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luciddownloading · 5 months

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Planets in the 12th House 🧿

SUN IN THE 12TH HOUSE: Multiple personalities and they're all confusing. Either seems like a narcissist or a wallflower but they're really not. Most of them are massive insomniacs but also can freakishly thrive on very little sleep. MUST work on their solar plexus chakra (may either be blocked or overactive). A lot of them strongly believe in past lives/reincarnation and could be very naturally tapped into their Akashic Records. Deja Vu 24/7. In the arts, they are absolute icons and trendsetters. Could be more of a leader in their creative field but passive otherwise. If their father is in their life, no one drives them crazier but there is no one they admire and respect more. If not, they feel better off without a father and don't see it as a void in their life.

MOON IN THE 12TH HOUSE: The "child whisperer"; babies and kids instantly feel safe and soothed and understood around them. Capable of 100 different moods in the span of a day. Yet will insist they're "fine" when you ask. Uncannily capable of telling when others are not as happy as they appear. CLAIRSENTIENCE. An empath who needs to protect their energy for the sake of their sanity. Must express their emotions maturely or else they get very self-destructive. Deep, deep love of movies or music that may just be a hobby. Most feel incredibly indebted to their mothers or can have a very codependent motherly bond. Messy as hell sleeping schedule: staying up late, sleeping in late, insomnia, sleeping 10 hours, etc.

MERCURY IN THE 12TH HOUSE: Throat chakra probably needs a lot of healing. Could have a speech impediment early in life or be neurodivergent. They could also be judged very harshly (and unfairly) for their accent. Knows what people are thinking somehow and it freaks them out. Clairaudient abilities. Secretly very shrewd and cunning. Learned how to "play dumb" or "say less" early in life so people can't predict their next move. They have highly communicative Spirit Guides and they're always interacting with them but they may not be consciously aware of it. Natural channelers or mediums. NOTHING is a coincidence to them. They see signs in everything because they're always in dialogue with the Universe.

VENUS IN THE 12TH HOUSE: The biggest sweethearts but may hide that by acting kind of "mean". The best connections for them are the ones who see the big softie under the tough exterior. A lot of powerful feminine Spirit Guides around them. May also be very connected to love/beauty goddesses like Aphrodite or Freya. Is either seen as a goddess type or has a strong romantic relationship with a partner with big goddess energy (regardless of gender). Major Twin Flame vibes. Major soulmate connections. A divine counterpart could spiritually awaken them or even act as a guide (in human form or in the Spirit Realm). Art = healing. Could make their best art about the one they love or in collaboration with them. Heart chakra blockages that must be addressed.

MARS IN THE 12TH HOUSE: A dormant volcano that rarely explodes but causes total devastation when it does. Recurring nightmares that may haunt them through adulthood. Might be incredibly drawn to "scary" art: horror movies, heavy metal, grotesque visual art, etc. Would SERIOUSLY benefit from taking up boxing, self-defense or any kind of martial arts. As a teenager, they probably convinced adults they were perfectly well-behaved all while secretly drinking, having sex or smoking a lot. Becomes more open about their "bad behavior" with age. If they don't let themselves rebel, they'll implode/break down/become very destructive. Probably needs to heal their sacral chakra. Knows how to fulfill all their partner's sexual fantasies/desires but needs to express theirs.

JUPITER IN THE 12TH HOUSE: Knowing that abundance is not just about money. They have an abundance of many spiritual/emotional/creative blessings (love, inner peace, talent, psychic abilities) and financial abundance follows. People constantly being jealous of them and they're just like, "Jealous of what?" Their humility and belief that everyone can win brings them more blessings. Incredibly inspirational. They make people want to be better versions of themselves. DREAMERS. Figuratively and literally; their actual dreams are like nightly movies. Constantly rescued or kept out of trouble by their Guides. Very active spiritual life. May start life very religious but benefits from exploring lots of spiritual paths.

SATURN IN THE 12TH HOUSE: Somehow super-grounded and very otherworldly, at the same time. Most likely to make skeptics see the truth or value in spirituality or psychic phenomena. Some may claim to be skeptics themselves but that's either just a phase or what they tell themselves to cope with this reality. Very powerful and natural psychic gifts that they may resist, dismiss or fear until they're called to embrace them. Although they see themselves as a hot mess, a LOT of people look up to and admire them. Major "older sibling" energy (regardless of if they actually are a big brother/sister or not). Also, "wise mentor" energy. VERY divinely protected. They have a lot of masculine, formidable Spirit Guides who do not mess around when it comes to them. One or two of their Guides or just a compassionate mentor may play a fatherly role in place of their father figure in this life, who could be absent, passed on or emotionally checked out.

URANUS IN THE 12TH HOUSE: Highly clairvoyant. As artists, this makes them ahead of the current trends and very cutting-edge. They could also have predictive dreams and visions. Raven Baxter vibes (including the chaos and calamities). Very good at convincing others that they are straight-laced or "normal" but the weirdness eventually slips through. Might be a model child and save all their rebelliousness for adulthood. Or they could be a model citizen but totally wild behind closed doors. They stand out through either controversial artistic statements or a very unique fashion sense. Really sensitive to mental health issues. Kind of like medication in human form; can help stabilize people's instabilities.

NEPTUNE IN THE 12TH HOUSE: Virtually hypnotizes people, without even trying. They have a striking beauty that is more about their aura/energy than looks (even though they may be gorgeous). Magical, mystical beings. A fairy, elf, mermaid, etc in human form. Often feels burdened/cursed by the pedestal others put them on. Humbly owns their flaws/faults while others are like, "Nah, you're kind of perfect actually". Seen as an angelic presence or guiding light to those they influence. Can go to some DARK inner places but can also heal/redeem themselves. Extremely psychic and trusts their intuition. Third eye and crown chakra are wide-open. Spirituality is the air they breathe. Highly connected to their past lives and were most likely artists or spiritual teachers in previous lifetimes, repeating those skills in this one.

PLUTO IN THE 12TH HOUSE: Often has to play the villain before they can become the hero. Get accused of absolutely untrue or unfounded things by people who are threatened by them. Can develop a very "bad reputation" that hides the fact that they're actually really nice or level-headed. However, they secretly enjoy being feared so they may encourage that illusion around them. Many of them have natural, powerful witchcraft abilities, due to a past life or more as a witch. As a result, they may be incredibly drawn to the occult/paganism or be one of those intense "that stuff is evil and demonic!!!" types. Their Spirit Guides are forces to be reckoned with, delivering retribution to their enemies yet also giving these people "cruel to be kind" lessons that change their lives. Walking bullshit detectors. Forces people to deal with their hidden truth but become more subtle and graceful about it with age.

#astrology #12th house #12th house planets #12th house placements #12th house stellium #sun in the 12th house #moon in the 12th house #mercury in the 12th house #venus in the 12th house #mars in the 12th house #jupiter in the 12th house #saturn in the 12th house #uranus in the 12th house #neptune in the 12th house #pluto in the 12th house

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bangtanflirt · 6 months

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(Un)natural Instincts (Part 11)

*Series taglist is closed.

angst, fluff, smut

Pairings: OT7 x Fem Reader, Human CEO Reader, Human Assistant Yoongi, Wolf Hybrids Joon, Jin, Hobi, Jimin, Tae, and Kook.

Basic premise: You and your assistant end up rescuing six wolf hybrids. No part of the process is easy.

Part 1 > Part 2 > Part 3 > Part 4 > Part 5 > Part 6 > Part 7 > Part 8 > Part 9 > Part 10 > Part 11 > Part 12

General Warnings: Hybrid abuse and lab experimentation, hybrids as second-class citizens/owned property (Minors DNI, 18+ content)

Specific Warnings: trauma from past SA (vaguely hinted at this time, not explicit), jealousy, ambiguity around fidelity in hybrid pack dynamics, internalized prejudice (against wolf hybrids), mentions of drugs

____

Namjoon stills, his breath caught in his throat at the sight of Yoongi’s lips on yours. Discomfort has him wriggling in his skin, but he battles the feeling long enough to discreetly retreat—finding the nearest guest room before the two of you can pick up on his presence. The wolf shuts his eyes, trying to gather his thoughts.

This is ridiculous. I shouldn’t be jealous. She doesn’t owe me anything.

But all the rationale in the world can’t shake off the of jealousy. It’s not a strong, world-shattering type of feeling—but it’s there and it irks him nonetheless. He can’t help but feel like an absolute idiot for mistaking your offering of friendship as anything more. Was he the only one feeling a pull?

Of course she doesn’t feel anything for me. She wouldn’t think of a hybrid in that way.

As much as you talk of equality, Namjoon isn’t dumb. It’s one thing to support hybrid equality, but it’s an entirely different matter to see him equal enough to be a romantic option.

How could she ever think that way about someone she has to put a fucking leash on to be seen outside with? It’s impossible.

He doesn’t know why he let himself feel this way in the first place. He’s only known you for a couple of days—not to mention he already has a loving pack. Guilt stiffens his features, not wanting to think of what his pack would say at his pathetic little crush. Would they feel betrayed?

Relationships aren’t exactly as black-and-white as “open” or “closed” in hybrid packs. On one hand, a pack is always “open” to accept new packmates to form strong bonds with; however, their pack hasn’t had a new member in years…so were they “closed” now?

He doesn’t know why he’s thinking so deeply about it—you’re not even a hybrid. There’s no wolf in you for them to form a pack-bond with.

You should be with a human, someone who can actually build a future with you. Someone like Yoongi.

You should be happy with a human like Yoongi, and he should be happy with his amazing pack. It should be this simple. So why isn’t it?

___

“Yoongi…”

His heart beats hard against his ribcage, drumming loud in his ears. He waits patiently as you gather your thoughts, but every millisecond feels like a year. Some part of him hopes you’ll pull him back in for a second kiss, but it’s clear that’s not where your head is. He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until you start talking again.

“Was that…was that because I was teasing you?” Your voice is soft, almost a whisper, but the closeness between your bodies guarantees he hears every word.

Shaking his head, his mouth answers before his mind has any time to think.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

He doesn’t realize what he’s done until the words spill out.

There’s no going back now.

There’s a moment of regret. You literally gave him an out on a silver platter—just brushing the whole thing off as an answer to your teasing, fueled by wine. But he doesn’t think his response through, and now the entire friendship he’s built with you could easily go down the drain. His heart—which he’s kept guarded for so long—is fully on his sleeve, vulnerable to whatever you decide to do to it.

The confession lingers heavy in the air, sobering any slight buzz out of both of you.

“I’ve liked you for a while. I don’t know when it started…maybe a few months after I was hired? I don’t remember. I just—I like you. A lot. And I know it might be really stupid to say this and ruin what we have,” his voice barely holds it together to get the rest of the sentence out, “but if you tell me you don’t have any feelings for me then I’ll never act on it again, I promise. That’s all I need to know.”

The strain in his voice prompts you to find your own quickly.

“I…I have feelings for you too.”

Yoongi’s shoulders finally fall down, a mix of relief and elation washing over the second your words soak in.

“Thank fucking God” is all he can manage to get out before pulling you into a tight, cathartic hug.

___

Bacon sizzles on the stovetop, edges turning crisp as Jimin watches over. The fresh aroma of Yoongi’s favorite dark roast fills the kitchen, luring the man in as he’s getting ready to go to work. Jimin signals for him to sit, singing an unfamiliar song as he’s plating the bacon next to a stack of pancakes. The surprise on Yoongi’s face is evident, as Jimin hasn’t cooked him breakfast since the morning of the incident. He'll never say it out loud, but the site does endear him.

“You look happier than usual.” The wolf remarks, noticing the smile Yoongi can’t seem to suppress. It’s hard not to smile when all that’s going through his head are your words from yesterday.

“So do you.”

Jimin puffs out his chest in pride, “Because I just finished baking these” he gestures proudly to a tray of freshly baked muffins. They look mouthwatering, and Yoongi’s hand is reaching out before he even realizes it. But the wandering hand is quickly swatted away.

“Hands off. These are exclusively for Taehyung.”

“Not even one?”

Jimin almost gives in at seeing the pout creep on the man’s lips, but regardless, he stays firm, “Nope. This is step one in fixing our relationship. I need every muffin here if I’m going to make it up to him.”

Curiosity takes over Yoongi’s features, wondering what exactly a guy as sweet as Jimin could do to land himself in such hot water.

“You must’ve messed up really bad.”

Jimin shakes his head, sliding over a fixed plate and coffee. “Funnily enough, I still don’t think I did. It’s the drugs that messed up both of our minds.”

“Why are you making it up to him if you don’t think it was your fault?”

“Because love isn’t always about who’s right and who’s wrong. Sometimes you just have to do what you can to make things work.”

The man raises a brow, taken aback at the wise words coming from such a naïve face, which Jimin notices and starts laughing at immediately.

“I sounded so smart, didn’t I?” His eyes shut into happy crescents, “Namjoon hyung says that to us a lot. It sounds a lot cooler coming from him.”

Yoongi shakes his head in amusement, small chuckle leaving from his lips as he digs into the neatly decorated plate in front of him. Not even the mention of Namjoon could throw off his good mood this morning.

___

As much as you want to celebrate your recent developments with Yoongi, the current mood in the car has you (and everyone else) stiff with unease. The cause of said unease is looking out the window, paying no mind as he stares blankly at all the cars passing. It’s not lost on anyone how distant Jungkook is becoming towards you, refusing to acknowledge any of your attempts at conversation.

That isn’t the only cold front you’re experiencing.

The wolf in your passenger seat is also visibly off. Normally, he’d be the one trying to get Jungkook to get along with you, but it’s clear that Namjoon is lost in his own world at that moment. You steal glances throughout the drive, trying to decipher his expression: it doesn’t look like he’s mad…but it also doesn’t look like he’s comfortable? His responses are short and the smile he flashes is contrived at best, but you hold off on asking him why.

Hoseok’s also lost in his own thoughts, fidgeting with the sleeve of his shirt and trying to keep the bad memories away. His anxiety’s been spiking up as the synthetic hormone levels decrease, mind now unable to create a haze to block all the bad. There are moments, like right now, when he wants to scratch off his skin until he breaks flesh—grasping for any way to reclaim his body. His claws almost peek out, tempted to follow through with his intrusive thoughts, but he’s pulled out of it when he feels Jimin’s fingers interlock with his own.

The younger one leans in, car radio loud enough to allow them their own moment, “Is it the memories?”

Hoseok nods, eyes down on the interlocking hands, trying to focus on the welcomed touch instead of thinking about all the unwelcomed ones.

“Try tuning into your hybrid hearing when it gets really bad. Maybe that can help block them.”

Hoseok’s willing to try anything at this point, so he zones out on the back of the driver’s seat and lets his ears do their thing. It’s been far too long since he’s tuned into his heightened senses, and it feels disorienting at first, as if he’s no longer in the same place as his body. But natural instincts kick in and have him adjusting quickly, letting him filter through various conversations and noises until he’s focused on one moment. It’s a child begging his mother for ice cream, a sweet exchange. He follows their journey throughout the ice cream aisle, listening in as the mother finally gives in and the two discuss what flavor. Surprisingly, Hoseok doesn’t realize arriving at the doctor’s until Jimin’s unbuckling his belt for him.

Hoseok smiles, “That actually helped.”

Jimin simply responds with a peck on the cheek.

___

Dr. Gong notices Jungkook’s changed demeanor instantly, as he’s not acknowledging her either. The youngest simply sticks behind his pack, hands holding onto the bottom of Jin’s sweatshirt. She looks back and forth between Jungkook and you, and you don’t know what else to do but sigh.

“Good to see you all again. I hope all is well.”

You bow before ushering three of the hybrids to take the empty seats while you and the others huddle around her desk.

“We’re getting there” you say, half-heartedly smiling.

She nods, “I assume you all are familiar with the process of heat shots. We’ll do the rut suppressant first. Namjoon, please follow the nurse into that room.”

The rest follow one by one, coming out with band aids on their arm. Dr. Gong pulls out a pile of lollipops onto her desk for their return, scattering various flavors on the desk. Taehyung looks at them with curiosity, eyes telling Jimin he’ll take one if he does as well. Jungkook shoves a strawberry one into his jacket, not bothering to thank the doctor the way his hyungs do.

“I was actually with the authorities yesterday, going over the hybrids’ medical results for them. They’re collecting evidence for Kang’s trial. I expect they'll call me to act as a witness soon.”

Just the mention of Kang’s name has every hybrid in the room flinch.

You nod, "I’m waiting for that call as well. Even a life sentence seems too kind for him though.”

“Plans to distribute fevocaine should land him at least thirty years. But realistically, with his status, I won't be surprised if it's fifteen max.”

A low growl comes from Jungkook, startling everyone in the room.

“All the shit he did to us and he’s only tried for the drugs? You must be fucking kidding me.” The only thing that keeps his rage from boiling over is Jin’s firm tone telling him to settle. The raise in voice has Dr. Gong pulling back, fear creeping in at seeing a fired-up wolf.

“He won’t hurt you” Jin assures, snaking a hand around the youngest’s waist to keep him still.

The doctor gives an unconvincing smile, trying to regain composure.

You give an apologetic look, bowing on his behalf. “Sorry Doc.”

“It’s understandable. I also agree with Jungkook. The laws are ridiculous. The only real good news I can give you is that the synthetic hormones seem to lose most of their effectiveness without the fevocaine. There’s no chance of the collars entering the market anytime soon—hopefully ever.”

The information, although positive, has you baffled, “I knew it was a dangerous drug, but such small amounts really made that much of a difference?”

“It’s the base needed for everything else to work. Only fevocaine can subdue a hybrid’s nervous system enough for the other hormones to instill specific behavioral changes. Simply put, without getting the hybrids in a hazy enough headspace, the rest of the hormones just don’t work.”

You suppose it makes sense, as the Kang you know wouldn’t risk involving fevocaine into his plans unless it was absolutely necessary.

“You’re all set for this month. The receptionist out front can set you up for next month’s appointment. I remember you were hesitant about continuing them on the suppressants, though.”

You nod, “We don’t need further appointments. I’m sure they’ve had enough of synthetic drugs messing up their hormones to last a lifetime. Right guys?”

Namjoon’s eyes go wide, “Are you sure? It’s not safe for you to be around us in heat. We don’t mind getting the shots.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, “I mind.” Jin’s grasp on him becomes tighter, an unspoken command to behave.

“It’s alright Joon, Yoongi said I could crash at his whenever you’re in your heats—or rut for you.”

Namjoon’s jaw ticks slightly at the mention of Yoongi, before he reminds himself that this is how things should be. Humans with humans and hybrids with hybrids. He reluctantly nods at your plan, thinking for the greater good of his pack.

“If that’s alright with you then yes, we would prefer not to be on them. Except for Hoseok.”

Your eyes go wide at the realization, of course Hoseok wouldn’t want to go through his heat. You curse under your breath for not catching that.

Hoseok, on the other hand, looks relieved that it was brought up before he had to bring it up himself. He thanks the heavens he has a good Alpha during situations like this.

___

“You’re back early” you muse, quirking an eyebrow at the figure standing at the door of your home office. Yoongi smiles, making his way to your desk before bending down to kiss your cheek.

“I told Minhyun I had to leave early for an urgent appointment.”

“So you lied to get out of work early? I could fire you for that, you know.” He tilts your head up, kissing the teasing grin off of your face.

“I didn’t lie. I had to come here and kiss you urgently.”

Another kiss.

“Well, this is a side of you I’ve never seen. Can’t say I don’t like it.”

“I have to make up for all the lost time. Besides, this is one step closer to my househusband dream, so I can’t afford to mess it up.”

You roll your eyes, “Am I just a means to an end?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

You pinch his arm and he fakes a hurt face, causing both of you to laugh.

Yoongi traps you in your chair, one hand on each arm rest as he bends to eye level, taking in every second of the moment.

“It feels surreal. Getting to kiss you like this. It’s not something I ever thought would be possible.”

You snake your hands around his neck, pulling his face even closer. “I’ve liked you for a while too. I was just scared…the idea of losing what we already have by trying to be more is terrifying,”

You’ve been scared about the same things as him. This whole time.

“but nothing’s ever felt more right than that kiss. Made me realize that high risk and high return isn’t just for the next business deal.”

“Only you can figure out a way to make this into a business analogy” he chuckles.

“Well my gut instincts have gotten me this far with investments, so no use trying to fight them for everything else in my life.” You’re the one who leans in for the kiss this time, hands cupping his face as you chase after his lips.

“This is going to be the best investment of your life.”

“Those are big claims, Assistant Min.”

“I’m very confident, Miss Shin.”

___

Namjoon’s fork hits the table, slipping out of his hand and forgotten the moment Yoongi announces your relationship at dinner.

“We want to try and see where things go” you say, bringing your free hand to rest on top of Yoongi’s for everyone to see.

“You don’t have to make a big deal out of it. We don’t care.”

“Jungkook.” Jin admonishes, but the youngest pushes back this time.

“What? It’s true. Whatever they do has nothing to do with us. Unless you want us gone so you can be all lovey dovey. I’m sure he” Jungkook glares in Yoongi’s direction, “wouldn’t want his precious girlfriend sharing a space with us. I mean, we’re wolves after all.”

Yoongi cringes at the mention of his ignorant remark.

“Once again, I’m sorry for saying that. I wish I could take it back.”

You squeeze his hand, “Yoongi’s not like that Jungkook. Nothing about this changes the fact that you all have a permanent home here.”

Yoongi nods.

“I’m happy for you guys” Jimin beams, breaking the tension and making you extremely grateful.

“Me too!” Taehyung follows.

You look over at Namjoon, who sends a tight-lipped smile, “You two look good together.”

“Thank you Joon,” his stand-offish demeanor still isn’t lost on you.

Hoseok barely reacts, only half present at the dining table. Jimin assures everyone to just let him be, explaining that turning up his hearing is helping him. He doesn’t need to elaborate, as everyone is highly aware of what goes on in Hoseok’s mind most of the time now. You’re just glad something’s helping.

It’s the sound of a record this time, playing maybe two houses down. A nice, soft melody that makes him want to hum along.

Namjoon volunteers to do the dishes this time, until Jin assigns the task to Taehyung and pulls the Alpha to the side, “What’s going on with you?”

“What?”

“You’ve been in your head all day. I could use a little help reigning Jungkook in, you know. It feels like I’ve been keeping him in check all alone since morning.”

Namjoon looks at the eldest with remorse, “I’m sorry hyung. My thoughts have just been all over the place lately. I should be paying more attention.”

“What is it that’s bothering you? Anything I can help with?”

He shakes his head, “No don’t worry about it. I have it under control.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah.”

___

The Alpha hangs by Yoongi’s door awkwardly, clearing his throat to make his presence known to both of you. You sit up from your cuddling position upon seeing him.

“Hey Joon, you need to talk to Yoongi about something?”

The wolf nods, “I can come by later if it’s not a good time.”

You shake your head and get out of the covers, much to Yoongi’s reluctance.

“I need to go look over some documents anyways. You guys talk.”

It’s when you’re right in front of him do you ask what’s on your mind, “Hey, are you okay? You don’t seem like yourself lately…unless this is another instance of the hormones wearing off?”

“No, this isn’t that. I’ve just been feeling a little under the weather today. It’s nothing serious.”

Your hand is on his forehead in an instant, “It’s not a fever, thankfully. You sure you’re good? Need any cold meds?”

“No it’s fine, really. I’ll let you know if I need anything.”

The wolf waits a second after you leave, making sure you’re far away from the door before speaking. Yoongi watches carefully, not in the mood for whatever “Alpha claim” he’s about to stake on you.

But Namjoon isn’t that kind of Alpha.

“I wanted to talk about y/n.”

“Go on.”

“Now that you two are…together” the word is bitter on his tongue, “we should get along. For her sake.”

Yoongi can’t say he’s not caught off-guard. He always thought a jealous Alpha would be one throwing temper tantrums and bearing teeth. Namjoon’s words don’t help make him any less wary, though.

“That’s hard to do when I see the way you look at her. I’ve wanted this for so long, and I’m not going to let a stranger walk into our lives and take it away.”

The word “stranger” has an unsettling feeling rise up in Namjoon’s chest, wanting to protest and that he and you are not strangers. That he understands you in ways Yoongi never will. But he stops himself. Because none of it matters if he can’t be the one thing you need: human.

That’s something Yoongi will always have over him.

“It’s just a crush, nothing serious. I’ll get over it without her ever knowing.”

“How can I believe that? How do I know this crush won’t turn into something serious in the future?”

“Because it can’t. She likes you. Not me. I’m not stupid enough to make a move and risk her kicking out the entire pack. I know you don’t trust me, but you can trust that I won’t risk the future of my pack over this.”

It’s the one statement that does placate Yoongi, because he’s right. The one thing he—and anyone who’s known Namjoon for longer than two seconds—knows is that his every decision revolves around his packmates’ wellbeing.

“Okay. I can believe that.”

____

A/N: Took a bit longer to get out this week, but I'm always grateful that you guys stick around and interact. Have a great day!

Permanent Taglist: @skyys-universee @morelovefortn @seagulljk @shadowyjellyfishfest @m4gg13-g @wittyreader

Series Taglist [CLOSED]: @welcometomyworld13 @kalala22 @fxirytaetae @btsfluffsworld @belikejk @shycreationdreamland @danielle143 @singukieee @blackrockshooter780 @g-b-artist @i-have-no-life-charlie @sopemee @no-regrets-just-confusion @acciocriativity @ldysmfrst @amara-mars @caelumwrites @estrellaburnxd @borahaetelevision @on-1ce @fuckthinking @jaiele

#bts hybrid au #hybrid bts x reader #poly bts #ot7 x reader #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #hurt/comfort

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moonhoures · 7 months

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“It Just . . . Slipped”

��️ kinktober — day 12: daddy kink 🕸️

pairing: chan (stray kids) + reader (afab/fem)

genre: non-idol!au, smut

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, explicit smut, established relationship, vaginal penetration, no mention of protection but please use it irl!!, pet names ‘princess’ & ‘baby’ for reader and ‘daddy’ for chan

word count: ~1.2k

synopsis: the title is pretty self-explanatory 😅

posted: october 12, 2023

kinktober masterist

On a random Wednesday night, Chan definitely wasn’t expecting to discover one of your kinks. Yet, there he was. The two of you had been together for about a year at this point, so you had sex countless times. If asked, he would say he was fairly confident that he knew a lot about you intimately. He knew what you liked and didn’t like. He knew what certain sounds meant. He knew what buttons to press to turn you on or make you cum. It was almost like a form of science to him. He might not be an expert, but he could teach a class, you know? Metaphorically speaking of course.

So you could imagine the surprise on his face when on this night, as he’s fucking into you tirelessly, he hears you say, “Please fuck me harder, daddy.”

He almost didn’t catch it. For a split second, he even wonders if he heard you wrong, or imagined it. Several seconds went by before his hips caught up to the speed of his brain, and his body faltered. His pelvis stuttered, coming to a halt between your thighs. Your face was already growing heated as you realized what you had said. Your hands reached up to cover your face, but the damage was done. You couldn’t hide. You couldn’t run. There was nowhere to go.

“What was that?” he asked, less with accusation and more so with a tone of playfulness. If your eyes had been open, you would see a teasing grin on his lips.

“I’m sorry!” you quickly responded, your voice coming out squeaky from the embarrassment that flooded your entire being, “It just . . . slipped.”

“It’s fine, I just . . . didn’t know you had a daddy kink,” he laughed softly on the second part, which made your heart drop into your stomach, “That’s new. Where did it come from?”

“I don’t have a daddy kink,” the defense left your lips instantly, like a reflex. But the both of you could tell you weren’t one hundred percent confident in what you said. For the most part, it was true. You didn’t have a daddy kink, that you were aware of, at least. You didn’t actively seek out any kind of erotic content with that word. And you hadn’t been immensely turned on by the term before. You didn’t have a problem with the term by any means, but never had it crossed your mind to use it in practice? Honestly, you had found it kind of cringy. But now you were rethinking everything.

“You sure? Because you definitely just called me daddy, and it sounded pretty natural,” he said, the cheeky smile still on his face, “You’ve been thinking about that for a while, haven’t you?”

“I haven’t! I swear,” your words muffled through your fingers, making him laugh again. He redistributed his weight so he could reach up and peel your palms away from your eyes. When he had your hands pinned beside your head, he interlocked his fingers with yours and enjoyed the beauty that was your face. Your wide eyes, full of nervousness and shyness. Your cheeks, full of the warmth that came from his scrutinizing gaze. Your lips that he could tell you were biting on, a nervous habit of yours. He loved all of it.

“It’s okay, _______, really. Don’t think about it too much,” he spoke softer now, leaning down slowly to press relaxing kisses against your chest. , “Sex is supposed to be natural. So just let your body do what it wants. Say what feels right, yeah?”

You nodded, still feeling the humiliation deep in your bones. But Chan always had a way of putting you at ease. He was like the human embodiment of the comforting feeling you get from a hug. Like lighting your favorite candle and relishing in the relaxing aroma after a long day.

Your boyfriend continued to kiss you wherever he could reach, returning to thrust into you. You were so immersed in the feeling of his cock moving in and out of you as well as his lips on your skin, that your nervousness began to melt away. Your lips were released from the grip of your teeth, parting as pathetic moans fell from them. Chan kept your hands on the pillows, his fingers tightening around yours as he grinded his hips a little more precisely between your own. He drew the most carnal noises out of you, much to his pleasure.

As his orgasm grew close, he noticed your tell-tale signs hadn’t happened yet. He usually preferred cumming with you, or as closely as he could get. So he reached between you two, wetting his fingertips with your own arousal before circling your clit. Soft whimpers caught in your throat, making him smirk against your neck where he was pressing kisses and making hickeys that he knew you would nag to him about later.

“Gonna cum with daddy, princess?”

“Princess” was not a new pet name for you, but it still made your chest flutter. “Daddy”, however, sent your body into a tingling fit. Maybe it was because it was him that was saying it. You really weren’t sure why it suddenly had this kind of effect on you, but Chan seemed to be eating it up, much to your chagrin. You groaned in embarrassment at his question, feeling like he was mocking you, though you knew he would never do so maliciously. He just liked making you flustered.

“Hm? Speak to me, baby. Who’s your daddy?”

Okay, now he was just having too much fun with this. For a second you wondered if you should give in and play along, or ignore him altogether. But you knew your boyfriend just as well as he did you. You knew he wouldn’t let this go, even after this was said and done. He would make you revisit this moment again and again unless you begged him to stop. And you weren’t sure if you wanted to do that just yet. Maybe you could give this a try, at least this once?

“Come on, _______, answer me,” he tried to urge a response out of you by nuzzling his nose against yours, making you giggle softly.

“You, Chan,” you finally caved, making his grin widen. His dimples showcased on his nearly flawless skin.

“I didn’t hear you, baby,” he teased you further, making you whine. Though it was mixed with a moan as he slowed his thrusts down, focusing on going deeper. He was reaching the spot that had your thighs twitching with pleasure. That, plus the toying of your clit, was bringing you so close. He could practically taste your orgasm.

“Chan, don’t-“

“Uh uh, say it again, ________. Who’s your daddy? Come on, make my day, princess.“

“Fuck- You are,” you repeated, a little louder as your orgasm came rolling down and out of your pussy. Your cunt throbbed and clenched around him, and he finally allowed himself to cum with you. Your two essences became one as they coated his cock, making a mess between his thighs and yours (and the sheets, unfortunately).

“That’s right,” he whispered, but you picked it up. He let out a laugh as you pinched his waist.

“You’re not going to let me live this down, are you?” you asked while he kissed your cheek.

“Absolutely not.”

— taglist #1

@jaylaxies @xiaoting999 @kookthief @zaddywilk @wonrangwoo @pedriswrld @ikykleeknowww @odisdad @abby-grace @jungwonloveer @pinklemonadeflav @celestialplatinum @luvkpopp @nlklstan @kisses4denji @jenos-eye-smiles @a-l-i-y-a @channiesprincess @bekah931215 @heerinnie @fairygirl18 @cinnikoi @im-ur-calico-cat @unlikelysublimekryptonite @k-drizzle

#stray kids smut #bang chan smut #chan smut #skz smut #stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #chan fanfic #chan imagines #bang chan scenarios #chan x reader #[🕷️] kinktober 23

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pandoraslxna · 11 months

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Reader & Lo'ak making out with him on top of her dry humping/grinding into her aggressively

Please 🙏🏻

Close ain’t close enough

adult Lo‘ak x female human reader

Words: 2.3k

Summary: Even though your relationship was still fairly new, you couldn’t stop overthinking how certain things could even work out, between a human and a Na‘vi.

Warnings: explicit smut, minors dni, dry humping, size difference, mentions of belly bulging, making out, cuddling, fluff, dirty talk

Na’vi translations:

Tiyawn - love

Sevin - pretty

Love was the last thing you were looking for when you fled from the RDA and sought refuge in one of the Na’vi clans, around a year and a half ago. But the omatikaya say, that the hearts compass will always guide you true.

And guiding you it did, right into the arms of the olo’eyktan’s son. A young warrior, just a couple of years older than you. A carbon copy of his father in any way, but with metkayina tattoos littered across his chest. A constant reminder of the time he had spent living within another clan, far away from the forest he calls home, back when his own family sought refuge from the war too.

An experience that sort of formed a connection and later a bond between you both. Sharing similar memories, similar emotions of feeling lost and like an outsider quickly became the topic of your very first conversations with each other.

It feels like an eternity had passed since then.

The room Norm had assigned you with wasn’t exactly small, you’ve seen a lot worse here in hells gate. And you were grateful for everything they provided you with, since it was a privilege to even be here in the first place. But with a full grown Na’vi in his twenties, sprawled out over your human-sized bed, your room definitely seemed a little cramped.

It had been around a month ago, since Lo‘ak blurted out that he was in love with you. He’s never been one to overthink things, always living after this silly do-now, think-later mentality. He just told you straight away, when he realized that his feelings for you held way more than any friendship could carry. You, on the other hand, began to overthink a lot. Not about any emotions or feelings— no, you were clearly head over heels in love with the four fingered Na‘vi.

But there was the significant fact that you were a human, a small, oxygen breathing, human. And he was a big, easily eight or nine feet tall, Na‘vi. Even crouching down, Lo‘ak was still big enough to rest his chin on top of your head.

And as children growing up in war, physical affection was something you were both pretty much starved in, so it immediately became some sort of love language for the both of you. Even as friends, ones touch bought the other great comfort. But now that there was something else besides friendship growing between you and Lo‘ak, a simple touch such as holding hands, hugging or cuddling, soon wasn’t enough anymore. It was far from enough, actually.

As you and Lo’ak watched some random movie that Norm had recommended you, your hands almost naturally sought each other out. When your fingers touched beneath the blanket, you had turned to him and smiled softly. He huffed a fond laugh at you through his nose and hooked your fingers together. Focused on the film, you touched absentmindedly. Lo‘ak would massage your fingertips, enjoying how your four fingered hand felt against his own and you would soothingly rub your thumb across the back of his big palm. It was like a perfectly coordinated dance routine, familiar and comfortable.

Every one or two minutes, Lo’ak reached for the mask around his neck, taking supplementary sips of carbon dioxide.

Everything felt peaceful. From the noises of the small TV, to the faint hum of his breathing mask, to the slide of your hands caressing one another. You always felt so incredibly relaxed and content when you were with him.

But even though your relationship was still fairly new, you couldn’t stop thinking about that there were things that you probably could never share with him. Things that couldn’t work out– at least not how they would in a normal relationship. In basically any relationship, where both parties are from the same species, to begin with.

Things, such as being intimate with one another.

Even thinking about it made your mind spin, palms feeling a little sweaty and cheeks flushing a flustered red.

Right on cue, Lo‘ak pulls you just a little closer. And then a hand comes down to lay on your thigh, feeling the soft fabric of your leggings and gently squeezing the flesh underneath. Looking up at him with a raised brow, he only glanced back at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Lo‘aks hand doesn't stop, though. He begins gently rubbing up and down your thigh, fingertips coming dangerously close to touching your core, where a damp spot was already forming on your underwear, despite your internal voice begging your body to calm down. He wasn’t even doing anything yet. It was just his hand on your thigh.

You bite back a gasp when he grips the meat of your inner thigh more firmly. You could feel your resolve crumble more by the second. It gets worse when Lo‘ak leans down to place a gentle kiss on your shoulder, where the straps of your top had slipped down a little and exposed your skin to him.

"Lo‘ak…", you say softly, exhaling a breathe you didn’t even realize you were holding since he had placed a hand on your thigh.

"Hmh?"

"I thought we agreed on taking it slow?" There’s a coy smile on your lips that you weren’t able to hide, along with a playful tone in your voice that almost sounded a little too tempting to his ears.

"What, so now I can’t even kiss my pretty little girlfriend anymore?", he grins and you roll your eyes with a giggle. "We couldn’t take it any slower if we tried, tiyawn"

Another kiss was placed right on top of your collarbone, while he snug his arms around your middle and rolled himself on top of you. His face was now nearly pressed against the space between your breasts and you could feel him inhale deeply, mumbling something you couldn’t quite pick up, but was probably something about how you smelled good.

Your heart begins to beat harder in your chest when you feel him repositioning himself, so your legs were on either side of his hips, spread as wide as you could manage to make room for him.

Lo‘ak grasps at your legs, more in desperation than anything else. His hands roughly massage your plump skin and then he drapes them over his arms and hooks them up higher. At this angle, you were nearly folded in a half and even though Lo‘ak was careful not to crush you under his weight, there was a certain pressure he put on your pelvis with his own hips. This time, there was no way to hold back the gasp escaping your lips, when you finally felt it. His cock, stirring to life underneath his loincloth and pressed snugly against your clothed cunt.

This was new. Touching each other wasn’t new, but the closeness. Feeling each other like this. This was definitely new.

Overcome with need, Lo‘ak moves to press his lips against yours, his tongue instantly wedges itself into your mouth and curls around your own. He suddenly can't think of anything but touching you, in any way he can. You yelp into the kiss, surprised by it’s suddenness, but after a beat, you melt into it, tangling your fingers in his braided hair. Tingles run down his neck at the feeling of your fingers and their movements against his scalp.

Lo‘ak allows himself to move, carefully testing the waters as he grinds himself against you just once. He groans at the feeling of your puffy lips against his cock, perceptible even through the thin fabric of your pants.

Breaking the kiss, Lo’ak exhales shakily, overwhelmed by the reality of the situation, "You don’t make this easy for me, sevin."

He allows himself to look down at where your hips contact one another, feeling his composure slip by the sheer sight of it. He catches himself wishing there were less layers of clothing separating you, as he watches his hard cock glide over your covered pussy.

Lo‘ak looks back up at your face, gazing into your glassy eyes. His beautiful little human girlfriend is pinned beneath him, grasping at him. With lips swollen from a heated kiss and cheeks flushed into a deep shade of red. He presses a kiss right there on the apple of your cheek and even though your face felt hot, his lips were still warm against your skin.

The next kiss is placed on the lobe of your ear, pointy teeth carefully grazing it before he buried his face completely in the crook of your neck.

Another buck of his hips against yours has your mind spiraling. This time, you could clearly feel the outline of his cock. The length alone must’ve been almost half of your forearm, with a girth that would be enough to split you clean in half. Of course a part of you hoped that you were wrong, but apparently all the concerns and the overthinking really was justified.

There was no way that would ever fit inside you.

"I just want to… just want to fuck you. I want to fuck you so bad", Lo‘ak pants and the next sound that flees from your mouth is a noise similar to a whimper, when his tip brushes against your clit. Learning fast, Lo‘ak repeats the same motion again, his length throbbing painfully to the sound of your little mewls and whimpers.

"Eywa, you feel so good like this", he groans, putting just a little more pressure into his thrusts to feel the outline of your cunt against him. "But I can’t stop thinking about how perfect your pussy would feel, wrapped around me so tight."

You moan at the sound of his voice, hot and low, speaking directly into your ear, combined with the way he was aggressively dry humping you now.

"Lo‘ak", your breathy sigh sends a pleasant shiver coursing down his spine. His name has never sounded so sweet before.

"Hmm you’d squeeze me so good, wouldn’t you? And you would be so full of my cock. O-Oh fuck."

One of the hands that’s been grabbing your hips suddenly moves between your bodies to caress your stomach, thumb running in gentle circles around your navel.

"I wonder if I could make your cute tummy bulge, if I could watch my cock move inside you. What do you think, huh?"

You moan and you try to nuzzle yourself against him as much as you can, gasping against his shoulder, "Y-You’re gonna make me cum!" You could really feel it starting to build. You could feel how hard Lo‘ak humping you was starting to pay off. His hips roll against yours frantically and you’re trying not to be too loud as he gazes at you with those blown-out yellow eyes, a look of anticipation on his face.

"Yeah? You’re coming?", Lo’ak grunts roughly, still lifting and dropping his hips with maximum effort. He feels himself getting lost in his imagination, closing his eyes to make him believe that he was actually buried deep inside of you right now and not just humping your clothed cunt like he was some horny teen that’s never touched a woman before. "Shit, baby, i’m close too." He pushes his face back against your neck, panting into your sweaty skin.

Your cunt clenches down on nothing, desperate for his cock, but for right now, more desperate to come than anything else.

"Want to burry my cock into that tight little pussy of yours, want to stretch you nice and wide, see how much of me you can take." He’s rambling now, groaning and panting against you throat. Occasionally, he’s quiet in favor of kissing and sucking on your skin, licking every inch he could reach. His hands hold you in a bruising grip, pulling your hips up and against him as he continues to grind his cock on you.

"P-Please I’m… I’m so close, don’t stop!"

"Can feel how wet you are, baby. You’re fucking drenched, just look at you, making a mess on both ours clothes."

Lo’ak’s right. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel it. Could feel the wetness seep out of you like sticky syrup, soaking your underwear and then your leggings, before they stained his loincloth too. The way his cock was bumping against your clit over and over again didn’t really help with that either, but you were too far gone to care or feel embarrassed about it.

Feeling the same kind of euphoria, Lo’aks eyes flutter closed again, his lids suddenly far too heavy to hold open for another second. Turning your heard, your lips brush his, the barest hint of contact as you pant into each others mouths.

Your orgasm damn-near kills you.

The sheer intensity of your pleasure, combined with the sugar-sweet warmth of your love for him, has tears pearling on your lashes and black dots creeping in at the corners of your vision. It feels like gravity has increased exponentially, trying to force him down against you even harder as you come.

His body is completely unmoving against yours, except for the rhythmic jolt of his hips as spurts of cum seep through the fabric of his loincloth. With every uncontrollable thrust, Lo‘ak grunts softly, pleasure pulsing through his body. Even though his vision is blurry and his mind is foggy, he lifts his head up slightly, making sure to get a glance at you as you’re in the midst of your orgasm.

You look so beautiful. Your eyes are tightly shut, which only highlights your long lashes. Your lips look nibbled red, and even the sweat sliding down your temple looks like something that could only be crafted by Eywa herself.

You both rock soothingly in unison with one another, riding out your highs. You feel sticky basically everywhere and are hit with sudden senses of exhaustion, but you’re kept awake by Lo’aks languidly kissing to the sound of the movie’s end credits rolling on the TV.

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icarusallusion · 12 days

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One of the main reasons I've been so fond of Otasune since I first knew it was a thing was because I think they're genuinely one of the purest forms of love in Metal Gear.

Throughout the series we see horrible relationships between horrible people trying to get by and then that relationship gets dragged through the awful scenarios they live with, be it war, internal struggles, infidelity etc. Despite this common place struggle with so many other characters, we see Otacon and Snake steadfast loyal and healthy throughout every struggle they go through.

They may not be an official couple, but they will always stay the most communicative relationship even outside of shipping. I see people joke about how Otacon kind of bosses Snake around (especially in MGS4), but I always saw it as refreshing. In the series, there is so many times where x character does something horrendous and y character just sits aside and silently sulks about it.

But this doesn't happen, like at all, with Dave and Hal. There are many times where Snake doesn't think about consequences to his actions as a general rule of soldier, however Hal has never been a soldier. So when these things happen, Otacon tells him off and it's something Snake genuinely needs to hear. It's something human, away from combat. Because Otacon is one of the very few characters that talks to Snake as a person, as a human, not as a soldier or fucked up clone baby.

Snake has gone his whole life scrapping the bottom of the barrel to stop feeling so lonely, he flirts with every woman he sees, he attaches himself very easily onto superiors, etc. Snake is a man who has spent his whole life trying to appeal to people, to get the praise he was never allowed as a child. Otacon gives him the comfort he never got. While any military superior can say Dave is the best of the best. None will look him in the face and tell him he has to live to just live.

Hal also opens a lot of doors to Snake's own discovery about himself. While this next point might sound a little cringy, stick with me. People may joke about the anime interest Snake and Otacon share, but it always came across so genuinely sweet to me. Snake's only interests up until he met Otacon have been, stop feeling lonely and war. I think even part of his musher life and interests within sledding can contribute to part of this. I mean come on, not even a regular musher keeps 50 dogs in their house and dogs are a natural remedy to loneliness. But in all seriousness, David refers to the huskies as his only family and I don't see him connecting with any other mushers he works with, it reads as him wanting to not be alone while also still being so lonely. As well as how mushing is considered a more normal interest than being an otaku, especially in the early 2000s. Mushing is a sport, and being an Otaku was pretty much unheard of or hated. Watching this guy who has been stuffed full of war propaganda scream a dorky "falcon punch" and "ninjutsu" with his best friend is so heartwarming in a way.

As well as Otacon's whole meme turned question of "do you think love can bloom on the battlefield?" Is something that I think Snake needed to be asked. It's probably been something he's been thinking about. It is also one of the most human things Snake asked throughout the game. About finding love in fear. Otacon constantly prods into Snake's heart and brings out the good in him.

Not only does Hal open up a space for Snake to have genuine unashamed interests and show true pure humanity. He also shows off their childhood. Both Hal and David never got proper childhoods. They connect that with each other through cheesy animes, talking about uncertainty in love, finding out what life is all about, navigating feelings, and through that damn cheesy handshake hug. It's all genuinely pure and wholesome love that connects what they didn't get to explore in childhood with one another. When Snake opened that piss covered locker and saved Otacon, he brought his own salvation into his life without knowing it. The very presence of Otacon saved Snake. It's why MGS4 felt so depressing for me especially, the strain between Snake and Otacon left a hole in my little heart and made Snake feel even more hopeless.

I also want to talk about how Snake benefited Otacon.

Otacon begins as cowardly and timid, he's an incredibly insecure character that struggles to connect with others, probably stemming from the issues in his younger life. When he meets Snake, he's faced with someone he could relate to that has an outward appearance that makes him seem so much more confident than he is. Snake is not this, he's as insecure as Otacon. Indirectly, Snake is the whole reason Otacon gets on his feet to take action against terrorism, takes action to become a better person. Snake shows Hal that he doesn't haven't to be strong to do the right thing. Throughout time, Snake helps Otacon come to terms with his own self worth and issues.

In MGS2, it has one of my favorite examples. The infamous bro hug scene.

Before it, this is when Otacon allows himself to open up about his childhood, not even just Infront of Snake, Infront of Raiden too. This showcased such a development in his character because he's proudly talking about it, while even through tears he doesn't hide it anymore.

Did you know that during that scene if you pan the camera to Snake, you can see that he is crying too?

When Hal has a breakdown over his sister's death, Snake is there to comfort him as well as tell him how it is in bluntness with a hand on his back that he needs to save people. It isn't cold or callous, it's letting Otacon know that he has something worth fighting for after a loss like that. Then when they face one another, they embrace each other and Snake tells Hal that he believes in him. Hal spent a lot of time as a scientist, hoping for someone to believe in him, while Snake puts all of his belief into Hal.

I can never forget the iconic "You're the only god I can pray to, Otacon" line. Snake has a deep loyalty, love, and belief in Otacon that Otacon has never been truly given before.

They both, in turn love each other till the end of their lives. Their love was one of the most heart wrenching and beautiful things in Metal Gear Solid and it's no surprise it captivated so many people. Their relationship, whether you ship them or just see them as a bromance. There is no denying the love they feel for one another as friends or lovers is one of the most iconic and sweetest bromances out theres They have impacted so much pop culture and I love them forever, as I'm sure many of you do who read all the way to the bottom.

#mgs #otasune #metal gear solid #solid snake #otacon #hal emmerich #little sappy post sorry guys i love them

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bunnyreaper · 4 months

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𝓷𝓸𝓫𝓸𝓭𝔂 𝓭𝓸𝓮𝓼 𝓲𝓽 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓭𝓸

𝒶 𝒿𝑜𝒽𝓃 𝓅𝓇𝒾𝒸𝑒 𝓍 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝓈𝑒𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈

𝓅𝓉 2 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒

wc - 5.2k

warnings - 18+/nsfw (eventually), mentions of cheating (not from reader or john), age gap (older male younger female), future daddy kink, mentions of blood

notes - back at it again in dilfville, hopefully, this chapter is worth the wait! ♥ also on ao3! ♥

How easy it is to forget about the outside world with John by your side is startling. Everything other than him melts away into the background, and in the safety and comfort of his home, the two of you exist in your own little peaceful bubble.

In the back of your mind, you know it'll eventually sink to the ground and violently pop, but for now, the two of you float—suspended in tranquility. Your day goes by so easily, as you rest on the couch and watch TV with John—phone forgotten about, troubles set aside.

John makes it easy to forget. He's always had this way about him, like his mere presence lifts a weight off your shoulders while he carries it, carries you, just for a while, and allows your world to be a little lighter.

It's later into the evening when you finally find yourself compelled to get off of the couch and actually do something with your day, when John pulls you out of the reverie you'd settled into together.

"I should get on with dinner." He says, slapping his thighs before he rises from the comfort of the couch and the warmth of being your human footrest.

You're quick to rise too, sitting up straight as you try to recall him to the couch before he can make too much of a fuss. The guilt of taking advantage of his hospitality is already eating at you—regardless of how illogical it may be.

"Let me do it." You plead. "You're kind enough to let me stay here, at least let me repay you."

John pauses, his eyes narrowing at you briefly before one of his thick eyebrows arches. "Darling, aren't you bloody sick of cooking?"

Even when he's giving so much, he's still exceedingly considerate.

"Only when cooking for a man who doesn't appreciate me, otherwise I enjoy it." You climb to your feet with a smile, making your way over to John to gently push him in the direction of the kitchen. Whilst he moves with a stubbornness, you know he's still letting you push him, otherwise you know you wouldn't be able to move him an inch.

A smirk tugs at his lips, hidden behind his thick beard as he finds himself amused by your antics. The levity you bring to his otherwise burden-filled life is not something that goes unrecognised by him—not now, not ever.

Finally, he truly relents, letting you direct you both into the kitchen, moving himself enough to make your job of pushing him easier. "If you want to help, I wouldn't mind your company."

Your hands withdraw from the warm, broad expanse of his back and settle by your sides, as you feel the need to pull away from him the second it's no longer necessary—scared by how good the physicality felt, even if it was entirely playful in nature. It's been so long since you felt so light and got to share it with someone else, an age since you indulged in light-hearted touch.

"What's on the menu?" You ask as you move to the sink and force yourself into doing something to keep you busy—tackling the dishes seems like a good idea for being both helpful and suitably occupied.

John makes his way to the fridge, swinging open the heavy door of the American-style fridge-freezer with ease, and immediately moving to grab fresh ingredients. "Spag Bol."

"Ooh, your signature dish." You coo, recalling fondly the many occasions he has hosted you for dinner in the past.

Dinners had become a regular thing when John and James had been getting to know each other, with you often there as a buffer—not that you did it begrudgingly or ever minded so much. Getting to know John was an unexpected delight, and as the two of you recently agreed, a friendship had formed—regardless of your relationship with his son. You'd spent many nights over at his for dinner or drinks—good food and delightful conversation, memories you treasured.

Even in the beginning, John's protective and caring nature had extended to you almost immediately—a natural extension, you’d presumed, of his growing bond with his biological son. He'd dropped off meals for you when you were sick, memorised your tea and coffee preferences, always took the time to buy you a thoughtful gift for Christmas and birthdays.

John cuts through your trip down memory lane with the thud of him putting a pile of ingredients down on the countertop. "Well, I know you love it so much. Went to the shops last night to get everything."

An exasperated sigh leaves you. For a man so good at taking care of others, there were times when John Price's self-care was severely lacking. As the sink fills with sudsy, hot water, you pin John with your most intimidating glare. "When do you ever even sleep, John?"

He returns your look for the briefest moment, then smirks at your attempt to look authoritative. "I sleep plenty, don't you worry."

A realisation seems to strike him a moment later.

John heads over to the record player in the corner, flipping the switch and setting down the needle.

It's easy for John to succumb to the relaxed atmosphere of his kitchen—music playing and you by his side. His fingers drum against the turntable stand as the opening notes of the rock-reggae fill the room and quiet any further chastisement from you.

"Young teacher, the subject of schoolgirl fantasy—" John's voice carries louder than the vocals, a smooth tone you've heard so rarely before—John only sings when he feels most at peace.

Whilst his voice is beautiful, the subject matter of the song almost feels inappropriate in the moment, though the way your cheeks flush makes you think it's just you projecting.

"Oh my god, John." You groan playfully, rolling your eyes and watching as he sways his hips ever so slightly as he makes his way back over to you, still softly singing the words.

He stops singing as he steps beside you at the sink, leaning onto the counter slightly with a hint of a smirk on his face and an incredible amount of mirth in his eyes. For once, he seems so light.

"Never had a crush on an older man?" He asks, his tone light and yet still with a hint of teasing. Perhaps he thinks your opposition to the song is your lack of relating to it, rather than the fact you relate a little too much.

You're not sure when it really started, or when it escalated uncontrollably, but lately, you've been looking at John in a different light. It's probably the combination of the heartbreak, the sleep deprivation, and the beard. You were always a sucker for a gruff-looking, unavailable older gent.

And now here one is singing a song about forbidden love, lovers separated by age—like he knows what you're thinking, what you're feeling.

"Obviously I have." You scoff, almost dismissively, as you turn to slip the first few dishes into the water. John stays silent for a moment, and curiosity gets the better of you. "Ever had a crush on a younger woman?"

He barks out a laugh, pushing himself away from the counter as you see him shake his head and suck in his lips. "No comment."

Your mind starts to wander, as you try to think about what kind of woman catches John Price's eye. His circumstances are difficult and his standards clearly high, as he hasn't been in a relationship in the years you've known. John nudges you with his hip, as he leans over the sink to start washing his hands.

His warmth is overwhelming beside you, and only spreading further. You try to focus on anything but his large hands, as he covers them in the suds he works up from the soap. You try not to stare at the way he grips the bar, and practically chokes the block with his fingers, nor how he works the creamy lather up his hairy forearms.

But you’d be lying if you said the plate in your hands got any cleaner. Of course, you could blame your stillness on courtesy—you're just giving him the space he needs to wash his hands so he can get on with cooking, nothing more.

"Zenyatta Mondatta is a classic." He all but whispers from above you, as if he still feels the need to justify his album choice.

"Best album the year you were born?"

"I was born 81, not 80, bun." He tuts, shaking off the excess wetness from his hand before he reaches around you to grab the hand towel from where it's threaded through the handle of the cupboard beside you.

Your grip on the plate tightens exponentially despite the slippery surface, as a cascade of shivers passes over your body and pools low in your gut.

The tension in your body feels like it's ready to snap at any moment, and yet just before it can, John pulls away, and a cold sweeps back in.

"Don't stand, don't stand so close to me." His singing almost taunts you as he saunters back over to his ingredients and gets to work.

You try to focus again on the dishes in the sink. Yet, you couldn't wipe the wide smile off your face if you tried, exhilarated by life's simple pleasures—by the way, it seems that colour is starting to bleed back into your life in all these little moments. A flurry of feelings you haven't felt in so long floods you, too.

"Forgot how much I love being in the kitchen with other people." You laugh, verbalising your happiness in a fairly throwaway comment.

"Kitchens are the heart of the home, as they say." John replies, and you can tell he's smiling fondly, probably recalling the nights spent at his kitchen island with you, James, and the other people lucky enough to be in his life.

After a moment, he continues on, yet his tone is more somber than before. "You know, sweetheart, I wish I'd have known sooner how he really treated you."

You wonder if it would've made a difference.

"He's just not for me, he's not necessarily bad just... okay, I mean besides the cheating." You say, wrinkling your nose with disgust—still, you find yourself making excuses for him, finding ways to soften the blow.

John sighs. "You give him too much credit, love."

It feels wrong somehow to open up to John about this, despite his soothing on the matter. "It wasn't fair for me to talk to you about that stuff, even if you do give the best advice. Still doesn't feel fair, really." You grumble as you scrub at a bowl, removing the dirt.

"And what about what's fair and best for you, hmm?" John's chopping grows louder, more erratic, as his frustration flows through his arm and his wrath is taken out on the raw onions. "For crying out loud, the lad cheated on you. I have half a mind to go over there myself to finish what we started earlier."

You shrug, entirely uncertain of how to untangle the messy web that is your emotions. Guilt, relief, anger, and peace all swirl together, with no one feeling jumping out clearly and continuously beyond the others.

"Look at me," John calls your attention to him, only speaking again once you do. The look on his face is deeply sincere, his eyes betraying the emotion within. "Once you're on your feet again, if you want nothing to do with me, all you have to do is say. Otherwise, I'll be in your life for as long as you let me."

Fuck.

"That's reassuring." You nod, smiling genuinely, yet you try to restrain it lest you betray how much it really means to you. "Yeah, I guess, as you said earlier, we're friends."

You say it more to convince yourself, as it's a truth that isn't going to change regardless of a silly schoolgirl crush.

"Not planning on changing that unless you are, love." John smiles.

See, you say to yourself, he's all but confirmed it too. "I'm glad some things are going to stay the same..." You mutter, though there is some sincerity and reality to your statement. "Especially when everything else is about to get turned upside down."

"I suspect you'll be better off when the dust settles."

"I hope so."

You turn back to the dishes, trying to focus on the music rather than the thoughts that battle against John's soothing words. His quiet company helps stave off some of the discontent, the sound of him cooking and singing quietly providing a safety blanket around you.

"Do have to let you know I got the call, leaving sooner than I would've liked."

"When?" You feel yourself stiffen. Every time John leaves, you're always a little on edge—and yet, with the circumstances, this time just feels worse.

"Tomorrow." He admits softly.

"You've only been back a matter of days." Your heart pangs.

He scoffs. "No rest for the wicked, eh?"

"It's gonna feel weird getting settled in here, but especially alone." You offer up your honesty, in the hopes it'll alleviate the gentle crushing of your chest, yet you try to remain stony-faced.

"One big change at a time, love." John's voice is soothing, as he attempts to reassure you. "Change of scenery, then change of roommate. It'll give you a chance to just be free of Price men for a moment."

"He's not really a Price..." You sigh, because maybe if he were, things would've been different. If John had raised him... would he be a better man? Not that you believe his mother is to blame for his issues, but you know from James' occasional rants that he didn't have a male figure he respected growing up.

"I suppose not." Behind your back, John shrugs. "Point still stands, though. While I'm not thrilled about the idea of you being all alone, at least it gives you some space to think of what comes next."

"I guess it does." You sigh and try to focus on that thought—time to figure things out and feel the relief of being free. A wry laugh leaves you when you realise John has managed to reframe his departure as a positive thing. "Fuck, I hate how you always make me feel better."

"Hah, add it to my list of crimes."

A beat passes before a stray thought pops into your head. "If you're headed back, does that mean you'll be shaving?"

You crane your head around just in time to see John pause, turn, and stroke at his beard.

"Don't know. What do you think?" He continues to stroke at the grown-out brown hair, as you get lost taking in his features and the way that they seem to look so different with his new, fluffier style.

"Feel like you've been staring at it a lot, not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing." He chuckles, his smile tight-lipped and a touch self-conscious in a way that only you can bring out of him.

"Somehow, it makes you look..." Your brain scrambles for an adjective that isn't 'daddier'. "... younger?"

On anyone else, a full beard would likely age them, but compared to John's usual old-timey war general look, it gives him more of a casual, handsome look. You remind yourself to ask for pictures of what he looked like before he grew facial hair.

"Ageing myself prematurely with the mutton chops, then?" He frowns ever so slightly, though you know his pout is completely playful.

You throw your head back with a laugh. "Thought that's why you did it, to really solidify your authority."

"Don't need any kind of facial hair for that, love." He purrs, sending a shiver down your spine.

You force your attention back to the dishes and school your expression into something more neutral, dunking in all the cutlery in at once as you desperately begin to clean. It's a clear attempt to make sure John doesn't notice your reaction to his words.

"Whatever you say, John." You mutter, trying to end the conversation before it spirals any further out of control.

He laughs, hums, then casually says something you never expected. "Mmm, now that's what I like to hear."

"Ow, fuck!" You yell as pain sears through your skin, a knife hidden in the soapy water slicing through your skin at the momentary distraction.

John is over in a flash, coming to your aid and pulling your hand into his grasp so he can inspect the wounds. "Christ, love, are you alright?"

"Fine, I mean, it's only small." Each word is through gritted teeth, as you try to tough it out in front of John.

Despite the fact the incisions across your fingers aren't particularly deep, they bead with crimson blood and pulse with stinging pain.

"Right, that's enough. Sit down." One of John's hands remains holding your hand while the other settles on your shoulder, and he manoeuvres you to one of the stools at the kitchen island. He pays no mind to the way your soaked arm drips onto his t-shirt and jeans, too focused on his mission.

"Yes, sir." You say absentmindedly, feeling like one of his men—you don't notice the way he stiffens, his touch getting a fraction tighter, as his body and mind jolt at such simple words.

He doesn't meet your eye, instead inspecting the cuts before turning to grab the first aid kit he keeps under the sink. "Doesn't look like it'll need stitches."

"This isn't a battlefield injury, John, and I'm not a child!" You can't help but pout exaggeratedly, as not only does it convey your meaning, but it helps disguise your wince as John cleans, dries, and dresses your cuts.

"No more washing up. Don't give me that look." He fixes you with a look and a stern point that just dares you to challenge him, and for a moment, you glare right back at him.

In the end, you know you stand no chance of winning against the formidable foe that is protective, Papa Bear John Price. One time you insisted on washing up after he cooked, and he followed you into the kitchen to turn off the water main, just to show you how serious he was that you sit down and fucking relax.

"Fine." You sigh, as John's moment as a nurse comes to a close, with him finishing your dressings and packing away the first aid kit.

"Sit pretty. Food won't be too long." He tells you before he returns to the pans on the hob, checking on the spaghetti and stirring the bolognese.

The fragrance from the stewing sauce surrounds you, making your mouth water in anticipation of John's signature dish. It doesn't distract you from the pain completely, but it at least gives you something to focus on as you try to ignore it.

"Can I... ask something that I've been wondering about for a while?" You ask, propping your head on your non-injured hand as you watch John work.

"Of course." He nods, eyes flickering to meet yours briefly.

"Have you and James' mum ever talked about... you know, everything?" You resist the urge to pick at the medical tape securing the bandage to your skin, as you know that eventually it's going to come off. "I don't know why I never asked before, guess I felt awkward, and I tried asking James, but he never wanted to talk about it."

John pauses, taking a moment to think. "We met for coffee once, after I first found out. She was very apologetic, explained her side of things."

It's easy for you to tell, having grown accustomed to his expressions, that there's more to the story than he lets on. John always tends to play his cards close to his chest when it comes to his inner workings, asking more questions than he ever answers, but you're used to that look in his eyes whenever there's something he's holding back.

At least, you like to think so. If you're good at telling when he's withholding, you're even better at not pressing him, at least under usual circumstances. Today, something compels you to ask more.

"Do you... resent her for what she did?"

"No." He answers, a little too quickly, before rolling his shoulders and straightening his posture. "Maybe I should, maybe I should resent the fact I missed his childhood. I suppose I do, but I would never have had the life I've had otherwise."

"Figured I might still have the chance to be a dad, but would've never had the chances I did had I not joined the army."

The insight into John's mind is fascinating, intoxicating, even. It's hard to imagine him as anything other than a captain, even if father and family man suits him quite well too.

"You wouldn't have joined up if you'd known?" You ask, questions still tumbling out of you as curiosity about John leaks out of every pore.

"No." He pauses, pressing his hands into the counter. Finally, he looks at you with stormy, emotion-filled eyes. "Would've stayed, married her. Done the right thing." It looks like it pains him to admit it, as his brows furrow and his lips tighten.

"Wow. Must be weird seeing her now, knowing she could've been your wife." You probably shouldn't have said it aloud, but the thought of that different reality is so jarring to you that it slips before you can stop it.

"She's a stranger, really." He shrugs.

"A stranger you had sex with... once upon a time." You say, squinting as you try to imagine John and James's mum sharing anything beyond pleasant smiles and polite small talk.

"Barely." A dismissive scoff leaves him, as he picks up the wooden spoon and returns his attention to his cooking.

"Barely? What does that mean?"

"Well, it was only once, and even then... every man has to learn somehow, love." John says the words as if they're so casual, yet they cause heat to rush to your cheeks.

"Your son still hasn't learned at all." You say the words without thinking, a tinge of bitter resentment bursting through. "Sorry, fuck."

"S'fine." John tries his hardest to stifle the smile that tugs at the corner of his lips, practically throwing himself into grabbing bowls and cutlery to serve up the meal. "He really didn't know how to handle you, did he, love?"

Your chest seizes once more—guilt, indignation, amusement, confusion. There's a hope within you that when the dust is all settled, you'll end up with someone like John, someone who can treat you better.

"No, he didn't..." You admit weakly, before checking yourself. "Sorry, I think the pain and the blood loss are making me woozy. I'm gonna stop talking now."

John only smiles understandingly, eyes shining with mirth, as he passes you an oversized bowl filled with delicious spaghetti. He takes a seat beside you, knee knocking into yours as he makes himself comfortable— his warmth feeling too close for comfort and yet not close enough at all.

"Eat up, darling girl."

********

You and John finish up your meal in companionable silence, accompanied by the rest of the tracks on the current vinyl. As always, John's cooking leaves you full and satisfied, warm from the inside out.

Once more, you're banned from washing dishes and were only able to get on drying duty after begging John and pulling out your most convincing doe eyes. The night ended with you both turning in sooner than usual, in anticipation of John's departure the next morning.

Usually, you last saw John off when he came to visit you and James, putting on a brave face and wishing him well. You're thankful that with the new proximity, you can at least fret in the privacy of your new bedroom, away from John's worrying eyes—the last thing he needs to see before he leaves is your tear-stained cheeks.

Sleep doesn't come easily, as you toss and turn in bed and try not to think of being alone in the coming days, or the possibility of something happening to John.

When sleep finally does come, you wake in a panic—sweaty and dry-mouthed. The nightmare that plagued you is hard to recall, the only thing burning in your mind is the final scene. You have to flee into the night, and you're desperate to grab something to cover up with so you don't freeze to death—you can't find anything warm anywhere. The image quickly fades away as you blink your eyes open.

You roll over to the side of the bed, clutching your phone and practically burning your eyes when the screen blares into your corneas.

3:59. 16 minutes to your alarm.

With John's departure fast approaching, you throw yourself out of bed, grabbing your cardigan and wrapping it around yourself before you head in the direction of John's room.

The door is closed firmly, likely to quiet any noise he makes from rustling around in preparation. You knock lightly on the wood, waiting for John to call you in.

You step in, taking in John's appearance. It seems he decided to keep the outgrown facial hair after all, the fluffy beard leading down to the chest hair poking out from the top of a soft grey cotton tee.

The dog tags around his neck are the only nod to his upcoming deployment, as he leaves John behind and heads off to become Captain Price.

He smiles as soon as he sees you, though it doesn't escape your notice that it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Hope I didn't wake you."

"Nah, can't sleep." You explain, as you make your way further into the room and perch yourself on the end of John's bed gingerly. "Figured I'd make you sick of me, so you're glad to be away."

You peer into the holdall that John's currently packing things into, inspecting his contents and mentally ticking items off a checklist.

"Don't think anything could make me glad of that, love." He frowns, pausing as he expertly folds a t-shirt and places it in his bag. "Especially at a time like this."

"I'll be fine." You say it for his sake, even if you don't entirely believe it. Your number one priority right now is sending him off with a smile.

As you spot one of his signature beanies poking out of a side pocket, you pluck it off the duvet and pull it over your bedhead. "Maybe I'll just run riot while you're gone, throw all your cigars in the bin, and steal every beanie you own."

That brings a smirk out of him, the worry clearing from his eyes. "Evil girl."

"Yeah, I'm a right menace." You confirm, a gleeful smile spreading across your face unrestrained.

Several things stand out to you in the bag or surrounding it—the sunglasses case, a tan-coloured rag, and John's beloved boonie hat. Your quick inspection gives you an insight into where John is headed—flip-flops again, you joke to yourself.

"Guessing you're off to some shitty desert then." You comment, not intending to pry any further.

"Feel like I never leave them." He notes—that wry smile returning to his face as he meets your gaze.

"Have you packed your sun cream?" You ask, half joking and half serious.

"Wouldn't hear the end of it if I didn't, hmm?" He chuckles knowingly, likely recalling the last time he came home with a sunburn and was met with your impassioned rant. He'd learned his lesson at least.

"And the moisturiser we got you for Christmas?"

"Already packed." He pats the toiletry bag on the bed, and you rush to pick it up, unzip it, and verify his claim.

"Lip balm?" You ask, peering up at him with a mischievous grin, just waiting for his reaction.

"Now you're just taking the piss."

You pull your beanie down low on your forehead, just as you've seen John wear it, then you cross your arms across your chest and drop your voice. "Sorry lads, cover my six, gotta get my Burts Bees on."

At that, he belly laughs. "I'd never live it down, and you wouldn't do that to me, would you?"

You rise from the bed, laughing with him, before you remove the beanie and reach up to place it over his head instead. "No, Captain." You whisper, grin bright.

"You're a handful, love." Despite his words, the fondness in his voice is clear as day.

You tap his cheek playfully before stepping away. "Well, fear not, like I said, you're rid of me for a little while."

"Desert doesn't seem so bad now you mention it." John rolls his eyes playfully, before turning to add the final items and zipping up the bag beside him.

"Have you got everything you need?" You ask, instinct taking over as you begin to fret over ensuring everything is perfect for John's departure.

"I do know how to pack for myself, but if you want me to humour you..." John's hands fall to the zip, ready to tear the bag open if it would rid you of the concerned frown growing on your face.

You back away, hands raised. Point taken, you think to yourself. "I'm used to fussing, okay."

"You and me both." He nods, then shoulders the bag and gestures for you to head out of the room.

You lead the way like heading up a death march, slow gait and head lowered, knowing what's to come. With each step, a sense of dread grows within you. John is leaving, and there's seemingly an unspoken agreement between you both that something about this time feels more severe.

When you both reach the door, John shrugs on his sherpa-lined jacket, ties up his boots, and stands as he summons up the nerve to leave.

Once again, a half-hearted smile graces his face, as he reaches out to rub at your arm. "I'll call you when I'm headed back from base, yeah?"

You nod, blinking back the tears that threaten to bead in your eyes, once more putting on a brave face. The mention of his call makes your mind flicker to your usual routine.

"Will you be going to see—"

"No love. I'll be coming straight home." He interrupts, squeezing you before withdrawing as if it burns to touch you.

"Stay safe, John." You whisper, the words you say every time coming easily. You swear to yourself that the words act as protection, or at least, you hope they do.

"Always, love." He nods, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to your forehead. Then, he opens the door and steps over the threshold. "Anything you need, I'll get back to you when I can, yeah?"

"Yeah." You nod, struggling to get out even a word as your throat tightens.

"See you soon, darling girl." He calls out, and you watch him until his truck pulls out of the street and off toward danger.

#captain price x reader #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain price #captain john price #john price #call of duty x reader #nobody does it like you do #call of duty fanfiction #spotify

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lieutenantsluvr · 4 months

Text

༉‧₊˚✧

❝ cough medicine & kisses ❞

pairing : sick!simon riley x fem!reader

tags : NSFW, Undefined relationship. (Unprotected p in v, mentions of overstimulation.)

Synop : sub!simon who isn't actually a sub, but just so overworked he wants to fuck himself dumb.

w/c 3.8k

Sick. It’s a word you never thought you’d hear from your Captain’s mouth. “Sick?” You repeat, like a broken record. It only earns a small nod from Price, followed by a short breath of annoyance. Yeah, Okay. You can practically read the older man's mind, “Go check on him yourself if you’re so worried.” Is what he would say if he had any less humanity in him. But, he saves you the hit to your already fragile ego. Did you even want to see Simon? The feeling of seeing him in a state any less of… cold? makes your stomach churn in an uncomfortable turmoil.

Softly knocking on the door to his barrack, peeling your knuckles away from the cold wood frame. Noise within his barrack ceases, only for a few seconds before you hear a groan. Followed by a cough. Maybe two, or three more. Simon opens the door. He's still sporting his usual balaclava - But, his eyes are deep, darker and glossy. Dark circles line the bottom of his lids, similar to that of a raccoon. Blonde hair slightly tufted up, messily sprawled over his head. Sure enough, he looks sick as a dog.

"What do you want?" He asks, his voice an octave lower than it usually is. Still dark, gravelly, but it has more ache to it. The way his voice strains almost sends you to your knees. Vulnerable. It’s the only word that comes to mind as you look at him right now. Would he tear the limbs from your body if he knew you thought of him this way? Absolutely. But, as much as the big brute tries… you care for him nonetheless. “I’m here to check up on you.” You state, voice coming out a little bit more weakly than anticipated. Nice one. You try to recover, eyes briefly flicking somewhere else in the dimly lit hallway to escape his unrelenting gaze down. “You haven’t come out of your room in two days,” You add with a small tut of your lips, breaking the silence that seems to only make you uncomfortable. “Have you been eating?”

“I don’t need a nurse.” He states, flatly. His eyes languidly trail against your body, as if sucking up every detail, and then spitting it back out. Simon has taken a comfortable position in his doorway, his arm hiked up above himself to lean against the frame of the door. He has a fever. In fact, you know he has a fever. Tiny sweat beads forming above his brow, barley in sight from the way his balaclava is messily dragged across his face. He heaves for a second, as if trying to conceal a cough. Then, he spits it out - Coughing again, throat dry and raw. It takes him a moment to regain his composure, blinking away the blur that choked itself into his vision. “And, I eat when I feel like it.” Despite the sickness, he doesn't step down from his authoritative role. Big fuckin’ baby.

“I can practically feel your fever from here.” You huff, a quick folding of your arms to defend yourself from his princess attitude. “Have you taken medicine?” You continue, feeling the urge to take care of him swirl in your gut. No, you weren’t a mommy to the men of the taskforce, but more often than not, you found yourself stirring up a pot of soup to soothe their aching throats. Or placing a cold cloth on their foreheads when they ignored the chill in their bones. As much as you loved to tease them about their uselessness when it came to taking care of their bodies, part of you actually enjoyed the play. Okay, maybe you were mommy.

“I can take care of myself, thank you.” He chuffs, a small wheeze from his constricting lungs. You can feel the heat radiate from his body. The smell radiating from the inside of his barrack is deep, and musky. A mixture of his sweat and natural scent. Something about it makes your skin rise, and your heart scutter. You remind yourself that he’s sick, and probably wouldn’t take too kindly to the thought of getting you sick either. The sound of him clearing the phlegm from his throat quickly pulls you from your thoughts - now, no longer turned on. . . just a little more empathetic, you sigh. It’s like the man can feel your persistence from where you stand in the doorway. You just won’t back down. His head slightly lowers, eyes shutting for a second before they reopen and stare back at you. “No.” He says, flatly. All you do is quirk an eyebrow in wake of his question, and he’s shifting in front of you. Clearly his sickness is wearing down his resolve, and he’s almost submitting to your obvious request to take care of him. It's like a cowboy stand-off. Two idiots staring each other down, too stubborn to admit they just want to cuddle.

The stare is only broken as he wheezes out a choked out cough, eyes fluttering shut against the tears that build against his lid. “Fine,” Another cough, “You win.” He slides his arm down from the frame of the doorway, fingers flexing for a moment before resting at his sides, now unmoving. A single stare, until he crosses the room to his bed, sitting on the edge - almost robotically. Clearly he’s uncomfortable with your presence. Clearly he’s uncomfortable even having someone in his room.

You step into the room, eyes taking in the unfamiliar sight. A sight you’ve honestly been dreaming of. It’s a larger room, one that comes from the privilege of being Lieutenant. There aren’t really any decorations, perhaps a plant or two. Mixtures of grays and blacks littering the color scheme of his room. From there, your eyes drift to his bedside table - a tiny bite of what seems to be four crackers on a paper plate, an empty glass of water, and a multitude of used tissues. Not the… good kind of used. Nonetheless, your brain wracks with the sudden realization. He’s sick. Not just, sniffly, but genuinely sick.

“Go on,” You prompt, a soft wave of your hand, “Lay down.” He’s quick to obey you, though, not without protest. He grumbles to himself, incoherent sick whining. Eyebrows furrowed, and an ached whine as he slides himself into bed. “I’m not tired.” He chuffs, but even he knows that’s bullshit. His eyes are barely opened, glassy, and the dark circles that line them almost look painful. “You’re tired.” You reply, knowingly. It’s a quick walk across the room, opening his bathroom door and searching for a washcloth. Once found, you wet the rag, wringing it from excess water and then trotting back over to the side of his bed. Eyes falling down on his sicken frame, you see the way his muscles contract with every labored breath. Simon seems in pain. His scowl visibly softens, his eyes flicking between the soft hold you have on the rag, and your face. A quick quirk of your eyebrow, as if saying, are you going to let me do this? His eyes lower, and a pained chuff emits itself from his scratchy throat. You’re already at the side of his bed, there’s no stopping you now. “I’m not a child.” He reminds you, though, it’s clear he could use the coddling. “Yes,” You begin, leaning over and lowering the cloth to his forehead, “Such a big boy.” Tone lacking malice, and only harboring love for the sick man. He's stubborn - even as sick as he is, Simon doesn't want to be babied, even if he knows he desperately needs it. He keeps his lips clamped tight, trying to stay stoic. Stilling even when he feels the cool washcloth press to his forehead, when his skin is flushed and on fire. It takes a great deal of willpower to stay quiet when the cool cloth soothes his aching body. He's breathing deep, and slow now. It doesn't matter how he feels about you, his body needs the rest.

He’s out like a light. Unmoving, and slow breathing. Broad shoulders, and firm chest rising with every sickly breath he inhales and exhales. A quick glance around the room, and you plan your next attack. Simply cleaning up his barrack, and preparing him a small meal. Though, the tasks do take awhile, having thoroughly cleaned the place. It’s the least you could do. Right?

It wasn't until he stirred in bed that you finally approached him again, a small groaning emitting from his lips as he stretched the sleep from his aching muscles. “Hey..” You cooed, fingers haunting the area of his forehead to check his temperature. He was still quite warm, definitely entering the cusp of breaking the fever, but still quite sick. His eyes take a moment to register your presence, glossed honeyed gaze rising up and taking in your concerned gaze.

“You stayed?” The words were like a knife to your gut, twisting, sinking, and ripping it out. Stayed? Why the hell wouldn’t you stay? The realization hits you even harder, a freight train dragging your body the whole span of the track. “Of course,” You sigh, your hand softly trailing down his face, thumb grazing in wake of his jawline, “Why would I leave?” The touch brings him peace. A wake of molten arising on his very skin, eyes clamping shut. Your touch - It's a gentle, comforting gesture, one you seldom see in your line of work. “I don’t know.” He croaks out after a moment, eyes only opening enough to watch as your thumb ghosts the fabric of his balaclava. He wants to respond, he can feel the words forming at the tip of his tongue. But, they're caught when she drags her thumb down his chin again. He swallows hard, looking around for a way to avoid a response, but finds none. “Shut up,” You interrupt before he can grasp on to the feeling in his chest, “Take this.”

You’re quick to reach over to the bedside table, handing him one or two pills from the bottle, and holding the glass of ice water in your other hand. He looks at it, awkwardly before taking the medication from your palm. His hand raises to his balaclava, hooking a thumb underneath and raising it up just enough to place the pills on his tongue. You try not to look. Keyword, try. Soft stubble from days of not shaving, sharp jawline, and lips full enough to lay claim against. He notices, of course. He notices everything. Eyes flicking down your face, then down to the glass of water. Simon takes hold of it, his fingers grazing against your own as he slips the glass into his own hand. The contact sends shivers down your body, now aching from the servitude you’ve dove into. It’s like fucking shell-shock, the way his touch rattles up and down your nervous system, until the only thing you can think about is pushing him against the bed, and stuffing down on his cock so- “Are ya gonna give me the glass?” He mutters, a slight pressure as he tries to take the glass. You sputter, only for a moment, before letting him take it. Simon makes quick work to the glass, putting it to his now, unclothed lips, and taking a few swigs - soft drops of water forming against lips. Lips so soft you can almost feel the sensation. Lips so soft you can hear the demons in your head screaming to roll it between your teeth.

You avert your gaze, hushing the demons that claw themselves from the pit of your stomach. It was like something in your body shifted - a sense of you shouldn’t be here eating up your consciousness. Quickly, you stand up, eyes flicking over only to catch the clink of Simon setting down the glass. “Where are you off too?” His words are thin, and hoarse, as if he can barely speak against the sickness building inside of him. You actually had no clue where you were going, only crossing over to the kitchen to make yourself look busy. Being away from him was helping, though, the butterflies in your stomach pitter pattering against gummy insides. “Just gonna do some of your dishes, no big deal.” You chide, the heat you once felt on your back from his stare very quickly becomes real heat. “Why are you acting weird?” Simon asks, placing a hand down on the countertop beside you, his body loosely caging your presence. You could walk away, simply move from the spot you’re in, and he’s giving you that option. But you don’t. “You’re sick, go lay down.” You usher, trying to get him to back up. Hand slipping to push on his waist, only a little, fingers barely grazing the fabric of his tight gray t-shirt. He’s quick with his movement, a single hand snapping up to grab hold of your wrist - the same wrist linked to a hand pressed a little higher than his hip. “I thought you were nursing me back to health, yeah?” He chuffs, the reverberating ache in his throat causing his usual tone to deepen by an entire octave. So, there he is, caging you to the kitchen countertop. A hand on your wrist, and the other placed against the granite, fingers visibly curling. I might just take him on this countertop, you think to yourself, the demons practically chewing on the bars of your brain. Deep in thought, he takes a small movement in your daze, his hand cascading up from your wrist to your shoulder - a soft grip, but one that still drips of possession. “I asked you a question.” He asks, head dipping down to meet your height. Dilated pupils, a small form of sweat against his brow, and the remaining flush of his fever. His jaw is clenched so tight you swear it’ll stay locked like that forever. It’s really the only tell that he’s affected by the sight of you. The warmth dripping from his body is scorching. Tickling down your entire body, as he inches and inches closer it’s like molten lava clawing at your very flesh. But, there isn’t a single syllable you’re able to utter in response. You don’t know why you react this way when he’s close. You don’t know why you feel your heart slam against your ribcage when you make eye contact. You don’t know why you wish to map out the entirety of his back and use your hands as the ink that cascades down on paper. “I don’t know.” A simple, and blunt answer falling from your still parted lips.

“Well, figure it out, yeah?” Simon chuffs, before leaning back. The sudden loss of heat is what gets you, knees practically buckling from the cool air kissing at your skin. His eyes drift down, still glassy, and far - but, looking at you, nonetheless. “Si,” You utter, softly. It’s like the gods got tired of looking at the way you pathetically stare at him - deciding, hey, give this one a little push. He tenses, an almost growl as he glances down at you. Fuck, that nickname. “You’re right,” You murmured, feeding into his words, hand sinking back down against his hip, “Let me take care of you.”

It was like an apparition entered his fucking body. In seconds, hands your wrist, backing you up into the countertop. He falters for a moment, head dipping down to your shoulder - an almost soft inhale of the shampoo you use. The smell alone is practically creating a tent against his sweatpants. Finger curling against your wrists. You glance up at him, only seconds as you catch those dangerous honey-like irises inspecting you. Dilation. Quick to hike up his mask, he kisses you. It’s messy, desperate, and almost clumsy. Giving in, you part your lips - an immediate attack of his teeth drawing in your bottom lip, biting down with a force. Groaning into the kiss, he pushes his hips against yours - the cold granite of the countertop pressing into your lower back. A desperate, “Fuck..” as he flattens his tongue against your teeth. Being sick has obviously caused something in his brain to rewire, something to calm the constant ache in his head - or the warmth your body projects feels like healing.

His hands cascade up to your hips, a tight grip as he lifts you - almost effortlessly even in contrast to his sicken state. Almost delirious, setting you down on the bed - hands attacking the hem of your own sweatpants. “Lovie,” Simon exhales through a tight groan, fingers shimmying down the fabric to your ankles, “need this… ‘so fuckin bad.” Maybe it’s the cough medicine rewiring his brain, but he’s practically whimpering for your touch. You feed into his head, hand lazily dragging down the fabric of both his sweatpants, and boxers. Obviously, he’s not going to go for any sort of foreplay. He’s too fucked dumb, eyes desperately searching your gaze as you realize just how drunk he wants to get off of your pussy. His hand slides up to the valley between your breasts, pushing down until your back hits the soft plush of the mattress. “so ‘fuckin pretty.” A tightening of his hands against your hips. His eyes flick down, simply just staring at the state of that pretty fucking pussy. A bite to his bottom lip, before placing himself against you. Still watching you closely, he drags the crown of his cock up and down in slow lines - shuddering against the slickness that oats your entrance.

The sight continues to make him whine. He’s practically teasing himself at this point, only using your body as a means to soothe the sick ache in his head and push his cum so deep into your cunt that he’s the only thing you’ll think of for weeks. You stare up at him, hips circling slowly to further the teasing he plants upon himself. The hand not placed against his cock is quick to snap against your stomach, pushing down until you reside still on the bed. Oh. The crown of his cock latches against your entrance, a shudder from his flesh as he pushes his hips against yours. The motion is slow, sensual and you can practically feel the air leaving your body against the fit. Tight. “fuck, lovie.. ‘so good.. ‘so fuckin good..” Simon whines, his head tipping back from where he stands. The build up is astronomical, in and in, and.. In, until you almost can’t believe he’s not even halfway fucked into you. The tight fit sends electricity to every nerve in your body, gummy walls barely able to clamp together as they get filled. “Fuck, Si-” You choke out in hesitance, only for it to be met with another whine from his throat. Somewhere between a cry, and a whine, he lowers his torso down to meet yours - within seconds he’s buried fully inside of you.

He’s plunging into you like a man starved. Back, and forth - creating his own whimpers. He likes to drag it out, pulling his cock all the way out, leaving only the tip - stirring there for a moment until his own body constricts, and then slamming in as hard as possible. Hands vice gripped around your thighs, bringing you to and from him like a pocket pussy. “fuck, such a good girl.. Oh my god..” Simon whines, his face burying itself deep into your locks, inhaling deeply to consume every last fiber of your scent. Lazily gasping between every fluid motion of his hips, clumsiness peeking around the corners as he fucks into you. “oh, lovie.. jus’ what I need.. ‘so fuckin good.” He whines again, his hand curling into a fistful of your hair just to stop himself from jerking about. Simon constricts for a moment, pulling out, and then circling his tip at your entrance - his body twitches, and convulses as if overstimulating himself on purpose. Pussy sloppy around him, already drenching the area between you two - wet squishing noises as he drags back the mixture of pre and slick, just to bury it back inside of you. “sweet girl, oh fuck.. fuck..” He sputters out again, another whine into the crook of your neck as he clumsily slams his hips down against yours. What the fuck was in this cough medicine. Lifting himself up, a hand placed at the side of your head, fingers curling into the sheets. His eyes trail down to your connection, and now you’re painfully aware of just how pussydrunk he’s become. Bottom lip taken between his teeth, glossy eyes staring down at the sight of his cock sliding in and out. “Up.” He shudders out, his other hand slipping from the sheets and placing itself behind your lower back, holding you up against the edge of the bed. His knee sinks up onto the comforter, and now he’s plunging into you even deeper. Fucking the same spot, over and over again - abusing the gummy wall he seems to be intent on murdering. “sweet girl,” He practically wheezes, the reminiscent of his sore throat, “just like that ‘yeah.. milk my ‘fuckin cock.” You’re too busy blissfully indulging in the art piece in front of you. A man, who is usually cold and stoic, so pussy drunk he’s whining.

The feeling is quick, sweeping, and hits like a freight train. Your insides curl into a tight coil, and release like the snap of a rubber band. A simple, “S-Si!” Sputters from your mouth, earning a jagged groan from his throat. Simon’s fucking into you like an animal, rutting in and out to ride out the way you clamp down on him. Practically whining, and crying - every time he pulls out, it earns a quick, “Hnng-” from his tickled throat. “fuck, please.. right there, oh fuck, lovie..” He practically cries out, hips clumsily and weakly slipping against your wet meeting point. A continuation of the rutting, followed by a small cry of relief. He cums, and a lot. So hot and filling it practically burns. Simon continues his sloppy pushes in, and out - using the cum to push deeper, and deeper. He’s a writhing mess on top of you, his muscles twitching and contorting as he grinds out the sensitivity. “Ha- Ha.. fuck, lovie.” A quick sputtering, until his face is once again buried into your shoulder. Simon doesn’t bother pulling out, instead basking in the heat. Soft, and absentminded twitching of his tight muscles - whimpers still slipping from his mouth as he rests against you. Vulnerable.

“Ya’ tired?” You ask softly, eyes flicking down to see his head still buried in the depths of your hair. A few seconds of silence, before you’re met with a small hum of acknowledgement.

“Alright, big guy, let’s get you a nice shower, yeah?” You chide, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his jawline, fingers making their way down his spine - slight tickling of your nails against the aching muscles.

#↳ simon ༉‧₊˚✧#cod fanfic #simon ghost riley #smut #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader

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spitdrunken · 3 months

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i keep thinking about essentially being like. velvette's 'charity case' model and how your relationship develops from there.

notes: fem!reader, velvette calls you ugly LMAO, beyond that... no warnings, really. surprisingly the most healthy vee relationship ive written yet!

velvette's typical models all look similar, reminiscent of the modeling industry back when you were alive. tall, skinny and, more important than anything else, human-looking. most of them could pass for humans in a costume.

you… do not. you just didn't get quite that lucky with your demon form! really, you can say that the vast majority of people drew the short end of the stick, at least by the kind of standards that people like velvette set. maybe you're a bat, with a snout you've deemed as pig-like taking up most of your face. or a sheep, your single-slitted, dead eyes making even you uncomfortable. perhaps you're more formed after an object than what you would consider a person, or plant-like in nature! in any regards, due to the way lucifer chose to have you reborn you firmly do not fall within hell's beauty standards.

all of that means you were absolutely not expecting to be accepted when you went ahead and applied to a job with someone as famous and perfectionistic as velvette. it had started as a joke, really. you'd posted a purposefully horrible picture of yourself on vitter, with a stupid caption like; "do u think that :skull::heart: would kill me for submitting to open casting looking like this lmaooooo" (you have to use emojis to talk about the vees, as the socials owned by them are notorious for taking anything remotely negative down.)

and unexpectedly, your post randomly did some pretty big numbers, with people egging you on and some practically begging to tell you what kind of insults she would sling at your head. you saw some people copying your original as well.

so you're like! whatever!!! you don't think that you'd even get through the application process, much less velvette herself. nothing will end up happening, so, who cares? but then, somehow, despite everyone and their mom wanting to model for velvette, you get… through? and you even get an interview scheduled with velvette herself?

she takes one look at you as you walk in, and just goes: oh my god. this really is grim. and you're hardly seated, before she continues. look, i don't have the time for niceties, and introductions are entirely unnecessary. i'm sure you already know this, but you're not here because of your looks.

yeah. you figured that. …i guessed so. but i'm still sitting here. so, why?

instead of getting a real answer, you're shuffled off into a shoot, different outfits flashing on top of your body, faster than you blink, velvette's face settled into a scowl, till it suddenly lights up. it doesn't go… super well, you've never really done this and, if you had, velvette's attitude surely wouldn't help. you never really get clarity as to why you're being hired, when a contract is shoved in front of you.

(the reality of the situation is that velvette had seen you trending, not trending-trending, but still a noticable. she realised the demand for someone like you, a 'relatable' every-demon being thrust into this new world, and documenting it online. her company can claim they accept 'all kinds of demons', and some poor suckers will feel less excluded when looking at her fashion, buying it more quickly. win-win-win!)

she tells you to you're face that you're the ultimate challenge. if she can fix someone like you up to in a half-decent model, it just shows that she really is a fucking goddess. maybe you're not as pretty or as used to everything as the rest of the models, but that doesn't mean you don't put in any effort now that you're there. the other girls won't associate with you whatsoever, but you do listen in on their conversations, pretending to mess around on your phone, coming to know the kind of make-up velvette likes. you tirelessly browse online, mostly on vikvok and vitter, figuring out the current trends. and after a while, velvette takes a look at an outfit you picked, and actually says…

this is pretty decent. it won't look good on you, but i can use this. maybe, somewhere along the way, you become more of an assistant or outfit suggestor for velvette, only occasionally stopping in for shoots. velvette never accepted anyone in a similar position to you, even though vox tried her to get an assistant for ages, and she wouldn't have accepted you either if you'd obviously being vying for the position. but you weren't, and your position just kind of naturally developed that way.

your shtick as a 'charity case' has somewhat been abandoned, though velvette still dumps clothes in your arms sometimes and tells you to try them on. maybe you're one of the few people who gets her to laugh, and the only one who she freely bitches to about all of her models. (she does this to vox and valentino too, but it's not the same. they don't care as much, nor do they really know who she's talking about.) she lets you sort through some of the open casting applications and help pick out the theme for a shoot.

of course, absolutely everything you do has to go through velvette first, and she still criticizes you aplenty, but you can't help but feel she has grown… fond of you, in a sense? sometimes, you swear you see her wearing outfits you'd picked out for another model… and while she shittalks everything that moves, you just happened to listen in on her giving a model a tonguelashing for talking bad about you. either way, you've certainly come to like her a lot more. you're now even mutuals on vitter and vikvok! much to the delight of the tiny following you'd grown on there. she even posted a picture of the two of you on there! …that means you've really made it.

maybe at some point, when her company has hit a new milestone and, in a rare slip-up (or perhaps valentino gave her a super strong drink on purpose, thinking its funny) she gets pretty drunk. you end up sitting opposite of each other in a bar, with her having decided on the spot to put some make-up on you, leaning in close to check her work, fingers gliding slowly over your skin. a situation that feels entirely too intimate for this setting, not helped by the half-lidded look in your eyes. …i have changed my mind. she mumbles, slurring her words are little. you can look pretty, after all.

you sputter out a oh really, and you only realised that now?! in order to break the heaviness of the air, the unspoken tension that makes your heart skip a beat, and velvette laughs.

(maybe there's hope for the two of you yet.)

#hazbin hotel x reader #velvette x reader #hazbin hotel velvette x reader #hazbin hotel #velvette #cha.velvette

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frostfangalphabitch · 8 months

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The rest of the base has gone to sleep, but you don't sleep anymore. You don't join them in the mess hall anymore, either. You barely eat organic food at all these days, and when you do, it's mainly for pleasure. You can take the organics out of the pilot, but you can't take the love of sweets and pizza out of the organics, you guess. Despite that, you're so far removed from your humanity that it's gotten difficult to relate to most of them. It's not like anyone else is sharing your meals of titanium and copper.

The other pilots look at you with fear and disgust, knowing their inevitable fates if they're ever pitted against you. The mechanics see you as an oddity, a fascination, and heap praise and adoration upon you, but it's hollow in your eyes. It feels more like they're ogling a rare car rather than talking to a pilot. The corps see you as nothing more than a weapon to be pointed at their enemies, or whoever has less money than them that week.

The only person who still respects you as an autonomous individual is your handler. You adore her just as she loves you. Certainly, you're still a weapon - that's what the relationship started as after all - but you think she might be the only human in the base, including the mechanics, who could truly love a weapon of any kind. She's been so good to you through all of this, taking each stage of your radical transformation in stride as naturally as a lover watching her partner go through a more mundane transition. She's only gotten more attracted to you as you've grown into your new form and become more comfortable and confident with yourself. You'd burn the whole world down just to make her happy.

There's one other who respects you for who you are, though: your girl. Your beloved Wolfrun Mk.X, heart of Coral, veins of electricity, and arms of 5 ton power-guzzling metal-shredding AC-devouring WB-0010 Double Trouble carnage. Before all this started, you always thought of her like a weapon, just as the others see you now. Then she started changing you. The Coral in your augments connected with the Coral in her systems, and something changed in both of you. At first, it was just a whisper. Something brushing over your psyche, speaking just on the edge of hearing, incomprehensible but unmistakable.

Then your body started following suit. Your teeth, jaw, and digestive tract were the first things to change, presumably to allow you to consume and digest - you're not even sure if that's the correct term - the materials your girl needed to keep changing you. After your first meal, the tastiest 20 pounds of scrap you've ever eaten, your skin started changing too. The docs couldn't give you injections anymore. Their needles bent or broke when they tried to push them into your skin. You figured out why a few weeks later when what was left of your epidermis sloughed off and revealed armored plating underneath. They had to take an angle grinder to your arm in order to access your veins. You didn't feel any pain when they did. At the time, you thought that should have disturbed you a lot more than it did.

By that point, you'd been noticing Wolfrun's thoughts coming in a little clearer. In transit to your jobs, it was feelings of curiosity, probing, and wonder. In combat, it was a spark in your vision when you needed to dodge, a wordless warning about approaching enemies. In the base... still nothing but a whisper. That's when you started feeling lonely: when you couldn't feel her presence anymore.

As you became more and more monstrous, more and more like her, you began to visit her night after night. Maybe it was because you sensed an intelligence within her 65 ton body, or maybe it was simply because being near her drowned out the silence. You had no way of verifying this, but you felt like she relaxed as well when you were around. She was shut down in the hangar, of course, and there was no way any part of her could still be engaged, or so you thought. But as time went on, the whispers got louder, the words - feelings and thoughts, really - more comprehensible. And all the while, your body changed.

The 5'6" chubby trans gal who went into debt and subsequently under the knife to get a hand-me-down set of 4th gen augments all those years ago is long gone now. The thing you've become, whose claws clanged against the metal of the hangar's floor, had long since cast off that form. Where once was skin had become plated metal. Despite having no screws or rivets to speak of, it stayed firmly in place no matter how much the techs tried to pry it off. The augments which before had stuck partially out of the left side of your skull had seamlessly integrated themselves into the sleek plating that had cropped up on your head, looking far more natural than they ever had before. Your hair had fallen away, and the metal around your skull became angled and sleek, looking more bulwark than biological and with aerodynamic fins sprouting from it.

A sleek black plate had formed where your eyes once were. The day you woke up with that, you thought you had gone blind. You panicked, begging for help, afraid they wouldn't ever let you pilot her again. You had been moved into your new warehouse home at that point, and it took time for the maintenance techs to find you. Before they did, though, you felt someone - your girl, you realized - beckoning to you. She could help you. When the techs finally got there, you begged them to put you in her cockpit. It took them a while to figure out who you meant by "her", but your handler, who had come running the moment she heard the news, was on top of it. She barked at them to get you to Wolfrun, and with great difficulty, the three of them helped you get your then-8 foot form into her. You spent the next week inside her cockpit, refusing to get out except to eat and drink. She was there with you, and she let you see through her eyes. The world as she saw it was far more vivid than human eyes could ever see, infrared, ultraviolet, gamma, magnetic, smells, sounds, vibrations, on top of the visual spectrum you were used to. And when the delicate sensor plate where your eyes once were finally engaged at the end of that week, that's how you saw the world, too.

When you finally left her cockpit, you realized you could still hear her. From then on, she was with you always. That made you happy. It made her happy, too. You started letting her choose her own parts, and she was happy to. She still insisted you choose some too, though, since according to her, it was your body just as much as it was hers. True enough, whatever force was altering your body changed you to match her. When you tried out digitigrade legs, you stumbled getting out of bed the next morning after yours had reconfigured themselves to match. When you got her bulky, high capacity arms, your arms - fully synthetic by then - had bulked up considerably.

Even cosmetic changes started to affect you. You painted menacing, sharp teeth onto her head over the sensor plate with mechanical precision, and you found your own mouth elongating and becoming more of a muzzle as a result. You'd have thought being so malleable would have unsettled you, but you found you were more excited about the possibilities instead. It felt more like becoming who you were meant to be. Besides, it made wolfing down your metal meals easier. You figure intention, either yours or hers, or both, affected how you changed, but no one else had any satisfactory explanation for any of this. You'd stopped caring long ago in any case.

What you and Wolfrun ended up settling on for her, after earning a mountain of COAM for you and your handler with your unbeatable, utterly synchronized performance, was a mid-lightweight build focused on tearing apart the battlefield as quickly as possible with heavy machinery. What you became in response was anything but lightweight, at least compared to the humans around you. The finned bulwark and the black sensor on your head never really changed, but the rest of you seemed plenty mutable. Your arms grew long and powerful, your shoulders tipped with decorative spires. Your waist grew slender, tapering inorganically in nested panels to allow for plenty of articulation. Your torso got wider, too, though for whatever reason, the outline of breasts remained constant on your new chassis. You kept the digitigrade legs. Over time, hydraulic supports seemed to have formed on yours. The snout stayed, too. You were too proud of that paint job to ever take it off even with the changes to your own body. BECAUSE of the changes. You might be more machine than woman at this point, by you're still you, pride and all.

The techs estimate that only about 5% of your body is still organic. Probably most of your brain and maybe some other systems, plus a few symmetrical patches of skin. They suspect that you had either some kind of sympathetic Coral connection to your AC that rearranged your augments and allowed the changes to start, or that somehow repair nanites adapted to your form and began "fixing" you. In any case, they think the bulk of your changes are done with at this point. You're a little disappointed by that. Wolfrun likes the new you, though. She's happy for your connection and to be able to get even closer to you. Your handler appreciates your new form just as much. She doesn't even bat an eyelid when you tell her that you've been talking to Wolfrun. If anything, she seems a little sad that she can't talk to her directly. As for your relationship with your handler, you might be nearly twice her height, standing at a hulking 10 feet tall, but that doesn't stop her from loving you, or from jamming her fingers lovingly between your legs after missions.

But she's sleeping now. It's late, but you're still lonely. There's only one entity up at this time of night you'd care to talk to, so you climb the catwalks to meet her, claws clanging against the metal of the hangar. You smile your toothy, metal smile as she greets you, opening her cockpit so you can crawl inside and be one with her for a few more hours before your next mission.

#this one's probably too long to get attention #but it felt so good to write #armored core 6 #ac6 #mechaposting #mechposting #transhumanism #transformation #handler x pilot x AC

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wheeboo · 6 months

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10:18pm | hansol vernon chwe

SYNOPSIS. in which it's late at night and your boyfriend is walking you home. PAIRING. hansol vernon chwe x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, established relationship WARNINGS. one kiss, terms of endearment (babe) WORD COUNT. 962

notes: inspired from a tiktok i found but can't find anymore since i like too much shit lmao </3 but u might know what i'm referring to

"Nonie?"

...

"Vernon? Babe?"

...

"Hansol Vernon Chwe!"

"Huh? Yeah?" Vernon finally diverts his attention back to you, right after you lightly swatted at his arm. He takes out his earphones and peers in your direction, watching the way the gentle breeze in the air flies through your strands of hair and the way the dim, overhead streetlight accentuates the small pout to your face.

Your pout gives way to his attentive gaze at you, his eyes softening as he focuses on you completely.

"You were completely zoned out," You tease, voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid to disturb the peaceful atmosphere that's settled between you two at this hour. It isn't new where the two of you find yourselves trailing within the neighbourhood at night, especially since Vernon always insists on walking you home safe and soundly.

Vernon grins, his lips curling up in that familiar way that makes your heart skip a beat. "Sorry, just got lost in the music for a bit." He gestures to the phone in his hand, still softly playing the melody that had captured his attention.

You roll your eyes playfully. "Well, you missed the question I was trying to ask you."

Vernon's expression turns curious as he tilts his head slightly, adjusting his beanie. "What was it?"

He swears there's an almost-mischevious glint to your eyes that he pinpoints, or perhaps it was just the streetlight above that illuminated your face in a particular way. He purses his lips together with a patient look, waiting for you to ask the question you had been seemingly trying to ask him for the past few minutes.

"Do you think we're together in other universes too?"

Immediately, he feel his brows furrow together. Out of all questions, that question caught him by surprise, and he certainly wasn't prepared for it either. Vernon takes a moment to think, his gaze wandering briefly away and down the empty, quiet street you both are walking down together.

There's a faint smile to his face though𑁋he likes to think that yeah, in some way shape or form, you both are intertwined together too. He really likes that thought, to be honest. It's probably definitely entertained his mind a plentiful amount before, but it isn't until you mentioned it that it finally emerges out from deep within his thoughts. And knowing you're having those same kinds of thoughts makes his head spin.

"Like... you know those two cats that we sometimes pass by while walking?" You ask, kicking a branch down the pavement. "Maybe they're us, you know? Then in another universe, those cats are humans or aliens and we are the ones that they pass by."

And then your eyes glow even brighter before Vernon could even respond.

"Maybe! Maybe in a different universe... we're actually two rocks and we've been together for millions of years, slowly eroding side by side, getting rained and stepped on, but always touching in some way." Your thoughts are exploding with possibilities at this point, and Vernon takes it as an opportunity to admire the way your eyes seem to glisten as well, taking in every single one of your words amusedly. "Or maybe we're two trees who have grown together, and our branches are touching."

This makes Vernon direct his attention down to your hand, which is just inches away and barely grazing against his own, swinging slightly as you walk. Slowly, he takes your hand into his, and at first you don't seem to notice, but your fingers naturally lace together either way. It really gets his mind thinking about all the times he's thought about how your hands fit together almost too perfectly.

Maybe, in other universes, you both are meant to be connected in some way.

"You're really cute, you know that?" Vernon comments after you've ceased your rambling.

"That's what you're going to say after I've finally emptied out my brain? Confessed my undying love for you?" You huff annoyedly, but you don't let go of his hand, instead only tightening your grip on it.

"Well, I know that if you were a rock, you'd be a pretty one, like one of those you'd want to pick up as a lucky charm," he states. "and if you were a cat, you'd be these awfully clingy ones."

You gasp dramatically. "I am not clingy!"

Vernon just chuckles, bringing your interlocked hands up to eye level. "You're squeezing my hand really hard right now."

"That's because you're annoying," You quip, though your grip on his hand barely relents𑁋just enough to make sure you weren't stopping the blood flow through his arm. After a few moments of silence, your eyes catching sight on your house ahead, you bring yourself closer to him, knocking your shoulders together. "But... do you think we're together in other universes too?"

He doesn't give you an answer right away, only waiting until you open the front door to your house for him to land a quick, chaste kiss to your lips. It catches you off-guard, somehow leaving you utterly breathless even after you bid your goodnight, I love yous to each other, but it's enough to answer your question.

He hopes it does anyway. If it doesn't (or if it does, yet you're in need of constant reassurance), he wouldn't mind answering yes in other ways too.

Your lips still tingle with the feeling of his kiss as you close the door, a giddy smile playing on your face.

When Vernon walks back to his own home, he catches sight of the two cats you mentioned before watching him with their bright, curious eyes. One of the cats starts clawing at the other, pressing its body against the other playfully, much like the way you pressed your shoulder against his earlier.

A soft chuckle escapes his lips.

Yeah, he says to himself. Maybe those cats are us.

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @ylliris-hanniehae @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1

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sanjifucker42069 · 7 months

Text

Stuck - Zoro x Reader

Word Count: around 2700

Haha….I've never written Zoro. This will probably be a bit shit. Oh well. If you see a spelling/grammatical error, no you didn't. It's 2am lmao.

Warnings: NSFW MDNI, you get stuck in a wall, reader has a vagina. P in V baby, stuck in a wall, sorta dubcon, some light spanking, established relationship. My normal blend of Reader being a dipshit, (you're submissive tho this time so that's something).

Zoro was lost. Again. He didn't get it. Everyone was exploring some ruins they'd found. He'd seen you wandering off, claiming you had seen an animal they could catch and eat. It made no sense. You should be around here somewhere, right?

Wait, didn't he pass that column already? Fuck.

The swordsman roamed some more, finding himself at some minor ruined building. It was a wreck. Only two walls stood standing, with remains of a third smashed against them, debris strewn about. There was hardly anything left, nature having collected everything else. All he could see was the pale cream crumbling bricks, the dirt floor, tufts of grass, and the rear of a human, legs bent and hanging from a hole in the wall.

A human?

No. That was you.

Zoro would recognise that ass anywhere.

"Babe, any reason you're crawling through the dirt." You mumbled something unintelligible. "Wha?"

Zoro really had a way with words.

"I'm stuck." Your voice was louder this time.

Zoro laughed. "Stuck? How the fuck did you get stuck?"

"I tried chasing that stupid animal! I was gonna catch it, but…it dove through this hole. I was sure I'd fit!"

"You got tricked by some kinda fucked up squirrel?" Zoro was shamelessly staring at your ass, highly amused at your predicament.

“Will you shut the fuck up and help me out you asshole?” You snapped, trying desperately to pull yourself out.

Zoro felt his throat go dry. Your weak attempts at escape looked downright sinful from his view. He watched with rapt fascination as you bucked your hips, curving your back deliciously, the way your hips snapped forward and back, a desperate attempt to get free. All it did was jiggle your thick thighs and make your skirt flutter around your ass, the fabric rising and falling with your frantic attempts.

Fuck.

"Zoro?" Your voice pitched up, terrified he'd abandoned you. You tried to twist your position, all that did was flip your skirt up. A blush rose on your cheeks. You squirmed harder, trying to get the fabric to fall back down.

Fuck!

Zoro choked back a groan, eyes landing on your white panties. The chaste cut and untouched cotton somehow looked more lewd than possible. Zoro felt his brow tic as he took in how the fabric stretched deliciously over your ass. Your struggling shifted the garment, pulling it obscenely tight and digging into you. If he truly focused he swore he could see your folds, the thin fabric clinging to and highlighting the form below it. Were you trying to kill him?

"Zoro, you didn't leave did you? You motherfucker! When I get out of here I'm gonna kick your fucking ass so help me-"

Hands settled on your hips, thumbs digging into your hip bones deliciously. You froze deathly still. Terror plunged your heart into your stomach, the feeling of burning static clawing at your lungs. A low voice grumbled behind you, clicking his tongue.

“You’re being a brat for someone who can’t defend themselves. I’m right here.”

All at once the fear you felt subsided. You knew you would be safe. You breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Ah, my hero! Baby I knew you'd never leave m- whathehellareyoudoing?!"

The way you flipped your attitude brought a grin to the swordsman’s face. Zoro began trying to pull you out, his large hands branding fingerprints into your hips. He heaved, pulling you harshly. Ow! Fucking ape! He really couldn’t be more delicate with you, could he? You clenched your fists and braced yourself. Despite his tugging, there was no movement towards escape, just the feeling of you being slingshotted back and forth in the few centimetres of leeway you had.

The noises that tumbled out of the mouth were driving Zoro insane. You were whining and huffing, the protests sounding obscene out of context. Flailing, trying desperately to get purchase, your legs periodically kicking out, jutting with the escape attempts. Fuck, the way that you couldn’t even ground your feet, suspended in the air! As it was you were on your tiptoes, at such an angle where it was obvious they were barely skimming the hard earth below you.

Fuck.

Zoro was definitely hard now.

He felt disgusted with himself. It’d be so easy to just touch you. You couldn’t fight back, he could just take you. Shit, he could probably just slide straight in. Would you like it? Would you clench deliciously against him? What was wrong with him?

Zoro cleared his throat. “Hey.”

“Do you think I’m stuck here?”

“Nah.” He rasped out. “Nah, we’ll get you out. Wanna try something?”

The moss haired man didn’t wait for you to ask what, he trailed his hands to caress your thighs. He dipped his thumbs inwards, the digits dragging down your inner thigh with a featherlight touch. You immediately responded, thighs quivering beneath his touch. He heard you suck in a breath.

“Are you serious Zoro?! Now?” Your voice came out as a hiss. Zoro immediately felt himself grow defensive.

“If you were seeing what I was seeing, you’d want to too.”

Silence. Ugh, Zoro hated when it got awkward like this. He opened his mouth to apologise.

“Fine.”

What.

What did you mean ‘fine’? Zoro frowned. Could you be more vague? The swordsman became aware of his hands still clasped around your spread thighs, the way your skin had goosebumps. Interesting. When the silence showed no sign of being broken you groaned.

“Fine Zoro! I’m not gonna beg. Do what you want, just…” Your voice trailed off, hesitating on what to say. “Make it quick, and make it worth my while.”

That forced a light chuckle from Zoro. He resumed trailing his hands up and down your thighs, relishing in how you whimpered.

“I don’t think you’re in the position to be making demands, babe.”

Zoro was not a man for properness, or waiting, or being appropriate really. He tore your panties down your legs, letting them hang lewdly around your ankles. You squealed in surprise and embarrassment, snapping your legs shut and teetering from the lack of balance. The underwear fell to the ground, wet and ruined. You bobbed back and forth, a perverse see-saw. You felt mortified at the situation.

You squirmed, knees glued together and ankles flared apart. It was obvious you were trying to hide yourself. Zoro watched with amusement at how you clenched your asscheeks and tilted your hips down. It was, of course, hardly of any use. Your entire ass was completely on display, and Zoro was getting impatient at only being able to see half your puffy lips. He clamped his hands just above your knees, loving how you jumped at the feeling. He saw you clench.

Right.

Zoro pried your legs apart, perverse satisfaction flooding him as more and more of you became exposed. You rewarded him with a loud squeal, followed by a ramble of something. Zoro wasn’t really listening. No offence, but he had much more pressing things to attend to than your embarrassed whining. You were already slick with juices, glistening appetisingly. Your pussy was clenching around nothing, no doubt caused by your embarrassment and the cool air that hit it. Poor thing.

He could warm you up.

Zoro dragged a finger up your slit. You whined, shivering beneath him. He prodded and petted at you, grinning at the lewd noises that fell from your mouth. Sliding his fingers back up, he pulled back to one finger, sliding his first finger around your hole, picking up your essence and tickling you. Experimentally, he slipped a finger in. You cursed. He pulled out, immediately causing you to whine.

A smirk. Good.

Zoro wasted no time, plunging his two middle fingers into your pretty pussy. He knew you could take it. The squeal that rewarded him brought a smirk to his face. He quirked the fingers upwards, watching as your ass jiggled when you squirmed, a moan escaping. Zoro resumed his work, languidly rocking his large fingers in and out of you with one hand. With the other he harshly grabbed your asscheek, squeezing and groping it. Your symphony of sinful noises spurning him on. He kneaded the flesh, relishing as you squealed when he pulled at you, spreading you fully for him.

“Stop that!” You ordered weakly, trying to angle your hips away. Zoro laughed, the way you tried to sound intimidating was cute.

“Sounds like you still haven’t realised the problem you're in.” You could hear the smirk in your lover’s voice, causing you to bristle. Zoro removed the hand on your ass

“It’s embarrassing!”

Swat!

“Zoro what the fuck!? AH!”

Swat!

Your complaint pitched up into a surprised whine as he spanked you. Not too hard, he didn’t want to hurt you, just enough to get what he wanted. Zoro felt a bead of apprehension, technically he had never bought that up before. Did you hate it? Your body answered for you, Zoro’s eyes widening at how you lightly fucked yourself on his fingers, desperate for anything.

Oh.

Zoro rubbed at your ass, soothing where he’d swatted. With the hand that was pleasuring you, he snaked his large thumb up, prodding at your clit as a reward. You startled, gasping at the addition. He resumed pleasuring you, fingers pumping and thumb working circles into your nub, You whined and moaned, praises tumbling from your lips. Zoro’s fingers began to cause a squelching sound with their ministrations as you throbbed around him, the two of you both taken aback. Shit, you were really enjoying this. Zoro stilled, completely in awe.

“Z-Zoro? Come on! Do something! Anyth-”

Thwack!

“SHIT!”

The way you clenched around his fingers had him salivating. Shit, shit, he needed to be in you now. He removed his fingers from you. You whined at the loss, trying to chase him with your hips.

Zoro couldn't get his pants down quick enough, fingers clawing at the fabric like they were on fire. Worst still, you were whining in front of him, goading him into acting sloppier than he'd like to.

"Baby! Zoro!" No response, your cute act dropped. Zoro, meanwhile, had finally got his thick cock free, letting the garment pool at his feet. "C'mon dude that isn't cool! I am going to bite your arm off when I get outta he-"

Zoro rolled his eyes, hands back on your hips. You were so fucking overdramatic sometimes. The protests died out at his touch, bringing a grin to his face. You wiggled your hips, clearly having caught on.

Unfortunately, you really were mouthy.

"Oh shit! Did you…have you got your cock out? You gonna fuck me? Fuck yeah!"

Zoro groaned.

"I'm starting to wish I was on the other side, if just to shut you up."

"Hurry up and fuck me man!" Your offended gasp and annoyed bite managed to earn a small laugh. "I heard that chuckle, asshole! Made you laugh. Gotta fuck me now, pirate's law."

Swat!

A little spank, hardly any heat. You laughed. Zoro supposed he was glad you were enjoying this, shaking his head at your silliness. He lined himself up, dragging his cock down your slit to prepare himself, coating himself in your juices. You shivered.

"Ready."

Zoro didn't wait for you to say something absolutely stupid and ruin the vibe. He pushed in, relishing in how you stilled and sucked in a breath. You were left dizzy by both the pressure of the intrusion and the hot groan you heard from him. He stilled when he bottomed out, a deep grunt escaping. Zoro let you adjust, cringing at the feeling of you clenching and unclenching around him. That certainly couldn't have felt good for you. You moaned.

Huh.

Maybe it did.

"P-please move Zo."

Well, Zoro guess he always knew one way to make you quieter.

He began a slow pace, deep thrusts forcing your hips to slap against the sides of the hole you were stuck in. He tried to keep up the slow pace, really he did, but you were clenching around him so hard, he could hear you muttering curses, trying to push your hips back to set a faster pace.

Who was he to deny you?

"Tch. Brat. You're gonna have no one to blame but yourself if I hurt you." Zoro warned, a breathy laugh rewarding him.

"Yeah? I'm falling asleep over here. Speed it up sword-boy."

Zoro growled, setting a pace that made you see stars. You moaned, amusement audible. He grabbed at your ass roughly. With a bruising grip, he fucked into you hard and fast.

"Do you have to, hah, be so…hah…" Zoro groaned through breaths.

"Annoying?" You panted. "Only for you babe."

Zoro wanted you to crumble. He wanted you to feel as affected as he did. (You were just as affected, of course. You were just a little shit.) He began attacking your clit with one of his hands roughly, thumb massaging the bundle of nerves. The squeal of pleasure and surprise that rewarded him flooded his ego. You clenched down on him, constricting him.

"Fuck Zo! Shit! C'mon, please say you're close?" A grunt. "Fuck! Good! Can I cum? Wanna cum on your cock. Please baby!"

Your filthy whines spurned him to rut into you harder. You blanched, you didn't even think he could go harder. His movements on your clit became clumsy, clear he was caught up in his own pleasure. Oh, he was close. You knew his tells by now. So when you felt him lean forward, trying to get more skin against skin, you clenched. Hard. A fucked out grin stretched your cheeks at the curses you heard. Zoro swatted at your ass, harder than other attempts. Fucking bastard! You moaned at the pleasurable sting.

At once you felt the thumb back on your clit, still clumsy, but trying to pleasure you. Your legs shook. You were so close.

So close.

Zoro felt his balls become painfully tight.

So close.

"Be a good slut. Cum on my cock (name)."

You gasped at his vulgar request. Zoro wasn't one to use your name often, preferring nicknames or just 'babe'. The use of your name sent you wild. The tether snapping, white filling your vision.

Zoro felt you clamp down hard before you began spasming around him. He keened. Fuck. He hurtled over the edge, cumming deep into you. His hands must hurt you, the iron grip on your hips desperate. He felt his seed shoot from him, painting your walls. Like after an explosion his senses dampened. All he could hear was a high whine. Yours, he assumed. His senses were dull, pleasure overriding him. You were milking him for everything he had, the spasming pressure almost too much. Fuck.

The swordsman slumped forward,resting his chest against the wall above you. He greedily sucked in gasps, trying to get his breath back. Senses coming back, he could hear you panting, trying to regain your bearings.

A comfortable silence, save for your combined breaths, filled the area. Zoro cringed as he pulled his softened cock out of you, the drag overstimulating, and he heard you wince. He began redressing quickly, and within moments was decent.

You, on the other hand, were not. Cum was leaking out of your abused hole. Zoro wished he could take a picture, keep it with him forever. Instead, he tried to commit the view to memory. Fuck. That was hot.

"Can you let me out now."

Zoro groaned.

He took your fallen panties with one hand, and lightly lifted one of your feet with the other. Quietly he redressed you, feeling a perverted smirk as he pulled the underwear back over your ass, the cum sticking to the fabric. Eh, you could get clean when he got you out. Was definitely hot to see you, with his cum leaking out of you, so full that is was spilling out of the legholes of your underwear. If you weren't careful on the walk back it would gush down your thighs, obvious you were his.

Fuck.

Now was not the time. He pulled your skirt back down and took a step back.

Hmm.

"Zoro?"

"Yeah, hang on. Let me think. What if I try to just…punch a bigger hole in the wall?"

You sighed. You were going to die here.

#zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #one piece x reader #one piece smut #smut #lmAO ZORO IS SO HARD TO WRITE???#anyway...bone apple teeth

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kassiekole22 · 8 months

Note

Can you do a Syzoth/Reptile x reader, about him telling the reader about things they should know about him & his reptilian form before they date each other? Thank you!!!

Are You Sure?

Picture lightly edited by me.

Description: It takes all the courage in the world to tell Syzoth how you really feel about him. But Syzoth isn't so sure that you can handle a Zaterran as a lover. So he decides to tell you everything you need to know, before taking your relationship to the next level... Warnings: Fluff, Pining, A Small Bit Of NSFW. (For brief mention of breeding.) Word Count: 1.4k A/N: I am sooooo sorry this took so long for me to finish! I've been dealing with some health issues and other personal struggles recently so I've been having a hard time getting things done quickly. But I'm getting better so hopefully that will change soon. I want any other anons to know that I still fully intend on finishing your requests and to other readers, please don't let this discourage you from sending any requests. I love hearing all of your ideas! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this fic. 🖤 MasterList: 🖤 Kassie's Angels: @lorebite, @mornandil, @bihansthot, @katiralovely. (If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know in the comments! 🖤)

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I slumped down under a shady tree after practicing fighting for a solid two hours. Lord Liu Kang told me the monks would be harsh, but I never expected training to be just as hard as it was. So I sat — the back of my head hitting the bark of the tree as it fell back onto my shoulders — and I let out a tired sigh. My eyes began to fall shut but then the wrestling of tree branches jerked me right awake as I let out a startled gasp. I looked up to find the source of this sudden commotion only to see Syzoth — in his human form — staring down at me from a high branch with a cheeky smile stretching his lips.

"You scared me!" I laughed as I reached an arm up to swat at his feet, which hung down from the branch he sat on.

After responding with a huff of laughter, Syzoth jumped down beside me. He sat down on the ground so close to where I was that I subconsciously held my breath, now very weary of moving in his presence. But not from fear — because it was the closest I had ever been to Syzoth before. The soft touch of his skin touching mine when our elbows brushed together, being engulfed in a cloud of his natural scent, even being able to hear his breath was enough to get my heart beat racing. To say I liked the man was quite an understatement. In my eyes, he was beautiful; I just wish I knew how to tell him that.

"It's so nice out here," he breathed before letting out a relaxed sigh. "I could sit out here for hours."

"Yeah, me too." I agreed, looking in every direction but his. Of course, I wasn't subtle about it — despite trying to be — and he noticed instantly.

"Are you ok?" He asked as his tone dipped softer with more concern.

I simply nodded, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired."

I finally mustered up the strength to look back at him and make eye contact. But as soon as my eyes met those pale green ones, I could feel my cheeks burn with a sudden heat of desire. The expression that grew on his face was much like his tone moments ago: concerned and worried.

'Shit! He notices!'

"Are you alright, (Y/N)?" He asked while placing a hand gently on my own. The sudden contact did not help my rosy completion and I felt my skin burn even more.

I quickly pulled away and nodded my head, "Yes, yes — I'm fine." I assured him. "I just got too much sun today."

It was a good lie and I just prayed that Syzoth was as gullible as I had hoped. He did not answer me after that and for a good moment, peaceful silence had fallen over us and I was glad.

I took a deep breath to calm my nerves and finally felt myself relax again. Looking up at the sky, I noticed that not a single cloud covered it, allowing the sun to beam down upon us. The birds chirped happily and the butterflies fluttered in the air — watching them helped all of my stresses melt away and bring me to peace. It truly was a perfect day. I let my eyes flutter shut as a cool breeze blew passed us, and then I felt completely comfortable in my surroundings.

That was until Syzoth's voice broke the long-lasting silence...

"(Y/N)," His voice came out serious as he spoke. His sudden change in tone instantly caught my attention and I turned to face the man. "I have a question that I must ask—"

"Ok — what is it?"

"Do... Do you have feelings for me?" He asked hesitantly and almost... Shyly?

I froze as soon as the words came out of his mouth and I instantly felt my cheeks burn with intense embarrassment. The shock I felt was overwhelming and I had absolutely no idea how to respond. I just sat there, thinking deeply about a million things at once.

'Does he know? Am I really that obvious? There's no way! I mean, I've done so well to hide it!... Haven't I?

As humiliating as it was, I knew I couldn't keep the truth from him for any longer. So after heaving a deep sigh to gain just a little more confidence, I spoke my confession: "Yes, Syzoth — I do have feelings for you."

He stared at me with a blank and not so surprised expression for a moment. I felt as if I was under a burning spotlight while under his gaze. Finally — after a moment that felt like a lifetime — he let out a soft sigh. It didn't seem necessarily stressed or disappointed in anyway — it was just a normal huff of air.

"Are you sure? Because — as you know — I'm no ordinary individual. I'm not human like yo—"

"I don't care, Syzoth!" I cut him off as I raised my voice slightly. I didn't mean to come off aggressive in any way — I was just eager to tell him how I felt. I exhaled slowly and lowered my voice to a more calm pitch. "I like you for you; that stuff doesn't matter."

He looked at me for a moment, almost like he was reading over my words in his mind. Something told me by his expression that he did not believe me and would need further convincing. And unfortunately, I was right.

"No, (Y/N). You do not understand." He heaved a deep breath and shifted so he was facing me more before continuing, "There is still a lot about me that you do not know. Things you are not prepared for—"

"Well... Prepare me!" I basically demanded with an enthusiastic smile and he raised a brow at me for a moment. He seemed almost hesitant to let me into his world but eventually he did nod in agreement.

"Ok... For instance, our diet mainly consists of raw flesh of animals and humans. We can eat cooked foods but we don't prefer it." He paused for a moment to check my facial expression before continuing, "We shed our skin once a year. It's a very long and uncomfortable process and I will become very irritable at that time. I like warmth and do not do well in the cold — I can't handle it, in fact. I also have to keep my skin hydrated and... There's also mating season... Um..."

His eyes averted away from mine as he shifted uncomfortably on the ground while letting out a cough. I blushed at the thought of this "mating season" he mentioned, but tried my hardest to keep my composure for his and my sake.

"I may appear human sometimes, but do know that my reptilian nature still lingers within. Are you sure you want to engage in a romantic relationship with someone like myself?"

I smiled warmly at the man sitting before me and took his big hands in my own, massaging the backs of them with my thumbs to sooth him. It was obvious he was nervous and I didn't want him to be — he deserved to be comfortable with someone for once in his life and I was going to make sure that I was that person.

"Like I said before: I like you for you. And I would be more than happy to engage in a romantic relationship with you — that is, of course, if you want to engage in one with me?"

I gazed up at him through my lashes with hope blossoming in my heart for the first time that day. I felt his hands grow sweaty in my own and the look of concern on his face remained, causing a little bit of that hope to die off.

But then his worried expression melted away with a fond smile as his cheeks turned a faint tint of pink. He leaned forward and gently pressed his lips against mine — not necessarily molding them into a kiss, but just holding them there. So I decided to take charge of the situation and pressed mine into his in the way a kiss would be formed. And happily, he kissed back.

I knew that loving a Zaterran would be a challenge, but I wouldn't have it any other way. My heart longed for him and now that I had him, that's all that mattered to me. I had finally found the one for me and I knew I'd be happy as long as he was at my side — this I was sure of.

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#mortal kombat 1 #mk1 #mortal kombat reptile #mk reptile #reptile #reptile x reader #mortal kombat syzoth #mk syzoth #syzoth #syzoth x reader #KassieMortalKombatFanFics

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