trophy wife. And trophy wives can't fight off military personnel. Alejandro rammed through the door and lunged for you before you even had a moment to turn around. Having tucked yourself in your blankets, you had no time to even get up before this strange man put his hands on you.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Strange men with various insignias on their uniforms paced around the residence as you were pushed forward and towards the garden. The man was with Mexican Special Forces, that much you could tell. He laughed darkly and tightened his grip on you. "So, big El Sinobre left you behind, eh? Not so big and scary now, are we?" To your horror and surprise, a helicopter was lowering itself to the ground and shone a bright light on you, like you were a criminal. You wanted to protest that you hadn't actually done anything, but you were guilty by association. Another man leaned out of the helicopter and extended his arm to grab you. "That don't look like cartel to me, brother," a slightly Southern American accent decorated his speech as he grabbed your elbow and chucked you in. The Mexican man followed you along with some others. "She's the next best thing after Valeria, trust me. She'll come running to us in no time."

"Hermano, you sure about this? There are different rules for civilians." Another man spoke, a man with a mohawk and the Union Jack flag on his vest. The helicopter started raising itself off the ground and took off to God knows where. You were in your pyjamas still, feeling silly and vulnerable, too afraid to say anything. Valeria always warned people to stay quiet in front of enemies, and you couldn't be blamed for anything you hadn't said. "I'm positive, Hermano. I know how she works. We take something from her, and she'll come looking." The man sat right across from you, his eyes never leaving you. He was tall and dark, around Valeria's age you'd guess, maybe older. There was a menacing look in his eyes, as though he couldn't stand to look at you, yet his dark eyes never left yours. There was something else lurking underneath that you couldn't put your finger on. It was almost like hatred, though you couldn't understand why he'd hate you personally - you'd never seen him before. And yet he spoke of Valeria with such familiarity...it chilled you.

Next thing you knew, you were in some headquarters. Masses of soldiers marched to and from the facility, taking the time to glance your way as the men brought you to one of the warehouses. Amidst the uniformed men with pounds of kit on themselves, you felt naked. Within the warehouse was a metal container that, to your horror, seemed to be your new resting place. You were thrown on a chair and the container sealed shut after them. "She's being surprisingly cooperative so far," the man with the skull mask grumbled as he leaned back with his arms crossed. "Either that or poor thing doesn't speak English," said the American.

"I can speak English," you whispered and nodded to them, the first thing you said so far. "Perfecto." The American clapped his hands and walked towards you. He lowered himself to your level and brought his face menacingly close to yours, so close you could feel his breath on your cheek. "Now, we can do this the nice way. Or we can do this the army way. What will it be, sweetheart?" He stared you down with his blue eyes and you noticed the scar on his cheek; a clean slice on his combat-hardened face. You swallowed hard. "The nice way." He grinned with satisfaction and raised himself. "That's what I like to hear."

The man who kidnapped you stepped forward, towering over you and not bothering to lower himself like the American. "Where's Valeria?" He spat her name out like poison and your heart sank. "I don't kn-," you'd started saying but stopped when you saw how his eyes darkened. "She doesn't tell me anything. She keeps her business separate from me." "And who exactly are you?" The masked man spoke, his deep voice reverberating within the container. The Mexican man scoffed and paced around mumbling to himself. "This should be good." "Alejandro, please." Another man scolded in a whisper. Alejandro glared at him and shook his head, then looked at you with a deep frown that contorted an otherwise handsome face. His eyes, you realised, were looking at your fingers, one of which wore a thick golden band.

"I'm her partner." You resisted the urge to play with your ring, afraid of making any move in front of them. The American laughed loudly, making you jolt in your seat. "A cartel run by a lesbian, eh? Man, I love my job." "She's not a lesbian," Alejandro snapped quickly. The American stood up taller. "My friend, I think you need to cool off." "¡Anímate y díselo!" He yelled at you. "Alright, now hold on. How do you two know each other?" The American demanded as he pointed to you and Alejandro. "I don't know him," you mumbled and shook your head. "Mierda! You know perfectly well who I am." He exploded again. The man with the mohawk and the other Mexican man looked at you wearily, moving a little bit closer to you in light of Alejandro's outbursts. "I'm sorry, I really don't," you said with a wavering voice. That seemed to really set him off. Alejandro charged at you while swearing. "Vete al infierno hija de puta-"

The two men reached forward and drew him away from you. "Alejandro-" "Calm down, Commander." He shook them off then span around and looked at you again, his firsts curled on the handles of his vest. "Okay, go on. Speak." "I already told you she doesn't tell me anything! She doesn't want me to be involved and she doesn't tell me where she goes. I just take care of the house and that's it. And she'll be mighty pissed when she sees I'm gone." You threw your words at him.

"And now, you," the American pointed at Alejandro. "Valeria served in the Mexican Army, same unit but different squads. Until she betrayed us for the cartel. That's how I know her."

Suddenly, you realised who he was. You'd heard whispers about him amongst Valeria's friends. She would frequently be teased about 'moving camps' and being a heartbreaker. One of them even joked about how you were a homewrecking housewife. Valeria made sure you didn't see those people again. You thought it was all part of a big joke, until now. That part of her past, you guessed, must be him.

The American looked at you and you nodded. "Yes, she did that when we first met. But I don't know anything specific, she didn't tell me." The man who called Alejandro 'commander' looked at you closely and he, too, seemed familiar. He was also part of the Mexican Special Forces and seemed to be paired up with Alejandro. He had large, round brown eyes that were not unkind. He spoke up: "I remember her too. Valeria and she met just a bit before Valeria left the Mexican Army." The American looked at you with disdain after that, and the other man continued. "But she's not lying about not knowing Alejandro. Valeria kept her out of our business." You looked at him with relief and he looked away.

"Well we just pulled a heck of an operation to weed this one out, and we're not leaving until we get some answers," said the American man. "And I don't believe for a second that you're entirely clueless. Now you can either start singing or I'm gonna show you the difference between the military and me."

Notes: Thanks for reading! Link to part 2 :> Link to part 3

#call of duty valeria #valeria garza #valeria garza x reader #cod valeria #cod valeria garza #cod valeria x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty mw2 #cod modern warfare #mw2 #valeria imagines #valeria garza imagines

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lovecrime2 · 6 months

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Hannibal Lecter x Reader

summary: you begin therapy with Dr. Lecter, a man who you quickly learn much from. from his intellectuality, to the darkness hidden in the furthest parts of his mind, you become enraptured with him. will he feel the same about you? therapy sessions turn into exchanging books with notes, cooking together, and seeing more of each other in ways you both never thought possible. a love story.

authors note: hello!! this fic will have multiple chapters and i’m so excited to start this! it’s also on a03. and im creating a playlist for this!!

Chapter I: Prima

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـ

“Dr. Lecter is ready to see you now, miss.” the polite receptionist says, with a smile sent your way. It’s no more than a flash of positivity before she turns back to her paper work, reflected by her thin framed glasses. As her eyes scanned over the work, turning back to frantically look over her desk, presumably searching for something, she gave off an obvious air of worry. Perhaps she was new.

You were too.

Your first day of therapy. Well, your first day of therapy with this new psychiatrist. It wasn’t something you were exactly frantically nervous about- as the poor polite receptionist was. You’d been to therapy before. You were accustomed to the shallow invasion and prodding of the mind. This time, your hope was that this new Dr. Lecter would be unique. Different.

You’d heard many good things about him. Ranging from his written work and studies, to his success with patients. And after the worsening state of your mind and the life you had built around you, you decided that it was time to try again. So far, you weren’t disappointed. The office was classy. Nice chairs were set in the waiting room, where you had sat for some time. There was tasteful art, quiet classical music in the background. Bach, you had guessed. Other than the receptionist, it had emitted an air of class and calmness.

You flashed a smile back at the receptionist, returning the politeness.

“Thank you very much,” you replied.

You weren’t sure if she heard given how diligently she was scanning her desk currently. But it was of no matter, you had been polite, it was the most you could do. You stepped up to a wooden door, unsure if you’d have to knock. Before you could, the door was opened, and Dr. Lecter was revealed to you.

He was handsome. You weren’t one to judge or weigh value off of looks, but you would give him that simple statement. Looks were not the most important thing to you, and you certainly were not meaning it in a romantic way. But he was handsome. The eyes that quickly met yours were brown, maybe with a hint of hazel. His hair was brown as well, it shone in the light from his office. He wore a navy blue plaid suit, giving him an obvious air of seriousness, of class and respect. His lips curled into a smile, and yours followed suit.

“Miss L/N, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” he spoke, his voice was rich and soothing.

“Dr. Lecter, I’ve heard many wonderful things about you and your work. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well.” you replied calmly, mirroring his niceties and charm. He had a quiet suave demeanor. As if on instinct, you both reached your hands out for a handshake. More niceties. This doctor was very formal. You appreciated that. As your hands touched you felt his eyes scan you quickly. Almost like an eagle searching a field for prey. Though, there wasn’t malice behind this look.

“Please, do come in.” he said, leading you into his large room. And what a large room it was.

It had a mostly grey color palette, with the exception of the one wall which was a dark red. To your right was a large wall, with two large red and white striped curtains. To your left, a desk, obviously a professional one. Lamps and books and art decorated the top. Further back to your left was another desk and a chair, but nothing was on this one. Behind that, a fireplace. The room was lined with cabinets and bookshelves, and art (specifically paintings) were anything but scarce. Right in front of you however, were two chairs facing each other. And there was a ladder, on the wall behind them, leading up to another level of the room. This one was lined with books of all shapes and sizes and colors. You took note of the other items in the room. Your eyes scanned from the couch against the back wall, to the couch in front of the windows. The room seemed lightly dull at first, but the more you gazed, the more points of color stood out to you.

After having visually scoured the room, you summarized that the collection of books, European furniture, and art was not simply the doing of the building’s hypothetical interior designer. By his outfit and the look of the room, Dr. Lecter was a man of intellectuality, power, curiosity, and ambition. He was impressive.

“Have a seat, Miss L/N.” he said, gesturing to the two seats in the middle of the room- each sat directly across from the other. Each had small tables next to them, but one had a book (presumably for taking notes on patients) and a box of tissues. You assumed the seat that the book and tissue box adorned table belonged to: was his. So you took the other seat, smoothing the bottom half of your clothing as you sat down. He took a seat across from you, crossing his legs and folding his hands neatly in his lap.

“I have no doubt you know why you’re here.” he said politely. He was direct, eyes still piercing into you. You were afraid to look away. You wanted to maintain the eye contact but at the same time, the socially nervous part of you longed to break it, longed to gaze around the sophisticated room instead of facing his perceptive gaze.

“Yes, Doctor.” you replied, finally working up the courage to break the mural stare and look down as you smiled at him. He returned a brief smile, and nodded once.

“So then, I hope you won’t mind if I list off the reasons you put for requesting my psychiatric assistance which led to us meeting today?” he inquired, taking his notebook from the small table next to him.

“Not at all, go ahead.” you gave him an encouraging nod and he opened his book. As he looked over a page, a realization came to you. You realized how intimate the placing of his chairs was. You mirrored him and put one leg over the other. You wondered if this was a tactic of his to create a sense of connection, equality. Interesting.

“You have emotional regulation issues, accompanied by social anxiety. Past traumas, which I’m sure are accompanied by self-image problems, am I correct?” he asked at the end of his statement.

“Yes,” you said, pausing a moment. There was some more, but this was only the first session. You hated the way it sounded so labeled when it was later out like that, so shallow. Realizing your answer might’ve seemed curt, you rushed to say more. “Yes, that’s all correct.”

He set his book down on the side table and looked at you for a moment. The thought crossed your mind that he might be waiting for you to speak, you were about to say something when he spoke at last.

“How do you feel right now, at this very particular moment, Miss L/N?” he asked you, eyes endlessly boring into you.

“I feel,” you hesitated, trying to come up with the right words. “Comfortable and welcomed. Yet nervous.”

“I’m glad you feel comfortable and welcomed, I try to provide sufficient hospitality for those in my care. Though, tell me, why do you feel nervous?” he asked.

“I’ve just met someone new. Someone who will be peering into my mind, learning the most personal parts of me. It’s an odd thought that a man I met a few minutes ago will come to know my mind so deeply.” you replied, watching Hannibal process your answer. He had a good poker face.

“Are you afraid of what I might uncover in the depths of your mind?” he asked.

“I think everyone’s a little afraid of what can be perceived in the most personal parts of their mentality. We all have only so much we express. To the eye it may seem to show enough, but there’s so much hidden where we store our deepest thoughts.” you replied. You liked the knowledgeable banter.

“Knowing those parts of you is a fundamental aspect to your treatment, as it is to any patient. I am not here to judge, or to exploit. I am here to come to know your being and attempt to help it in a way that is beneficial to your mental well-being.” he replied.

“You make a good point, Doctor.” you replied, flashing him a smile. He returned it, and opened his book.

“Well then, shall we begin?” he asked, his eyes still focused on yours.

“Of course.” you replied.

And so began your session with Hannibal Lecter, your new psychiatrist.

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#hannibal x reader #hannibal nbc #nbc hannibal #hannibal lecter imagine #hannibal #hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x you #hannibal lecter x reader #nbc hannibal x reader #dr hannibal lecter #hannibal x reader imagine #hannibal fic #hannibal nbc fic #hanniblogging #hannibal the cannibal #hannibal the series #hannibal smut #hannibal lecter smut

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haunting-heroes-creative-games · 4 months

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✨ Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About The Haunting Heroes Discord But Didn’t Want To Ask ✨

Are you looking to join this DPxDC server but don't know what it's about? Are you new to Discord and want to figure a few dynamics about it first? Then this is the post for you!

We're Super excited to share with you some of the features you can expect when you join the Haunting Heroes DPxDC Discord server.

🔷 I’m new to Discord. What is Discord?

A noble question. Discord is a messaging/private server application where you can join servers to chat, text, and video call people. Lots of fandoms have servers dedicated to their beloved show/book/comics/blorbos

It’s a popular platform because a) it’s free and b) it’s very easy to organize.

Haunting Heroes, as such, is essentially a private chat room where you can talk about DPxDC with other fans. There are other DPxDC servers, but you can never have too many!

🔷 What do you do on Haunting Heroes?

We do a lot! If you’re here, you may have seen the results of the Writing Games we’ve played, like "Who Wrote That?" as well as "Guess That Fic" (a fun way to give fic recs AND test your DPxDC fic knowledge!).

We also share updates of fanart, non fanart, and fan fics, as well as recommendations to stories we’ve read and enjoyed.

And we have plenty of ways to discuss ideas: from canon resources to headcanons that intrigue you; from prompts to workshopping your story ideas; from asking for a beta-reader to sharing your progress. Sometimes this even happens live while doing a sprint with others.

🔷 What does ‘18+ SFW’ mean?

18+ is fairly straightforward: you have to be 18 years or older to join our server. So why SFW?

We decided to emphasize the Safe For Work aspect not because no NSFW content is allowed—we have a flourishing NSFW category as well as a Dark Category with channels for people to talk about it to your hearts’ content! We welcome more mature content, but not everyone wants to engage in it, or only want to engage on their own terms. Being able to curate what you do and don't see is important to us, hence the separate categories (and having to self-select a role to see the NSFW + Dark channels)

We add SFW when talking about HH because ‘18+’ on its own has certain connotations (just like ‘adult content’ or ‘adults only’).

Why, then, are we an 18+ server? We appreciate the under 18s in our fandom, and there are lots of fandom places that are open to all ages (for example, this blog!). But there are older fans who feel more comfortable in an adult oriented space. We noted that a place for adults only in the DPxDC fandom was missing, and wanted to fill that niche.

🔷 Why Should I Join?

✏️ If you’re a writer, you can find a beta reader or ping the Ideas Helper role if you want some help with your story. You can find and share resources for various things, such as writing, art, and how to use A03.

🐱 We also share lots of pictures of our pets!

💡 We have fun emojis and stickers unique to Haunting Heroes, many made by people who are part of the server.

⭐️ We have a starboard! If someone says something you find funny, react to their post with a star emoji; if a post gets 9 stars, it gets shared to the board! It’s like the highlights reel at the end of a Mario Kart Race, but user generated. It's a good way to quickly know what's been going on in the server.

🐰 Our Bunny Hutch (AKA prompts sharing category) is always hopping. Enter at your own risk! You may go there with the intention of dropping off one prompt for someone else to adopt, and leave having adopted 4 new WIPS of your own!

And most importantly, we are a fandom community looking to share with each other the things we love doing or seeing in the fandom. You are likely to find writers, artists, and commenters you know from AO3 or Tumblr, but you might also find new friends to hang out with or be inspired by new things while lurking.

🔷 What can I expect upon joining?

☑️ Once you join, you will have to read our guidelines to make sure you agree with them and know what you can expect in terms of how we handle the server.

☑️ There are also roles to be selected so you can customize your experience. Some roles will allow you to give information to other members (such as the pronouns you select), others will give you an aesthetic (such as color roles), others are pingable and alert you for specific activities (such as movie nights ,or a new writing game being set up, or when someone wants others to bounce ideas). Some will also grant you access to specific sections in our server, such as dark or nsfw channels, which won't be visible otherwise.

☑️ Don't forget to also select the 18+ role which grants you acces to the whole server. This one is made specifically to confirm you agree with the guidelines and are 18 or older, since that's our sole requirement to join the server.

☑️ Once you define your roles, you can check our server roadmap to guide you through the many channels we have in the server with descriptions for each of them and the bots we have available to help through the experience.

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xiaq · 11 months

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Is it time for a Steddie time travel fix-it AU? (yes)

A03

There’s something wrong with Steve Harrington.

It’s not that Eddie’s watching him. Not that he pays any special attention to him. But the guy is noticeable. He’s the closest thing Hawkins has to royalty: Rich. Star athlete. Attractive. He’s the cliche golden boy of every teen movie with his polos and letterman jacket and vacant, pretty smile as he walks down hallways with his arm around the girl-of-the-week. He’s a predictable staple; a static figure in the horror script that is Eddie’s high school existence.

So when Steve Harrington shows up to school on an otherwise ordinary Wednesday looking and acting really fucking different, Eddie notices.

Well, he doesn’t actually look all that different. The clothes are normal. But his hair is far from its typical careful coiffure, and there’s a frantic energy to him as he shoves his way through the double doors and jogs into the empty hallway.

He doesn’t see Eddie, tucked in the bathroom alcove.

The only people at the school this early are the marching band kids, wrapping up their hellishly early practice, and Eddie, waiting to sell to a tuba player with no concept of how much weed should actually cost. Eddie has no intention of informing him.

Steve Harrington, pacing in front of a segment of lockers, checking his watch, shoving his fingers through his hair, is wildly out-of-place in the bright-lit early-morning hallway.

And then, things get weirder.

Because Robin Buckley exits the band room and they both freeze.

“Fuck,” she says, “are you––”

“Rob,” Steve says, and it's the most gut-wrenching sound Eddie has maybe ever heard in his life.

She throws herself at him and they hug like—Eddie doesn’t even know. Like the people you see on the news from war zones who thought their family had been killed before a miraculous reunion.

“Are you ok?” she asks, voice cracked and carrying in the empty hallway. “I woke up this morning and my mom was just acting like everything was normal and I had to get to practice and I thought maybe it had all been some fucked up dream but even I’m not that creative.” She pushes away from him, tugging up the bottom of his shirt, “what about––are you––?”

He grabs her wrist, shaking his head. “No, I’m fine. I’m completely fine. I’m just…1983 me.”

What the fuck, Eddie thinks.

Well, he’s already been thinking that, but. What does that even mean? What else would he be?

“Are the kids ok?”

What kids?

“I don’t know. I don’t have a walkie or anything anymore it’s all––” Steve gestures, “reset. And if this is ‘83 then they’re all actual children again, El might not even be––and what if they don’t––”

“They have to. I mean, if we do, they have to, right?”

Are they on drugs? Is he on drugs? The blunt he smoked last night shouldn’t cause hallucinations. He pinches himself. Ow.

The band hall doors open again and Eddie shifts further into the alcove as several horn players walk past.

“We can figure things out after school,” Steve murmurs. “We just have to hold it together until then. I don’t know if we’re stuck here or not but if we are––”

“Right. Act normal. Just normal, 16-year-old Robin things. No problem.”

They grab each other again, a tight, desperate, embrace that is not at all normal, Eddie feels it’s important to point out. He didn’t even think that Harrington knew Buckley existed. It’s almost as strange as if Harrington decided to hug Eddie. Inexplicable.

They separate, Robin rubbing at her eyes and Harrington muttering something about not remembering his locker combination. Eddie’s customer arrives before he can decide if he wants to investigate things further.

Focusing in his first period is even more impossible than usual. Focusing on math is tedious enough normally, but when Robin Buckley and Steve Harrington are having some sort of shared nervous breakdown it’s even harder to care about logarithmic functions.

He sees Steve again in the hallway after first period and Eddie will admit he’s actively looking for him now. Steve is talking in hushed tones to Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Beyers of all people. His hair is an absolute wreck, and his posture is…Eddie doesn’t know how to describe it. 'Aggressive' isn’t quite right but it’s close.

And then, like Harrington has some sort of intuition he’s being watched, he glances up and meets Eddie’s eyes.

Eddie doesn’t know why he runs. His fight or flight instincts have been well-honed his 4 years at Hawkins High and there’s something about the feral-ness in Steve’s stance, the completely unfathomable emotion in his eyes, that has Eddie shoving his way around the corner and into the bathroom. He drops his lunchbox into the sink and pushes both hands into his hair with a quietly muttered: “fuck.” He feels like he might be going crazy.

The door opens.

“Eddie,” Steve says.

It sounds strangely similar to the way he’d said “Rob” that morning–full of something Eddie doesn’t understand.

“Harrington,” he says warily.

Steve takes two steps forward and Eddie automatically scrambles backward, running into the wall and bashing his elbow against the paper towel dispenser. Steve has never actually hurt him before, but some of the guys he hangs out with have and—

Steve freezes: both hands out, reaching for nothing.

“You don’t—?”

There’s a question, there, but Eddie has no idea what it is.

“Eddie?” he says again. This time, it’s desperate and Eddie has no idea why.

The only time he’s ever seen someone’s eyes look like this is when he was looking at his own reflection in the church’s bathroom mirror, clinging to the sink at his mother’s funeral.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks.

Steve’s jaw works. “You don’t remember,” he says blankly.

“Remember what? You’re kinda freaking me out, dude, which is impressive, considering,” he gestures expansively to himself, gives a little shake of his hips so the chains rattle.

Steve doesn’t laugh.

“You don’t remember,” he repeats, more to himself than Eddie. “But you’re ok?”

He’s looking at Eddie’s chest.

“Yes? A-okay. Tip top. Hagan barely touched me yesterday, if that’s what you’re talking about.”

“Tommy hurt you?” Steve says.

Well, shit. The crazy eyes are back.

“Man, why do you care?”

“Sorry,” Steve says. “I’m sorry, I know this doesn’t make any sense to you, but can I just–”

Eddie lets him approach, this time. Lets him reach out to touch. It’s just one hand, at first, tentative, like Steve is expecting to be rebuffed, palm cupped to the ball of his shoulder over his jacket. “Sorry,” he says again, letting go only to reach for the hem of Eddie’s shirt, “Sorry, I know I probably sound crazy, I just––” he pulls it up, stares at Eddie’s side, and then lets out a hysterical little noise that sounds like a cross between a laugh and a sob.

“You’re ok,” he says.

His fingers are hot on Eddie’s skin, pressed light and shockingly reverent to the space between his hip and rib cage.

“You’re ok,” he repeats. It sounds like he’s trying to convince himself.

“Hey,” Eddie says, it comes out more breathless than he’d prefer but Steve fucking Harrington has him backed against a wall in a bathroom with his hands up Eddie’s shirt so he thinks a little lack of air is warranted. “Are you ok?”

The fingers on his abdomen flex.

“No,” Steve says. His eyes are wide and fathomless and the look on his face is terrible. “No, I’m not even remotely ok.”

It sounds like a confession.

Steve lets go of Eddie’s shirt.

He takes a studied step back but then stops, palm still splayed on Eddie’s side, free hand reaching for Eddie’s arm, for his elbow, to cling, like he can’t quite force himself to stop touching; not yet. He’s looking at Eddie like Eddie has broken his heart which doesn’t make any sense because they don’t know each other. They’ve never spoken directly to each other in their lives. So there’s no reason that Steve should be looking at him, like, like––

Like he is.

They’re breathing each other’s second-hand air and Eddie can smell him and there have only been a few times in his life when a boy has looked at Eddie with even half the want that Steve Harrington is looking at him with now. And never, never has a man who looks like Steve Harrington looked at Eddie with anything approaching whatever the hell is on Steve’s face.

“Eddie,” Steve says, and he sounds so lost.

Eddie’s not proud of it.

He runs away.

He shoves Steve to the side, wrenches open the door, and runs without stopping through the hall, outside, down the sidewalk, and onto the main road. He runs until he has to stop because he can’t breathe and only then does he bend over, hands braced on knees, and look behind him. He almost expects to see Steve has followed him.

He hasn’t.

Eddie can't decide if he's relieved by that or not. And then he realizes he’s left his entire stash in the lunchbox in the bathroom.

“Fuck,” he hisses, straightening, hands on his head, lungs aching.

“Fuck,” he says again, just for the hell of it.

He has no idea what’s happening.

But what he does know is that something is seriously wrong with Steve Harrington.

Pt2 here.

#steddie #steddie fic #time travel #myfic #mywriting #steve harrington/eddie munson #eddie x steve #steve x eddie #robin & steve

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nexysworld · 3 months

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Summary: He warned you not to run. The consequences of trying to escape were made very clear - but you didn't listen, did you? Now you get to suffer for the choices you made. Alternatively: lots of monsterfucking with true form Sukuna.

Pairing: Sukuna x Fem!Reader Tags: NSFW, Smut, MDNI, Monsterfucking, True Form Sukuna, Two Dicks 4 arms baby, canon typical violence (not to reader), descriptions of death/blood (not reader), dub-con (reader is into it by the end), tongue fucking, oral, Unprotected Sex, reader gets referred to as a pet, no use of y/n.

Read on A03 || Ask Box || Masterlists

AN: Similar to my Toji fic, this is the first time writing for Sukuna. Hope I did it justice.

“There you are, Little One.”

The deep gravelly voice tickled at your eardrums before the wall behind you crackled and exploded, sending debris shooting past you. Outside light from the city lit up what was left of the now destroyed building, where you sat on the floor stunned. Heartbeat in your throat, you dared to stand, forcing your stiffened body to turn and face him. “I told you, if you tried to run, I’d kill every person in the city.” He smiled lazily, recounting his own words, amused as you stiffened where you stood. He stepped closer, each footfall making the air feel heavier around you, forcing you still. “And yet you ran anyway.” His large hand cupped your cheek before patting it softly, the way one might a puppy on its head. “I can’t imagine you believed you could get away. So I assume you were looking for a display of power.”

‘No. No. Tell him no. He’s wrong.’ Your brain worked the words up, bouncing around your skull desperate for escape before halting and dying in your dry throat. Not so much as a whimper came out.

“And since you want to see my power so badly. I saved the finale of the show for last.”

It only took a second for him to leap from the floor of the building to the ground below, you in tow under his arm. The weightless feeling, you always hated it. Disorienting and nauseating. The world blurred, colors mashing together as wind whistled in your ears.

He tossed you onto the ground like a sack of potatoes, knocking the wind out of you. You pushed yourself up, the pavement rough under your palms. Not ready to make eye contact with him again, you scanned side to side. The city was in ruin, smoke and flames curling into each other as they danced around blocking the sky. What wasn’t burning or sparking with torn electrical lines, lay crumbled around. Specks that looked like ants littered the debris, your stomach threatening to come up once it occurred to you the ants were people. Bodies. Everywhere. The familiar feeling of saliva pooled in your mouth, you desperately swallowed it down, face tensing as you willed the feeling back. “You’re missing the most important view, Little One.” He cooed, turning your form to face the opposite direction. “N-no.” The words left you in an airy whisper. Three friends, lined up in front of you, forced to kneel down in a respectful bow. “Yes, actually.” This time he nuzzled into your neck from behind. “Look at them.” “Y-you can’t.” Your eyes squeezed tight, unwilling to look at the scene before you. “I can.” He brought his hand around you, squeezing your face to lift your head, holding you in position. “Open your eyes.” When you didn’t comply, he squeezed harder, a forceful grip that made you feel like your bones would shatter beneath his fingers. “Open your eyes, or I’ll start with their toes. Make you listen to their cries of pain.”

You complied this time, cracking one eye open, then the other. “Now then, who first? You pick.”

“I can’t –” You’d never heard a scream like that before. Sharp, like nails on a chalkboard before it died off into a pathetic sob. To prove his point, your friend’s foot was removed from her body, making her almost fall out of her bowing stance. In a panic you brought your shaky hands up to point at the same girl, not wanting her to suffer. “H-her.”

You could feel the way his smile widened as his cheek was still pressed against yours. You saw two painted fingers wave just slightly in your peripheral, and the boy next to her split open all over, the piece of him collapsing to the ground. You tried to turn your face again, but his grip held firm. “Wh-why?” “You didn’t ask properly, pet.” His words felt like ice in the pit of your chest.

Footless girl, fear-stricken, tried to run for it as she saw the remnants of the boy in the middle. A pathetic sight as she scrambled to her good leg, using a street rail to try and hop, blood trailing behind her. The same flick of his fingers, and her good leg was gone. Determined she continued, desperately clinging to the rail, pulling her torso along. “Yes, yes! Keep going, see how far you get.” Sukuna laughed as he watched the spectacle.

Her breath was so ragged you could hear it even at this distance, shocked that she could move at all with the blood loss. Her movements slowed as she reached the end of the rail. “Looks like you have nowhere else to go.” He mused.

And like that, she was gone too – head disappearing into thin air as if it never existed at all.

“And like that I’m bored.” He said flatly, your final friend combusting into a gush of blood before disintegrating. He didn’t even give the boy a second look. Your knees wobbled, if not for his grip you’d have hit the ground, brain too overstimulated to process. He said something to you, but it didn’t register, your vision blinking in and out before you ragdolled entirely.

*******************

You woke some time later, no real way to gauge how long – head heavy on your neck. Pawing at your sleepy eyes, you looked around not noting anything familiar. It was an older house, tatami flooring with a sliding door that was opened into the backyard. You could hear the thwacking of the bamboo fountain as it filled and emptied itself. Greenery and moonlight encompassed your vision, no sign of the city wreckage you’d been subjected to earlier.

Scanning down at yourself, you had been scrubbed clean. Tattered clothes replaced with a soft bathrobe, hair brushed and smelling of flowers. It felt wrong. Pampered and preened like a prized doll while your friends, no, while all of those people suffered. You wanted to scrunch up and cry, red faced and ugly. Force the world away while you wallowed.

“He wishes to see you now.”

Uraume’s voice made you startle, skin prickling as if it could fling itself right off your skeleton. You hadn’t noticed her presence or when she’d even entered the room. She didn’t give you the opportunity to reply either, yanking you up by the sleeve of the robe – your leash. You had no choice but to follow, using your hands to hold the fabric closed, not wanting to expose yourself to her, or the cold air. She took a hard right down a long hallway, then a sharp left – headed to the mainroom of the home, in the dead center. She finally let go of you in order to slide the double doors open, pushing you forward, and sliding them shut behind you. He sat in the center of the room on top of some colorful blankets. He was too far away and the room too dimly lit for you to see him clearly – but you could tell something was off. “Come here.” He commanded, head resting in his palm.

It was an automated response as you stepped forward, one foot, then another. A puppet on strings, hobbling forward. As his features came into view, you understood now why he looked so off. He looked less like Shuji now, that was for sure. An extra set of muscular arms were folded atop his lap, just beneath the regular ones. All four of his eyes opened, the left ones glowing red, skin distorted around them.

You froze. Just for a second, fear forcing your legs to bring you forward again until you were standing before him. Your hands kept their death grip on your robe, nearly hugging yourself. Sukuna straightened up where he was seated, all four pupils locked onto you. “What’s the matter, Little One? Don’t like my true form?”

You shook your head, not sure if the right answer was the truth or not. Luckily for you, it was. He laughed, amused by your timidness. “Very well. But I think you’ll grow to enjoy it, and all of its offerings soon enough.”

Not a clue what he meant by that, you stayed your position unmoving, staring back at him.

He looked you over one more time, scratching his chin. “Enough of this boring silence. Remove your robe.”

Your face went red at the commend, grip tightening further until the blood left your hands. It took only seconds to decide that the consequences of not listening would outweigh the embarrassed shyness you felt. Slowly, you pulled at the soft fabric – “Too slow.” Wind gusted past you, fabric shredding and hitting the ground, leaving you in nothing but the sleeves. You didn’t need to look down to know you were bare before him, your arms finally opening enough to let the remaining scraplets of fabric slide off of you and onto the floor. It was too reminiscent of your friend, the way he’d hit the ground in pieces.

He reached out one of his bottom arms, grasping at your arm to tug you forward into a sitting position on his lap. Both lower limbs came to rest on your hips, holding you there. His top left hand came up to your face, stroking it gently with the back of his hand. “Beautiful, pet. I haven’t seen a human with such captivating features in a very long time.”

His free hand snaked up your side before kneading at your breast. He pinched at your nipple, tweaking the perky bud, playing with it. The urge to squirm had you attempting to move your hips, still halted by his firm grip, the rest of your body still tense. “Hmm. You’re too stiff.” He let go of your breast, leaning back on his top hands to look at you again. “Relax.” “I can’t.” Your bottom lip wiggled, eyebrows coming together as you looked down at the monster beneath you. You weren’t sure what you wanted more, to cry, or to wail on him after everything. But you knew better than to do either. “You have nothing to fear from me, at least not now.” He added, releasing the grip on one half of your hips, rubbing your lower back tenderly. “Or maybe, it's not just fear.” He pulled you upwards slightly, so you were sitting more onto his stomach as he leaned back. “Regardless, you’ll be pliable soon enough.”

Both his bottom set of limbs smoothed up your sides, kneading at your breasts, thumbs rubbing gently over your nipples. Your toes curled slightly at the sensation, hands reaching forward to brace yourself against his chest. “That’s it.” He cooed. “Feels good, yes?” He replies, continuing to tenderly massage your chest. You nod, bringing your sight to his chest, unwilling to look him in the eyes while in such a compromising position. You were angry with yourself for reacting this way to him. You didn’t want him to garner any satisfaction, show any level or pleasure – and yet all it took was him playing with your sensitive tits to get you squirming.

Involuntarily you moved your hips, grinding against his abs to get some relief from the aching sensation between your legs. The hard muscles were an interesting feeling, the ridge of them bumping your clit with enough force to make you hiss with pleasure. His hands gave your chest one last squeeze before pulling away. Something wet lapped at you between your legs, making you whine before jumping with confusion. “You taste delicious.” Your head tilted to the side with confusion, before one of his hands pointed down. You followed the direction of the digit, another wet sensation against your clit made you jolt slightly before you finally saw the culprit. A mouth on his stomach, sitting squarely between his lower abs. It had no lips, but a large pink and slobbery tongue poked out, tasting at you. You watched as it licked against the entirety of your pussy, flat and slippery. It did it again, like licking ice cream. Confliction of disgust and pleasure melded together in your mind, nipples pebbling as your cunt squeezed together craving something to cling to as the muscle continued to attack your clit. The heady whine that flung from your throat made you feel pathetic, but your legs shook from the pleasure, thighs tensing around his stomach. “Much better, Little One.” He praised, sliding you back to where you were seated directly over the mouth’s opening. “Let yourself enjoy the pleasure.” The tongue stopped its movement, drawing away from your bundle of nerves, making you whimper disappointedly. You realized why it had retracted a moment later when it was prodding at your slippery hole before diving in. The sensation was unlike anything you’d ever felt before, much longer and thicker than a human tongue, yet not as stiff as a cock. It wormed inside of you, stretching you out gently, the tip easily finding that special spot inside of you. “A-hng!” You whined out feeling yourself cinch around the muscle that continued tasting your insides. His hands took purchase on your sides, grinding you down onto him again while his tongue fucked you. Your own hands grasping at his arms for support while he moved you effortlessly against him. Your breasts bounced with the movements, the tension between your legs threatening to snap at any moment. He could sense it before you. “Good. Good pet, cum for me.” He commanded, the tongue flattening itself inside of you against the spot that had you seeing stars. His hands moved you faster against him. Like a well trained dog, you heeded the command – white hot pleasure exploding from your core before spreading out reaching the ends of your nerves, skin tingling.

Panting, you let go of his arms, falling backwards from the heaviness in your limbs. He caught you easily, sitting up again while he cradled you before placing you down on the bedding in front of him. There was a tent in his pants, the large indentation straining against the fabric. Your eyes stayed glued to it, half lidded as your pussy leaked spit and juices onto the blanket.

By the size of the bulge you could tell he was big. Not surprising given he was barely human. What did make your eyes widen into saucers, was the sight of him undoing his fabric belt, freeing himself. One fat cock sprung free, the tip drooling with beads of precum already, twitching and pulsing with need. It was massive, but human-enough. Below it though, a second one emerged, equally as large and leaky as the one above it.

You stared at them, intimidated, fearful. “Now lets see.” He stroked the top one a few times, more precum pearling at the tip before dripping off onto the bottom one. “It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to have fun in this form. Should I breed you with both of them at the same time?” His top most eyes narrowed as he watched your response.

Wide eyed and afraid – exactly how he liked you. He laughed, taking the massive cock he was stroking and smacked it against your cheek a few times, leaving a sticking trail of precum. The cooling sensation of it, as it dried in the night air made you shudder.

That word though, breed. The thought made you bristle as if this situation couldn't get any more awful. “N-no. Please don’t. I don’t think I.. I don’t want to be bred.” Where the confidence came to speak in this situation, you’ll never know.

He laughed again. “You don’t think? Little One, your job isn’t to think, not anymore. Not ever again. You do as you're told. Like a good pet. Now, come here.” He motioned for you to come closer.

You didn’t move, looking up at him, a small act of defiance – or at least it was supposed to be. The reality was you were too disgusted and petrified to move. Tears were soaking your cheeks again, plopping against your knees before rolling off onto the blanket.

He raised a brow, curious at your reaction. “Why are you crying?” “Because I–” The words stopped again, choked up in a sob. You rubbed your fists against your eyes, swiping them away. “I can’t do this. Not with you. Not after….please.” “Not after what? If you’re going to accuse, do it with your whole chest girl.” “It’s not an accusation! You killed them! You destroyed the city!” You wailed, grabbing the blanket in your fists.

He dropped his cock to put the hand on his stomach, leaning back into a full deep bellowy laugh, clearly finding your outrage and tears hilarious. He finally calmed down, smile still stretched onto his features. His two upper hands cupped your face, the lower ones moving to drag you forward, closer to him, until your noses nearly touched. “Who made me do that?” He asked, mockingly. “Who knew the consequences of her actions, but chose to be a cowardly little mouse anyway?” “B-but –” “No buts. You ran. They died. It’s all your fault, isn’t it?” He cooed, smoothing your tears away from your eyes. “S-stop it.” “Stop what? Reminding you of your own misfortune? Tch. Can’t even take responsibility for your own ineptitude.” He rubbed his nose against yours, a bunny kiss. “This is exactly why you’re not made to think, Little One. Can’t handle more than a thought rattling around up there before you’re in tears. Pathetic. Cute but pathetic.” Yanking you even closer, he had you reseated on him, just above the two appendages between his legs. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll clear all the thoughts out of that head. You’ll only be able to think of me from now on, no more guilt. Sounds nice, doesn’t it?” He pat your head, not giving you the chance to reply, leaning down to lock his lips with yours.

It was a rough kiss, messy, but softer than expected. You let out a “mmph!” into his mouth when you felt the tip of his cock prod against your hole, still slicked up from the tongue. He let go of the kiss, a trail of saliva connecting you both. His hands gripped you, sliding you down over the shaft, the stretch too much at first. As if sensing your discomfort, his abs parted again, the tongue making its way out to flick against you as you adjusted to where you were seated on him. A new gush of slick pooled out of you as your cunt clenched around him while the tongue worked your sensitive bud. It felt good, incredibly good.

“See? Just give in.” He spoke through grunts, beginning to slide you up and down his length. Each time the head of his cock would press against your inwardly sensitive spot before gliding past to kiss your cervix. The tongue below continued to circle and lick at your clit as best it could, following the motions of his hands. You were weightless to him, no harder to manipulate than a fleshlight.

Legs trembling again, your back arched as much as would allow in this position, tensing like a bow string before that familiar tidal wave of pleasure crashed down on you. This time far more intense than before as the tongue kept lapping, his cock kept drilling. Your vision had white spots scattered about, each aftershock of pleasure made you squeal.

Every now and then, the bottom cock would slap at your ass as he glided you back down. The overstimulation nearly hurt with pleasure, a sensation you didn’t think possible to experience. A particularly hard thrust had you whine out again, this time tongue out like a panting puppy, just trying to catch your breath.

He adjusted your positions, this time so your back was pressed into the blanket, legs folded against you. It made the feeling of being full intense, like he was reaching into your ribcage and popping your lungs with each movement. One hand laid flat onto your stomach, splayed out as the outline of his cock disappeared and reappeared beneath it, before pressing down. The pressure was all it took to make you cum again, toes curling, arms clawing at his back to cope with the sensation. Whatever thoughts, worries, memories had been swirling in your brain were dumped out – replaced only with a comforting black numbness as you squeezed your eyes shut, snippets of Sukuna flashing in every now and then.

A few more quick thrusts on his end had him spilling into you, hot cum warming your belly from within, spilling out of your cunt from the overflow. His movements slowed, keeping a pace that was pleasing enough to ride out his own orgasm, but not too quick to overstimulate himself.

Tired. You were tired now, could fall asleep at any moment. He patted your cheek again to get your attention. Lazily, you turned to look at him, chest still heaving as you caught your breath. “I’m not done yet, on your belly.” The thought of getting to blackout on pleasure again made your sore pussy ache again. You beamed him a dopey smile, giggling, before forcing yourself to roll over. You ignored the tired ache in your limbs, lifting your butt up for him. “What a good pet.” He praised. “Learning so quickly.” Sukuna placed the second cock at your entrance, slipping it in easily. He leaned forward, sinking his teeth into your shoulder, rubbing soothing circles into your hip when you yelped. “Marked up, just for me.” He added. “My royal lap dog.”

You nodded eagerly as best you could, face squished down into the bedding. “Bark for me.” “Woof! Woof! Woof!” Humiliation didn’t have a spot in your fucked out blank brain.

“Good girl.” He said through a dry laugh, continuing to pound into you from behind. “Do it again.” “Woof! Woof!”

“Like you mean it, brat.”

You scaled up the pitch a little, bringing your ass back to meet his thrusts. “Woof!”

He rewarded your good behavior by leaning back on his legs, using all four hands to grip you firmly, rabbiting into your tight hole from behind at nearly and inhuman speed. Your front remained flopped forward, mouth open, drooling pooling against your cheek as a fourth orgasm was ripped from you. “That’s it. That’s my good pet, taking all I have to give you.” He grunted one last time before you felt the telltale twitch of the second cock told you he was close. It throbbed inside of you again, pumping more of his seed into your spent hole. He smacked your ass lightly. “What do we say?” “Th-thank you.” You replied dumbly, leg muscles twitching as your lower half slid off of his softening cock and down onto the bed. Your eyes were too heavy now to keep open even as you fought the impending feeling of sleep pulling you down. He said something else, but you didn’t catch what it was, slightly jostled awake by the feeling of being moved.

He’d laid you flat onto him, two arms holding you in place while a third gently stroked your hair and back. The warmth of his chest and the heavy heart beating sound were what did you in, finally letting that happy sinking feeling take over. No thoughts of anything, not even your slain friends as you curled up on him, out like a light.

#Ryomen Sukuna #Ryomen Sukuna x Reader #Sukuna #Sukuna x Reader #Jujutsu Kaisen #Jujutsu Kaisen x Reader #Sukuna x You #Sukuna x Y/N #Jujutsu Kaisen Fanfiction #Fanfic #Oneshot #x reader #Reader Insert #Sukuna jjk #jjk fanfiction #jjk x reader

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0vereasy · 4 months

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Life’s Creations and Love’s Manifestations - Dr Ratio x Female Reader

Summary: Your promotion as one of the heads of the Security Department at Herta’s Station was full of many headaches, one of the biggest being a visiting scholar from the Intelligentsia Guild, and delegate of the IPC, Dr. Ratio.

When you were forced to team up with him to solve several crises emerging at the Station, how will your tense relationship change? And what exactly is the Doctor hiding?

Dr Ratio x Reader, implied Screwllum x Reader

LATER CHAPTERS WILL BE BASED ON THE 1.6 TRAILBLAZER QUEST!

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Masterlist | Chapter 2

Chapter 1: New Arrival

Word count: 5.7k+

“I’ve got to say, Mr. Screwllum,” your voice was smooth as you spoke, a clear playful undertone underlying your words. You crossed your legs in the chair you sat in, leaning in slightly closer to the robot. Your elbow rested on your knee as you leaned in, hand moving to support your chin and to cover the growing smirk on your features, “An offer for dinner and drinks? In your private quarters? At this late hour?” your gaze briefly flicked to a nearby computer screen, scanning the time, before moving back to your robot companion, “If I didn’t know any better, I would guess you were asking me on a date.”

“Hypothesis: Would that particular offer be so awful, dear?” Screwllum’s face, as usual, was devoid of emotion, his robotic features forever remaining neutral. His voice though; that was what you had to focus on to understand his tone; his meaning. Based on the way he was speaking now, you knew the robot, like yourself, had less than pure thoughts running through his mind, his robotic tone of voice lighter than usual, playful even, “It is not as if you frequenting my quarters at such a late hour is a rare occurrence. Question: Would it be an offence to catch up with someone I hold so dear?”

“Hmm, I suppose not,” you hummed, drumming your fingers against your chin in playful thought, “You know I’m not the kind of woman to turn down drinks… or your company for that matter.” You let a small chuckle escape the ever-permanent smirk on your lips, “I wonder though; what ideas do you have to occupy our evening after our little dinner party is complete?” You uncrossed your legs, briefly standing up to scootch your office chair closer to his, your warm knees now touching his cold metallic ones, “It must be something important; you interrupted my on the job after all.” Your eyes scanned the dark security room, focusing briefly on the cameras you were supposed to be watching. As expected, they were devoid of activity, researchers and most security members long having retreated to their quarters for the evening. You were happy for the privacy though, considering the direction of your little conversation. You were quick to focus back on him

“Ah yes, the job you were so carefully conducting whilst reading the same book you have been trying to complete for the last two months,” the book was now long discarded on the desk, the boring contents much less important than your current predicament. You narrowed your eyes none-the-less, allowing yourself to rest a hand on the robot’s metallic knee in front of you.

“A genius like yourself should know your company is more valuable than one of Adler’s little research books,” you said slyly, allowing your hand to drift slightly further up Screwllum’s thigh, “You can’t hide anything for me, you know. So tell me, Mr. Screwllum; what exactly do you have planned for tonight?”

He sighed, letting a small chuckle escape that had you clenching your knees together to control yourself, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by your companion, “Conclusion: You are right, nothing escapes your careful observations, dear,” the usually cold security room seemed impossibly warm now, your heartbeat increasing in your chest as Screwllum copied your actions, allowing his own metallic hand rest on your knee, “During my previous trip, I happened to stumble upon a quaint shop that sold candles and such,” he started, his words slow and sensual, leaving you internally grasping for more, “The owner happened to sell a collection of essential oils as well; for massages.”

“Interesting,” was your simple reply, not trusting yourself to comment further as a flood of dirty imagery grew in your brain. Screwllum watched your expression carefully, another chuckle escaping his metal mouth that had you completely willing and ready to jump out of your stupid office chair and straddle him right there and then.

“Hypothesis: I know you have been stressed lately. Conclusion: A relaxing meal and massage may help revitalize you before Ruan Mei’s expected visit. I have been told that I am exceptional with my hands.” You couldn’t help but swallow hard at that, your throat bobbing slightly as Screwllum’s began massaging your knee with his hand, fingers expertly kneading the flesh. You resisted the urge to clench your thighs together once more.

“You’re always full of surprises,” your voice was slightly shaky this time, body hyper-focused on his touch on your knee. You stood up again, allowing you to be face-to-face with the robot who usually towered over you, “I gotta say though, I’m curious about one thing… Mr. Screwllum.” You whispered his name, your words causing goosebumps on your own skin, as if the universe or some aeon out there was making up for the lack of physical reaction that Mr. Screwllum could afford from his own body.

“And what would that be?” He asked simply, glowing green eyes staring back at you defiantly, briefly flickering to your hands, which now rested around his neck, allowing your two bodies to be even closer together. At this rate, you weren’t even sure you could make it to dinner, your arousal ever-growing.

“Everyone knows that massages start at the shoulders,” you commented, rubbing his own metallic shoulders through his shirt, despite the knowledge that the motion would do nothing for him, “and then often trail down the back,” you allowed your hands to dip down his metal spine slowly, brushing the green butterfly wings on his back “but ultimately, they have to stop,” your hands came to a rest at his hips, your face moving close to his so you could whisper in his metallic ear, “So, Mr. Screwllum, where will your hands end up?”

He chuckled, one of his hands tilting your chin slightly so he could better look you in the eye. The room was practically spinning then, your hair clinging to your forehead due to the heat building up in the small space, “Interesting line of inquiry, my dear. Of course, my hands would end up-”

BRINGGGGG BRINGGGGG

The sudden ring of your walkie talkie from the desk made you jump, you and Screwllum separating from each other, and whatever little world you had been in, in shock. You muttered a curse under your breath as you slumped back into your chair, trying to contain your annoyance as you spoke, “This is Y/N from the security department. What is it?” You rubbed your thighs together angrily as if you were a horny teenager who couldn’t get off… though you supposed that description was pretty accurate given the circumstances.

“Y/N, it’s Leonard reporting from the Supply Zone,” you couldn’t help but hold back your groan, glad that audio could only transport through thesed damned devices. Of all the people who had to call you right now, it had to be Leonard? The same Leonard who managed to lose a hacking battle with that damned Stellaron Hunter girl? The man attracted too much drama for a night like this, “there’s a ship trying to dock in the Zone, but we weren’t expected any visitors!”

“And the identity of this person?” you asked, forcing yourself to switch into work mode despite the ever-growing desire to make out with the robot beside you. Your swift fingers quickly pulled up the feed from the Supply Zone, showing a modest sized ship waiting for permission to dock, the few staff around looking between each other and the ship like lost, confused dogs.

“He says his name is…. Dr. Ratio, a scholar from the Intelligencia Guild,” Leonard repeated the name awkwardly. At the mention of the Intelligencia Guild, you looked back at your robot companion, exchanging a look, “He says he’s a representative of the IPC on his way to Penacony, and that he emailed Ms. Asta early this evening about dropping by for a few days.” Leonard paused for a few seconds, not yet hanging up the call from his end of the line, “He’s getting impatient that we won’t let him dock, and we don’t know what to do! Were just following protocol after all.”

You let a few seconds of silence pass, briefly closing your eyes as you internally kissed your evening of drinks and a massage goodbye, “...Tell him that I’m on my way to the Supply Zone… I’ll come as quickly as I can.”

“Roger that, thanks!” Leonard sighed in relief, the walkie talkie going flat as the line died. You resisted the urge to groan and bury your head in your hands, instead only allowing a frustrated sigh to break through your lips.

“I’m sorry Screwllum… I have to deal with this tonight,” you stood up, patting the robot on the shoulder sympathetically, “but maybe we can make another night work… I still want to take you up on that massage offer.” You spoke, leaving the implied context of those words unaddressed.

“It is quite alright dear, your work is more important that our leisure, though I must admit that your prescence in my chambers will be missed tonight,” Screwllum spoke honestly, grabbing one of your hands and squeezing it in his hold, metallic grasp, “But I will look forward to having you grace me with your prescence in the upcoming days.”

“Thanks for understanding,” you said earnestly with a small sigh, quickly pressing a kiss to his metallic cheek before regrettably letting his hand fall from yours, turning away to grab your walkie talkie and Station ID card and lanyard, which you let hang around your neck, “Do you know about this Ratio dude at all? Name ring any bells?”

“Affirmative, I have heard of him,” Screwllum nodded, “He’s known for his desire to spread knowledge across the universe… and his arrogance and self-centered nature.”

“Sounds like a pleasure to deal with tonight,” you rolled your eyes, turning back to Screwllum briefly, “I’m sorry again about everything.” You hoped that he understood the truth behind your words as you stared into his glowing green orbs, though you knew you would never truly understand what he was thinking in that moment.

“Please do not worry yourself, my dear,” he said, tone light, though the playfulness from earlier had dissipated. He reached over to the desk, passing you Adler’s boring book and your waterbottle that definitely was not filled with water that you had overlooked while grabbing your items, “Please send me a text once you are sure everything is okay. I will remain here to watch over the cameras until the next guard arrives.” You couldn’t help but smile at the thoughtful gesture, pressing another quick kiss to his cheek, lips lingering slightly before you forced yourself to move away

“Thank you,” you smiled, before your mouth slipped into a sly smirk, “I won’t forget this the next time we are together… I’ll have to repay you for everything, hm?” you turned to leave then, letting the robot ponder the true meaning of your words as you strutted away.

~~~

You could hear the new arrival before you could speak to him.

Aeons, his voice was so grating on the ears, his tone refined and moderately deep, but insanely unpleasant as he yelled obscenities through the communication port connecting the office in Supply Zone to any ships preparing to dock at that station. Even from the ever white and shiny metal hallways of the Space Station, you could hear his annoying voice echoing off the walls, doing nothing to help your annoyed attitude. You took a swig from your water bottle, allowing yourself a modest sip of the alcohol inside. You had to get through this interaction somehow, right?

“... and I must say! The gall of the renowned Herta’s Space Station to treat potential guests as akin to petty criminals is preposterous! For an institution dedicated to knowledge, I would expect the grace and intelligence of the security team to be able to determine friend from foe, and to allow those with the best intentions inside. To treat a guest like this! An IPC Representative! The service here is admismal!” Leonard shot you a panicked look as you walked into the security room, the voice of your oh-so-kind visitor somehow even more grating from inside the confined space. You flashed him what you hoped was a reassuring and confident smirk, striding towards the communication system as if you were born to do so.

“I must ask you, Mr. Ratio, to avoid insulting our staff. I would expect a smart man like yourself would know how to manage his words,” you spoke cooley into the microphone serving as the communication device, which was placed in front of a few monitors in the smaller security room overlooking the docking station, “My name is Y/N, I am a leading supervisor in the security department.”

“Did I ask?” was his deadpan response from the other end, “I simply want entry into the Space Station, miss Y/N, but you’re incompetent and completely unprepared coworkers have no idea how to check the identity of guests that checked in prior for visitation rights!” Clearly he wasn’t going to let up easily, a thought of which made you sigh. You cracked your knuckles in anticipation.

“Ah yes, the check in email,” you replied drily, scrolling through your phone, “An email which was sent to Ms. Asta a mere two hours ago. I assume, given your work experience Mr. Ratio, that you understand the concept of a 9 to 5 and working hours, no?” you kept your tone neutral as you spoke, though your words themselves carried enough attitude themselves.

“You-” the man on the other end seemed flustered for a moment, his end of the line going dead for a few seconds, “I am well aware of the concept of working hours! And yet, clearly given that you are hear gracing me with this oh so pleasant conversation, working hours vary. I would expect that people with your experience, Miss, would have the foresight to check an email inbox, especially concerning the arrival of potential guests.”

“You’re right, that would be expected,” you conceded, your tone still even, though the amused smirk grew on your face, “Which is exactly why all inquiries pertaining to visits and arrival times should be sent to the alternate security email address when Miss Asta is not in working hours, a fact you would have known if you had bothered to read past the first line of the automated response you must have received when you emailed Miss Asta earlier this evening.” The eyes of the security department members, or at least the few who had had been unlucky enough to have to work in the Supply Zone tonight, were glued to you as you spoke, just as you hoped Mr. Ratio was glued to his seat as he attempted to reply to your quips.

“Again, as I am sure you are aware, the use of technology in space can be fickle when travelling, especially when older vessels are not in the proximity of an electric source,” the scholar’s voice rung though as annoying as ever, though the loss of extreme exclamations in his tone was glaringly obvious, “I therefore did not receive this automated message you speak of until I arrive here and connected to your ships internal power supply.”

“Ah, so you did receive the message?” you quipped, dropping the respectfulness in your tone with this opening the scholar oh so graciously dropped at your feet, “And yet instead of sending another email to correct your mistake, you decide to harass my colleague? For a genius, your logic seems to be lacking.” You couldn’t hide the excited bite in your tone now, or the giddeness you were experiencing due to this conversation.

You hated to admit it…

This was… kinda fun. Definitely not on the level of rizzing up a robot like you had been earlier, but this conversation was clearly entertaining. What more could a woman ask for than sassing a renowned genius to release sexual tension that had built up earlier that night?

“You- you are clearly trying to-”

You didn’t let him speak, “Lucky for you, as a senior member of the security department, I have access to Lady Asta’s emails, and was able to check them after Leonard told me about the situation. Loe and behold, there I found your little check in email. I was able to confirm your identity and status after talking to a collegue, and after running a voice analysis on this call…” you paused as your fingers quickly moved over the keyboard in front of you, “I can can officially welcome you to Herta’s Space Station, Mr. Ratio. I am disabling the external security systems now… and I’ll see you on the dock shortly.” With that, you pressed a button on the keyboard, hanging up the call before leaning back into the office chair with a small sigh.

“Miss Y/N, that was awesome!” Leonard was at your side immediately, patting you on the back as a look of relief passed over his features. He watched your fingers and you quickly disabled and re-enabled the external security system to the station, allowing the passage of the ship through, “What’s that guys deal anyway? He’s such an ass!” Leonard allowed himself to collapse in the desk chair after you stood, grabbing your book and your water bottle, which you allowed yourself a triumphant sip from.

“We should know better than anyone, Leonard,” you commented, quickly moving to the door of the security room so you could rush to the docking platform, “Geniuses are fucking weird.” With that, you walked out of the room the same way you walked into it, confidently as if this was your Space Station, leaving Leonard and the researchers to gossip over the juicy call they had just listened to alone.

You’re sure Arlan would hear about this in the morning… a fact that he wouldn’t find quite as amusing as Leonard and the others. Oh well, future problems, you supposed.

The walk from the security room to the docking platform was short, a mere 50 feet or so down a ramp and across a small black platform. As you walked, steps quick but not overly rushed, you could see the ship docking in the platform, a small ramp extending from the door to allow for easy passage to the walkway below. The man inside clearly was in no rush, and was remarkably more quiet compared to your first impression of him, with no noises traveling towards you as you approached.

You didn’t exactly know what to expect as you stood at the bottom of the ramp. Considering the vast number of people hosted on the ship, each different from the last, there could be pretty much anything inside that space ship. Your only had one experience with the IPC was with that one debt collector, Topaz, who stopped by once in a while to collect loans taken out by Herta to support the massive money sink which was the Space Station. If he was anything like Topaz, you were expecting a scantally dressed man with a nice figure and a cute trotter to accompany him.

Well you weren’t too far off with two of your guesses as you watched the man of the hour finally make his appearance. The man front of you was definitely well built, your eyes scanning over his muscular arms and broad shoulders as he descended the ramp. He also was fairly scantally dressed, his Greek-esque outfit barring cut outs on the sides, showing off his toned stomach, along with his aforementioned muscular arms, one of which was completely visible.

Unfortunately, the man was not accompanied by a trotter. Instead, he wore a alabaster head over his own, blocking his face from your view.

“Well Miss Y/N, I would say it was a pleasure to meet you, but I always tell my students that one shouldn’t lie in a professional setting,” he stood in front of your now, having finished descending the ramp. He was a head taller than you, and his close proximity meant you were basically face to face with his stupid broad shoulders and toned chest. Maybe if you were less pissed off and the it wasn’t past midnight at this point, you would find the nerve to exchange pleasantries. However, with the alcohol loosening your inhbitions and lips, you let you true thoughts ring out.

“Can you even see through that thing?”

The lack of direct response to his taunts and the sudden change of subject were clearly not expected by the scholar, who clutched the codex he carried to his toned chest, almost as if he was recoiling from your words.

“I beg your pardon?” He spoke a moment later, as if finally snapping back to reality, he tucked the codex under one arm, allowing him to awkwardly cross his arms across his chest in a show of… defiance? Toughness? You weren’t exactly certain.

“The alabaster head, can you see through it?” you tapped on the nose of the head, as if testing the material, “seems pretty thick to me, how do you even walk around in that thing?”

He now physically recoiled from your touch, quickly yanking the alabaster head off his own and allowing it to vanish, a technique of some weapon bearers that you didn’t quite understand yourself. You concealed your surprise at the man underneath. His shoulder-length blue-purple hair framed his face almost perfectly, and the golden leaf pin adorning the top of his head brought out the gold and amber red in his eyes; the very eyes that were now narrowed and glaring at you as he too looked over your appearance, “Enough! I forbid you from touching this head, do you understand the time that went into crafting this? Or does an imbecile like you not understand the concept of art and the beauty of sculpting?”

“Given the way you’re looking at me now, I’d guess the answer to my previous question was no,” you retorted with a smirk, before sticking out a hand in greeting, “Welcome to the Space Station, Mr. Ratio.” He stared at your hand, not moving to stick out his own.

“That is Dr. Ratio to you,” he snapped, “I expect someone of your standing would understand the importance of a proper label and greeting, or do you need me to read you a list of my credentials so you can truly understand the importance?”

“Considering were already stuck together, I would hope you would refrain from making both of our evenings more unbearable,” you commented, unable to resist the urge to roll your eyes, “I would expect someone of your status to shake my hand so we can end these non-existent fake pleasantries so I can escort you to your quarters so we will both be oh so happier.”

The Doctor let out a sound the mix of a scoff and a groan, reluctantly reaching a hand out to shake yours. His grip was strong, as expected based on his figure, you supposed, as he shook your hand with all the enthusiasm he could muster, “Thank you for the oh so kind welcome.”

“Great, you’re sounding more like an IPC delegate already!” you cheered in fake enthusiasm as he released your hand, “Let’s get going then, so both of us can rest easier.” You gestured for him to follow you down the platform, turning your head and not glancing back as you did so. You were reassured he was following you based on the sound fo his footsteps, evident by the quiet supply zone given the late hour.

“I must say, when that Leonard fellow said he was contacting his supervisor, I did not expect someone like you to show up,” he commented as he followed you, his tone of voice as arrogant as ever.

“Meaning?” you rebutted, not willing to show your hand and work up a retort until you truly understood what he was getting at. You glanced over your shoulder to meet his gaze briefly, his golden eyes fixed on you.

“Most higher ups in security departments are stern and unforgiving men, not some over confident zealous girl,” he expanded, spitting out the word girl as if it was some sort of insult. You didn’t bother with a reaction, somewhat used to comments of such a sort.

“Our boss, Arlan is the stern one, though he’s definitely pretty forgiving,” you shrugged, leading the man inside the security room, smirking when you caught him with a slightly frustrated expression when you look over your shoulder, “My job is to be the witty moodmaker, isn’t that right Leonard?” You let your eyes move from the scholae to Leonard, who looked up from the security cameras he was monitoring.

“Y-Yes Miss Y/N!” he stammared, flushing slightly as you smirked at him. He was quick to change his focus to the doctor beside you, “It is our pleasure to have you on the Space Station, Doctor Ratio.” The Doctor didn’t spare him a nod, only quickly glancing in his direction. Leonard’s face dropped at the lack of response, a change which angered you.

“I’m sure Mr. Ratio is thankful for the welcome,” you replied despite the indifference seen on the man beside you, “I’m sure he’s just too busy thinking of how he’s going to apologize to you, right Mr. Ratio?” you turn completely now to look the purple-haired man in the eye, tilting your head to the side innocently.

“Excuse me?” he glared at you, again crossing his arms, almost as if he was dealing with an unruly student rather than security personal on one of the most renowned Space Stations in the world.

“Oh, was that not on your mind?” you feigned ignorance, shifting your book under one arm and placing an exaggerated hand over your mouth, “my apologies, I guess I just expected for a intelligentsia guild member and delegate such as yourself to maintain pleasant relations with the station, and to apologize to those you wronged.” You let out an exaggerated sigh, looking at the other security members in the room, “I guess with the small crowd tonight, your reputation wasn’t exactly on your mind?”

He was fuming now, fists clenched at his side as he glared daggers at you. He fists remained there as he let his gaze wander from Leonard to the other security members, “I… apologize Leonard, and all of you, for letting my temper get the best of me. I suppose I am tired after my long day of travel… please forgive me.” His fists were practically shaking now, his barely-controlled anger begging to be released.

“Ah, look at that!” you exclaimed, shifting your book under your shoulder so you could place a mocking hand over your heart, “I can almost see the diplomatic relations between the IPC and the Space Station improving as we speak! Amazing! Let’s get going then, shall we?”

Leonard and the other securiy members stare at the both of you as you leave, mouths slightly agape as they watch the angry proud scholar trail after you, fists still clenched and face now red in a mix of embarrassment and anger, though he was forcing himself to take deep breaths as he went to calm his own temperament.

Arlan would definitely hear about this now…

You allowed yourself another long swig from your water bottle as you made your way through the winding silver hallways of the space station, the doctor on your heals.

“You’re breath smells like alcohol,” he stated simply, taking a few large steps so he was walking beside you, “I’ll let you know that that is the only reason I allowed you to treat me like some fool show for your co-workers. What would that Arlan fellow say if he learned you were drinking on the job?” his gaze flickered from your mouth to your water bottle, mouth crinkling in disgust.

“I was technically off work…” you glanced at your watch, “almost an hour ago at this point. Guess I’m not truly drinking on the job, hmm?” you spared a glance at the doctor, his face much less red, but his eyes angry still. You really had poked the wasps nest, huh?

“I am no fool, Miss Y/N,” he rolled his eyes, sighing in disappointment, “Based on how you are carrying your bottle, it is almost empty,” he eyed your hand, the only thing holding up the bottle being a few of your fingers clutched around the hand hold on the lid, “and based on your delayed reactions and unexplained confidence, it is clear you have been indulging in alcohol throughout the day.”

“Wow Doctor, I’m impressed,” you replied with a smirk, “I guess all the supposed titles you have aren’t only for show.” You both paused in front of the elevator, doing the best to ignore the growing tension between you to. You liked tension though, and this interaction was filling you with as much heat and excitement as your previous more steamy encounter with your robot companion earlier that evening, albeit much less pleasurable physically, the desire you had felt long ago fading away to a dull ache you would have to deal with yourself later.

“You are insufferable,” he replied, pushing in front of you to step into the elevator before you could. You rolled your eyes at that, quickly following in afterwards. You easily press the button to the floor containing the living quarters and guest rooms, cursing whoever designed the space ship for making the travel distance to them so unbearably far from your current location, “Though I must say, I am surprised a person of your intellect level is aware of Adler’s System of Ecological Classification.” Both you and the scholar’s eyes trail down to the book in your hands, a bookmark placed very close to the front cover.

“I’m not,” you said plainly, drumming your fingers against the hard cover, “I honestly don’t understand it at all. I told Adler I would try to read it so he would have someone to rant to about it.” You shrugged, looking from the book to the Doctor’s face.

“Ah, as expected, you truly are an idiot, just simply following the crowds and what people tell you to do instead of using your brain to come to your own decisions and calculations,” he sighed, as if disappointed in the outcome, “Though I don’t know what I expected from a security girl exactly. I should not have gotten my hopes up, I suppose.”

“You seem awfully sure of your abilities,” you commented offhandedly as the elevator finally reached the right floor, metal doors opening, and you and the doctor stepping out, “Interesting how this ‘security girl’ has managed to best you twice in one night. I suppose even the smartest people can be bested.”

Alone on this secluded floor, you could feel the tension building behind you, a glance in the reflection of your water bottle once again showing the Doctor clenching his fists in anger. It was kind of funny, you pondered, how someone such as him had no outlet for his emotions. Yet, the anger now was different, as if his body was a volcano on the brink of expkosion.

You heard his arm move before you saw anything.

In an instant, you let Adler’s book, the bookmark falling out of the marked pages, and your water bottle fall to floor, arm moving upwards towards your head to block the force of his codex from hitting you. Clearly surprised, the Doctor had no time to react when you turned on your heal, grabbing his wrists and slamming him into the wall beside the elevator, his muscular arms firmly held in his grasp. He attempted to wiggle free, his muscles clenching against your arms, but your grip remained solid, holding him there despite the height and size difference between your bodies.

He stared at you in shock, those golden eyes that he just loved to glare at you now wide an innocent like a childs, his lips parted slightly in shock as he blinked cluelessly at you. He almost looked beautiful then, your mind conceded, someone as stubborn as him put into his place by a woman half his size. The heat between you two was obvious, growing by the second as you held him there, staring into those pretty eyes just liked you owned them.

You had expected you would be pinning some man against the wall tonight. Though your predictions were not as exact as expected, and least the core of the guess had come true.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” your voice came out as a whisper as you held his wrists against the wall, speaking into his ear, “See, Mr. Ratio, though you may be some stupid academic genius with outstanding credentials and a stellar reputation, you clearly lack any common decency and respect.” Your breath fanned his face as you talked, “Calling me a girl, insulting the security team. You’re someone who doesn’t know their place here, so let me make that clear to you.”

You released one of his pinned arms, though his body seemed to shock to move away. You let your hand trail down his defined jaw, tilting his head downwards so he has no way to look away from your gaze. Your body felt sweaty again, hair sticking to your forehead much like it had earlier. Your love for tension, your craving for control, they were all shining through right now as you practically degraded the man in front of you.

“You have the book smarts. I have the street smarts… so next time you think about swinging that codex at me, know your place. I won’t be so merciful next time.” You let the one hand holding his wrist dig into his flesh slightly, twisting and flinching it until the Doctor winced, involuntarily letting out a noise somewhere between a moan and a whimper.

You released his other wrist then, satisfied with your work, but he remained against the wall for a second, as if too shocked to move. You were quick to turn around, grabbing your items from the floor, before strutting away, “Come on, Mr. Ratio… Your room is this way.”

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai starrail #honkai starrail x reader #hsr x reader #dr ratio #dr ratio x reader #doctor ratio #doctor ratio x reader #screwllum #screwllum x reader

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skynapple · 2 months

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What if MC looked different from her past lives, will he connect the dots?

Xavier x MC [A03 link]

Prompt from @nobodys-saviour: "If MC didnt look the same as her other lives do you think they’d still recognise her. [Would] Xavier?" [x].

----

Xavier did not make a habit of making strong connections in his various "lives" he'd lived on Earth. The less he knew about mild acquaintances, the less there was to remember, making it easier to focus on more important things and details. Thus, his opinion of his new colleague was varied at best.

On some days, she surprised him with strength and fervor. On other days, her youthfulness presented itself, especially when chatting and gossiping with her work friends. Finding out they were neighbors was more of an irritation to him, since it presented the danger of her attempting to get to know him. He had half a mind to move when he realized she was persistent in attempting to get to know him, despite his frequent attempts to ignore her. There were times she tried to leave nice, neighborly things at his doorstep. He rarely, if ever, answered, and kept conversation polite but brief. It was merely the way he protected his many identities over time. If he had to sum it up, he thought she was nice, but a little meddlesome.

One day she came over feigning illness for some kind of game with her colleagues. Truth or dare? How childish. Xavier didn't have time for such trivial things. He let her leave with a small token of his, and sent her on her way.

He didn't understand her obsession with getting to know him. He could feel her eyes on her when he was in the office, and hear her asking questions about him. Occasionally she'd be texting him random articles when he still had no idea how she got his number. He passed her once while she was on another job while he was on his day off. Only out of the corner of his eye did he notice she was handing their coworker Tara a keychain. He had no idea how she noticed him quite literally all the way across the street with his hoodie over his head.

"Xavier!" She called out to him.

He almost wanted to pretend not to hear it.

"What is it?" He asked flatly.

"I made these for a few people at the office. Do you want one?" She was asking.

Tara nearly cut her off with excitement, holding hers up to show him.

"Look at it! It's so cute!! She's so talented. I had no idea she could make stuff like this!!"

He blinked at it - a little teddy bear keychain.

"No thanks." He noticed her disappointment and quickly tried to add, "Not really... my thing."

"Oh! Totally. But I can make other stuff!"

"I'm good." He replied quickly. "...Sorry."

And that was that.

Other than those brief instances, she never crossed his mind. His mind was occupied with his missions, with his goals, with her, the one from so long ago he was always thinking about. It was heart-wrenching thing realizing that he was beginning to forget her appearance, the scent of her hair, the rhythm of her laugh. The last time he'd seen her was centuries ago now. Late at night before sleep would befall him, he would see a flash of her in his mind, but it was never clearly visible. It terrified him. He wished he could draw so he could save some semblance of her appearance. Yet, all he had left of her was her lightseeker badge, and a little star.

After pulling an all-nighter in the no-hunt zone, the moment he began to turn back, another Wanderer attack came. His senses sharpened only briefly, launching himself skillfully at its weakest points, light evol creating a shower of light in his stead. Despite his skill, his body was not as responsive as he would hoped. The Wanderer swung large and struck his abdomen squarely and launching him several meters down. He gritted his teeth as his back connecting to the forest floor below them, wincing sharply at the pain and the wind being knocked out of him. In his moment of weakness, his lightsword had flung from his hand and landed a ways from him.

Before he could recover, the Wanderer launched back up, growling at him almost as if to sneer at Xavier's vulnerability. He began to brace himself for the effort of teleporting himself to his lightsword, which was normally a simple enough thing but now would require more excruciating effort through his brain fog and injury. Just when he was about to do so, a voice rang out through the night sky.

"Hey, ugly!"

A glint caught his –and the Wanderer's– attention as a woman stood off to the side.

Oh.. no. He thought, grimacing at the thought of anyone else not only holding his lightsword. The fact, too, that it was this specific colleague and caused a feeling of cold dread and irritation to course through him. There was no way this would end particularly well.

Then time froze.

She was swinging the lightsword up to the sky, resonating with it in a way that normally only he could as its rightful owner. Had she always had a resonate evol? He hadn't remembered if he paid attention to that when Jenna briefed him.

Maybe he was just tired. Maybe it was the moonlight and the setting in the forest that felt so starkly familiar. Maybe he had been yearning too long. In that moment, he thought he saw her.

She swung his sword like it was her own, with skill that had certainly taken him hundreds of years to master. Fearlessness and ferocity in her eyes that he hadn't seen in anyone else. She had a quality of dash.

He came to and stood, knowing there was no way she would defeat the large Wanderer on her own, but with her providing enough distraction, he could deal a final blow.

"Hand me my sword!" He called out to her.

"Here you go!" She lept over to him and handed it over, drawing her twin pistols afterwards.

For a split moment, the Wanderer examined them, he knew it was gearing up for a strike.

He looked at the sword in his hand and then to her, tired eyes giving way to clarity. One last push.

"Swords of the stars." He said quietly, almost a weakened whisper to himself as he rose it to strike a final blow, as if crying out to her to give him a bought of strength.

"We must always point in the same direction." She whispered back, replying in a literal sense as she pointed her guns at the Wanderer. The shock nearly stalled him but he was too focused on the task at hand.

Together the Wanderer came down in a flash of light.

As he reached out to collect the protocore, he examined it only a moment before turning back to her in disbelief.

"It's you."

She looked at him quizzically. "Duh, it's me. Xavier, I don't understand why you keep leaving me behind. We're partners! Maybe don't head into the no-hunt zone by yourse- Xavier!!"

The man was collapsing, finally giving way to the stress, shock, injury, and sleepless state his body had been in.

When he closed his eyes he could hear her voice, feel her arms around him and she dragged him to her hunter bike. The pieces of her personality and mannerisms began to come together.

When he awoke in a hospital bed, he at first panicked, having specifically avoided hospitals for particular reasons. Jeremiah would have his work cut out for him later. His next thought was,

She's...here?

There she was, staring out the window in the hospital chair beside him.

"Oh!" She exclaimed, noticing him staring. "You're awake. Good! I brought you some fruit. And this!"

She tossed him a small object and he caught it, a number of emotions coursing through him as he examined it.

"What's this?"

"I know you said you didn't want one, but I made one for literally everyone, even Jenna, so it felt kinda weird. I know you said bears weren't your thing, so I guess I tried to think about your light evol? A star's pretty close, right?"

He couldn't help but smile. "It's close... I guess."

She laughed, and it was the first time he paid attention to the rhythm.

She's here. She's right here.

#the lnds brainrot is real #madi writes #lnds xavier #lnds #l&ds #l&ds xavier #lnds prompt #love and deepspace #love and deepspace xavier #xavier x mc #what if #madi plays lnds

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