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effetsecndaires · 9 months

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— 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐲'𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 (𝐡𝐜𝐬)

INCLUDES | toman members [mentioned: draken, hakkai, mitsuya, pah-chin, peh-yan, takemichi, kazutora, chifuyu, baji.], bonten members [mentioned: takeomi, koko, kakucho, sanzu, ran and rindou haitani]

NOTE | headcanons for toman are set in the final timeline! everyone is in their mid/late 20s, happy & alive :) | request

— TOMAN.

When Mikey shows up with a pregnant lady at his side, most of the gang is stunned into silence. Curious gazes are exchanged, then everyone start whispering among each other, trying to make sense of the situation.

At first, nobody really connects the dots. They all assume you must be a friend in need or someone Mikey found and decided to help. They imagine that Mikey took you under his wing and promised to keep you safe – which would explain why he brought you here. Typical Mikey.

Imagine the absolute whiplash when Mikey starts the meeting by introducing you as his wife.

For some of them (especially Draken), it's kind of a hard pill to swallow.

A wave of realization hits him hard and he suddenly feels like he never really knew Mikey after all. His best friend, whom he hangs out with pretty much every day and has been looking after his whole life, has been married this entire time? He can't help but wonder how he missed all the signs and feels a mixture of emotions as he tries to process those unexpected layers of Mikey's life that he never knew existed.

But once he starts to grasp the reasons why Mikey did it, he begins to feel better about it.

He knows that Mikey has always been a responsible and thoughtful young man. The fact that he kept his wife hidden from the gang because he knew your presence might've made you a target for rival gangs or enemies seeking to exploit the slightest vulnerability in his life only made Draken more admirative of Mikey.

Over time, everyone in Toman gets accustomed to the situation and they all grow closer to you, much to Mikey's delight.

Hakkai has yet to get used to seeing you around all the time, but he tries his best. He really likes you and tries not to freeze completely when you talk to him. It's not easy for him, but he does manage to get a few words out when you start a conversation. It's cute to see him make the effort and face his shyness just to be able talk to you.

Baji and Chifuyu are like your personal bodyguards. They treat you like a younger sibling, always looking out for you and stealing you from Mikey to hang out or help with shopping for the baby.

As for Mitsuya, he'll put all his energy into making his own unique pieces of clothing for the baby. Before your child is even born, he's is already envisioning the most adorable designs to keep the little one cozy and stylish at all times. He'll design all sort of cute outfits, knit baby blankets, baby booties, and maybe even craft some nursery decor, because why not.

Everyone quickly realizes that you are an essential pillar of support for Mikey and they, too, end up finding comfort in your presence.

In moments of stress and anxiety, you always know how to calm them down. A gentle touch on the shoulder or a quick pep talk is all it takes to ease the burden from their shoulders. It's as if you have this innate sense of knowing when people need support the most, and you're always there to lend a listening ear or a shoulder to lean on.

You've practically become Kazutora's best friend and confident, and he often seeks your advice on important decisions. Your bond with him runs deep, forged through shared experiences and the understanding that you have for each other. He knows that you genuinely care about his well-being and will always have his best interests at heart.

After the baby's arrival, Pah-Chin and Peh-Yan turn into the typical pair of bickering uncles, always competing to hold the baby first (because of course, everyone gets to hold your baby at least once a day).

One day, their playful argument escalates and their voices disturb the baby's peaceful sleep, leading to Mikey landing a friendly kick on them, while Draken settles to giving them a rather harsh slap on the back of the head.

In the midst of the chaos, Takemichi eventually gets the privilege of holding the baby first. You could tell he was practically dying to ask, but simply didn't dare to.

You share a special connection with all of Mikey's friends, like a close-knit found family, and each of them wholeheartedly reciprocates your affection.

— BONTEN.

When Mikey holds a meeting to introduce his pregnant partner, the news doesn't really come off as a shock to anyone. Everyone in Bonten is used to sleeping around, and, well, they know that accidents can happen.

Mikey decided to be responsible and keep a prostitute and her baby? Okay, good for him. Maybe not the best decision, but that's none of their business.

What genuinely shocks them however, is finding out that you and your baby are actually far from being a mere accident or casual fling gone wrong.

In fact, you've been Mikey's wife for a little over a year now, and the main motivation behind his decision to introduce you to his gang is to ensure your safety at all times. He can't risk an enemy finding out about you before his allies do, especially now that you're pregnant.

They're not exactly thrilled by the idea of playing babysitter for their boss - but they quickly get used to having you around. (It's not like they have much of a choice anyway)

Takeomi handles you like literal porcelain. He doesn't leave your side, always following you around to make sure you don't trip, fall down the stairs or hurt yourself in any way shape or form.

His attentiveness is primarily driven by your position as the boss's wife rather than personal affection or genuine concern for you, though. He's just doing his job, knowing that any harm happening to you while he's in charge of watching you will result in him getting reprimanded by Mikey. You're a very nice woman, but he'd rather be tasked with more important business - hence the constant huffs and sighs when he's around you.

Koko, on the other hand, grows particularly fond of you and buys pretty much everything you need for yourself and the baby. Whether it be clothes, plushies, furniture for the nursery or your weird pregnancy cravings, he'll get you anything you desire. This baby is going to be spoiled rotten whether you like it or not. (Mikey complains about it more than you do)

Similarly, you and Kakucho develop a significant bond over time, the third-in-command becoming almost like an older brother to you. Among the gang, he stands out as the friendliest and least intimidating, Introducing a comforting and accessible presence in your life, something you've been missing for a while. Although you love Mikey dearly, being his wife presents its own set of difficulties and often leaves you feeling isolated.

Sanzu mostly minds his own business. He does his job and keeps an eye on you, but he has too much respect for Mikey to even consider befriending you. He wouldn't want his boss to get the wrong idea.

He mostly leaves the wifesitting job to the others, preferring to stay by Mikey's side and obey his more thrilling orders.

(And let's be honest, you're not complaining)

The Haitani brothers aren't big on befriending, and yet from time to time they'll buy some stuff for your baby, like little shoes or plushies. (That's mostly Rindou's doing, as he tends to be friendlier than his older brother).

When you find yourself alone at home, they're usually the ones assigned to stay by your front door, ensuring your security.

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tteokdoroki · 2 months

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⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡. — SATORU GOJO. the damage is done.

about. when satoru decides that he wants you (his ex) back, his foolproof plan starts off by making your new partner extremely insecure..

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, smut, non canon, toxic relationships, love bombing, exes to lovers, gaslighting, infidelity, cheating, breeding, fingering, multiple orgasms, couch sex, oral sex ( f! receiving ), unprotected sex, ex boyfriend!gojo, fem!reader.

ex!gojo who slides into the dms of your current partner to slowly make them insecure.

he acts like a nice guy, offers advice on what to do when you’re mad, what you like to eat, how to keep you all sedated and happy. your current partner starts to gush about how cool of a dude satoru gojo is. how could you pass up on such an amazing guy? he’s rich, funny, caring — they can see how you fell for him.

but what they don’t understand is the greedy side of satoru — the one who one who wanted you all to himself. the guy who never let you go out, who made you cry but made you cum with the promise of never hurting your feelings again.

sometimes the advice gets a little too specific. how does satoru know where you keep your sex toys for kinky nights of fun. why does he know the spot that makes you arch your back off of the sweaty sheets just like that? or how many fingers you like to take? or how long it takes before you start gagging on cock.

it makes your new partner insecure, gives them performance anxiety and ruins the vibes of your bedroom. they can’t communicate with you, at least not properly — it leads to fights that are all too familiar. conversations you’ve had with satoru before. your little insecurities and biggest fears are thrown into your face, things they know will hurt you deep down you. these are some of the first times you cry because of your new partner.

it’s all too familiar, these are things you’ve gone through before with your ex — the recognisable twinge in your chest and feeling of guilt after being gaslight is something you know all too well.

“he was right, you really are just a cry baby.” they say. “since he knows so much about you, maybe you should go back to fucking him.” which feels like a bullet to your heart because you’ve spent so much time proving to your partner that you’re over your ex and all the bullshit that satoru put you through. all the drama and all the trauma he left you with.

your partner leaves for the night, leaving you alone with your tears and the tiny voice in the back of your mind that tells you it’s all satoru’s fault. it goads you into calling him, his number which you blocked but kept written down in your notes app in case of emergency. it’s been forever since you last spoke to your ex and told him you wanted nothing to do with him — so you’re surprised when he picks up on the second ring, seemingly happy to hear your voice.

“what did you do, satoru?” his name on your tongue is foreign yet also familiar. you’ve said it a million times before, in many different ways (lust, love and loss) but this time you’re angry. like the last time you spoke.

“what do you mean?”

he plays coy and you feel your temper bubble. “we got into a fight, i know it’s your fault. what did you say to them?”

“shouldn’t you be making up with them?” gojo answers your question with a question, his all-knowing smirk transcending down the static on the line. “why was your first thought to call me?”

that makes you falter, stops your typhoon of rage in its place.

the truth is, you know why you called. deep down you know that gojo could fix this, when you fought as a couple you would always call him first and in tears — letting him calm you down. gaslighting you in the process. he always knew what to say to scab over the wounds of your arguments, patching over deep cuts with little white lies even if he would reopen them and leave mental scars in place.

when you fight with your partner now, you seek the same sort of unhealthy comfort in the only person who you know will give it you and that’s exactly what satoru wants.

“let me come over,” he states, suave. “let me help you fix this.” he takes advantage of your emotional torment, butters you up with the promise of comforting you and against your better judgement — you let him. your partner abandoned you, satoru wants to help you. you’ve always known that he still loved you, at least he wouldn’t leave, at least he’s not like your partner.

regret will come in the morning, you think, when you let satoru into your apartment and back into your life. he knows that everything on the walls are different, the picture frames are now brown instead of white and hold photos of your current life in place of what you had with your ex. the furniture has moved and the diffuser at the entryway smells different. but as much as you’ve tried, you can’t get rid of your ex, satoru gojo. he will always make his way back to you.

he makes sure that you’re aware of this when he kisses you on the couch that you kept from your previous relationship. satoru tells you that you’ll always need him when he pins your hips to its leather with a strong arm and buries his white head of hair between your warm, thick thighs. he proves it to you with the way that his tongue licks broad strokes against the entire length of your sex and flicks at your clit because he knows that how you like you it, he knows you’ll cum in seconds if he eats you out like that.

there’s going to be a stain in the couch from just how much more you gush on satoru’s skilled fingers and tongue, as he moans against your sopping mound and tells you how he’s the only one who could ever make you see stars this way. his face gleams with your arousal and his eyes sparkle knowingly because it’s true. you’ve never felt as good as you have with satoru in comparison to anyone else. it puts doubt in your mind, makes you question why you even left him in the first place.

though, you don’t have much time to dwell on the thought…because in hurried yet precise movements — gojo is making you cum on his fingers again. the rough pad of his thumb possessively writes the letters of his name against your pulsating clit — hardened by blood that rushes to it, carrying lustful hormones from your frenzied mind. he loves how you taste when you cum, how you cling to him, how he knows that you’ll never forget this phenomenalfeeling after tonight.

it’s a little too intimate for two exes when satoru makes you ride him. his legs spread wide while you straddle his lap, creating the perfect angle for his cock to nudge against that one special pleasure spot inside of you. you’ve missed his cock, it’s perfect length and thickness — it’s pretty pink tip that oozes so much precum that’s all for you. it’s only ever been for you.

the way satoru’s large palms cup the globes of your ass and guide you back and forth over his lap unlocks a nostalgic and loving feeling in your rapidly rising and falling chest. he kisses you with so much passion that you’re reminded of the good nights you spent with him — making love until sunrise while his tongue rolls over yours and licks at your teeth. you’re naked and chest to chest, noses becoming neighbours while the course of your breathing syncs up. it’s overwhelming, how adored you feel in the moment, all while fucking your ex on the couch.

you grope at each other like it’ll be the final time you ever have sex like this. your hands settle at the base of satoru’s neck and his on your waist while you languidly move together in a salacious dance routine you’ve done so many times before. you’re perfect partners, it’s evident in the way you reward his throbbing cock with dribbles of your creamy arousal — droplets of soft white running down and catching on veins on his shaft.

“i’m always going to love you, baby,” satoru’s soft laments echo through the home you’ve made with your over lover — barely audible over his balls slapping against your peachy ass and your cunt selfishly squeezing down on him, squelching with every thrust. “i’m always gonna want you like this, even when we fuck up. e-even when we’re not together,” he growls and rambles, blissful blue eyes darting all over your face twisted with ecstasy and right down to where you paint him with arousal and suck him in so well. “fuuuck, i wanna cum…s-say you want it, say you want me.”

it’s overwhelming, how much love you have for satoru. for your ex. it washes over your feelings of guilt in regard to your infidelity, any bad emotion or thought of your partner cannot compare to the burning and bright lust that flickers in your tummy. when you fuck yourself down on gojo’s throbbing girth he pulls back out of your snug, salacious sex — creating a delicious cycle of friction that you never want to forget. that you miss so bad.

“i want…i want you!” you stutter, tears brewing in your starry eyes. “i miss you, i love you,” the words rush out of you before your hazy mind can even catch up and register them. you barely manage to register that you’re fucking your ex just mere hours after arguing with your special one. it doesn’t matter, not right now and not in this moment. not when satoru teases your clit until you’re able to cum all over him, painting his thighs with your slick as you slump against him.

even though he shouldn’t, even though he’s ruined your relationship, gojo cums inside your quivering cunt. fills you to the brim with his viscous, scorching seed and there’s so much of it that it seeps from your entrance — pooling okto the couch below.

“i love you.”

“i know.”

“come back to me, baby.”

“i…i don’t know if i can…”

you want to so badly, especially the damage is done, sealed by stolen kisses that’ll mean nothing in the morning.

satoru’s gotten what he wanted, to make you question your relationship and remind you of why you should come back to him. you fell asleep an intertwined mess on the couch and he leaves in the early hours of the next day.

all so that your current partner will never know the events that occurred on the night of your fight — you don’t have to heart to tell them when they come back the next morning with your favourite flowers and an apology. they shouldn’t have left you. they shouldn’t have gone to satoru behind your back. they love you.

but it’s already too late, a seed of doubt has been planted in your mind by your ex. you release that you still want him, that you might even miss him and the foundation of your new relationship becomes shaky and unstable.

you’ve grown insecure and you will always be comparing your current partner to your last partner. to gojo.

and your lover? now they’re insecure too, because you’re always so distant and you always smell a little different when you come home these days.

because you’ve started going behind their back to be with your ex, satoru, too.

#tteokdoroki #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk smut #gojo x you #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satoru gojo x you #jjk x you #gojo satoru x you #jjk thirsts #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing

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xoxomireya · 3 months

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！ᶻz﹒the ultimate friendship guide﹒🦢﹕⤾

tysm for requesting @jasminejournal < 3 ! i had a lot of fun making this.

I. YOU CAN’T NATURALLY MATCH WITH EVERYONE

First things first: You can’t be friends with everyone. apart from the obvious “a friend to all is a friend to none”, it’s quite unrealistic to expect everyone to like you, and that’s okay! You just have to acknowledge that you aren’t meant to be liked by everyone.

Find people who are like-minded, who give you the same energy back, who have the same values, people that have healed and don’t bring their baggage and toxicity into the friendship. quality >>> quantity. Not everyone is meant for you and that’s okay, because we are not seeking quantity, we are looking for quality friends who have all the values i listed before and the ones you also find important.

The world is your oyster. in this era it’s easier than ever to make friends: meet a lot of people, say yes to plans, go to events, network, etc. The more people you meet the more you will realize that you can’t match naturally with everyone, some people are just not your vibe and the more people you meet the more likely you are to find someone you do mesh well together with. I completely understand that it might be harder for some people who are introverted or have social anxiety to socialize, but in that case I really recommend to work firstly on yourself because a lot of the times those things are triggered by insecurities and a bad relationship with oneself. I also recommend to practice with people online or people who know nothing about you, because that’s the thing: they know nothing about you. If you’re insecure, they don’t know that. If you’re acting in a confident way even though you’re not, they’re also not going to know because they don’t know the way you think or act.

Maybe the problem is YOU. Ifyou’re always losing friendships and struggling to maintain them, maybe the common denominator is you because you have issues you need to introspect. Focus on yourself for some time and fix all the issues that might be making you repel high-value people such as being insecure, romanticizing your sadness, having toxic and jealous behaviors…

II. WHERE AND HOW TO MEET PEOPLE

Like-minded communities !! You need to utilize the resources you have to make friends. friends that last are the ones who think in a similar way and who share similar values and interests, and you’re more likely to find like-minded people in like-minded communities. Build up the courage to go and do things alone so you become comfortable in going to places to meet people alone.

Some like-minded communities can be classes in which they teach hobbies of yours because when there’s a community of people whom you have to coexist with you will be forced to work together in a team and talk to each other and that will make it a lot more easier to make friends. Plus, you’re taking the same class so you’re going to have an interest/hobby to bond over which means automatic conversations without any awkwardness. Another option is to become a regular literally ANYWHERE. Ranging from a coffee shop to a gym, when you become a regular you familiarize with the staff and other regulars.

We’re living in an era in which technology can help you with almost anything. Use this to your advantage! Make online friends, use social media to search for like-minded people, download apps to make friends such as bumble bff…

III. HIGH-VALUE FRIENDS.

Now that you’ve prepared yourself and know where to find friends, let’s talk about how to know when someone is right for you.

Look for people who strive to be the best version of themselves and who are surrounded by positive energy. You are who you surround yourself with, so make friends that bring you positivity and who inspire you. Make sure that you both share how you want your future to look like and have similar future plans. Meshing well with them is a must. For example, someone who prefers and feels more comfortable having low maintenance friendships won’t match with someone who prefers to have high maintenance friendships.

And of course, respect is needed. You cross my boundaries? You’re out. Any sort of toxic or jealous behavior is NOT normal and you should not be friends or be influenced by that type of people.

IV. WHAT TO TALK ABOUT AND HOW TO BE A GOOD FRIEND.

Do NOT come off as desperate. “What if they don’t like me?” Thinking like that will only make you be so immerse in your thoughts that all of your confidence will disappear. Focus on having a “How can I make them feel comfortable and understood?” mindset, you’re now not thinking only about yourself and being self-conscious, so you’re going to appear more confident and since now you’re focusing on listening and making the other person feel comfortable you will make an amazing first impression.

Ask them questions about themselves. People love talking about themselves and this will immediately make them like you. Do not make it look like an interview, tho. Make sure you provide your input too which shouldn’t be hard because every question you ask is going to be redirected to you. You can also start the conversation with a compliment!

Friendship is a two way street. It needs to go both ways and you need to follow up with each other. What are they offering you? What are YOU offering them? Think about what can you give without forgetting what can you receive. The type of friend you want is the type of friend you need to be

V. HOW TO MAINTAIN FRIENDSHIPS

Everyone has the type of friendship maintenance they feel more comfortable with, but it's a fact that low-maintenance friendships are tho ones that last. Even if you feel more comfortable having high maintenance friendships, make sure that both of you can accomodate to having to maintain the friendship even when both of you are busy.

COMMUNICATION!!! I assure you that there's probably going to be a lot of hardships and misundersatings in your friendships (And that's not bad, we're human) and no proper communication will lead to the deterioration of the friendship.

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dontyouworrydaddy · 11 months

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Can you please write about the Task Force 141 boys (and Konig too if it's ok) just casually shopping when a young woman comes to them out of the blue, gently grabbing their arm. She looks absolutely terryfied, whispering a shaky "Act like you know me. Please!" It's clear someone has been following her for a whlie and she's desperate for help. Thank you.

𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓

Task Force 141 (+König) x Reader

I‘m so happy I get to write this since I had this in mind for such a long time 😭 so Thank you for suggesting this and I hope you like it xoxo 😚

KÖNIG

As König strolled through the bustling marketplace, his keen eyes scanned the various stalls, his mind focused on the mundane task of running errands. Dressed inconspicuously in civilian clothes, he blended seamlessly into the crowd, his stoic demeanor giving no hint of the dangerous missions he undertook as an elite soldier.

Suddenly, a gentle touch on his arm startled him. He turned to face you with fear written deeply into your eyes. "Please act like you know me!" you pleaded, your voice trembling. König instantly recognized the distress in your voice and the urgency in your gaze. Without hesitation, he nodded, his stoicism giving way to concern.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice laced with a comforting tone. He pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a protective embrace. You leaned into his chest, seeking solace in his strength.

König's social anxiety has always been a problem for him and it’s hitting hard surfaced in this unexpected encounter. He was a man of few words but possessed an unwavering sense of loyalty and courage. He was calm under pressure, his sharp instincts guiding him through the chaos of battle. Now, faced with a terrified stranger seeking his help, those traits kicked into action.

As König held you, he discreetly surveyed his surroundings. His eyes landed on a man lurking nearby, watching you guys intently. The man's presence and the way he leered at you which made it clear he had been following you. König's protective instincts flared, and he knew he needed to act swiftly.

With a calm yet firm voice, König spoke to the man, his words laden with an underlying warning. "Do you have a problem, sir?" he asked, his tone carrying an unmistakable air of authority.

The man's face paled as he realized he had been caught. He stammered a weak denial, his eyes darting nervously from König to you. Sensing the growing unease in the man, König maintained his grip on the you, ensuring your safety. Without another word, the man hastily retreated, disappearing into the crowd as if he were never there. König watched him go, his steely gaze never faltering. Once the immediate danger had passed, he turned his attention back to you gently releasing you from his protective embrace.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his concern evident in his voice. You nodded, gratitude shining in your eyes. You thanked him for his help but your voice still laced with residual fear. König, ever the enigma, simply nodded in response, his focus returning to the world around him.

SIMON RILEY

Simon strolled through the bustling marketplace, enjoying a rare moment of solitude away from his covert missions and high-stakes operations. As he perused the various stalls, his attention was suddenly drawn to a figure emerging from the throng, walking towards him with a sense of urgency. It was you and you had fear written across your face, approaching Simon with trepidation. Without a moment's hesitation, you reached out and gently grabbed his arm, your voice trembling as you whispered, "Act like you know me. Please!" He looked down at you and he wonders why him because you can’t see his face due to the mask covering his whole face but his eyes.

But still, Simon's instincts kicked in, his years of training guiding his response. He swiftly assessed the situation, noting the unease in your eyes and the subtle glances cast over your shoulder. Without a word, he nodded, recognizing the urgency of the matter. With a sense of familiarity, he slipped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer, creating a facade of friendship and protection. “There you are. I thought you got lost in the mall” he replied a bit loudly so the man behind you could hear it.

The man, dressed in a nondescript manner, had been trailing you for some time. His presence was unsettling, and his intentions were definitely clear. Sensing the danger, Simon decided to confront the man head-on. With a calm yet authoritative voice, he greeted the stranger, "Hey, is there a problem?"

The man's eyes widened, clearly caught off guard by Simon's intervention. He stammered, unable to meet Simon's piercing gaze. "N-No, there's no problem. Sorry for the misunderstanding," he mumbled before quickly retreating into the crowd, disappearing as if he had never been there at all.

You let out a sigh of relief, the tension slowly releasing from your body. Simon's protective embrace remained, offering you a sense of security amidst the chaotic surroundings. He looked down at you, concern etched upon his face. "Are you alright? Do you know that man?"

You shook your head, grateful for Simon's intervention. "No, I've never seen him before. But he's been following me for a few days and he’s always lurking in the shadows. I didn't know what to do, and then I saw you. I just...I needed help. Because this time I had the feeling something is gonna happen"

Simon's expression softened, his voice filled with reassurance. "You did the right thing, coming to me. We'll figure this out together. You're safe now."

With that, Simon gently led you away from the marketplace, finding a quieter corner where the noise of the crowd was replaced by a sense of serenity. His arm remained around you, providing both a shield and a comfort. The world seemed to fade away as the two of you focused on each other.

He stayed with you for an hour until you were calm and offered to guide you home. You guys started talking and he was pretty good at keeping your mind busy and forgetting about what happened earlier.

Before you leave, you give him your phone number and thank him again. He first didn’t accept it but you wanted to go out and have a drink as a thank you. After a few arguments he agreed and accepted it.

JOHN MACTAVISH

John strolled through the busy shopping center, blending in with the bustling crowd. As an experienced soldier, he had become accustomed to the chaos of war, but today he sought solace in the mundane world of civilian life. It was an ordinary day, or so he thought.

Suddenly, a hand gently grasped his arm, and he turned to face an unfamiliar yet terrified face. It was you, eyes wide with fear and voice trembling as you spoke. "You, please. Act like you know me. Please!" you whispered urgently.

John was taken aback by the intensity of your plea, but his instincts kicked in immediately. With a nod, he masked his surprise and responded, "Hey, how have you been?" He wrapped his arms around you in a comforting hug, hoping to offer you some reassurance.

Feeling the strength and warmth in his embrace, you relaxed. You leaned closer, your voice barely above a whisper, "There's a man following me. He's been tracking me for a while, and I'm terrified. I don't know what to do."

John's eyes narrowed as he surveyed his surroundings, searching for any signs of the mysterious man. “Don't worry," he murmured, his voice filled with quiet determination. "I'll handle it."

Just as John finished speaking, a figure emerged from the crowd, his gaze fixed on you. Sensing the tension, the stalker approached, a malicious glint in his eyes. However, his confidence wavered when he saw John's protective stance and you nestled against him.

John's steely gaze met the stalker's, and he spoke with an edge of warning in his voice, "Is there a problem?" His voice, calm and controlled, sent a shiver down the stalker's spine. The stalker faltered, suddenly unsure of himself. He stammered, "N-no, no problem at all." Fear danced in his eyes, realizing that he had underestimated the situation. Without another word, the stalker swiftly turned on his heels and disappeared into the crowd, leaving John and you in a newfound sense of safety. John's grip on you tightened slightly, a silent promise that he would continue to protect you.

As the adrenaline subsided, you looked up at John, gratitude evident in her eyes. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice filled with genuine relief. "I don't know what I would've done without you."

John offered a reassuring smile, his rugged features softened by a genuine kindness. "You're welcome. Just glad I could help. Are you okay?"

A small smile graced your lips, finally feeling a sense of security. "I am now. Thanks to you, …"

“John. My Name is John” he replied with a smile. “Thanks to you John“

You guys stood there for a moment longer until you were calm and talked for a bit before your ways parted again.

JOHN PRICE

John walked through the bustling aisles of a local supermarket, his mind preoccupied with mundane thoughts about groceries and errands. He is relaxed, but his years of combat experience had honed his senses, always keeping his mind busy.

As he reached for a can of soup on the shelf, a gentle yet desperate touch on his arm caught his attention. He turned his head and his eyes met with yours. In that moment, he sensed your fear and urgency. There was no need for words; your trembling form and wide eyes spoke more than words.

"Help me. Please act like you know me" you whispered shakily, your voice laced with terror. You were being pursued, and you needed his help. Without hesitation, Price nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. His personality trait of being fiercely protective kicked into high gear.

His grip tightened around you, offering both support and a sense of safety. "Hey," he greeted, his voice low and comforting. "What's going on?"

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you clung to him. "There's this guy... he's been following me for days," you explained, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know what he wants, but I can't shake him off."

Price's jaw tensed, his expression growing more determined. "Stay close," he said, his voice holding a steely edge. "Let's confront him."

With your heart pounding, you followed Price as he led you through the supermarket, his imposing figure serving as a shield against any potential threat. As you weaved through the aisles, you caught sight of the man who had been stalking you. His eyes widened in surprise when he noticed Price's presence at your side.

John’s voice held a commanding tone as he approached the man. "You got a problem?"

Startled, the man stammered, his face turning pale. "W-What? No no no, no problem at all," he stuttered, his voice trembling. He hastily made his way toward the exit, clearly intimidated by the legendary figure of John.

With the threat seemingly neutralized, John turned his attention back to you. He pulled you into a comforting embrace, his strong arms offering solace amidst the chaos of the situation. "You're safe now," he reassured, his voice carrying a sense of genuine care.

You buried your face in his chest, feeling the weight of the tension slowly dissipating. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude. "I don't know what I would have done without you."

KYLE GARRICK

Kyle was walking through his local yet favorite grocery store. He couldn’t find his favorite candy which was making him a bit mad. Little did he know that his peaceful shopping excursion was about to take a dramatic turn.

Suddenly, a hand gently clasped around Kyle's arm. He turned, his eyes locking with yours. You, with your disheveled hair and wide eyes, looked absolutely terrified. The fear in your gaze pierced through him, leaving no room for doubt. Without a word, you pleaded for his assistance.

"Act like you know me. Please," you whispered, your voice trembling.

Kyle's training kicked in, his instincts telling him to trust you. He masked his surprise and concern, his face transforming into a warm smile. "Hey," he greeted you, wrapping his arms around your trembling frame. The embrace offered you a sense of safety.

His voice, a soothing baritone, held a touch of authority. "Is that guy bothering you? Does he have a problem?" Kyle glanced over your shoulder, his gaze fixed on a man lurking in the distance, his eyes locked onto you with a sinister intensity.

Fear flashed across the stalker's face as he realized he had been caught. His eyes darted from Kyle to you and back again. In that moment, the tables turned, and he suddenly felt the weight of his actions. The man quickly averted his gaze, his footsteps retreating hastily. He was too scared to stay for a minute longer.

With the threat vanquished, you let out a shaky breath, the tension leaving your body. "Thank you," you whispered, gratitude lacing every word. "I don't know what I would have done without you." He released you from his protective embrace, his eyes never leaving yours. "You're safe now," he assured you, his voice filled with genuine concern.

For the rest of your shopping trip, Kyle remained by your side, his presence offering you an unspoken reassurance. Together, you navigated the aisles, filling the cart with groceries while engaging in lighthearted banter and getting to know each other.

After Paying for the groceries your ways split and you were thankful that he helped you out of the situation. He was glad he could save yet another life.

6K notes · View notes

peachesofteal · 4 months

Text

Simple Math / Part 5

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.5k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI, no smut but this fic contains mature themes. Stalking. Brief mention of domestic violence. Feelings of fear, self loathing, and anxiety. Vomiting. Panic attack/comfort. Medical inaccuracies, hospital setting. A little bit of praise. Johnny is a flirt and a menace.

“Ye’re off yer head.”

“I’m not.” Johnny expects Simon to relent, to give it up, but when he doesn’t budge, something hot sizzles alive in the pit of Johnny’s stomach, desire roaring to life in his veins.

“Jus’ like that? Ye’re goin’ let me see yer bonnie face finally?” He slurs, lifting the bottle to his lips, and Simon nods.

“Only if you win."

“And if ye win?” Simon moves closer, his chest brushing against Johnny’s, balaclava covered face dipping down, noses nudging against one another’s in a tentative, teasing way.

“If I win, you’ll remove something of my choosing instead.”

Your phone is ringing.

In your sleep, you hardly recognize it, but your subconscious is well trained, and your hand seeks the source of the noise effortlessly, dragging it from the nightstand and next to your face, to squint blearily at it, awareness coming quickly when you recognize the charge nurse’s work line.

“Hello?” You clear the cobwebs of sleep from your throat.

“Hey, sorry to wake you.”

“No, ‘s alright. What’s going on?”

“I know it’s your day off, but-“

“You’re short.” You fill in the blanks, and she huffs.

“We’ve got two out with flu like symptoms, and I’m floating another to-“

“It’s okay.” You swing your feet over the edge of the bed, rubbing your eyes. “I got you. Just give me like, an hour? I have to get ready and stuff.”

“Of course. Thanks so much, you’re a lifesaver.” You zone out for a moment, plotting out the rest of your day, and mumble something like ‘don’t worry about it’, ending the call with your thumb.

The hotel carpet is plush. It’s cushioned and soft, and it gives a little when you stand and stretch, pulling your arms over your head, twisting and turning with tired bones, shaking loose the stupor that holds your neck too straight, too tightly.

OT isn’t the worst thing in the world right now, considering you’re paying for a long term stay in a hotel, you tell yourself more than a few times as you shower and dress. You should be grateful for it. Understaffing has it’s benefits, financially.

The only wrench about coming in on your day off this week is you’re supposed to be collecting more things from your flat. Particularly, clothing. You’ve only got a short rotation of outfits, scrubs, both in short supply, and… no clean underwear. You had planned to move large chunks of your wardrobe over today, probably at least two trips worth, but will now have to settle for stopping by fairly quick to grab what you can.

It will be fine, you think, casually checking your surroundings as you step off the platform. In and out and on with your day.

You were wrong.

You see it immediately, stepping through the door. The locks are in place, handle, deadbolt, extra one at the top, but you can tell, you can feel, that someone has been in here. Your blood thickens in your veins, freezing to a stop, sluggishly propelled by your frenzied heart. You can hear it in your ears, the thunder of your panic, can feel the fear twisting itself into a sailor’s knot and holding you hostage.

Your feeling is confirmed, rationalized, when you push your bedroom door ajar and see the carnage of what’s been left behind on top of your bed.

Shredded panties.

The entire underwear drawer has been spilled out across your sheets, lace and cotton and silk all ripped to pieces, torn edges clearly made by hands, not knives, not scissors, but the personal touch of fingers, of fists.

Your breath catches in your chest, oxygen in the room falling away, leaving you panting, gasping for your next inhale as you cautiously pick up a pair close to you. They’re grey cotton boy shorts, and your stomach flips up into your throat when they stand as stiff as a board, some sort of dried substance splattered across them, rendering the fabric firm and inflexible.

Not… not just some dried substance… you realize in horror, scanning the pile of panties, noticing the stains on most of them, a milky white color shining against black silk.

You can’t breathe. You stumble away, back slamming into your dresser, sinking down onto the floor, hands covering your ears.

This can’t be happening. This can’t be real.

This is sick, even for him. An escalation of disturbing behavior that sends a chill down your spine, frightening you even more than you already were. You knew he’d get in, hoped he would buy your carefully crafted lie: the appearance of you still living there… but to act so brazenly, to do something like… this.

Does he know, does he realize, you’re not actually living in the flat now?

He’s really going to kill you this time.

You race to the toilet, heaving yourself over the seat as your breakfast rushes past your lips, a cup of coffee and half eaten muffin accentuated by the sting of bile, and you gag, spitting and hacking until you’re finished, flushing it all away.

You don’t look at the girl in the mirror. You don’t want to see her. Don’t want to tell her all the ways you’re letting her down. She thinks you’re smarter than this, stronger. Braver. She believes you’ve done it once before, you’ve escaped, you’ve hid, and you can do it again.

She doesn’t know you’re not sure you have the heart for it now. She doesn’t realize you’re tired, you’re afraid. She doesn’t understand that you like the life you’ve made, that running is exhausting, that sometimes, in the very darkest corners of your mind, you think that letting him win might be easiest.

So, you don’t look at her. You mourn your pile of panties for a too long second and lock the apartment up tight.

Get it together. Get yourself together.

You coach yourself the entire way to work, trying to ignore the rubbing and bunching of your scrub pants, an unfortunate consequence of being forced to go commando.

Deep breath. You can do this.

You still have your sanctuary.

You had hoped, for a miniscule moment, that your day might improve once you step foot in the hospital, and you pushed away the inkling that suggested that optimism may be linked the fact that you’ll get to see Simon and Johnny, opting not to even acknowledge the strange sensations swirling about inside your heart whenever you think about the other day. The day when the world stood still and Johnny touched your hand so gently, stroking his fingers over your skin, or when the elevator doors parted to reveal Simon and their baby, a sweet baby girl safe in his arms, his eyes alight and adoring, your knees almost giving out at the sight.

Needless to say, you’re eager to badge in.

The day is quickly derailed, when within a half an hour of getting settled into your routine, an alarm goes off for two sixty-eight: thirty-nine degrees.

Your mind immediately somersaults to the pain in his upper right quadrant from your last shift, logical thought leaping all around as you jog down the hall.

You notated it. You passed it on in shift report. It’s only thirty-nine. You did everything right. No one here would just disregard something like that. Deep breath.

Still…

Bile leak. Abscess. Infection. Or worse… hepatic artery pseudoaneurysm, hemorrhaging. Big things that could lead to worse things, worse outcomes, worse-

The door comes up quicker than you realize, and without hesitating, you slip inside.

“Hi.” You’re a little breathless, and Simon’s eyes snap to yours, taking you in, studying from head to toe, brow knitted together. Johnny’s asleep, and you’re not sure if that makes you feel better, or worse.

“Everything alright?” Of course. He’s too perceptive. Get control of yourself, it could be nothing.

“Yeah, I ah… have to draw some blood.” You really do not want to wake your patient, or alarm Simon, but you refuse to lie. You fire off a text to the attending on call, advising him of Johnny’s temperature and reminding him of the upper right quadrant pain, letting him know he can expect labs as soon as you get them downstairs. You give Simon a nod, turning to slide the draw open quietly, pulling out everything you’ll need. His gaze burns a hole in your scrubs, the ever-present scrutiny impossible to escape, and sometimes you wonder if he’s reading your mind.

“What’s wrong? He just fell asleep, Pen was here all morning, tired him out.” His protest is husky, and you think he’s frowning behind the mask. You imagine a strong mouth pulled downwards in consternation; wide jaw gnashed tight with worry.

“He’s running just a bit of a fever.” He jolts, and you shake your head, hoping to soothe his fear. “It’s not too high. I’m not super worried, but we’ll need to check his white cell count, just in case, okay? And then we’ll go from there.” He nods.

“You said this could happen.” You smile. It feels unsteady, but you hope he can’t tell.

“I did. I promised, that if there was something to panic about, I would tell you. We’re not there yet.” It’s not a lie. Your wild spiral from a few minutes ago was an extreme, not reality, and you need to keep your head on.

“Okay.”

“Right. So, just going to do a quick blood draw and get it downstairs so we can find out what’s going on.” Simon shifts uncomfortably, and you carefully squeeze Johnny's arm, wrapping him with the tie and swabbing the inside of his elbow as fast as possible.

He blinks, eyes opening slowly, confused brow smoothing when he realizes you’re leaning over him, and his gaze darts to Simon before landing back on you. “There’s our bunny.” He mumbles softly, and your face heats, eyes widening in surprise before you regulate your reaction, and Simon coughs. Loudly. Bunny?

“Such a flirt, MacTavish.” You playfully chastise him, relieved he’s feeling like himself. “I just need to get some blood and then I’ll leave you in peace to sleep.” He shrugs, but Simon rubs a thumb against his thigh in tiny little circles, too fast to be considered comfort, and Johnny clucks. “Ah, come on Si.”

“You’re runnin’ a fever, Johnny.”

“Ach. ‘s nothing.” He brushes it off, but his eyes are slow to track Simon’s movements, and you casually sneak a peek at the monitor, noting his blood pressure.

“Could be.” You assure him, smoothing a hand over his shoulder and taping a small patch of gauze over the puncture. “But better safe than sorry, right?”

The labs are inconclusive. The attending hems and haws before finally asking you to schedule a stat ultrasound of his abdomen, and you manage to bump him to the front of the queue, pulling a few strings here and there by rattling off some bullshit about being higher priority.

In the time it takes for the tech to get to two sixty-eight with the machine, you get a new admission. Intubated, but awake, and getting them and their family squared away takes longer than you would have liked, the patient’s middle-aged husband a wreck of nerves and worry, the kind of anxiety that makes you sit with him in the room for a little while, patting his hand and promising that you’ll be there for them, every step of the way.

By the time you step out of that room, it’s been nearly an hour. You catch a glimpse of Simon in the chairs outside two sixty-eight, and you throw him one of your best work smiles, hoping to reassure him, soothe his nerves. You want to go to him, want to sit beside him and talk him through everything, the outcomes, the possibilities, but you still need to add the notes for your new admit, and-

Someone catches your eye from the end of the hall. It’s a man, white, with brown hair, in regular clothes, and he stands taller than the others around him, shoulders rolled back just- just like-

No. You force yourself to look, to truly see him, taking in his facial features, the slope of his nose, and it’s hardly a second before you’re realizing it’s not who you thought it was. It’s not him.

The second doesn’t matter to your heart. It’s already racing, tripling it’s steady pace inside your chest. You’re shaking, trembling in the middle of the hall, frantically looking for the nearest closet, or empty room, or…

Stairwell. There’s a stairwell just beyond where Simon is anxiously waiting, and you beeline to it, nearly tripping over your own feet past him. You think you hear your name being called, but the blood rushing in your ears is too loud, and you can’t be sure. Either way, it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters right now is getting away. Hiding. Not letting yourself be noticed.

You take the first flight down, stopping on the landing to rest your face against the polished, cold wall, desperately trying to fill your lungs with air, encouraging yourself to breathe.

It wasn’t him. You’re safe.

Deep breath. You can do this.

Your fingers dig into your hips, squeezing through the numbness, through the overwhelming feeling of your impending doom, and your head swims, lightheadedness nearly knocking you off balance.

“It wasn’t him.” You whisper aloud. “It’s not him. You’re safe. Get it together.” You chant, eyes clenched tight. Your heart is still pounding, no sign of relenting, and your lungs burn, screaming inside you, desperate for air. The feeling of suffocating, of dying, grows stronger, gaining momentum, and your eyes slam shut, your mind and body locked in a tomb of panic and fear.

You hear your name again. It’s sharper, authoritative, but you can’t open your eyes, too overwhelmed to even make sense of it. Deep breath, just breathe.

Something touches your shoulder. It’s unexpected, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you register it as gentle, but you’re too far gone, too far buried beneath your fear and your panic and your shame. It triggers you into a defensive posture, and you flinch so hard you jostle yourself into the wall, turning into the corner, hands out in front of your face.

“Hey, hey.” It’s Simon. Simon is standing in the stairwell with you, palms open, concern heavy in his eyes, and you vaguely realize he’s talking, soft, deep words washing over you. “-to breathe?” He comes closer, only half a step, but it’s enough to startle you back into the corner, and he stops short. “It’s alright. I’m not going to touch you.” He soothes, and you recognize the pitch, the calm, affectionate tone from Johnny’s bedside. Sour nausea surges in your stomach, and your lungs fight the invisible hand that tightens around them. “Can you take a deep breath?” You shake your head, and he huffs a soft chuckle. “You can do it, just try. Through your nose, like this.” His chest expands, eye contact never breaking, and you try to follow suit, getting halfway before your head spins, vision tunneling. “You’re alright.”

You’re not alright. None of this is alright. You’re having a panic attack, in the stairwell at your job, in front of a patient’s partner.

You can’t speak, so you shake your head instead. No.

“Yes, you are.” He assures. “Everything’s okay. Focus on your breathing. Try another one for me.” His hand covers his heart, and you focus on the way it ebbs and flows with the movement of his diaphragm, the pace of his breaths.

You manage to get one full inhale and exhale. And then you get another. Then a third, a fourth, until it’s coming easier, and your head doesn’t feel as fuzzy.

“Good job, that’s it.” Your fingers twist together, the grating noise of your jagged breathing smoothing out even more, and Simon nods encouragingly. “You’re doing great, sweetheart. Nice and slow.” Sweetheart. The word is bright, boundless and sweet as honey, the sentiment settling in your belly and growing warm. The two of you stand there, just breathing, staring at one another, for what feels like an eternity, until you find the strength to summon words.

“I-I’m sorry.” You finally choke once you’ve got a better handle on yourself, hands going lax at your thighs.

“Nothin’ to be sorry about.” You’re about to brush it off, thorny lies starting to form in your mind, excuses and carefully crafted explanations fusing together when your work phone beeps, the low frequency different from the ones related to patient care. Shit. Already? Simon’s glances at it in your pocket and cocks his head.

“End of my shift.” You explain, moving towards the stairs, your hand trembling on the button to silence the alarm. The muscles in his neck flex, molars grinding together.

“Still feeling a little shaky?” He observes, and you look down to your feet, mortification crawling up your spine, blooming across your cheeks through heated blood vessels.

“Um…”

“Would you mind, maybe sitting with Johnny for a bit?” You do still have notes to do. “If his test is done? I have to run home, help the Prices' put Penny down. She’s been a bit fickle, lately. Missin’ her Da.” He rubs the back of his neck, chest flexing inside the charcoal grey hoodie, and for a weird, too long second, you wonder what it might be like to fall asleep there, or just close your eyes for a minute, even though it's something sweet and far away, unobtainable in every facet. Simon says your name, jogging your attention, and then takes the first step, partially turning like he wants to reach for you, but thinks better of it.

“Uh. Yeah, I… I can.”

You badge out and grab your stuff, keeping your tablet so you can complete your notes while you sit with Johnny. You’ve already checked his results, and when you slip inside the room, the attending is updating them, explaining how he has a very small bile leak, and will need an endoscopic procedure tomorrow morning.

The attending excuses himself, giving you a quick nod, and then Simon leans down, knocking their foreheads together tenderly.

“Keep an eye on him, I hear he likes to make trouble.” Johnny smiles, pink-red color creeping up his neck into his cheeks, and Simon seems like he’s smiling, before he turns serious. “Behave. I won’t be too long.”

“I always behave.” He pats the side of the bed, beckoning you, and you shake your head, plopping down in the recliner to his right.

“I hear ye’re keepin’ me company, pretty girl?”

“I am. Got some notes to finish, heard this chair was pretty comfortable.” You quip back easily, and it feels natural, to be joking and laughing, to be hiding again.

“Well, I’ll try not to distract ye then.”

Your tablet clicks dark with a satisfying shutter, and when you place it face down, Johnny gives you one of his stupidly handsome smiles. “All finished?”

“Yeah, not too bad.” His phone vibrates against the tabletop, and with his good hand, he opens the message, turning it to show you the screen. It’s a picture of Penny, half asleep against Simon, clad in a pink onesie covered in little ducks. Her cheek is squished against him, long baby lashes fluttering on her skin. “She’s so cute.” You say, and he nods, flushed with pride. You glance at the contact name, Lou, and before you can stop yourself, a question bursts out: “Who’s Lou?”

“Our captain’s wife. She’s been helpin’ a lot, with Pen. Which is great, they’re getting a lot of girl time.”

“Your captain?”

“Aye.”

“Is that…” you want to ask but trail off. You don’t want to admit that you’ve heard gossip about them.

“Military. Simon an’ I work together, in a task force.” A task force. A task force sounds eerily close to special ops, and your nausea comes back with a vengeance.

“What… what kind of task force?”

“Global ops. Anti-terrorism, domestic threats, the lot. How I ended up here, with ye.” The image of your ex looms, his body tense in his gear, or the memory of his boots, sitting shiny by the door, one of them pulling back, swinging towards your stomach. “Bun?” Bun?

“Huh?” you blink. “Oh, sorry. Spaced out there for a second.”

“That’s alright. Simon said ye had a bit of a scare earlier?”

“No I uh, just couldn’t catch my breath, but I was fine. It was fine.” You deflect, moving on as quick as you can manage. “Did you call me bun? And… didn’t you call me bunny, earlier?” He gives you a sheepish look.

“Aye. Is our nickname for ye.”

“Wait, what? Why?”

“Well… ye look a bit like a bunny, and ye had that sticker the other day that Penny noticed.” Your face heats. “I know ye’re probably real soft like a bun, too.” Real soft? Is he… does he mean- your eyes widen, and he smirks.

“Johnny.” You flounder, helplessly, confused by his attention, this flirtation that seems to have grown into real affection, and he shifts slightly, leaning forward, reaching for your hand.

“Ye dinnae need to be afraid.” He coos. The words are a moon above a tide, pulling and reaching, dragging the swell of the waves higher and higher, until they threaten to pull you under, overwhelm you and drown you.

“I…” I don’t understand? I thought you were gay? I don’t know what is happening here? Johnny grimaces, and you immediately forget about the conversation and leap into action, jumping to your feet. “What is it? Where’s your pain?” Your hands hover over his belly, and he points to where his liver currently sits, slowly leaking inside his body, spilling bile that could eventually kill him if it hadn’t been caught. You pull down the blanket, unsnapping his gown to push it aside, checking for anything physically observable, site swelling, a rash, anything. “Does this hurt?” You cautiously press down, tapping slightly, watching his face for a reaction.

“No.” he says, and when you reach over to his other side, turning to watch his facial expressions, he moves with you, barely leaning, chin pointed in your direction.

His face is suddenly incredibly close to your face. And he looks… so handsome. So pretty, with his bright blue eyes and perfect bones, soft lips that part with an inhale. He dazzles you. Distracts you.

This is your patient, get it together. You’re a professional, act like it.

“Does that hurt?” You croak, and his lips quirk into a half smile, a warm palm gliding over the small of your back.

“It doesnae hurt, bun.” He winks.

“Oh my god, were you faking?” You try to stand up, but the pressure on your spine is firm, and he chuckles.

“Can I tell ye a secret?” He’s fully serious now, question whispered just above your ear, and you nod.

“Of course.”

“Ye’v been drivin’ me mad today, pretty girl. Walkin’ around here wit’ no panties on.” Oh. Oh… my god. You shoot upwards, hand covering your mouth in shock, and he laughs, raising an eyebrow before his gaze drifts over the curve of your hip.

“Johnny!” you hiss, scandalized, and then guilt hits you like a train, like two tons of rocks have been dropped on top of you. Simon. “Johnny, you… you and Simon, you’re-“

“We’re lucky ye’ve come into our lives.” He finishes, and you frown, confused. “We think ye’re really special.” We. We?

“What did I miss?” Simon says from the doorway, and you jerk, stepping back like Johnny’s bed is on fire and you’ve just been burnt, eyes wide and wild. You feel like a child, caught with a hand in the cookie jar, but Simon doesn’t look angry. Just curious.

“Jus’ talking.” Johnny replies, and he starts to lower his bed, watching you with heavy eyes.

“Well. I should get going. I’ve got a few trains to make.” You glance at the clock, and then give them both a polite smile. Simon crosses his arms.

“Looks like you tired him out.” He comments, and they glance at one another, some sort of communication happening silently before he shrugs. “Let me drive you.”

“Oh, no. I couldn’t. It’s not… you just got back, and I’m fine, really. It’s not that far, I-“

“If it’s not that far, let him drive ye.” Johnny pipes up, and Simon piles on easily.

"He's not going to let this go, and neither am I. Let me get you home safely, please." You shouldn't. You really, really shouldn't. "It's the least we can do." Your shoulders slump in defeat. It’s just a ride. It’s not crossing a line.

“Okay, then.” Johnny smiles, and Simon moves to his side, brushing his mask covered mouth against his forehead.

“She go down okay?” Johnny murmurs, tenderly cupping his cheek.

“Like a champ. Promised I’d bring her tomorrow morning. Think she understood me.”

“Aye. She’s smarter than ye, so probably.” He teases, and they share a lighthearted laugh before Johnny’s bidding you a goodbye, and Simon directs you out the door.

“Uh, right here is fine.” You point to the curb, and Simon slows the car to a stop, turning to face you with that ever-present scrutiny, brows shoved down above his eyes.

“A hotel?” You swallow.

“My um, my flat is being renovated. It’s a whole thing so I just figured I wo-would stay somewhere else.” You want to flee, run out of this car and away from him, but he holds you in place so easily with just his eyes, so you sit there, frozen, one hand on the door handle, the other splayed against your thigh.

“Is everything alright? Earlier-“

“I’m fine.” You rush out, cutting him off. It’s well practiced, the denial, the avoidance, these things that you normally excel out.

But nothing is normal with them.

He cocks his head, and then nods, and you breathe a little easier, turning to push the door open.

“Wait.” A hand tugs at you, thick, warm fingers lightly touching your wrist, and you whip back around to face him, eyes wide. “If you ever need anything, Johnny and I… we’re here.” Why is your heart beating so fast?

“Oh, I uh… I’m fine, I don’t need-“

“That doesn’t work on me. Johnny either, pretty girl.” He tells you, and it’s so firm, so strong backed, that your mouth goes dry, and you gape at him. What? What doesn’t work? Is he… is he saying he doesn’t buy it? Doesn’t believe you? He’s reading your mind, subtly raising an eyebrow, and then nodding. “Put my number in your phone.” He instructs, and like a robot, like a vampire’s Thrall, you pull it from your bag, swiping open the contact list and pressing each number in the order he gives it. “We’ll see you tomorrow?” He asks once you’re finished, and you mumble a shaky yes, finally pushing the door open, and climbing out.

“Alright, well. Good night.” You bend at the waist, giving him a wave through the window, and his jaw moves beneath the mask, shifting to the side, eyes squinting at the corners. He's smiling.

“Good night, bunny.”

#peaches writes #simple math #ghost x reader x soap #ghost x soap x reader #john soap mactavish #simon riley #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #ghoap x reader #soap x ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soap x reader #soap x ghost

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ln444 · 6 months

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truly madly deeply

cw: fluff, very slight angst, comfort (reader comforting lando), you and lando are fucking in love:'(((

now playing: truly madly deeply by 1d

notes: i love requests inspired by songs pls request more of it🥺 wrote this in 30 minutes at 3am so its a bit short sry:(

requested by anon

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these past few weeks have been incredibly tough on lando, both mentally and physically. you've undoubtedly noticed and have been doing your best to support him while giving him the space he needs. lando may struggle to express his feelings in words, but he's been showing his gratitude in other ways – with small gestures and plenty of physical affection. you've been following his f1 journey closely, never missing a grand prix, and making sure you're by his side through it all. lando has never felt more loved and supported. his favorite moments are those when he can finally rest and spend time with you after a grueling race.

qualifying is tomorrow, and lando seems even more nervous than usual. you know him inside out, recognizing his little habits when he's stressed; without him saying a word, you understand the thoughts racing through his mind. the night has fallen, heightening lando's anxiety as the race draws near. he's been more affectionate than usual today, seeking comfort in your hugs and asking for extra kisses. while you love this closeness, it also concerns you. you're well aware of how hard lando can be on himself, and the thought of what he might be going through tugs at your heart.

you join him on the bed, facing him, the stars casting a soft glow on his tired face, making his eyes sparkle even more when they meet yours. "hey, pretty boy," you whisper gently, your hand tenderly cupping his cheek and stroking it. butterflies flutter in his stomach, and his body relaxes a bit. "hey, love" he whispers back, planting a sweet kiss on the palm of your hand, eliciting a smile from you.

"how are you feeling?" you ask softly, your fingers gently playing with his curls – something you know he adores. with a sigh, lando closes his eyes for a moment before locking onto yours again. he finds immense comfort in your gaze, with the rest of the world fading away each time he gets lost in your eyes.

"i don't know... i'm not feeling great about tomorrow," he admits with a hint of worry in his voice. your heart aches just hearing his concerns. you move closer, your gaze softening, and lando's heartbeat quickens. how can you have such a profound effect on him with just your eyes? it drives him crazy.

"why, baby? you don't have to worry. you're lando norris, after all!" you playfully roll your eyes, and a smile tugs at lando's lips. he takes your hand and interlaces his fingers with yours, and you reciprocate with a warm smile.

"no, but seriously, what's bothering you?" you softly toy with his fingers while giving him your full attention.

"i mean, it's more of a mclaren problem than a 'me' problem," he hesitates for a moment, and you gently caress the back of his hand, encouraging him to open up.

"i don't think i belong there anymore. i don't think i can show my true potential with them." his voice is calmer now, and a sense of relief is evident.

you hum softly, and he finds the courage to continue, still focused on your hands playing together. "should i quit? but what if no one else wants me?" panic creeps into his voice, and you immediately grip his hand firmly, bringing your free hand to his cheek.

"hey, you're one of the best drivers out there. there'll always be a team that wants you. believe me, there'll always be a place for you in f1. you've worked so hard to get here, and you truly deserve it," you reassure lando. he gets lost in your eyes, feeling the depth of your love and honesty. his heart feels like it could burst at any moment.

"but i want to be the best," he pouts, and you chuckle softly, giving him a quick peck on the lips, making him smile. "you're already the best for me," you say with a gentle smile, causing lando's heart and cheeks to warm. he groans playfully, slightly embarrassed by his blushing cheeks, and your smile widens. "you're so cute; i don't think my heart can take it," you playfully whimper, cupping his face and squeezing his cheeks. lando bites his lip to suppress a smile, and the sparks in his eyes intensify. you place multiple kisses on his lips, and lando can't help but chuckle. he puts his hands on yours to pause the kisses and says, "just give me a real kiss already, please," another pout forming on his lips. your smile grows bigger, and you oblige, giving him a gentle kiss.

lando pulls back to look at you, and the warm smile on his face melts your heart. "thank you," he says softly, caressing your hands. you don't really know why he's thanking you to be honest; for the kiss or for the honest words. "you don't have to thank me," you say, placing a quick peck on his lips. "i'll always be here for you, no matter what," another peck, "and i'll always be proud of you," another one, "no matter what, my pretty boy."

lando's heart has never felt this warm. in fact, his entire body feels warm right now, overwhelmed by the love he's receiving. "god, what did i do to deserve you?" he asks with a sweet and calm voice, clearly feeling better. "i'm truly, madly, deeply in love with you."

"i know you did not just quote a one direction song," you both laugh, and lando groans, hiding his face behind your hands, feeling a bit embarrassed. "it's cute," you move your hands to look at him. "i'm truly, madly, deeply in love with you too," you say with a hint of teasing in your voice, but you absolutely mean it. a big smile forms on lando's face, and you run your hands through his hair to pull him into a tender kiss.

lando's heart feels lighter, your sweet words and touch washing away all the negative thoughts for the night. if you have to repeat every single word you said to him tomorrow and the day after – every day, you will do it, again and again. lando knows it, and he has never felt so thankful.

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masterlist

#lando norris x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fluff #f1 imagine #lando norris #lando norris fluff #f1 #lando norris angst #f1 angst #f1 drabble #f1 fanfic #ln4 fluff #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader

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lost-in-lamentation · 10 months

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he never imagined he'd show anyone this side of himself. but when it's you, he can't help but show you everything.

a/n: starting the side character writing off with a bang! this is part two of the first sign of affection.

content: what do the side characters do when they want to show you they appreciate you?

warnings: once again, if physical touch isn't your thing, neither is this post. also, solomon is a sad boi.

diavolo; he falls asleep around you.

the future king of devildom takes everything in stride. from RAD problems to royal affairs, diavolo has it all covered. but sometimes, even the ruler himself finds himself on the panicked side. he begins to seek you out when he finds himself standing on anxiety's edge; your presence relaxes him to the point where he can't fight off the tiredness that clings. as the papers get signed, diavolo's eyes start to droop, and he doesn't notice the way you shift yourself closer to catch him. he falls asleep on your shoulder before he knows it, and you allow him to rest as long as he needs.

later, when he stirs and lifts his head to look at you, you quickly coax it back to where it was, sending his heart racing. "go back to sleep, you need it."

"... thank you." diavolo relishes in the way your hand combs through his hair, taking a moment to breathe a sigh of relief.

═ ˎˊ˗

barbatos; he fiddles with your hands.

as diavolo's right hand man, barbatos barely ever has a second to spare. so when he extends you an invite to come and have a tea tasting session with him, you absolutely cannot decline. throughout the day, he hands you flavours upon flavours of tea, each time never failing to ask if you'd like to take some of the leaves back home for yourself. the two of you eventually sit in a comfortable silence, fingertips brushing when you reach for the tea pot at the same time. without a word, barbatos slips his gloves off and reaches for your hands, beginning to idly play with your fingers.

your eyes widen in surprise, but you allow him to continue. "you... you okay?"

barbatos doesn't take his eyes away from your hands. "please, indulge me for just a moment," he says softly, placing his palm on top of yours.

═ ˎˊ˗

simeon; he plays with your hair.

simeon is often a man of few words. after all, he can never get his d.d.d. to work when he wants to call or even text you. so instead, he goes the old-fashioned way and comes knocking on your door instead. his heart skips a beat when you usher him in, and time flies by without much effort. the two of you sit pressed into each other's sides, and simeon takes his chance when he notices how your head bobs up and down sleepily. his hand reaches up and begins to tenderly card his hand through your hair, chuckling at the wobbly grin you began making.

"that feels nice," you murmur, settling even further into his side.

simeon lightly nuzzles his face on the top of your head in return. "i'm glad."

═ ˎˊ˗

solomon; he cries in front of you.

for someone to have lived as long as solomon, emotions begin to blend together. he's long forgotten where the line between sadness and anger lies, and it shows when the sorcerer smiles at a situation that calls for a frown. you recall the story he told you long ago, remembering the way his expression wavered as he recounted his memories. you stand by his side now in silence; his voice falters as he tries to say anything to you. in response, you turn his face towards you, telling him to do what he has never done in front of anyone.

you bring him closer, wrapping your arms around him. "stop holding back. you're safe with me."

"safe with you," solomon whispers back. the dam breaks, and in your presence, solomon allows tears to fall for the first time in centuries.

a/n: i love cat, if you couldn't tell.

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #diavolo x reader #barbatos x reader #simeon × reader #solomon x reader #obey me nightbringer #aris writes 🐈‍⬛

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fangswbenefits · 10 months

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Comfort

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: Miguel has been having nightmares as of late and seeks a level of comfort only you can provide.

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

18+. Lactation kink. Breastfeeding as comfort. Needy Miguel. Based on this ask.

The scream tore through your head like a knife. You jolted awake at once and turned around to see Miguel writhing all sweaty and mumbling incoherently.

“No… no, no, no! NO!”

“Miguel… wake up,” you immediately placed one hand on his bare arm, squeezing lightly in an attempt to snap him out of yet another nightmare.

He stilled for a moment before springing from the matress with a loud gasp, chest heaving as his breathing became erratic.

“I’m here,” you cooed.

Miguel blinked a couple of times at you. “I’m sorry… I…” he stammered as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into an embrace.

“Shhhh,” you whispered, feeling your heart drop as he trembled wretchedly against you. “It was just a nightmare. You’re safe.”

Fortunately, his screams hadn’t woken up your baby daughter that was sleeping in the other room.

The nightmares had been getting worse and more frequent. He wouldn’t talk to you about them, but he didn’t have to… you had heard him call out his daughter’s name many times.

You remained in that position for a few minutes as he came down from the state of anxiety, running your fingers along his scalp reassuringly.

Miguel pulled back and you eased your arms around his neck, but one of his hands had come to tug at the opening of your nightgown.

You knew that gesture all too well.

Miguel had been resorting to you nursing him back to sleep whenever things got this extreme.

He had visibly calmed down, but even in the poorly lit room, you could still see the silent plea on his face.

That look was your undoing.

“You don’t have to ask,” you say, undoing the buttons. “I know this helps.”

The moment one of your breasts was exposed, he leaned to place a kiss of gratitude to your cheek before capturing a nipple in between his lips, suckling on it lightly.

Your hand came to rest on his face, wiping a few beads of sweat and tugging strands of unruly hair behind his ear.

You could hear him swallowing your milk with every gulp, and you had to bite down on your lower lip to suppress a moan. It filled you with such relief knowing that breastfeeding him could bring him the comfort he sought.

He broke the perfect latch, a few droplets of milk coating his lips before sliding down his chin. His tongue darted out to collect the liquid, not wanting to waste any of it.

“Do you need more?”

He settled back down against his pillow and nodded. Your eyes roamed along his body and you spotted his cock hardening.

“Can I fall asleep suckling on it?” his voice was low and raspy.

You offered a comforting smile. “What about that?”

His eyes followed yours, landing on his cock that stood hard but covered by the bedsheet. “It’ll go away… just… please…”

You then leaned over him, bracing your weight onto one elbow near his shoulder, and he promptly aligned his mouth with your nipple, latching hungrily.

The sensation was enough to have you clenching around nothing, clit throbbing and mouth dropped open.

“Easy, Miguel… easy…” you almost begged, caressing his cheek in absolute adoration.

His eyes fluttered shut as he brought one hand to wrap around your waist, pulling you a bit closer to him and allowing you to feel his cock.

You nearly moaned from the sight of him being so needy and desperate for the comfort that only your milk could bring.

After a while, you noticed the suction had eased and that he was merely suckling on your nipple as a habit, drifting back to his sleep.

Masterlist

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #spiderman 2099 x reader

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warmmilku · 4 months

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🍂Tips for regressors without a CG!🍂

🧸 Create a safe and comfortable space for yourself

🐾 Establish a routine to provide a sense of security

🧸 Engage in activities that bring joy and comfort

🐾 Connect with supportive online communities like here on Tumblr!

🧸 Practice self-care and prioritize mental health!

🐾 Set boundaries to ensure a healthy balance

🧸 Explore coping mechanisms for stress and anxiety

🐾 Embrace creativity through art, writing, or playing!

🧸 Seek professional help if needed!

🐾 Remember it's okay to ask for support from friends or loved ones!!!

🧸 Try coloring books or doodling for a relaxing artistic outlet!

🐾 Explore imaginative worlds through reading fantasy books

🧸 Build a blanket fort for a cozy and playful hideaway

🐾 Create a playlist of favorite childhood songs and dance freely!

🧸 Engage in DIY crafts or projects to express creativity

🐾 Watch animated movies or TV shows that you love!

🧸 Play video games with colorful and entertaining themes

🐾 Bake or cook simple treats to enjoy and share!

🧸 Take nature walks or explore a local park for fresh air

🐾 Experiment with different hobbies like puzzles or board games!

#sfw agere #agere #agere blog #sfw caregiver space #safe agere #sfw age regression #sfw age regressor #agere community #age regressor #caregiver space #agere tips #sfw agere tips #sfw agere advice #agere advice

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chuunai · 10 days

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Dazai kisses you with the reverence of a worshipper. He’s eternally grateful that such a filthy, lowly demon such as himself received the affections of such an angel. His morning and nighty rituals begin and end with the same event—kisses all over your holy body, from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. They’re chaste and fleeting in the beginning, afraid to defile and corrupt you. But oh, he craves to hear the delicacies of your gentle hums and moans when he gets too messy later on and leaves a pretty mark. He knows mere mortals shouldn’t get too close to goddesses, but he can’t help but follow icarus’s steps and hope to touch the sun, you.

Chuuya kisses you like a man drunk in love. Your lips replace the bottle he used to seek comfort so often from, and the taste of red wine could never hold a candle to the taste of you. And not unlike the glasses full of alcohol, he finds himself asking for just one more kiss. They’re bold and clear to the point that he has given himself to you. He’ll proudly kiss the ground you walk on with the same energy he kisses you. He’s lost so many people in his life, and the one thing he wants is to keep you and your kisses all to himself. The finest wine deserves a knowledgeable man who won’t break the bottle.

Fyodor kisses you with the delicate touch of an artist. Every imprint of his lips on your skin is carefully arranged in an ethereal collage of devotion and intimacy. There’s no overdoing it or under-doing it, it’s the perfect amount. His words are always coated in sugary lies and webbed subsidiary secrets, and he opts to express his love through affectionate gestures such as a mere kiss. Being a man of God, naturally he strays away from anything too provocative and heated. Except sometimes in the dead of night, he thinks of Eve and the apple. He shouldn’t have you, no, but he can’t resist forever.

Sigma kisses you like he’ll lose you. The three years he has known this world has only taught him pain, anguish and anxiety. He’s so inexperienced, and he’s afraid that inexperience will frustrate you to the point of leaving him. There’s a bit of everything in a kiss with him, some tongue (he read about it online on a WikiHow article of how to kiss), the shaky hand on your cheek and hip and so much idolization. You lead most of the kisses by proxy, and he lets you. It’s okay if you use him like a toy. He’ll gladly be used as long as you don’t leave.

Nikolai kisses you with all the wild passion he can muster. The lipstick he wears smears across your skin, painting your Cupid’s bow red. Mutters of ‘pretty thing’ and ‘fucking delicious’ leave him with each deepening kiss. It’s a pity he’s thought about setting you free from this world during such a moment. Your heart bleeding around the knife, wails and whimpers of pain muffled by his lips while he guides you through the end of life. The last remnant of the chains holding him down would be gone if your kisses weren’t so hammering onto his soul. Every peck and smooch only solidifies his connection to you and this universe.

Tags: @twst-om-lover, @briars-castle, @little-miss-chaoss, @sinfulthoughtsposts @starrs20

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another-lost-mc · 1 year

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Your First Kiss Headcanons | THE DEMON BROTHERS 2.7k words | NSFW | gn!Reader | Smutty Smooches Content warnings: Pining demons, anxiety/insecurity, mostly fluff and suggestive comments. Some cursing. Certain demons are a bit, uhh...steamier than others.

LUCIFER

The fireplace in Lucifer's private study crackles nearby. He feels warm from the flames, the bottle of Demonus you've been sharing, and your body curled against his.

A comfortable silence falls over you both, and it's natural for his gaze to seek yours. Your eyes are dark, and it's not a trick of the light when he sees your eyes dart down to his mouth.

Your face starts to move closer to his, and the only thing louder than the cursed record playing is the thrum of anticipation and desire that sets his nerves ablaze.

He's imagined this moment longer than he'll ever admit. He's been waiting for a sign that you wanted to go down this path with him, no matter where it leads. Now that he knows what you want, it's too late to turn back now.

Your hand rests on his chest and he can feel your touch through the layers between you - the clothes he wears, and the walls he’s put up to deter those unworthy of him.

He closes his eyes to savor the experience of kissing you for the first time. Your taste makes him lightheaded, and it's more irresistible than the finest vintage of Demonus.

He follows your lead at first, slotting his lips perfectly against yours and enjoying the sensation of your lips moving gently against his own.

When you put a little more heat into the kiss - your tongue tentatively swiping against the seam of his lips as you move your body closer to his - he cradles the back of your head and slides his other hand down to your waist. He pulls you against him and let's a groan rumble in his chest, undeniable proof of his desire and it encourages you to give him more.

It feels like all you've been through together has brought both of you to this moment, and he's been patient long enough. He takes lead of the kiss, his buried feelings for you spilling from his lips to yours, while his passion consumes you both.

MAMMON

Mammon is caught off-guard by your first kiss.

He looked away in embarrassment after telling you, in a very complicated, round-about way, that you meant the world to him.

He pretended to look at something in the distance, but his cheeks were warm. He had to resist the urge not to look at you again, to pretend that you're not the flame he's constantly drawn to.

His feelings for you are overwhelming sometimes. You're just so fucking amazing, and all his - even if you don't realize it yet.

But Mammon is like an open book to you; you know how he feels, how he's always felt about you.

When he looks at you again, he's startled when your face is suddenly so close to his.

You lean forward and give him a kiss - it's quick, and it's not perfect - but he gets the hint of what you're trying to tell him: You mean the world to me, too.

He sputters about how you shouldn't go around surprising demons like that, and he almost thinks the kiss is supposed to be a joke, but he knows that's not true. It can't be, not when you're looking at him like he hung the moon, and your smile is wide and hopeful.

The happiness in his chest threatens to bubble over, and he knows he'll never forget this moment.

Fuck it. He wraps a hand around the back of your neck and pulls you back in for another kiss. It's still not perfect - you're both smiling so it's a bit clumsy, and your teeth clack together.

He wants more of you - he'll always want more. He wants to pull you close and hold your body against his, and he wants to plunder your mouth with his tongue, but not now. Not here.

He nips your bottom lip before he reluctantly pulls away, and he practically drags you back home to continue this in private.

LEVIATHAN

Levi didn't see the big deal about giving you the collectible game figure you wanted - so why the hell did you lean over and kiss him?!

It was over almost as soon as it began, a quick kiss against the corner of his mouth after you thanked him.

You're too focused on your new toy to notice Levi short-circuiting beside you on the sofa in his room.

His breathing is a bit erratic, and he rubs his sweaty palms on the denim of his jeans.

His throat is scratchy and dry all of a sudden, but licking his lips doesn't help - especially not when he tastes the evidence of your kiss: the sweet, sticky residue from the bag of candies you shared earlier.

He crosses his legs until he can discretely pull a pillow into his lap to hide the growing bulge between his legs.

You're talking excitedly about something, but he can't make out the words - his mind is still reeling from the implications of why you kissed him.

The kiss couldn't have been an accident - you leaned over on purpose, and he felt your chest press against his arm so your lips could reach his.

He thinks that maybe it was a joke at first, or some sort of tease, but he looks at you closely. Your eyes are a bit brighter, and your cheeks are a tinge darker than usual. You keep glancing at him shyly from the corner of your eyes.

He doesn't realize how long he's been freaking out until you ask him if he's alright.

He didn’t notice you spoke to him at first: he was too busy staring at you and your soft, candy-sweetened lips, trying to figure out what he's ever done to deserve you.

He swallows nervously and braces himself when he looks into your eyes properly. "Can we—can we do that again?"

SATAN

Satan’s first thought when you kiss him is that he wishes he had the nerve to kiss you first.

He likes inviting you to his room to read together - his room is lit brightly enough so that you don’t have to strain your human eyes to read the pages of your book.

However, there’s something alluring about the way candlelight and shadow play across your features. It distracts him from the book in his hands as he stares at you fondly instead.

You’re sitting side-by-side on his bed, which he prefers: the scent of the fragrance you wear lingers on his bedding, and sometimes he can still smell you when he goes to sleep.

You thank him for something - lending you one of his rare edition books, something he probably wouldn’t do for anyone else - and you kiss his cheek.

It’s such a sweet, innocent gesture but it still makes his body grow hot. It's not like the raging inferno of his anger, but more like a molten wave of affection that sweeps through him.

He’s not nervous now that he has permission to touch you, and one kiss is not going to be enough to satisfy him.

He cups your cheek and brushes the skin gently with his thumb. You bite your lip to stifle a bashful grin, and he can’t help but press his smile against your own.

His other hand finds yours on his sheets between your bodies, and he nearly whimpers into the kiss when you lace your fingers with his.

Your other hand finds it’s way onto his shoulder and you lean your body closer to his. Perhaps if he were overcome with desire he would wrap his arms around you and pull you down onto the bed.

He doesn’t want to ruin this; he decides this moment is perfect enough. You trade soft, sweet kisses in the cozy haven of his room, where time stands still and only your love remains.

ASMODEUS

Asmodeus wants to kiss you desperately, but he doesn't want you to think you're just another passing fancy in his long list of ex-lovers. He feels like he has a lot to prove to you.

He can't charm his way into your heart, and he knows you want him to be honest and genuine with you.

When he admits that he loves you - more than he's loved anyone before, possibly even more than he loves himself - the cravings begin.

He craves your company, and your touch, and your kiss and your body. He craves you. But he promises himself he won't rush things, and he won't pressure you.

He wanted to go shopping - and buy you something, of course - when some idiot demon on a motorcycle nearly ran you over while you crossed the street together. Asmo wrapped his arms around you and held you close while he cursed the demon who kept driving.

He pulled you into an alley off the main street so he could check on you privately. "Are you alright? You're not hurt, are you? I promise, if I ever see them again, I'm going to—mmph!"

Asmo looked concerned when he examined you for injuries, but he didn't expect you to grab his shirt collar and pull his lips down to yours.

He makes a surprised noise against your lips, then he moans when he realizes you're finally kissing him, and he can't fucking believe it.

His hands roam your body - your shoulders, your back, your hips - and he pulls you even closer as the kiss grows more heated. He can't help it, but neither can you, apparently - adrenaline is a helluva drug.

His kiss is hot and frenzied and desperate, and he feels drunk off your taste, and your lips are so soft, and his nerves tingle every time your tongue glides against his own.

You pull away first, gasping for air even as Asmo tries to chase your mouth because he doesn't want to stop.

His lip gloss feels tacky and it's smeared across his lips and chin. Your mouth is messy too, and your cheeks are flushed, and the way you're staring at him is so fucking hot.

He suddenly decides he's not in the mood to go shopping anymore - but he leads you home by the hand and promises he still has plans to spoil you tonight.

BEELZEBUB

When you're friends, you let Beel pick leftovers off your plate, or you cook him an extra large portion of food. When you start dating, he cares less about food and cares more about other things he'd like to share with you.

He's not distracted by the food on your plate, but the way you moan when you eat something especially tasty, or the way your lips shine after you wet them with your tongue, and he wonders what kissing you will be like too.

Every time sauce or cream clings to the corners of your mouth, he wants to lick your lips clean for you.

He tries to be patient and wait for you to kiss him first. Sometimes you look at him like you're ravenous for him in a way he's never seen before, but he's never been good at self-control when he's starving.

One night he sneaks to the kitchen for a late-night snack, but you're already there. You're leaning against the counter, eating ice cream straight out of the tub, and you freeze guiltily when you realize you've been caught.

Beel's stunned by the sight of you in your pajamas, hidden mostly in shadow with a spoon dangling from your lips when you start to sputter excuses.

He can see that there's a dribble of ice cream, just there, above your lip—

He takes the tub and spoon from you gently - and you smile, because you think he wants to share because he likes that flavour - but you gasp against his lips when he leans down and kisses you.

His lips are soft when they move against yours, and he sucks your bottom lip between his own.

Once the lingering sweetness is gone, all he can taste is you. You taste even better.

He freezes when he realizes what he's doing, and he pulls his hands away from your waist like he's been burned. He starts to apologize, and your face is flushed and he thinks you're upset, but then you ask him to kiss you again.

Oh fuck, you're going to be awful for his self-control.

He kisses you again, and again, and again. He whispers broken praise about how good you taste and how amazing you are between hot, opened mouth kisses against your lips.

When you break the kiss with a pleased sigh, his lips drag along your jaw. He wants more.

You're bracketed between his arms and he's crowding you against the counter. The drawer handle digging painfully into your back forces you to gently push him away.

He knows he's staring at you, and he might be drooling a little now too, but he can't help it.

You feed him the rest of the half-melted ice cream - it would be a waste not to - and lead him from the kitchen to your bedroom, where you can continue things more comfortably.

BELPHEGOR

Belphie is still groggy from sleep when he drapes an arm over your waist. You're both laying in his bed in the attic, and as much as he wants to fall back to sleep, his eyes blink open instead.

You're still sleeping, and your nose makes a cute little whistling noise when you breathe. You're so adorable.

He doesn't consider himself to be the romantic type, but you bring that out in him sometimes. In the dimly lit attic, the fairy lights hanging from the ceiling give you an almost ethereal, whimsical glow.

You look so peaceful when you sleep. Beautiful, gorgeous, mesmerizing—

He scoots a bit closer to you, and he's not sure the blankets covering you both are the reason why he suddenly feels so warm.

You're pouting in your sleep, and you murmur quietly too, and he wonders what you're dreaming about tonight.

He always feels so cozy spending time with you like this, even though you're still asleep. It gives him a chance to think about you, and the things he wishes he had the nerve to do when you're awake.

His head is resting on the pillow beside you, and he brushes his nose against yours. He smiles when you scrunch your nose in your sleep.

He kisses your forehead and cheek next - what isn't smooshed into the pillow, anyway. He peppers kisses along your skin, and he thinks about all the things he likes about you, and the things he wants to do together, and the things he'd like to do for you.

His quick kiss against your lips is impulsive. He's wanted to kiss you for so long, but since you're asleep you'll never know—

He panics when your eyes blink open and meet his.

You stare at each other. He's ready to tell you that whatever you think you felt was just a dream, but then a smile blooms across your face.

He tries to shuffle back from you, but you shuffle forward. He gives up when he's nearly falling off the mattress trying to put some distance from you, and you simply raise an eyebrow as if to ask, "What are you going to do now?"

“Nothing happened,” he says lamely, and the lie sounds as obvious as it feels rolling off his tongue.

“That’s a shame, I was having a nice dream that some handsome demon kissed me.” You roll over and sigh dramatically, and he bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from grinning.

“Handsome, huh?” He follows you - because he’s powerless not to - and leans on his elbow so he can look down at your cute, pouting face. “And how do I compare?"

You reach up and cup his cheek, and he can't resist the urge to nuzzle into your touch. "Nothing compares to you." The sincerity in your voice makes his throat tighten, and his cheeks are on fire, and what is he supposed to say to that?

You grin at him, and your eyes are soft and full of love for him and him alone.

He's determined to kiss that cheeky smile off your face. He lowers his head to yours and kisses you again - properly this time - and hums happily when you move your lips against his like you wanted this as much as he did.

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spacebarbarianweird · 6 months

Text

The Scorching Sun

My desperate attempt to redeem the ending scene

Astarion is running away from the sunlight once the tadpole is gone, and Tav is nowhere to be seen.

Tags: hurt/comfort

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

The excruciating pain pierces Astarion as his skin starts burning.

The sun's searing rays cause agony from which there is no respite. The tadpole's grip finally releases him. Still, as it does, it leaves behind a gaping void, one filled with a mind that races with panic and anxiety, amplifying the horrors that lie ahead.

Astarion is scared. He has never felt so frightened in his life. Not when he awoke in his coffin two centuries ago, dying of hunger and pain. Not when Cazador put him through horrors and torments. Not when he was sealed in the tomb for an entire year. Not when he thought Tav was dying.

Because now he is burning alive.

Astarion desperately looks at his companions seeking support, but instead, he sees disgust on their faces as if without tadpoles they suddenly realize Astarion is a vampire.

He hears a chuckle, probably from Gale, that "Now our friend has to return to shadows" and another voice, "Seems like we won't see him again soon."

Once trusted friends now cruelly mock him, their laughter an eerie cacophony that reverberates in the depths of Astarion's consciousness. Each word stabs his undead heart.

You are nowhere to be seen. You are absent when he needs you the most.

Astarion runs toward the huge crates at the pier, which cast a comforting shadow. Astarion stumbles – he can't see anything; the sun has burnt his eyes. By touch, he finally gets to the shadows, curls up in the corner, and presses his legs to the chest.

Eyesight finally recovers. Astarion hears distant voices – someone laughs, someone cheers. He is jealous. Why can't he be there, with them, in the sunlight? Didn't he suffer too much? Didn't he fight the Brain with the rest? Why, why?

Tears stream down his cheeks. Tears of pain, tears of desperation, resentment, injustice.

Betrayal.

As the sun slowly rises, a merciful shadow retreats, and a harsh ray of light burns Astarion's right leg. The once-safe haven has become dangerous, and despair compels Astarion to seek refuge in the nearest house. The sun continues to scorch him, subjecting him to wave after wave of searing pain.

However, an invisible barrier obstructs his path, granting entry only upon invitation, offering no respite for the vampire. Astarion is left to writhe in the agony of the daylight.

He must go to the Inn. The vampire's invitation is forever, but the city lies in ruins, with only fleeting shadows left. Baldurians cheer, praising the gods for saving them from unimaginable horrors. Amidst the joy and light, Astarion feels like crying, for he knows he doesn't belong here. Life, light, and happiness are not for him; he remains a creature of the night, a monster. His foolish hope for anything else has faded away.

At last, he reaches the Inn. Astarion pushes the door open and collapses on his knees, palms pressed into the wooden floor. The pain clings to his body like acid sweat. The tavern is empty, and Astarion manages to stumble upstairs, each step feeling like an eternity. Even the cruelest tortures in Cazador's mansion did not leave him feeling so helpless and weak.

Finally, he crawls into the room he once shared with you and collapses onto the bed. The dark room envelops Astarion like a lover, providing a shred of safety. The echoes of his former companions' laughter still torment the vampire like cruel ghosts from the past.

In desperation, Astarion questions if he heard your voice. Were your promises of love empty words? Could you no longer want him, and the tadpole was the sole reason for your affection? These tormenting thoughts whirl in his mind, threatening to drown him as hunger and pain draw him closer to the abyss.

The hunger is insatiable, gut-wrenching. The tadpole had once dulled it like a medicine. Now, it is back, threatening to turn Astarion into a feral, mindless monster.

Astarion clenches his fingers, trying to grasp the reality: he is alive, his master is dead, and he is free. But it all means nothing.

Hours pass, and Astarion attempts to enter a trance to escape the agony, but his sunburnt body refuses to cooperate. He longs for respite, for a brief escape from reality, but the pain and dark thoughts overwhelm him.

Yes, he did hear your voice in that laughter, and he envisions an evil grin on your face. Perhaps you despise him and have moved on to someone else. Silent tears stream down his face, bearing witness to the profound betrayal he feels from those he once trusted and loved and to the unending nightmare of his existence.

Then, he hears footsteps. The door swings open.

"Astarion! I should have known you were heading here," you exclaim as you sit on the bed and take his hand.

Astarion looks at you in disbelief. Your face, your voice, your scent. You are back. He wants to grab you, to press his face against your collarbone. But he is so weak he can't move.

"Does it hurt?" you ask. Astarion nods, and you press your lips to his knuckles.

"I'm so sorry. I fainted when the tadpole was removed. When I woke up, they told me you had run away, and I've been trying to find you ever since. Hey, look at me," you gently caress his cheek. "I am here. I'm not going anywhere."

Astarion finally manages to look into your eyes. He sees the same love, care, kind smile, hope, and support he thought he had lost.

"I thought… I thought you were never coming back," he whispers.

"Well, if you had run even further, I would have lost you forever," you say.

The tears prickle his eyes once again. How could he have ever doubted you? What kind of person was he to assume that his lover would betray him?

"You didn't answer if it hurts."

"Like a hellplane," he replies.

"I am so sorry. I truly am."

Astarion finally manages to lift his hands and he presses you against his chest. You roll over and lie beside him, putting your head on his shoulder, and he wraps his right hand around you as you place your hand on his stomach.

There are so many things he wants to say to you but simply can't.

"What are we going to do next?" you ask.

He shrugs. "I don't know. What do you want?"

"Anything that doesn't involve staying in this city. We could settle somewhere…"

"It would be tediously boring," Astarion interjects.

"Agreed. We'll always have time for that. Maybe we should go to the Underdark to help other spawns."

He strokes your hair. "I'm not taking a living person to a den of seven thousand vampires, that's for sure."

Astarion presses you tighter, wanting to feel your heartbeat. Then, a realization washes over him: he is no longer in pain. His skin doesn't burn, and his muscles aren't being torn apart. Your presence alone alleviates his suffering. He kisses your forehead and responds with a smile.

"What do you think about getting away? Traveling with me and seeing the world?" you finally propose.

"Darling, I thought you'd never suggest it. I'm sick of this place."

"And we can find a cure for you. There are probably ways to allow you to walk in the sun or even reverse your vampirism. This world is full of cruel wonders, so why not give it a try?"

He nods and gazes at your face as if trying to memorize every little detail.

"I'm not going anywhere, Astarion," you smile. "Stop looking at me as if I'm going to disappear." You sit up and ask, "Can I kiss you?"

"Only if you promise me something," Astarion counters.

"What is it?"

"Stop asking for permission to touch or kiss me."

"You sure?" you hesitate.

"Yes. Stop treating me as if I'm made of glass. It's you. Your touches can never be unwelcome."

You giggle and kiss him. At that moment, you are the two happiest people in the world.

You both lay in each other's arms until sunset. When night falls, you leave the city walls and enter the wilderness. You continue forward, holding hands as if afraid to lose each other. Astarion's undead heart rejoices. He has everything a man needs.

Freedom.

A woman he loves, who loves him in return.

A future.

He would be a fool to exchange all this for false promises of power.

Suddenly, you stop, wrap your hands around his neck, and press your lips against his. Then, you proceed to kiss his cheeks, his forehead, and everything you can reach while standing on the ground.

He flinches for a second but then hugs you back and tightens his grip.

"Never ask for permission," he whispers into your ear. "You are always invited."

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion romance #astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion x female reader #astarion fics #astarion ending #astarion ancunin #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction #spacebarbarian fics

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tojipie · 6 months

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adah imagine prisoner!toji getting eaten up by his own thoughts one night in his cell. because how can this be satisfying for you? having quick sex once every two months? a girl like you deserves so much better. so he brings it up one time during the visits, and you see how hard it is for him, but still, through gritted teeth he reassures you he wouldn’t blame you for indulging in someone else every once in a while. JUST THE ANGST!! and reader of course being like … what the fuck are you talking ab i jerk off to your pictures?

prison bf toji series linked here <3

content: hurt/comfort, angst

“and then turns out there actually was a fucking rat in his cell,” your boyfriend wheezes, his booming laughs marking the end of the story he’d been telling you for the past half hour.

the visiting hall is bustling today, packed to the brim with the wives, partners, and kids of the state’s incarcerated, all making the drive up right before new years.

you notice the sudden silence as your shared laughs die down, bemused at the inmate’s choice to not keep the conversation going.

“you okay?” you ask, reaching across the table to intertwine your fingers.

except toji doesn’t squeeze your hand like he always does, letting the appendage lay limp in yours.the older man opens his mouth to say something, looking around the busy room with a hint of anxiety behind his eyes.

“do you miss.. how we used to be?” he asks, voice sounding detached.

something sour stirs in the pit of your stomach at the way he’s acting. if the sudden change in ambiance didn’t give you whiplash, his vague question definitely did the job.

“i mean, of course i do,” you laugh nervously, rubbing a thumb softly over his knuckles. the inmate squeezes back this time, quelling the storm of anxiety bubbling in your chest.

“the sex i mean,” he explains, looking up from the floor to speak to you head on. “do you feel.. deprived? are your needs getting met?”

your thumb stills for just a moment as you think it over, though you doubt he even notices. the truth was yes, going from getting fucked every day to getting fucked every 6 or 7 weeks wasn’t exactly ideal. but what else were you two supposed to do? the man was serving a 7 year sentence for christ’s sake.

toji takes your momentary silence as an answer, sitting up straighter before speaking once more.

“i’m just saying if you ever found a man to fill in the gaps then i’d be open to it,” he explains. you notice a hint of unsureness behind his stone facade, catching onto the way his hand begins to fiddle with yours. what was he playing at?

“you’re saying you want me to cheat on you?” you ask, exasperated. where was this even coming from?

“god, fuck,” he sighs frustratedly, running both hands over his face slowly.

“i can’t give you what you need, can’t— not like how we used to,” his voice tapers off at the end like he’s scared to upset you. “shiu’s had a crush on you for years, i’d know he’d take good care of you.”

you step back from the table to gather yourself, pacing in front of the inmate like a woman gone mad. you’re grateful the constant circulation of inmates and visitors in the room is drawing attention away from you, otherwise an officer probably would have come over by now.

you couldn’t even believe what toji was offering to you. seeking out other men— his business partners—to “fill in the gaps”? when the love of your life was only a car drive away? fat fucking chance.

you stalk over to his side of the table, pointing an accusatory finger to his face.

“if you ever..” you pause, blinking away tears, “think that i’d give up on you just because we don’t have sex as often as we did then you’d be fucking crazy.”

you see him audibly flinch when your voice cracks, the weight of your emotions bringing him literal pain. toji’s eyes have gone wide, realizing the implications of his offer.

“i’m sorry baby, fuck, i’m sorry,” he whispers, pulling your face into the curve of his neck despite the harsh restrictions on touch set during visits. you silently thank the bustling crowd again for shielding the two of you, clutching at each other so deeply you think you might just meld into him.

“don’t want anybody but you,” you say with finality, pressing soft kisses to his pulse.

“i know sweetheart, i hear ya.”

you stay like that for the rest of your visit, breathing in each other’s warmth as calloused hands rubs circles into your back. neither of you say anything, not needing to when both do you knew you’d always find a way to make it work.

taglist 🏷️ <3

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