#what if it feels unnatural to have someone help/urge them to be together | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

blues824 · 1 year

Text

Diasomnia Wakes Reader Up From a Sleeping Curse

Gender-neutral reader, Hurt/comfort. Poll Winner.

Malleus Draconia

When he saw his beloved Y/N lying in their bed, he could feel both sadness and anger bubbling up in him. Ace Trappola and Deuce Spade had made a mistake in Potionology, and you were still paying the consequences of their own actions. The dragon fae gently took off his gloves and placed his hand delicately on your cheek, flinching at how cold your skin was.

If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought you were dead. The thought sent a shiver down his spine. Your name and death did not belong in the same sentence, let alone together at all. No, you were merely asleep, and of that he was glad.

He knew the cure for the curse, and he was a bit happy that he knew of your feelings for him, but that didn’t particularly mean he was your true love. The fact that you two were courting didn’t mean anything in matters like this. However, there was no harm in trying to wake you up. So, the Crowned Prince of Briar Valley held your face gently as he leaned forward.

His lips gently brushed up against yours, staying there for a few seconds. He pulled back, and upon seeing that you hadn’t moved, his heart became very heavy. He turned away and started pulling his gloves on, when…

“Tsunotarou?”

Malleus had never turned around so quickly as he rushed back to your bedside. He helped you sit up, and his chest was pounding as you looked into his eyes. You reached your hand out and held the side of his face, and the fae prince moved his face to press a kiss to your palm. Oh, he had never been so relieved.

He quickly leaned forward and placed another kiss upon your lips, and he was so glad to feel you reciprocate the affection. The Diasomnia crew was waiting in the living room, and they all stood up when they saw their leader carrying you in a bridal carry, silently announcing that you were alright.

Don’t get him mistaken, though. He is definitely going to bring pain and suffering to Ace and Deuce for inflicting such a curse upon his beloved. If he could, they would probably be burnt to a crisp. But, he will inform the Headmage so that the troublesome duo can be punished properly.

Lilia Vanrouge

He was very amused to hear that his Y/N was put under a sleeping curse by the ADeuce duo. Oh, you could never stay away from those two, and it always led to you getting in trouble. No matter, as he loves playing the part of your knight in shining armor. However, as he gazed upon your sleeping figure, a grim atmosphere took place.

Your skin was cold to the touch, very unnatural for someone as lively as you usually were. It was a chill that he had known before, one that not even the coldest of winters could compare to. The freeze of death. It brought him only a little comfort to know that you were just asleep, a mock of death.

The two idiots who had put you under the curse had informed him of the cure, not that he needed it anyways because he already knew. What he didn’t know was if he was your true love, since he was certain that you were his. Lilia brushed some hair out of your face as he leaned forward.

As he held your face, he tried to feel if you went warm. However, when he pulled away from the kiss, there was no change. The fae’s heart was broken, and he worried that you would never wake up. As he walked to the door, he heard something.

“Darling?”

Mans just about ran back to your side, pressing kisses all over your face. Your skin had become warm, and the light in your eyes was back (albeit a bit dimmed). You took a bit of time to admire his mature form, as he didn’t have the energy to go back to the younger version of himself. His long hair was beautiful, and you ran your hand through it.

He urged you to stay in bed to recover some of your strength as he went down to the rest of the Diasomnia quartet to inform them that you were alright. Silver was glad that his ‘other parent’ (not official… yet) was alright, and even Sebek was relieved. Malleus was glad to hear that you would be recovering soon.

Oh, but what you or anyone else did not know was that as they were leaving you and Lilia behind at Ramshackle, the other three were going to fight Ace and Deuce in the most disrespectful way possible. I hope the boys like dirt, because they’re gonna be eating it soon.

Silver

He was just in a complete state of shock when Sebek informed him that Ace and Deuce had accidentally put you under a sleeping curse. As his fellow knight, the half-fae felt obligated to be the one to share the news. He promised to cover the young Vanrouge’s guard shift as he went to go see you and help with the cure.

The moment he entered your bedroom, he could feel the atmosphere was completely off. Where was your voice? Where was his hug as he entered the door? He placed the back of his hand upon your forehead, only to retract his arm after discovering you were cold.

One thing that Sebek made sure not to forget to tell Silver was that the only thing that could get you to wake up was a kiss of true love, and that scared him. One’s True Love is similar to a soulmate; one’s heart could not beat without the other. How was anyone sure that he was your true love?

Silver placed a gentle but fleeting kiss upon your lips, quickly pulling back to see if your eyes had opened, but nothing changed. The knight let two tears fall as he got up to leave. The moment where he placed his hand on the door handle, he heard you gasp.

“Love?”

Oh, the sweet sound of your voice was the one that he needed to hear at that moment. He was immediately back at your side as he grabbed your hand in his to place a kiss on your knuckle. Upon touching you, you were warm. He could physically feel his heart beating again in pure relief that 1) he was your confirmed true love and 2) you would be okay.

Unfortunately, all of this really took a lot out of him, so he laid next to you in the bed and held you close. This caused you to laugh, brushing some hair out of his face as you cuddled into him and placed a kiss on his lips this time.

You made sure to text Lilia that you were okay and awake, and that Silver was exhausted, so he would be staying at Ramshackle overnight. He finally looked at peace in his sleep, and you quickly took a picture as a keepsake. However, you weren’t going back to sleep yet. You just woke up, after all.

Sebek Zigvolt

He was in the Potionology class where you were put under the curse, and he was the one who lifted you up in a bridal carry and brought you back to Ramshackle so that you would be comfortable. The two imbeciles who caused this told him in the living room of the run-down dorm that the only known curse was a kiss of true love.

This caused a million thoughts to run through the half-fae’s head as he gazed upon your sleeping figure. Sure, the two of you were courting, but that didn’t mean he was your true love. He knew that you were his, because he placed you above Malleus in importance. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be here.

Sebek took his glove off as he walked over to your bed side. He grabbed the side of your face, and he didn’t like how cold you were. He took a deep breath, before committing. He leaned towards your face to place his lips onto yours. A stray tear he didn’t know was coming fell upon your cheek, making it look like it was you who was crying.

He felt as though you had every right. For everything you suffered through at the hands of Ace, Deuce, Grim, and Crowley, along with everyone else, he honestly wishes you would cry. Especially now, as there was no sign of you waking up. All his hope vanished as he got up to leave, when he heard you shift around in your bed.

“Sebek?”

The knight turned around to see that your eyes were open and looking at him as you tried to sit up. He rushed over to assist you, relieved that you were awake and alright. However, this made him realize something: he was your true love. He quickly placed a kiss upon your forehead, relishing in the warmth finally emitting from your skin.

As he helped you out of bed and with walking (a curse could leave you disoriented) downstairs, he made sure that at the bottom he gave the two idiots a piece of his mind. How dare they be so incompetent and not even apologize for making you go through that?

If you were being honest, the utmost care that the usually brash First Year was showing you as he gently sat you down at a nearby chair so that he could continue the argument made your heart melt. He was genuinely worried about you, and it definitely showed. You would think you were made of glass, but you were aware that it was his way of conveying his love for you.

6K notes · View notes

constantcrisis19 · 9 months

Text

Bleeding Out - Part 3

Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN S/O

Main Page

Warnings: Blood and injury, Needles, Violent thoughts, References to Ghost's backstory.

Ghost grit his teeth when you went limp against his back, his desperate grip on your thighs tightening in a way that would have been painful for you if you weren't currently conscious. He pushed into the medical tent like a man on a mission, ignoring the various moans and cries of suffering soldiers and shoving past anyone who didn’t get out of his way fast enough.

He gently lowered you down onto one of the open beds, your sweaty hair falling into your face as your head lolled to the side, Ghost reaching out in a brief moment of weakness to brush the limp lock of hair out of your face before turning his attention to the wound on your thigh.

The neck gaiter that he had tied in place over the injury was stained a deep red, the cloying scent of iron so thick that Ghost could practically taste it even through the thick fabric of his balaclava as he peeled the sticky soaked cloth away from the wound in order to get a look at the damage.

He felt grateful for his mask since he couldn’t help how his face twisted up into a snarl at the frankly obscene amount of blood that had oozed into your clothing, soaking your right side all the way down your pant leg to your boots, staining the material a deep crimson.

One of Ghost’s hands released his hold that he had on the cloth that he’d wrapped around your thigh in favor of grabbing the wrist of the person that had made the mistake of touching his arm, his grip so tight that he could feel the bones grind together under his fingers.

“Uh… sir? I’m here to help, what’s the situation?” A soft voice abruptly broke through the rush of blood ringing in Ghost’s ears and he was unceremoniously dragged from whatever haze he’d fallen into, causing him to violently snap back into focus.

He managed to pry his dark gaze away from your sallow figure, bringing his attention to the person who had been brave enough to approach him, the wide green eyes of a medic warily watching him as if he were a feral animal.

Ghost let go of the medic’s wrist as if the touch had burned him and he curled his fingers into a fist in order to hide the way that they wanted to tremble and, in an attempt to distract himself from the panic he could feel lingering on the edge of his awareness, he turned his attention back to the saturated fabric that was plastered to your leg.

“Deep laceration on upper left thigh from a bullet. They were conscious and verbal about two minutes ago before they began showing signs of hypovolemic shock and became unresponsive.” Ghost replied in rapid fire as he pressed down on the wound, continuing to apply steady pressure and trying to ignore how your unnatural lack of reaction to the painful contact made him want to hit something.

“Okay. Elevate their legs and keep applying direct pressure to the wound. We have a category one! I need a suture kit and an IV, stat!” The second half of the medic’s commands were directed to the rest of the staff that were bustling about the packed tent, more medics hurrying over with the necessary supplies, and it took every ounce of self control Ghost had to keep from taking a swing every time someone accidentally brushed up against him in their rush.

“Blood pressure is dropping, start them on two liters of LR.” The green eyed medic warned as someone set up an intravenous drip, pushing the needle into the tender skin of your right arm before taping the tube down to keep it in place.

More people joined the fray and Ghost viciously repressed the urge to bury one of his knives deep into the eye socket of the medic that bullied him out of the way since he knew that it wouldn’t do him any good in the long run, so he stepped away and allowed the other man to take over, the medic cutting your pant leg away from your thigh and pulling the unsalvageable neck gaiter away, letting it hit the floor with a wet sound before replacing it with a sterile pad of gauze.

Ghost just stood there and watched in complete silence as the medical team surrounding the cot all frantically tried to keep you alive, all their voices blurring together into a cacophony of indecipherable noise as the feeling of something wet dripping down his side distantly registered.

He looked down at himself and swallowed back bile at the sight that greeted him. The majority of Ghost's right side and thigh had been stained by your blood due to the fact that he’d carried you for so long, the thick red liquid marring his already filthy fatigues.

He numbly tracked a drop of crimson with his eyes as it slowly oozed down from his hip to his thigh before being soaked up by the fabric near his knee, the sensation of blood creeping down his leg making his skin crawl.

Ghost’s gaze snapped up from his soiled fatigues when someone came up next to him, his eyes darting over to the medic that had been brave enough to approach him, their hand hovering over his shoulder for a moment before thinking better of touching him and dropping their limb back to their side.

“We have the situation under control now, but we’re already running low on space so we need you to wait outside the tent, sir.” The medic spoke softly, the woman hovering in a way that spelled out her desire to usher him out of the medical tent, but he didn't move. Ghost’s feet were rooted to the spot, medics and patients alike all moving around his still figure as if he were a shark in the water.

“No.” Ghost declared bluntly as he turned his attention back to the crowd swarming the cot that you were laying on, noticing how the medic shot him a startled look out his peripheral vision, but he didn’t care. Let her judge him, let her question his intentions. Let her think what she wanted, but he wasn’t going to move until he got confirmation of either your recovery or your death.

And the poor soul who drew the short straw and was tasked to give Ghost the news better pray to whatever God that they believed in that it was the former.

“I’m sorry?” The medic asked, their incredulousness battling with their self-preservation in the face of Ghost’s blatant refusal to be separated from you. Ghost turned his head just enough to make eye contact with the medic standing next to him, the rest of his body eerily still in a way he knew other people found off-putting as he leveled the medic with his signature cold stare.

“I’m not leaving until they're either stable or dead.” Ghost declared, his tone leaving no room for argument, but the medic he was talking to was either an idiot or was unaware of Ghost’s reputation because she stubbornly persisted.

“But-” She began to say before Ghost unceremoniously cut her off.

“How’s their condition?" He asked, his voice low and rough. He could feel the cooling, sticky blood oozing between his gloved fingers as his hands clenched and released reflexively, his fingertips tingling as he wished for the familiar weight of his rifle.

“Uh, it's still too early to tell…” The medic began hesitantly before sighing, seeming to reluctantly accept the fact that Ghost wasn’t going to be leaving anytime soon. "But we're doing everything in our power to help." She told Ghost with a worried frown, her concerned gaze like a physical weight, her unwelcome sympathy causing Ghost to glance away before he did something that would make Price give him that disappointed look in order to wipe that fucking annoying look off the young woman’s face. "Do you know them? Are the two of you close?"

The question caught him off guard and helped clear some of the red from his vision, Ghost’s dark eyes shifting back over to the cot he had deposited you on as if magnetized, his gaze visibly softening from his usual blank stare when he caught a glimpse of your familiar figure in a gap between the medics swarming you.

Ghost watched as personnel read off stats from the various machines that you were hooked up to, each announcement so bogged down with medical jargon that Ghost could only pick up on a few terms here and there as they worked to keep the area around the wound clean as it was meticulously stitched shut.

"...yes." He admitted quietly and, while Ghost wasn't exactly thrilled with telling some random medic about his attachment to you -in fact, he would rather go through several hours of torture over voluntarily being emotionally vulnerable- it was a necessary risk he had to take if he wanted to appeal to the women's sentimental side and gain more leniency when it came to being kept in the loop about you during your stay in medical. “Are they…? Will they pull through?”

The medic opened her mouth to reply but was unceremoniously cut off when the people that were crowding around your cot burst into a flurry of movement, the medics shouting to each other as they all scrambled for medical supplies. And while it may have looked chaotic, it was clear that there was in fact a method to the madness.

"We have a shortage of A+ and O- reserves. We’re going to need to perform a direct donor-to-patient transfusion if we have a chance of bringing them out of critical condition." A random voice that Ghost didn’t recognize called out just loud enough to carry over to where he was standing, and Ghost's blood ran cold.

"What blood type are you?" The medic next to him suddenly asked, sounding equal parts frantic and determined, her tone pulling his dull eyes away from the medics crowding around the cot that you were laying on to her. Her eyes were wide as she stared expectantly up at him, Ghost eyes widening as he caught onto what she was implying.

"I’m A+." Ghost replied immediately, already rolling up his sleeves to reveal his pale skin, his body moving before his mind even caught up with what he was doing, his feet taking him toward you and subsequently all the medical personnel that were currently treating you.

"We have a compatible donor!" The medic trailing behind Ghost yelled to be heard over the commotion as she followed him, easily keeping up with the rapid pace he’d set. It didn’t take long for him to be surrounded, Ghost ignoring how each unsolicited touch reminded him of the smell of petrichor and rot, the telltale squirming of maggots against his skin, and instead stubbornly kept his gaze locked onto your sallow face now that he was close enough to see you.

"We're doing an emergency transfusion." A male said as he rushed over to the pair, giving the female medic at Ghost’s side a needle and a tube while another medic simultaneously rolled up his left sleeve and wrapped a tourniquet around his bicep before tapping his inner elbow with two fingers in order to find a vein.

“Sir, have you had any unprotected sex in the last six months? Or have any blood-transmitted diseases we need to know about?" The male asked as he wiped down a patch of skin before pushing the hollow needle into Ghost's vein, almost as if he already knew that Ghost was clean and was just asking because it was protocol… so it seemed that his reputation proceeded him.

"No. None." He replied, holding eerily still and watching with keen eyes as medics prepped the major arteries in your arm, connecting you up to Ghost on the other side of the tubing.

Ghost felt an odd tugging sensation in his arms as the transfusion began, glancing away from you for the first time since he’d walked over and down at the tubing just in time to see blood so dark that it almost looked black being pulled out of his veins and down the tube, lazily making its way towards your own arm.

"Here, take a seat." The female medic from earlier said as she reached for his arm, Ghost jerking away from the threat of her touch and causing her to pull her hand away, the woman intelligently choosing to instead gesture to the unoccupied chair at your bedside that someone had dragged over. "Let us know if you start to get dizzy or feel nauseous, alright?" She asked as he obediently sat down, her kind eyes a stark contrast to the usual distant and clinical gazes he'd get from most medical personnel who worked for the military.

Ghost gave her a single, succinct nod in lieu of a verbal reply and turned his attention back to the blood that was traveling through the tubing, his free hand loosely wrapping around the arm of the plastic chair that he’d claimed.

“The blood is dark.” He said suddenly as she began to step away, halting her in her tracks before she once again turned to face him, what was originally meant to be a question coming out more like a statement because of the cold numbness that was spreading from his chest and Ghost fingers subconsciously tightened on the unforgiving arm of the chair, his grip now more of an attempt at grounding himself than anything else.

When Ghost managed to pry his gaze away from you, he noted that the medic looked surprised, the shock only lasting a few seconds before she seemed to some conclusion or another and her features softened into sympathy and understanding. She clasped her hands in front of her and gave him a soft, reassuring smile as she patiently explained the phenomenon to him.

"Oh. It's perfectly safe. What you're most likely used to seeing is the bright red blood, yes?" She asked and Ghost was begrudgingly impressed with her ability to maintain steady eye contact with him when there were even some higher ups that he’d had the displeasure of meeting who couldn’t say the same.

He didn’t look away as he nodded, confirming what she’d already suspected and she shot him another gentle smile before continuing. "It's just a chemical reaction with the oxygen in the air that makes it that color but, while it's in your veins, it's actually much darker."

Ghost is the one to break eye contact first, unable to keep looking at her kindhearted expression without wanting to scream at the woman that he doesn’t want her compassion, that she shouldn't waste such a useless emotion on someone like him, who didn't want or need it.

He nodded to make sure that she knew that he’d been paying attention and turned his attention back to you, his hands clenching as he resisted the urge to reach out and take your limp wrist into his own, to measure each sluggish beat of your heart from the source despite the slow beep of the machine next to him.

“Give it to me straight. I want to know if they’ll live.” Ghost said suddenly into the silence that had descended over the two of them and the medic took a deep breath, her lips thinning into a thin line.

"Well, due to your help, they’re odds have just gone up exponentially. They'll probably need a few transfusions though, and you'll need breaks between every one in order to eat, drink and replenish your strength. It's not going to be pleasant for you, but it's doable." She stated softly, her hands unclasping as she paused for a moment in order to seemingly think something over before voicing her thoughts. "Though, you're free to stop giving blood anytime you'd like, I'm just saying there's a better chance that they'll pull through if you do multiple sessions."

“I’ll give whatever it takes.” He admitted quietly, his tone determined and reverent in equal measure as he gave in to the impulse to reach out and lightly brush his calloused fingers over the thin, sensitive skin of your wrist, sliding up your arm to the joint of your elbow where the tubing was taped down before just resting there.

He could never tell the medic the truth about how far he was willing to go for you no matter how nice she seemed because the level of devotion he held for you was something that would scare off any normal person.

He would most likely be stripped of his rank, discharged, and locked up in a padded room with white walls before being drugged up to his eyeballs if he ever confessed to how deep his obsession with you runs.

He would do anything to make sure that you would stay with him. He would destroy cities, tear down governments, kill anyone who got in his way without a second's hesitation.

He would go to the ends of the world to bring you back, so giving you his blood, that he’d already spilled several pints of over the years -enough for him to be dead ten times over- for a violent cause that wasn’t even his, was nothing compared to the atrocities that he’d be willing to commit for you.

183 notes · View notes

niceboyeds · 1 year

Text

surprise (e.m)

Eddie Munson x reader

summary: Eddie tries to pry out some information you've been hiding from him, but he makes up for all of the years you've missed out on something very important.

contains: very brief mentions of family trauma, comfort, fluff, poorly edited

word count: 1.9K

a/n: AAAHHH I finally wrote something again after over a month of not having any motivation or desire to do so. i didn't edit it and i have no idea if its any good but i missed my Eddie-time and i’m very happy to have it back.

--------------

“Eds! have you seen my earrings? the black studs-” you find your boyfriend flipping through the notes you have scattered on your desk. seeming to be searching for something, though you’re not sure what for. “need help looking for something?”

he drops a small journal, startled, and it lands on the desk with a thud. “I uh… I was just looking for…” his eyes wander and continue to browse the messy space. “ah, for this pen!”

“uh huh... right. because you weren’t just reading through my planner, clearly snooping?” you smirk, knowing he’s trying to cover his tracks but you still don’t know what he could be looking for.

“okay, you caught me. I might’ve been snooping a teeny bit, but I have my reasons.” he holds his hands up, sighing as he talks with defeat.

“care to elaborate on that?” you walk over to your dresser, finally spotting the black stud earrings you were looking for minutes ago. you begin putting them in while nodding in his direction, urging him to explain himself.

“well, we’ve been together for almost a year now…” you nod, knowing this isn’t new information. “and it’s just, you threw me that amazing birthday party a few months ago. but it made me realize you never told me when your birthday was.”

“so you were looking for what, exactly?” perhaps you can still squeeze past this without confessing something you’d been avoiding for the entirety of your relationship.

“I don’t know, something that would tell me your birthday I guess. m’sorry for snooping.”

“why didn’t just you ask me?” you feel your chest get heavy, your heart dropping into your stomach making you feel a little nauseous.

you had been avoiding this, but you knew you couldn’t do it forever. it’s not necessarily that you didn’t want to celebrate your birthday, you just didn’t know how- it was something unnatural to you. and how embarrassing would it be to explain that to someone? even to Eddie.

“that’s the thing! I remember asking several times, but somehow you’d change the subject or distract me, then I guess i’d forget.” he’s trying to meet your eyes, you know he is. but you do everything you can to avoid his gaze.

turning to face the mirror leaning against your bedroom wall while you check over your outfit of the evening, smoothing over the corroded coffin tee you stole that melted Eddie’s heart the first time you wore it.

“we don’t want to be late, Gareth will have a fit if you aren’t there on time again.” you sigh and turn to grab your purse, bumping into him. when had he walked over to you?

“baby. when’s your birthday?”

you simply grab his hand and lead him out of your small apartment, snatching his van keys on the way. you both climb into the messy van, something you’ve grown to love despite the trash scattered on the floor and the old water bottles in the cup holders.

you know he won’t let it die this time, you’ll have to tell him. why did you think you could continue on with never telling him your fucking birthday of all things?

his eyes are burning into your head while he drives to the Hide Out. your gaze locked on the road ahead until you turn to face him.

it’s no use in avoiding it any longer. he’s just as stubborn as you, he’d pester you relentlessly about it and hiding it now will only raise concerns.

you say it with a sigh, turning back to look out the windshield. he repeats the date, trying to confirm it and you nod in response.

“we started dating a few months before your birthday.”

“and?” the nauseous feeling seems to be growing while he pokes around for more answers.

“why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve thrown you the best party!!” you wince at his words, “what was that?”

“what?” this is becoming embarrassing.

“you know what! you’re hiding something from me!” he’s getting worked up now, his voice becoming almost whiney and louder. this is the last thing you wanted to happen. after parking in front of the bar he immediately turns off the van and turns to face you completely.

“what’s wrong with wanting to throw you a birthday party? why are you being so weird about it??” that kind of stung, you were being avoidant but weird? was it really that odd to not celebrate yourself after all these years?

“i’ve never had one, okay?” you snap, not meaning to come across as harsh in the slightest but you can’t help but feel bitter about your childhood.

“never had what?”

“a birthday party.”

“like as an adult? sure, lots of people don’t really have parties as an adult but we’re still young. there’s no reason not to—.” he’s rambling a bit, so you cut him off.

“no, Eddie. I’ve never had one. ever.”

sure the conversations of both of your childhood traumas have come up in the almost year you’ve been together. like how his uncle raised him and his dad was in jail. and how you didn’t get along with any of your family members which was ultimately the reason you moved far away until you stumbled along Hawkins.

but for some reason this bit of information always hurt you the most. growing up and never being celebrated. clearly something silly to be upset about which is naturally why you shoved it deep down and locked it away.

“why? did you not want one or something?” his questions never seem to end.

“no, I believe the words my parents used were ‘you don’t deserve to be celebrated’ or something like that. after a while I just stopped asking.” the words coming out in a rude and bitter tone. you’re not mad at him, but the feelings you repressed for so long are starting to come out, and you don’t like it at all.

the two of you sit in silence for a minute before he decides to talk again. his voice is soft, sincere, and full of pity. “baby, I—”

“it’s fine, really. let’s get inside. don’t need anyone coming out here to get you.” you turn your head to wipe the single tear you let slip out and open the door to hop out of the van. he meets you at the back, where you wait to help unload the band’s equipment.

he doesn’t open the doors like he normally does. and he doesn’t have the giddy pep in his step that he does before a gig. he looks upset and you feed off of his energy.

his arms wrap around you, one hand cradling your head, and he holds tightly you for a minute. “i’m so sorry baby, you do deserve to be celebrated. you deserve the world.”

you can’t help it anymore, softly crying into his shirt as he rubs your back. you are not a crier, at least around others, you hate being emotional and vulnerable.

after another minute and you calm down, you pull away from your sweet boyfriend who tries his best to give you a smile.

“ew,” you chuckle, sniffling one last time and wiping your tears. “that was embarrassing.”

“nothing embarrassing, doll. people have emotions, you are allowed to feel them.”

“your shirt’s all wet now.”

“that’s your take away from this?” he can’t help but laugh a little, lightening the mood and making you feel better quickly.

you smile at him and he gives you a quick peck on the lips before finally opening the back door of the van. the conversation never being brought back up, and you were beyond thankful for that.

~~~~~~

you knew he was planning something for your birthday, it was obvious despite his efforts to keep it a surprise. you didn’t want to ruin his fun though, so you always played it off whenever something would slip.

this year’s birthday will be the first one that you’ll be celebrating. it’s weird to think about, but you’d be lying if you hadn’t been secretly excited about it all month.

the day before your birthday rolls around and Eddie “randomly” suggests taking a drive. it was almost like he was trying too hard to keep whatever it was he had planned for tomorrow a secret, and it gave you endless butterflies.

you figured he wrangled the kids into decorating the new apartment the two of you got together before the start of the new year, maybe he wanted to surprise you right at midnight. whatever the case, you played his little game and did so willingly.

the drive was fairly short as he pulled into a random restaurant in town and said “actually I’m kinda hungry” before jumping out and going around to open your door for you.

“someone’s being extremely chivalrous tonight.” you giggle as he holds out his hand to help you hop out of the van.

“oh, am I not always chivalrous?”

“do you really want me to answer that?” you tease him as he wraps an arm around your torso, leading you inside.

he walks to the hostess stand and speaks to her, but you can’t hear what he’s saying, she nods and asks you two to follow her. she leads you through the maze of the dining tables and towards a back room.

“this is fancy.” you whisper to him, holding his hand a little nervously. you weren’t exactly wearing something that one might deem appropriate for the setting you were now in. “we’re underdressed for this place.” he simply squeezes your hand, silently trying to tell you not to worry about it.

“alright, here you are. enjoy.” the hostess smiles. a rather weird smile that makes you curious, still clutching Eddie’s hand in yours tightly. she moves out of the way and you see she led you into what appears to be a private room.

maybe she put you back here to hide you away from all the expensive looking people.

following him through the door, you enter a dark room. you’re very confused but before you can ask him what’s going on the lights flick on and the sight in front of you brings tears to your eyes.

“surprise!!”

every single member of your friend group is there, gathered into the room filled with decorations and their smiles.

“happy birthday, baby.” Eddie whispers into your ear while you softly cry into his embrace, hugging him and feeling endless love.

once you pull away from him, you look at his face and see pure happiness. he’s proud of himself for pulling this off, planning it the night before your actual birthday was the perfect way to make sure you were surprised.

you definitely were. and a bit overwhelmed, but in a good way.

“thanks you guys.” you sniffle, wiping the tears away from your face and mumbling an “ew” which makes Eddie roll his eyes with a smile.

you noticed the table had quite an array of cakes and you looked at it confused, why was it necessary to have so many?

“one for each year, we gotta celebrate them all.” Eddie finds you again, wrapping his arms around your waist from the back and pulling you against his chest.

“what is happening to me.” you groan, covering your wet face with your hands.

“can we get this party started or are you gonna keep crying over there?” Erica pipes up, making you laugh but earning a nudge and scolding look from Lucas.

“whaddya say, baby? shall we get this party started?” Eddie whispers in your ear, and you realize in that moment just how truly luck you are to be his. unconditionally loved and celebrated.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #stranger things x reader

250 notes · View notes

renee-writer · 3 months

Text

The Changeling Chapter 2

AO3

She falls asleep by the fire, leaning against the strength of her husband. She wakes with a start at the feeling of the wee one’s mouth on her nipple. She had bundled him, against her bare skin, to give him more warmth.

“Oh Lord. I am so glad you are hungry but you won’t get any milk from there, I am afraid.”

Jamie sits up straighter. He had been dozing himself. “What?”

“He lives and is hungry.” He looks, seeing the lad, frowning in concentration as he tries to nurse. A wave of compassion rushes over him.

“Poor lad. He needs a wet nurse.”

“Yes. Someone who can be trusted.”

“I shall ask Mrs. Fitz. She will know of someone. Will fetch some goat’s milk in the meantime.”

She nods. He rises, stretching the tightness out of his body that came with seating all night by the fireplace.

“Hurry back.”

“Aye.”

She gently disengages his mouth from her nipple. He lets out a small cry. “I know. I am sorry. We are going to get you some milk, I promise. My little fighter. Let’s see how you are doing.” Unbundling him, she listens to his chest. The crackling sound is less. She gives him more ginger tea. He swallows eagerly before letting another cry out.

“Not enough, eye. I know.”

“Jamie lad, you and your lady missed breakfast. I can probably round you up something.” Mrs. Fitz greets him.

“I appreciate it,” he leads her away from the others, “I also need a wet nurse, one that can keep quiet.”

Now Mrs. Fitz has heard a lot. Many confessions of unintentional pregnancies, whispers of unnatural urges, and much more. But this. “Jamie, what are you going on about?”

He sighs and explains. After, she nods her head. “Can you help?”

“Aye, I know just the lass. Will gather some warm goat’s milk until she can be fetched.”

“Thank you.”

“I ken Claire is a fine healer with a touch straight from the Divine Himself. But…”

“I know. She is stubborn. The lad though, he is strong, a fighter. I cannot fault her for gifting him with a chance.”

“Nor can I Jamie. He will live, most likely. What then? Will you keep him?”

That was a good question. Should they try to find his parents, they who believed they were doing the best for him? Or, take him as theirs, raise him.

“Let us see him bawl then we will decide.”

“Aye.”

He returns to her with a tray of food for them and a bottle of warm milk for him. Mrs. Fitz placed a cloth teat on it so he could suck the milk through it.

“Perfect!” she exclaims at seeing it. She places it on his lips. When he tastes the warm milk, he starts to eagerly suckle.

He tells her all she has said.

“It is a good question. I have given it some thought,” She looks down at the baby. Confession time, “Maybe we should keep him. I don’t know that I can give you a child. My husband and I, we tried. I never conceived, not once. I don’t know that I can.”

He lifts her head with his finger. “I have seen the pain of childbirth. My dear mam died in child bed. I can bare pain myself but, I am not sure I can bare yours. If God has made you sterile, in His wisdom, then we will handle it together. Starting with seeing to William here.”

“William?” she is grinning.

“After my brother. He died of the pox when I was six. You don’t mind?”

“No. William he is. William Henry, after my father?”

“Aye,” He touches the lad’s soft dark hair, “Drink up, William Henry Fraser, get bawl.”

#my writing #outlander fanfic #the changeling #chapter 2 #jamie and claire #outlander fandom #cannon divergence

3 notes · View notes

artsy-hobbitses · 10 months

Note

when sideswipe heard Sunstreaker say “thankful” and “ungrateful” during their argument… how did he react. Did he full silence in shock and hurt that slowly morphed to visibly being upset and that triggers him to finally take Sunny down.

At the point where Sunny blurts that out, I figure they’re already sort of grappling with each other after a shoving and yelling match escalated when Sides demanded that Sunny come clean about what happened and Sunny refuses/tries to talk Sides out off doing that himself, and it’s definitely not playful/gamely as they tend to do, but there’s still a sense that Sunny is trying to establish dominance as he usually does in these sort of ‘jousts’, big brother-style, and Sides is more on the defensive—they’re basically going at it like stags.

Sides has never told Sunny about his blowout with their parents which lead him to move out at 16 (the one where they told him they wish they never had him after he finally had the courage to call them out on the way they treated him, tell them how all he ever wanted for them to love him the same way they did his brother, who he literally shared a womb with—and demand to know what else could he possibly do to be good enough to be seen as a son and not a burden in their eyes)

So he’s been carrying this festering hurt since, but Jazz—who he looked up to and helped him during that time—does know a bit about it and told him that there were people out there who were going to love him for who he was, and not move the goalposts to earn it or have him break his back bending over to accommodate them, because he deserved better than that.

Sunstreaker, for a long while, was someone he thought was among those people, but the moment Sunny unthinkingly repeats that important component of their parents’ verbal abuse of him at him verbatim, it opens up that wound he’s never shared with Sunny (He wasn’t wanted, he was never wanted, their parents wished he never existed — he’s carried with this sense of worthlessness throughout his life which he effectively hides under a devil-may-care attitude, and he wants to carry that moment to the grave) and he’s the one now on the offensive, and his punches are landing for real. Straight up wreckingball haymakers.

Just completely fucking floors Sunny for the first time in his life (500-1) and asks Sunny (who’s very dazed at the moment) straight up, inches away from his face, if he realizes who the hell he sounds like.

Takes Sunny a few seconds for the anvil to land as he pieces together the possible reasons for this very unusual display of true fury from Sides, and to Sunny’s credit he immediately tries to backpedal his words.

But the damage is done and Sides (whose momentary fury has now died down this quiet despondence that makes Sunny wish he was yelling, please for the love of god yell at him because it would feel less like a gut punch) tells Sunny that he not here change the way Sunny views their brotherhood, but if his blind obedience was the toll Sunny expects him to pay to earn it, then he’ll be the ingrate Sunny thinks he is, because he’s vouched for you so many times but nothing, nothing can justify the amount of hurt you’ve unleashed on people who trusted us—there was a literal kid on base, did you even think about that? (This is why Prowl is SO FUCKING MAD at Sunny—at the point this happened, Springer is still growing/a kid, circa 14 years of age in their growth spurt, and it’s their first harsh lesson in the dangers the Autobots face because green bean child has never been off-base, and it’s Prowl’s first taste of Legitimate Fear/Anguish when he thinks Springer’s been crushed to death trying to save Dakshi—Kup’s dog—but it becomes a moment of revelation on Springer’s unnatural strength/durability).

Sides makes it clear that of Sunny doesn’t tell them, he will—someone has to—but he urges Sunny to please, please own up to this because enough people have suffered directly and indirectly from it, and whatever fallout comes from this, he’ll still be here for Sunny, as he always has.

We all know Sunny’s going through a major crisis of self at this point and takes what he himself will always say was the ‘coward’s way out’, which emotionally wrecks Sides to a point he’s never been at in years.

#inbox #save for later

15 notes · View notes

plangentlyre · 10 months

Text

There must be something wrong, Saki thinks as she flips through the pages of her dream journal, something dreadfully wrong going on. Her gaze flits through the glittery scribbles of her pen, her finger tracing the same words that she had written on every single night she recorded.

I saw a girl in white, trapped in the waters. She looked sad, I wish I could help her.

Ever since Leo/Need's last gig two weeks ago, strange dreams have been plaguing her mind. It had begun subtle at first with only the unnatural colors of what seems like the sea dragging her subconscious into its depths but when one week of restless sleep became two, Saki had procured a journal detailing her dreams.

Now, as she sits barely awake in her room, that quiet feeling of suspicion grows to worry. Before, the dreams were mere hazy mixtures of confusion. Recently however, she begins to see a girl's figure floating along with her in the waters.

Saki has never seen her face since her vision always blur when she tries, but something in her heart tells her that she's sad, sorrowful. She picks up her pen and writes,

It's the sound of her voice that I hear. Every time I get closer to her, she sings so mournfully. I wish there was something I could do...

She's aware that it is an odd thing for her to be concerned of someone that only exists in her mind, even more so when it's been disturbing her real life activities.

And her band... Saki chews her lips, she mustn't let everyone's efforts go to waste all because of her inability to sleep normally. Ichika has already started to take notice and if not for her consideration, Saki would've been forced to take a rest while they practice. Not to mention how everyone else might react when she tells them.

She clenches her hand. No, no... I shouldn't burden them so much, that's why...

"Saki-chan?"

Saki stills, snapping her head towards the door where she sees Honami standing there. She's wearing her casual clothes with her hair tied up in a bun meanwhile, Saki is still in her uniform.

Colorful, virtual triangles flutter along in the School Sekai as Honami carefully places her bag down on the nearest desk. She pulls out a bag of what seems to be full of snacks before walking towards her near the keyboard.

Instantly, Saki's eyes sparkle. "Oh, Hona-chan! Thank you so much!"

Honami giggles, "I thought you might be hungry, I'm glad you like it."

"Well~ You don't really have to. I bought some of my own anyway!" She gestures over to the piles of wrappers overflowing in her bag.

"Saki-chan..." Her stare softens, "I've heard from Shiho-chan and Ichika-chan that you've seemed really tired even now that you're still practicing. I was wondering, if you're alright?"

Saki visibly deflates. "Um, well..."

"You don't have to force yourself to say it if you don't want to." She grabs her hand, squeezing it comfortingly. "I'll be here every step of the way."

Her heart thumps. She knows she can't hide anything around her dearest friend especially when Honami cares for her so much.

"Hona-chan, the thing is..." Saki mumbles, restraining herself of the urge to tear up. "I-I haven't been sleeping well and it's, it's..." She trails off, still unsure of whether telling her the truth would be of consequence.

As expected, Honami takes lightly to her vague response. "Is that so? Would you like me to help you calm down?"

"R-Really?!"

"Mhm! Then..."

When the pair exited the Sekai, Saki unexpectedly realizes that Honami has come to visit her home despite the sun having already set. This is because immediately after she returns to her room, her brother has called out to her about Honami's arrival.

Her friend chuckles at her astonished expression. "If you don't mind, shall we have a sleepover together? Ichika-chan and Shiho-chan are already on their way. We thought you'd need the company."

Tears begin to shimmer on Saki's eyes, overwhelmed by the feelings of her childhood friends' thoughtfulness. Seriously, these guys are so... Ah, I love them so much.

Fortunately, for the first time since her last dream, Saki is surrounded by the fluffy feeling of Honami's firm and strong arms enveloping her body on the bed. There was none of the cold dread suffocating her under the invisible sea's depths nor the persistent worry over a figment of her imagination. At the moment, all that she feels is comfort.

She sighs, burying herself deeper in the cushions as Honami asks, "I heard that songs can easily soothe you away from nightmares. Maybe I can—"

"Yes, yes! Please sing me a song, Hona-chan!"

"Ehehe~" She flushes happily. "In that case... ♪~"

Honami's voice has always been a breathtakingly beautiful sound to hear and it merely takes Saki a few notes for her to succumb to slumber. For a while, the world is only empty with only the lullaby resounding in her mind and for a little while, Saki hopes for it to remain that way.

But then, the lullaby blurs and suddenly she's drowning. That dreaded dream is starting to resurface. Bubbles flow out of her mouth as Saki is stricken with panic when she becomes aware of the water rapidly rolling in her lungs.

Just as she is about to exhaust herself and lose any shred hope of surviving, a piece of white fabric floats above her face. Saki thinks it's a ray of light piercing her from the surface but when a pair of arms approach to hug her, she realizes that it is the girl from her dreams in front of her.

Before, the girl's face has remained unknown but now as the two of them sink further down the sea, forehead to forehead, Saki can now clearly examine her features.

A full face, soft cheeks, closed eyelids, a supposedly tranquil expression and yet her eyebrows furrow, her lips curl into a grimace, her skin wrinkles. It is as she expected, the girl is still sad.

At the back of her mind, Saki half-expected for the lullaby to disappear but instead, the song only loudens as the girl's mouth syncs along with its melody. Everything was starting to bewilder Saki as her head aches from both the water in her lungs and from the confusing events.

Then, as if reaching the limit, she chokes and she yells mutely in pain. Saki sobs from the forceful pressure crushing her body, shattering all semblance of strength from within her limbs as if she's still in that hospital room with its pungent smell and gray walls, stifling her cries at night from the miserable pain, lonely and so afraid.

This must be the end, it must be. Saki is going to die with some random girl singing to her as she drowns to her death. Saki is never going to achieve her dream with her friends. Saki is never going to see her brother reach the world's stage. Saki is never going to spill out her feelings to—

A pause.

The music silences and something soft plants on her mouth. It was a pair of lips. Like a goddess would to a piece of clay, the girl breathes life into Saki's body. Suddenly, oxygen starts to pump back in her lungs and her feeling of fear lightens into amazed relief.

When they part, the girl's eyes open and Saki startles at the familiar pair of vibrant, though slightly darkened, blue eyes staring straight at her. Her hair may be longer but there is no doubt that the girl in front of her, the girl that Saki has yearned to save in her dreams, the girl that she hopes to love and marry is—

...Honami?

#project sekai #saki tenma #tenma saki #honami mochizuki #mochizuki honami #honasaki #leo/need #ficlet #aster's writing #im noticing a pattern here #last time saki is saving shiho #and now its honami #should ichika be next 🤔#if it isnt obvious this is fes honami

4 notes · View notes

rere-the-writer · 3 years

Note

idk if you accept requests but I would love some poly!mikaelson with a banshee!reader pretty please 🥺✋

Yes. Let's do this boys

Warning: Fluff, death, protective Mikaelsons

You shivered walking though the bayou letting out small puffs of warm air which bothered you because you were sure it was the middle of August. It was unnaturally cold as you walked noticing you were bare footed Elijah wouldn't like that your feet were bleeding as you walked around in a short nightgown that stopped mid thigh.

You shivered again feeling a cold breeze blow over you making you wish you were curled up again Klaus. Whispers reached your ears as it felt like hands were guided you though the bayou.

You stopped seeing a body mangled to a mess as blood was everywhere when suddenly you saw your lovers laying around you each dead bleeding from their throats. You looked seeing Esther standing there looking at you with hybrids behind her.

"My children need to be cleansed. But you are in the way." The witch said as you noticed you couldn't move seeing a blood sigil of the siblings blood was keeping you there. Esther pulled out a gold coated iron knife stabbing you with it.

You woke with a gasp seeing that you were in the bayou and there was a mangled bloody body in front of you. The urge to let out a scream raised in you as you looked up at the night sky letting out a loud scream that surely woke every supernatural creature in New Orleans.

"The bloody hell is that!?" Rebekah shouted waking up looking at her clock seeing it was 3 am in the morning and got up. Elijah woke up from the scream also and noticed you weren't by his side and put two and two together.

"Y/N is gone. That must be her." Elijah said stepping out of his bedroom as Rebekah nodded getting dress. Both Originals went out to find you since Kol and Klaus was out of town off in Mystic Falls.

Another scream ripped though the air as Elijah and Rebekah followed it out into the bayou. You fell to your knees tired as tears rolled down your face and you would have fell back if Rebekah hadn't caught you.

"Beka?" You rasped out voice raw from screaming as Elijah walked over to the body frowning at the bloody mess. Both were worried as you had brought an ominous omen in awhile.

"Sweetheart are you okay? Oh Elijah she is freezing." Rebekah said looking up at Elijah who frowned pulling off his suit jacket placing it on you. A twig snapped alerting both Elijah and Rebekah both ready to attack but saw it was Hayley and Jackson.

"Elijah.....Rebekah." Hayley said looking at the Originals and you then to the body. It had been a long while since Hayley saw them as things had ended roughly for Hayley and Elijah.

"Care to tell me why there is a hybrid, Hayley?" Elijah asked knowing it wasn't Klaus's so that left Hayley who had Hope. Jackson stood protectively in front of Hayley glaring at Elijah not liking how the vampire was accusing his wife of something.

"Why do you have a banshee? They bring nothing but trouble." Jackson said making Elijah growled deeply as Rebekah held you protectively growling also.

"E...E...Esther......hybrid.....death." You rasped out getting their attention before passing out in Rebekah's arms feeling so tired.

"Esther is back?" Hayley asked looking at Elijah watching him pick you up bridal style as Rebekah brushed your hair from your face frowning.

"Not that we were aware of. Elijah, she has a fever."

"This is a first....even for her." Elijah muttered worried as your breathing was shallow. Hayley stepped out from behind Jackson arms crossed looking at the vampires.

"Answers Elijah."

"Come to the Abattoir and we'll answer whatever questions."

Klaus and Kol jumped up hearing Elijah and Rebekah walking in worry flood them seeing you in Elijah's arms.

"What happened?"

"She had a vision. Found her in the bayou with a dead hybrid." Elijah said placing you on the couch as Rebekah gotten you a blanket and putting a cool clothe on your forehead.

"A hybrid?"

"Yes also it appears our mother is back." Elijah says as Hayley made her way in with Jackson seeing the Mikaelsons fuss over you.

"You promised answers." Hayley said staring as Rebekah rolled her eyes before focusing back on you. Elijah reached down gently rubbing your cheek smiling softly when you leaned into his hand.

"Y/N is our lover....Rebekah had saved her from a group of vampires and it just happened naturally." Elijah says looking at Hayley.

"So the dead hybrid and her screaming?"

"She is a banshee, they are harbors of death. She saw our mother which has something to do with the hybrid."

"Someone is going to die?" Hayley said uncrossing her arms worried for Elijah as you woke.

"Eli.....it was you and...others I saw." You panted out getting your lovers attention. Klaus helped you sit up as Kol went to get you water.

"Can you tell us what happen love?" Klaus asked as Rebekah sat next to you wrapping you up in the blanket.

"I was walking in bayou...." You said as Elijah knelt in front of you checking your feet before getting a medkit and Kol gave you the glass of water as you drank it.

"I saw the hybrid then your bodies and I was trapped like I couldn't move....I saw Esther with hybrids, she said something of cleansing you then she stabbed me."

"So what does that mean?" Hayley asked with a raised an eyebrow as Elijah was wrapping your feet in bandages while Klaus stood smirking.

"We find Esther and kill her once again. If the hybrids get in the way we kill them too."

"Mother would likely come for our little rabbit." Kol says watching Klaus while you leaning into Rebekah as she held you.

"We can have Davina and Freya put protection spells on the Abattoir."

For the next month you were worrying over your lovers as they were hunting down Esther. It was a cold night as you slept and Rebekah had slipped into your bed.

"You're home." You muttered sleepy nuzzling closer to her as Rebekah smiled kissing you gently.

"We all are home. Have you been well?"

"Yes....no more visions for now." You say fighting to stay awake but Rebekah cooed softly having you fall asleep again. You woke three hours later feeling Elijah pressed up against your back and Kol nuzzling your abdomen.

"You alright love?" Klaus asked softly making you look up seeing Klaus sitting on the bed behind Rebekah reading.

"Yes. Is she...."

"Dead? Yes, no need to worry about Esther any more love." Klaus says reaching over rubbing your cheek when you felt Elijah move.

"Sleep baby." Elijah said his voice husky in your ear kissing your shoulder. You all settled falling asleep enjoying the quiet peaceful night finally.

#rere's stories #mikaelson family x reader #mikaelsons x reader #elijah mikaelson imagine #klaus mikaelson imagine #kol mikaelson imagine #rebekah mikaelson imagine

404 notes · View notes

gaiuswrites · 3 years

Text

Original Sin | Darksaber!Din

Pairing: Dark!Din x fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ older for the love of all things holy)

Word count: 3.4k~

Summary: Things change after Grogu leaves. People change. No one is exempt.

Warnings/tags: DUB CON?¿, masturbation (m and f), inappopriate use of darksaber, sex toy (...), Dark!Din, Dom!Din, sacrilegious references, really dark shit, i am so sorry

Update: This should go without saying, but as it turns out, it’s in need of being said: every word written in this fic is my own; any likeness to any other work is coincidence, regardless of how bizarre. I don’t mean to offend anyone or raise suspicion, as I am certainly not a plagiarist (literally couldn’t be even if I tried: I am equal parts too incompetent, too busy, and too lazy to steal from someone else. Fellow writers can attest, I’m an absolute garbage reader and fall behind on almost everyone’s work. There’s an embarrassing amount I haven’t read.) Please reach out to me personally if you have any concerns. I respect everyone here like you wouldn’t believe. Sending love to you all. Be well. ✨

Notes: When I go to hell (it really is only a matter of timing, and not so much a question of if anymore), this fic will rank number one on the list of reasons why I’m sent to my eternal timeout. This... I'm twisted. I have issues. God help us. Seriously, this is basically a horror show. I bow down to the Darksaber!Din content creators who came before me, and the original artwork that inspired me to write this— thank you for lighting this (descending, dirty) path. I HAVE TAGGED A FEW PEOPLE HERE WHO MAY OR MAY NOT BE INTERESTED but really— REALLY— there’s absolutely no pressure. Cheers friends x ( gif credit: @skyshipper )

Masterlist | Read it on Ao3!

The days stretch long like morning yawns—hours passing on creaky bones, slow and congealed inside the metal womb of the Crest.

It wasn’t always this way.

They used to be filled with pitter pattering— with wily antics and vanishing acts that could baffle even the most veteran of illusionists— with prying frogs from tiny, green hands and giggling as blocks and baubles floated through the hull. Laughter. There used to be laughter here.

But that was then. The child is gone now. The Razor Crest is quiet.

Time fills itself like this; there’s little for you to do now but wait. Wait for the dusk to blur into the dawn. Wait for your food to cook. Wait for the shower to warm. Wait for the parts you ordered to arrive at the port. Wait for Din to come back—to come home.

Home. You used to be so certain—you’d bite the head off anyone who questioned otherwise— but you’re not so sure this is home anymore. Its not that anything has changed. No, the galley, the carbonite pods, the cockpit, the deck—it’s all still here. The scuffed walls, the durasteel, the littered crates and packed arsenal. But—

It’s different. It feels different. Something is...

off.

You can’t quite put your finger on it. Its intangible, but it’s everywhere—like gas. Invisible to the naked eye, but encircling you all the same. Choking you.

Killing you.

There’s no good explanation for it. You feel eyes on you when there are none. You find yourself glancing over your shoulder, knowing full well you are alone. Something keeps snagging you, pulling at an unseen thread. The corners of your peripherals tugging at you. Beckoning.

Was that a shadow? No.

Is someone there? It’s just you.

There is a tickle at your ear - a constant - dancing along the shell of it. Wherever you go, it follows.

Home home home. It only feels like home when Din is there, safe and sound at your side. But even then, even Din—in all of his plated exterior—even Din has succumbed. Even Din has

changed.

The truth is, Grogu left and a part of Din left with him. There’s less of him now— more, too: there’s less where it matters, and there’s more where there shouldn’t be.

You don’t remember when it started—when he first disappeared. When the spark in him died, and he was reignited anew.

When this Other became.

On multiple occasions you’ve caught him murmuring into the bellied dark of the Crest with a bent spine, hunched over himself as if he’s shrinking—enveloping in in in as far as the beskar along his chest will allow him to cave. You can never pick up what he mutters, but you catch the sounds of his teeth and lips brushing together, hissing. It’s not Basic; you’d recognize it if it were. You don’t think its Mando’a either. It’s too sharp— too vile. There’s none of his language’s elegance in it.

“Did you say something?” You asked once, poking your head around the doorway, eyes resting on the shine of his helmet.

A beat—and slowly, he unfurled, rearing to his full height and like a sentinel he swiveled, pivoting to face you.

“No.”

Your throat bobbed. “Oh, I-I thought I heard-”

“Come here, mesh’la.”

And you did. You always do.

The darksaber appeared on his belt one day, shortly after the child went away. It came, only once, and there it stays. Indistinguishable - inseparable - there is no dismembering the two. It accompanies him in all things; when he pilots, when he hunts, when he eats. It sleeps by him.

By you, too.

Din has always been stoic—of scant words and physical timing—but now he is a golem. A silent, shrouded figure. His Creed is broken, and you wonder maybe - briefly - if Din is broken as well. He is never unkind to you. He is never threatening. But he is never him. His eyes— the oaky comfort you once found in them— have blackened. He is a pit.

Din Djarin is a pit of a man.

And within that pit he has born rage. Immaculately, it has sprung from him as woman did by Adam’s rib. Like mold growing upon stale fruit does he have this—this wrath. It crept through him. It stalked along his soft flesh— his tawny hide—and it waited; patient, there in the shadows, it waited for him. Waited for him to turn his back, to close his eyes and drop his guard— leeway, an entrance— as to slip in undetected.

To inhabit.

The virtue and love that once thrummed within the heart of him has burned away. Charred. Only this of him remains; this insatiable lust— for blood sport, for the promise of split knuckles and fractured bone, for you.

For all of you.

Now, Din goes out on bounties like he needs it—like it’s oxygen. He lives off it. He’s sustained by the rush, by the adrenaline laced chemicals pumping through his arteries. He’s gone for days and weeks on end and when he returns, he fucks you like he’s been starved. Out in the wilderness without a morsel to eat, he devours you. He’s ravenous as he tears his way across your body—all too pliant for him, all too willing—letting him feast on the nectar dripping from your heat.

You can feel it in his foot steps as he storms the ship, the bassy echo of it. You can see it in the pitch of his visor. You can feel it in his cock as he slams into you, night after night after night—ceaselessly. Tirelessly. Unnaturally. The number of orgasms he wrings out of you is countless—his need so incurable, you have to fight to stay above it all; you have to war against your urge to slip away completely.

Din is one grey choice - one hair trigger - from coming undone.

And you should be scared. You should be terrified—he should terrify you. Like scalding water, you should flinch away at the mere sight of him—at the warning steam that rises from his pauldrons. This predator, unhinged and off his leash—a great, crushing beast at which you are at the mercy of.

But— you aren’t.

You couldn’t place it at first: the gnawing. The gnawing at your insides like maggots festering upon a grizzled carcass hanging limp at a wet market. You couldn’t name the tremor in your gut. You gave it epithets as best you could, you gave it placeholders - fear, worry, intrigue - all until one day it spilled. One day it seeped past the tremble of your stomach and sank lower, lower,

lower.

It settled in your cunt—the gnawing. And you named it Want.

You want him. You want this—you’re addicted to it. This sin like led-lined velvet, you want to roll in it until it poisons you, until you’re smothered with it, just like it’s smothering you now— blanketing you as you mewl naked in your bed, knees knocked together. Your eyes roll back into your skull as you frantically work circles into your clit with the all consuming thought of him: his teeth at your shoulders, his hand around your windpipe.

You’re nearing your finish, the promise of that tight coil unraveling there - there - right before you. You’re so enrapt in it—in this dizzying, wanton act—you don’t register the ramp lowering. You don’t hear the carbonite chamber whir, his quarry freezing over, or his foot falls sounding their way to your bunk.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

You gasp, frightened eyelids wrenching open as his baritone timbre crackles through the hull. The Mandalorian stands there, backlit by the glow from the galley and he looms—expressionless. Haunting. You blink at him rapidly, batting away the desire that’s glazed over your eyes.

“Y-You’re back,” you stutter lamely. You try to smile. You try to distract him. “I uhm, I didn’t hear you come in. I thought you wouldn’t be back until, u-until..."

Your excuses fade, mouth parched dry. The film of his visor gives you nothing. He is unknowable, but you feel it - sense it - that energy—unbridled and rippling off of him in sick, suffocating waves.

“I’ll ask you again,” Din starts.

“What-" he steps towards you, darksaber hanging heavy at his hip, “do you think-" you shimmy up your cot, shoulder blades digging into the steel sidings, “you’re doing?”

Your heart thunders against your chest, beating until you’re sure it’ll burst.

“I’m-"

I’m sorry you almost say, and you have to force yourself to gulp down the apology. You know he doesn’t want it, and he knows you wouldn’t mean it even if you offered it to him.

Your brow wavers. “I-"

He rips away the sheet you had drawn up over you and reflexively you jerk back, revealing the gloss on your fingers and the patch of hair above your mound, shimmering shamefully—exposing you, mocking you under the dim lights.

“What’s this?” he asks, and fuck he’s patronizing you. He’s smirking—you don’t have to see it, you can hear it in the curving lilt of his voice as he drinks in the sight of your very obvious indiscretion, laid bare before him. You can’t bring yourself to answer him—you can hardly look at him—and you bristle, hair on your arm prickling up.

“You fuck yourself speechless, little one?”

Your cunt throbs, burning and contracting around the orgasm that was snatched away from you and fuck, you’re drowning in him. Din is tar—he’s an oil slick, and you’re plummeting through it—gasping for air, for the surface, for sunlight. He’s everywhere—his broad frame, his voice, his scent like copper and smoke. You can barely breathe through the thick of him.

“Answer me,” he growls, leather croaking at the clench of his fist.

“Yes—yes,” you utter, proceeding with honesty, no matter how pathetic. “I missed you,” you squeak out.

Din cocks his head, a smug look scowled onto his visor. “You missed me?” he purrs through a sneer and you nod, precious and small, worrying the inside of your lip.

He sinks one leg and then the other onto your bedroll, just between your parted feet, kneeling before you. The flimsy spring mattress squeals under his weight—all of that armor, all of that boiling soot trapped within him.

“How much?”

For a moment, you must look confused. Puzzled. Your eyebrows furrow as Din unclips the saber from his belt, rolling it over in his hand. You rake your gaze up from it, dilated pupils landing on the unforgiving black panel there.

“You claim you missed me. Prove it.”

Your cunt bottoms out.

He crouches over you, tracing along your inner thighs with it's steel shaft and you bury your fists into the cot. You don't know which to look at: Din or the rod in his hand. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you trust me.”

Fuck, it feels like you’re going to rattle apart. There isn’t an inch of you that isn’t humming—isn’t seizing up wild. “I-I trust you,” you mouth softly. And you do, whether you should or not—you trust him with your life, to make or ruin.

“Fuck, you’re wet mesh'la,” he appraises darkly, leaning in to run a leathered digit through your seam, parting your curls. Your legs twitch, heels of your feet digging into the bed. “So ready for me. So eager."

Your eyes dance frenetically down to the handle and back up to him as he aligns the saber with your pussy. The blunt end of it touches your lips and you shudder, instinctually fidgeting away from it. Din splays his hand on your knee, anchoring you in place. “Shh,” he coos, rubbing a thumb soothingly into your skin. It doesn’t feel sweet. It feels sickly, cloying— like arsenic.

You don’t dare breathe as he prods the shaft into you, inch by terrible inch. It doesn’t matter how slicked and wet you are from touching yourself, your walls strangle the foreign intrusion. Your body resists.

“Fuck,” you sob. Your throat, your pussy, all of it— it’s all compacted. It feels so fucking tight, both words and air fighting to get out and in all at once—everything inside you constricting.

“Show me,” he grits through clenched teeth. “Show me how much you missed me.” He drags his gloved digit over your clit, pressing down onto it until you see stars, fizzing in front of your vision. “I know you can take it, sweet girl. Be good and show me.”

Be good. Be good for him. Be his only vice.

He continues to swirl at your bundle of nerves and you’re nearly thrashing with it— with all of this— hair fanned and mussed against the pillow as you writhe, swallowing his saber to the hilt. Fuck, you’re so full. Maker, you’re stuffed with it; with the cold, uneven edges, the ridges woven into the grip of it— and he slowly - tortuously - delves the handle in and out of you, hitting against your cervix with every thrust.

You can only mumble. Your lips have gone slack, your mind is cavernous. All you can do is quiver and beg— beg for release. Beg for it to end.

Beg for more.

“Oh gods, oh g- Maker, please—”

Your bleary eyes shoot open as you’re silenced by the grip of his gloved hand.

“No.” Din pinches your jaw in the web of his palm, fingertips dimpling your cheeks. “No, your God isn’t here,” he seethes, low and deadly, graphite venom dripping from his lips. “Pray to me.”

Fuck.

Trembling, your lips pucker ugly and sloppy as you babble uselessly in his stony grasp, chin crinkling with a whimper. “D-Din.”

He inhales sharply, mouth snaking into a wicked grin behind his helm. “That’s it. That’s my good girl.”

He’s deboning you as he would a fish. Practiced, he plucks you into messy pieces—gutting you through your open maw. His ministrations are crawled. They’re slothed and carnal with arrogance and pride and it’s not enough—its all together too much, but still—it’s not enough. You’re hungry. You paw at him, scraping over his breastplate.

“Din, please—more," you gasp feverishly, eyes blown wide.

A blip of static huffs through his modulator. “You want more, you filthy little thing?” He gives you another squeeze, indenting scorch marks into your face.

You nod—you try to, his grasp is too firm, rooting your neck to still. “Yes.”

Din groans, all but obliging you as he begins to fuck you harder, pistoning through you as he thumbs your nub with his rough pad.

“Din-”

You’re whining now, tinny and depraved. It’s wrong. Every part, every second of this, is wrong. Immoral. But you can’t stop the way your body convulses at his every touch—you can’t stop the heat roiling in your core.

“Din, Din baby- fuck fuck fuck-”

It’s like he’s trying to split you in two—all of you. Your pussy, your mind, your soul—he’s bisecting you. Divvying you up to bits of nothing. It’s only then that horrid realization occurs to you, winding through your addled haze as he fucks you deep and splintering: you’ll never be whole again.

And scarier still—you don’t think you want to be.

No, you want to be these loathsome shards. You want to be broken glass. You want to draw blood.

You want to be possessed by him.

“Fuck yourself,” he pants, his cock straining violently against his trousers, begging for relief. “Be good and fuck yourself. Let me watch.”

Be good be good be good

He leaves your clit and you whimper at the loss. Your face is stained with tears. The salty trails cascade down to mingle into your hair, into the sheets. You’re vibrating, but you do as he says and you reach down, recoiling when you touch the chilled metal tip. Tentatively, you pad along it, settling on the end that’s peeking out from you.

A pained sound rumbles through Din as you wrap your fist around the saber, and your eyes flit up to meet his, hidden somewhere behind his helm. Hurriedly he unbuttons his pants in a flourish and removes himself from his constraints. He’s pulsing and proud, flexing up against his stomach, the veins choked to bulge along the angry, silken shaft of him.

Finally, you begin to move the hilt—finding an aching, undulating rhythm and he can’t fucking take it. He rips his helmet off, letting it clatter to the floor.

“Din,” your pray, “Din, I think I’m going to-”

You’re wrecked – fried like a livewire– as you look for him, as you search and search—for that warmth, for a trace of him left there. The Din you knew, the Din you agreed to fly with all those months ago, the Din you love. You think you see it sometimes—in the slant of his mouth, the bridge of his nose— but here, now, he is gone.

He is a pit.

Din Djarin is a pit of a man, and you want nothing more than to fall. Standing on the ledge of him, staring down into the abyss—you want this. You want to fall. You want to jump.

“Tell me you’re mine. Tell me, sweet girl— tell me.” He’s fucking his fist raw, humping into his palm as desperate as an animal.

“I’m yours,” you mewl. Furiously rubbing your clit with one hand and spearing yourself on the rod of his saber with the other, your hips buck and spasm. You snap. A blinding light sears through you, ricocheting off every scrap of muscle and tendon sewed up in your body. “Just for you,” you cry, “I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours—”

Your ragged sobs mix with the lewd slaps of skin as Din pumps himself, hot ropes of his release spitting onto you— painting your pussy, the divot of your navel, coating along the slope of your tummy.

“Look at you—fucking, look at you,” he moans throatily, easing through his rough strokes as he softens.

Your chest is heaving and you feel dumb, empty—like a puppet, arms and legs moving on phantom strings. Din removes the handle from you with a wet squelch; a viscous strand of your juices clings on, obscenely connecting your pussy to the base of it, and you rasp—the wind punched out of you with its gaping absence. You gush. It dribbles out the slit of you, leaking past your abused hole and soaking into the bedroll.

When he unsheathed the saber from your scabbard, he took a part of you with it. You’re so fucked out—you’re practically a parsec away— it went unnoticed.

Undetected.

It brushed past you. You didn’t feel it—you didn’t recognize the whisper that has slithered in in it’s place, nestling within your swollen folds.

Breeding there.

“Beautiful,” Din murmurs, placing it on the mattress beside your head, the chrome of it gleaming with your slick. He bows his head to lick a path up your cunt, laving you clean as he climbs higher and higher, tonguing off his seed from your stippled skin. “Fucking beautiful, mesh’la,” he growls. “Mine—all fucking mine.”

You’ve gone heavy. You’re too heavy to keep your eyes open—you’ve been hollowed out and you’ve got nothing keeping you tethered here. You start slipping under in slow motion—intervals between languid blinks lasting longer and longer. You’re spooled in a knot of tangled limbs with Din’s mouth, fervent and needy, flaying you open as he sees fit— with his hot mouth and teeth, suckling your breasts, biting at your nipples and bruising your pretty neck.

It’s not long before you hear it again, as you have before— as you always do: the faint caressing of speech, of lips forming language you cannot understand—made indecipherable in your strung out high.

“D’you say something?” you mumble, half conscious—half dreaming.

Din laps a long stripe up your throat, his stubble sanding your skin. “No.”

You sigh, breathy and girlish, as his fingers find your mound, dipping into you once again. He makes you cum twice more that evening. You barely have the strength to watch him do it.

Finally, when he’s satisfied—when he’s spent with driving you mad, making you rile— he grants you respite. He permits it – generous, charitable - and you sleep like the dead, soundly through the night until—

until you don’t.

Eyes. You feel them somewhere— there are eyes on you. You stir, stuttering in your sleep to squirm in the dark. You don’t know what you’re listening to at first. It’s a sound of some kind, a noise. There is a hiss—

A frigid hand seizes around the bloody organ pulsing in your ribcage.

No, not a hiss—it’s a voice. It’s— no-

You pat around for Din beside you but he’s gone—he’s long gone and his vacant spot has grown cold without him—and your nails dig into the sheets, desperately clawing into the fabric.

Inside you.

The voice, the sharp hush of it—it’s inside you. It speaks from inside your own mind, its forked tongue fluttering against your ear.

‘Wake up, sweet girl.’

Tags (IM SO SORRY): @djarinsbeskar @pedros-mustache @krissology @keeper0fthestars @read-and-rec

#darksaber!din #dark!din #dark!din x reader #dark!din x you #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mando fanfiction #mando x you #mando x reader #the mandalorian #star wars #sw fanfic #darksaber #Im so sorry #dom!din #haunted!din

600 notes · View notes

saiqherrr · 3 years

Text

— lunch hours (k. nanami)

.pairing kento nanami x fem!reader

.content warning nsfw, smut, teacherxstudent, age gap, cheating, oral sex (m!receiving), teasing, unprotected sex, mouth covering, semi-rough sex, taunting, (let me know if i missed any!)

.synopsis you've had your eye on your professor for quite some time...

.a/n NANAMI HAS A LITTLE BIT OF A MULLET HERE, requested by the one & only @oonizoomi :smug: LOL. enjoy this. it's short but i just wanted to give my baby nanami some love. i might make a part two to this :shrug:

.wc 2.3k

this was not proof read, but i will be editing, my bad :dead:

NANAMI’S SLACKS were annoyingly crinkled as he plunked down in the cushioned chair that was located in front of the folding table in front of him. he slid off his jacket, revealing the blue dress shirt that was buttoned around his bottom underneath. he was the only teacher on this floor who had a lunch hour at this time, so to his luck, he was able to eat his lunch without the disturbance of teachers conversing with their mouths full about tattle that nanami couldn’t attempt to give a shit about.

on this particular day, nanami was more irritated than usual. things at home were a bit tense; he and his wife were contending reliably about pointless things. the arguments would go on for hours. usually, the two of them would kiss and make up, taking things to the bed to ease their tension, but lately, his wife wasn't in the temperament for it at all. in fact, he felt like she was getting off to it too - touching him whenever he was frustrated, underhanded signals brushing against him, and then stopping abruptly, leaving poor nanami with blue balls.

he thought about his wife as he ate the lunch that she made for him. it was a small salad bowl, filled with a variety of things nanami liked and three rice balls. "she probably poisoned this," nanami whispered to himself underneath his breath. he chewed on his food slowly as he reclined into his seat, placing his elbows on the arms of the chair, his fork close to his mouth. a knock at the door startled him, for no one ever came in here. he grunts as he places his fork down on the table and gets up, huffing with annoyance.

he opened the door and looked down to see you there. standing at 6'0'', he was taller than you by a couple of inches. from his view, he was inevitably presented with the view of your cleavage and busty set of breasts. he gulped when he saw you, trying not to pay too much attention to your chest.

you modestly smiled at him, giving him faux naive eyes that nanami could read through. you did this very often; revealing more skin whenever you got to his class but covering up as soon as you moved onto the next one. nanami noticed it and at first, it bothered him, but after a while, he'd come onto campus in the morning thinking, "what's y/n going to show me today?" and he'd chuckle as he thought about how desperate you were to seduce him.

"may i help you, y/n?" nanami practically had to force the words out as he scanned your body. his ears became hot and the rest of his gaunt face was gradually becoming a slight shade of red. his consciousness was clouded with shame. he shouldn't be getting aroused by a student.

you cocked your head to the side, examining nanami's look. your smile became vexatious as it dawned on you that your mischievous antics were working in your favor. "yeah, actually…" your eyes flickered down to the notebooks and textbook you were holding before flickering back to nanami's eyes. "i'm really having trouble understanding today's concepts…lectures are so hard to follow for me."

nanami sighed before clenching his jaw unnaturally tight. get it together. nanami rubbed his hand on the back of his neck, before running his hand through the hairs that covered the area, reluctant to speak. "um, okay. just-just come in here, we'll talk about it." he stepped back to give you more access into the small room while nanami peered into the hallway, looking from right to left before closing the door.

a loud thud caught him off guard. "oh." you dropped your textbook - purposefully - and bent down in front of nanami to pick it up. your short skirt fell upward, revealing your white, cotton panties that were clearly visible and nanami's eyes widen at the sight. his lips parted and he couldn't even think straight, immaturely not looking away. as you picked up the book, your skirt fell back down and you smoothed it out before placing the big textbook on the table. you gave him those same innocent eyes again and this time it bothered him enough for him to say something about it.

"you put on a terrible facade, ms. l/n," nanami derides.

the words make your ears perk up. "i don't know what you're talking about, professor."

his nostrils flared as he licked his bottom lip and leaned on the door, locking it simultaneously. your eyes darted to the locked door and back to him. "y/n, you barely try to make it discreet." his arousal was causing him to speak recklessly, but he felt little to no shame about it.

you smiled bigger, showing more teeth as you walked closer to him, invading his personal space. you watched the way his chest rose up and fell down, admiring how anxious you made him. you admired everything about him. he was an older guy - which you had a thing for - and he took care of himself. he smelt good, he looked good, skin free of imperfections. his angular face was so attractive you, wishing you could see it buried between your legs, feasting on your pretty cunt. that mullet he had been growing throughout the year fit him perfectly and you hope he’d let it grow longer, too. you held so much power over him that he couldn't realize until now. "is it too much for you?" you murmur, your hand naturally caressing one side of nanami's face, turning it around so that the back of your hand was gliding across it.

nanami's mind went blank as he stared into your big, irises. a bulge was growing in his pants that he couldn't even hide. the pent-up anger and tension he's been holding for the past few days were preventing him from making smart choices.

"it's not enough…" nanami mumbled dreamily before crashing his lips into yours. his lips were soft in contrast to the style in which he kissed you, so rough and so needy. you didn't expect it to be so raunchy, you found nanami to be timider. but you weren't complaining. this was ten times better than what you expected and you mentally congratulated yourself. all that work of showing off in front of your professor paid off.

your lips barely left his lips every time you both broke away to come back to each other like magnets. moans were muted by the connection of your lips, echoing inside one another's mouths. you broke away and started to unbutton nanami's shirt. nanami watched you intently, breathing heavily. once it was fully unbuttoned, your hands snaked up his chest and down again, causing nanami's breath to hitch.

"make this quick," nanami demanded desperately.

you bit your lip, trying to hold back your excitement. you got on your knees, the carpet pressing against your knees, and began to unbuckle his pants. the entire area was hot...all for you. you rubbing him through his boxers, being a bit of a brat until nanami threateningly glared down at you. without a command being given, you pulled down his boxers and his cock damn near sprung out, eager to get milked. you wrapped your hand around it, spreading the stickiness of his pre-cum that sat at his tip across his length. you could feel the prominence of a vein running underneath his cock, sticking out your tongue and licking that specific area. it made nanami's legs weak as he relied on the wall behind him to support him "fuck…"

your lips wrapped around his pulsing head before you pushed yourself down, taking all of him into your mouth, your cheeks becoming hollow. you slobbered over his cock, coating it with your saliva. nanami's hips slowly bucked forward into your mouth against his own will. his tip connected to the rear of your throat, but you had your gag reflex under control. his thigh twitched, feeling like he wasn't getting enough of you. the moans and groans that fled from his lips urged you to satisfy him in the best way possible. anything that got a reaction out of him, you kept doing, you kept him satisfied. your dirty moans vibrated against him, a feeling rippling from his toes that traveled through his entire body. every lick, every suck, was filled with rapture and it all felt like a drug. he needed to be inside of you.

"who knew you could take me so well..." nanami moans. his ovation set a wave of heat down your body. your panties dampened from your drooling cunt. you needed him now. now. you removed your lips from his cock, making a pop sound. you prepped his cock enough. you didn't want to make him cum yet.

you got off your knees and stood on your feet again, kissing him desperately, eyebrows furrowed like you were going to cry. "fuck me, nanami, please…"

nanami didn't have to think twice about doing so. he harshly pulled down your skirt and felt upon the puffy lips of your cunt and you shivered under his touch. he slides your panties aside, making you whimper from the sensitivity, and there was an eager, swollen clit waiting for him. "please…" nanami ignored your pleas, blinded by overwhelming lust as his thumb pressed against your clit, making you weak. nanami impatiently hoisted you onto his waist and pushed you against the wall.

"be quiet, y/n. i don't want to hear you…" while he was being controlled like a puppeteer by such an inexcusable lust, he was very much aware that if someone heard, it'd ruin his life and yours.

with a bit of a struggle, he positioned his tip with your hot entrance before you slid down onto his full length. you let out a silenced moan, mouth agape, and eyes rolled back. he was deep inside your core, stretching out your gummy walls that eventually accumulated to his girth and sucked him in desperately. you felt so good, better than anything he had ever felt. every thought and memory of his wife had vanished from his mind, even as his wedding ring grazed your skin occasionally. nanami began thrusting into your cunt at a steady pace, his skin smacking with yours. he got uncomfortable with this decision, bringing you to the end of the table, laying you on your back before gripping your hips and bouncing you up and down on his shaft. nanami hisses as you clench around him.

"it's...it's too much," you choke out in broken moans. you only said it so he could give it to you more, and it translated perfectly to him because his thrusts suddenly become more vicious. they rocked the table underneath you, he fucked you like it'd be his last time. the moans you had been struggling to hold back were forcing themselves up again, regrettably falling from your mouth.

"shut...up…" nanami grunted. he narrowed his eyes at you, but you weren't even directly looking at him, you were seeing stars. the way he fucked you was almost animalistic. was his wife having menopause or something?

"do you fuck your wife like this?" you taunted. his eyes seemed to grow darker at your words. "does she give it up like this? is she a slut like me?"

nanami took your right hand in his, intertwine your fingers, and slammed it against the table so hard that you couldn't help but cry out. his other hand covered your mouth as he continued to ram into you. "i asked you to shut up…"

at a certain point, he found your g-spot and once he saw your body spazz from hitting it, he didn't take his time to abuse it. your walls were pulsating against his cock, milking him with such greed. "yes...yes...yes…" he whispered over and over. he was getting close to his climax.

"don't stop, don't stop, don't stop," your pleas escaped through the cracks of nanami's fingers.

"fuck," he groaned out. your pussy was addicting. every time he swung his hips out, your core drew him right back into your sore hole. a familiar feeling spawned in your toes that shot straight up to your groin, causing your body to jerk violently as your legs were shaking. you let out a muffled cry, face twisted as you felt your orgasm in every part of your body. he could feel your cum slicking his cock as he continued to violated your walls, fucking you through your orgasm. "i'm so close…" his thrusts became arrhythmic, sloppy, and slow before he put in one last thrust, cumming inside of you, your walls drenched in his cum. nanami saw white and shook against your body as he was buried inside of you. he pulled out, mouth agape and panting heavily. he removed his hand from your face and you gasped for air that he unintentionally blocked off.

nanami took a moment to collect himself, get his thoughts together. he realized he came inside of you and blinked profusely, wondering if this was a wet dream or not. "fuck...fuck, fuck, fuck." he pulled up his boxers and pants and buttoned his shirt, but he was still not situated as proper as he usually was.

"i didn't mean to cum in you." nanami's voice was filled with regret. you stared at him and it finally hit you as well - he came in you. for the most part, nanami had avoided any type of action that held romance or intimacy. he simply wanted to use you as a cum bucket and that was it, however, he came inside of you. nanami was pacing around the room as you were putting your skirt back on. he finally stopped and took a deep breath before turning to you. "are you on the pill?"

you chuckled lightly as you saw the panic in his face. "yes, yes i am."

all that fear was replaced with relief as he breathlessly plopped down into the chair with his hand on his head. "don't speak of this. to anyone."

"of course."

while he did something very wrong and unfaithful, the thought of never doing this with you again didn't even step foot into his mind. whatever it was about you, he had to have it again. he figured keeping you around wouldn't be too bad - and securing your trust with a bribe would do no harm either.

"you suck in this course so, i'll keep your grade up," nanami says before you get ready to walk out the door. you half-smile and felt heat rising up to your cheeks. "as long as we get to do this sometime again."

#nanami imagine #nanami x you #kento nanami #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #jjk kento #nanami smut #nanami headcanons #jjk smut #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujustu kaisen

579 notes · View notes

blzzrdstryr · 3 years

Note

Hello ! May I request a yan scaramouche x fatui harbinger reader? This is my first time sending a request, so I'm not sure what else to add..

I thought about answering this with headcanons only, but I like your idea enough, so my brain blurted out a small drabble to accompany them.

Yandere!Scaramouche x fatui harbinger!gn!reader

Scaramouche isn’t a type of person that is easy to please, as he can find fault in almost anything or anyone within a couple of minutes, a contemptuous scowl taking it’s usual place on his face. He dislikes his subordinates - they are stupid and slow and never get his orders right, despite how simple his commands are. He loathes ordinary people - they idle around and get in the way of his business. And, of course, he despises his colleagues - they're crazy and annoying bunch, starting from the battle obsessed ginger idiot and ending with just straight up insane scientist who likes to play god on other fatui underlings.

Not counting you, of course.

You see, there is always some exception from the rule, divergence from the median, unnatural anomaly, you.

It was hard at first, to comprehend that he actually liked you. He felt this weird warmth blooming in his chest as he looked at you, cheeks furiously heating up, and his eyes were searching for your face, and especially your lips, every time you had a meeting together. Every single time.

All it took for him to finally realize his feelings for you was some half serious comment from Childe, the moron joked that Scaramouche looked like a longing maiden, at which the shorter man snapped back with a couple of barbed insults that no doubt hurt Tartaglia’s ego.

Despite understanding his sentiments now, it didn’t make life easier in the slightest sense. On the contrary, Scaramouche was now aware how much in love he was with you - he was annoyed with himself for the first three weeks - and how much power you had over him.

It is frightening to know that he allowed himself to be ruled by his feelings alone like some foolish teen having a first crush. You reduced a great Harbinger to some love obsessed idiot. Scaramouche started to catch himself how hard it is to just stop staring at your form, devouring your face, legs and form with eyes alone, or how angry he gets once anyone other than him talks to you, be it other Harbingers, your underlings or even Tsaritsa herself.

Sometimes a desperate thought makes its way into his mind - to lock you up and hide from the whole world, to be the only person to touch, smell, taste and see you, to be the only one blessed to witness your beauty and hear your voice. Silly notion reappears in his head with a concerning frequency, and he sometimes even entertains it, consumed by his imagination for a far longer time that is healthy

Nonetheless, Scaramouche always has to discard the idea - it is a mad, perverse and unobtainable image - no matter how much he lusts after you and pictures you all good and docile just for him, you are still a Harbinger, his equal in everything, including the power. If only you were some underling or even civilian, then he wouldn’t need to feign indifference in your presence, or stop some of his less than pleasant urges. He could just snatch you and chain you, train to be a good little toy just for him, happy to serve it’s master and owner.

Oh how sweet you would moan and beg under him, how much you would do to please him. Scaramouche could break you and rebuild from scratch, make sure that there is nothing but him in your pretty head, match his obsession with you with a love he would force you to learn. He could be your god and the world, replace everything in your life with his presence alone. Sadly, there’s no way Scaramouche can get away with this when you are his equal.

Fortunately for him, there are ways fatuis even as high and mighty as Harbingers can still lose their title. The easiest one is to disappoint Tsaritsa - fail enough tasks, mess up significant missions or cause an international conflict, you pick it.

It’s a traitorous and dangerous thought - sabotage of the fellow harbinger, something that would prompt his own demotion or even dismissal if someone got wind of what he plans. But, Scaramouche muses, it’s also a game worth playing - he can lose everything if he fails, but he’ll get you if he wins. He just needs to trick you to ruin your reputation and attract the ire of the cryo archon.

“Hello”, he says, approaching you after the usual harbinger gathering, a fake smile plastered on his face: “I want to help you with that mission Tsaritsa gave you”.

You look at him with an unreadable gaze, brows furrowed in contemplation: “Why would you offer your help?”

“I don’t want Tsaritsa or Fatui to be at a disadvantage, this task is really hard. I am not questioning Tsaritsa’s judgement, but Qixing started to be really suspicious of us, especially after that idiot, Tartaglia, almost drowned the whole city”. He tries to keep his usual slightly annoyed, slightly angered manner of talking, hoping that you won’t question him.

It works - “All right”, you nod offering an intel spies have collected, and start introducing him to what you plan to do. He intently listens, feeling how his fake smile grows into a genuine one.

Headcanons

Scaramouche is smitten - his eyes trail you, he takes your every word like a holy scripture, he gets so flustered when you just look his way, yet he never shows it to you, a bored facade appearing every time you pay him even a gram of attention.

You, most likely, won't even be aware of his crush growing into obsession - Scaramouche is a skilled actor, capable of showing thousands of different emotions seconds, effortlessly switching between the masks.

Despite the gentle feelings he has fpr, Scaramouche also possesses much darker urges that he doesn't want to stop.

He is very possessive, getting angry every time you talk with anyone other than him.

He likes to picture you obedient and docile, worshipping him like a God. He thinks he deserves it.

The balance in the power between you two is something that really bothers him - he wants you to be completely dependent on him, vulnerable before any wish and perversion he could subject you to.

Will try to sabotage you as a harbinger in hopes that you lose your title and power.

If you somehow remain infallible to his schemes and plans he will try to actually befriend you.

It's an arduous task, none of the harbingers really like each other enough to build such intimate connections, and both you and Scaramouche know it.

If you have a lesser rank than him, he will try to come off as a well meaning senior. If he is the one with a lesser title, then he will feign ignorance and ask for assistance.

All in all, your fate depends on how smart and cautious you are around Scaramouche. If you are perceptive enough he will have to face one defeat after the other, lessenning his resolve.

Don't think that it will be enough to stop him from trying, though.

#Yandere Scaramouche x reader #Yandere Scaramouche #Yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere x reader #yandere #Scaramouche #Yandere genshin #Yandere genshin x reader #I see a little silhouetto of a man #my writing

390 notes · View notes

savorysatori · 3 years

Text

DEJA VU. / SATORI TENDŌ! — dé·jà vu.

Deja Vu. /ˌdāZHä ˈvo͞o / a feeling of having already experienced the present situation.

synopsis. — you were both broken up. done with each other for the rest of your life, but, that one phone call always awoke something in you. bringing you back to where you used to be.

// warnings. smoking, car sex, tiny bit of angst. fem!reader, ex-lovers. possessiveness, toxic!tendō, face-sitting, daddy kink. + overstimulation, manipulation, non-con at first.

leader’s notes. my second attempt at writing angst and I hope I don’t butcher it, anyways, writing this hurt bad <33 but it’s also so hot because of toxic tendō. hehe! 💗

“You always babble on about us .. saying we can’t be together, and yet, you always pick up on my calls. You’re useless without me, dove.”

4:55 AM. — It was a soft breeze tonight, the birds were silent and the sun was slowly rising to uplift the night sky. It was a quiet night. Nothing to disturb your neighbors of their slumber, deep sleep with dreams of all kinds of things swishing between them and others.

But, you, oh you. You were up, wide awake, awaiting that same message you get from him every single day. It had become a schedule to stay up this late, hoping the three bubbles would pop up beside his name. You yearned to see him again. And it was awful. An awful, awful thing. You fell deeper into his hole of games and tricks he played on you, unable to climb out from it. Fell deep into the love he provided you. But he couldn't love you back. That was the worst part of it, and the reason you could never tell anybody. You wanted to leave, and you did. You were the one who chose to break up, yet the one who kept going back and forth. This was the cycle of a pathetic relationship, and you knew it. You felt your cell phone vibrate in your hand. You felt a mixture of dread and excitement. Dread, because you knew who was texting.

“Come outside. I’m here.”

The message showed up. From there, you knew it was him. His words were short. Uneventful, but short. You opened your front door, walking out to the middle of the meadow behind your house, to feel the crisp air on your famished skin. The moon was high in the sky, and its light illuminated your surroundings. There was nobody else around, giving you a sense of isolation from any other living being. Tendō leaned against his sleek car, exactly where your visions had led you to expect him to be. His legs were crossed and his shoulders slumped as if he was trying to disappear into the dark color of the car. You couldn't make out much else about him, as he was keeping himself cloaked in shadow.

"Tendō," you uttered, walking up to him.

He slowly lifted his head, peeking out from the cloak of car. His eyes were lifeless. Empty. There was no emotion in those deep vermillions. They were cold. Hard. Like the metal of the car they were resting on.

"So, you did come,” he said, his voice monotone and emotionless, his mouth however was pulled up into a small smirk. He pushed himself up from the car, standing at its height. He brushed some dirt off his slacks, and pulled the car door open, climbing inside. You followed his example, climbing into the passenger seat.

Tendō’s car was spotless. Not a speck of dirt was anywhere to be found on the car's interior. The seats were equally as clean, with not a single stain or tear in sight. It was obvious that he took great care in keeping his car in pristine condition. It made all the memories flood back easily into your brain, having you remember exactly everything that happened in here. As you sat in it, the engine still idling, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, pulling one out and putting it in his mouth. He lit it with his flickery lighter, taking a deep breath in and releasing it through his nose.

“I thought you quit,” you repeated the same words from before, hoping he took them in. He didn't answer. Instead, he focused on the cigarette in his mouth as he drew it out. Pushed a button to raise the window, allowing the smoke to escape into the frigid night air.

‘Why wasn’t he answering you?’

The clock in your head ticked and tocked. Back and forth with you getting irritated with by the lack of response you are getting.

He slowly exhaled, the smoke leaving his lips in a thin stream.

"Quit your bickering, would ya’? "

The two of you sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity. Smoke filled the car's interior, clouds swirling around each other as they rose into the air. The smell of tobacco vanished when he crushed the cig in his palm, flicking the now burnt remains out the window. Once the window rolled up, you could see the uneasiness settle into your stomach.

“Ten- we gotta.. end this, tonight. Last time.”

You were sure about it. Hundred percent, sure. Even if the need of your body wasn’t. You could feel it. His words were vague, non-committal at best, but his eyes, that's what he was getting at. His dead eyes told you all you need to know. Tendō grabbed your hand, and before you could even think about it, your hand went near your mouth, coercing you onto his lap with a brutal grip.

His other arm wrapped around your waist, holding you in place. Your legs moved to straddle him, your knees on either side of his thighs. His hand left your mouth, finding its way onto your throat. You gulped in a breath, instantly feeling the pain of his fingers trapping your flesh. His face, so close to yours.

“You always babble on about us .. saying we can’t be together, and yet, you always pick up on my calls. You’re useless without me, dove.”

And he was right, so right. All of it. All of his games, tactics, his plans. You left him, yet you kept coming back. Why?

His eyes burned with a bright red, like two hot cinders. Tempting you to utter a word from your quivering lips, daring you to make a peep. And just like that, his found yours, smothering your lips. Soft at first, but soon they were hungry. They were everywhere, and you welcomed each one. Tongue pushed into your mouth; you tasted the blood from your bitten lip. The smoky flavor of his mouth was gone, replaced by the metal-like bitterness of his cold breath. You were weak. Powerless against him.

Your knees bent, your legs becoming wobbly, and you gave in. What else could you do? You couldn’t resist to his whims. His cold fingers rested against your burning cheek, his other hand grabbed at the side of your face, fingers digging into your jaw.

"You're mine." He breathed, his lips barely moving.

Dazed and confused, you didn't utter a single sound. His hand ran down your cheek, and he gave a light squeeze, holding you in place for his next move. His cold lips pressed against your cheek, moving slowly to your ear. "Say it."

"I'm yours!” The words escaped your lips, as if someone had pressed them in. They felt unnatural, wrong. It was like you was forcing yourself to say them. He let out a low chuckle, his hot breath causing you to shiver, no, to tremble. "Good girl."

The hand that was on your face moved down, and he grabbed at the front of your shirt. The feeling of his hand against your skin sent chills down your spine. You could feel him smile against your skin, his lips splayed on your chest. It all came too fast. One moment he was whispering dreadful words, the next he had the leather seat laid back, the remaining clothes thrown away with your legs fastened around each side of his head, cunt mere inches away from his hungry mouth. He had your wrists pushed against your head, and the leather seat belt were tied to your arms, leaving you unable to move them. Tied down, forced to watch, no matter how hard you tried to look away... he filled your glistening pussy with his cold tongue.

It was brutal. it was exquisite.

Moans came out of your lips with every thrust, and you couldn't help but push against his mouth. You wanted more. So much more. You could feel the warmth of his mouth, hear the slurping and slopping sounds as his tongue moved in and out, spreading the lips of your pussy to suckle. The harder you went, the wetter he made you, flicking at your clit. His stubble raked against your inner thighs as his mouth moved up to your aching sex. You rocked into his face, faster with a swirl from your hips. You could almost feel the heat of his breath against your clit as you loosed a torrent of dirty words, his name passed your lips in a long tone.

“Daddy! hah, ye- yes! ‘s good,”

He didn't need telling twice. Grabbing your hips, he steadied your gyrating body as he buried his head in your depths. He pushed your legs up, spreading you wide open. His tongue swept in and out, faster and faster. You could feel the air swirling around your clit as his nose pushed against your folds, sucking your sore bud into his mouth and biting down. You came hard, shuddering as your muscles tightened and unknotted themselves, unable to do anything else as wave after wave hit you.

Tendō’s tongue slid up from your sensitive bud, slipping back into his mouth with the filth of your juices splayed on it. He did exactly what he always did, make you dazed over him. Crawling back to him and his dick with need.

“Look at you. A fucking whore, whinin’ and squealing, you can’t go a fucking day without me — can you?” he urged you on with his harsh words, bringing you back from the aftershock.

You were addicted to him.

“No. I — I can’t, I love you too much,” a sniffle came from you, eyes settling to close. “But, please .. fuck me, daddy.”

A pleased look spread onto his face. He won. “You’re finally learning, dove. Now you know you can’t live without me, I’m too fuckin’ good.” you were swished from on top of his face, your legs being forced up, your knees drawn back as his fingers dug into your thighs. Gently, he guided his dick to you. His hands wrapped around your legs as he slowly started to push into you, rocking his hips as he found your warm, wet hole.

“Daddy! — ah, fuuck.” you hissed as he entered you, wincing as he twisted his hips, grinding the last inches of his cock into you. Cool air brushed against your raw neck and the inside of your thighs as his warm body pushed against you. With every thrust, his dick ground against your clit, sending jolts of delight through your body. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as your fingers bit into his flesh. You didn't want it to end. This pure, unadulterated pleasure. He leaned forward, supporting his weight on his forearms as he panted.

You were tight. So fuckin’ tight, Tendō could barely move.

He thrust into you, hard. His pelvis slapped your ass as you took him in. You moaned into his mouth as his dick rubbed that sweet spot inside you, your body felt as if it was in a craze of desire. He steadied his breathing as he started to thrust harder, keeping an intent of driving you cock drunk. Tendō wrapped his hand around your throat, as his other hand raised your legs and wrapped them around his waist. His lips were messily pressed against your cheek as he kissed you with deep, raw animalistic lust. You bit your tongue to prevent yourself from making any noise, but your body betrayed you as a moan still slipped past your lips.

“I know you missed this from the way you look, I know you miss me. Let me hear you mutter it, baby.” he panted as your bodies' rhythm began to sync up.

Your nostrils were filled with his scent, your eyes were covered by your hair, but you could still see as he fucked you with kind-buttons, and the pain grew. “I’ve missed it!” And you did as you were told, jumping onto his cock and draining it dry with your whines. “I’ve missed you, s’so much, lo- love you too.”

“Knew it. I fucking knew it already, your mine.”

He was unrelenting as his cock mushed against your womb, his forehead pressed against yours. His fingers dug into your sweat-soaked back as he huffed, his breath coming out in heavy pants. You could feel the liquid filling your insides as his warm cum plugged you. His body kept on thrusting as he emptied himself into you. Your vision grew dark as the world turned all of its colors. You felt light-headed, but you didn't want it to end. You couldn’t have it end.

Tendō’s eyes ranked of desire and crave, he had you where he always wanted. Plugged you to be his, lure you back in with his lustful advances, have you stay up till the crack of dawn — waiting for that phone call from him. Make you whine just for the simplest touch from him. He drove you mad. That devilish grin on his face as he had you pinned down, that was all it took for you to fall into temptation's arms again. You were the king and he was the pawn, catching you in checkmate.

“You also still .. love me, right?”

A deep, guttural laugh escaped from him. One that would make someone wince, embarrassed of the question they asked. You wished you could take it back, wish you could go back in time and not say a peep. Wish you could disappear from reality. Just this once.

“Yes. Of course I do, my little devil. But that’s in another lifetime, one where I’m your actual boyfriend.”

You’ve felt this moment before. Tasted those same words leaving your lips, savored them to the hilt. This exact feeling felt familiar like you’ve experienced it before. You were trapped in a haze of deja vu, going around in circles and repeating the same actions from before. Just like now, what you asked him. You asked him before.

“Checkmate.”

#haikyuu!! smut #tendo smut #tendo x you #haikyuu smut #tendo x y/n #haikyuu x reader #cw smoking #cw possessiveness #cw daddy kink #cw manipulation #cw toxic relationship #haikyuu!! x reader #🤍.tendo

198 notes · View notes

nillabeam · 4 years

Text

strange magic

synopsis: sex pollen quirk? sounds fake. until you realize it isn’t. it’s totally real. not only is it totally real but it’s effecting you AND your fellow pro hero, Ground Zero.

pairings: bakugoxf!reader

warnings: it’s smut so 18+, language but that’s a given, slight violence and a brief blood mention, characters are also aged up

a/n: based on this request!! it’s a lot different than libido in terms of like, content lmao, but the situation is similar sort of?? idk hopefully it’s not completely terrible bc i felt like i was a bit rusty writing this?? also excuse my overall writing ability and bad grammar <333 also there’s like a little tiny bit of fluff at the end!!!

“Give up already!”

Ground Zero barks, threatening sparks emitting from his palms. He was standing a few feet away from a woman, hysterical and clearly enraged by something he honestly didn’t care enough about to remember. Something about a cheating husband, maybe? Whatever, one thing he did know was that this lady just stabbed a guy in the middle of a popular park and if he didn’t hurry the poor cheating bastard would be dead soon.

The woman pressed her heel into the victims chest, he yelped pathetically in response. “I said get away from me! This son of a bitch is going to get everything he deserves!”

“Not happenin’ lady. Bastard or not you can’t just fucking stab people because you feel like it!” Ground Zero snaps back, he shifts his weight forward.

“He has to pay! I’ll make him pay!” She screams, turning the knife in her hand, her heel digging further into the victims chest, it was becoming increasingly apparent that Ground Zero had to make his move soon.

“Shut up and listen! Drop the knife or you’re gonna end up worse than that asshole!” He threatens, muscles tensing, ready to explode forward and overwhelm the woman if she didn’t comply.

“I’ll slit his goddamn throat don't you da-” She’s interrupted by your hand gripping her wrist bending it backwards in an unnatural direction. The movement makes her cry out and drop the blade. She tries to take the knife back but a swift jab of your elbow to her nose sends her reeling backward onto the floor.

“You bitch! That really fucking hurt!” Her hands grip her face, trying to suppress the heavy flow of blood now streaming from her broken nose.

“Shut up! You should have listened to me when you had the chance!” Ground Zero is suddenly beside you, he extends a fist and you meet it with yours, resulting in a friendly fist bump. “Nice elbow, Rookie.” He comments, impressed.

“Nice diversion.” You reply, leaning down to restrain the woman. “The police will be here soon so we should help-” You’re interrupted by a strange purple mist clouding your vision.

“What the hell is this shit?” Ground Zero asks, fanning his hand in front of his face, trying to push away the mist. “Her quirk?” You suggest, landing a quick precise blow to the woman’s neck, incapacitating her. The mist dissipates, having only reached you and the other hero.

“Hope it’s not some kind of defensive response. Like poison or something.” You worry for a second before standing, waving the remaining fumes away. “It’ll take more than some fucking purple bullshit to kill me.” You squint your eyes at him, an amused smirk finding your lips. “That sounds like something someone who gets killed by purple bullshit would say.” You quip, amused despite the looming danger of being exposed to an unknown quirk. A devious smirk finds his lips.

“If it kills me, it’s killing you too so I guess I’ll see you in hell, asshole.”

----------------

“They said they’ll get back to us once they figure it out. Also they said we can go home but we have to stay put, since we feel okay, oh, and also to call if we suddenly feel like we’re dying.” You explain, clicking the comm. in your ear off.

“Great. So we can die at home instead.” He mocks, rolling his eyes. You lift your arms above your head to stretch them, sore from a day of hero work. “I’m perfectly fine with going home early, maybe I won’t die and I can catch up on laundry.” You move past him toward the locker rooms, more than ready to change out of your hero costume.

“Oi, Rookie!” He calls out.

You turn to face him, still walking backwards toward your destination.

“Good work today.”

You can feel your cheeks heat up at the compliment.

-----------------

Once you finally changed into your civilian clothes you walk into the lobby, distracted, hand in your purse fishing for your phone. You smack into something hard. “O-ow.” You mumble, scrunching up your face in discomfort, hand reaching up to rub your nose trying to alleviate some the pain.

“Watch it, Rookie.”

The voice is familiar and you realize you’ve hit a person. More specifically, Ground Zero. Or Bakugo, as you knew him when the two of you weren’t busy being heroes. “Bakugo, sorry I was-” You un-scrunch your face so you could see properly. You should have closed your eyes and ran away instead because the sight in front of you would prove to be too much for your stupid brain to handle.

He stood before you, bag slung easily over his shoulder, the fabric of his expensive looking dress shirt clung perfectly to his impressive chest and biceps. Your eyes trail down the length of his lean body, his other hand shoved into his dress pants, perfectly ironed, and the way they showed off his thick powerful thighs nearly had you drooling. It’s becomes painfully obvious that you’re ogling him.

You’d forgotten there was a staff meeting earlier that morning and he was dressed nicer than usual. Yet, you’d seen him before all dressed up like this, so why was the sight of him making you feel hot now?

“My eyes are up here, pervert.”

His gruff voice snaps you out of your trance, you snap your head up to meet his fierce stare. Your entire face now covered in a thick blush. “I-I wasn’t looking at anything-” You lie, pushing past him. He takes a second to do some looking of his own, his eyes fixed on the swell of your ass as you walk away from him.

You stand impatiently outside the agency, fiddling with your phone, trying to push the image of Bakugo’s perfect body our of your mind. You take a quick look over your shoulder, making sure the blonde hadn’t followed you out. The sound of a honk made you turn attention to the company car that pulled up ready to take you home and save you from your own embarrassment.

Sliding into the backseat you offer a nervous smile, “S-Sorry thank you-” You’re interrupted by the force of someone pushing you into the space of the empty seat next to you. “Move over, Rookie.” The voice makes you tense, and you lose your balance falling back awkwardly into the empty seat. Your hands moving to tug the hem of your skirt down as not to expose yourself.

“W-What?” You sit up properly, adjusting in your seat. “Get your own car.” Your tone laced with false confidence immediately ruined by his ruby orbs peering down on you.

“Quit whining.” He snaps, shoving you further over with his large frame. “Drive.” He instructs and to your horror the car starts moving. You push against him with both hands, shoving him back over to his side. “Keep your dumb giant body over there.” He lets out an amused ‘tch’ and leans back in his seat. A stretch of awkward silence fills the air and it takes a second for you to relax in your seat.

There’s an obvious tension between you two, it’s thick and heavy and it makes Bakugo’s chest tighten. He decides against his better judgement, to find out if you were feeling just as fucking needy as he was.

Bakugo keeps his attention fixed on the window, but experimentally spreads his legs, his knee hitting yours. You take the bait like a fool. Shifting away from him, your mouth opens to lecture him about personal space but your jaw snaps as your eyes fix on the prominent bulge in his slacks. It finally dawns on you that he’s not even hard, he’s just that big.

“Shit-” You mutter out loud. Panic covers your features at your sudden lack of filter and you force yourself to look up, not surprised that Bakugo’s glaring down at you. “Keep looking at me like that, Princess, and i’ll get the wrong idea.” The pet name makes you rub your legs together in anticipation, why were you being so desperate right now? Suddenly, you felt the overwhelming urge to rip those stupid pants right off of his body and slip his cock in your mouth.

“I’m not!” You blurt out the obvious lie, covering your flushed face before smacking your head on the window in a feeble attempt to physically knock the sinful thoughts out of your mind. You were finding it increasingly difficult to focus on anything but the man beside you, he let out a dark chuckle at your embarrassment.

You glance over again and he rolls his hips slightly, purposefully, as he notices you sneaking another peek. “Oi!” He grips your face in his hand, roughly squeezing your cheeks together, you whimper at his force and you see his eyes widen a bit at the sound.

“What did I just fucking say, Princess?” You move your hands up to pry at his wrist to loosen his grip but he won’t budge. Your eyes betray you and you look down again. You swear his pants are even tighter then before and your tongue rolls out of your mouth at the sight, practically salivating.

“Oh fuck-“ Bakugo groans unable to keep himself from shoving his fingers into your open mouth. Your mouth shuts immediately and you begin to suck harshly against his slender digits. “Shit, you’re so fucking needy.” He began rhythmically pushing his fingers deeper into your mouth, eliciting a gag as he reached the back of your throat. You were actually drooling now, all over yourself and his hand, but you continue to take his fingers greedily. They actually tasted better than you could have imagined, they had a slight sugary sweetness to them.

Pulling his fingers from your warm mouth, he watches as excess saliva drips out, you unable to stop it due to his vice grip on your cheeks. His gaze darkens at the sight and he’s looking at you with a hungry need that makes you rub your legs together. Leaning forward enough to feel his breath fan your face, he smirks darkly, chewing his bottom lip in anticipation.

“Such a mess for me already and I haven’t even touched you yet.” He teases, his nose brushes against yours and you lean forward, whining when he pulls back just enough that he’s just out of reach. You clutch the fabric of his dress shirt in both hands, trying to pull him closer to you. “Bet you’d like that huh, Princess?” he asks, and you can’t help but nod like an idiot. You feel his grip on your face loosen a little.

His tongue lolls from his mouth slightly, per his instincts and he leans in, unable to control himself any longer, ready to taste that cute mouth of yours when the driver clears his throat rather loudly.

The two of you freeze, hyperaware of your surroundings. Bakugo pulls his hands away and you nearly fall forward.

“We’ve arrived, Miss.”

You wipe the spit off of your face as quickly as you can, and you stare at Bakugo in horror. “I-uh-” Your brain fails you as you try to form coherent sentences. Grabbing your bag from the floor you scramble out of the car shouting a ‘thank you’ to the driver as you leave Bakugo in the car alone, with his lewd thoughts, raging hard on and a very polite driver.

It takes him a second to snap out of his daze fully and by then he’s already a few blocks down the street. “Fuck-” He grips the passenger and driver side seats and leans forward so he can see the driver. “Stop the fucking car.” The driver looks confused, “S-Sir?” Bakugo is looking over his shoulder through the backseat window and the tightening in his chest worsens as he continues to get further and further away from your apartment.

“I said stop the fucking car.” He snaps again and the driver begins to slow the vehicle down to stop. But Bakugo being the impatient little shit that he is exits the car before it can even stop properly leaving the driver thoroughly annoyed and maybe a little bit flustered.

He starts a normal pace once he’s out of the car but it’s not long before he breaks out into a full sprint toward your place.

You’re clutching your chest, trying to calm yourself, but the urge to slip your hands between your legs to relive some tension overwhelming you. Every time you try to think of something besides the goddamn porno scene in the car your brain throws it right back at you.

Just as you hike up the front of your skirt ready to finish the job yourself when violent banging on your door makes you scream pathetically in surprise. You throw it open immediately. It’s Bakugo. Thank heavens it’s Bakugo. His face flushed, thin layer of sweat glistening in the afternoon light.

“You too?” He asks breathlessly.

“Yeah.” You respond, equally dazed.

“Fuck.” You say simultaneously.

You blink and his large hands are gripping your biceps to pull you toward himself and his lips crash hungrily against yours. He walks you both forward enough to shut the door behind him with his foot. His hands move to your waist and he spins you both around shoving you back against the door, his palms pressing against it, arms caging you in.

“What are you doing to me?” He asks, there’s a mixture of jest and seriousness in his voice. He tugs his dress skirt collar open exposing more of his neck and chest in an attempt to cool himself down.

Now he’s done it. You can’t help yourself any longer, and you lick a hot stripe up his neck, before doubling back to pepper desperate kisses against it. A low throaty groan escapes him and your fingers fumble as you begin to unbutton his dress shirt completely. He watches as you undress him, his tongue darting from between his lips wetting them before he leans down to capture you in another needy kiss. Shrugging the shirt off of his body, he begins to unbuckle his belt.

You pull back for air, eyes wandering to his clothed member, eager for to see him, to taste him. He can see it too, the want, the need in your eyes. It matches the look in his own, vermillion and glassy. Your self control wavers again and you drop to your knees pulling his slacks down with a few good tugs, they were as tight as they looked.

Finally, his cock is free and of course it’s bigger than you thought, you take a moment to admire it before slipping it into your mouth. He hisses at the sudden warmth, both hands tangling into your hair, the dull pain against your scalp elicits a moan and you feel him shudder as he tries to compose himself.

“Couldn’t wait to suck my-” His breath hitches, an unintentional whimper falling from his lips as you move to take the entirety of him, cheeks hollowing as you greedily suck his cock. His hips rut involuntarily and you gag around him, the feeling of your throat around his aching cock almost send him over the edge.

Your movements are desperate and sloppy, moaning and mewling against him like his cock is the best thing you've ever tasted. You make eye contact and notice he’s having a hard time keeping his cool. His face flushed a dark pink, panting, low groans falling easily from him lips.

You’re honestly quite pleased with yourself.

With a sharp tug he pulls you off of his dick, excess saliva drips from your mouth and you look up at him confused. He presses the pad of his thumb against your tongue and you open your mouth wider for him.

“You’re being such a greedy little slut.” He comments, a smirk finding his lips, his hands move to grip the front of your dress shirt and he pulls you up off of your knees, tearing the shirt in the process. The second you’re standing he pulls you into another kiss, hot and blistering. His hands searing against the plush skin of your chest, he lingers at the lacy cups of your bra before activating his quirk just enough to burn the fabric away. The sound startles you a bit but the feeling of his hands expertly kneading at your breasts makes it hard to concentrate on anything else.

He pulls one hand away replacing it with his lips, when he pulls away to give your other side the same attention his teeth lightly drag against the tender bud forcing a moan to spill from your lips. Your fingers dip down under your skirt to give your mess of a pussy some much needed attention. Your frustration is only made worse when Bakugo catches your wrist in his hand.

“Did I say you could touch yourself, slut?” He growls, you look up at him, still trying to pry your hand out of his grip. “Then you touch me.” You command weakly, voice dripping with want.

He can wait, he can. He’s trying to act like he’s completely in control. Like he isn’t burning up with desire, like he can hold out a little longer.

He can’t.

“F-Fuck.” He spins you around, pinning you against the door, thankfully you were able to put your hands up to keep from slamming your face into it. He pushes your skirt up and it bunches at your waist, you hear a loud ‘rip’ and he’s tossing what’s left of your panties on the floor. He teases the head of his cock along your dripping slit, you wiggle your ass impatiently.

He finds purchase on your hips before sliding into your soaking core. “S-So fucking tight, shit..” He mumbles to himself. You cover your mouth stifling a groan as you feel his cock stretch you out. His fingers dig into your hips harder and you’re certain they’ll bruise. He gives a shallow thrust, and you bite your lip to suppress another moan. His hands move to grip your arms where they bend, pulling them back toward him.

“I want to hear those dirty little moans, Princess.” You can't see his face but you can hear him smirking. You don’t have time to object as he begins thrusting into you, his pace brutal, your legs nearly buckle beneath you. But he’s strong enough to keep you steady. It doesn’t take very long for your orgasm to sneak up on you, each drag of his cock only worsens the feeling of impending pleasure building inside you. “I’m so close..” You whimper breathless, and he adjusts his grip. Both of your wrists are in his hand now, still trapped behind your back, his free hand moving to rub messy circles into your puffy clit pushing you closer and closer to your release.

“Cum for me, cum all over my cock like a good little slut.”

His skillful and calculated thrusts, mixed with his fingers teasing your clit and his permission to cum overwhelm you. “F-Fuck, Bakugo!” Your orgasm washes over you more violently than you were expecting, you’re a mess, whining and moaning incoherent praises. The feeling of you constricting so perfectly around his cock has Bakugo not far behind you, he releases your arm, and it hurts to move them, but you press your palms flat against the door as he adjusts himself his grip returning to your hips, his thrusts become more sloppy and erratic as he’s coming undone.

“S-shit, Princess, I- haah- I’m close.” He nearly whines, you begin to push back against him, doing what you can to match his movements. “Cum inside, Bakugo.” You command, your voice is smooth and breathy.

“Fuck-” You groan in unison as he fills you with hot ropes of cum, he falls forward a little, one hand on your hip the other against the door to steady himself as he rides out his high, his hips still gingerly thrusting into you. When he’s finished and you’re satisfied and full, he slowly pulls out, hissing at the overstimulation.

You both take a moment, still processing what happened. Bakugo lets out an amused huff of air and your glance over your shoulder.

Well this was new.

Sure, Bakugo knew his recovery time was amazing but never instantaneous. You glance down nervously at his still fully hardened cock, eyes widening at the sight. You dare to meet his gaze, hazy and piercing.

Without warning, Bakugo slides two fingers into your still dripping cunt, you whimper, pressing against the door with more force. He chuckles darkly and it matches his devilish smirk. You were suddenly hit with the realization that your night was far from over.

“I’m going to fucking ruin you, Princess.”

BONUS:

The two of you lie in bed, exhausted and completely fucked out. You’re nearly asleep, resting comfortably on Bakugo’s firm chest as he rubs slow, soothing circles against your soft skin.

It’s interrupted by your phone, the loud ring tone makes you both cringe. He reaches to answer it, you open your mouth to object partly since it’s your phone and partly because the loss of contact but honestly you’re too tired to truly argue about it.

“Y/N’s phone.” He answers, voice slightly hoarse.

“Oh yeah?” He glances at you with a smug smirk.

“I think we’ve figured that part out-” You put two and two together and realize it's probably someone from the agency informing you on the unknown quirk you were both hit with earlier.

“Yeah, thanks for nothing.” He says his tone slightly irritated.

“One more thing, have whatever paperwork I need to document a workplace relationship on my desk in the morning.” He instructs and hangs up the phone. Your eyes widen a little and he thinks it’s cute how hopeful you look.

You chew your lip a little, “Is that paperwork for us?” You ask weakly, and he rolls over so he’s on top of you, arms caging you in.

“Of course it is, stupid.”

Your nervousness disappears the moment his lips meet yours.

#bakugo x reader #bakugo imagine #bakugo smut #bakugou smut #bakugo katuski x reader #bnha smut #mha smut #bnha imagines #bakugou x reader #mha imagines #nillabeamwrites #realgarfieldgirl

3K notes · View notes

stuff-from-the-void-matron · 3 years

Text

Laurel Wreaths & Animal Teeth (4)

(c!Technoblade x fem!Reader)

(people seem to like this for now but remember, no reblogs/comments then i’m gonna assume people lost interest. so show u enjoy this please!! <3 also someone drew fanart of Reader, check it out at the bottom! :3c)

-------------

“Come ON Wilbur! Come with me to check out the huge village I found the other week!” shouted Tommy while making sure to get in his older brother’s way as much as possible. He figured if Wilbur was focused on him and not whatever ‘super important’ shit he was busy with then he’d join him.

Wilbur meanwhile was doing everything he could to sidestep and ignore said younger brother. Now usually he’d humor the much younger boy but Wilbur was sorta busy at the moment. There’s been murmurs of unrest within the L’manburg territory lately since new faces have joined their country.

Apparently they weren’t happy about the fact that Wilbur was a self appointed president, and likened him to a dictator because of it since no one got a say in his leadership role. Which Wilbur thought was highly unfair. He’d fought tooth and nail for his country, so they could have and enjoy all the freedoms to do as they pleased without Dream and his cronies breathing down their necks.

Everything he did he did for his country. But he didn’t want them to see him as some unsympathetic tyrant who didn’t listen to his people. He’s not Dream, he actually listens when they speak, even when they say they don’t like his self appointed role as president. So yes, Wilbur was sort of busy with more important things than goofing off and finding some random village. But instead of snapping he just sighed and said,

“Tommy, I’m working. We’re supposed to be running a country, remember?”

The aforementioned boy let out an aggravated sigh, he knows they have a duty to L’Manburg, he’s not stupid! But he also knows they need to be allowed to have some fun now and again too! Or they’ll go crazy! And Tommy was sure Wilbur would go mad if he stayed cooped up inside all the time working! So this was his way of dragging his brother out for his own good.

But Wilbur was being especially stubborn (wonder where Tommy got it…) and was refusing to budge.

“I don’t have time right now Tommy! Ask Tubbo or Fundy to tag along. I’m sure they’d love to go vandalize a village with you,” Wilbur distractedly said as he wrote down some notes in one of his books.

Tommy was tired of fighting Wilbur on this and decided to hell with it, he’d just take the L this time. So he scoffed and said “Whatever” in the most pissed off teen voice he could physically summon and turned away from Wilbur and stormed out of the brunet president’s house, making sure to slam the wooden door as hard as he could on his way out.

It seemed like all Wilbur did was mope around and WORK since they’d won independence from the Dream SMP. What the hell was the point of even FIGHTING for said freedom if Wilbur wasn’t even going to enjoy it??

Tommy pushed those thoughts away and went to search out Tubbo, he could always count on his best friend to follow him into some mischief! Unlike SOME people. And thankfully it didn’t take the rambunctious blond long to find his friend, and with a grin he ran and jumped on the shorter boy, making him yelp in shock and nearly fall. But then Tubbo saw who it was and started laughing and shoving the taller boy away half heartedly. But after goofing around a bit Tommy remembers why he’d searched out Tubbo in the first place.

“Oi Tubbo, come with me to this weird village I found the other week. I was gonna explore it when I found it but Wilbur said there was an emergency and I had to leave before I could,” he said as they both walked along the main path.

“Yeah sure, but why was it ‘weird’? Was it one of those ones that’s built somewhere stupid like half on a cliff?” Tubbo asked with a laugh.

The two laughed and Tommy explained that the village just looked different? Like there was no cobble! Which was ridiculous because in his opinion that was the best part of villages was all the cobble buildings. Not that he was biased or anything like an American.

But Tubbo just laughed and said sure, they could go check it out. He didn’t have anything else important to do today anyways. Tommy gave a triumphant ‘yeah!!’ because at least he got ONE of his friends to not be a total loser and go out to have some good old fashioned fun with him.

Tubbo told him to lead the way so they were off.

-0-

Many blocks away in your village you were getting out of your ‘shower’, which was really just a waterfall hidden by thick trees and hanging vines behind your temple home. But it was the best shower you’d ever used thanks to how the water fell over you in huge sheets. You’d honestly stay in it for hours if you didn’t hate being bored just standing there. But you did get bored, so you got out and began drying off.

Once you were dry you started getting dressed in your usual outfit, then once done you paused before reaching down to grab the newest item of your outfit..

Your mask.

...

After your… horn discovery the week before you’d just laid in bed all day for a couple days. Not leaving your temple for any reason, not even to shower or eat. You’d have been feeling worse if you’d actually needed food but thankfully you didn’t, so when you finally got your ass in gear and got up to bathe you only felt marginally like shit. At least you had until you went to go bathe…...

But on that first day up you’d just stared at yourself in the reflection of the water and sighed. You didn’t have the urge to cry anymore, so that was a good thing. But you also weren’t a fan of the new horns or glowing eyes you’d had since ending up here. You weren’t even sure what KIND of horns these were?? And… call you crazy but you SWEAR they were bigger than they were before your stint laying in bed..

They’d only been little nubs before, not even as big as your thumb! But now they were at least five inches long and sort of splitting at the tips? It looked weird and honestly felt even weirder what with that velvety texture covering them. You made the foolish mistake of grumbling to yourself,

“Things couldn’t get weirder, right?”

And as if the universe heard you… you discovered a new ‘appendage’ on your body while you started to wash your body off. You’d been lost in thought, just scrubbing yourself with a soapy washcloth when you’d started reaching around to wash your back, your washcloth brushed against something protruding from the base of your spine, right above your ass. This time you didn’t start panicking, you think you were still worn out from the days previous, so instead of freaking out you just slowly craned your neck around to see if you could glimpse the...thing.

A tail.

You blinked, shocked but also.. confused? What in the absolute fuck? Why? When?? This time there was no sobbing or breakdown, you were honestly just puzzled. Are you ever going to STOP growing animal traits or what? Under any other circumstances you might even call the tail cute. It was small, probably just smaller than your hand and about the same shape too. And the majority of the top of it was the same color as your hair, but the sides (and underside after you got curious enough to look under it) were a soft white. With how you were in water the tail looked rather unimpressive and you couldn’t identify what kind of tail it was, but if it was at all connected to the horns then maybe deer? Or caribou? Reindeer? The last two seemed more likely since those animals’ females actually grew antlers you think.

Having to adjust to all this new shit practically every other day was giving you a headache. With a tired sigh you rubbed the area around the base of your antlers, soothed slightly by how the action dulled your headache. But you couldn’t ignore the issue at hand, so you swallowed down your unease and instead just decided since you couldn’t control these… unnatural features then.. well, you’d just cover them up or since that wasn’t possible for the horns now you’d just disguise them?

You’d been stumped for a while on how to even DO that but eventually you’d gone down to the village to feed the animals and you’d watched the armorer leave his house to get started working for the day. And you’d noticed the mask he wore pushed up on his forehead. That’s when the idea for a mask hit you. But you didn’t know how to make or even craft a mask, so you’d gone to the armorer and asked him about it. It was hard to grasp what he was saying clearly but after the months living with the villagers you’d picked up some stuff and could understand them some.

So you let him show you how to make a standard iron mask like his, though the first one he’d made hadn’t fit you in the end so he’d made a second after tweaking the size a bit so it’d fit your face right, since your face shapes weren’t the same. But you were thankful and said so after you put it on. Though the eye holes still revealed your eyes, which you didn’t like. You asked how hard it would be to put reflective lenses in them to prevent your eyes from being seen.

That question turned into the armorer calling over the cartographer, the stonemason, and the shepherd oddly enough to help him out. They were murmuring and crowding around the armorer’s workstation while you watched from the edge of the porch where you sat idly. You didn’t want to hover over them like some busybody, so you sat patiently to see what they came up with together.

And after a while your patience was rewarded when they came over to show you the fruit of their collaboration. And it surprised you how gorgeous it was, which wasn’t fair since you had 4 skill masters working on it together for you.

The mask was actually very beautiful.

It was a white half mask that only covered your eyes, forehead, and upper nose/cheeks but left the lower half of your face bare. And you think it was simply painted white because it felt about as heavy as iron, but the part that amazed you was how it almost looked Venetian in design. On the forehead of the mask was a golden sun, and golden floral swirls came from the corners of the mask and curled near the cheeks and sides of the sun on the forehead, making the mask look elegant and almost vintage.

But the best parts in your opinion were the glass lenses in the eye holes. They were reflective and the same colors as your banner! You don’t know how the villagers did it but the edges of the lens were a goldish orange and the color faded into a violet in the center. You worried you wouldn’t be able to see through them but when you put the mask on you realized the lens only gave things a VERY slight blue/grey tint. So slight in fact that you could fully ignore it if you wanted.

And the second best part was some of the floral swirls actually swirled UP past the top edge of the mask and rested against your horns, giving the illusion that they were somehow part of the mask. Actually with the mask on you could almost trick yourself into thinking you were just wearing a cool looking Mardi Gras mask!

You clapped your hands in glee and couldn’t help the excited sound you let out as you gushed and told them it was perfect! They all let out bashful happy murmurs and generally looked shyly pleased with your praise. You tried to give them each some emeralds but they refused to take them, grunting and shaking their heads each time you attempted to push the gems towards them. Eventually you gave up and resigned to accepting the mask as a gift, but you’d definitely do something nice for them later, to make up for their hard work.

…

You’d taken to wearing the mask at all times when not in the privacy of your temple. Which wasn’t very hard to get accustomed to. The mask was lightweight and the lenses honestly helped shield your eyes from the glare of the sun so win/win. And it also made your horns, in your opinion at least, less in your face. Which was good because they were definitely still growing. You could tell. And the split in the tip was now more pronounced, making you wonder if they were like… reindeer antlers? It would fit with the tail currently growing out the base of your spine, said tail that now looked REALLY like a fluffy little deer tail since the hair/fur on it had dried.

One good thing was that your tail wasn’t long or huge and could actually be hidden relatively easily under a shawl you tied around your waist. So that was one less thing to worry about. Though your life would infinitely be easier if you didn’t have to deal with all this inhuman bullshit. But you supposed life wasn’t fair and expecting it to be was foolish.

“At least I’m not part some weird animal like an aardvark or something…” you mumble to yourself, trying to view this whole thing in a ‘glass half full’ sort of way.

You’d decided to relax and unwind from your recent discovery by just taking things easy for a while. First day since you got the mask and such you just chilled and started a small farm for yourself. You didn’t need the food but the process of building the farm and toiling the earth and then sowing the seeds was actually pretty therapeutic. The repetition of it all was pretty calming. Just you, your gardening tools, and the earth beneath your feet.

The days following were pretty much the same. You’d tend your garden first thing in the morning after your shower, then you’d go off to find something else easy to fill your time. You took up feeding the animals, making flower boxes and planters around the town to make it more colorful, potion brewing, and even fishing. Which was what you were doing right now actually.

You were sitting on the edge of the pond next to your temple, bare legs in the cool water and your back resting against the side of another grass block, an enchanted fishing rod you’d traded the town fisherman for sitting stuck in the ground next to you while you relaxed. The day was actually quite beautiful and nice. Sun streamed down over you from between the bamboo behind you, fluffy fat bees buzzed overhead as they hunted lazily for pollen, and you were close to dozing off.

“Hnn! Hnn! Hnnn!!”

At least you would have dozed off if you hadn’t heard one of the villagers sorta freaking out. You looked up and saw one of the farmers panickedly shuffling about at the top of the small hill to your left. You wondered if zombies got into the village again? But no it was sunny out, they’d be burning if they did. Illagers maybe? But how would they have gotten around the bamboo and prickly berry bushes?? Well there wasn’t anything else for you to do than do see what was wrong.

You put away your fishing rod, got up and dusted yourself off before hurrying up the hill after the villager. You trailed after them down the lantern lit path but so far didn’t see anything, but you perked up when you heard telltale sounds of one of the iron golems fighting something and taking damage. That put some urgency in your gait and soon you were running to see what was going on. You rush past the fletcher’s home and then the cartographer’s right after but nothing. Then you finally round the corner where the market is set up and see at the very end of the path next to the cleric’s church is the altercation.

You sprint down the path, yelling for the villager’s to stay inside until you ring the town bell as you run past them. You hear the doors slam closed behind you and you manage to get to the problem right as your iron golem gives one last cry before getting poofed. You gasp sadly and then glare when you hear cheering. A blond boy that was shorter than you hopped down from a dirt block tower and scooped up the fallen iron ingots the poor iron golem dropped upon its death.

You were so pissed that you ignored the nagging feeling in the back of your focus that said this kid looked familiar. It wasn’t until he finally turned to look at you that it hit you. Holy shit this kid looked… and sounded.. like that minecraft youtuber, TommyInnit.. Like eerily so. You’re glad you’re wearing your mask so he can’t see the deer in headlights (*ba-dun-ts*) look on your face at the sight of him. And your shock didn’t fade with him speaking. If anything it reinforced the idea that this kid was weirdly reminiscent of that youtuber.

“Holy fuck! You are a MASSIVE woman. Wait, who the fuck are you?!” he said in a loud tone of voice as he looked up at you. It made your eyebrows furrow. You were NOT that big! He was just short! You even crossed your arms and told him so, which earned a snicker from the little brown haired boy in dark green overalls next to him. The blond boy scoffed, looked fully offended, snarked back that you were about the same height as a ‘bloody fuckin’ iron golem!’ so yes you were huge.

You glared at the little TommyInnit look alike and instead of arguing about your height you started scolding both boys, which they hadn’t really.. expected? At least from the surprised looks on their faces (which still had the roundness that came from baby fat). The brunet rubbed his elbow and sort of toed the dirt under his feet while the blond crossed his arms and almost looked to be pouting from the scolding.

“My height isn’t the issue here! The issue is you two barging into my village, killing one of my iron golems, stealing the loot from it, and scaring my poor villagers!! What in the hell were you two thinking?”

The blond tried to cut in, to defend himself but he barely got out the first syllable before you held up your hand to signal for him to silence himself as you snapped,

“I do NOT wanna hear it! You treat others this way?? Like they’re nothing, like their possessions and peace of mind don’t mean a damn thing?! Shame on you both!!”

By the end the two boys looked properly scolded. The brunet wondered if THIS is what it felt like to get scolded by one’s mother, and if it was then he’d like to avoid it for the remainder of his life. And the blond meanwhile actually didn’t have anything to say, or more accurately he didn’t know what to say to not feel like he was in massive trouble.

You meanwhile were just annoyed at this point, so you held you hand out (causing both boys to give you wondering looks) before you demanded the iron ingots that the blond stole from your slain iron golem. He got all in a huff, saying he earned them and they were just ingots- but you slapped that train of thought down with an angry,

“EARNED?? More like STOLE! After you killed my iron golem! Now give them back! I have to use them to make a new golem to protect this village.”

The blond sputtered, face blooming red at being blatantly called out on his theft, before muttering in embarrassment and pulling the ingots out and practically tossing them at you. You caught them and returned them to your inventory before shaking your head at the two and saying they should leave if their only goal in your village was to kill and destroy property. The small brunet quickly spoke up and said,

“No wait, we didn’t come just to mess stuff up! We came cuz Tommy said he found this place last week and it wasn’t the usual village so we wanted to explore it.”

Your stomach churned at the name.. Tommy. This was getting weird again. Way too fucking weird. But you resisted clenching your teeth anxiously like you wanted, instead you raised an eyebrow they couldn’t see and shot back,

“Oh yeah? And how did that escalate into killing my iron golem?”

This time it was ‘Tommy’ who cut in and said it had been an accident! They’d apparently been looking around when Tubbo (you felt queasy now after hearing that name too…) started fighting a spider and Tommy came over to help him, but in the process he accidentally hit the iron golem, who got pissed and smacked him.

“I ran from the thing and towered up three blocks! I knew it wouldn’t let up so I had to kill it! S’not my fault the bastard was holding a grudge!!” Tommy said heatedly, arms still crossed defiantly.

You wanted to rub your temples in exasperation but couldn’t without removing your mask. And like hell you were showing these kids your weirdo inhuman eyes. Though… if they really were the characters from.. the videos you got hooked on? Honestly this whole thing was 10 times weirder than the stupid glowy eyes or even the horns or tail.. Like this has to be proof you’re really dreaming or in a coma or something. What other logical explanation could there BE? These kids aren’t real. Nothing here is. It CAN’T be. The real people behind these… minecraft characters? They’re not here. In this place.

Before you could do a kickflip off the edge of your sanity into a full on mental breakdown you took in a calming breath and pushed those thoughts away until you were alone to give it the proper attention. And maybe so you could have your panic attack in peace and quiet. But right now you had two kids causing ruckus in your village. So you just said,

“Yeah alright, fine. I’ll forgive you both THIS TIME. But don’t make a habit of causing trouble in my village. And you can look around and explore, just don’t steal anything or hurt any of my villagers or animals. Got it?”

The two boys nodded, happy to not have you giving them that Angry Adult Tone anymore. So you turned and started walking back to the middle of the village, calling for them to come on. You had to ring the village center bell to tell everyone everything was okay.

Both boys shared a glance before Tubbo smiled and started jogging after you, Tommy right behind him, both curious about you and your village.

------------

(a/n: YOOO SOMEONE DREW READER FANART AND IT’S FUCKING BOMB DUDES CHECK IT OUT!! (Reader looking heavenly~) uwu)

@salinesoot @lady-bee-fechin @kacchasu @putridjoy @lunawritesstories @galaxypankitty3030 @paradigmax @zachariethememerie @killmewithafanfic @trinity-1002107 @hufflepuff-demigod @truthdaze @exorcisms-with-elmo @redbloodtea @heythereimhaylz @olyink @jackalopedoodles @nikkineeky @artsimatsu

#technoblade x reader #technoblade #c!techno #dream smp #dsmp #mcyt x reader #c!tommy #c!tubbo #c!wilbur

352 notes · View notes

whosjunglejim4322 · 3 years

Text

Warnings: werewolf!au if u couldn’t tell, size kink, fingering, hints towards switch xuxi, big wolf boy in luv, reader is on the pill theoretically, mentions of yukhei being insecure, yall in love btw it’s sappy, he cums inside you

Werewolf Yukhei never thought that a person, a human of all creatures, could make him feel so delicate. Your hands are indescribably soft as they cup his warm face, your mouth concise and rythmic with each brush of your lips against his.

It's shockingly easy to be this way with you, the two of you lying together on his couch like a pair of tangled roots, his head just slightly lower than yours as he wraps his strong arms around you further.

He's always been too big, in height and stature. His lumbering limbs have always carried him with a sort of saunter, and though his face may be pretty, once people found out he was part wolf their adoration always fizzled into condemnation.

But you, you.

As someone who had coexisted with shapeshifters nearly all of your life, with close family friends ranging from Werewolves- like him - to Vampires, and even some Fae, he shouldn't have been surprised when you treated him as though he was no different than anyone else you'd ever interacted with.

He still remembers the first time he kissed you, in his car after the sun had already decided to rest and give the stars a chance to say hello to the onyx sky. He had wanted to do it all night, the need becoming an overwhelming knot in the pit of his abdomen.

He and his wolf alike were struck with the immediate sensation of buzzing all throughout his veins, and when he pulled away, he could see the reflection of his topaz orbs in your eyes, glowing.

He almost immediately covered his face, head in hands as he began to furiously rub at his sockets, willing the fire to go out behind his irises. He had almost seemed angry at himself, borderline disgusted and then your hands were gripping his wrists with a softness he had never experienced- you said his name as if it were something to be admired.

Something in him had felt defenseless, like he couldn't bear to pull away from you and see the sad pout that would surely form on your pretty lips.

"It's okay, hey," you brought one hand to his sullen face, soft fingers tilting his his chin towards you. "Open your eyes, it's okay Xuxi."

And he believed you, wholeheartedly. He didn't know why but he didn't care to argue, not when you used such a fond nickname without even a second thought, not when he felt so safe to be himself with you.

So he opened his eyes, not having to see them to know they were still illuminated in the darkness of his car. And your expression, fuck, it made his chest ache.

You inclined yourself towards him as if your body had no other choice, like it was second nature to want to be close to him, to be so enraptured. Your thumbs ever so gently had swept the area underneath his eyes, moving to the highpoints of his cheeks as you sat in awe.

"They're so...they're so pretty, like fireflies in the summer. They remind me of home."

He doesn't think he'll ever forget that. The safety he feels in your arms, like right now, it makes it easy for him to pretend like the world doesn't see him as this illusive predator shifter. Like he's just Yukhei.

You kiss him like he's the only person you've ever wanted, which isn't far from the truth considering the way he never ceases to take your breath away. There is a reverence between you two, and you find yourself kissing him with a bit more fervour as you relish in the fact that you get to hold him so close.

He picks up on the slight change in pace as quickly and as naturally as expected, one of his long legs lifting before he drapes it over your waist. He just needs you closer.

His plush mouth falters for a second, as he pulls away just enough to look up into your half lidded eyes. "Too heavy?" He asks, the rough timber of his voice sending more jolts of heat than necessary, through your abdomen.

"N-no." You hope he can sense that your shakiness is due to the flurry of emotions coursing through you, and not because of uncertainty. The corner of his mouth twitches upwards in amusement and fondess, silently answering your question.

Your lips find each other again as your hand grips the meat of his thigh, absentmindedly rubbing the area and reveling in the way his muscles twitch underneath the fabric of his basketball shorts.

This small action has him accidentally groaning into your mouth, long fingers finding the softness of your hips as he pulls you as close as the space will allow.

You don't miss the feel of his stiff erection against your belly, or the way his wet tongue has become more curious as to how your mouth tastes. When your hands wander further up the expanse his lithe body and discover a searing hot patch of skin that has been exposed due to his shirt lifting, your fingers are quick to explore further.

It's not like you did it on purpose, ever so slightly raking the blunt of your nails up his side before exploring the firm, lean surface of his abdomen- it's just as much of a natural urge as it is for him to be rutting against you, like he is now.

You're sure you heard a growl rumble in his throat, and you're elated to see that he's just as worked up as you are- enough to not even notice and have time to scold himself.

For a second, your eyes meet, noses still touching and kiss bitten lips only a few inches apart as you catch your breath.

This time, a ruby set of irises stare back at you, and you know enough about his kind to recognize that this is either due to hunger, lust, or anger. And since you're almost certain he's not angry, and also know that werewolves rarely ever get hungry for prey while they're in human form, the last option is as clear as the obvious lust that is decorating his bronze features.

And so you kiss him again, hard.

He isn't as controlled as he was before, not scared to give in to his hormones or the desires that have him struggling to remain fully here. He's just so captivated by you, the sweet yet ambrosial scent that clings to your skin, the way your body perfectly curls against his.

He can smell your intoxicating arousal as it leaks into your panties, cock jerking in his shorts as you both explore eachothers skin underneath your clothing. He feels the thunderous beat of your heart against his own broad chest, along with the hardening bud of your nipples through your shirt.

"I want you...want you to be mine." He's breathless, which is hard to believe given his supernatural state, but he can't seem to speak in complete sentences. The energy between you two feels as if it's about to burst and ignite a flame. You feel it all over your body.

His raven hair is mussed by this point, skin hotter than a furnace damn near, eyes glossy. Something in you knows that he's not just talking about sex, the way he's looking at you.

His dick is pulsing against you, massive, inviting hands wandering your body as yours are his - but he speaks like he can't bear to let you go.

You quickly wrap your hands around the nape of his neck, soft hair tickling your fingertips as you bring him back in for another passionate kiss, his body shifting as he finds himself crawling on top of you.

The position switch makes it even harder for him, you're so soft, so beautiful as you gaze up at him and paw at his broad shoulders.

Your thighs are open and wrapped around his trim middle, the feeling of his dick against your center all the more tantalizing this way. It doesn't help when he does that thing where he ever so slightly- but purposefully- grinds his hips into yours as if he knows exactly where you need it. You almost forget you're both still clothed.

"You can have me, you know...I want you too." And it's the truth, you've never felt like this, he's so rare, so beautifully unaware and you want him in every way there is to want someone.

His eyes are back to his natural deep shade of chocolate brown, earnest in their surprise and incredulity.

"You really mean it?" You almost laugh in disbelief, wondering how someone like him can be so oblivious to your wide eyes of astonishment everytime you so much as glance at him.

But you know it's not because of his appearance, no, he's aware of how people look at him, how they naturally seem to gawk and wonder how a person can be unnaturally exquisite.

Still, you remind him. "Yes, of course you silly, silly boy."

And you're breathless again, his deft fingers moving down between your bodies to slip underneath the waistband of your leggings, swiftly pulling them off in an inhumanly fast motion.

Your compliance is immediate, a whine slipping past your lips as cool air breezes against your center, your hands clawing at his loose tee shirt in a haphazard attempt to remove it.

He reluctantly pulls his mouth away from yours to sit back on his haunches, lifting his lithe arms behind his back to pull the garment off of his body.

You're not prepared for the way your belly swirls with a new, overwhelming sense of lust at the sight of him so bare. He's warm, and firm yet smooth and inviting- you almost don't register the fact that he's too distracted to notice your reaction.

Not until you feel the warm pad of his thumb rub your swollen clit, both of you realizing, together, that you decided to forgo underwear.

He's got his free hand grasping the inside of your left thigh, holding it open as he practically salivates at the sight of you.

It's too much, for the both of you. There's so many sensations sending your nerves haywire, every inch of your skin tingling with warmth and desire. He can't believe you're so pretty, and his, and the awestruck, hungry expression that's on his face is what prompts you to reach out and grasp his sturdy hips.

"Please fuck me, Yukhei," he's pulled out from a trance into a new one, his eyes catching sight of the agonizing need inside of yours. "want you really bad."

It's unfair, the way he slips two of his long, delicate fingers inside of your aching heat as he leans down to kiss you like a man starved.

You moan properly, and loudly this time, the compelling sound sending him into overdrive as you find yourself suddenly being fucked by his fingers at a near bruising pace.

Even so, he knows what he's doing, and you have to grip onto his daunting shoulders for dear life while he curls the dexterous digits inside of you, touching your cervix and nudging your sweet spot.

He revels in it, the way you look like you're falling apart. His skin blazes to a new temperature and you're leaking onto him like a sweet dessert, soaking his palms. He can't help but to groan.

"Gotta get you ready if you're gonna take my dick."

The words alone leave you clutching after his thick forearm as he pumps into you, slowing his minisrations out of fear that his words might send you over the edge. He doesn't even mean to sound so filthy, at first. Until he realizes how quickly it almost made you lose it.

"Please, please give it to me now."

He sees how badly you need it, can feel it in the form of slick between his knuckles, and if he's honest he's not sure how he's lasted this long either- so he bashfully slips his fingers out of you and pulls his shorts past his knees, not patient enough to get them all the way down.

You see now why he needed to insert his fingers first. He's big. Long, a girth that would be painful if it were any more than what it is. But nonetheless, it's pretty, like the rest of him. The tip is the same, deep muave of his lips, and you reach out for it, needing to touch him as intimately as he has touched you.

He shudders, entire body twitching in pleasure as you wrap your hand around him. Your hand is so much softer than his, and he whines, a sound that has you clenching around nothing. His expression is one that you wish you could photograph just to relive the memory over and over on days when you two aren't together.

"Want me to fuck you now, baby?" You nod fervently, cheeks blazing at the nickname and the softness in which he speaks it. His eyes seem to light up as he leans down to kiss you, allowing himself to absorb every detail of the moment, not wanting to miss even a second.

As soon as his tip passes your entrance, you both know you're fucked. It feels too good, too fast, the stretch is intense but seems to add to the stimulation since your wetness makes the insert easy.

When he bottoms out, he forces himself to stay still for a moment as he holds himself up by his forearms, his face shoved in the crook of your shoulder, lips on your throat.

You feel him pulsing inside of you, and you purposely squeeze your walls around his thick length, whimpering in his ear.

"Please, please move Xuxi."

He doesn't make you wait another minute, sliding himself almost all the way out before pistoning himself back in, jolting you in the process.

He starts his pace, and you're not sure how long you're going to last with the way he's moving, like his hips are speaking to you in some other language all together. He's magnetic, curling his pelvis upwards each time he thrusts back into your sopping entrance.

"Fuuuuck, I'm all the way up there baby." He groans in astonishment, though it's like everytime he speaks your body reacts automatically.

You wrap your arms around his familiar shoulders and hike your thighs up further, prompting him to slip his hands underneath your knees and hold you like this, the position allowing him to fuck you with a new depth.

He refuses to move his mouth away from you still, his messy hair tickling your forehead as your mouths move with fervour.

The sounds in the room are lewd, the collision of your hips and his thick cock slipping in and out of your entrance, along with the smacking of your lips. It's hard to believe that it's all really happening.

"You feel-oh fuck you feel s-so good."

He falters only for a moment as he pants, losing focus as the sound of your voice sends chillbumps to rise across his skin. He hates that he's so close, trying his best to hold on, but you wrap around him so perfectly. He swears you are made for him.

"Gonna cum soon, I can't hold it." His voice trembles this time, and you cling onto him just as desperately as he clings to you, legs locked around his hips. His cock throbs with the need to release, and the sound of your voice as you whimper doesn't help.

"You're so big, Xuxi." The words tumble freely from your mouth, your tongue not able to be held as you look down in between your bodies to see him dissapearing inside of you.

It's like nothing he's ever felt, its all consuming, and even the wolf inside of him is wondering where in the hell you came from, to swoop him up and dazzle him like you did. He's never felt this type of pleasure before, it romances every nerve in his body, turns him into jelly.

It's when he thrusts at a particular angle and your face contorts into an image of pure bliss, tears of ectasy brimming in your glossy eyes, that he feels the coil in his belly finally unravel.

He stills as his lips part, the tip of his dick nudged against your cervix as he fills you to the brim, twitching as he lets out soft, sporatic moans through each sloppy thrust.

"F-fuck- mmm- oh fuck."

His seed is more abundant than the average human male, spilling from you generously and soaking your thighs. The feeling of being so stuffed along with the realization that he's whole and in your arms and you're both connected like this- it has you spiraling down after him.

You feel a warm tear fall down your cheek, the pleasure taking your breath- and your words- away for what seems like the hundredth time in just a short hour. It courses through your entire body and has your hips bucking slightly, skin sensitive to the touch.

He holds you through it, allows you to rock yourself against his half hard cock as you ride your high, his lips suckling any expanse of skin they can find.

He doesn't dare pull out yet, he's too content like this, and you haven't complained about his weight atop of you yet, so he selfishly allows himself to lie his head against your shoulder - button nose nudging your jaw- as your fingers run through his hair.

His arms wrap around your body like a cocoon, and you've never been so comfortable with somebody like this, the contact making you drunk.

"I always knew, you know." His voice is low and sleepy, his lilt genuine. Your breathing begins to syncronize, your fingertips tracing halfhearted patterns against his warm, soft back.

"What's that, hmm?" You reply, curious and with heavy eyes, heart nearly bursting with the adoration you feel fluttering in the pit of your belly.

He kisses your skin once more, gently, almost featherlight.

"That you'd be the one I fall in love with."

428 notes · View notes

handy-dandy-monster-candy · 3 years

Text

Jayson, part One

Rating: SFW Length: 1690 Pairing: Male Croc Lizardman x Male Reader (both cis)

xxx

It’s Latin night at the local community centre, and you’re not sure if the earth is shaking or if it’s just your nerves. It’s your turn to dance with Jayson tonight, the handsome crocodilian lizardman who’s been the centre of attention since your dance classes began. He’s experienced at all sorts of dances, more agile than you’d expect for someone almost eight feet tall, and he’s been sweeping the little old ladies right off their feet—sometimes literally.

You’d initially joined the yoga classes held at the centre, but the time slots didn’t line up with the dance classes, so you never saw head or tail of the lizardman before the night poor old Mr. Grims slipped a disc doing an advanced pose at the end of the session. You decided to stick around with him until the ambulance came, keeping him company until he was loaded up and carted away from the centre towards the hospital a few blocks away.

That’s when Jayson approached you, coffee held in a delicate pincer grip in one hand and speakers held in the other, to ask you what had happened. He had deep green scales and brilliant golden-green eyes, with a body that looked like he could bench you in his sleep. He had a ready smile when he introduced himself to you, and the sympathy in his voice when he learned of Mr. Grim’s accident sounded sincere.

It was no surprise that you gravitated to the event hall after yoga let out that night, and what you saw made you wonder why you’d never considered dancing before. People of all ages and species crowded into the event hall, swing dancing at all skill levels and laughing throughout. It looked fun, and of course Jayson was at the centre of it all, bopping and weaving through the dancers and calling out encouragement and playful critiques. He was one of the instructors, you realised, and on impulse, you signed up for the next week’s class.

Flexibility, you quickly learned after Mrs. MacDougall bent you backwards over her knee, was invaluable in Jayson’s dance class. You thanked your lucky stars that you had decided to take yoga first, or you think you would have ended up in Mr. Grim’s place. Each week, you dance to a different genre, though Jayson always finds a way to put a spin on it. Last week you learned the choreography that Jayson and his fellow instructor Lindsa put together to Doja Cat’s Boss Bitch, which starred some impressive ballet on Lindsa’s behalf. They each pick a different dancer to give special instruction to each week, and this time, it’s your turn to be what feels like the sole focus of the big reptilian man you’ve developed a weak-kneed crush on. When the trumpets start blaring in Ilegales’ song Como Un Trueno, you almost jump out of your skin, and judging by the way Jayson laughs, he’d noticed.

“Alright, from the top!” Jayson calls, his gravelly voice warm and rough with amusement. “Loosen up, Ilario. Greta, sweetheart, go easy on him.”

“He’d better keep up!” Mrs. MacDougall says instead, earning herself a rare laugh from Lindsa on the other side of the room. You watch with sympathy as she drags the aforementioned man out onto the dance floor, looking more like a prisoner gamely meeting his end at the gallows than a willing dance partner.

“Ready?” Jayson asks you, and you wonder how you ever took your eyes off the charismatic reptile.

“As I’ll ever be,” you say, smiling cheerfully up at Jayson and taking his proffered hand.

“You’re shaking like a leaf,” Jason laughs, his feet starting to move along with the serpentine motions of his hips.

“I can’t help it,” you reply around a laugh of your own, following his lead and allowing him to dance you around the room. “I’m nervous.”

“Nervous?” Jayson eyes you incredulously. “You?”

“Yes, me! Everyone’s looking at us.”

“I’m an instructor,” Jayson preens, his pride in his position making you smile again. “They have to look at me.”

“Well, yeah,” you say, concentrating very hard on not stepping on the larger man’s feet. “You’re hard to look away from.”

Jayson grins at this slip. “Am I?”

You curse your distracted tongue, but you don’t regret having this conversation. Yet. “Oh, definitely,” you shoot back, and the smug gleam in Jayson’s eyes makes you want to swat him and kiss him all at once. “You’re so big, how could I miss you?”

“Larger than life, baby,” Jayson replies, picking up the pace and twirling you like a top around him. You’re a little dizzy by the time he urges you into another set of moves, pliable with disorientation and the thrill of letting such a big man take control of your body and manhandle you however he likes. “Just let it happen,” he says in your ear, and he clears a space in the hall for you two to take centre stage.

His hands on your waist are the only warning you get before you’re airborne, your body weaving over his shoulders and between his legs in a way that makes your head spin. You somehow manage to make your feet keep moving when they find their way to the floor again, though it isn’t long before you’re twirled and spun and tossed this way and that. The feel of his muscles through his clothing is a sensation that you’ll not soon forget, and his hands feel like brands wherever they touch, hot and huge and capable. You’ve never trusted someone this implicitly with your safety, and the thrill is enough to leave you breathless.

The song ends in a sharp crescendo of brass and with your body dipped between Jayson’s muscular thighs. Your heart is pounding so hard that you barely hear the applause from the other dancers, your chest heaving and your eyes locked on Jayson’s handsome face. “You okay down there?” he asks, and you want to swat him all over again.

“Thinking I should have worn anything but sweatpants,” you quip back, drawing his eyes down to your erection between you. He straightens and manages to discreetly shield you with his bulk as you rearrange yourself. Jayson seamlessly draws attention to himself and critiques dancers nearby, moving to adjust positions and laughingly reminding others to be more careful of their partners’ feet.

You move away to hide, hydrate, and watch Jayson work the room, so you miss the way that Lindsa weaves toward you until she’s leaning against the wall beside you, asking, “You and Jay-Sun, huh?”

You nearly jump out of your skin. As it is, the water in your mouth goes the completely wrong direction, and you have to accept her help pounding it out of your lungs. “Me and what?” you choke out, eyes watering.

“Oh, don’t jerk me around,” Lindsa says with a sharp smirk, tawny eyes gleaming. She’s unnaturally beautiful even for a harpy, with sandy yellow feathers that match her hair and wide, egg-bearing hips. She’s canny and clever, and though she’s a good and patient teacher, there’s a ruthlessness about her that makes you feel as though you’d be hunted before you’d be courted.

You frown. “I guess,” you say with a shrug. “I like him. What of it?”

“He’ll want to date you,” Lindsa replies without ceremony, idly preening her wing feathers and watching you with unblinking eyes. “I happen to like the guy. Hurt him, and I’ll read your entrails for filth.”

This exchange leaves you entirely flabbergasted—so much so that you spend the rest of class distracted by your thoughts. Jayson notices, and his personality turns up to 11. You find it hard not to smile at his antics and his peacocking amuses you, though you catch Lindsa eyeing you both more often than not for the rest of the session. At the end of the class, Jayson makes a beeline for you and you struggle not to flee under his almost predatory gaze, standing your ground and smiling up at him.

“What’s going on?” he asks without preamble, resting a hand on the wall high above your head. “You’ve been out of your head since we first danced. Did Lindsa get hold of you?”

Your smile falls, and you feel more than a little exposed. Were you that easy to read? “Am I that obvious?” you ask, laughing nervously.

“Hardly,” says Jayson, grinning widely and displaying all his sharp teeth. “More like she’s about as subtle as a brick to the head. She threaten you?”

You nod, speechless.

Jayson snorts and shouts, “Lindsa!” over his shoulder, earning himself a cool look from the intimidating harpy. “Stay out of my love life!”

“I will when you make good decisions,” Lindsa drawls back, and you frown. Are you not a good choice?

Jayson shakes his head, dismissing her and turning his attention back to you. “Don’t listen to the old bird.”

“I’ll turn you into a handbag, Sunny,” Lindsa says without lifting her eyes from the gym bag she’s packing. “And a new pair of boots.”

“As if any part of me could handle those thighs,” Jayson scoffs, waving his hand and smiling down at you. “Like I said, don’t listen to her. She’s just protective of me because I’m younger. Are you free this weekend?”

“Um, yeah,” you say, caught off guard by the banter between the pair and looking between them with something like wariness. Was this going to be an issue?

Jayson notices your unease and leans in close enough that you can look into his eyes and smell his cologne, lowering his voice so only you can hear. “Hey,” he murmurs. “It’s really not a big deal. She does this to everyone I wanna date. Just ignore it and focus on me. Can you do that for me?”

The way he seems to have eyes only for you brings you out of the mire of your thoughts, and you find yourself smiling up at Jayson all over again. “Yeah,” you say. “I can.”

Jayson grins, and you’re surprised to find that lizardmen can have dimples. “Perfect.”

#exophilia #mlm exophilia #gay exophilia #monster romance #monster boyfriend #lizardman boyfriend #lizardman #Jayson #My work

218 notes · View notes

equestrianwritingsstuff · 3 years

Text

Summer of Whump #19: Fear

Warnings: death mention, pills, fever, injured, thermometer

Hero found Villain in a cellar, severely injured. His ribcage was close to crushed and blood was gushing out of mulitple wounds. He was only just conscious, but his breaths were ragged and strained.

"Villain," Hero said, even though she knew that he wouldn't be able to recognize her presence in his state.

She crouched next to him and ran her hand through his sweaty hair. Villain mumbled something that sounded like garbled nonsense than something of actual intellect.

"Shh," she soothed and wrapped Villain into her arms. Without a second thought, she whisked them away to her home using her teleporting powers.

Even as they were still in the tornado of color, Hero was already rushing to her first air kit to stop the blood flow. That nasty Supervillain...

When Hero returned, Villain was awake and pressed against the wall, breathing hysterically.

"Get away from me!" He yelled, defensively. Hero immediately put the first aid kit down and approached Villain with lowered hands.

"I will," she promised, only to say right after, "only if you let me clean you up."

"Never," Villain snapped and lunged forward. He tripped and nearly landed face first, but Hero caught him.

His body convulsed which made Hero's heart lurch in worry. But then he relaxed, melting into Hero's arms. She began to rock him back and forth while very slowly inching towards the first aid kit. Up close, she noticed that many of the wounds had shrapnel stuck in them. She sighed, this was going to hurt.

The first one would've came out easy if it weren't for the fact that Villain pulled out of the way rather quickly. Hero sighed again. Villain had super-strength and speed.

"S-stay away-way," He slurred, but maintained a steady posture.

"I can't do that, you need help," Hero tried to reason, but the villain wouldn't listen. He shook his head wildly.

"Don't, don't, don't," Villain mumbled and put his hands on his forehead, clutching it and swaying. Hero started forward, only to hesitate.

Without another word, Villain ran forward and pushed past Hero. He went over to the door, fumbled with the doorknob and then ran outside.

Hero, shocked, shook the daze out of her eyes. Villain hit her hard. But she wasn't worried about a little bump while Villain was bleeding out on the streets, so she followed him out the door.

She first assumed that he wouldn't be able to get too far, but she was wrong. A mixture of super-strength, speed, adrenaline and fear must've fueled him to get out of there. Hero groaned in annoyance as she teleported around, trying to latch onto Villain. Being able to teleport also granted her the ability to teleport by feeling anyone's emotions and thoughts of those emotions.

Only that wasn't easy when Villain was running around one hundred miles per hour.

Hero squeezed her eyes shut and traveled throughout the city, dipping her hand down into puddles of people's thoughts as she searched for pain and fear, likely the only thoughts running through his head.

Hero squeezed her eyes even harder and concentrated on as a wave of emotions entered her brain and fueled the powerful blood that coursed through her veins.

She could feel her eyes dart around in their sockets as she searched. Searched for two emotions that were tied together that would mean Villain.

Keep on moving, keep on... the thought trailed off, leaving Hero in the dust, but she knew that it was Villain.

Keep on going, gosh this hurts. Pain, pain, pain. Rest, just rest. Who cares if she finds me. I need her help. I am tired, done. Legs, just give up already- the thought was cut off by a loud ringing noise.

Hero's mind threatened to pull away from Villain's, but she held on. Villain had collapsed, she knew this. She also knew that she desperately needed to grasp onto that last straw of consciousness to teleport successfully.

Sleep... let go Villain, let go...

Hero grabbed onto that thought and teleported. She landed on top of a dumpster with a painful thud.

But her determination to find Villain covered the pain. She jumped up and searched frantically around until she spotted a lump next to a pile of cardboard.

"Villain!'" Hero exclaimed, not taking any precautions to make her appearance less threatening. She rushed over to Villain's side and without thought, checked for his pulse.

Her heart started to race when she didn't find it. Maybe she sucked at searching for one? She didn't know, so she reached downwards and put her cheek to Villain's nose.

Soft air blew against her sweaty cheek, cooling it. Hero almost let out a cry in relief until she remembered that Villain was currently bleeding out on her lap.

"Hold on bud," she whispered into Villain's ear. She didn't care that he was incapable of hearing, but it made her feel better about the situation.

The next morning, Villain regained consciousness with a scream, loud and agonizing. It shook Hero, who was drowsily reading a book by his side, to the core.

"Are you okay?" Hero asked, yawning. Villain's pale, ghost-like face was clammy and covered in a thick layer of sweat. Hero looked away, slightly embarrassed to see him look like this. Weak and helpless, completely at the mercy of Hero. Not that she would hurt him. No, she would never to that. She always looked up to him with admiring eyes, as hard as it was to admit it. Seeing him like this was like witnessing your parents cry. It was unnatural and something that she hated.

Villain squinted his eyes and furrowed his forehead. Only that effort seemed to waste too much energy because he relaxed his face and sagged into the pillow again and shivered.

Hero fought the urge to use her hand to check his temperature. It would be a kind gesture- maybe even soothing and would make him feel safe- but Hero knew that Villain would take it the wrong way. She could just imagine extending her hand to him and him freaking out and hurting himself-

A soft whimper drew Hero out of her thoughts. She glanced down at the villain with pity. His eyes seemed to get more and more unfocused as the seconds ticked by. Hero put her hand half-way out. It wouldn't hurt would it?

She place her hand on his burning forehead.

Villain's eyes widened and focused as he tried to pull away, rubbing the cuts on his back. Hero had to face the choice of laying him on his stomach, which would aggravate his ribs, or lay him on his back, which could rip the stitches that Hero spent hours on. He was too weak to lie on his side. She ended up choosing the back for breathing purposes.

But now she really regretted that decision as she heard stitches tear and Villain cry out. Blood started dripping again and all Hero could do was grab Villain's flailing wrists and hold them tightly.

"Stop this," she pleaded with her delirious patient. His gaze flickered to her and watched her movements with suspicion. Hero deftly pushed his arms to his sides and clicked them into the handcuffs. This wasn't the first time that she had cared for an injured person.

Her mind briefly flickered to Sidekick's last week alive. How she struggled and struggled to live, but the deep abdomen wound that... Hero glanced down at the writhing Villain. That Supervillain caused, just like what he did to Villain.

Maybe it would be better to let him suffer. Hero contemplated the idea, weighing the pros and cons (cons being much more) about letting Villain live. Less civilian deaths, less destruction, avenge Sidekick with a fellow villain's death...

But Hero couldn't let someone in pain suffer as they die. She knew how traumatizing it would be for him if he linked Hero's face to this excruciating pain if he indeed lived.

Hero left the scene momentarily to grab a thermometer and tylenol to kick the fever. Her hand lingered over a painkiller too before grabbing that bottle as well.

Villain's eyes were half-lidded by the time Hero returned, but his mouth was clamped shut. She gently opened his lip with the thermometer, but wasn't as successful with slipping it through his clenched teeth.

She sighed and grabbed his jaw, pressing her fingers into his cheek to pry his mouth open. He obeyed, and Hero placed the thermometer under his tongue. Villain's eyes widened at the sudden discomfort, before drooping again. He weakly swallowed the saliva that built up. Hero gingerly rubbed his throat.

The thermometer beeped: 103.9, almost 104. Hero gulped, she needed to lower this fever as soon as possible before it got out of hand. She gently placed the tylenol on Villain's slightly sticking out tongue and dumped some water down his mouth. Villain sputtered and coughed, unable to swallow. His eyes widened in panic and he started writhing around again, pulling against the restraints.

Hero dipped his head back and rubbed his throat.

"Swallow. You can do this," she murmured softly. She wanted to give him the pain meds too, but seeing his inability to do a simple task like swallow, she would have to revert to other means of pain control.

Villain ended up swallowing. His body instantly relaxed as his eyes finished closing. Hero grabbed onto his hand and rubbed in slow, circular motions until his breathing slowed. She smiled, at least alseep he wouldn't hurt.

#summer of whump #protective hero #villain whumpee #fear #tired villain #super powers #hero caretaker #hero x villain #injured #feverish whumpee #day 19 #writing #death mention

72 notes · View notes