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hanaruri-tunes · 10 months

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The demons’ reactions to Y/N asking them to fuck them (headcanons/short scenarios)

⚠️ As usual MDNI!!!

The MC can be whichever gender you want in this one. (Pretty sure I managed to keep it ambiguous?)

What follows are individual scenarios btw, it’s not MC asking every single one of them at the same time haha (I could write one like that as well though if people like this one? Not sure of how well it would turn out but I could.)

Anyway, enjoy 👇

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Lucifer

He could tell something was different right away. You’re not the type to be shy with them and particularly not him. Sometimes your blatant disrespect towards him is refreshing… sometimes it’s infuriating, and yet here you are now, shifting in place, fiddling with your hands and looking down nervously. It catches his attention right away.

"Is something wrong? Y/N, if something is troubling you, you can tell me. In fact, please do so freely."

"...lease …uck me."

"...Excuse me?"

Surely he heard wrong, no matter how honest you are, there’s no way you would ask something like that with no build up-

"Please, fuck me…"

"..."

Lucifer puts his hand over his mouth, trying to hide his delight in vain. He has always wondered how to go about it, what to plan, how to charm you and get you in the palm of his hands. To think that you would come marching right ahead, falling into his hands on your own just like that. He approaches you, taking you into his arms, feeling up your body against his.

"But of course, no need to be so shy about it. Shall we go upstairs Dear?"

Mammon

Mammon felt like something was a bit different about you tonight. You kept coming closer to him, more than usual, brushing over him, smiling at him in a special way. Were you seducing him? Because if you were, it was 100% effective! But well, wouldn't it be rude to point it out? What if you stop? What if it wasn’t on purpose? So he keeps quiet and you get more and more frustrated with his inaction until it explodes.

"...Don’t you want to fuck me?!"

"Wha- Yes?!?"

Thinking twice? He didn’t even think once. He was surprised for sure but when you ask for something like this, there’s only one correct answer to give. In a flash, he pounces on you.

"Anytime, anyday, whenever you want. Please only come to me Y/N…"

Leviathan

You were harder to handle today than you usually are. Leviathan is used to holding his breath when you hug him or kiss him on the cheek. He’s used to looking away when you bend down or shutting his eyes tight when your face gets too close. But today? Today was different. You kept clinging to him, not giving him any personal space. Constantly praising and teasing him. His heart had skipped at least eleven beats in total, and even that might still be an understatement. Levi ends up breaking, asking you outright if something is wrong.

"C-Could it be that you want something from me? Sorry, I really don’t know um, if uh. Well I just don’t understand where you're getting at."

You hold back the urge to facepalm, well, it’s not like you didn’t see it coming. Leviathan thinks that he’s so unattractive that no one, and especially not you, could ever want him.

You press yourself against him, circling your fingertips on his chest.

"Jeez, you really are an idiot sometimes Leviathan… I want to fuck you. You get it now?"

His third member rises immediately at the request while his mind is still buffering.

"Uhh?? Um, y-yeah? I mean, errr. Are you like, 100- no, 1000% sure? O-Out of all my brothers me??? Isn’t that um, of course I’m not judging but maybe I’m not-"

You kiss him on the corner of his lips, shutting him up.

"I only want you to fuck me, can you do that?"

"Y-Yes. Anything you want...! ♡"

Satan

There he was again, nose stuck in his books. However your perfume caught his attention right away. You always smell nice but this fragrance was different from your usual scent. It was more mature, more seductive, more… He looks up to you, even your clothes show more than usual. Your hairstyle is different as well. Are you going out? So then why did you come to him? He coughs.

"Excuse me for staring. You look very good. Is there a soirée tonight that I’m not aware of?"

You look to the side, a bit flustered. Without a word you sit next to him on the sofa, then you slide your hand on his knee, not daring to go up to his thigh yet.

"...Would you like to fuck me?"

"..."

Silence.

He’s processing your request, making sure he understands your intentions. After a couple of seconds that seemed to go on forever, Satan closes his book and leaves it on the table. Then he leans over you, encouraging your hand to go higher on his thighs.

"Well, since you asked so politely how could I ever turn you down, hm?"

Asmo

He can tell right away what you really want since he is the avatar of lust. However he lets it play out, curious to see how you’ll go about it. Will you be all shy and cute or will you be more confident? He enjoys seeing the gears turning in your head as you’re awkwardly holding your hands together, sweating from the pressure. However he doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable when asking for something as wonderful as sex, especially with him since he is quite the fanatic.

"Relax your shoulders and breathe Y/N♡"

He places his hands on your shoulders, sliding them down your arms then going back up only to fall down again, on your back this time. He starts massaging you, whispering sweet nothings in your ears, making you comfortable and eager rather than nervous and scared.

"...Asmo?"

"Mh-hm?~"

"I’d like you to fuck me, is that okay?"

He stops, then pulls you over. Your back against his chest, he whispers his answer.

"What a coincidence, that’s what I’ve wanted to do to you since the very first time we met♡ How lucky that you asked for it first..."

Beel

Beel is devouring a rotisserie chicken in the kitchen… again. It seems like that’s all he does, everytime you want to find an appropriate moment to ask, well, it never is a good moment. You look at him, your spirits down, readying yourself to leave as usual. Surprisingly, he stops you and invites you to sit down.

"Y/N… Lately you always look sad when I see you. Would you like some? You know if you’re hungry you can always ask me to share."

"That’s not it Beel…"

You look down, discouraged from asking for it. All Beel always thinks and talks about is food anyway. Will he even care if you ask him something like that? Maybe he has no interest in such things, or in you.

Beel puts the food down, looking grim.

"Beel? What’s wrong…?"

"It’s difficult to enjoy the food when you look down, somehow even the taste turns foul when you’re sad."

Your chest feels tight at his words, maybe it would be good to just be honest and get it over with.

"Beel, truth is- Uhh. ... I want you to f-fuck me… But well, I can understand if you’re not interested in that sort of stuf-"

Beel’s eyes light up, his gaze stuck on you.

He takes you into his arms, carrying you out of the kitchen, heading up the stairs.

"B-Beel?!"

"That’s all you wanted? Should’ve said so earlier, I’ll finally be able to quench my hunger for a while."

Belphegor

You came to wake him as you do every morning, since you’re apparently the most skilled at this task according to the others. Still, some days it’s a challenge even for you. Like today for instance: he keeps complaining, bitching and moaning. You’d like to make this easy for the both of you but it’s complicated to keep finding different ways to encourage him to get up. Kisses, hugs, dates, and the exact same offers rarely work for over 3 times in a row. It pisses you off, could it be that he just got tired of you already?

You give up and lie down next to him, sulking and muttering.

"Asshole… What if I asked you to fuck me. Bet you wouldn’t even care, hm?"

Belphie’s eyes shot wide open, then he turned over to you. Extremely attentive to your every move and word.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. Only good boys who get up at reasonable times have a right to have a go at me."

He clings onto you greedily, begging you to repeat.

"Come on, pleeease? I’ll get up right away if you ask for it."

"Nope, too late to smother me now."

He puts his hand on your waist, grabbing it firmly and pulling you towards him into the bed.

"...Please? I’ll make you feel so good you’ll be the one to ask to stay in bed."

You ponder it for a bit… Well. Truthfully, you do want him so- Shyly, you ask him.

"Mh. Then um. Will you fuck me good…?"

You feel him smile against your neck, and he answers.

"I promise I won’t let you go until you’re completely satisfied with me. ♡"

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Doneee.

And my askbox is open just so y’all know, no promises on anything but do know that anything you send will definitely be seen/read even if I might not be able to answer to everything! I don’t know if I can say that my "commissions" are open but if you send me ideas and I like them, there is a chance I might write some stuff based on them 🫰

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me smut #om! leviathan #om! belphie #om! satan #om! beelzebub #om! lucifer #om! mammon #om! asmodeus #obey me!#reader #y/n #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #hanaruri writes

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uyuuma · 1 month

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“ HIT ME WITH YOUR KILLSHOT, BABY ”

hitman!toji x fem!reader ღ MDNI.

❥ summary. he was just on another job, why did you have to go and make it more difficult? normally he isn't sloppy with his work but you were a witness and he had to deal with you somehow.

❥ warnings. nsfw, female anatomy, murder (toji's target dead as hell), gun mentioned, choking, reader being tied up, rough handling, degradation, biting, unprotected sex etc.

❥ a/n. sorry for inactivity recently... having a little bit of writers block fr. decided to just write anyways. (no but my requests are open y'all gimme some ideas!!!) but yeah as soon as i sit in front of my screen im like 'i could write but i think imma play some more valorant' lmaoo

❥ wc. 5.2k

You sighed as you walked down the narrow urban streets of the big city. Your heels clacked on the pavement and the cold air stung your exposed shoulders. Why did you decide to go out? It was just another shitty night at the club, where the loud music was overwhelming and creepy men hit on you constantly.

"Tonight was a bust." You said under your breath, hands clutching onto your elbows trying to conserve warmth. Your breath was warm and you could see it travel as if you blew smoke into the air.

You should've just stayed home and cuddled up next to your cat, watching YouTube or Netflix. Instead you found yourself walking alone on the quiet streets, not even cars were driving by. It was almost eerie how deserted the city was around you. Perhaps it was because it was 2 in the morning, but it still sent shivers down your spine thinking about how dangerous it was to walk alone.

All you have to do is get to the bus stop, there was a bus scheduled to come by at 2:30 am. You clutched onto the little pocket knife that was disguised as a hair comb in your purse. It wasn't much, but it was something at least.

Lost in thought, you didn't realize there was a scuffle happening in the upcoming alley way you were walking up to. Sounds of someone struggling and choked back cries. It took the sound of something cracking violently to make you look up in shock. You turned the corner carefully to a sight most horrifying for a girl alone on the streets.

A large man was standing over another one who was slumped over onto the dirty floor. Crimson pooling onto the cement below his head, traveling slowly over to the other man's shoe. Your jaw dropped at the sight, breath caught in your throat. What the hell did you just walk in on?

"Disgusting, it touched my shoe." a raspy voice scoffed. The voice was aimed away from you, since the man hadn't noticed your presence yet. He had a silenced pistol in his hand and as it dangled above the floor, you realized that's what made the cracking sound. Your eyes widened realizing this might be a real-life hitman. He was dressed in a suit and his gun had modifications that no normal criminal would have.

The man angrily slid his black dress shoe on the cement, trying to clean the blood off of it.

You gasped at the realization that you did not belong in this situation at all and turned around to run back towards the club. You'd rather take your chances at the club than continue walking past the alleyway to get to the bus stop. Unfortunately, your gasp had not only alerted the man, but also your clacking heels colliding with the pavement when you turned.

The man looked behind to see you turning tail and booking it, a disappointed groan escaping his throat. How could he have been caught? Who the hell is taking a leisurely stroll at this time of night? All he could do was chase after you, he had no choice. He couldn't leave any witnesses behind.

As he turned the corner to see you running, he noticed that you took your heels off to run barefoot. He smirked, thinking you to be clever for at least not being dumb enough to sprint in heels. Unfortunately for you, he was a professional and knew exactly how to catch up to you.

You could swear you put enough distance between you and that horrific murder scene, all you could hear was the pounding in your chest and your exasperated breath. You took just a fleeting second to stop running and catch your breath, resting your hands on your knees as you inhaled and exhaled carefully.

In a matter of moments someone roughly grabbed you from behind and wrapped strong arms around your neck. You let out a strained scream as your hands clawed at the bulging biceps that held a tight grip on your delicate throat. Your lungs burned with the sensation of being strangled from behind, you desperately kicked and clawed to the best of your ability. To no avail, you could feel your vision become blurry.

"Pretty thing like you shouldn't be out alone at this time of night." The man whispered into your ear as you lost consciousness.

His muscles began to relax as you became limp in his arms. It would take only another 10 seconds to kill you, but a part of him couldn't bring himself to. He decided he'd take you with him and figure out a plan later. First and foremost, he needed to clean up the body of his target. Once he finished his job, he could deal with you.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・✭・.

After some time, you slowly awoke to the feeling of a cold cement floor. You were laying on your side and your neck was still sore from prior events. You tried to open your eyes, but realized you were blindfolded by something. You went to swallow from the dry feeling in your mouth but felt that you were gagged as well. What a nightmare this whole situation is, at least you weren't dead right?

You started to squirm, trying to get yourself free from whatever was binding you. Nothing worked though, whoever tied you up knew exactly what they were doing. You started to panic as most of your senses were stripped from you, the only thing you had left was smell and sound.

Sound may have been your enemy in this moment though, as it made your mind race from the anticipation of hearing footsteps enter the room. The footsteps echoed loudly, ringing in your head as you froze in fear. From how the sounds reverberated in the room, you could tell you were in a large, empty space.

You laid on the floor, helplessly, mind wondering what the hell was going to happen to you. If this man didn't just kill you right away what other sadistic things did he have planned? Or perhaps he was going to hold you for ransom? Fuck, whatever it was it couldn't end well for you.

The footsteps came closer and closer until they stopped next to you. A gust of air that blew down on you indicated that he lowered himself onto one knee to get a closer look. You could smell cologne and a faint metallic aroma, what you assumed to be the blood on his shoes. You felt two strong fingers press against your neck. The feeling caused you to jolt in shock.

"Well, you're certainly not dead." The voice said with slight amusement. It was the same deep voice that you heard in the alleyway, there was no mistaking who this was. He slid his fingers off your neck, knowing he didn't have to check for a pulse if you were moving on your own.

His eyes scanned your form, how it was obvious you just came back from a night out. The way you wore a revealing dress and your hair was all done up, well until he roughed it up a bit.

"Someone came back from a night of fun, I see." He said mockingly as he ran his hand through your hair. "Precious thing like you shouldn't be out there alone, what're you stupid?" He asked yanking your hair slightly.

Your little muffled whimpers made him chuckle. "See what happens when you go out by yourself? You end up bound and gagged like this." He was thoroughly enjoying your panicked squirms and whines when he looked down at his watch. He saw that it was already getting close to sunrise. He needed to figure out what he was going to do with you.

"Alright, well I gotta figure a way for you to keep your mouth shut." The voice said as you heard him rustling through something. You heard items fall onto the floor next to you, terrified at what they might be. You then heard him let out an amused laugh.

"Did you think this tiny thing would stop someone? Oh sweetheart, you're too naive." He tossed something plastic on the floor as he continued to go through a bag of some kind.

It hit you that he was talking about the tiny blade you kept in your purse. He was going through your belongings in your purse!

"Cute name and you're still pretty young." He said as you assumed he was reading the info off your ID. "Be a real shame to cut that life of yours so short." You could tell he said that with a wide grin.

Your panic heightened at the implication that he might have to kill you after all, you were ready to plead for your life. Even if you couldn't talk at this very moment, your body flailed trying to protest the very idea.

"Chill, I'd never kill such a pretty little thing such as yourself." He said continuing to dig through your purse.

"But I don't know... if you keep resisting like that maybe I will." He taunted as he pulled something else from the purse, something that was lodged into the deep crevices of the bag.

"A condom huh?" He said as his voice piqued with interest. He admired the thin packaging between his two large fingers.

"Ah hah, I see what you were doing now." He pulled down your blindfold so that you could look at him.

Your vision adjusted as you squinted. You looked around briefly and saw that you were in what looked to be an abandoned warehouse. Your gaze then fixed on the man that held you captive.

Your eyes widened as you came to the realization that he was... really hot? His eyes had a piercing, dark gaze and he had a small scar on the corner of his lips. His black hair was shaggy and it covered his eyes almost. He seemed to take off his black jacket from earlier, which left him in just a white button up. His muscles and large shoulders could barely be contained by the shirt. The fabric clung onto his large frame and it was mesmerizing. You were lost in his features, not realizing you were practically gawking at him.

"Did you just fall in love?" He smirked down at you, pulling the blindfold off of you. His black gloves glistened as he gripped the fabric of the blindfold.

You looked away in embarrassment, how could you gawk at someone who had you tied up on the floor? Seriously, get a grip girl.

He eyed the condom and then looked down at you with a mischievous smirk. "Did you go out in hopes for some good dick?" He said playing with it between his fingers.

You stared at him in silence. Your mind went blank.

"Bitch, answer me when I ask you a question." He said as his expression changed to annoyance.

You quickly nodded, trying not to get on his nerves. So what if you went out in hopes of getting laid? You were going through a dry spell and wanted someone to blow your back out. Was that so hard to ask for?

"Hmm, this might work out then." The man said as he held his chin in thought. He looked back down at you and smiled.

"How about a deal then..." He leaned down closer to your face so that he could whisper.

"I fuck your pretty little brains out and you pretend like you saw nothing. Got it?" He said as he tilted his head to the side.

"I mean it's that or I shoot your pretty little brains out. I don't know, your choice." He added on with a shrug.

You writhed against the floor trying to plead with him for your life, but you were still gagged.

"Oh right, can't understand you." He pulled the saliva soaked gag out of your mouth and quickly clamped his own hand over your lips.

"Oh and just a little warning, it is not a good idea to scream." He said coldly, hand clutching at your jaw a little too hard.

You nodded in his grasp, face heating up from how close he was to you. He smiled and let go of your jaw.

"Good girl, now tell me what you'd like." He said adjusting the collar of his shirt.

"P-please don't kill me, sir." You mewled out as your eyes welled up with tears.

He groaned in dissatisfaction and rolled his eyes. "The name's Toji and I told you I won't have to kill you because you have another option." He picked up your chin with his hand and got close enough to your face to feel his breath hot on yours.

"Not many men in my position would even give you an option. Now, tell me what you want." He softly dragged his thumb across your soft lips. A smirk creeped onto his face as he enjoyed your terrified expression.

You hesitated to respond for a moment. "P-please fuck my pretty little brains out... I won't tell a soul about what happened today." You couldn't believe the words you were saying right now. I mean, you were only saying what you needed to, to live right?

"See, you're a smart girl after all." Toji said with a wide grin. He carefully undid the ropes that bound you. The ropes left small burns and a bruise, but other than that you were virtually unharmed. He helped you off of the floor and handed you back your purse.

You looked at him confusedly as you held your purse. Was he letting you go?

"What? Did you think I was some sort of monster who'd fuck you on the cold floor? Nah, a pretty girl like you deserves at least a plush hotel bed." He said moving some of your hair behind your ear.

Your face warmed up from his sudden chivalrous attitude. You found it almost suspicious how kind he was.

He then crushed the little plastic comb knife beneath his foot.

"Don't try anything fucking stupid though. I hope you're clever enough to know you shouldn't take my kindness for granted." He said as he twisted his shoe against the plastic remnants.

You could only nod as you swallowed the knot growing in your throat.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・✭・.

The car ride was silent, the tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife. He was quiet and kept his eyes on the road. You looked at the time on the dashboard and saw that it was already 4 am.

He parked the car and came around to your door to let you out. You quietly stepped out and held onto your purse as he closed the door.

Without a word, he walked in front of you to the hotel and held the door open. He motioned you to walk in, a faint smile on his lips.

You could run, right now. You could run and scream and call for help. It would be over in an instant for him if you did.

Yet, his confident smile made you realize that he knew you wouldn't. He knew through digging in your bag that you needed this. You needed him badly.

You walked slowly through the door, hips swaying seductively as you walked by him.

He glanced at your ass and cleared his throat as he followed you in.

"Sorry sir, we have no vacant rooms at this time. Maybe you'd like to try-" The old man looked up from his computer and his eyes widened.

"My apologies Toji, we'll get a room for two ready right away." He said hurriedly, punching in a number into the phone on his desk.

You looked up at him shyly, wondering how his mere presence was enough to get him a room on a whim.

"Just the many perks of my job." He said, leaning down to softly speak into your ear.

"Here's your room key Toji, it is on the top floor for you and your missus." The old man said, placing the card into Toji's hand.

"Not my missus yet, maybe after tonight she'll be convinced." Toji chuckled. "Thanks ol' man." He said as he grabbed your hand.

He led you to the elevator where you two stood in silence on the ride up. Your breathing became harder to control as you felt the anticipation grow in your gut.

The elevator dinged as you reached the top floor. He walked out first, heavy footsteps could be heard on the carpeted floors of the hallway. When you guys reached the door he scanned the card and let you walk in first. You walked in carefully, observing the room around you. It was like a penthouse suite... clearly the stuff reserved for the wealthy.

Your mouth hung open as you looked out the massive window overlooking the rest of the city. This man must live a life of luxury with the money he makes off of killing people.

Toji walked behind you and grabbed your chin with his strong hand. He let out a low groan into your ear.

"Nice isn't it? Maybe if you blow my mind tonight, you could live like this everyday." He said, his voice sounding sultry. He slipped his thumb past your lips. He let out a satisfied huff feeling your warm tongue glide against his finger.

You sucked on his thumb and it drove him crazy already, he needed more and he needed it fast. He quickly lowered himself so that he could pick you up bridal style. You shakily gain balance in his arms before he throws you onto the big fancy bed.

You landed on your butt, your heels hanging off your foot from the fall. Toji stood in front of the foot of the bed and unbuttoned his shirt, letting it slide off his broad shoulders. It was dark in the room, but you could see the moonlight illuminate the scars that decorated his upper body. You looked at his figure not only in awe, but worry seeing how his job took a toll on his skin.

His giant chest heaved as he took your trembling body in. You looked delicious, like he could devour you in a matter of seconds. He crawled onto the bed, between your legs. He took your heels and threw them across the large room.

"Kinda glad you walked in on me during the job." He said tracing his hands along your body. Every curve of yours was tantalizing and he wanted to savor every little moment he had you.

Your breath hitched as you let out small whines from his touch.

"Toji..." You muttered out his name and it was like music to his ears.

"Yes, don't worry baby." He said sweetly as he moved his hands down to the hem of your dress. He lifted up your dress and observed the sheer tights that stood in his way. He frowned slightly and pushed his fingers against your clothed cunt.

You gave out a pathetic mewl as he slowly pushed his finger against the fabric.

He became impatient and lifted your right leg over, twisting your torso so that your lower body was on one side. He slid his hand along your thigh to your ass where he gripped onto your tights. You could hear him tear at your tights with a 'RIP' sound. You whimpered feeling his strong grip tear a big hole into the crotch of your leggings.

"That's much better." He said satisfied. He moved your leg back over so that you were spread out for him.

Your face grew hot as he moved your panties out of his way. He brought his gloved hand to his mouth and took it off using his teeth. He grabbed the glove with the same hand and tossed it away. He rubbed his bare finger against your slit, gathering your wetness so that he could enter you easily.

His hands were huge, fingers thick and rough from the callouses. Just a single finger entering you made you squeak from how he stretched you out.

"Fuck, you're really tight." He said almost in disbelief. He moved his middle finger deeper, down until he was buried to his knuckle in your warmth. He smiled, feeling how you clenched around his singular finger.

"Oh sweetheart, you're going to break so easily." He said as he slowly moved his finger inside of you. He reveled in how you squeezed your thighs together, as if you were trying to cut off circulation to his hand. He responded to your desperate moans and arching back by adding another thick finger into your hole.

"Toji!" You squealed out gripping onto the soft sheets.

He chuckled seeing how easily you crumbled beneath him. He slipped his left arm under the small of your back and swiftly scooted your body up the bed, as if you weighed nothing. He carefully laid your head onto the pillow, your head was just below the headboard now. He shuffled so that he could lay on his stomach, his head comfortably between your legs.

You gasped feeling his warm tongue begin to lap up your juices. His tongue found your sensitive clit, skillfully flicking against it while thrusting his fingers in and out of your soaking pussy.

Your moans became louder as you squeezed your thighs around Toji's head. Any lesser man wouldn't be able to handle how tightly you crushed him between your thighs. But this was Toji, he could handle your intense grip, in fact he loved it.

He groaned into your pussy, closing his mouth to suck onto your sensitive bud. The fingernails on his left hand began to sink into your soft thighs as his other hand continued to plunge deep into your cunt. He picked up the pace, the sounds of your moans and the wet squelches of your needy pussy filled the room.

You soon found yourself spasming uncontrollably, your eyes darting to the back of your head as you felt your climax approach. Your hands gripped onto Toji's hair as you arched your back, moaning loudly as you came on his fingers and tongue.

"F-fuck! Hnnn...Toji..." Your cunt clenched around his fingers as you rode your high. Your fluids started to leak onto the bed sheet.

He withdrew his fingers and gave them a good cleaning with his mouth. His two fingers parted from his mouth with a trail of spit. He watched as you lay there, out of breath.

"What are you so tired for? I did all the work." He asked jokingly. He smirked and spread your legs nice and wide for himself again.

He undid the button on his pants and took them off. He then moved to take off your dress, not wanting to rip the pretty thing off like he did with your tights. He tossed both pieces of clothing to join the rest that were on the floor.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous." Toji admired your body. He took his right hand to cup your tit carefully, infatuated by how soft it was. His massive hands moved to play with both of your tits, massaging your chest roughly.

Your body trembled from the overwhelming sensations, you weren't sure how much more of this you could handle.

"Shit, I'm so hard right now it's not even funny." Toji said as he pulled at the waistband of his underwear.

You looked down to see how painfully constrained he was inside of his boxers. The imprint was massive and it caused your eyes to widen and your face became pale.

"Like what you see?" Toji let out a small laugh as he freed his erection from his boxers. His cock was heavy, even when it was hard it hung from the sheer weight of it.

You bit your lip, anticipating how something that thick could ever fit into your hole. Even though you were terrified, that warm feeling in your gut returned. You knew that regardless of how tight you were, he was going to make it fit.

"Alright, since you had one on you, I'll just use that." Toji said, grabbing the condom that you had in your purse. He used his teeth to tear open the wrapper and took the rubber out of the packaging. He went to put it on but laughed as he tried to unroll it.

"Baby, this is not big enough for me." He said holding up the half-rolled condom. He chucked it into the trashcan and sighed.

"Was worth a try, guess I'm going in raw." He said, pretending to be disappointed.

"W-Wait!" was all you could yell out before he lined himself up with your hole. His tip prodded at your entrance, trying desperately to push himself in. You gasped and clutched onto his shoulders as he slowly entered your little cunt.

"Goddamn, this is going to be a struggle huh?" He said, his voice strained as he tried to get just the tip in.

"Fuck." Toji cursed as he withdrew his cock. He spit onto your pussy and rubbed it in with his thumb, trying to get you nice and wet.

"You already came and I ate you out, how much prep does that tight little pussy need?" He complained as he stuck his tip back into your entrance.

You clenched your teeth as you felt him finally sink into your pussy. Whines escaping your mouth as he stretched you out, your hole being filled up like never before.

He grunted as his fat cock buried its way into your cunt, his hands holding the back of your knees as he pushed his entire weight against you.

Your vision became blurry from the tears that formed in your eyes. Your body was doing its best to adjust to his size, but it was just too much for you.

"s'too much Toji..." You slurred out as you could feel him bottoming out. You looked into his eyes with a fucked-out expression, mouth hanging open as drool slid down your chin.

"Too much? Already?" Toji asked mockingly. He pushed your leg against your chest, your tights tearing even more from this new angle.

"We've only just started." Toji smiled as he withdrew his cock only to slam it back into your cunt.

You squealed from his hips slamming into you and it caused him to chuckle. He only picked up the pace and continued to roughly thrust into you from your reactions.

"So. Fucking. Fragile." He grunted through gritted teeth while relentlessly pounding into your pussy. God, the way your cunt gripped onto his cock was euphoric. He swears he could cum right now if he wasn't taking his time.

He bucked his hips and folded you underneath him to get an even better position. With you bent in half beneath him, he could reach even deeper into your pussy, slamming that sweet spot that makes you scream.

Your screams were muffled however, since he hungrily pressed his lips against yours. His tongue explored your mouth, dominating your tongue in the process. His eyes were closed, enjoying the bliss of the moment. Your eyes were open, unfocused and rolling into the back of your head from the overstimulation.

Your stomach started to ache from the feeling of him stuffing you full to the hilt. But that giant knot in your core was still begging to be released. You could feel yourself getting closer to climax with every thrust. "Fucking slut... you're squeezing me so good." Toji groaned out of breath. Your bodies were becoming sticky from sweat. Toji hung his head down by the crook of your neck as he continued pounding your sore little pussy. You sunk your fingernails into his solid back, clawing at the flexed muscles.

He liked the feeling of you tearing up his back and decided it was only fitting to hurt you back. He bit down onto your neck with a growl as he bullied himself harder against your tender cervix. Your little cries of pain made him only bite harder. He sucked on the bitemark, leaving a nice little welt for you to remember him by.

"I wanna cum Toji... please..." you weakly asked as your legs shook from the intense pleasure mixed with pain.

"'Course baby, anything you wish for." He cooed as he grinded his pelvis against yours. His cock not only hit that sweet spot, but his pelvis stimulated your clit as well, driving you over the edge.

Your legs gave out, your jaw went slack and your nails dug into Toji's back so deep that it drew blood. "C-Cumming!" Was all you could mutter out as you climaxed, even harder than the first time. You felt ecstasy for the first time in forever, Toji delivering on his promise to fuck your brains out. Your mind was still foggy from the heavenly orgasm, even when Toji fucked you at an incredible speed, all you could feel was your muscles tensing.

"Holy shit, you're clamping onto me like crazy." Toji grunted out as he gripped onto the headboard, the bed creaking as he fucked you into the mattress. "Gonna cum so hard..." He mumbled under his breath. His thrusts became sloppier and less coordinated as he focused on finishing. He looked at your face and smiled seeing the cock-drunk expression on it.

Your whole body was spent, your hands no longer clawing at his back and your legs dangling above you. He could tell he wore you out well.

He thrusted into you a couple of times for good measure and then withdrew himself.

"F-Fuck, I'm cumming..." Toji groaned and pumped his cock with his hand before shooting his hot seed all over your tits. His load was thick and hot, some of it shooting far enough to coat your lips.

"Damn, turns out I also haven't had a good fuck in a while." He said out of breath, admiring how far you made his cumshot go.

You couldn't really respond with how tired you were. You just licked your lips, savoring his salty load. You maintained eye contact with him as he watched you seductively lick your lips.

"Haha, be careful now. I won't ever let you go if you look at me like that." Toji said parting your sweaty bangs out of your face.

Toji took some tissues from the bedside stand and cleaned you off, being careful not to make an even bigger mess. He threw the napkins into the trash and lazily fell next to you. He sighed, looking up at the ceiling.

"I mean as long as you don't snitch, you're free to go." Toji said in a bored tone. His hands resting behind his head.

"Don't wanna go." You said in a whiny voice. You shifted onto your side, facing him. Your soft hands traced his arm lovingly. Any man who could fuck you like that wasn't leaving your life that easily.

Toji smirked and looked down at you, hand resting on your hip.

"Was hoping you'd say that." He said before kissing you on the forehead.

The sunlight started to come in through the window. You blocked the light with your hand, your eyes assaulted by the sudden shine. Toji groaned and clicked on the remote to close the automatic curtains. Darkness once again enveloped your bodies. You smiled and rested your head against Toji's chest.

Guess the night wasn't a bust after all, you ended up with a hot, rich boyfriend by the end of it. I mean, sure he kills people for a living but, only you needed to know that.

#female reader #jjk #jjk smut #jjk x fem!reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jjk toji #toji smut #toji x you #fushiguro toji

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primofate · 2 years

Text

You faint during an argument/disagreement [Genshin Impact] (Part 1)

Summary: You’ve been feeling under the weather for the whole day, you just didn’t bother to tell him nor anyone, thinking that the headache would go away. He doesn’t notice at all due to him getting caught up with some work, or in general just having a bad day himself.

Notes and credits: Wholly inspired by minejiro.tumblr.com (They’re inactive now, according to the blog, but they wrote a Haikyuu one a while ago and I loved their rendition of it so much that I just had to bring it over to Genshin. I asked them for permission a while ago and they agreed :D)

Characters: Tartaglia, Diluc, Zhongli, gn!reader

Warnings: might have some harsh words/arguments, fainting spells, feeling unwell, panic attacks/hyperventilating maybe, not proofread, you and the genshin character live together, I seriously had trouble writing about what you might argue about with Diluc and Zhongli because these two are usually calm and collected. Not really a disagreement on Zhongli’s part, maybe just a misunderstanding. zhongli changes your clothes but its completely innocent.

Tartaglia

Could have a short-temper, depending on how his day has gone.

He adores you and thinks you’re his whole world but he does get some stressors once in a while, mainly because he works in the Fatui

Could easily overlook things when he has a lot of things on his mind

He comes home today tired and rather annoyed. Something about Dottore not taking his suggestions seriously, and Pierro never taking his side. It must be one of those Harbinger meetings again. He always seemed to be in a sour mood after one.

He hangs his coat on the hanger by the door, kicking his boots off and wanting nothing more than a hot bath, a quiet dinner and spending some rest and relaxation with you. “Y/N?” he calls through the house and you, half awake on your shared bed, stir a little, pushing yourself up with difficulty.

It feels so hot, despite the cold country you were in. “Tartaglia, welcome home. I’m just in the room,” you call out, stilling to hear his response. Tartaglia thought it was a little weird, cause you would usually come up to greet him when he arrived, but he just guessed that you were busy with something in the room.

“Alright! I’m taking a bath first, love,” he shouts. “Have you eaten?” He asks and you answer after a short pause, mostly because you found it difficult to even concentrate on keeping upright, and you wondered if you could handle preparing dinner today.

“I haven’t, I’ll get it ready when you finish,” Still, maybe you just needed to walk around a little and get some fresh air. So, as he took his time in the bathroom you struggled to make dinner, in the end you only made enough for him, seeing as you didn’t have an appetite today.

“Here you go,” You smile at him as he dries his hair, putting down the meal in front of him. If he wasn’t busy, he actually cooks a lot for you too, it just so happened that it was your turn today.

He blinks when he sees that there’s only one set of food just enough for him. He narrows his eyes, a little disappointed that you didn’t seem to be planning on eating with him. He was looking forward to spending a bit of time with you.

“You’re not eating?” He asks and you shake your head.

“No, I don’t feel like it,” you simply reply and you hear him scoff a little.

“Don’t feel like it? Well, that’s okay. Are you at least going to sit and talk with me while I eat?” He looked as if he wanted to vent about something, but your head was really bothering you now.

“...Actually I was just planning on going to bed early today...” You breathe out, your eyes dart up to the ceiling, it looks to be swaying a little.

“...You know, I wonder why you’re so tired. You had a day off today,” Tartaglia’s voice borders on mocking, as if accusing you of doing nothing all day and yet going to bed earlier than him who was at work till late.

“I’m not feeling well Tartaglia, that’s all,” You quip back with a sigh and move away to get yourself a glass of water. The clink of cutlery against the plate signals to you that he started eating, but not before he mutters a resentful “Suit yourself...”

You ignore him, having no energy at all to argue and bring back the glass of water with you to the room. You left the bedroom door open, just to get a bit of air circulation, but you stop in your tracks when the walls start to turn into squiggles, your perception of reality starts to distort and you try your best to tell yourself the bed is just there, just a few steps away.

A sharp pain attacks your temples and you drop the glass, it shattering on the floor just before you yourself come toppling down on your side, blacked out.

Tartaglia freezes at the sound, he’s midway to taking a bite of the stabbed steak on his fork but he retracts it to call out to you again. “Y/N?” You’ve disappeared into the room already and he can’t see what’s going on, but the sound had alarmed him. He waits a few seconds, before he drops his cutlery and pushes his chair back to stand and check on you.

“Y/N?” He repeats, walking at a leisurely pace over to the room. His mouth falls open at the sight of shattered glass but his throat closes up at your unconscious form. “Y/N?!” He hurries next to you and cradles your upper body in his arms, patting your cheek to get some sort of response from you. “Y/N, hey,” he gently tries to coax you into waking up, but realizes that it’s not working.

Now he’s conscious of the way your face flushes pink, and now it dawns on him that you really weren’t feeling well, your forehead was burning up. He picks you up and sets you down on the bed, calling for a doctor immediately.

“Are they okay?” Tartaglia asks once the doctor was done checking up on you. The doctor shrugs. “Not to worry, it’s just a simple fever. They’ll be fine with some bed rest,” The relief that spreads through his being is unreal. For a moment he thought it was something serious, you’d never fainted before, and he was also just guilty that he didn’t spot it out sooner.

When you woke up he was still awake and sitting on a chair next to you, there’s a damp cloth on your forehead and it takes you a moment to piece together what happened. You sighed and closed your eyes again, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pass out, it was just--” and you started to feel nauseous again.

Tartaglia gave you a stern look. “Don’t apologize for that, stop thinking too much and rest,” You obeyed as he continues. “You could’ve told me earlier that you were feeling unwell,” he rants.

“I DID tell you I was feeling unwell, you were just being snappy today,” you state as a matter of factly. That makes him open his mouth then close it again, defeated by your statement.

“...I know, I’m sorry... That wasn’t...my best moment,” he admits and has a look of regret on his face. You sigh and shake your head a little, used to his tantrums from time to time. He asks you once again, now willing to make up for it and make amends. “Is there anything I can do for you? Do you need anything? You haven’t eaten so I made some food in case you were hungry,”

And there’s the doting Tartaglia that you knew. The one that always listened to your beck and call, he’s like putty in your hands, just melts at the sight of you. “I’m alright honey, I just need some sleep. Come join me? You must be tired as well,”

He sighs again, unsatisfied with how little he has done but relents and leans forward to land a kiss on your forehead. “Alright, but wake me up if you feel worse, got it?”

Diluc

Has deep-set issues, particularly when it came to family.

You’ve always tried to repair his relationship with Kaeya but soon noticed that it probably wasn’t your business, despite Diluc respecting you a lot and putting your opinions in high regard.

He was just a little sensitive when it came to topics like that.

“It was just a suggestion ‘Luc. You don’t have to think too much about it,” Said suggestion was you wanting to spend your birthday with your beloved partner, but also the Knights of Favonius. However, you weren’t really one for eating out or fancy dinners, so you suggested that your birthday lunch could be done in the mansion, essentially suggesting that you wanted to invite them to Diluc’s house.

Maybe you imposed too much, but Diluc’s face fell the moment that suggestion came out into the open. “You say not to think too much about it but this is something that YOU want, it’s your birthday wish, how can I say no?” he counters and you can feel a petty argument coming up.

Your hand absentmindedly massages your forehead as you sit at the long table, eyes closed and focusing on the soothing sensation. “I have other birthday wishes Diluc, and I’m flexible, we don’t have to do something that you don’t want,”

“And like I said, this is the FIRST suggestion you made, which means that you must like this idea the most,” He crosses his arms over his chest, gaze lingering over you, clearly disappointed.

“I didn’t mean for it to come off like that, I promise we don’t have to do this. It’s selfish of me to assume that I can use your house for anything I want anyway,” You attempt to give him a small smile, but he looks to be past being nice.

“I wish you had thought about that before saying anything,” He continues, gaze stern. “Instead of spilling it out and making me feel as if I have no choice in the matter,”

“It.was.a.suggestion.” You say in between grit teeth. This wasn’t helping the intense headache you were having right now.

“Clearly you haven’t been listening at all,” Your eyes snap up to look at Diluc, he had never taken that tone towards you before. He sounded extremely displeased. “If you MADE the suggestion, then it means that it’s something that you WANT. Is this something that’s not clear to you?”

You wince at the tone he takes, somehow a part of you starts to unravel, as if you feel like you don’t know this person in front of you. “Diluc, that’s not--”

“And for someone like me, who only wants the best for you, I have to follow every wish that you desire,” there’s a sarcastic tone to his voice, like the tone he takes towards Kaeya and it somehow bruises you so well.

He starts to look as if he hates you, or was that your imagination? His mouth keeps moving, but none of the words register in your mind. You can’t grasp the fact that Diluc is angry at you. Your usually sweet and subtle Diluc is gone. It suddenly feels like the ground under you is falling apart. You stand up all of a sudden and feel your breath waver.

Diluc cuts his speech off, watching as you anchor yourself to the table with both arms. Your breathing is deep and your hands are trembling. “...Y/N?” You shake your head, unable to answer him because all you can feel is the sense of doom, as if the world was ending. Your peaceful world with Diluc shattered all because of a selfish request you made.

“Y/N,” Diluc stands when he finally realizes somethings wrong, you’re sweating and you’re breathing so heavily, as if you couldn’t catch your breath. He takes you into his arms hoping that it was some form of comfort. “Y/N, deep breaths, you’re fine, love,”

But you go limp in his arms and it takes him a huge amount of self control not to panic himself. He races up the stairs to put you on the bed, opening the windows to give you some air and asking one of the passing by maids to call a doctor.

Sure enough as Diluc describes what happened the doctor confirms that you were probably overwhelmed and panicked, in addition to running a small fever. He feels like trash after that, and almost wants to stab himself for engaging in such petty squabble with you.

When you wake up you hardly remember what happened, until you see Diluc’s concerned face looking at you and you can’t help but wince at the expression you remember on him. You almost can’t bring yourself to look at him and instinctively turn your face away.

That breaks his heart into pieces. “Y/N, I...” he sits at the edge of the bed next to you, carefully placing a hand on your shoulder. “Is it ok if you look at me, love?” He gently requests and you blink, unsure of why you were so deterred by him.

“I don’t mean to look away, it’s just...I don’t want you to hate me,” because that’s the look you remember on his face, like he despised you.

You hear his intake of breath. “Y/N I can never hate you,” he explains. “I...I apologize, I should have dropped the matter and listened to you but I was...I only wanted to have your wishes come true, but I didn’t know how to do that with your request, so I...” he paused a little, and realized that the more he talked the more it sounded stupid. He opts to change his direction. “...I won’t ask for your forgiveness but...please, let me take care of you,”

Diluc had always been sincere with his feelings towards you, and you knew that was hard for him. In some senses you understood where he was coming from, and you also played a part in the little disagreement. You sigh and your eyes easily glide towards him. “...It’s alright ‘Luc, let’s not dwell on it anymore, okay? We can talk about it tomorrow...I’m a little tired right now,”

It seems as if he breathes a sigh of relief at your nickname for him, that brought a little bit of normalcy back into the situation. “Of course,” he agrees and brushes your forehead with his hand. “You’re still running a fever, I’ll wake you up when it’s time to take your medications,”

“You’re not sleeping with me?” You ask and he takes a moment to answer.

“...Not yet, I...I’m not all that tired yet,”

In reality, as you slept peacefully on your shared bed he tenderly looks at you and drowns in his regret, unable to believe that he had pushed you over the edge and thinking over and over again that he doesn’t deserve you in his life, but he will definitely fight to be better and worthy of you.

Zhongli

Rarely gets angry and you rarely have arguments or disagreements with him because he’s always wiling to communicate or see other people’s point of view.

It doesn’t mean that he never gets displeased though, he’s just good at hiding it or concealing it with better sounding words.

Zhongli sometimes likes to make trades with the people of Liyue, mostly for valuable ore, artifacts or keepsakes. When he does this he usually has you to tag along (mostly because he can’t keep track of how much mora he has and relies on you to guide him through that part)

“Ready, darling?” Zhongli asks, his hand placing itself on the small of your back. You’re jolted to attention and you look up at him with a smile.

“Mmhmm, I have our balances and notes ready,” It was like a small hobby of yours and his, collecting treasures and valuable artifacts. It was really mostly his thing, you just loved watching him converse with others and bargain his way through, even though he wasn’t good at it. That’s what you were there for.

Today, however, you’re a little out of it because of a dull pain on the whole front part of your head. It somewhat feels as if you’d been punched in the nose, and the pain was resonating upwards to your forehead. It was a strange feeling, but you pushed through it and thought that it wasn’t a big deal.

Stepping out of your home you instantly realized that this was not going to be a good day. The sun was high in the sky and it was sweltering hot, you were already sweating 5 minutes into walking. Luckily, the man you were trading with opted to meet at a nearby teahouse so you arrived and sat down. The only unfortunate thing was that the seating was outdoors, and so you couldn’t completely escape the heat.

The man greeted the two of you, and invited you to sit. The talks started at once, with Zhongli first relaying a wonderful story about the artifact the man possessed. Frankly you were hardly listening, all you could focus on was how uncomfortable the sweat running down your neck was, for a moment you thought to excuse yourself, but that was strange since you just arrived.

You toughed it out, and tried to keep up with the conversation, opening the notebook on the table as the servers continued to pour tea.

“100,000 mora is not a bad price,” You heard Zhongli state, and that was usually your cue to follow up on your approval or disapproval, but this time, it took you longer than usual to think.

“Ah, um...” You looked at the notes in front of you, you barely wrote anything and the letters were starting to look a little blurred. “A 100,000 mora is fine indeed, but since it’s a little aged and older now, it wouldn’t be impossible to lower the price down to 80,000, right, good sir?” You forced a smile.

Zhongli has a good eye, and observes that you’re rather out of your element today, though he’s unsure what the problem was, so he continues the talk further.

Somewhere down the conversation the two of them look at you, and you blink back at them. There are questioning gazes on their faces and you realize that they had asked you a question.

“Oh...I...apologize, could you repeat that? I must have missed the question,” The man chuckles and talks, but you could only see his mouth moving and there was no sound except the ringing in your ears. The heat was getting to you.

“...Y/N...Y/N,” It was Zhongli’s voice that snaps you out of your stupor, he’s looking at you with concealed worry, but you also see a hint of disappointment there. “...Perhaps it’d be better if you went home first, I’ll put you up to speed on my and the good sir’s conversation later on,” It sounded as if he was trying to get rid of you, but he was merely worried about your lack of concentration today.

“...Yeah, alright,” You agree with a weak smile and bow towards the two of them, gathering your notes and balances when Zhongli stops you. “Leave those, I’ll handle them,” he says it rather curtly, but you nod your head and turn to leave, feeling a little useless.

You took two steps and feel the world spinning around you, bright spots appear in your eyes and it was hard to see anything at all. You force yourself to move forward, not wanting to pass out in the middle of a teahouse, but your fears came true when you trip over your feet and come tumbling down the cobbled pavement of Liyue. It was just so incredibly hot, and your head was killing you with pulses of pain and discomfort.

Zhongli rises to his feet in a hurry, striding towards you and picking you up in his arms easily, careful not to jostle you. Your eyes are shut tight, grimace on your face and it was clear that you were in pain. “Beloved, tell me what’s wrong,” there’s a sense of urgency in his voice, and people around you were staring, though you weren’t aware of it.

You whimper in response, the heat is still beating down on you and the sun’s rays were not helping. “It’s...I can’t breathe properly, it’s...It’s too hot,” you writhe in his hold, just wanting some form of breeze but it was also a windless day today.

Zhongli moves fast, he grabs the notes you left, excuses himself from the good sir and makes it home in a minute. He lays you down on the bed and grabs water and a newspaper from the living room. He lays the glass on the bedside tale and starts fanning you with the folded newspaper, watching your flushed, uncomfortable expression.

He feels disappointed only at himself for not being mindful enough of your condition, sometimes he forgets how fragile humans really are. “Drink some water, please,” he coaxes you, knowing that it would help your overheated system. He’d wanted to get you out of your current clothes as well, and have you change into looser and cooler ones.

“Y/N I’m going to help you out of your clothes and into new ones, would that be alright?” He’s been intimate with you a thousand times, so this was not something he was unfamiliar with. Only this time he was far too worried instead of feeling intimate.

When that was done, you had easily fallen asleep and he had called for a doctor, just to make sure everything was fine. Heat exhaustion was the answer that he got, and he was given a few home remedies and tips as well as medication to help regulate your temperature a little better.

He spent the whole time silently scolding himself at the fact he missed the tell tale signs. You being distracted during the whole trade was already a sign and yet he thought you were just tired. He sighed and closed his eyes as he sat on a chair next to the bed, feeling that he had really failed in taking care of you today.

“’Li?” Your voice snaps his eyes open and causes him to lean forward towards you.

“Is there something you need, darling?” he asks, the rare expression of worry etched on his face. You shake your head, already feeling better now that you were indoors.

“...Sorry we couldn’t go through with the--”

“Y/N, please don’t apologize for that,” his stern voice stops you, but his gaze softens and he takes your hand in his, cradling it as if it was porcelain. “There isn’t anything that’s more important to me than your health, do you understand?” he asks, but doesn’t wait for you to answer. “However small or slight it is, please let me know next time if you feel unwell or uncomfortable. You have to promise me this...”

You can’t help but smile at how serious he sounds, but you completely understood. “Okay, ‘Li, I promise to let you know,”

He sighs, and presses his lips onto your knuckles. “Thank you,”

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jackandspaghetti · 2 months

Text

under the table. (jack hughes x female reader, smut)

summary: THIS IS COMPLETELY FUCKING UNREALISTIC SO PUSH REAL POSSIBILITIES AND CONSEQUENCES OUT OF YOUR HEAD. bro attempts to conceal horny behaviors at a restaurant with Y/N's friends at the table.

warnings: fingering n shi, public lowk exhibitionist level debauchery, some praise

wc: bout 2.5k

Y/N has dragged Jack to dinner with her 3 best friends. He is sitting right up against her on her left. She brought him because these girls have changed her life, and she feels like he might learn some things about her just by understanding her friends. It has been minimally awkward thanks to the fact that her friends never run out of things to joke about, and if one person is distracted or inactive in the conversation, the other three will have absolutely no problem keeping it going at full energy. Not that they wouldn’t notice if something is wrong, of course, but they don’t try to drag people in who don’t seem engaged at the moment.

So, whenever Jack has had quiet personal exchanges with Y/N during this dinner, it has been no problem for the flow of conversation, and her friends have just ignored it. Easily, because the couple is kind of tucked into the dark corner of the booth while two others sit on the other side, and one decided to pull up a chair at the open part. Maybe they silently agreed that they should give them some space. They know Y/N well, after all.

Her friends have talked to Jack a little bit, but Y/N mostly just brought him as a spectator this time since the girls have an unstoppable wavelength. He knew this going in, of course, but he also knows that he is allowed to take as much of Y/N's attention as he desires at any point. Fortunately, he is a considerate guy and hasn’t kept her away from them.

However, Y/N has a limited social battery which at this point is starting to run low. They know this, and they know not to try to push her too hard when she gets quiet. They have been friends with her since high school, and they know she is happier just to listen than to drain herself, so they don’t call her out and keep acting normal. Or, at least as normal as they get. Y/N and Jack are done with their food, and the other girls have a few bites left on their plates, but their antics are still going strong. Two of them are currently debating whether they should prank the waiter.

Y/N is chuckling quietly as she observes her dear friends who rarely get a chance to unite these days, with all of them having split up for college. Jack, on the other hand, is no longer engaged in the conversation, and as his right arm rests around Y/N's shoulders, his fingers gently start to stroke her upper arm. Grazing softly up to her shoulder, down her bicep. She feels such a sense of contentment and warmth in this moment, sitting here and watching her friends laugh together while she leans against her man who is subtly expressing his love.

However, Jack’s ideas are starting to wander a bit into different territory. It has been a long dinner. He notices Y/N seems a little tired, so he leans close and whispers in her ear, “You know, I’m starting to get a little antsy. Wanna leave and do something…else…?”

She blushes a little bit when she realizes what he’s thinking, but despite her being tired, she doesn’t want to leave these girls. She likes just being here, in their presence and simply listening, even when she is too tired to participate. It has been a long time since they have all been together and she doesn’t want to cut it short just yet. She sighs, “I don’t wanna leave them yet. I like listening.”

He nods, “I get it baby. You keep enjoying them. I’m just gonna be over here enjoying you if that’s okay.” His right arm stays across her shoulders, but his left hand starts brushing against her left thigh under the table. His foot nudges hers a bit as well.

Y/N makes a very small noise when she feels his attention shifting to under the table. This could be dangerous, because she’s wearing a skirt, and she can tell he’s getting ideas. She casually takes a sip of her water to try to calm herself down, but she doesn’t push Jack away. She would be lying if she said she didn’t want him a bit right now, but it’s hard to choose between him and her best friends. They are mercifully ignoring the couple, but nonetheless, Y/N tries to keep her expressions under check as she feels her arousal build.

Jack smirks when he notices her body language giving him permission to pursue his devious thoughts. His hand keeps grazing her thigh, and he leans in and speaks in a soft and intimate voice, “I’m sorry baby, it’s just that I’m kinda hot for you right now.” Then he kisses her neck quickly before pulling his face away.

She stiffens at the kiss, and mumbles under her breath, “Hey. Nothing they can see.”

He processes this for a second, a secretive smile slowly building as he realizes her implication. He muses, “Hmm…okay. No one can see. So, you mean…” and his thoughts focus on what he could do under the table.

Y/N keeps looking ahead casually, but she gets an idea and spontaneously speaks up to the whole group, startling Jack a bit, “Hey anyone want dessert?”

Her friends look at her and pretend they don’t see her cuddled up to Jack (she waited so long to have any sort of romantic interaction with guys in her life; she deserves for no one to get in her way now), and they nod in agreement. They are up for dessert.

They politely get the attention of the waiter and order some desserts. Y/N gets a lava cake. That’s not particularly important, but it’s good stuff.

Once the waiter is gone, Jack pulls Y/N a little closer and the girls go back to their spirited conversation, infinitely expanding on some joke that probably started 5 minutes ago. Jack whispers in her ear, “Mmm you never clarified the conditions of ‘nothing they can see,’ babe.”

She replies with a bit of a bite in her voice. He’s got her all ready for some unspeakable deeds right now and she is not having the whole uncertainty act, “You can do whatever the hell you want under the table. Pretty self-explanatory.”

He chuckles softly, “Don’t test the waters if you’re not ready to swim in the deep end, Y/N.”

She mumbles under her breath, “I am the deep end.”

Jack smiles and slides his hand up her inner thigh a bit more. He’s just at the edge of her skirt now, “Oh yeah? I know you’ve got the potential to be the whole damn pool. You there yet baby?”

Y/N grits her teeth, “Feel.”

He complies, sliding his hand up the remaining distance and letting it brush against her panties. He doesn’t even need them out of the way to feel how wet he’s gotten her with all this flirting.

A soft, shaky breath escapes her lips, “Feel that? There’s your damn pool.”

Jack has to bite his lip to keep from grinning, “Mmmhmm. Can’t wait to get deep in that water.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, but a little sound in her throat betrays her before she whispers, “Jesus Christ.” She quickly reaches down and pushes her panties to the side, leaving her bare under the table.

Luckily, at this moment, the desserts come out. She gets her lava cake and glances around to make sure none of her friends have any attention directed under the table, then she takes the first bite. This was a fantastic plan on her part, because everyone knows she is dramatic with yummy food. A lot of “Mmmmm”s that are just about indistinguishable from moans. She’s not the best at staying silent, so this way, any noise that slips is warranted.

Just as she starts to dig in, Jack slips a finger in her wetness. She reels slightly and nearly chokes on her food, but she keeps it together as much as humanly possible. He looks awfully proud of himself. Y/N glances at her friends again, making sure they are deep in conversation and his finger slowly pulls out, dragging some fluid up over her clit and the surrounding area. Her eyes flutter, and then he casually starts massaging it. He’s kind of all over her right now, but his arm is impressively still as his fingers start to work, so as long as no one pays too much attention, it looks just like some couple who is obsessed with each other all cuddled up in the booth.

Y/N's eyes widen and then close when he finally starts giving her some very direct pleasure. She sighs and rests her face in her hand. Honestly, this is also a completely plausible food reaction from her. Thank god she is so dramatic.

Jack can’t help but bite his lip and smile slightly. His hand is moving back and forth rhythmically, slowly and softly, occasionally dipping a finger in the source to drag some more wetness over her folds. And every time she responds to him, he does it with a little more confidence. Applies a little more pressure. He rests his head on her shoulder, acting like he’s tired and that’s why he’s all over her. When he decides she’s ready, his fingers start moving in those little circles.

Y/N lets out a shaky exhale at these new developments, making it look like she’s zoned out so that her friends don’t try to acknowledge her. She is slowly picking at her dessert, because this is her only safety net for this whole experience. If the lava cake is finished before she is, there will be a lot of explaining to do for any moans that escape after the fact.

But damn, he knows her too well. Those fingers are not new to this domain. He's still going slowly, but it’s all in the right places and just enough pressure to send intense heat throughout her body. Y/N risks a glance down at her lap and regrets it. Through an incredible feat of willpower, she is able to keep herself from reacting visually or audibly, but the sight of his perfect fingers all wet from her pussy, rubbing her under the table…just, damn.

Though his head is on her shoulder, looking lazy, he is hyper-focused on her every reaction. The way her thighs are parted, the way she grips the fork a little too tightly, the way she looks around the table to make sure no one is paying attention. He smiles to himself and picks up the pace now.

Her face flushes uncontrollably and she feels her hips twitch, almost grinding herself against his hand just once. She chugs some water and then takes a sizeable bite of her dessert, letting herself release a nice “Mmmmmm” as the feeling builds and as his fingers just keep going tirelessly.

Of course, Jack seems to be in a bit of a cruel mood. He certainly notices the signs that her pleasure is snowballing, and he takes this as the perfect opportunity to slow down significantly to tease her.

She almost groans. She has to grit her teeth to keep herself from jumping him right here. Y/N's free hand grips the edge of her seat with white knuckles.

He chuckles almost silently and puts some extra pressure on her clit. He’s still rubbing her at a painfully slow pace, but he’s pressing into it hard.

Y/N lets out an audible moan this time and immediately digs into the lava cake to mask it. She whispers with urgency, “Jack, faster. Like right now speed up I’m close.”

Apparently, he has mercy on her, because he speeds up to his previous pace and keeps the pressure high. He knows that she is about to finish. He’s excited to see how she handles that in a setting like this.

She puts her fork down and puts her head in her hand for a second to hide her face, and she essentially has to hold her breath to keep from moaning loudly when her orgasm hits. She lets out a heavy exhale and keeps gripping the booth hard as she endures those continuous waves of intense pleasure, the thrill of the setting making it feel even better, maybe.

Jack feels the telltale spasms of her pussy when it happens, and he gives her a super quick peck on the neck before whispering, “Good girl.” His hand slows down, matching her slowing contractions. The little circles are soft and gentle now, making sure she’s well taken care of before he stops completely. Then he raises his head up a bit and whispers in her ear, “So good baby. You did so good for me.”

Y/N lifts her head, but she has to close her eyes for a second when he says that, pushing down the reaction she would normally have. She gently pushes his hand away and slides her underwear back into place, whispering a response, “I’m gonna finish this dessert and then tell them I don’t feel good, and we can get out of here. Safe to say I haven’t been listening to them for a while.”

Jack nods and seems impressed with himself that he pulled that off. Y/N is having a hard time believing they really just went completely unnoticed, especially since she would typically be at least a little more active in conversation, no matter how drained her social battery may be. She thinks they probably knew something was going on and they weren’t about to take that away from her. They are absolutely not the type to do the same thing, but they know Y/N is crazy as fuck when it comes to guys she wants. She finishes her dessert and chuckles to herself. She’s going to have to pay them back for that feigned ignorance.

Y/N does indeed tell them she and Jack are going to take off for the night, but she doesn’t end up blaming it on feeling bad. They can handle a couple wanting to be alone together.

Once they are in the car, Jack looks at her, “You didn’t give them an excuse.”

She chuckles, “They didn’t need it. Be realistic; they knew you were touching up on me at least to some degree. Those girls won’t want to deprive me of fun times.”

Jack furrows his brows and nods slowly, then they drive home pretty quietly. Unfortunately for him, he was the one who was horny in the first place and his dick is still unattended. He places his hand on Y/N's thigh. It isn’t unusual, but Y/N feels some undertones in it. She smirks as she looks out the window. She’s a young woman who happens to have a serious appetite for sex; she can handle whatever he may need when they get some privacy.

[i was gonna do a whole part after they got home, but i wrote basically all of this like 2 months ago and honestly im not locked into this scenario anymore. aint nobody got the energy]

#jack hughes #nj devils #new jersey devils #jack hughes smut #nhl smut #hockey fic #jack hughes fic #jack hughes one shot #hockey smut #smut

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glassbxttless · 1 year

Text

L&D Baby

Nurse!Steve Harrington x f!Reader

Summary: Steve and his wife are having their first baby— and it happens to be at the hospital he works at.

Word Count: 2.3k+

Warnings: 18+ (editing to add: no sexual themes, but I am literally an adult and do not want minors interacting with my content whatsoever), marriage, pregnancy, childbirth, mentions of a stillbirth, dad!steve, labor and delivery nurse!steve, blood/blood loss, swearing— as always let me know if there’s any tags i missed!

Notes: This is posted over on my ST blog ( @hellfirestxnes ). Once all of my content is moved over here— that blog will be inactive as my main objective is to have one space for myself!

Steve is tired. His bones are aching and his eyes are sore, but it’s just another Friday really. He has about half of his shift left and he’s off again, thankfully, until Monday. Leaning on the counter at the nurses station, listening to the other nurses gossip and share stories about their kids. And he’s thinking about you at home, sitting pretty and waiting for him to come home— belly swollen with his child. Any other day, he might tuck himself away and use the phone to call and check in, but today… he couldn’t face it. The first delivery he was on that morning, he watched a new mother wish with every fiber of her being that what the doctor was telling her wasn’t true. He cleaned up that baby, took their weight and height, made out the card for the parents that would never get to hear a cry. He bundled up gray, cold skin and hoped that the couple would be able to find peace. Somewhere deep down, he wishes he wouldn’t have heard them ask how did this happen? Everything was just fine this morning. But, now here he sits. Thinking about that delivery, thinking about his wife at home. His very pregnant wife. Your pregnancy has gone by so quickly, been such a breeze. He’s been to as many appointments as he could, especially the ones you were so worried about. But there’s always a reassuring answer of your baby being strong and healthy. A perfect little Harrington. And now, Steve’s never found himself more terrified. If everything can be fine and perfect one second and terribly tragic the next, he doesn’t know where to find his peace. He hangs his head against his hands for a few moments— taking a deep breath. He’s gotta get himself straight, take a few moments. But there’s hellos being exchanged a few feet away and after what seems like a millisecond, a hand is settling on his lower back. He snaps around, prepared to give the whole I’m married spiel he’s done a thousand times, he’s met with the beautiful eyes of his adoring wife. And that softens his features, he’s visibly relaxing.

You smile at him, as he tugs you into his grip. The hug lasts longer than usual and Steve loves hugging you. You rub his back and kiss his shoulder, “you forgot your lunch.” You whisper to him quietly, the bag in your left hand adorning a beautiful band that Steve had so carefully picked out himself. At your words, Steve’s grip just tightens a bit and he kisses your head, sighing out. “Do you wanna eat together?”

“Yeah, angel. Just about to take my break. come on.” he says quietly, leading you down to the cafeteria. He pulls out your chair and you can tell something is distracting him as he sits. He’s busying himself by passing out the food, but he’s quiet and normally— he isn’t. He asks about your day, tells you about his, has told you he loves you a dozen times by now. And he knows you’ve noticed, by the way his eyes flick up to yours and back down again. “I’m okay.” he says after catching the look on your face.

“You’re not.” you reply, matter-of-factly. “What’s going on, Steve? Can talk to me.” you reach over for his hand, thumb brushing over his own gold wedding band. “You’re not acting like yourself.”

Steve sighs heavily, flipping his hand over to take yours gently. “The first birth I was on this morning was a stillbirth and I dunno… just had me thinking a lot.” He explains, his eyes dropping down to your belly across the table. You nod slightly, the hand that wasn’t entwined in his moves to your belly. You’re almost due and neither you nor Steve have ever had to worry about this. Never had it been a thought in your head.

“Just want you guys safe, is all.” Steve says softly and gives your hand a squeeze before he’s pulling it away to eat his lunch with you. And when it’s time for him to get back to work, you stand. There’s a dull ache that starts in your back and wraps around to your tummy, it lasts about 30 seconds as you clean up from lunch. You ignore it as he hugs you tightly, pressing a kiss against your forehead. “I’ll see you at home, okay? Take it easy, rest.” He reminds you, rubbing up and down your arms.

“Yeah, okay.” You acknowledge him with a nod, before you feel another aching pain. But this time it’s accompanied by a slow trickle of fluid down your thighs. And when Steve notices where your eyes are falling, all of the hair on the back of his neck stands up.

“Oh.” Is all he can manage. He’s done this a thousand and ten times over the past few years. He’s consoled laboring mothers, he’s held their hands and cleaned them up, he’s been their support system. It’s his job. But here he is, with his own wife, frozen in his tracks. Your water broke and he can tell with the uncomfortable face you’re making the contractions have started as well. “Okay, angel… let’s… let’s get you checked in.” he says softly and suddenly, you’re more than thankful for the pre-registry packet Steve made you fill out last week. He holds your hand the entire time they check you in and get you into a room. He can hear his pager going off and he’d check it, every now and again, hoping one of the other nurses could pick up his patients, since he still technically was on his shift. But when he can’t put it off any longer, he kisses your head. “Listen, I’ll be right back okay? I’m not leaving you alone for this. I’ll be really quick.” he says softly.

You just nod, munching on the ice chips he had brought you not too long ago. You still feel like you have time. The contractions aren’t that close together yet. But Steve would throw a fit if they even tried to send you home and you know it. Steve smiles nervously when he wheels a cart into another expectant parent’s room. He introduces himself and shakes her husband’s hand when he extends it to him introducing themselves as, “Caleb and Connie Bear.” He's trying to keep the small talk up and keep himself calm— and not to think of his wife four rooms down. “Is this your first?” he asks softly, administering her medication.

“Oh no.” Connie laughs softly and shakes her head, “It’s baby number seven.” She pats her belly gently. Steve nods, a little lost in his own head. A mix of thoughts of the young couple a floor up with no baby to show, his wife laboring without him, and these friendly people working on their seventh baby. “It’s not as bad as you think.” she laughs, catching Steve’s face.

Steve laughs nervously and shakes his head, “oh no. it’s not that.” He smiles softly, “my wife and I wanted around six.” He shrugs, giving her a glass of water.

“You’ve got kids?” She smiles at him and gives his forearm a gentle squeeze as he adjusts her monitors. “You’re so young.”

“Uh… not yet.” He laughs softly and pulls her blanket back up over her. “My wife’s in labor now, actually. Not very far along yet and It’s our first, might have a while to go.” He rambled off nervously.

She smiles at him, a warm and comforting smile, and so does her husband. They remember those days. And Steve does find comfort in that smile. “These things take time.” She says softly, nodding at Steve. “but she’ll know what to do and I know you’ve seen a lot of babies being born but the minute you see yours, everything’s gonna change.” And Steve knows she’s right.

“Thank you.” he says softly. “I’ll be back in to check on you in a little while.” he dims her lights a bit, sighing softly as he steps out of the room and walks over to his station to chart his notes quickly. When he looks up and sees his mother-in-law, that’s when his panic starts to set in. He’s hurrying around the counter, biting the inside of his cheek. “What are you doing here?”

“Y/N called asking me to come, Steve.” She laughs, a sound that reminds him of you. “She knows you’re busy.” She gives his arm a pat and smiles at him. “She’s getting close, from what they’ve told her.”

“And she didn’t say anything to me?” Steve frowns, leading her over to your room. His face is knotted up in confusion when he looks over you. Your feet are planted on the floor, leaning over your bed. He sighs softly, knowing he should have been in here. He walks over, standing behind you to rub circles into your lower back.

“This is how we got into this situation.” You joke, face pressed against your sheets.

The response makes Steve chuckle, rolling his eyes, “oh hush. your mother is here.” He mumbles softly, rubbing your hips gently. “Where did they say you’re at, angel?” he asks softly.

“Eight.” You mumble back, letting yourself melt into Steve’s hands. They slide around to your belly, lifting gently and trying to keep the pressure off of your back in between contractions. “What do you think it’s gonna be?” You ask him, turning your head to catch a glimpse of him. You can see the worry etched into his features. But once he sees the way your hair is sticking to your forehead and how flushed and clammy your skin is— he softens.

“A girl.” He says softly. “Gonna be just as pretty as you.” He whispers softly, helping you switch positions and lie back on the bed quietly. Steve’s head perks up as he sees one of his co-workers take a quick peek in. “What’s up?” he mouths over to her. He watches her point down to her belt, signaling to the pager Steve has forgotten.

He sighs and kisses your head once more, rubbing soothing circles onto your arm. “I’ll be right back again, okay sweetheart? Your mama’s here. gonna take care of you while I’m gone.” He says softly and squeezes your hand before he’s ducking out and heading down to the Bear’s room, pushing the cot along quietly.

Connie smiles tiredly, having opted for an epidural at the last stage of her labor. Steve’s ready at her thighs, ready to pop the baby up onto her chest. His own head is occupied with the thought of missing the birth of his own child while he welcomes another into the world. His shift would be over soon and then he’ll be sitting at your bedside, holding your hand and keeping you healthy and happy. Supporting you throughout the entire transition of your labor. Caleb rubs soothing circles on Connie’s arm as she pushes, and Steve takes note of the love in the room. How much the two of them lean on one another.

And Steve’s breath hitches in his throat when he’s reaching over her thighs, with their newborn boy laying on her stomach. He’s helping rub the baby dry, eyes flicking up to the delivering doctor when no one hears any cries for just a few more moments. And Steve whispers, panicked, but full of hope, “oh come on, kid.” No one hears him, but Connie— and her eyes are on him as Steve tries his fucking best to coax a cry out of the baby. Even after suctioning his nose and mouth. He remembers the heartbroken looks on that young couple this morning and he couldn’t take it again.

And finally there’s a sigh of relief when the little one lets out their first big wail. Steve smiles watching as Connie holds their baby to her chest, tears welling up in her eyes. She gives Steve’s hand a squeeze, her face silently thanking him. And then as he’s walking away to fill out a stats card for their baby, Steve hears his name followed by someone shouting time to push. And he’s running. He’ll check back in later, but he’s not missing his baby’s birth. You’ve got the rails of the bed in your hands, gripping tightly as you push— and he’s finding your side and brushing back your hair. “I'm here, angel.” He’s whispering through your tears. “I’m here. Look at you. You’re doing so good, mama.”

And it’s a whole new feeling when Steve hears a cry before he even sees the baby. He can see the blood on your thighs as they lift the baby up to place against your chest. The tears in your eyes are falling as you look up at Steve. And he just presses a kiss against your forehead, sniffling back his own years. “You did it, angel.” he mumbles softly.

“Congratulations.” You hear through your OB’s big smile. “It’s a boy.” And then Steve laughs, his smile pressed against your hair.

“It's a boy.” you repeat, fingers brushing against the back of your baby's fresh soft skin. The quiet grunts coming from him fill the room as he roots around trying to latch onto your breast quietly. “Joseph.” You whisper and turn to look up at Steve, remembering the perfect name the two of you had spent the last eight months curating. “Joseph Steven Harrington.” You announce to your mother quietly. And Steve feels himself tear up a bit.

Nothing has ever felt like this before in his life. And once you’re squared away, he makes sure to thank his coworkers quietly. Appreciating every second of them covering his ass tonight. They all congratulate him for the beautiful baby, passing out hugs and offering advice. And Steve soaks it in, every single word of it. Soaks it in like his life depends on it.

tags ;; @peachyproserpina @eeopxlt

#steve harrington x f!reader #steve harrington #steve x pregnant!reader #dad!steve harrington #nurse!steve #cw: pregnancy #cw: birth #cw: stillbirth mention

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raytorosaurus · 2 years

Text

Sorry that this post is long but I would appreciate it if other white people read it and thought about it. I've been reading a lot of posts and the tags on them and I just want to make it very clear that this conversation isn't really about Ray getting 'attention' or his talent getting acknowledged. We should not be minimising this to “we need to acknowledge that Ray is an excellent guitar player” because everyone knows that, all you need is ears. True, it went largely unappreciated by fans at the height of mcr’s fame, but at least that's different now. What we're talking about now is about so much more than that - in fact, part of the problem is Ray getting reduced to nothing but the guy who shuts up and does the solos. We're talking about a pattern of behaviour that has been so deeply rooted in this fandom for so long that it's almost invisible to white people. It's a collective problem but it's perpetuated by individuals and needs to be addressed at an individual level first before it can begin to change.

I will acknowledge that, at least in my circles, things have started to change a little bit this tour in regards to people noticing him and discussing him beyond just his solos. But on the flipside that's only highlighted the larger issue, which boils down to how differently Ray is treated from the rest of the band. This is a consistent pattern. If he's not being ignored, he's behind separated out and set apart from the others - either being put on a weird pedestal or given suspiciously backhanded compliments.

Back in 2020 when I'd be lucky to see three posts about him a day on my dash I used to spend a lot of time scrolling through old inactive blogs to queue Ray pictures. Back in the pre-breakup days, if he wasn't being called "princess fro fro" he was being called ugly or he was the target of straight-up racial slurs. There was a weird narrative that he like, lowkey bullied Frank or took more credit than he deserved for mcr's guitar parts (which is painfully ridiculous and only proves that nobody paid attention to a single word Ray's ever said). Until very recently, the punchline of one of the main "jokes" (quotation marks because the word joke implies it was ever actually funny in the first place lol) in this fandom relied on Ray being at least casually homophobic. And these were blogs that posted Ray - I can only imagine how much worse the people who actively didn't like him would have been.

Nowadays, I post a lot of Ray content so I see a lot of tags from people outside my circle of mutuals. Let me tell you, there are Patterns. First of all, there's the classic "tags that completely ignore Ray to make the Ray post about Frank and/or Gerard instead." But more and more often what I'm seeing is if he's not being infantilised, he's being treated as some hyper-masculine, omni-competent, suave sex god or something - each of these things are equally reductive and dehumanising - and each of them are different manifestations of racist stereotypes and common fandom attitudes towards people of colour. Sure, Frank also gets weirdly infantilised a lot, but in a very different way - Frank is woobified in the way people often treat their fictional faves out of affection and horniness, whereas Ray is just reduced down to a personalityless nice guy - something that is also very common with fictional characters of colour. Then there are people who act like he's some kind of long-suffering untouchable genius who puts up with the little weirdos in his band because they worship his talent or something, as if he's not on equal footing with them as their peer and creative partner. And then you get the people characterising him as some kind of rough macho domineering dude because he's…tall? I guess? And plays guitar with confidence? Or is it just because he's brown.

I just..genuinely want you to sit down and think about a reason Ray might be singled out and separated from the rest of the band like this.

Is it because he's quiet in interviews? Mikey was always quieter. Also, Ray has done a lot more interviews than you think, they just haven't been circulated by fans as much. Also, he's literally the second-most featured band member in lotms - you know, the almost sole source for their fandom-driven personalities back in the day.

Is it because he's less feminine than the others? Both Mikey and Frank regularly present as more traditionally masculine in their fashion choices and mannerisms etc. The only thing “more masculine” about Ray than the others is...his body type I guess. There’s a whole conversation there about the intersection of gender and race and racist perceptions thereof.

Is it because he's private and keeps out of the public eye? So does Gerard.

Is it because people historically found him less attractive than the others? I shouldn't have to explain that that was the racism all along (yes, I know there's no accounting for taste, but Ray was regularly and actively mocked for his non-white features, and noughties beauty standards, especially in the alt music scene, were overwhelmingly white and racist. I regularly get tags to the effect of "when did Ray get so hot???" and honestly it's pretty telling that he's only widely acknowledged as attractive now that he's lost weight (whole other important discussion on fatphobia in this fandom here btw) and his hair has changed texture and beauty standards have shifted so certain racial features are fetishised rather than mocked.

Is it because he wasn't involved in one of the iconic bandom boylove duos? News flash, all "ships" are made up fan theories. Rpf and/or tinhatting is based on what fans notice and what rumours they perpetuate. Besides them kissing on stage a few times to make a point over 15 years ago, you know frerard lore because people talk about frerard lore. You know petekey lore because people talk about petekey lore. The truth is nobody cared enough to pay attention to Ray back then. (To be clear, this isn't me trying to tinhat anything about him, I'm just once again pointing out the obvious disparity in how Ray is treated compared to the others.)

I consistently see people acting baffled at how he's been behaving this tour - skipping or bouncing around the stage, eating his solos up, being physically affectionate with his bandmates. I can tell you he has literally always acted like that. Sure, this tour is special - he's certainly a lot more confident than he used to be and seems happier than ever, but really the biggest thing that's changed is now we get full footage of every show so it's literally impossible to overlook.

I also see people acting baffled when others point out the way Ray's been mistreated by fandom - being shocked that anyone would crop Ray out of band photos etc. I guarantee you that almost every single one of you has reblogged pictures where he's been actively cropped out, because some of the most iconic Frank-and-Gerard pictures that constantly get passed around on here are just that. "But how would we know" - sure, it's not your fault, but it's a small example of the way the more blatant Ray erasure from the past gets passed down to new fans and perpetuated by them unknowingly in turn. Cropping him out of pictures is just the tip of the iceberg in terms of how his talent and personality and significance to the emotional heart of the band has been overlooked. I can't tell you how many iconic well-known quotes from interviews or paragraphs from Not the Life it Seems directly precede facts about/quotes from Ray that nobody seems to have heard.

So again, this is not really a popularity thing - it's hard to measure but I'd say in the past few months Ray's overtaken Mikey in terms of mass popularity, at least on tumblr. You don't need to performatively post once a day about how Ray Toro Is God or how much you want him to rail you or how much you want him to rail your white fave because "he's the only one who can top" (you Realise how this sounds right?). I'm just asking you to confront your internalised biases and the external biases ingrained in the culture and history of this fandom, and start treating Ray the same way you treat the rest of the guys. He's not an untouchable god and he's not a sunshine cupcake, he's just Some Guy who's really fucking good at guitar. He's a proud stay at home dad, he's cringe as fuck, he loves to cook, he listens to podcasts about fucking Apple products for fun, he writes (very) shitty poetry, he takes his sons to women's rights marches, he invests in bitcoin, he cries when his mom sends him postcards, he drives a douchey car, he loves children's cartoons, he's a corny liberal just like the others, he loves his friends wholly and openly. Just…please acknowledge the history of racism in this fandom, think about how you as an individual might knowingly or unknowingly perpetuate it, and try to do better. And please just treat him like a human.

#at least we're HAVING this conversation it's so so much worse on twitter #anyway. i've discussed and complained about a lot of this stuff on discord and that's my bad for not talking about it more publicly #like. i don't want to come off as just bitter about my fave or something because it's a much deeper problem that #but that just means i need to be very clear abt my point #hopefully you give this post the time of day i know it's long but i do think it's important #ray toro #racism #ref #**#gonna pin this for a bit too

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be-lovas · 8 months

Text

Serendipity- part 2

How can I apologize for these months of inactivity??? omg guys i'm SO sorry....... I spent the whole summer working on my master thesis so I got carried away from this but I am back now!!! I've tried to tag everyone who asked me to do so, tell me if something's wrong with the tags <;33

Warnings: some men being dicks (but what's new), loose proofreading (I really suck at this I'm sorry), reader's bit sad, helaena being a sweetie

(Flashbacks are in italics) previous part - next part

"Tell me it is a farce, Aemond. I beg of you."

Alicent is on the verge of tears: she thinks of Rhaenyra and how she must be feeling. The loss of a child. She also feels sad for the boy himself, because although he was a bastard, he was merely a child. A feeling of regrets washes over her as she recalls that night in Driftmark, when she wanted to claim his eye for Aemond's lost one.

Aemond does not say a word. He does not feel the courage to do so. He never killed someone before. He has always thought that killing someone wouldn't do anything to him. Yet, to take someone's life,despite the someone being the boy who took his eye, procures him no satisfaction and no sense of justice. All he can think of is his nephew's body hurtling into the sea foam.

Aemond solely waits for everyone's anger, but not everybody seems angry. His mother definitely is, but his Grandfather and Aegon do not seem furious. Otto Hightower seems worried, because he has known Daemon for a long time, and he knows having him against you is not a luxury. Aegon is simply trying to supress a smile at the corner of his lips.

"Well done, brother," he comments.

"We need to secure Aegon's position," Otto eventually says, ignoring Aegon's comment.

Alicent lets out a histerical laugh, unable to control her nerves. "I believe Aemond just did that by killing one of Rhaenyra's heirs, Father."

"By marrying Aemond and Daeron off to great houses from the Realm."

"I chose Floris Baratheon," Aemond intervenes. "I intend to perform my duty."

He does not want to marry her, but he always promised himself to do his duty regarding his family. He has always seen Aegon minimizing his and wandering around the Silk Streets as he has always had the heavy duty of potentially becoming King someday. Aemond hates the fact that his brother tarnishes this honor, and he does not intend to do the same.

"We must find someone else," explains Otto.

"Perhaps the Dornish Princess? They might send troops in exchange," Alicent offers.

"They would rather die than openly take part in this war," Ser Criston comments, stepping up into the conversation for the first time since they entered the Great Hall.

"The Lannisters do not have any female child. Same goes for House Tyrell."

"What of the North?" Aegon suggests, and everyone goes quiet.

The North is ostracised. Its people may be a part of the Realm, but they do not identify as the rest of the Country. Otto Hightower has always seen them as a group of savages that attempt to appear civilized while hiding their gods in forests. However, Otto Hightower has always granted them their blinded loyalty towards each other and their considerable army.

"Rickon Stark swore loyalty to Rhaenyra," Alicent hastens to say. "He would never break his oath."

Her voice is unequivocal. She does not appear to acknowledge what she just suggested, but Otto does and gives Ser Criston a sidelong look.

"Rickon Stark is dead, My Queen."

You slowly emerge from sleep and keep your eyes closed, afraid not to recognise the ceiling of your chambers in Winterfell and to have the confirmation that you are indeed into your personal purgatory. You're feeling uncomfortable, and you remember that you're still wearing your wedding gown from yesterday. Worse, you realise you are alive. You thought that you would be dead by sunrise, but your husband finds it was not an express necessity to get you executed for mocking him.

A soft knock on your door startles you, and as if you were scared to be caught doing something wrong, you quickly get off your bed. You allow them entering and when the door opens, you are relieved to see that it is just a young servant.

"Good morning, my Lady. Queen Helaena and the Dowager Queen would like you to join them for tea," she indicates.

You rub your hands on your gown, looking at your dress before glancing back at her. None of you says anything, but you are positive that she has definitely understood your husband and you did not fulfill your marital duties last night.

"I will fetch a maid to help you get dressed, my Lady," she bows and leaves without expecting a reply, and you feel sick at the hearing of the way she adresses you.

As your feet obediently follow the maid who came to wake you up this morning through the dungeon's hallways, you gradually realise where you have been taken: in some of the books of the Winterfell library, the fortress is described as being so high that not even the three original dragons could penetrate the walls. The stone that built the tower was more refined than the stone of Winterfell's walls: in the North, everything is more raw. Here, everything seems shaped and moulded.

Your feet mechanically come to a full stop when your eyes spot something very familiar: an heart tree. You think of the leaf your brother gave you before leaving Kings Landing, claiming that the gods will travel South in order to protect you. For the first time since you got here, you somehow still feel close to home.

Just as you were expecting to have tea in the Dowager Queen's chamber (which you know too little about), Anna, Queen Alicent's servant, takes you to the court garden, which you did not know existed until now. When you arrived, you thought you would have to live within four walls and never see vegetation as far as the eye can see again. To your great surprise, you find the garden delightful and it is, in your eyes, a breath of fresh air in this fortress that seems far too anxiety-provoking.

When you see the Queen and her mother sitting at the table among the flowers, you force yourself to smile and slowly approach, a servant pulling the chair out for you to sit on. Before doing so, you make a brief curtsy to greet them.

"Good morrow, goodsister," Helaena is the first to greet you.

If you have prejudices about all of Aemond's family and Aemond himself, you have none about his sister. On the contrary, she seems very kind and gentle. It doesn't surprise you that you've heard that she is very popular with the people of Kings Landing.

"Your graces," you reply, verbally greeting Alicent simulteanously.

On her lap sits a small boy with silver hair. The child is eating a sweet without caring about what is going on around him.

"Did you sleep well?" Alicent asks, and you see her eyes drift to her maid for half a second.

Anna must surely have told her that she found you in the same dress as yesterday when she came into your room this morning. If she hasn't already, she's probably giving her a little nod, letting Alicent know that things didn't go as planned.

"Uh, I—"

"I was told you bled last night. Do not worry, it is completely normal. It means the wedding has been accepted and granted by the gods," she smiles, cutting you off. "You were saying?"

Words struggle to come out of your mouth. No one has checked your sheets because the only people who have been in your room have guessed that you were not deflowered by your husband last night. Or maybe it's just a set-up by the Queen Mother so that people around can witness her words, and thus seal this marriage. Whatever it is, you don't stand in her way.

"I slept well, thank you," you evasively reply while nodding your head.

"I have not yet seen Aemond. He usually stops by to greet the children before starting the day. Do you happen to know where he has gone?" Helaena asks you, wiping off some crumbs from the boy's mouth. "Maelor has been asking for his uncle since he woke up."

In all honesty, you do not care about Aemond's whereabouts. You'd rather not have to see him. Given the short but heated exchange the two of you had last night, you feel it would be better for both of you if you two come across each other as little as possible, it will make this marriage easier to bear.

"He has not spoken to me about it. I—"

Maelor's voice prevents you from finishing your sentence. The little boy flaps around on his grandmother's lap while babbling words you don't understand.

"Aemond!" Helaena stands up quickly, almost running towards her brother. "Where have you been?"

If Helaena looks excited to see her brother, the Queen Mother's features cannot say the same thing. Sitting across from you, you see the Queen's features harden, which tingles and causes you to turn around to see what could the cause of such a change in Alicent's humour.

Opposite you is Aemond accompanied by a woman. Not a young woman like you. A mature woman.

You analyse her without shame: slender, with hair as black as berries and an unmatched beauty. She is incredibly beautiful. You feel her gaze on you with an air of competitiveness, as if she is trying to challenge you.

Then it strikes you, and you find yourself wanting to laugh, feeling foolish for not understanding Aemond's words last night.

My heart will never be yours.

It can never be yours because it belongs to someone else.

Somehow, you find the empathy to feel bad for him. You did not want this union because your heart did not choose it and it was forced on you. Aemond did not want this union, or the union originally planned with one of Borros Baratheon's 4 daughters, because his heart belongs to her and as strong as his words were towards you yesterday, you feel some semblance of sorrow for him.

"Mother," Aemond greeted his mother with a nod. Then, just like a child afraid to be grounded, he glances at you. "Wife."

It still sounds off to hear this word. It still seems odd to consider yourself married, you do not really feel married. But that is only because all your life, you've pictured marriage in a very different way.

"Husband," you mutter as you swivel around on your chair to get back into your original position.

Facing you, Alicent's features harden even more as she keeps her eyes on her son, who sits silently at the table. The mysterious lover imitates him, searching for the Queen Mother with her eyes.

"Would you have the decency to tell me who this woman is?" Alicent's tone is cold and firm, and she doesn't bother to address the main interested party.

Alicent Hightower is known as far north as Westeros for her dexterity in matters of good behaviour. She didn't experience love during her marriage, but she always put on a good show. Inviting a lover to the royal table does not seem to be a decision she considers wise.

"This is Lady Alys Rivers," Aemond introduces, Alys reacts with a gentle smile. He's now playing with Maelor on his lap, the boy running to his uncle as soon as he saw him.

You level up your eyebrows at the mention of her name. Rivers. A bastard of House Strong. You exchange glance with Helaena, not that she realises the gravity of her brother's action, but she seems as uncomfortable as you are, and it selfishly soothes you.

Then all eyes set on Alicent as she lets out uncotrollable giggles, which makes her grandson laugh. "Lady Alys Rivers," she says, more to herself than anyone else.

"It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, your Grace."

Her voice is smooth and seductive. If Aemond wasn't a Prince, you would have wondered how she could have laid an eye on him: not that Aemond is a bad-looking person, but his personnality is not attractive at all. He is not a talkative person and does make you feel uncomfortable if your presence is not wanted. While Alys Rivers seems to be a very seductive woman, both with men and women.

She knows she does not fit in whatever plan the Queen Mother has planned for her son, but she tries her best to earn the lesser part of respect Alicent could someday accord her.

Alicent forces a thin smile before adressing Aemond once again: "may I speak to you?"

Not waiting for Aemond's answer, she immediately gets up and vaguely excuses herself, Aemond on her footsteps.

The life that has forced itself to you does not seem real. You feel like you are watching a play where the plot evolves around people close to you, but you do not intervene in any part of this plot.

"Aemond spoke a lot about you, your Grace," Alys tries to reach Helaena, who is far away in her thoughts. In fact, she simply reacts by smiling slightly, her eyes focused on the lemon cake displayed on the table.

Maelor, who seems to feel his mother's anxiety, surprisingly reaches out for you and for a moment, you do not really understand how the boy has grown fond of you, but you eventually let him sit on your lap, whispering some words to his ear.

"The whole North heaps praise on your beauty, and I now see why," she says, and you do not look up right away, focused on Maelor's babbling and truthfully thinking that the compliment was meant for Helaena. But when you do, you see that she is staring at you.

You do not really how to respond. Should you compliment her as well? Strike up a conversation? Ask her why is she complimenting the wife of her lover?

"Thank you," you timidly say, not really comfortable with the situation. The only thing that makes your anxiety lessen is Maelor, not having any idea of what is going on right now and eating his lemon cake slice.

You feel imprisoned in the middle of a play. Someone else's play.

Your days are very similar to one another: you get up, get dressed, join Queen Alicent and Helaena in the gardens where you eat, you wander in the gardens for the whole afternoon and spend some time near the heart tree before getting supper, where Aemond and his lover sometimes grant you the privilege to eat with them, before going back to your chambers.

Not that your days in Winterfell were very special, but it is home. Was home.

Your mother and brother are still not back in Winterfell. The trip is difficult and long, but your mother keeps you informed whenever they stop by in a place that she considers safe for them.

The rare moments when you have to get out of your chambers, you do your very best to avoid everyone from the Greens, except for Helaena and her children. Helaena is very often lost in her own thoughts, but she is very nice to you when she tries to have a conversation. As for the children, you appreciate their unawareness and their innocence as you watch them play together.

Maelor has turned out to be your favorite one out of the three children: not that she intends to, but Helaena's favors for the twins is undeniable, and the youngest Prince seems almost naturally to seek comfort in your presence. In truth, you somehow seek comfort in the boy's company, too: you've grown fond of him, and he is now following you for the most part of the day, for the greatest pleasure of Alicent.

Alicent has been plotting to remove Alys from the court since the day she arrived, but it does not seem to be effective. Whenever she leaves, Aemond leaves with her. Your relationship with Aemond consists of avoiding each other, and greeting the other by a timid nod when the encounter becomes inevitable.

But now, as you are wandering in the streets of Kings Landing hiding your clothes under a cloak and you just happened to chance upon your dear husband, he too hidden under a cloak but easily recognizable with his eyepatch, you are both surprised to meet the other one in such a place.

"My Prince," you eventually say, growing uncomfortable with the heavy silence between you. You discreetly hide the ink you just bought below your cloak.

This is the first time you go outside the walls of the Red Keep. You have grown curious about the City after watching it from your window and just as you wanted to send a letter to your brother in all discretion, you have decided to take the plunge.

"What are you doing here?"

The bluntness of his question catches you offguard. You let out a humourless laugh.

"I could ask you the very same question."

You do not consider yourself arrogant, not at all. You would rather say confident. But Aemond carries a certain look on his face that irritates you as soon as he lands his eye on you.

You expect him to answer with a vile comment about whatever thing he can hurt your feelings with, but he simply replies: "I live here. This is merely a morning walk."

Your eyebrows raise at the reply, noting that Aemond does not even try to sound convincing. He simply does not wish you to know about his whereabouts around the streets of Kings Landing.

"Is there a piece of advice you would give to someone who has never been to Kings Landing before?" You ask him, feigning innocence, too.

Around you, people cross the street without even giving a second glance to the two of you, too busy in trying to find the suitable item among the many street merchants.

"Avoid Flea Bottom at all cost," he tells you, "unless you wish to end up dead or raped."

"I meant advice about the shops," you specify, remembering you were speaking to Aemond Targaryen.

"I think you do not need my advice, as you already found what you were looking for," he nods at your cloak, and you cannot help but frown. You quickly try to hide your ink more astutely under your cloth, hoping that he is bluffing and that he hasn't seen the item like he pretends.

"There is no need. I saw you coming out of that bookseller, and a book wouldn't have fit under that cloak," he points out, attempting to soothe the smirk forming on his lips without much success.

You think of something to say to persuade him this isn't what he thinks it is, but quickly surrender when you spot the way his lips twitch into a smirk.

"Are you following me?" You ask, struggling to hide your growing anger.

"I wasn't, but the gods seem to be protective over some Northern newcomers."

You snort slightly, doing your best not to roll your eyes. His gods would certainly not protect you. On the opposite, they would gladly send you to their supposedly hells: you wonder which one you would belong to.

"By sending you?" You raise your brows, displaying your doubts.

This is the longest exchange your husband and yourself have done since the two of you were married, and Aemond's clenching jaw and your growing impatience for his lack of response show how you aren't a matching pair: you're asking too many questions and his answers are to evasive.

"My Mother would like to speak with you," he announces, stepping forward and you stumble lightly at the move. "I shall make sure you join her in the Sept."

The second you were told that you would marry him and therefore move to Kings Landing, you knew your beliefs would be jeopardized. Indeed, the folk on the southern part of Westeros isn't fond of the old gods, especially with a Dowager Queen who venerates the newly seven. You knew your love for the old gods wouldn't be welcomed here, but you still kept them close to your heart by paying a visit to the weirwood tree in the fortress.

"The Sept?"

Aemond stops in his tracks as he hears the sound of your voice, and even though he is standing with his back to you, you can see the top of his body slowly rise and fall, probably because he is sighing.

"Come," he simply tells you, though it is rather a command.

You reluctantly follow him through the crowd piled up in the different streets of the city. He seems to know it like the back of his hand, and you wonder how many times he wandered throughout it for him to know every single corner of every single street.

Aemond does not need to inform you that you have reached the Sept when you are in front of it, as the tall and imposing building speaks for itself.

You wonder why Alicent wishes to see you, and especially why it cannot wait until she's finished praying to her gods. Will she force you to pray with her? Does she want you to admit that you do not believe in the same gods as herself and her son?

As Aemond grips the door handle of the Sept, the movement allows you to have a glimpse of the underside of his cloak and you notice some sort of herb sachets underneath. Yet, you make no comment and enter the building silently, your husband holding the door for you.

"Lady Stark," your hear Alicent's voice echo through the sept, and you spot where she is knealing. She is in front of an imposant statue where candles are lit all around. You would lie if you say that there isn't something comforting in the silence emaning from the Sept. Outside of these walls, Kings Landing seems to never be quiet: including when you couldn't sleep during the hours of the night, you could hear the wandering guards trying to speak lowly outside of your doors.

You carefully walk towards the Dowager Queen as you see she does not move, waiting for you to come over.

"Your Grace," you slightly bow your head, hands clasped in one another.

"Join me, please," she smiles at you, and you see her hand patting the empty space next to her.

You attempt to hide the discomfort you feel towards her invitation: you do not wish to get on your knees to pray the Seven, but this is clearly an invitation in order to test the waters.

Having her on your side is essential if you consider leaving this place someday: from what you have understood since you arrived here, she is Aemond's safeguard from madness. She would be the one reasoning him if he tries to put your life at risk, not because she is a decent person that took a liking of you, but because she is a good manners woman.

You reluctantly kneel beside her, your eyes wandering around the ceiling before staring at your knees.

"Do you often pray, my dear?" She asks, handing you a votive candle that isn't yet lit up.

"I do, your Grace," you respond, moving the candle nearer the fire of those already burning. Once your candle catches fire, you delicately set it down next to the others. As you catch Alicent setting her gaze on you, you do your best to keep your composure and to prevent your hands from shaking.

Then she lets out a sigh. "I've always wondered about the religious habits of people from the North. It is said that many still believe in the old gods."

You're tempted to say something, but the end of her sentence does not sound as the end of a speech, so you let your sentence die and keep silent.

You see her smile, but the smile doesn't reach her eyes. "They are proud and loyal people. Loyal to their roots and to their oaths."

"Indeed," you answer, not sure where she wants to lead this conversation.

"You see, I fear for those people," she lets out a sigh. "Have you heard of the Shepherd?"

You say no with your head. "See, this man is out there, trying to persuade the people of Kings Landing that the King does not represent the Faith of the Seven."

You listen carefully. Aegon is indeed not a very accurate representation of the Faith: marrying his sister and therefore breeding incestuous children is a sin, whether in the Faith of the Seven as in the eyes of the Old Gods. You also learned that he was very often visiting the most luxurious brothels of Kings Landing: his bastards must be running freely around the streets of the city.

"He is setting the common folk against its ruler," you comment, getting where she wants to lead you.

"It is our duty, I as the Dowager Queen and you as the King's good sister to show the people our devotion to our gods."

This is why she wanted me here, you think. So that you could be seen entering the Sept.

"People are everywhere. Around the streets, outside the gates but also within the Keep," she explains, and you understand her innuendo.

No more visit to the heart tree.

"We must be irreproachable. You must seem beyond reproach," she cautiously says, softly gripping your arm. You glance at her hand on your arm, and all you can see is her bitten and chapped fingers. "Do you understand, my dear?"

The Targaryens are in danger, but so are you. You're all threats in the eyes of this Shepherd.

"I do, Your Grace."

Since the Queen Dowager has expressly asked you to be convincing in your role as follower of the new gods, you thought you'd start by paying homage to the Mother, reason why you're currently heading to the Tower of the Hand to discuss the idea with the man.

However, your good brother has decided otherwise as he comes the other way, flashing a smile as he takes you in.

"Lady Stark," he calls out. "We haven't got the time to discuss yet."

"Your Grace," you bow, returning a shy smile. "Sadly we have not."

You would have been happy not to change the course of things, but you've noticed that Aegon likes annoying people and does not prevent himself.

Aegon Targaryen is a strange man. You sometimes see him wandering through the halls of Maegor's Holdfast struggling to walk straight, a cup of wine in one hand. He is not the man crafted to be King, you would even say that the crown he is wearing does not even fit around his many white curls.

"Is Kings Landing to your liking?" He asks.

"Though it is not very similar to Winterfell, I find myself liking it, Your Grace," you lie.

"I am content you're happy here," he says, dismissing his guards by a handwave. You look at the two guards retreating, leaving you and the King alone. You instinctively look down, somehow uncomfortable with the mere thought of you two alone.

"What of my brother?" Aegon questions and you look up to find him taking two steps forward.

You do not really know how you should respond: given the undeniable satisfaction your marriage to Aemond gave to Aegon, the two brothers do not seem to get along.

"What of your brother, Your Grace?"

"Is he kind to you? Is he treating you well?"

"He is, Your Grace," you lie. "We are getting a-"

"Do not lie to me, goodsister," he interrupts, his eyes boring into yours as you feel his hand grazing the skin of your cheek. "Lying to a king is not a wise thing. Don't you think?

You feel your face flashing red. He can sense your uncomfort, but does not seem to care.

He wants to make you feel uncomfortable. He wants you to know he has the upper hand and could do anything he wishes to you.

"There is no need to be ashamed, Lady Stark. Perhaps I could show you how-"

"Your Grace."

The voice calling out Aegon instinctively makes you close your eyes, relief invading your whole being as you hear footsteps approaching.

"Brother," Aegon's hand beats a hasty retreat from your face and he smiles, but his smile does not reach his eyes. "I was just discussing with your dear wife."

"The Lord Hand is waiting for Lady Stark and myself in his study."

Not without some courage, you slowly step backwards until you are nearly standing next to Aemond. He does not look at you, he is staring at his brother in silence. You could almost find the silence uncomfortable: turns out you're to stunned to notice the uncomfort of the scene.

"Of course, he probably wishes to speak to you about Casterly Rock," Aegon explains and you furrow your brows, displaying your ignorance. What is it to know about the Lannisters' home?

"Please do give Daeron my regards, will you?" Aegon says to his brother.

Aemond does not make any comment but simply bows and you imitate him, a breath you didn't know you were holding escaping your lips when you see Aegon going backwards and eventually turning around.

Aemond seems to finally notice your presence and turns to you. His eye is scanning your face, searching for any trace of harm Aegon might have left. Only when he hears you sighing of relief do his features slightly soften.

Then, without being aware of the words leaving your lips, you whisper: "I am sorry."

You do not really comprehend the reason of your apologises. Perhaps it is for your recklessness. Perhaps for his affair with Alys Rivers that will never flower the way he wants it to do so, or even for your mere and arranged marriage. You do not actually know, but you feel the need to say so.

Nodding his head, he simply responds: "come, my Grandsire wishes to speak to us."

You have quickly noticed that he isn't a very talkative person, so you aren't surprised when you don't receive a formal reply. But for the first time since your marriage, you almost feel at ease standing next to him.

Tags: @yentroucnagol @tempt-ress @crazymusicgirl104 @unclecrunkle @brie-annwyl @pax-2735 @castellomargot @bellaisasleep

#aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #hotd #aemond x fem!reader #aemond imagine

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kaitokitty19 · 2 months

Note

Seeing lurking for a while but would love to ask more about your Aptx4689 aus, specifically tiny!Hakuba but Arthur's appearance is came right after Hakuba's sudden leave of absence to "solve a case". Probably means it'll be extra quiet for Kaito while the rest of the class moves on with their high school life since this is normal for them.

What do you think Kaito's reaction is when he's asked what he thought about Arthur as "the second Kid Killer"? And if Arthur is one day found waiting for him outside of their school? (Cue Aoko asking if Kaito babysitting Arthur because he missed Hakuba. Arthur is deeply amused as Kaito sputters)

hiiiii, sorry for the late response; your ask had me thinking for a bit 😃

I think you're right, for the class, nothing would seem out of the ordinary since Hakuba's already frequently absent from class. But for Kaito, Aoko caught him glancing at Hakuba's desk more, being more quiet. She charged this up to Kaito's having a crush on said detective (which Kaito does, he just didn't know it yet lol).

I don't think someone as careful as Hakuba would show up at Ekoda high, however, since he stay at Kaito's, one day Aoko just badge in while they're discussing the Black Org and saw him > cue reaction similar to Ran in the first chap. Except Kaito spluttered and said it's Hakuba's relative from abroad, which springs a boatload more question from his childhood friend. Luckily, Kaito's good at adlibing shits: "Yes it's Hakuba's cousin visiting"; "No, Hakubastard had to run to solve some case and is currently abroad"; "Am I watching over the kid because I miss him? Psssh, he paid me to do it!"

And I don't think Arthur would be the second KID Killer. If anything, Kaito would proclaim him "KID's biggest fan" because: a) it would make sense to Aoko that Hakuba would pay Kaito - a known KID fanatic - to babysit this "cousin"; b) it would explain his inaction at heists when he shadows the Detective Boys; and c) it pisses Hakuba off so much it's funny.

Another thing is that since Hakuba now knows there is such thing as aptx4869 exists, he pretty quickly deduced the real identity of Conan (Chalice of Selene comics where when Hakuba throw Conan, he said "Sorry Kudo" instead of "Conan"). But since he hadn't yet know how Shinichi is planning to act, what sorts of security and threats is on him, and fearing that associations with him would lead the Black Org members who might be watching Conan straight to KID, Hakuba has reserves about formally forming an alliance. Which is why he enrolled at the primary school: to watch Conan closely before making a decision.

It should also be noted that in this AU, Saguru is completely head-over-heels for Kaito, but had long since resigned himself to be contended with unrequited affection. He believes himself to be no more than a nuisance to Kaito and is only being kept around because Kaito felt indebted to him for saving his life. Whatever the case, Saguru is prepared to sacrifice much for Kaito. On the other hand, Kaito, being his tsundere self, acts all annoyed because he's flustered by Hakuba. In truth, he harbors quite a big crush on his classmate, but disregards the fluttering feeling he felt each time to the adrenaline of the chase.

so yeah, they're messy 🫠 But as they work together and face various danger trying to dismantle the Black Org, I'm sure their truth would slowly be brought to the light 😉 (pun intended)

ahhh anw, sorry for the long post 🥲 if you haven't notice, I like to ramble lol

#I just noticed that both Shinichi and Saguru get to live with their crushes under the influence of aptx #Amen to Sherry #hakukai #dcmk #hakuba saguru #detco #kuroba kaito #magic kaito #kaitou kid #白快 #sagukai #aptx!au #aptx au #au #aptx4869!au #aptx4869

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thesuperiorrobin · 2 years

Text

“I don’t like sleeping alone anymore ”

❥Pairing: Damian Wayne x FemReader

❥word count: 997

❥Summary: Damian confronts you after acting weird this past couple of days do Ku to find out you haven’t been sleeping, but for what reason?

❥Warning: mentions of nightmares

You had always had trouble sleeping, to the point where you had to go to the doctor so they could prescribe you medication but that never worked. The nightmares that you suffered constantly always came back. The lack of sleep had caused you to zone out in the middle of class, Damian had noticed. Noticing the way you would fall asleep and quickly jolt awake made him worry. He thought you were just pulling all nighter for an upcoming test, but that wasn’t the case here.

It wasn't until he had come to visit you during his patrol late at night when he realized.

You always leave your bedroom window open for him, making it easier for him to enter and he finds you struggling to keep yourself awake—sitting by your desk, leaning over it with a bright lamp as the only light source in your room. Watching as your head bobbles itself up and is trying to keep the weight up.

He frowns, gently walking up to you—the ex-trained-assassin's footsteps are quiet as he approaches you, placing a warm hand on your shoulder.

You jolted wide awake, head snapping to the side to see who’s hand it was. Eyes soften when you realize it was just Damian in his Robin suit.

“Oh Damian!” You whispered loudly— for only him to hear fearing you might wake up your sleeping parents “sorry. I was getting homework done. Math and my forensic class are really kicking my ass this semester”

A tired laugh escapes past your lips as you try to hide back a yawn.

“Are you alright, beloved?” Damian worriedly tilts his head “you’ve been….more inactive lately. Not in a bad way, but in a way that doesn’t seem yourself”

When Damian worries about you it makes you feel guilty. Not because he’s focused just on you but because you don’t tell him what’s bothering you. He always reassures you that you are his top priority—having a whole conversation between the two of you about why you’re first and his life outside of Damian Wayne comes second. You think saving the world is more important than you having silly nightmares that will eventually go away at some point.

“Oh it’s nothing. I’ve just been caught up with school and all I barely have time to sleep”

You lied and Damian knows it—which pains him even more. He lets out a soft sigh as his hands grasp the chair you sat on and he pulls it towards him. He grasps your hand shortly after and pulls you up to your feet.

“You’re having trouble sleeping,” he says. Pulling you away from your desk and turning off the light—still having a tight soft hold on your hand. “Those circles under your eyes tell me you haven’t slept not an ounce in a while. Have you not?”

Your silence was enough for him as he dragged you to your bed. He motions for you to get comfortable and you do so without a word. Silently watching as he opens your closet—pulling out a pair of night clothes fit for him, seeing as he left him in your bedroom when he secretly sleeped with you during summer vacation. You play with your fingers as he changes. Damian doesn’t like the silence you give him. He rather have you talk his ears off like you always do, talking about random subjects that come to mind. When you didn’t do that however he knew something was wrong.

“What wrong y/n” Damian climbs into bed, sitting right next to you as he once Gaona graos your hand into his. His thumb is softly rubbing at the back of your hand.

“It’s nothing really” you let out a laugh hoping to make things a bit more lighter “I’m just tired from all the school work”

“You are lying, beloved. And the only reason I know that is because you aren’t looking me directly in the eyes like you a always do”

You always hated how observant Damian was.

“Please tell me what’s wrong”

“Promise you won’t make fun of me?”

He wraps his arms around your shoulders—pulling you closer to his side as you gripped his fingers snuggling closer into his side. Having a wave of protectiveness and a warm feeling in your chest. He gently rubs his tan cheek against yours, digging his face into your neck.

“Never” he whispers into your ear.

A shaky sigh leaves your lips and Damian holds you tighter.

“Nightmares” you choke back a small sob “they just keep coming back. No matter what I do. No matter how much help I get they always come back. I know they aren’t real but…they just feel so real it’s scary. Sometimes I wonder if they’ll come true. I can’t keep doing it. I can’t keep going to sleep if those nightmares keep coming back. And I can’t keep staying up. I’m losing my mind—im falling behind in most of my classes. I just can’t- I just don’t like to sleep alone anymore-“

Damian listened carefully, still holding you close as you cried out to him about your nightmares. The ones that keep you up—hunting you. He mentally wishes he could just fight them for you but that’s just a silly thought. He waits until you’ve calmed yourself down. Once you’ve done that he lays the both of you down. Fixing the position you were both in.

Laying on your side in your lover's arms. Just the way you liked it.

“You don’t have to worry, beloved” he gently twirls a strand of your hair or two around his finger, “as silly as I’m about to sound and as much as it pains me to say—I’ll help you fight those horrid nightmares of yours. Or I’ll do it myself. As for now I’ll stay with you for that night. How does that sound?”

“I’ll…I’ll like that”

#damian al ghul #batfamily #batman x fem!reader #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader #damian x reader #damian al ghul x reader

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the-lemonaut · 1 day

Text

Let's try this again, tumblr. Let's hope this one actually shows up in the feed.

Beware 🍉scam posts, like this one, most likely:

Now I can't guarantee it's 100% fake, but a few red flags pop up that make me believe it's not legit.

Firstly, this is not the first account to post this copy-paste, there have been at least 3 more, all posting this same text during April 2024. All of them are now inactive:

I also found a person in the notes for the 3rd one claiming they got it sent to their inbox, when the blog was only a day old:

Next up: you'd think a real person who's been trying to get donations for such a serious matter would show some frustration, have some opinions or anything of the sort, but all this blog has is reblogs of (extremely popular) posts in support of 🍉and an (imo) extremely generic bio/profile:

There are 39 reblogs in total, no original posts besides the copy-paste, and all of those reblogs have been made on April 30th between 6:31 and 6:36 PM. No tags in sight anywhere, just seemingly mechanical reshares.

At 6:31 they reblogged some twitter screenshots, at 6:32 they reblogged a 4-minute video, and in that same 32nd minute they reblogged 5 more posts. They did not watch that video.

Fake accounts tend to reblog/post lots of stuff in a short period of time to create an illusion of being a legitimate person with a life and opinions, hoping nobody checks the date of the posts.

And finally, the link they give to donate to them leads to this Paypal page (this is public information so I feel it is appropriate to share as a demonstration):

While it's technically possible for almost anyone to have any sort of name, Wafula is a male Kenyan name, putting into question the purpose of the woman on the profile banner as well as the legitimacy of the person's nationality.

Why am I picking apart a post with less than 60 current notes? As an example.

I'm not immune to being scammed and neither are you. These kinds of posts are a great way for people to get your money because they make you feel sympathy.

It's an old story, really, people have been doing this since forever, we just have to stay alert. Check accounts that ask for donations such as these for legitimacy, even if it might take a bit of your time. Don't let yourself and others be tricked.

Probably stay clear of super young accounts, and/or ones that reblog super popular posts in a matter of minutes and then go quiet etc. Let's save the money for real people who are in real distress.

#recognizing scam posts #i'm not an expert or anything but i can point to things i know #be careful with resharing things in general

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yuurivoice · 6 months

Note

Idk if this question is deep but what's your favourite part of your day?

I like it when i just wake up and i drink my coffee in the quiet or when i drive through fog in the morning to go to work! I find it brings peace to the rest of my day xo

That's a great question and kind of a bummer answer I've got for you. Currently there isn't really a part of my day I love. Like really love.

Mornings are great in function. I have a glass of coffee, take my meds, make breakfast. The cats are playing and lounging, I might throw sports talk on the TV and do the dishes, take out the garbage. My mornings have become really routine and I like that. But it's not really great, it just helps me operate.

Midday varies, I go to the gym twice a week and I do like that quite a bit now. My body hurts from years of inactivity and wasting away but sweating and maintaining a schedule feels nice. It's a personal accomplishment and I am proud, so I love that I think.

I try to work. Maybe I write, maybe I record. That may come with headaches though. The cats fuss if I shut the door so sometimes recording in the booth is a struggle. My spaces are nice, but they're not ideal. I don't feel much whimsy or wonder or joy in my rooms. I've tried to fix that, but it doesn't really feel like home.

Evenings are nice, usually spent chatting with friends and doing fun things. Watching a show, playing a game. But it's still not quite right.

I've felt this way for a few years now. My move to Texas was marred by a lot of trauma. Deep relationships fractured, incredible stress, the loss of spaces I felt safe in. It's not the house's fault, it's not Austin's fault, it's not anyone's fault, but I haven't felt like I've been home in years. I'm simply renting this space and biding my time until something changes.

So after some time feeling sorry for myself and wallowing in mental anguish, I've decided to make necessary changes to improve myself and become better so that in the next few years I will find parts of my day that I love. I want to love the drive to the gym. I want to step outside and be surrounded by a view that makes me happy I made it this far. I want to feel like I'm safe.

Currently, I feel like I'm fighting. Like I've been fighting for years. Like I've lost a lot. Like I am in a worse position than I was in nearly every aspect of life. And that's on me. So it's also on me to change that.

I only get by on little moments these days, so I'm trying to make the most of this frustration and use it to motivate myself to change.

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sherbet-shivers · 7 days

Text

A Minor Malfunction Part 1/3

We need to ignore that this is 6 years late ashgdahls (I only just got to play D/etroit: B/ecome H/uman and my love for sweet baby boy Co/nnor is alive)! Also figured snz is still snz, so even if you don’t care for the fandom you might enjoy the main course anyway lol

**Please do not share to non-kink snz blogs — no need to drag vanillas into this! This is also my first time posting to tumblr at all, so formatting tips are always welcome <3**

Blurb: Connor suffers a little virus (Part 2 here and Part 3 here)

Characters: Co/nnor R/K800 (-centric because he’s babygirl) and H/ank A/nderson

Length: 4k+ words

TW: cursing, minor robot discrimination; no spoilers

“You’re quiet tonight, Connor,” Hank observes between sips of his drink. His name triggers the Android to lift his head and meet his partner’s gaze, which studies him conspicuously.

Connor smiles a bit stiffly. “You usually prefer me quiet, Lieutenant.”

His investigative partner groans. “Yeah, when you’re barking up my ass,” he scoffs, though his voice lacks any hints of malice. The two had been working a handful of Deviant cases together and Hank’s introductory disdain had subtly been reduced to something warmer. Teasing had become their shared language, which was a preferred change of pace from where they’d started; not to mention a great way to lighten the mood between all the rumors of homicide and an Android uprising. Still, in spite of their growing closeness, Connor doubted Hank considered him a true partner, let alone a friend, but at least the two were no longer arguing like they had been a few weeks prior.

“So,” Hank starts again, “what’s going on with you?”

Connor makes a face, even tilting his head a bit before glimpsing side to side. “Nothing, as we’re currently idle in a bar.”

“No shit, smartass. I mean what’s going on, as in why are you acting all funny?”

“Funny?” Connor sifts through his memory, trying to recall a recent instance in which he’d been humorous by Hank’s standards. To no one’s surprise, he comes up empty. “I don’t recall acting funny. Why? Do you want to hear a joke?”

“Wha-? No! Christ, nevermind; just forget I said anything you weirdo,” Hank dismisses.

Connor didn’t mind the rejection (nothing was personal to machines), but he was programmed to follow orders; thus, he re-quiets, following Hank’s lead.

However, just because he’s silent, doesn’t mean he’s inactive. An Android’s life was rarely dull given there was a full 24 hours in day to take advantage of. As much as Hank said he loved naps, Connor couldn’t imagine wasting precious work hours to sleep.

Even now they were technically “freed” of their investigative duties, but Connor still had plenty of personal maintenance to attend to. It was the daily obligation of an RX800 model like himself (all AI models really), and so he promptly runs a survey of his internal diagnostics. Aside from making his masters happy, it was an Android’s priority to ensure that everything about them is up to date and code — ranging from their adaptive software to the state of their hard drive.

At the same time, he decides to trace through the entirety of his memories, still determined to figure out what Hank meant when he said “acting funny”. Funny…the word repeats in Connor’s head. Human emotions and terms were somewhat difficult to diagnose on his own, though Hank’s recent company had introduced Connor to a wide collection of colorful language. So many terms denoted so many different meanings, many of which were subjective and therefore wildly confusing to a purely calculative mind. So when Hank said Connor was “acting funny”, what exactly did that mean? His type of humor was unique (and apt to change given his BAC), so maybe what he found funny wasn’t what Connor had originally filtered for. Or maybe…the term meant something entirely different altogether? But, then what did that mean? Questions like these are what made humans so fascinating and troubling according to Connor’s programming. He could run himself in circles for hours asking the same questions, constantly seeking meaning, searching for answers, decoding Hank’s unusual phrases-

Suddenly, an alarm goes off in Connor’s system, alerting him to some kind of error in his software. It’s honestly startling, catching the Android surprisingly off-guard for once. This…hadn’t ever happened before; at least, not while he was without a suitable guardian or engineer nearby. Thankfully he’s already wired to know exactly how to respond, and thus promptly performs a system-wide scan to diagnose the error in question. Within seconds, his answer is received, though to his misfortune, it’s little more conclusive.

Code: C5Y0091-24BC. Classification: Unauthorized Bio-Component Breach By Unknown Digital Error. Software Virus Suspected. Result: Bio-Component Defects And Malfunction. CyberLife has been automatically contacted. Expect an update within 24 hours.

A single blink has Connor back in reality, surrounded by the musky odors characteristic of the many bars he and Hank frequently hopped. Hank is muttering something about the game with Jimmy’s bartender, but Connor hardly hears them.

Virus? Malfunction? How could that be possible? Connor had experienced software issues in the past, but many were easily patched or otherwise resolved by his masters, sometimes within seconds! So this was…unusual to say the least. He’d been warned of course to stay vigilant against hackers, obvious glitches, chain mail, pirated sites, FaceBook and other shady threats — it’s why he ran diagnostics multiple times a day. So how could this have happened? How could he have been so negligent to have missed something?

At least CyberLife had been notified, which meant he’d only have to wait a few hours for his orders on how to proceed; but until then, what was he expected to do? He was hesitant to trust himself, especially after being branded by his own system as potentially defective.

Malfunction. The word echoes through his system and encourages Connor to continue searching his recent stored memories. He weaves through the past effortlessly in search of anything that could stand out or explain his current predicament…and that’s when he’s reminded of what Hank said not more than two minutes ago. Funny. Had he really slipped up so poorly even he hadn’t noticed something but Hank did? What did it mean if a trained AI couldn’t catch a mistake while a human so easily could?

Connor chooses not to answer that question as he comes across a particular gap in his memory — one he hadn’t noticed until now. It was short — a blackout lasting no more than four seconds — but that may as well have been an eternity if it meant there was an absence of crucial information. Rewinding prior to the lull in time, Connor revisits a particular scene during he and Hank’s investigation earlier that same day.

The two of them had been assigned to a Deviant case involving an unnamed MJ100. The dog sitter had been out walking two corgis, both belonging to its owner when it was confronted by a group of six human protesters. After being cornered, the Android was jumped, pushed to the ground, and kicked repeatedly, enduring damage to its left ocular component and minor denting targeting its knee attachment on the same side. Its gait was consequently deemed unstable as it tried to pick itself up. As it could not recalculate its balance, it was knocked down a second time; and on its third attempt, the Android had defied its programming and resorted to fighting off its aggressors using heavy handed tactics and a nearby blunt object (presumably one of the protester’s sign boards). It then attempted to flee the scene but made it less than a block away before being tackled and deactivated by a local officer.

Weirdly enough, the next few details are a bit scrambled within Connor’s hard drive. All that is clear is that while investigating the Android’s body and calculating the damage, Connor’s vision goes dark — particularly after coming into direct contact with its bio components. It’s a startling discovery, and his vision only seems to return a few seconds later after Hank snaps at him to answer a question he’d claimed to have repeated once before.

Following that instance, minor things that should’ve caught Connor’s attention had gone completely unnoticed. His temperatures were running high and low interchangeably by several degrees, his system wasn’t adequately flushing out debris causing congestion within his gears, and even his processing speed — which usually ran above peak performance — was barely keeping up with that of a model two series back.

How had he missed all that? Surely he would’ve recalled Hank repeating himself, if not the obvious lull in time and all the issues impairing his components. Why couldn’t he put together a simple sequence of events? Just how damaging was this virus? What happened to him within that lost period?

“Hey!”

Connor glimpses at Hank, who is snapping in his line of sight. The old detective snorts once he realizes Connor has come to.

“Jesus, I guess even robots can be space cadets now, huh?” He muses as he slaps a wadded up stack of bills onto the counter and slides them over to the standing bartender. “I’m heading home to feed my dog. You’d better go back to the station and recharge yourself, Blinky. That fucking disc in your temple is going crazy.”

Without any further pleasantries, Hank takes off towards the door and exits the bar through a cloud of cigarette smoke. Connor meant to pay for his drinks and a ride home, but he supposed that’d have to wait until tomorrow. For now, it was probably best he follow his partner’s commands. After all, he was made to heed directions, and eager to run another diagnostic scan undisturbed.

Going in the opposite direction of his partner, Connor starts his way back to the police station downtown, occupying his walk by fumbling with the trademark silver coin he carries in his pocket. Hopefully all he needed for a fresh start was an overnight rebooting.

…

Connor Model Prototype RX800 — Serial Number: 313 248 317. Functionality: Below Average. Code: C5Y0091-24BC. Classification: Unauthorized Bio-Component Breach By Digital Error 2B9YD77158G. Software Virus Confirmed. Result: Bio-Component Defects And Malfunction. Self-Repairs Update Initialized. Time Remaining: 62 Hours, 58 Minutes, And 23 Seconds. System performance is being automatically monitored by and reported to CyberLife HQ.

The alert rouses him from his sleep mode. It wasn’t the best news to start the day with, but then again, neither was this creeping sensation bothering his nose and tickling his chest. He attempts another scan to source out the cause, but is immediately interrupted by a sudden, involuntary gasp. The reaction quickly proves out of his control; because in spite of trying to fight and diagnose it, his efforts prove futile as his chest inflates, mouth parts, and he’s bent at the waist with an unexpected-

“Ah’HTSHh’iew!” And another? “Iihy’YDTZSH’shH! Hh-?!” And another?? “hK’SCH’uh!”

He shakes his head and sniffles instinctively, more than a little surprised and uneasy following such an aggressive series of outbursts. He didn’t like that one bit, and could only assume that a reflex like that attested to the true extent of his malfunction. Not only that, but the annoying fluttering feeling in his face hadn’t been remotely relieved; if anything, it’d been stirred and hurled through his system like a shock of irritating static. He wasn’t familiar with automatic overrides to his manual settings, and didn’t wish to experience that again if he could help it.

Straightening his back, he ignores the blank gazes from his fellow policing Androids, who are similarly parked in their charging stations in rows running to his left and right.

“Excuse me,” Connor murmurs, not that any of his companions could feel offended by his unusual behavior. He’d only said it out of sheer obligation, though perhaps somewhere deep in his system he was also preventing being viewed as a threat…as unfortunately impaired.

A malfunction.

For the sake of preserving his public image, he would commit himself to being as discreet as possible. He wasn’t a malfunction, and he would set himself to prove it. He just had to get through the next two days without drawing unwanted attention or affording any more hiccups. He could do that.

Right?

…

For the first time since his creation and introduction to the public eye, Connor was experiencing…doubts. The virus he’d contracted was proving to be more difficult to supersede the more hours that went on. The rate of his degradation was…less than optimal, to say the least. For one, his bio-components (as predicted) were suffering unfamiliar glitches all over. His movements were sluggish despite a full night’s charge, and his data processing was running at a measly 73% speed — even slower than last night. His internal temperatures were rising and falling like a seesaw; the balance constantly tipped between too hot and too cold. It was starting to affect his bio regulators, which couldn’t decide if he needed to start letting off steam or shiver through the morning. Thankfully, these ailments weren’t too difficult to hide so long as he was diligent in monitoring them and constantly tracking their progression. As soon as something was apt to change, he was quick to process a solution in order to appear as normal and high functioning as possible.

What he couldn’t predict nor control was the sudden influx of outbursts.

It’d only been a handful of hours since he “woke”, and even less time since the station opened up to its human staff; and already, Connor was slipping up here and there. As an Android, people paid him little attention (which actually worked in his favor), but that didn’t mean he wasn’t concerned over being reported by a fellow Android or a stray, observant human. After all, he’d discovered that no matter how hard he tried, he still couldn’t do much to prevent-

“Iiy’aASCH’hiEW!”

That. He despised the act itself, and grew frustrated every time it took him by surprise. Why was it so difficult to challenge or prepare for? If he had just a little more notice, he could stop himself or at least attempt to override its command. However, every time he tried, he just couldn’t. He was being outplayed by an infraction, a glitch — a minor one at that! — and that only added to the frustration gnawing at his senses.

As if the lack of control alone wasn’t bad enough, he was also starting to tire of the persistent, crawling itch tracing his nose and teasing at the inner cavity. It was terribly irritating, prompting him to pinch and rub at his face, or sweep a knuckle under the sensitive (and offending) appendage. But doing so often only relit the flame, like a match reigniting a fire so close to dying, but reluctant to fade out. Even now, just as he earns some relief thanks to a series of sniffling and scrubbing, he feels that ember kicking up again; tickling and teasing against his inner sinuses until he’s forced to-

“eE’SHYIU’Uui! ‘dSHH!…ha’hh-! uH’-!”

The final one teases him, so much so he isn’t even certain it’s the last one. He’s aware he must look ridiculous — an Android caught in a hysteric limbo, interrupted by a dysfunction that it’d never succumb to before, let alone conceived. He tries desperately to fight it — to prove he can use sheer logic to overcome his own reflex, but the itch is just too overwhelming, causing his eyes to squint and lips to quiver. So after a few good seconds of rebelling against the inevitable, he hastily pardons himself to the station’s supply closet, locks the door behind him, and surrenders to his system.

In his clumsy haste however, he had managed to knock over a few spare broomsticks, and even rattled a small tower of cardboard boxes. His vision was immediately clouded by a puff of gray, but he didn’t have much time to observe or clean up the mess since he was already too busy-

“ae’ESHHEW’ww! Aa’KSCH’yIEW! T’tdSSH’yiEW!”

Was it getting worse?! Between hitching breaths Connor struggles to perform another scan. He interrupts himself twice, but ultimately the result comes back, reading out in bold text: Environmental Irritant Level: High. Bio-Receptor Reactivity: High. System Override: Automatic. Self-Repairs Update Ongoing. Time Remaining: 57 Hours, 22 Minutes, And 19 Seconds. System performance is being automatically monitored by and reported to CyberLife H-

“HHh’ITSH’hUuii! Ahh…h’ah-! H’-! H’PTzsSH’IEWw!”

They were stumbling out of him in pairs and triples now, every fittish burst triggering glitches in his sight and sending shivers down his core. He tries to keep them quiet by smothering his nose into his palm, but air manages to slip out anyway, making hisses of noise he’s starting to find…embarrassing? Perhaps shameful was a more accurate term, on second thought.

Still caught between sneezing or not sneezing, he squints through bubbling gasps and hones in on his immediate area. His specs focus in on the particles of dust scattered around him; no doubt disturbed by his sudden entrance. His system classifies the debris as a common irritant. Ah. So that’s what was setting him off worse than before.

He shakes his head and scrubs at his nose with a free knuckle. Here he thought he’d finally found some reprieve only to cause himself another problem. He should’ve expected this or pre-calculated the chances of this happening, but of course little was working in his favor with a bugged out tactical unit.

“Hih’PTSHH’ieew! Ah’haaH-…!”

Seriously? How long did this usually last?

“h’H-…! Nnng…oH’H-!…oh…”

Connor lets out an artificial sigh, his nose twitching aggressively and mouth uncurling from a snarl. The itch hasn’t quite dissipated, but at least the urge to sneeze has retreated for the time being. As he scratches at his face and sniffs testily, he makes a mental note-to-self to avoid any more stale or dirty areas over the next two days.

He had to get out of here, before someone noticed he went missing or worse, caught him in the act of hiding. Reluctant to get dragged into another fit but eager to escape, he raises his arm and buries his nose against his sleeve — a courtesy he believes humans are commonly accustomed to when they suffer similar ailments. He then tends to the supplies around him, returning them to their exact state before he’d made a wreck of things. Once adequately tidied (both he and the closet space), Connor tentatively unlocks the closet and exits the shroud of its privacy.

The immediate change in lighting is too fast for his eyes to process, causing a temporary blindness that stings his circuits and scatters pixels across his vision. He grimaces unconsciously as he heads towards his desk, and to his surprise, the commanding officer is waiting for him when he approaches.

“There you are RX800. We’ve got a new report about a Deviant downtown. I want you to pull Hank from wherever the fuck he is and go investigate.”

The chief slips a manilla folder into Connor’s hands then readjusts the belt around his gut. Connor busies himself with downloading the walls of text in his hands, then blinks up at his boss with an automated smile.

“Of course, Chief Fowler. I’ll be sure to retrieve Mr. Anderson, and we will investigate the scene immediately.”

His response is somewhat obvious, but still, the chief approves of his confirmation, nodding as he starts to brush past the bot. Connor glimpses down at the data in his hands again, when suddenly, his captain pauses and waves for his attention. Promptly, Connor swivels on his heel.

“You look different, RX,” the officer acknowledges, more skeptical than worried. “More…,” he ponders for the words, eventually settling on, “blue.”

Blue? Connor couldn’t tell what his commander meant, at least not with his processing unit so slow to react. Did he mean sad — as in the human emotional equivalent of blue? Taking a guess, Connor puts on his best smile in spite of his state and shakes his head.

“I assure you I’m normal, Captain. Fully functioning and eager to follow your directives!”

He hopes his summery tone is enough to dissuade his captain’s lingering stare — which it ultimately does — however, instead of looking appeased, his commander only looks more confused before resuming his strut in the other direction. Connor shuffles uncomfortably where he remains, glimpsing side to side self-consciously in case other people have witnessed his untimely encounter with the chief. Thankfully nobody seems to notice, but in the midst of his search, Connor manages to catch a glimpse at his own reflection against Hank’s black computer screen. He leans a bit closer to get a better look at himself, and what he finds puts his erroneous state into further perspective.

His hair is disheveled, the corners of his eyes tainted with faint webs of static, and his cheeks and nose are dusted a blue color eerily similar to that of his Thirium — his blue blood. That’s probably what Fowler was talking about; and if that wasn’t already damning enough, Connor could only imagine what Hank would say (or think) when he fetched him.

Connor smooths back his hair and pats at his cheeks. He’d have to be extra cautious with Hank if he wanted to dodge his attention. It’d be a difficult task given the detective had already picked up on his mild dysfunction the night prior, but Connor was always committed to giving his best effort. Sure, it may slow down his rate of update, but likely by a negligible amount.

Confident in his ability to disguise his condition, Connor tucks the Chief’s folder under his arm and heads down the nearest hallway towards the station’s south exit. This would work, and it would be worth it.

Anything was worth it if it meant sparing Hank’s judgment.

…

By the time Connor reaches Hank’s house, he’s damp with rainwater. He’d made longer treks in the rain in the past, but this time, he’d failed to take into account how the weather would affect his weakened system. Currently his internal temperature sat at an unusual low of 57 degrees Fahrenheit, and his whole body was shaking to make up for the cold. In the short amount of time that had passed, optimization had dropped to 66%.

The only positive was he’d somehow managed to relieve the blue tint in his face, and the repeated fits of sneezing had died down significantly now that he was surrounded by fresh air. If he was fortunate, that’s how it’d remain for the next several hours.

The Android climbs the front porch, then knocks at Hank’s door (always in threes). As usual, he’s first greeted by Sumo’s barking followed by the muffled sounds of Hank cursing out his unexpected (but still somehow predictable) return visitor.

“Goddammit, not today you walking nuisance!”

At least he knows it’s him.

“Apologies Lieutenant, but I’ve been given direct orders by Chief Fowler to come get you. He wants us to investigate another Deviant case immediately.”

There’s no response. Connor didn’t usually grovel, but he had work to do, and it was starting to get pretty cold out there in the rain.

“P-Please,” Connor pleads, unintentionally stuttering thanks to the shivers wracking his system. “You know I can’t do this without you, Lieutenant.”

There’s another pause of silence, only this time it’s followed by a characteristic groan and the sound of footsteps approaching the porch. Right on cue, Connor takes a step back just as Hank flings open the door and motions him inside.

“Get your ass in here and give me fifteen minutes, huh? I need to change and sober up a bit.”

Connor nods as he follows Hank inside, getting no more than a few feet into the living room before he’s bombarded by Sumo, who licks at his shins and threatens to knock him over given his massive size.

“Sumo down!” Hank orders as he heads towards his bedroom, though the friendly Saint Bernard pays his master no mind.

Connor giggles as he kneels to Sumo’s height and proceeds to pet behind his ears. “Good boy, Sumo,” he consoles. Freeing one hand, Connor fishes in his pockets until he comes across a particular texture, revealing a hidden stash of spare treats he carries solely for occasions like this. He palms the biscuits over for Sumo’s pleasure, and smiles fondly as the hound licks them from his grasp.

“You better not be feeding him again, Connor!” Hank calls from the other room.

“Of course not, sir!” Connor answers, cooing as Sumo’s tongue tickles his fingers. The more he visited Hank’s home, the more he looked forward to seeing Sumo’s goofy smile. He was starting to see why humans adored animals — especially good boys like Sumo.

“Riiiight,” Hank drawls in return. He’s been a detective for over 20 years, so why an Android attempted lying to him about his own dog, he seriously didn’t know. “Hey, Connor!”

“Yes, Lieutenant?”

“Remind me later to tell Fowler to kiss my ass next time he sends me out into the rain. Swear that fucker doesn’t ever need me until the weather is shit,” he adds beneath a grumble.

“Will do,” Connor answers, still mildly distracted by the fluffy lump of love curled by his feet.

After a few more minutes, Hank emerges from his bedroom, dressed in a darkened leather coat, distressed blue jeans, and boots well past their wear. It complimented his grizzled aesthetic, which Connor was starting to find charming the more time they spent together. Hank must catch the way he’s staring, because he furrows his brows and gnaws at his bottom lip; a habit indicating some level of self-consciousness.

“What? I got something on my face?” Hank asks. It wouldn’t be the first time he left the house with pizza stains and booze clinging to his beard.

“No,” Connor replies, frankly. “I like your outfit. You look handsome, Lieutenant.”

Hank looks more perturbed than complimented, but regardless he says nothing but “Christ” under his breath as he brushes past Connor and swipes his house keys off his computer desk. As he does, the faint blush of his cheeks are exposed by the soft glow of his laptop’s LED. Connor smiles, rising to his feet and reaching for the door handle. Swinging it open, he beckons for Hank to lead the way.

Hank obliges the kind offer, but halts midstep just as he’s about to pass the pseudo-doorman.

“What’s on your face?” he asks after glimpsing Connor up and down.

The Android shuffles in place. “I-I don’t know what you mean,” he answers somewhat meekly.

Hank doesn’t believe him for a second, that much was obvious with the way he stiffens his jaw and narrows his eyes. Still, he chooses not to elaborate, and simply relents to looking back at Sumo, who has sidled up against his leg as a goodbye gesture. Hank gives the pup one last parting pat on the head before stepping out into the morose outdoors.

“Hold down the fort, Sumo. This won’t take long,” Hank sighs. “I’m not wasting more than four hours out in this goddamn shit.”

He starts down the front steps while Connor turns to close the door behind them. As the Android does so however, a dreadfully familiar tickle takes him by surprise, gracing him with barely enough time to tuck his nose into his collar — a sloppy and hurried attempt to suppress a mini fit.

“iihH’MFFSH’ui! ih’zZSHH! dtsSH’yiew!”

He sniffles carefully as he rises from his jacket and shakes his head free of the bothersome itch.

“Connor! The Hell are you doing?” Hank calls from the sidewalk.

“Nothing; sorry! I'm coming, Lieutenant!”

Sumo whimpers at the Android and paws at his leg, as though he senses something is wrong with his second best friend. To relieve the dog’s distress, Connor cups Sumo’s chin and scratches it one last time.

“I’m alright, Sumo. Be a good boy, okay? I promise I’ll bring Hank back home soon.”

With that said, Connor closes the door, tugs the handle to make sure it’s locked, then races after his Lieutenant. As he closes in on his side, another alert crowds his interface, reading: Functionality: Moderately Impaired. Code: C5Y0091-39BC. Result: Bio-Component Defects And Malfunction. Risk Of Shut-Down: Low. Self-Repairs Update Ongoing. Time Remaining: 55 Hours, 50 Minutes, And 50 Seconds. System performance is being automatically monitored by and reported to CyberLife HQ.

He sniffs discreetly and steals a final pinch at his nose. For one of the few times since they’d met, Connor agreed with Hank completely.

Hopefully this is all over soon.

#snz #snzfic #snzblr #snz kink #d/etroit: b/ecome h/uman #co/nnor R/K800 #h/ank a/nderson #whump-ish #full-time lurker spotted

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adoriels-tears-if · 6 months

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Hi dears!

I've been quiet and you can't imagine how happy I am that October is finally over. I have nothing against the month in general, but this one has been particularly time-consuming for me. There have been a lot of changes at work and a lot of changes at home that have left me completely exhausted.

As a result, I'm way behind where I wanted to be when it came to finishing the Well Scene. In fact, I've only just managed to get there. I'm hoping November will be kinder to me, and I'm counting on the Nano I've just signed up for to help me catch up.

That's what I want for the next game update. Finish this scene and maybe take it a bit further.

I hope you'll excuse my inactivity. I'm always happy to answer any questions you might have, although I'll refrain from answering anything that might turn into a lengthy response (I'd rather concentrate on the game itself).

I hope you all had a great Halloween if you're celebrating it, and I'll see you again soon for the next update.

#adoriel'stears #Arielle rambles

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skylermadness · 6 months

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Hunter's Tales I: Bitten (Human TF/MC/AP/WG)

(Original Date of Upload: October 31, 2022)

Original Description:

Happy Halloween! I admittedly don't care a lot about this holiday. Personally I prefer the post-Halloween candy sales. But I do care enough to write something silly to commemorate the occasion! A few weeks ago someone asked if I liked werewolves or vampires more. Personally, I might like werewolves a bit more. I say this because I actually wrote this story out as part of a planned series I want to do featuring Argent and various monster hunting failures he endures. It likely won't be a very long series, nor a frequently updated one, but it's one I've been thinking of writing for a while now. Especially since I loved the idea of a werewolf TF but you're changing into the human form rather than the wolf one. Also just for everyone's information, fight scenes are fucking ass to write. I still don't think I did it that well, but I tried. Anyway, I hope people like this one! It is a bit different from my normal works.

Mission No° 479: October 31, 20XX

Target Name: Roland Forrester

Target Species: Lycanthrope

Hit Orderer: [REDACTED]

Reason for Hit: [REDACTED]

Agent On-Call: Agent No° 47 ~ Argent Chandler

Status of Mission: Unfulfilled

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

The night is moonless.

In the dead of this midnight a boot stamps on the ground of a muddy runway. Said runway is located within the bowels of a sprawling woodland. With the exception of the sounds of bootclad feet hitting mud, it is quiet.

Argent Chandler takes a deep breath as his eyes scan the site that lays in front of him. To a normal person they'd see a wooden cabin. Secluded and off the grid, in the middle of nature for none to disturb. With the exception of some creepy vibe to it, it seemed unsuspect.

Argent exhaled, nodding. This was the right place.

His trenchcoat swished behind him as he continued his trek down the runaway. Judging by the small pickup truck nearby he could tell his target was obviously located in this place. Although that wouldn't be very easy to tell by the fact that any lighting inside the cabin seemed inactive.

His trek easily shifted into a saunter once his now muddy boots reached the steps of the cabin. Each one creaked beneath his weight. Although at this point stealth was foregone a long time ago. Argent wasn't the kind of hunter that dealt in stealth, no. Especially since all his arsenal was silver. The creature within this dwelling likely smelled him before he was in a ten foot radius of this place.

It doesn't matter though. It never does. He always gets the job done and has been since employment. There's a reason he's considered the best hunter within his Guild.

Atop the stairs, he pulls out his gun and begins to twirl it in his hand. What would the number be now? Fourty? Forty five? At least half of those missions were probably some kind of therianthrope.

Wood continues to creak beneath him, Argent walking up to the door. The hunter stops carelessly twirling his weapon and extends his free hand to grasp the doorknob. After a cursory jiggle he finds it to be unlocked. With a nod, he confirms this to be a trap of some kind. Predictable.

Doesn't stop him from kicking the door open anyway, following it up by a gunshot to the ground in front of him.

"Let's see how your fragile ears handle that…" he whispers with a smirk on his face.

The cabin interior was dark, but was actually pretty nice looking. He presumed himself to be in the living room, considering the furnishment was a couch of some kind. His original perceptions of the place being off the grid was disregarded at the sight of an old-fashioned box TV cushioned in the corner of the room, but at this point he didn't really care. None of these creatures worked in covertness now, did they?

Another floorboard creaks, and mud begins to track into the place as he casually walks around. He holds an arm up, his gun in hand as he starts twirling it again. His other hand moves to the inside of his trenchcoat and slowly positions itself to one of his many daggers. There seems to be two major rooms he could enter. Left and right.

His gaze slowly moves rightward, and he is greeted with the sight of two beads of glowing yellow. No doubt the eyes of the very creature he came here to kill. But his ears then catch a sound. Wood creaking from the leftward room instead. Smiling, he turns around to locate the source. The place was small, there couldn't be any way for anything in here to hide efficiently.

He begins to walk to the room the sound was made in, his own steps being an obvious alert of his presence. "No use hiding, freak," he says aloud, voice filled with malice. Animosity. "We both know we're in here, so why don't you come out and…"

He stops twirling his gun right when it's upward and pulls the trigger, firing another bullet. He then finishes off his sentence with a smirk. "...play."

He doesn't get a response at first, silence filling the area in the seconds after he fired his second round. Face lacking all emotion now he continues to stand at the room's threshold. Cold, calculating.

Frontward attack, dagger thrust. Left arm disabled, forgo gun and try to utilize the other. Both arms disabled, go for a groin kick. Multiple plans fire off in his head as he awaits his prey.

What he didn't expect was the light in the room in front of him to turn on, revealing the room to be a kitchen. No one was visible within it for a couple moments, but then the sound of creaking wood pierced the air again.

"I really need to get these things replaced!" a second voice says casually, the person whom it belongs to walking into view on the other side of the threshold.

The being stood in front of Argent, smiling. The man looked to be in his mid thirties; rectangular face, scratchy beard, faint etchings of age beginning to crawl in his face. His hair was well kept with two lupine ears poking out of it. He also lacked a shirt, giving his musculature and hirsuteness visibility. Most of his hair, both head and body, was bordering between black and dark grey, although this was indubitably not because of age. The only clothing he wore was a baggy looking leather jacket and a torn pair of jeans. His tail swished behind his legs calmly. He was also barefoot as well.

Argent's first reaction was to reposition his gun to point at the man. Smirking, he's the first to engage. "I'm taking it you're Roland Forrester."

Roland nods, extending a hand and placing a finger on the bottom of the gun's barrel. "It seems you caught me red handed, Argent."

In an instant a simple finger quickly switches to the man's hand cupping the gun's barrel, Roland using his supernatural strength to squeeze it into uselessness. He grinned, baring his sharp teeth and growling. His irises began to glow a bright gold. "So, I heard you wanted to play."

Argent's mouth twists into a manic grin. He unhands the gun and begins to step back. "I see you're one of those kinds of fleabags…" He then moves the hand downwards and into his trenchcoat, grasping a second gun. "This'll be fun!"

And in that very instance, a fight breaks out between the two.

Argent is the first to break linearity as he repositions himself away from the front of the kitchen's threshold. Pouncing out the threshold was Roland, having shifted to wolf form in the past few seconds. Fangs bared, the creature turned its head to glare at Argent, its eyes filled with aggression.

It proceeds to pounce and Argent quickly moves out the way causing it to bang its head on the couch. As the wolf begins to reorientate itself, the hunter starts formulating a plan.

Six bullets, he needs to be sure he shoots to kill.

Room size is definitely an advantage. Perhaps he could… DAMN-

Caught off guard, Argent is pinned down by the lycanthrope. For a few seconds it growls, but Argent cuts it off by discharging his weapon. Its strength wavers for a moment as the noise of the firearm rings in its ears allowing Argent to give it a strong kick in the gut.

It unhands him and he rolls out from under it, quickly pushing himself upright. Stupid mistake, won't happen again.

The wolf quickly regains its bearings, although it's still noticeably in a daze. "Could've… gone for a finger there, hunter," it growls out.

"Could've gone for the neck as well, filth!" Argent dashes to the creature's side and pulls out a dagger from his trenchcoat, priming to hurl it into the abomination's leg. But just as he hurls it the wolf pounces out of the way and back into the kitchen, the dagger lodging itself into the floor instead. Positioning both hands on his gun, the hunter then moves back into the doorway's view and haphazardly fires into the room.

He misses.

Backing up a bit, Argent jumps over the couch beside him just as the werewolf pounces towards him again. The couch doesn't last very long though as the beast takes a moment to stand upright and hurl it to the other side of the room, which wasn't exactly very far.

Argent is quick to turn around, eyes widening as he realizes the chance he's given. He lifts the gun again and fires at the beast. Unfortunately, his trigger happy tendencies cause him to miss the chest and instead he hits the being in the shoulder.

It's still a win though as the creature backs away and forcibly deshifts back into its human form, holding a hand to where he was shot. The smell of blood and burning flesh begins to waft through the air as well.

"Nice aim." Roland seems to taunt Argent. In retaliation Argent fires another round, but Roland is quick to dodge. His dodge is sloppy though and he tramples into the adjacent room.

Argent's face shifts into one of annoyance and anger. He takes his other hand off the gun and rifles through his trenchcoat, pulling out a second (and his last) dagger. He then hurls it into the wall on a whim, hoping it'd be enough to perk up whatever instincts Roland had and force them to pounce prematurely.

It doesn't work.

At this point Argent is already tired of this bullshit. Usually his mission is complete by now and he's heading back home to clean off the stench of beast filth from his clothing. But no, for some reason he keeps missing his killing shots.

Two bullets. Two more chances.

…and why hasn't Roland left that room yet?

Argent slowly skulks into the open again, eyeing the room that Roland tripped into.

He can see Roland's glowing lupine eyes in the dark of the room. Cockiness overtakes Argent again as he presumed this would be his chance. Shooting the damned abomination square in the head!

Argent starts to walk towards the threshold quickly, arm outstretched and gun lined to fire directly at the werewolf's head. For once in his life he doesn't take the chance for a one-liner. He just pulls the trigger and…

…hears the sound of shattering glass.

"What the hell?"

Briskly, Argent walks into the room and investigates the scene. The very figure he shot at stands motionlessly, staring at him. Mocking him wordlessly. He goes to give it a good punch, but right as his hand meets its body he finds that it phases through the entity. The light of the room then turns on and Argent finds himself eye to eye with some kind of entity of shadows.

"...fuck," he mutters to himself. He's done for.

"You know…" Roland's voice begins to ring from behind him. The wolf man begins sauntering over to the hunter, prying the bullet out of his shoulder as he walks and disregarding it on the ground. "I'm going to have to reorganize this place again after this whole stunt. And blood is a bitch to clean…"

Argent turns around, but is barely given a chance to react as Roland seems to pin him in some kind of bear hug. The lycanthrope's superhuman strength constricts Argent.

The hunter tries one final measure. If he can at least escape, he won't have lost now. Would he? His finger twitches and one final bang blasts through the air, a bullet lodging into the ground beside him.

Roland didn't let go.

"That trick might have worked twice but I ain't one to get fooled more than that. Even if gunfire fuckin' hurts my ears."

Argent grunts. "Why not kill me already, bastard."

All he gets as a response is a smile from Roland before the older man instantly shifts into wolf form and picks the hunter up. The large beast lessens his constriction on Argent just enough to move him to a more comfortable position in his arm…

Then proceeds to throw Argent across the room.

Stings of pain run through Argent's body as the breath is knocked out of him, the man hurled straight into a wall. In contrast, his body collapses onto something soft.

A bed…

He shifts around, moaning out in pain as he forces his body to turn away from the wall. He tries to get himself upright, but can only shakily push himself up from the bed.

"I was hoping not to get any blood on the bed," Roland says, "but this will have to be how it's done unfortunately."

Argent is barely given any time to react. In the span of a single second he's pierced with a flash of pain as his right shoulder is given a single, gaping bite. His eyes roll upward as pain surges through his body, the only sight given to him being the visage of Roland's beastly form.

Roland is quick to disengage from the scene. Once Argent was adequately bit, the lycanthrope steps away and shifts back to his human form. "Good God the taste of blood is atrocious…"

Argent just huffs out a breath in pain as he rolls himself off the bed. It's a pitiful twenty seconds of pain and grunting, the hunter landing front first on the floor before he shakily stood up. "A-ahhh… but it's… not the full moon…"

"I know, but something a lot of hunters seem to neglect is how other moon phases seem to work." Roland walks towards Argent again, the hunter taking a step back. To Roland, he could smell fear from the once supposedly fearless hunter. "Magic isn't a very common practice in these parts, so I wouldn't say it's surprising your guild never taught you about it."

"It… it was a footnote- supposedly impossible to learn and function!"

"To the average human, yes. Most of what you call supernatural entities can learn it pretty well though. It's just not the most common practice." Roland snips his fingers and the shadow entity that stood at the adjacent wall of the room dispels revealing a shattered window.

Argent shakily tried to walk, but found the pain he was in a little too unbearable to move properly. He begins to tip over, but his fall is swiftly stopped by Roland.

"The wounds should shut pretty quickly."

"W… why are…"

"Don't think of this as some kind of 'I care about you' bullshit. Frankly, I'd have ripped you apart ages ago. But you hunters seem so easy to fool, and I was getting a little lonely out here."

Argent's mouth hung open. "E-excuse me?"

"Hey, magic can do a lot of shit! I thought 'why not use it and get myself a guy!' Admittedly, it took months of preparing and learning how to enact such a spell that'd be done through bitten transfer. And then there was…"

Argent pulled away. "What the hell are you talking about??"

Roland let out an exasperated sigh. "Yeah, I think I'm done with this." He walks away from Argent and leans on the opposing wall, golden eyes piercing into Argent's green ones. "I'm just going to forgo any explanation. You won't remember it anyway once the transformation starts."

At that very comment the pain in Argent's arm slowly begins to subside. Turning his head his eyes widened at the sight of his shoulder which was now visible through the rips in his clothing caused by Roland's bite. Blood was coagulating at a rapid pace, wounds quickly filling and scarring over.

"This… this can't be…"

It only took a few seconds before scars dispelled and healing on the surface finished. Pain continued to fade as the bones in his shoulder realigned and healed as well, the region quickly looking good as new. He then started feeling a warmth in both of his arms…

His hand trembles as he lifts it up into view, small spasms coursing through it. Watching fearfully, Argent witnesses his nails extend slightly into blunted points. They don't become claws, but there's a certain bestial tone to them. The back of his hand gains a similar tone as the smoothness of his skin begins to dissipate into a coarser look. Upon it sprouts deep brown hairs that trail across the back of his hand.

Flipping it over doesn't give him any respite either. The skin on his palms darken slightly, getting puffier and rougher. A hardness forms within them as well, caused by the formation of calluses. At the same time the size of his hand seems to increase as well. Fingers got thicker and fatter, the hand itself swelling in size as it got increasingly meatier.

His arms seemed to follow in an instant, Argent groaning as he started to feel his trenchcoat tighten around the limbs. "H-how-" he grunts out, feeling his muscle mass increase with each passing second. The rest of his clothing also felt like it was getting smaller as his entire body size seemed to fluctuate, although it was at a much slower rate than his sleeves.

"You wouldn't understand," Roland responds with a shake of his head. "All I will say is you aren't becoming a wolf yet. Just the man who contains it." Roland then smirks. "I also feel you'll grow to enjoy it~"

And Argent was indeed growing. His forearms thickened, bulk and muscle laying on them where such amounts of it wasn't there before. He could feel his bones creak and pressurize as they extended alongside them, shifting into a size better equipped to handle his inevitable new form. His biceps and triceps bloated as well, the ridges of their musculature steadily etching into the fabric of the sleeves of his hunting attire. His undershirt was growing uncomfortable at a rapid pace, and his trenchcoat was following that example.

Away from his eyesight beneath the stretching fabric came an additional swath of changes. Age creeping in his skin, hardening it and giving it an almost leathery texture to it. Arm hair grew plentiful on the back of his arms, starting off as a sparse growth before it blossomed into a thick forest of curly brown hairs. Grays also speckled these hairs, further showing his shift in age.

His muscles continue to balloon, rips beginning to form in his undershirt as things continue to process. He could hear a chorus of tears ring from the left half of his trenchcoat as well as his delts followed swiftly behind, broadening his shoulders to a thickness akin to that of his arms. The arm holes of his undercoat began to constrict as a result.

Aggression soon started to seep into Argent's emotions. He lifts up his head to look up at the creature that's done this to him. He shakily begins to try and walk over to Roland's position on the other side of the room, body trembling beneath its increasing weight both physically and emotionally. "Is this… vengeance?" he spits out, his breathing growing labored as the changes begin to enter his chest. The sound of one of the many belts surrounding his torso tightening, the metal creaking for a few seconds before snapping fills the air as Argent awaits a response.

"You could say that. It's less vengeance and more… vindication? Justice? The right words are so hard to find these days."

"Stop fucking dancing around the question and answer me you flearidden piece of-"

"See, there it is. You hunters seem to have this whole issue with us for… no good reason? I could never tell. Perhaps it's some underground war caused by predecessors long gone. I'm just trying to subdue that!" Roland stops leaning on the wall and takes a step forward. "Us so-called 'monsters' are people just like you. And yet, so many of you seem so… obsessed with wiping us out."

The sound of metal snapping as a second belt buckle on Argent's body breaks pierces the air.

"I hope that's not silver…" Roland says with a hint of concern.

Argent just growls as his balance finally destabilizes, the man stumbling sideways and banging his right arm on the wall. The meatiness of it mitigates whatever pain he would've gotten from it though. Even then, he's too focused on trying to breathe as he feels the belts and undercoat of his attire continue to constrict his body in what practically feels lethal.

The zipper of his undercoat begins to move downwards as his torso barrels forward. Thick muscle swelled it in size, mass filling them out as he was given hefty pectorals. However, their musculature seemed to fade almost instantaneously as a softness accumulated around them. A tear quickly formed in his undershirt as fat bubbled into existence in his torso. A thick bush of hair was also growing across the area as well, overtaking the skin as a coarse fluffiness sprouted across his chest.

The zipper of his undercoat continued to move downwards before it was stopped by his third belt, which was located on his abdominal. Both his third and his fourth belts were all that remained, stretching and attempting to contain his thickening form to the best of their ability. Argent began to slump, body sliding down the wall as his oxygen intake was beginning to seem insufficient to his body's needs.

Luckily, all of that was about to be alleviated.

The zipper was the first to break apart as his abdomen started swelling in size. Abdominal muscles were the first to form, rippling outsides and etching into the fabric and leather of his clothing. His frame even was broadened to accompany this, the fourth belt being the next to snap and fall away.

His belly then bubbled. Much like his torso, his stomach was gaining weight as well. Fat filled the area, his belly going from toned to pudgy in seconds, then pudgy to chubby. Fat continued to accumulate in the area, constantly filling his belly until it was given a sizable gut that shattered his third belt and completely broke the zipper of his undercoat. It continues to extend beyond that, his undershirt riding up his belly to reveal thick hair growing across it.

The button holding his pants together was the next to snap under the pressure of his belly. Argent, breathing heavily now as he looked down at it. He was trying to keep it together, but there was obviously fear in his eyes. He then noticed the floor starting to get further away from him, a chill entering his legs as his height seemed to begin to shift. This was accompanied by the feeling of pressure in his back and legs.

That feeling in his back only seemed to build up more and more. Constantly and feverishly, it felt like something was trying to bust out of the base of his spine.

"A tail…" he whispers, the pieces falling into place.

"Yup. I do suggest you lower the seat of your pants a little just to let the little thing flow out more freely." Roland nonchalantly advised, as if he's trying to help.

Argent begrudgingly accepts, shakily moving a hand to his behind and lowering his pants a little. The building pressure seems to subside as he feels a more slithery feeling then come from the base of his spine. He didn't want to watch, but he knew what it was. The tail extended from his rump, growing and expanding as short fluff and fuzz sprouted from the flesh. It continues to extend until it reaches the length to brush the crus of his leg. Shortly after that the fur bushes out, thick in fluffiness and dusty brown in color. A proper wolf's tail.

Argent's breathing slows, getting heavier and deeper. It was almost guttural. "What will you… gain from this…" he says between breaths. "Once this is over I could still kill you where you stand!"

"Could, but not would." Roland says coyly, laying back on the wall he stood in front of. "There's a few things that still need to be put in still, but I think you'll be reconsidering those thoughts."

"Shut up!" Argent yells, his voice noticeably deeper and more bestial. He momentarily regains the strength to heave himself from the wall and move forward a few steps, but his new weight throws him off balance again and he quickly stumbles to the other end of the room. He's prompted to hold the sill of the window he shot through.

The sleeves of his trenchcoat finally break apart as his skin begins to show, and his chest continues to gain visibility as his body continues to bloat and fatten. It seems to slow, though, as if it were finally reaching its apex. Thick hair carpets his chest even more, an almost furry look seeming to envelope it as brown and grays spiral around the region. It looked to be even thicker than what Roland possessed.

He tries to readjust his legs, his pants tightening even more as the muscles within that area begin to bulk up as well. The seat of his pants filled out more and more, his rump plumping as fat filled it out. It was becoming big, round, and squishy. The expansion of his rear got to a point that the seat of his pants split rather quickly, his underwear struggling to stretch themselves over his buttocks.

At the same time the seams of the sides of his pants started to tear apart, his thigh muscles swelling in size. Quads and hamstrings working out in tandem, thickening and bloating with increasing muscle mass. A softness rounded out the ridges as fat accumulation soon followed. And much like his arms, the bones in his legs shifted structure, lengthening and strengthening in order to support his weight better.

Similar changes were being mirrored beneath his knees, his calves growing larger and pushing up against the leather of his boots. Their swelling pulled against the strings of his footwear, pulling at them and effortlessly snapping them. Thick hairs also grew plentiful around his legs as well.

His boots were already pretty tight but as the final swath of changes reached his feet his footwear was pushed to its limit. The toecaps bulged, his toes pushing up to them as his feet grew even larger. He could feel pressure in his nails, no doubt them gaining the same dull claw feature as his fingernails. His soles itched, hardening with calluses and etching with scars. It wasn't long before his boots finally gave way, feet bursting out of them, crawling out the fractured brown leather and feeling the chill of the air. Dense, curly hairs grew upon the back of his feet as well.

The remains of his boots easily slipped off as Argent started stumbling around again. He wasn't acclimated to this weight, this size. His pants tore against his moving legs, the sleeves of his shirt tearing apart as well. His uniform was in tatters at this point.

His footsteps are heavy on the wooden floorboards of the bedroom. His mind races as he begins to realize only one part of his body is left unchanged. His head…

"Here…" Roland says as he walks towards the worried hunter. Sharpening his claws, he grips onto Argent's undershirt and tears off a large chunk of it. He does the same to the hunter's overcoat, but leaves the trenchcoat on. "Consider this an exoneration of your sins, best hunter of the guild."

Now Argent's newly formed, hairy chest and belly were mostly visible to the world. "That's a body I like…" Roland whispers lustfully.

Argent lets out a shuddered breath, but tries to put up a front. "B… big mistake…"

"I think the only one who's made a mistake here is you." Now Roland is the one with the cocky smile. Despite Argent's new height, towering over Roland by a little less than a foot, Roland doesn't seem to care. He doesn't seem to care that Argent could go toe to toe with him on equal footing. He doesn't care about anything at all. Instead, he embraces Argent in a hug, nestling his head into the hunter's burly chest.

"Wh- what the fuck are you doing-" Argent says with a literal growl escaping his throat.

Roland only gives him a single response. "Your voice is so deep. So sexy…"

Argent's chest warmed at the… the compliment? What the…

One of Roland's hands starts to slip downward, trailing down the larger man's spine. It's soft. It's sensual. It's…

"Your heart is beating faster," Roland starts. "I can smell it off you as well. You can sense it too, yeah?"

Argent just swallowed a lump in his throat. "I… I…"

Roland's hand then dashes upwards and onto Argent's head. He begins to ruffle the man's hair. "Why don't we speed this up. Go on, hunter. Give in. Well, you won't be a hunter anymore after this…"

Argent shuddered, but he was finding it hard to be afraid. He doesn't want to admit it, but he's… enjoying it. "Nngh, must… resist…"

It became hard to do so, though. Argent's ears started to sharpen to a point, shifting in structure to become more triangular. Lupine. They pulled upwards and after a few seconds sat atop his head. Brown fur practically covered them in an instant after that. Roland then repositioned his hand and… started scratching behind one.

"You love this, don't you Bertie…"

"Mmph… yeah…" Argent's cheeks flushed. "W-wait, no… can't… nngh…"

"Stop resisting," Roland uses his strength to grip Argent's body closer. His head positions itself to look at Argent's face. "Don't you feel it? Everything finally kicking into gear?"

Argent's face itched, and from this itch came longer stubble. His previously light stubble grew longer, curling in on itself and getting denser. Thick hairs grew into a mustache above his lip. Thicker hairs conglomerated into a beard. Even after forming a beard it seemed to get thicker, denser, longer and fluffier. It has the same fur-like density as his chest hair, it had the same coloration and scale of grayness to it. It was a beard that felt so… so fluffy…

"My… head's hurtin'..." Argent says. His voice seems to lower more, a husky tone gaining prominence than it did before. Roland then stops scratching his ear in order to reposition the hand under his chin and scratches that instead, stimulating the beard fur and his mind.

"A good scratch always makes you feel better, Bertie." Roland's voice seems so filled with fondness.

"That's not my…"

"Oh but it is," Roland interrupts. "Bertolf Forrester."

Argent's head slumps at the sound of the name. It sounds so… good. Proper. Correct.

His head starts to restructure, face growing wider and rounder, cheeks filling with fat as it becomes squishier. His nostrils flare up as his nose expands, rounding out. His youthfulness also starts draining, skin gaining age as it gets rougher and older. Signs of aging crept besides his eyes and mouth, circulating around his face. His eyebrows become thicker. His eyes become a little wider. He goes from looking like a cocky young adult to a friendly older man.

His age has been shot up; twenties, thirties, fourties. His face, his body, settles at being in his early fifties with small amounts of gray etching into the hair on his head. As for the remainder of the hair on his head; the dirty blonde changes shade into a deep brown. The fringe style of it shortens, follicles twisting as it becomes a shorter, curlier style.

"K…keep goin'..." the now older man whispers, almost pleasured by this.

"Feeling any better, Bertie?"

"I…" Argent squeezes his eyes. "I can't… I need to…"

In a second the positions of Roland's hands switch. One remains around the body of Argent, but the other switches back to behind him and moves downwards to his butt. Roland then gives it a firm squeeze. "Let. It. All. Go."

Argent begins to slump, something possessing him as his back arches and his face grows closer to Roland's. Resistance is getting harder. That urge to give in increases with each act Roland does to him. He wants to hate the werewolf but something in his mind was preventing him. He's getting filled with affection for Roland. To…

A part of him tries to escape one final time. A futile attempt to pull away, but he finds himself confused. He finds his entire sense of self confused. Why is he… why is he so afraid? Why doesn't he want to give in? What stops him from giving in?

Something shifts within him. He begins to move closer, his fears subsiding rapidly. Technically, his whole identity subsides. Years of hunting and killing unjustly. Years of satisfaction at the sight of bloodshed. They are washed out of his mind in an instant. The only hunting he seems to care about is going out into the forest and looking for a good deer to slay.

His eyes snap away from Roland's, he looks to where his… weapon was meant to be. He doesn't know what to expect, but he finds a weird conglomeration of wood and metal that seems to be growing larger. It looked less like whatever it used to be. It looked like an axe.

Something on his body shifts as well. Tightness alleviating, material getting slightly more comfortable. He doesn't look, but part of him knows what's happening.

The bottom of his trenchcoat slinked upwards until it nestled at his hips. The buttons of it shifted from metal to plastic, growing slightly smaller. The material softens, thinning out into something more cottony and casual. Then there's the coloration, dull brown becoming a red, gaining a pattern as bold red lines of various shades criss-crossed around the new material giving it a plaid look. The trenchcoat's collar shrinks as it's lapel dissipates, and the collar itself folds downwards into a different kind of collar. He can feel shreds of clothing slink away from his arms as well, his new flannel being given a torn sleeve look.

His pants are the only other article of clothing that shifts. Size altering to fit his new meaty legs, deep brown shifting into a dark blue. The material hardened as it altered, becoming denim as multiple pockets seemed to fade into the material with only two front pockets and two back ones staying. The bottoms of the new jeans wear and shred, the denim clearly having gone through many arduous experiences. All that remains is a belt, one of the only ones that remained on his body slithering around it and nestling around the loops of his jeans. It remains unbuckled, and the jeans unbuttoned.

Shreds of his former clothing still do remain, though, but all of the significance of them fades. All Argent can think of is Roland, love welling up within the man.

Roland uncups the man's butt and lifts his hand to the back of Argent's head. "Let's finish this…" he says with a smirk as he begins to lower Argent's head to his own. After a few seconds of leaning in…

Their lips finally touch.

Bertolf's eyes flitter as his head is filled with memories. New information was given to him at a rapid, near instantaneous pace. His life as a lycanthrope, his job as a lumberjack. Everything associated with that as fifty two years of information was shoved into his mind. His personality was altered, his emotions were altered. Everything was becoming this new being, the former monster hunter being erased completely from the mind of this man. This continues for a minute. And in that minute, everything is set in stone within Bertolf.

They then break away, both participants breathing heavily.

Bertolf takes a few moments to take everything in, but once he comes to his senses he speaks. "Wh… what was I talkin' 'bout again?"

Roland shrugs. "I don't think it'll matter."

Bertolf tilts his head, a brow raising, but doesn't question it. With a deep laugh he says, "Can't even remember what we were doing!"

He then takes a few steps back and looks around. "The heck happen to the window? And why do I smell… silver…"

Roland just walks closer to him. "While you were out I had a little skirmish with an intruder. They were dealt with rather quickly, though…"

Bertolf eyes Roland. "Rolly, please don' tell me ya' killed 'em."

Roland rolled his eyes. "No, no! Just gave him a good bite. You know I hate the taste of human blood anyway."

"Yuh, yuh, you always say that. Good thing it ain't a full moon or you woulda made a powerful new enemy, heh."

Roland just nods before his stomach growls. One of Bertolf's ears flick at the sound, the man smiling. "Ough, guess someone's hungry!"

"Yup."

"Then I'll start preppin' dinner! Should have some leftover deer meat in the freezer."

"Heh, you always make the best deer, Bertie."

"Awh, thank ya!"

Bertolf takes a few steps, but stops when he notices his trusty axe on the ground. He picks it up and eyes it, sniffing an unfamiliar smell from it. "That guy who snuck in here tried to use this as well, huh?"

Roland took a few seconds to come up with a response. "Yyyep. Shot- I mean, sliced my arm pretty good."

Bertolf questions the legitimacy for a moment, noticing the lack of blood on the axe's blade, but chooses to ignore it. Turning around he heaves the axe onto his shoulder and smiles. "I'll find a better place to put this then. For now though: deer!"

The older man then leaves the bedroom, ideas running around for how to prep dinner. Roland can hear an exasperated sigh as his husband enters the living room, presumably noticing the mess he made in there earlier. With a soft chuckle he says something before Bertolf could comment. "Sorry about the living room by the way! Things got feisty."

"And I thought it was only us who got feisty in here!" Bertolf yells back, then follows up his comment with a deep laugh. It fills Roland with warmth. Amorous warmth.

Tenseness drains from him as he truly calms down. He looks around at the bedroom. Glass shards strewn across the floor, blood pooling near and on the bed. Both are going to be bitches to clean.

He then eyes a single hole on the floor, nose scrunching up as he smells the atrocious odor of silver. He walks over it and bends down, unsheathing his claws and digging them into the hole. He pulls out a single silver bullet.

"We both took a gamble here. Seems like you were the one that lost."

He stands back up and begins to saunter towards the door threshold. He deposits the bullet in one of the few things that remained upright in the room, a small trash can beside the doorway, and then walks out.

His plan was successful. It likely won't be one that would be repeatable, but it was successful nonetheless. He managed to take down one of the most prolific hunters in the guild. The very thought made him shiver with pride. Spells like the one he used were always unpredictable, and that was if they even worked. He's not sure what he expected as a result, but a new husband was at the very least a desirable option.

He peers into the kitchen, his golden eyes watching Bertolf pull a slab of deer meat out the freezer and stare at it in thought. The man was ignorant of who he was. Who his ideals used to be. Who his allegiance used to be to.

Was this result too much of a reward for the acts he committed? Maybe it was. But does it matter? Argent Chandler is just a faded entity now. Gone from this world. In his stead was someone better. Someone loving, someone caring.

Roland inhales, then exhales. Then smiles. Loneliness is long forgotten now. He has someone he loves, and someone who loves him back, and…

And there was no taking that from him now.

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

Mission No° 479: October 31, 20XX

Target Name: Roland Forrester

Agent On-Call: Agent No° 47 ~ Argent Chandler

Status of Mission: Unfulfilled [ICED]

Date of Icing: December 1, 20XX

Reason of Icing: Agent No° 47 (Argent Chandler) was dispatched to take out the target at roughly 11pm on the date shown. His last message to any other agent was at 11:32pm. Since then he has gone missing for roughly a month. Agent No° 52 (Mariana Gigan) was dispatched to the location fifteen days after Agent No° 47's disappearance with the intent to locate a possible body. All she found was a cabin with two noticeable lycanthrope members. She did not engage and instead left unnoticed.

It should be noted that the cabin was stated to only have one inhabitant until fairly recently. We theorize that the original lycanthrope in question (Roland Forrester) managed to conduct a turning that seemed to shift Agent No° 47 in a different manner than usual. We are unsure how such an occurrence could happen, nor do we wish to investigate it unless we are prompted to by an orderer. As a result this case is now iced and will not be reopened further_

#character tf #transformation #human tf #bara tf #weight gain tf #male transformation #tf

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