#So I'll be purposefully leaving them out
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alright brainworms haver . can i hear about prime bros :]c
Hohoho, so since this is as broad of a prompt as I could've been given I've decided I will now proceed to uncontrollably ramble for half a thousand words about the relationships and their slow building!!
As established, Nine is an invasive brain fungus that has replaced my thinking organ entirely so it's all from his perspective.
While he's...not mad about his current living situation (he enjoys not being unceremoniously erased from existance, thank you very much) he's also not exactly thrilled either. With everything that recently happened (whatever the hell will that be in season 3), he's not in the best place mentally and most of the time would prefer to just dig himself a hole and hide in it until he feels better (might or might not have done that once already)
But no matter how alright he thinks he's in a current moment, having to interact with either Tails or Sonic (Chaos forbid if they're both in the same room) he's automatically and always on the defensive.
Nine may or may not have tried to and almost ended up killing Sonic, so there's everpresent guilt regarding that. And it flares up pretty bad whenever the hedgehog shows him even the tiniest bit of unconditional love because what the fuck, he doesnt seserve any of that after all the prblems he's caused, stop that.
He's, unsurprisingly, also not the biggest fan of Tails. The fox being a reminder of everything that's presumably wrong with him as well as the general jelaousy of his overal much healthier presentation, Nine does not enjoy having him around. So he also may or may not have tried to kill Tails as well after all of his pent-up emotion resulted in blind action. (and Nine got his ass handed back to him pretty badly actually, he didnt think the other would stand a chance and yet.)
The whole debacle silently blew over eventually and after a lot, and I mean a lot of time the two began to see eye to eye, or rather, Nine let that be the case. Realizing that being able to technobable around each other and compete in the field only the two of them are highly competent in is very welcomed form of enrichment.
Sails is a mixed bag because at first Nine absolutely despised his high energy and annoying fight-picking attitude. Also the accent, the goddamn accent (Duke of Soleana fandub voice: I can't fucking understand you) but while everyone else walks on eggshells around Nine, Sails has a habit of uh, pretty bluntly saying things to his face. Which usually manages to snap Nine back to his senses and also giving him a necessary vibe check from time to time. So Nine might not say it ever, but he ends up being grateful for the pirate.
And on Mangey, he didn't have any strong opinions besides being glad he's not another over-the-top smart-ass or insufferable quipper. Letting him do whatever, because Nine couldn't care less honestly, unknowingly endeared the other fox to him. Aaand than Nine had a panic attack around the time he attempted to put Tails 6ft below the ground in the middle of the night and Mangey, being the lightest sleeper of them for now, broke into Nine's room and calmed him down (you should check out my head, there's a really banger fic about this in there) Mangey is also the only one that doesn't evoke the need for Nine to prove himself while in his presence, so most of the time they just end up silently vibing together.
Also a song I found buried in my 8 years old playlist me thinks sums up the first couple of weeks pretty well (its not a rickroll dw/srs)
#sonic prime#prime bros#As for the logistics and explanation of their shared existence?#eeeh I have some ideas but they're probably way too shallow and fall apart under the smallest bit of logical thought#So I'll be purposefully leaving them out#Maybe s3 will give me a better idea#thanks for making me put these things into words#miles nine prower#nine the fox#sonic the hedgehog#sonic#miles tails prower#tails the fox#sails tails#sails the fox#mangey tails#mangey the fox#silly brainworms
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Hey. RTD2. If you're playing some sort of long game with this whole not even mentioning the existence of Martha Jones thing as a way to throw us off the scent of a possible appearance from her later in season "1" or "2" of this era...
Nah. I can't even begin to let myself hope it will happen.
#dw spoilers#doctor who spoilers#doctor who#martha jones#i was gonna say he's on thin ice but nah boy is underwater with me#i'll still be tuning in. for Ncuti Gatwa. i've currently lost the bit of hope i had in RTD2's era though.#because so much of what i predicted would happen in the handling of Fifteen came true. and then top it off with Martha.#but i let some hope grow during Wild Blue Yonder. because i was enjoying it. a lot.#but we've really gotten off on the wrong foot. making Fifteen really have to share being the Doctor.#and Fourteen's face as Ten traveled with 3 companions. 4 if you count Sarah Jane. 5 if you count River.#and you mention all of them. besides Martha.#not even a joke of 'hey well Martha got out.' to the Toymaster in retaliation for all the dead companions#the Fam and Dan were left out too. but they all survived relatively unscathed. and none of them traveled with Ten.#you have Tennant's face. you mention all of Ten's other companions. you leave out. Martha Jones.#will he gain it back? hopefully. but dude. you do a 6oth anniversary special. you bring back Tennant for the THIRD time.#you leave out Martha Jones. almost purposefully. not even Mel or Kate saying 'lots of companions worked for us. like Martha.'#SIMPLE. JUST NAME DROP HER. SOMEWHERE. ANYWHERE. AT ANYTIME. JUST ACKNOWLEDGE SHE EXISTED.#all those 'ah your old face' 'look same face' 'i got this face back' comments. no mention of someone the face traveled with.#i'm upset
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#when they now purposefully leave you out#avoiding mentioning where everyone is hanging out and how they have somewhere to go that night when it's just the mall and they dont want u#when you end up going there with another friend and run into one of them revealing everything#then later they post photos together and dont even hide it cause it's over and done with#really seeing my real friends#I wonder if they were all in on it or one of them lied#So funny to me#once I'm done helping them with everything#the only time they will see me is for work and that's it#I know my worth and I wnt let them continously do this t me#gthey can hang with me for clubs and and work#anything else? I'll be with people who care abut me#even if that leaves me alone
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dark!stepbrother!ethan where he’s absolutely obsessed with the reader and he borrows her computer and finds out that she was watching some kinky shit (like i mean kinky) and then he makes a move on her and smut from there!! also pls make him really dominant if possible. thank you <3
Good Girl For You
pairing: dark!stepbrother!ethan landry, AFAB!reader
contains: non-gf!au, smut (mdni), unprotected p in v, cream pie, oral (m receiving), face-fucking, choking, overstimulation, stepcest. Lmk if I missed any
an: lmk if you wanna be in the taglist
Ever since you were little, it's just been you and your mom.
She never had boyfriends, and you were an only child, so you had grown up to be protective over your mom.
That is until Wayne, your step-dad, came into your life. He had 3 kids: Richie, Quinn, and Ethan. Richie was grown, so he didn't live with you guys, but Ethan and Quinn did.
Quinn was super nice. She was the sister you never had. Both of the siblings being a year older, you were now the youngest.
Ethan, however, was a pain in the ass.
He was such a dick. He would always taunt and tease you, taking your stuff without asking, and even invading your privacy. He was such a douche but god, he was so cute.
You couldn't deny it, Ethan was hot. Especially when he walked around in those gray sweatpants
He knew that you were looking at him, and he loved it. He wore those gray sweatpants on purpose when he was hard, just so he could walk in front of your room when the door was open so he could catch you staring, not to mention he would purposefully tip something over or drop something just so he could look at you bent over.
And to his luck, both of your parents were out that day. Unfortunately, Quinn was there, but hopefully, she wasn't a snitch.
"Hey Y/N," Ethan leaned against the doorway sluggishly. "Can I borrow your laptop?"
"Why?" You shifted in your seat so you could peer at him. And, of course, he was wearing those godforsaken sweatpants.
"I need it for something. Are you gonna let me use it or not?" He cocked a brow.
"For what? Porn?" You scoffed.
He rolled his eyes and stuck his hand out expectantly. "Well?"
You handed your computer to him with a sigh and settled back in bed, seemingly bothered by his presence.
It was only minutes after he had been in his room before your stomach wrenched, and your heart sank.
'shit, shit, shit,' you thought as you raced to his door. You had forgotten to close your tabs from the previous night.
"Ethan, I need my computer real quick. Just really fast, I'll be two seconds," you beat on his door and jiggled the knob that wouldn't turn.
He unlocked his door and handed it to you with a smug grin. Oh he definitely saw it.
"I'm sorry you had to see that, that wasn't meant for you," you whispered embarrassingly as you tried to take the computer from him, but he waved it higher than your reach.
"Nuhuh, I think you did it on purpose," he smirked. "Leaving your porn tabs open for me?" He tsked. "You're smarter than I thought you were Y/N."
"No, Ethan, it wasn't meant for you to see, I forgot to close them and i-"
"Oh you’re such a liar.” You could hear the smirk in his voice. “You're such a smart girl, I dont believe you could be so careless,” Your breath got heavier at his accusation.
Your eyebrows lifted in surprise. You really hadn't done it on purpose, but it didn't seem like such a bad idea.
He yanked you in his room and closed the door, pressing you against it as he held his knee between your legs, applying pressure to your increasingly aching cunt.
“You know, I wouldn’t have guessed you’d be into that sort of stuff. Always get so nervous when someone flirts with you, always get so flustered when people touch each other in a movie.”
He was ignoring your request completely. “But it makes sense now, you get all shy cause you like it.”
Your eyes widen, and you squirm in his arms, not exactly trying to get away. not really trying to get away at all, actually.
"Wonder how many times I’ve been sitting with you on the couch while your cunt gets all wet." Your body is frozen in embarrassment, it’s kinda hot. 'God. Don’t think like that Jesus'
"Yet you aren’t trying to stop me, are you?" His voice is so completely self-assured and cocky. Asshole.
It made you so wet. You aren’t trying to stop him. You don’t want him to stop, even though you should.
He pulls his hands back a little for you so that if you want to get out, you can. Without as much internal protest as you’d hoped, you stay completely still.
"See, I was right. You are just a little slut who wants to get touched by her stepbrother." You visibly cringe at that but feel slick spill into your panties at his words.
He roams his hands down until one stops directly above your waistline.
"Ethan," you said warningly. "Stop.."
“Oh but why? It feels like you like it when I talk to you like that. I mean… given the videos you were watching, I bet you like it.” You pushed up against him. You just want him closer, it doesn’t matter if it’s wrong. He knew what he was doing, making you feel small, degrading you. “You do like it, fuck.” He started grinding himself against your thigh. You did like it, you wanted him to keep going, keep making you feel small.
"Y'know, I've imagined touching you like this so many times. Every time you act like a brat or roll your eyes at me, all I wanna do is back you up against the counter and make you melt for me," he smirks.
"I thought you said you didn't think I'd be into this stuff."
“You can be into anything I want you to in my fantasies.” His other hand snakes up to start running his thumb up and down the column of your throat.
This really should not have such an effect on you, but it does. Your eyes flutter, and you let out a soft, needy breath as you lay your head back against him.
“Oh you like that? You like that I just imagine you in any position I want?” You nod your head reluctantly. Your lips open and close, but no sound comes out.
He’s barely even touched you, but it feels like your tongue is twisted up in your mouth. You can feel your resolve just slipping away the more he speaks to you, the more he touches you.
“Fuck,” his hand slide up your neck and went to the back of your head. “I know you do. Now get on your knees.”
His hand tangled in your hair right up against your scalp, and he tightened his grip a little, pulling your head back ever so slightly in the process.
The way he was talking to you, how he was treating you, all like you were just some object for his pleasure… fuck, it made you wet.
If this situation could possibly get any worse from you guys just doing anything at all in the first place, getting turned on from your stepbrother degrading and objectifying you would definitely make it worse.
You moaned softly when he pulled your hair as you started to kneel down in front of him slowly, struggling to resist the urge of responding ‘yes, sir.’ When your knees were on the ground and you finally stopped shifting around to get as comfortable as possible, you finally realized the position you were in.
You were about to suck your step-brothers cock.
But at this point, all thought or consideration of morality and shame had long been lost on you. Instead, the lewdness of the situation only fueled the fire, and part of you was just getting off on how wrong this was.
You felt filthy and all it did was make you want to continue. ‘Shit, what the hell is wrong with me?’, would be what you’d typically be thinking. And you were, just less in a self-deprecating way and more in a self-humiliation way.
You bite your lip at the site in front of you, Ethan’s clothed hard cock in his gray sweatpants. He had noticed how fixated you were and tilted his head at you with a smirk.
“You want it?” You just stared up at him and moved your hands up to his thighs as you slid them up. “I asked you a question, answer me.” He pulled your hair a little harder this time, and you moaned a little louder.
"Yes, I want it," you answered. You felt as though your brain had formed into mush. You hadn't even registered his question as a question when he asked. You just knew you wanted to touch him.
“awe, you do?” He mocks your voice and pouts his lip before scoffing and leaning down ever so slightly. His thumb caressing your neck.
“Don’t worry, im gonna fuck this little throat of yours.” You shudder a little before just nodding your head and opening your mouth.
You loll your tongue out, and he grins. “Yeah, stay like that.” He slaps his heavy tip on your tongue, and you can taste the bitterness of his pre-cum.
“Open wider.” You obey him and open your mouth further. He leans forward and spits in your mouth. Your eyes flutter, and you press your thighs together, which doesn’t go unnoticed.
“You like that?” He laughs and rubs one of his fingers over your tongue. “You like it when I spit in your mouth? Fucking disgusting.”
He grips his cock and guides it onto your tongue before pushing into your mouth. He groans and holds your head back against the side of his bed before he starts thrusting into your mouth.
“Mmm, fuck. Such a good girl." He rutted into your throat, tilting his head back as his tip abused the back of your throat.
"What would your friends say if they knew you’re getting face fucked by your stepbrother, and loving it so much you’re practically dripping onto the floor? What would your mom say?” You really didn’t wanna think about his second question.
“Mmm.” You just hum around his cock in response and he smirked. It’s not like you could actually respond.
You kept your eyes on him, loving the way his jaw tightened when he hit the back of your throat. Or the way the muscles in his arms would twitch and flex under his tight shirt. He was right, you did love this and you could feel the discomfort of your sticky panties between your thighs, damp and uncomfortable.
His hand went to the top of your head to grip your hair between his fingers and he started pushing in faster.
“Yea? I’m gonna paint your pretty little throat and you’re going To .Take. Every. Ounce.” With each word he slammed his tip in the back of your throat.
“I’m gonna cum down this slutty throat and you’re gonna swallow it all and thank me.” His face and neck were a little red and he had this sheen of sweat that the light from his lamp bounced off of.
He looked like some kind of angel and if he wasn’t aggressively fucking your face you might’ve actually believed he was.
“Fuck, oh take it.” He moaned and pushed his cock to the back of your throat.
“Mmh, oh fuck… love sucking on your big brothers cock, yeah? Such a fucking cockwhore it doesn’t matter who it’s from.”
He was thrusting at a fervent pace, and it was evident he was just chasing his own high. Using your mouth as his personal fleshlight to fuck and fill.
It was hot being treated like this, especially by Ethan. He tightened his hold on your hair and pushed in a little too far which made you choke. It made slick pour into the gusset of your panties.
Fuck, he was right. You’re a total slut. Your hands went up to hold onto his thighs for support as your eyes closed. Spit drooled down your chin and onto your chest, tears poured down your cheeks which Ethan took pleasure in wiping away.
“Maybe you’ll let me fuck that pretty pussy. Bet she’s just crying for me.” ‘Next time?’ The thought made your skin burn with arousal. “Think you’re gonna let me fill up all your holes. Fuck. Yeah, I wanna see that. My obedient little stepsister leaking cum onto my bed, absolutely spent. Such a fucking whore you’d probably ask me to do it again. Fuck your little pussy till it’s sloppy and bred.”
His hips stuttered, indicating he was close to release as be fucked your throat mercilessly.
He rutted his tip right against the back of your throat while he moaned and mumbled. “Good girl, good girl. Take it, baby.”
spurts of cum painted your throat as his thrusts grew weaker.
He pulled back out of your mouth and looked down at you while he stroked himself a few times to make sure he was done. A little bit of cum spilled from his tip and onto your thigh.
You could finally swallow now that he was out of your mouth, and god, it felt good. You opened your mouth to show him that you really did it.
He panted lifted you up, wiping cum and saliva off your chin.
"You're so pretty like this. You're making me hard again," he smirked, crawling on top of you.
He gripped your thighs, spreading them so he could position himself at your entrance.
"You want it? You want me deep inside you?" He whispered in your ear, teasingly as you could hear the smirk in his voice.
"Yes," you whimpered, peering at how absolutely amazing his cock looked. You imagined it deep inside you, fucking you better than you could take.
"Tell me how much you want it."
"So bad," you whined, tilting your hips up to feel a sense of relief in your desperate center, but be pulled back with a smug grin.
"Oh, I bet you do, because you're such a slut, aren't you? Such a slut for your stepbrother," he hissed when he slid his cock inside your walls, your wetness not making it difficult at all for him.
"Yes," you moaned out, thanking your lucky stars that he was inside you. God, you felt so dirty. He was your stepbrother, but it just made it that more hot.
"So tight," he groans as his hips rutted into yours, a moan slipping from your lips.
His hand wraps around your throat, barely squeezing but enough to where you swore you could've came just from the feeling of his hands choking you.
"Such a slut, so wet for me. For your stepbrother." He groaned, and he repeatedly slammed into that sweat spot, causing a loud moan to emerge.
"As much as I love you moaning for me, you have to keep quiet," he said as he clamped a hand over your mouth, making sure to leave your nose unblocked so you could breathe. "We'll get caught if you're too loud."
"Y/N?" Quinn knocked on the door. You froze, but Ethan continued fucking you, hitting your sweet spot with every thrust.
He removed his hand from your mouth and smirked.
"Yeah?" You called out, praying to whatever was out there that you wouldn't moan.
"Why's the door locked?" She jiggled the knob, but it wouldn't open.
"Um, just having some alone time. What do you.." Your eyes rolled back as his pace sped up. You bit your lip so hard you were afraid it might bleed. "What do you need?"
"Just checking on you. I thought I heard some noises," she said skeptically as she pressed her ear against the door only to be met with quiet creaks from the bed. "What are you doing?"
"I'm not doing anything," you replied quickly as Ethan bit down on your shoulder.
Ethan's pace sped up as he repeatedly slammed into you, the knot in your stomach tightening.
"Y/N, are you listening?" Quinn asked, obviously annoyed.
You must've missed something, accidentally drowned something out while Ethan was fucking you so good.
"S-Sorry, its kinda hard to... to focus when I'm watching something," you stammered, the knot in your stomach so close to snapping.
"Or when your stepbrother is deep inside you," Ethan whispered, practically destroying your pussy while you tried your best to keep quiet.
A silent moan escaped your lips, and you froze, terrified she heard it.
"What was that?" Quinn asked, her eyebrows raised even though you couldn't see her.
"What was what?" Your eyes rolled deep into your skull, legs trembling as you got closer and closer to your orgasm.
"Never mind, I'll leave you alone," Quinn said before walking away.
You let out a sigh of relief when you heard her bedroom door shut.
"Fuck, you did so good, keeping quiet for me," he groaned and his hips stuttered and his thrusts became harsher and quicker.
"Oh my god, m'gonna cum," you moaned, feeling helpless as Ethan fucked you mercilessly, his cock hitting all the right places inside you.
"Not yet," his grip around your throat tightened as he thrusted into you, obviously chasing his own high. "You'll cum when I say so."
You whined in protest, but it was no use. He had complete control over you. You would bend over backward just for his satisfaction.
"Please, please, please, please! I can't hold it, I need to cum," you whined, bucking your hips to the rhythm of his thrusts as you chased your high.
"Good girl," he smirked, biting his lip as he got closer to his own climax. "Cum for me."
You weren't sure if you came because he gave you permission or he just happened to allow you when you couldn't hold back anymore, because you came before he finished his sentence.
Your entire body shook as your orgasm ripped through you, but he wasn't finished yet.
"Fuck, you're so pretty when you cum," he hissed as he fucked you through your orgasm. The overtimulation was too much. You felt so good, but you could barely take it.
"I'm gonna fill this pretty cunt up with so much cum you can taste it," he groans. "Yeah? You like that? You want me to cum inside this pretty cunt of yours?"
You nod quickly as you felt a second orgasm form.
His free hand snaked down your body and applied pressure to your clit, rubbing it roughly and your moans got louder.
"So good for me," he praised as he sensed he was going to cum.
"M'cumming, cum for me," he ordered, his hips stuttering before you felt the warmth of his cum paint your walls the same time your second orgasm ripped through you.
"Fuck," he panted, burying his head in your neck.
He looked down at you, his cum dripping out of your abused hole.
"We should do that more often," he said with a smirk.
#ethan landry#ethan landry x y/n#ethan landry smut#ethan landry x reader#ethan landry scream#scream#scream 6#scream vi#scream smut#smut#tw stepcest#stepbro!ethan
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*NSFW* How to train your pet Human pt. 3 (Yandere!Alien x GN!Reader)
CW: Dub-con, mild psychological distress, mind break, dead dove fic
Part 1, part 2
Kirtch slumped over his friend's standing chair, miserable and mopey.
A tall creature, taller than even Kirtch, sighed dramatically, sauntering around their depressed friend with a smaller horned being crawling behind them.
"I don't understand what I'm doing wrong." Kirtch whined pathetically in Jaudna's native tongue. Jaudna made a gurgling sound with the soft spot on their head, the closest human equivalent being someone rolling their eyes. They sprawled across their lounging seat, motioning for their pet to stay on his knees.
"I'll tell you exactly what you've done wrong. You pampered them too much."
"I punish them!"
"You punished them for their escape attempt. That was it. You've allowed your pet to test your authority in plenty of ways after that."
The man on his knees pleaded with his eyes to be let up, but stayed perfectly still, like he wasn't alive. Kirtch noted Jaudna's pet's demeanor with discomfort. That discomfort only lasted until he imagined (Reader) in that same position, looking up at him with their large dewy eyes, waiting so patiently to be held by him... his discomfort was replaced by jealousy.
"You don't understand, (Reader's) such a sweet little pet, and whenever they struggle they're so cute about it. I just can't understand why they aren't happy."
"Humans' minds are incredibly flawed. According to the few psychological texts I have gotten my claws on over the years, their memory is not set in stone like ours, it is fickle and easily manipulated. One of my books referenced a case in the nation called 'The United States of America' where nearly the entire country fell into panic over an imaginary evil, because a few doctors used a phoney science called 'hypnotism', a practice they believed could help recover forgotten memories, on a bunch of children, but accidentally implanted false memories of abuse, leaving the children traumatized, believing that they had been victims of a horrific occult."
Kirtch looked to his good friend nervously. "Are you implying I do something nefarious to my pet's mind?"
"No, I'm showcasing an example of how stupidly easy it should be to train your pet to love you." They tossed a book into Kirtch's hands, the cover printed with a photograph of a wild looking man, with fluffy hair and dark, hateful eyes. "Hypnotism isn't the only creative way humans have learned to reprogram each other."
Kirtch almost threw the book back, but saw Jaudna's unnamed pet still sitting so patiently for his master, and the pain in his body where his heart may have been throbbed again. "Thank you.. Jaudna."
(Reader) had waited for what they assumed to be well over an Earth day, alone in Kirtch's quarters, waiting for his return. The only company they received were the employees who brought their meals, speaking down at them in a language they didn't know, but could understand the disgust. It had been over a month since their fight with Kirtch. Every day since had been nothing but hell, feeling like their heart had been ripped out, they laid in their bed cage, only moving when necessary, allowing themselves to hide away inside their own mind.
The main door opened again, and (Reader) could hear Kirtch's long, graceful steps as he passed through the study and into the bedroom. "(Reader)? Are you still in bed?"
In an act of defiance, (Reader) kept their mouth shut, pulling the blanket tighter around their shoulders. But it was of little use, as Kirtch easily lifted their purposefully dead weighted body out of the bed.
"I'm sorry I was gone for so long, pet, but I had to see an old friend for advice." He carried (Reader) back to his desk, sitting them in his lap, fighting to hold them upright as they flopped about limply. "(Reader), please sit up so I can take off your shirt."
He began working on the wrists, the intricate metal cuffs with multiple buttons that almost acted like locks, and (Reader) subtly straightened their back to give him better access to the neck corset thing, thankful to finally have it off for a couple hours at least. (Reader) had grown to find it somewhat elegant the past few months, but it still was an incredible pain in the ass.
Feeling the air on their neck was bliss, and (Reader) immediately ran their fingers over their skin. (Reader) breathed a deep sigh, relaxing their body unintentionally. But almost as soon as their hands left their throat, a new collar was latched into place, a loud mechanism clicking as it tightened, stabbing the back of their neck with what felt like a fixed needle.
(Reader) cried out in pain, sprawling out their limbs on reflex, pushing themselves out of Kirtch's embrace and onto the floor, lying naked on their knees as they clawed at the collar, desperate to relieve the pain.
"What?? Why?" Their voice was barely audible through their sobs.
"I'm so sorry my pet, the pain will end soon, wait-" Kirtch pushed a button on what looked like a remote, and (Reader) could physically feel the rush of liquid enter their body, then the pain lightened, leaving (Reader) almost euphoric in it's absence.
"What is this? Why did you do this?" Betrayal laced their tone, and Kirtch looked almost on the verge of tears, but he stood still, refusing his urge to scoop up his little pet and beg for forgiveness.
"I know now that I didn't train you correctly, and for that I am sorry. I've given you too much leeway, and that is why you've been so unhappy." He took a ragged breath, thumbing the controller as he thought out his words. "I didn't want to do this, but I care about your happiness. This is for the best."
"So you put a shock collar on me?" (Reader) asked incredulously, spitting venom.
"No, nothing barbaric like that!" Kirtch looked hurt, flinching as he almost dropped onto his knees to comfort (Reader). "I just need to convince you that you're happy here with me, just as I did the first night you were here, to help you release your stress."
(Reader) remembered the shot he gave them, that first night when Kirtch used a toy to get them off, the hormones he artificially added to their body to make them feel pleasure, and then thought about the pain in the back of their neck. The color drained from their face. There were only two options; plead or double down.
"You can manipulate me all you like, I'll never be happy here." A tear escaped as (Reader) transformed their hurt into anger. "I deserve someone who will love me, not as a pet, but as an equal. Because I am a human fucking being. And we have partnerships. We don't jack off our pets, we do not love our pets like we love the people we have sex with, because that- that is not okay! Why did you.." (Reader) couldn't stop themselves from crying, looking up to try to at least slow the waterworks.
The silence between them was loud. (Reader) turned away, wiping away their snot with their bare arms.
"Pet, noun; a domestic or tamed animal kept for companionship or pleasure. Adjective; denoting a thing that one devotes special attention to or feels particularly strongly about." (Reader) looked up, horrified. "Your's may not be my first language, but I feel I had a pretty decent grasp on my understanding of what a pet is."
Kirtch placed a hand over his face to hide his expression.
"You'll be happier once this is all over. I promise."
"You son of a-!" (Reader) couldn't finish their sentence, more fluid passed into their spine, followed by an immediate sense of emptiness. Extreme anxiety flooded their body, causing severe stomach pain almost instantly. They collapsed, holding onto their midsection, their bare skin clammy. "What? Why?"
"No more talking back to me, pet." Kirtch kept his voice steady.
(Reader) cried out, rapidly becoming exhausted from heavy nothingness filling their body. "Please.. stop.."
Kirtch nodded, appearing relieved. He pushed another button, and the emptiness ebbed away, leaving (Reader) numb.
"I don't understand why you're doing this." (Reader) weakly grumbled, too tired to pick themselves up.
"Because I want you to be happy."
"I'll never be happy with you."
"Why?"
"Because! I deserve to be loved!"
"I love you-"
"Fucking liar." (Reader) snarled, knowing that this would cause them to be punished again, but needing to get in the last word. Kirtch looked so miserable, so crushed by (Reader's) words, but they felt vindicated by his pain. They needed to twist the knife deeper.
He smiled, so sadly, and grabbed a blanket, bending onto one knee as he covered his pet. "I love you, (Reader)."
Their heart clenched, and their face flushed. Immediately they searched his hands for the remote. "S-stop that."
"I love you."
Chemicals pumped into their neck, making (Reader) feverish and causing their thighs to ache. Their breath hitched, and tears of betrayal escaped. "I hate you."
"I know."
More pain gripped their throat, regret causing physical discomfort. "Why are you doing this?"
His smooth shelled fingers caressed their jaw, tenderly cradling (Reader's) face as though he needed them. Kirtch's touch sent shivers across (Reader's) skin, and they couldn't tell if it was because of the collar or their loneliness, but they wanted to pull him closer, make him touch them more.
"I will live for much longer than you. I will watch you grown old, and die. Even then, I will still love you. You are the most incredible creature I've ever met. I don't mind if you push me away, and slap at me. I just want you to be happy, at least most of the time." His head grew closer, his hardened face almost brushing (Reader's). "Let me make you happy."
'I need to fight back. Make him pay! I'm practically a slave! He bought me! I'll never see my family again because of him!'
(Reader) leaned forward, mind melting through their ears from the intense heat, and smashed their lips onto where his should have been.
All rational thoughts were drowned out by the intense need. They needed him, his love. (Reader) was aware of the sound of buttons clicking, but they couldn't stop, crawling onto Kirtch's body, feeling the edges of his joints scraping their back as his hands hungrily roamed their body, wanting to touch everything.
They would have felt ashamed, knowing how aroused they were, their exposed body touching Kirtch's stomach. Sweat was clinging to (Reader's) skin, and their eyes drooped stupidly. The only thing they could think of was relieving themselves, and wanting to see Kirtch relieved as well.
"Are you going to fuck me?" (Reader) whined between wet kisses, drunk on his touches.
"I will, if you want me to."
Their mood shifted, frustration beginning to surface again. "No. If you love me, wouldn't you want me?"
Kirtch sighed, fiddling with the remote behind (Reader's) back. "I do not have the same nervous system as humans do. We only engage in sexual acts for the purpose of procreation."
Shame shocked (Reader), sobering them up instantly. "Oh. I- I am so sorry." (Reader) moved to get off of Kirtch, but was held in place by the much stronger being.
"I will, to make you happy."
"No, I'm sorry! It won't make me happy knowing you aren't feeling good. I'm-I'm sorry, please let me go."
Kirtch pressed the button again, watching his pet's face darken and their mouth go from frightened to slack jawed. "Knowing you are feeling pleasure, from me, and only me, will bring me more joy than I can express." His cloak was ripped away, revealing his gorgeously colored exoskeleton. Kirtch gripped (Reader's) face tighter, forcing his blue tongue deep into their mouth, bursting with pride at the sounds (Reader) was making.
"What do you want me to do?" Kirtch asked, not intending on sounding like he was teasing them, but Kirtch craved the sound of their voice begging him.
"Please.." (Reader) swallowed their drool, feeling the hormones pumping into their brain, but too horny to care. "Please fuck me."
The spot on his pelvis where a human's genitals would be split open and a long, slimy cock revealed itself, growing behind (Reader's) back to a horrifying size. (Reader) only became aware of his erection when it fell forward, slapping against (Reader's) ass and lower back. In their intoxicated state, they turned back to look at what had suddenly touched them, and their eyes grew large in surprise. "Is that..? That's too big..."
Off balance and tipsy, (Reader) turned around, still sitting on Kirtch's abdomen, so that they were facing his exposed dick, and touched it experimentally. It was ridiculously huge, but because of the hormones being injected into (Reader's) neck, they were ravenous, using both hands to pump up and down on the shaft as they stuck the thin tipped head into their mouth, tasting Kirtch passionately. Kirtch was beyond elated, watching his precious pet so needy for him.
Kirtch picked (Reader) up, moaning at the popping sound as he pulled their mouth away from his body, seeing nothing but love in (Reader's) eyes as he spun them back to face him, and slowly began lowering (Reader) onto his naturally lubricated member. "Keep looking at me."
(Reader's) mind was hazy, and it felt like they were about to die, saliva and alien fluids leaking out their mouth and down their chin. Their internal voice had gone silent, the amount of tampering that had been done to their brain left (Reader) devoid of rational thought and intellect. "Yes sir." They barely got the words out as Kirtch entered their body, sliding into their needy little hole easily and without resistance, ramming himself in so their pelvis smacked into his shell with a wet plop, bringing (Reader) to a climax just from entering.
"Smile for me, pet." Kirtch cooed joyfully, loving how (Reader's) body spasmed, before slowly lifting them up, revealing the trail of their combined wetness stretching between their reproductive organs.
(Reader) smiled, reacting on autopilot as they rode out their orgasm, practically biting off their tongue when their sensitive body connected with Kirtch's again. "Ahhh, I already came! Stop!!" Their words cried for relief, however their voice and smile demanded more. It was too much, and (Reader) did want a break, but it also felt amazing, and that dirty little part of themselves that was desperate for love needed their body to be abused.
Kirtch bounced (Reader) on his cock, fucking them like a toy, regretting that he didn't have a camera rolling to capture just how adorable his pet was in his hands. "Look at how happy you are, pet! Don't you want to be this happy all the time? Don't you always want to be happy, with me?"
Kirtch greedily pushed the button again, peppering (Reader) with kisses as they came again, their sticky juices splattering on his stomach. The squelching sound of (Reader's) bruising body getting fucked by the hard as steel monster beneath them was music to Kirtch's ears. He had, embarrassingly, read the book his friend had lent him, and knew now how humans used pleasure to keep brainwashed people by their side. But it wasn't just pleasure, it was that feeling of connection. He had thought about what (Reader) had said, that humans don't jack off their pets, and that made sense, for animals that did not share the same level of intelligence as an adult human. What (Reader) needed, was to feel equal, to feel like they weren't just a pet, but a partner. So how would they feel, if Kirtch ejaculated so deep into their body they were still excreting his cum weeks later?
"I'm going to mark you as mine, (Reader)." It was a lie, his species did no such thing, but the look of unbridled joy on (Reader's) cross eyed face, the loopy smile that twitched as tears poured down to their chest, was a sight that made it worth lying.
"Are you cumming? Are you cumming in me?" (Reader) slurred, barely holding themselves upright in Kirtch's grasp.
"If you promise to be a good little pet." Kirtch could hold out for as long as needed. His species did not have sex for pleasure, so there was no sense of urgency when they needed to release. He could have continued going for hours, if he hadn't overdone it with the collar. (Reader) was on the verge of passing out.
"I promise! I promise to be a good pet! I promise!" (Reader) exclaimed, colliding their lips back onto Kirtch's as a string of hot sperm shot up into (Reader's) body, a fluid so thick it was practically glue, leaving (Reader) feeling physically full. Kirtch couldn't help but push the button again, seeing his pet overflow with adoration for him.
"I love you, (Reader), I really really do."
Kirtch whispered sweet nothing's into his pet's ear as they passed out, then carried them to his bed, tucking in their swollen body, not minding the mess. (Reader) really was the most beautiful and adorable little pet in the entire universe. He doubt that he would ever get another pet after (Reader) was gone. He sat on the floor, rubbing circles into their tear stained cheeks, smiling contently.
Of course, the next day Kirtch would have to use the collar, showing (Reader) how bad they truly felt inside when they refused to get out of bed, and while it was awful making them cry when they tried to refuse to eat, it was for the best. Kirtch knew it wouldn't take long for (Reader) to graduate from needing their collar, and that soon they would always be by his side, begging him to pick them up and play with them. It didn't matter whether (Reader) needed cuddles or needed to be filled with his seed, Kirtch would overuse that remote until they desired his touch all the time.
He didn't mind the glassy, doll like glaze to their eyes, the change in their speech, the way they began crying whenever it looked like Kirtch was unhappy, or how they stopped pushing him away. After months of flushing their system with artificial love, Kirtch knew that his pet was happy with him. And that was all that mattered.
#yandere#yandere alien#yandere alien x reader#pet human#cw dubcon#mind break#dead dove do not eat#dead dove fic#cw mind control#part three
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Alastor Episodes 7 and 8 Thoughts
These two episodes really gave us a lot in regards to Alastor and I cannot wait to see where they go with him in season 2. What I find most fascinating about what they established with him in these episodes is how I think this perfectly sets up Alastor to directly challenge the show’s main themes of redemption.
Alastor is the only character in the main cast that I think could effectively challenge Charlie’s idea of redemption by making her face the question of “where the line for who can be redeemed and who is too far gone is?”
Even Vaggie and her past as an exorcist couldn’t challenge Charlie’s ideals in the same way because Vaggie so clearly wants to be better and is trying to be better. She could only challenge Charlie’s idea of who could be redeemed. She couldn’t truly challenge the line of when someone is too far gone unlike Alastor.
And to explain this I'll just jump right in.
It’s clear these two episodes were meant to show a shift in Alastor and Charlie’s relationship in some capacity. It’s a bit more of a subtle shift than with the other characters, but I think it’s setting up this future conflict well for the limited time the show has.
At the start Charlie doesn’t think Alastor cares and calls him out on this. She directly states that she believes he enjoys the suffering. He refutes her idea of him by stating she doesn’t know what he feels. He purposefully hides his feelings behind a smile as a sign of control. (The first shift. It tells her there’s more beneath the surface)
Then Alastor helps Charlie enlist cannibal town and says he wants to mentor her in the song. This is more than the initial indifference and humor he got out of Charlie at the beginning. There’s an interest in seeing Charlie grow and being a part of it that wasn't there before. And, with Alastor helping Charlie here, trust is being built (at least on Charlie's end).
Then Alastor talks to Niffty (who he is clearly fond of) and admits he finds the group enjoyable to be around. He says he could grow accustomed to them after Niffty says she really likes them almost in agreement with her. He's very candid with Niffty and doesn't seem to feel the need to hide his emotions around her. They appear to be on the same wavelength.
And finally, Charlie is upset when she thinks that Alastor died against Adam and hugs him happily when he returns. In Charlie’s eyes Alastor has been helpful and risked himself and his power to protect the hotel. This is a true shift in their relationship on Charlie's end.
This bond is necessary because if (at the very least) Charlie doesn't care about Alastor then he won't be able to truly challenge her idea of redemption and the show implies it doesn't just go one way. It's just obscured.
To explain what I mean I want to look at Alastor's role in the final battle and that moment when he is alone after he escapes.
At the beginning of the battle he felt like the trump card he should have been. He makes the exorcists, before Adam destroys his shield, look like a joke. And he gives Adam a run for his money before he becomes overconfident and lets his guard down. He didn’t expect Adam to bounce back and have that much power left to show. He was caught completely off guard and paid the price.
And instead of staying to face the end with the rest of the people in the hotel Alastor opts to save himself. He places himself first. When he leaves he seems almost smug, spouting off a one liner and smiling as he sinks into the shadows. It seems calculated and calm, but alone is a completely different story. This moment shakes Alastor and that moment alone puts his fight against Adam and decision to flee in a different light.
In this moment when he's alone he starts to lose it, saying there has to be a way out. This isn’t where things end. He will come out on top.
He can feel his control over the situation slipping. His power and notoriety has been challenged left and right this season. First Vox, then Lucifer, then the loan sharks, now Adam. It’s one right after the other. And Adam almost killed him.
He’s struggling to grasp onto what little control he has left by forcing himself to keep on his smile and it calls back to the beginning of episode 7 when he says to Charlie that just because she sees a smile doesn't mean she knows how he really feels. His smile is a sign of control. And even in this moment you can see that last bit of control slipping. And it’s left him even more desperate for his freedom than before.
The Radio Demon was introduced almost as if he was an all powerful entity and now he is being brought back down to earth and he’s raging against it, barely keeping it just below the surface.
But there’s even more to his breakdown than just his pride. The lines “Great Alastor, altruist, died for his friends. Sorry to disappoint that is not where this ends. I’m hungry for freedom like never before. The constraints of my deal surely have a backdoor.” strongly imply that he really does care for the residents of the hotel more than he wants to admit even to himself.
He is freaking out because he got too close to dying trying to protect and help people that he never thought he would care at all about and he’s doubling down on his plans from before.
His immediate desperation to be free implies he is at the hotel because he is forced to be there, but he’s desperate to get out of the contract because he doesn’t like how it’s changing him. Alastor has always put himself first and here he is almost dying trying to protect this hotel and it's rattled him even more deeply than the blow to his pride.
I feel like they know exactly what Alastor can mean thematically and they want you to know he’s a villain while seeding hints there could be change under the surface (ones that Alastor himself is afraid of and wants to double down against). There’s a balancing act going on with him and it seems they really do want to challenge the idea of redemption with him. Not just Charlie’s, but his own as well.
Alastor is still in my opinion the best written character in the series. There’s just so much to unravel with him and he’s the most fun to try and dissect to me. I can’t wait to see what they have planned for him in season 2.
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor#the show must go on#hello rosie#charlie#netflix#Alastor is such a fascinating character#he has the potential to really challenge Charlie's views of redemption#By either showing her when someone is too far gone#because he doubled down on his original plans#or actually accepting that he's changing#and finding “redemption”#thus proving that anyone can change#even a sadistic prideful overlord
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how about a reader who's been feeling pretty overworked recently?and just needs to rest but is to stubborn to Al does something about it?
Now it's Alastor's turn to pamper~
Alastor X Reader Headcanons
✅️Romantic
❌️Platonic
TW: None I think??
Description: ☝️⬆️
You've been going nonstop all week and it's been taking it's toll on you physically and mentally
There's so much that needs done and you're only one person, you don't have time to sit and relax
Which means you're unintentionally taking time with you away from Alastor
Not his ears drooping and folding back when he realizes you're going to turn him down
"I'm so sorry, Alastor, I'm just too tired to go out and I really need to finish this."
"Y/N, it's our date night and I insist that you-"
"I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you later, I promise."
But you pass out and Alastor has to carry you to bed, hating that you're so overworked right now, that you have no time to spare for him
Which in his deer brain, means that you're neglecting him because you're so fried from work
And that means he's gotta fix this
But you're stubbon and won't relax willingly so he's got to get creative
"Darling, won't you take this bubble bath with me? I need help getting my back~"
🥵🥵 s-sure
He takes special care to massage and scrub every part of you until you're a gooey mess in his hands
Despite his claws, he can be surprisingly gentle, it's rather soothing to feel them ghosting over your skin
It's not until later when your back is against his chest and he's kissing your shoulder that you realize he's been spoiling you the entire time
Literally carries you to bed bridal style and dries your body with a loving reverence that makes you blush
"Alastor, I can do this myself-"
"Hush now, let me do this for you..."
Rubs fancy lotions and creams into your skin, massaging until you inevitably fall asleep under his care
Nobody is allowed to wake you or bother you at all for the time being, he'll make sure of it
He finds excuses to interrupt you during your work, forcing you to take breaks
"Darling, I accidentally made too much jambalaya! So I thought I might bring you some as I am quite sure you haven't eaten today~"
"Alastor, I don't have time to-that smells really good..."
It's so good you could cry, devouring the entire thing while he stays and has lunch with you, turning it into a mini date
You didn't even realize how tense were before Alastor showed up, feeling full and relaxed after he gives you a parting kiss
You really don't want him to go, watching him leave with a longing expression
Not him purposefully stealing something you need so that you have no choice but to seek him out
"Have you seen my folder? I can't get back to work without it!"
"Hm? I can't say that I have, but have you seen what a beautiful day it is outside? Why not just skip work today, and we'll take a stroll through Cannibal Town?"
Won't take no for an answer, already looping his arm with yours and marching you outside
It is actually a beautiful day outside
Takes you to all your old haunts and spends all day buying anything you even look at
It feels good to catch up with Rosie and some of your old friends, not having realized how long it's been since you've seen them
He also takes you out dancing, which leaves you tired and sore, but in the best way possible, he was always exciting to dance with
Will carry you home if he has to, will actually find an excuse to do so
"Do your feet hurt? Here, let me carry you~"
You pass out before he puts the blanket over you, soothed by his scent on your pillow
It's not until later when you wake up to him putting your folder back in your bag that you realize what he's been up to
"Alastor..?"
Oh fuck he's been caught
"Darling! I was just-cleaning off your bag and-"
"...just shut up and come back to bed..."
Literally climbs right on top of you and flops on you like he's your own personal weighted blanket
Kissing your neck and shoulders before whispering into your ear with a slightly guilty voice
"Are you angry with me?"
"Mm...not if you keep giving me attention like this..."
Well, he wouldn't want his darling Y/N to start getting angry with him now, would he?
The next day you feel more renewed and refreshed than you have in weeks, waking up tangled in Alastor's arms
You chuckle softly and push some of his hair out of his (totally not pretending) sleeping face, admiring his handsome features
He's a sneaky man who tricks you into relaxing and taking time for yourself because he loves you
And you love him all the more for it
This one was too cute! I hope you like it
#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor hazbin hotel x reader#alastor hazbin x reader#alastor x reader#hazbin x reader
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Under one Roof pt 1
pt 2
OK finally IT'S HERE
smh I'm down bad for roommate ghost I am sobbing
my hand is literally burning I wrote this aT COLLEGE
and YES my love language is food pls dont come for me
Summary: you never knew you needed a military roommate until you've got one.
Word Count: 1k (sorry it's short
Warnings: roommate!ghost x female!reader, slightly suggestive (if you squint), mentions of trauma, fluff/comfort, no use of y/n
masterlist
Ghost was an old friend of a friend of yours, and he happened to be needing a place to stay for a while, that ended up being a few more months, and now it's currently been a year since he moved in. He doesn't plan on leaving, you know it, you know that despite the independent man that he is, he likes having someone to come home to.
He was cold at first, so cold. And for many nights you cursed yourself for letting that rock of a heart get into your sweet home. He wouldn't talk much when he was there, you'd almost forget he was around if it wasn't for random coughs or sneezes.
That man smoked like a chimney in the first days he's spent around, he was anxious and that wasn't very cute, he was always smelling like cigarettes, but thankfully he didn't smoke inside.
He appreciated your effort on cooking for the two of you, but you couldn't help it. How could he survive when he wasn't eating properly? Yes, frozen pizza is cool… until it's the third day in a row that you're eating frozen and instant food and you can barely stand.
He also had a fucked up sleeping schedule that you just went along with it, you once got scared when you walked in the kitchen and found him just laying on the wall, eyes closed and snoring slightly. That day you scolded him to go back to his room and made him lay down on the bed.
"You're gonna lay down on this bed and you're gonna have some nice hours of sleep, alright? I'm gonna leave the door open, if I see you awake I'm punching you." You sounded like a mother, almost, and he was so tired he couldn't fight back.
And the days went by, he'd go away, he'd come back as tired as he left. But at least he was slowly opening up to be a really cool guy. You two started to bond, and the more he talked, the more you wanted to spend time with him.
Oh and don't even get started on dad jokes, he's cracking them up whenever he's helping with house chores, or when you two are eating peacefully.
He became a friend, a very good friend, one that wouldn't mind you venting out to, plus he was a good listener. He'd just sit there listening to whatever haze your brain was going through, and slowly he learned that he shouldn't be giving you reasonable ways to solve your problems, he should just tell you it would be ok.
And you found yourself slowly falling for him. Of course destiny had to put you together. Only if it wasn't for the way he handled things around the house.
"Oh, the living room lamp broke? Let me fix it."
"Those boxes are heavy, hand them to me."
"Go find a movie for us to watch, I'll do the dishes. Find a good one, though."
"Goddamnit, I told you not to be climbing on that fucking balcony, you're not a cat, you're gonna hurt yourself one day." Said as he picked you up when you were trying to reach the top of the cabinet. "Just ask me, I can reach it without putting myself in danger."
Or maybe if it wasn't for the fact that he'd purposefully get out of the shower with that pretty little towel wrapped around his body, that made you clench your fists. The way he was still a bit wet, a few drops running down his abs. He was surprisingly cool with his scars around you, maybe because you didn't make a big deal out of it.
That's because it wasn't. You expected that when Gaz, your friend, told you that the friend he was sending to you was his 'work buddy'. And he phrased it exactly like that.
"Don't mind him, he's big and scary, but he'll be a good roommate, I promise, he's my work buddy." You chuckled when you read the text.
And yet Ghost didn't mind the stare of admiration coming from your burning gaze across the living room, when you thought the most ungodly things a brain has seen.
He started to become more and more warm, he found safe with you, like you could actually be his home. One night, he found a deep conection with you when you were casually drinking together, sat by the coffee table, playing video games.
She should know the truth about me.
He thought. And that was the night he dropped his heavy armor. He told you the bare surface of his past, even though most of it had been blocked from his memory, like a dark spot he couldn't remember, and would die without trying to take a peak at it.
You cried, and he couldn't understand why you were crying until you said it wasn't his fault.
"It's not your fault, you didn't deserve any of this." You sobbed, hugging him close.
He broke down. Like he needed someone to reassure him that he wasn't the villain from his past. He realized what you meant to him, and he swore to God he would try his best to come home to you when he had to work.
Some days were strange after that, like he regretted telling you about his story. He had that feeling in his gut that you weren't looking at him the same way, like you were pity. He didn't want your pity, he hated that look on your face.
But that changed.
He had come home one day, texting you while he was at the airport waiting for a ride. You ran to get groceries and make him a good meal, but the only thing that came to your mind was the old recipe of lasagna you kept from your grannie.
That old lady, always saving your life.
#cod mw2#ghost cod#cod fanfic#cod mwii#simon ghost riley#simon riley#cod modern warfare#cod x reader#ghost simon riley#ghost x reader#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost#ghost call of duty
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I've got a new d&d group and they're almost all new players, with some of them having played with me before in oneshots/ gotten a couple sessions into campaigns that fizzled.
There's the usual learning pains: No one's quite got a handle on the rules yet and is relying on me for which dice to roll ( it's a D20 friends, it's always going to be a D20 unless it's damage I don't know how many times I have to say that). Person A is nervous and over-talkative , person B is nervous and withdraws from conversation, Person C is always running a little late...
But what really surprises me is the difference between them and the group I've had going for 2 years now:
Newgroup THEORIZES in a way that I don't think I've ever seen despite playing this game for two decades. I'll ask them what they're doing and they'll have a multi-minute chat weighing the value of different options. They don't turn to ME, or ask me if things are possible ( which is what new players tend to do), they turn to eachother and ask if they think it's a good idea that they do X or Y and then what could happen from there. I'm trying to be a good DM and let them learn the ropes but it's FASCINATING response. For example; the barbarian says "I'll use my shield to pin the monster in place so we can question them about the villain" and before I can even get into my response another player will say "but what if I used my rope instead to tie them up?", meanwhile none of them have confirmed if the monster is in any way related to the villain or is capable of speech (it wasn't, it was a mimic fyi)
Newgroup is LASER targeted on their goal, which was a surprise as someone who was DMing for a party that purposefully jumped ship on the A plot ASAP and is actively resentful of anything resembling a main quest. Newgroup passes through a mining village that's been deserted after a recent attack by monsters which drove people up into the hills, a Classic rescue mission with a bit of a dungeon delve on top, intended to give the party some XP and magic items before they leave the early game and I stop pulling my punches. Newgroup stays just long enough to confirm that the monsters have nothing to do with the A plot and unanimously decide to leave the village post haste. Meanwhile I have to be careful about what information I drop to oldgroup, as if they catch a single whiff of villanious wrongdoing they'll drop what they're doing and divert their attention to wiping that threat off the map. I've now had to have multiple villains make peace treaties in all but name with this party because of their habit of knocking out rivals/threats/governments.
Because oldgroup know the game really well they're less experimental with what they want to accomplish. They know that things can be solved through class features/dice rolls/damage, and so those are their default solutions to most problems. Meanwhile newgroup has no IDEA what the limits of the game system are so they're trying clever stuff left and right. " Can I hit it in the eye with my arrow? Can I use this spell to find out if _____, Can we use the flying boots to _____?" They're asking genuinely good questions so often that it's made me want to play around with the d20 resolution system to get something more closed to the " drawback/mixed success" sorts of results you get in apocalypse world style games. ( I think I found a neat fix, more on that to come)
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My Love Is Mine All Mine
Week 2 of my Playlist series 🎧💕
Summary: Spencer Reid always liked broken things, but you didn't think you could be fixed. Maybe all you needed was understanding and companionship.
Warnings: slight angst, case details mentioned - misogyny, kidnapping, etc, but no graphic/ explicit details. Hurt/Comfort.
A/N: Tumblr, please let me post haha I've been good, I promise 🙏 This fic is so late because I've been having some technical issues with tumblr and it has greatly annoyed me, so hopefully if you're seeing this it's been fixed? Who knows... Thank you to everyone who has sent in songs so far for the Playlist series, I'll be cresting the playlist today and posting it for everyone to see and use!
Masterlist || Series Playlist
Falling for Spencer Reid wasn't in your plan for the new year, but looking back, it was probably something that was just bound to happen.
He'd been the first person to show you any kindness after everything you went through, the first person who hadn't put their own rigid horror at your past before their attempts at sympathy.
You watched the way people recoiled from you as you told them - bluntly, you had to be blunt - what the man in the cabin had done to you.
He listened to your words, didn't interrupt, didn't quietly shake in anger, and refuse to meet your eyes like your father did, didn't weep for her baby like your mother did. He took your hand as it shook. He held your gaze.
It was his job to ask questions, but there weren't many left to answer.
The only reason you were alive was because his team had tracked the string of bodies to your kidnappers home. You were alive because one of his coworkers had put a bullet through his head, ending your nightmare.
The very idea of love was repulsive to you as you emerged from that basement in the first days of the next year, and you remembered thinking the snow looked fresh and soft. You remembered wanting to lay in it, to wrap it around yourself like a warm blanket and drift into sleep. The cold ground would be as much comfort as you would allow yourself.
Because after everything, you knew you didn't deserve love.
You accepted understanding from him, though.
When the shock wore off, you were awash in all the misery inflicted upon you. You raged, kicked, screamed, broke things, and made people uncomfortable. Nothing would numb the pain of being trapped inside your head, your head still trapped inside that basement, that cage.
He came to visit you at the hospital. The nurses had given up on you, were content you were physically healing, and that they had technically done their job but not bothered by your deteriorating mental state. Some days, you swore that they pierced your skin in the wrong places purposefully, not even searching for your vein.
But then he was there, with a book and a chess board, and he'd asked you if you'd ever played before.
“No. Chess always seemed too…” You swallowed the bile that drowned your lungs and tried again. “Before, it was boring. An old person game, too many rules. Now… He said we shouldn't do things like this. Said we shouldn't cultivate our minds.”
It was a confession again, but one that took a weight off your shoulders, and not one that pushed it further down.
“Would you like to learn?” His tone was so soft and awkward, like a teenage boy asking a girl out on a first date, that you almost giggled.
“I'll be honest and say you'll never beat me, I've played through most board combinations, including a large proportion of the 10^80 theorised checkmate positions, so if you'd rather do something else, that's fine, or I can leave, too, if… you'd… prefer?”
You had laughed then, a thing that bubbled up from the pit of your stomach and left your shoulders shaking as you gasped for breath doubled over.
You'd been in hell for six months, and he'd drawn you out of it for a few moments by rambling about chess.
“Are you a patient person, Doctor Reid?”
“I think so.”
“Then set up the board and let's play.”
He beat you every time, obviously, but you enjoyed his small explanations of the moves, and you did improve slightly.
More than that, you enjoyed his company. It wasn't that you talked extensively In your hospital room, oscillating between your lowest point and somewhere just a rung above that where the snow was falling and the air was fresh, but that he never looked at you the way others did.
You were discharged and were sad to lose that small glimmer of normality. He'd come twice a week throughout January, and now you were back in your usual shape. You were being discharged, and so that would end.
You were surprised that he came to pick you up from the hospital the day you left.
The parents who had looked everywhere for you for half a year hadn't wanted to, and the close friends from before hadn't spared you a thought since reposting your missing poster on their social media pages.
But the man you played chess with twice a week, the man who'd carried you out of hell himself was there.
“Ready to go?” You nodded, dumbstruck, and followed as he grabbed your bag.
You weren't exactly sure where it was you were going, but you followed the man anyway, only a small part of your brain shouting in protest considering the last time you'd been blindly trusting.
He led you back to an apartment with some bare furnishings but a large window and a warm soft blanket covering the bed. It wasn't his, but yours.
“Your parents are paying for it. They're taking the city to court due to the circumstances. Apparently, there were numerous phone calls to law enforcement that went unnoticed, but the city is looking to settle, so you don't have to worry about rent for a while, maybe ever again. The WiFi is all set up, hot water is working, and so is the heating. The locks are triple enforced, and I'm right down the hall, so if you need-”
“What?”
He blinked at you and suddenly, looking sheepish, as if becoming aware that he'd presumed a friendship between the two of you without consulting you first.
“I live down the hall.”
You stared at each other for a few moments as you processed his words. He lived down the hall. He'd driven you to your new home, set everything up for you, and he lived down the hall.
“You're a good man, Spencer Reid.” You whispered, turning away to not let the moment linger anymore than it already had.
Chess nights became routine. You'd set up the board and play for an hour or two or until you were sick of losing.
Gradually, though, the nights got longer. He'd arrive just as you were eating a meal, and you'd invite him to join you, or he'd bring along takeaway and you'd eat quietly together, talking about everything and nothing.
One day, you'd mentioned a film. A popular one, one you'd loved as a child and still rewatched to this day.
“I've never seen it, is it good?” He'd said. And in your shock, you jumped up and sent half the chessboard flying.
“Well, it seems that now our game is over, that we have time to give you an education, Doctor Reid.”
“I have three PhD's-”
“And still you haven't seen Clueless?”
You'd pulled him over to the couch he'd picked out for you, loaded up the movie and then invented a new tradition.
Chess nights and film nights were separate days of the week. So he could always promise to be around for one of them even if he had to miss the other because of work.
You didn't ask him about his job anymore. He saved people like you, and you didn't need to be thinking about people like you too much.
What they went through, if they survived physically. If they survived in other ways.
He always visited you first when he returned, though. There would be a knock on your door at some point in the day or night, and he'd let you know he was home safe.
Another tradition. You'd opened the door to let him in the first time he'd returned from a case after you moved in, and he'd leaned down and wrapped his arms around you.
You heard the breath of relief, loud and emotional, and hadn't quite realised it had come from you until a few minutes later. Some part of you had thought he wouldn't come back.
Now, every time he came home, you ran to the door and quietly comforted each other, reminding the other that no matter what happened, you were both there for each other.
You weren't sure when traditions and movies turned into love or if it had lingered over you the entire time. You didn't think you could love someone right then, your heart broken into small pieces with the torment you'd suffered.
But it was stitched back together with pieces of him still lodged inside. He was in the very fabric of your being as you became whole again.
The truth was that you most likely couldn't find love again because there was no room in your heart for anyone else. And you'd never be able to reschedule chess nights to go on dates anyway.
You weren't sure if Spencer ever figured out how much of hum you carried around with him, how your eyes followed his lips as he ran through decades of memories to give you the fact he thought would please you the most. You weren't sure if he loved you as much as you did him until you were.
You'd agreed to watch one of his movies for a change, agreeing to stop the streak of 80s brat pack classics to watch a black and white war film from Russia with no subtitles. You'd sat together on that couch under blankets you'd bought together months earlier, and he'd pulled you in closer.
“I want to watch the movie and translate at the same time. You should sit here.” He'd pulled you into his lap, letting your back fall against his chest as his lips fell to your ears, and he began to whisper.
Sitting there so closely, so intimately, was almost torture. Unconsciously, your head tipped back with his words, displaying your neck and shoulders, silently willing his lips to drift even once. His arms wrapped around your waist, and you did your best not to squirm the entire movie, but with your heart beating out of your chest, it was a hopeless cause.
“Did you enjoy it?” He whispered as the credits rolled, but you hadn't even noticed the movie had ended. It wasn't until the silence that followed his question stretched out notably that you came back to reality. You couldn't answer, in fact. You gaped for a few short moments, hoping something vague but accurate enough would just pop into your mind.
As you attempted to negotiate yourself out of distraction, you turned your face to his, but he was closer than you thought.
Your noses touched, and your breaths mingled. His arms still wrapped around your waist, and your blankets still anchored you to one another.
“I wasn't paying attention to the movie, Spencer. I'm sorry.” The words came out of you so fast, yet so quietly that you were surprised yourself how honest you had chosen to be.
“Why not?” He asked, eyes having drifted sleepily down to gaze at your lips.
You didn't answer his question but felt your cheeks flush red. You thought about pulling away, moving back, or at least laughing everything off, but you didn't. You stayed there, still like a deer in headlights.
“Your voice was too distracting,” You forced some of the tension out of your body and let your head fall against his shoulder again, hoping this moment wouldn't end anytime soon.
“Distracting?” He sounded concerned and shifted in his seat, lifting you up from your happy place in his arms until you were again face to face. “Did I make you uncomfortable?”
The look on his face was so concerned and focused that you had to pause for a second to catch your breath. He cared about your comfort so much and paid attention to each word that came out of your mouth. He wanted your happiness more than anything in the world.
“No. I'm never uncomfortable with you, Spencer.” You were back to whispering now, hands floating up to grab his own, fidgeting by his sides. You bought them up to your face and guided his hands to your cheeks, needing to show him just how comfortable you were with him in actions, not just words. Words could be dishonest. Actions were honest.
His concern melted away as he began stroking your cheek with his thumb, smiling sweetly at you.
Though you were both content, you'd never been quite this intimate before. So when his thumb swiped over the corner of your lips, your eyes both caught on each other. You could see him weighing up the outcomes in his head, going back and forth between pulling away and pushing in closer.
Slowly and softly, as though he were trying not to startle you, his head moved closer until his lips were on yours.
It was a quiet kiss. You wouldn't describe it as fireworks, or butterflies, or anything loud and grand and passionate. It was quiet, and it was right.
He pulled away seconds later, trying to gauge your reaction, but you followed him away and kissed him again.
When you finally pulled away, it took you a few seconds to realise you'd climbed back into his lap, unconsciously having moved closer to him. You guiltily looked up, waiting to see any discomfort on his features, but to your surprise, he was busy straightening out your hair.
“I love you, Spencer,” you whispered as he took care of you. He smiled, looking down at you once again, pulling his arms around you to gently lower both of you down to a laying position on your couch.
“I love you, too,” he said as you held each other and drifted into contented sleep.
#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid fanfic#mgg#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fandom#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid criminal minds#dr spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid hurt/comfort
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Come Back to Me
Stay Away From Him pt. 2
Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Reader
Prompt: Miguel has been away on a mission for too long and he comes back different.
A/N: I LOVE YOU GUYS! I am so happy that you guys loved part 1 so much that I knew I had to write some more. 99.99% of everyone asked for fluff, but unfortunately for everyone, I excel in tension and dramatic ass scenes. This scenario literally came to me in my dreams so I had to write it. I'm tagging everyone that left me a message or mentioned they would like a part 2. I hope you guys like it and don't hate me if you don't!
For new readers, welcome! You do not need to read part 1 to understand this part. If you guys hate this part, I will write more and I'll write some fluff to make up for it lol
Part 1
Taking a deep breath and letting out a sigh, you roll your shoulders and stretch out your muscles. You were inside Miguel’s chamber at your desk where you work. It was quiet there, only a few people were working about but none were talking above hushed whispers. Looking over the top of your monitor to see who was around, you notice that a few people were already looking at you before their glances shot away when you made eye contact with them. You think it was strange but you have been catching weird glances from people for a few weeks now.
Looking over at the empty dais, your heart pangs a little when you are reminded that Miguel isn’t there. It’s been about a month since your incident with Miguel. And every day since then, things have been awkward. Miguel was sending you off to help other people and giving you work that would keep you away for days at a time. He barely said a few words to you and looked at you even less.
A week after the incident happened, a mission came up and Miguel went to handle it. That was 2 weeks ago. It’s been radio silent since then. Jessica assures you that Miguel is checking in with her and everything is fine. She says that she’s been in contact with him and helping him through his mission, but still, that didn’t reassure you. Miguel always went over every mission with you. You always assisted him through every trip. You were his eyes and ears then all of a sudden he doesn’t even want to tell you he’s leaving or where he was going?
You were tempted to ask him not to go but you held your tongue. Ever since Miguel left, you had a bad feeling in your gut but you ignored it. Maybe he just doesn’t want to talk to me. That’s fine! If he wants to get all moody and dramatic then fine. He can check in with Jessica then. Have her run around for him. Huffing out a breath again, you refocus on the task you were working on.
You were pulled out of your focus when you heard in the distance, “Everyone, we are going into a soft lockdown. I repeat, soft lockdown. Gwen and Hobie meet up in Room 5. Keep it quiet. Y/N is still in the dark. Let’s keep it that way.” It sounded like Jessica’s voice coming through someone’s personal intercom. Picking up your own device, you check if you had accidentally turned it off since it didn’t go through yours, but it’s on. This means that Jessica purposefully sent out the message to everyone else, except for you. Y/N is still in the dark?
Pretending to stretch and yawn, you sneak a glance around the room again. The few people that were left in the room were huddled together, a few were walking out of the room urgently. But what made a shiver run up your spine was that everyone was looking at you. Everyone is hiding something from you. That is clear now. You weren’t sure what they were hiding but something in your gut is telling you it was bad. And it’s something to do with Miguel.
Room 5. She said they were meeting in Room 5. Not really sure where that is or what’s in there but it has got to explain why everyone has been acting so strangely. Standing up from your desk, the conversations in the room immediately stop and it’s utterly silent. Trying to act as normal as possible, you slowly walk out of the room.
After what felt like hours with your heart beating out of your chest, you finally found “Room 5”. Slowly creeping into the room, you can see that it is empty except for a giant cage in the middle of the room. The room is dark and there seems to be only one light directly above the cage. Surrounding the cage were Jessica, Gwen, Hobie, and Peter B. Parker, and inside the cage … was Miguel.
Except, it wasn’t Miguel. The Miguel in the cage was feral and animalistic. He was hunched over and crouched down low as if he was ready to attack. His arms are held out low to his side and his claws are extended. Though Miguel is already a naturally large guy, his tensed and flexed muscles seem to be bulging out more, giving him that beast-like appearance. His hair was a completely tangled mess, wild and unkempt. His breathing is frantic and unstable. Though he looks a mess, he is standing utterly still.
This isn’t Miguel. This isn’t your Miguel. Something is wrong. Something is seriously wrong.
Sneaking into the room and sticking to the shadows, no one in the room senses that you’re there. Everyone except for Miguel. As you slip into the room, he turns his head and watches you from over his shoulder but doesn’t make any other movements. Seeing him now, you could see that his lips are pulled back so that his fangs are out and on display. His eyes are wild and bloodshot red, though when he sees you, his eyes focus on you as if you’re prey. He doesn’t move and doesn’t make any sounds at you so you remain hidden from everyone else.
Everyone is oblivious to your presence and their conversation continues. Gwen is arguing with Jessica and it looks as though Peter is trying to keep the peace, though he’s not doing a good job. Hobie is casually leaning against the wall nearby giving off a nonchalant appearance but the look on his face indicates that he is upset.
“You can’t do this, Jessica! It could kill him!”
“What choice do we have? The next time he escapes, who knows what could happen. If the antidote doesn’t kill him then the poison that’s already in him will!”
“We still have time to find another way. Maybe he just needs more time and it’ll wear off.”
“Gwen, he doesn’t eat, he doesn’t sleep. He doesn’t even talk! All he does is growl and attack anyone that gets too close. This is getting out of hand!”
“Why don’t we tell, Y/N? Y/N should know about this. And you know as well as anyone else, he has a soft spot for her. Maybe she can help!”
“He’s been back for two weeks and he hasn’t gotten better. If he was going to get better he would have shown signs of it by now. If Y/N knows and he doesn’t snap out of it, how do you think Y/N would take it?”
“Why don’t you ask me?” You finally had enough and decided to make yourself known. Everyone turns abruptly as you step forward further into the room to be seen under the light.
“Two weeks?” You whisper as you look each one of them in the eyes and feeling betrayed, “He’s been back for two weeks and no one told me? None of you told me.”
Inside the cage, Miguel turns his body completely to be fully facing you now. The entire time, his eyes never leave you. Finally having the time to look him over completely, what you saw broke your heart. He looked tired but also on high alert to attack. There were dark bags under his eyes and his face seems sunken in. His eyes seem to soften slightly as he looks back at you but his face is still grimacing. While you were too busy watching him, what you didn’t see was all the knowing looks that everyone else was passing to each other.
“Not only did you keep this from me, but now I learn that you want to kill him?!” Instead of feeling hurt, now your adrenaline is kicking in. You’re feeling angry and upset and … panicked. Your mind feels like it’s on a high and you’re acting without thinking.
“No, Y/N, we aren’t killing him. We managed to create an antidote but it only has a small chance of working … and a big chance of killing him. But it’s the only choice we got!” Jessica tries to reason with you.
“And you would take that chance?” How could they even consider this an option? I have to do something and do it quick.
“We don’t have another choice.” Peter jumps in now, speaking in a calm tone.
“Let’s think about it some more.” Gwen is speaking to Jessica now and their original argument from when you first entered the room resumes. The three go back to arguing with one another and Hobie still stays on the sidelines. Except this time, he’s not watching them. He’s watching you. He’s giving you an intense look as if he was trying to tell you a message.
Slowly but pointedly, he looks at the door of the cage. Following his line of sight, you look back at the cage. The cage is locked but the key is a fingerprint pad. Which means that anyone who has clearance can open it. And you have clearance. Being Miguel’s assistant, you are allowed clearance to nearly everything he is. Looking back at Hobie, he inclines his head slightly to the cage and gives you one firm nod of confirmation.
Throwing a quick glance at the arguing three to confirm that they are preoccupied, without giving it a second thought, you take off running for the cage. Before anyone could react, you slam your hand down onto the pad. Less than a second later, you are throwing the door to the cage open and slamming it shut behind you. “Are you out of your mind?!” You hear Gwen yell at you and the others are yelling too but you’re not listening.
Now you’re staring face-to-face with a feral Miguel. Miguel has crouched low at your sudden entrance and his claws and fangs are fully on display, though he doesn’t move close to you. He’s standing still and watching you for your move. The world seems to fade away and your sole focus is on him but you could feel the flurry going on outside of the cage. But you don’t look, you keep your attention strictly on his face.
Half expecting to be mauled to death the instant you got inside the cage, you are happily surprised that Miguel seems more cautious of you at the moment. Testing your luck, you hold out both hands in front of you and take a hesitant step forward. Again to your surprise, Miguel inches back. Testing it again, you take a full step this time, and again he backs away from you.
“Careful, now.” Hobie sounds close. Turning to look over your shoulder, you see that Hobie is walking closer to the cage. Miguel lets out a low growl and your eyes shoot back to him. But looking back at him, his stance is different. He looks like he’s ready to pounce. His expression has also turned more deadly and angry. But rather than looking at you like you expected, he’s staring over your shoulder. He’s watching Hobie.
You can hear Hobie’s steps getting closer and the closer he comes, the more agitated Miguel gets. Miguel is starting to walk closer to you now but his eyes are still fixed on Hobie. Seeing that Miguel is moving towards you, Hobie says. “Y/N, I think it’s time to go. Let’s not push our luck, yeah?” Hobie is speaking in a serious tone, he’s not asking.
Without warning, Hobie shoots out his web onto your back and pulls you back towards the door. Your body is jerked back but you don’t get far because suddenly Miguel is there. He jumps forward and wraps one arm around your body and his other arm shoots to your back and slashes the web off of you. The web breaks easily under his claws and he is pulling you back further into the cage. He stops in the middle of the cage where he abruptly lays you down on the floor.
Thinking that he’s attacking you, your hands shoot up to your face but when nothing hits you, you peek through your fingers and look up at him. Miguel is crouching on all fours atop of you as you’re laid out completely on your back. His knees are straddling your thighs and his hands are on either side of your head. He is hunched low as if he was protecting your body. His face is looking up, you assume it’s towards Hobie still.
“Hey.” You whisper. He only shoots you a quick look but his head jerks back up again. Finding the courage, you try again, “Hey.” Except this time, you gingerly bring your hand up and let your fingers touch his cheek. He jerks at the touch and turns his head to look down at you. That motion puts his face firmly in your hand and now you’re cupping his face.
“Hey there, big guy.” He’s leaning into your touch and his body falls even lower. Your other hand comes up and it rests on his chest and you could feel his heart beating as if he just ran a marathon. All he does is just stare at you. You were waiting for something to happen. Maybe he’ll snap out of it and become normal again. Maybe he will just snap your neck and be done with it. But no. He doesn’t move. Just looks at you.
“Y/N, can you get out?” Jessica asks from somewhere in the room.
“I’m not going anywhere. He’s fine. Keep working on an antidote that will actually help him. I’ll keep him calm.” No one responds back to you but you can hear footsteps receding and you know that you two are now alone in the room. A few beats go by in the silence before Miguel starts showing signs of relaxing.
His lower body lowers and is laying on top of you. Miguel falls down to his elbows and it brings his face even closer to yours. He nuzzles the top of your head and you could feel the tip of his nose run through your hair as he travels down your body. Your hand that was resting on his cheek travels down his neck and lands against his chest. Your close your eyes and will yourself to keep a clear head.
The tip of his nose runs down to your cheek and he stills for just one moment when his lips graze yours. “What happened to you? I’m scared. Come back to me.” You whisper against his lips. You suck in a breath when his tongue darts out to lick your bottom lip but he doesn’t respond. One of his hands comes up to cup one side of your neck, keeping you still. His hand tightens ever so slightly there, not hard but putting enough pressure to make your heart skip.
He continues his exploration of you with the tip of his nose. His nose drags along your jawline which makes you tint your head up in response to give him more access. Taking it as an invitation, Miguel continues and comes up to your ear, and gives you a little nibble there. You notice that your breathing has turned to panting. He continues to play with your ear by tracing with his lips. Goosebumps appear on your skin as your body grows warmer and warmer. Your head feels intoxicated and no thoughts filter into your head, only your senses are alive.
You let out a loud gasp when Miguel suddenly nuzzles into your exposed neck and you could feel him smiling against your skin. His hand around your neck tightens some more and it pulls you closer. He runs his lips softly over your skin, feathering light kisses wherever he pleases. To your surprise, you feel a nick of pain on your neck and you realize that he gave you a bite with his fangs. You feel his tongue come out again and lick up the bit of blood that escapes. A shiver of excitement travels down your body and you have to mentally shake yourself. This feels wrong but you don’t have the heart to tell him to stop.
“Come back to me.” You whisper again almost like a prayer this time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It’s many hours later, well into the night, and Jessica and Hobie came back to check on you. They’re standing side by side outside of the cage staring at the spectacle that’s in front of them. Jessica with her arms crossed in front of her chest and Hobie with his hands on his hips. “Huh. Ain’t that something?” Hobie asks.
In the middle of the cage are you and Miguel, sleeping soundly. You are curled into his front and he is curled around you like his limbs are vines. An arm is under your head, keeping you off the hard concrete floor, the other arm curled around you and wrapping up your back. His lower body is curled up tight against you. His body acting like a shield. You two fit perfectly together. Your hair was a mess and even from across the room, they could tell that your clothes were all rumpled.
“You think those two ever going figure it out?” Jessica asks.
“We’ll they haven’t so far. They wouldn’t be able to see what’s right in front of them even if a bus hit ‘em.”
She lets out a scoff of amusement, “I know. Remember when Y/N snapped at him and he was mopey for a whole week? God that was hell."
"Yeah? You shoulda seen how this one was sighing around while he was 'away'." Hobie shoots back at her with a chuckle.
"Anywho, I didn’t think the poison would’ve been that strong though. I was hoping to have this done in less than a week.”
“Eh, I might have given him a little more than we planned.”
“Of course you did,” she lets out a sigh, “Guess that explains why it took him so long to calm down. It should be wearing off soon right?”
“Yeah, day or so.”
“Good. Let’s see them try to deny their feelings after this.”
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#fanfiction#fanfic#imagine#writing#spiderman#spiderman fanfic#spiderman fanfiction#spiderman imagine#spiderman x reader#spider man: across the spider verse#across the spiderverse#miguel o'hara one shot#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara imagine#miguel o'hara#hobie spiderverse#hobie brown#hobie#miguel o'hara fanfiction#miguel o'hara fanfic#hobie fanfiction
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exposure (w. afton x reader)
note: as promised, it's here. also fun fact i have ocd and exposure therapy is one way used in my treatment. so i turned it into porn. enjoy! i will most definitely write a second chapter
pairing: steve raglan / william afton x reader
tags: corrupt therapist!william, innocent virgin!reader, manipulation, oral sex (f receiving)
your thoughts are interrupted as you hear a voice call your name. "hi," your therapist says, smiling kindly at you.
"hi steve." you return the smile and follow him to his office.
he opens the door for you and closes it behind him. you take a seat on the couch while he situates himself in the chair across from you. "so tell me, how are you doing? how are the meds working out?"
"well, um," you start apprehensively. "that's kinda why i'm here to see you so soon. it's been a month and i don't think they're working."
steve gives you a faux look of concern, as if to say "oh no" and clicks his tongue. of course the meds aren't working. he handed you a low dosage of tylenol, a pain medicine, in an orange bottle without a label. any smart person would've found that suspicious — even more suspicious considering the fact that he's a therapist, not a psychiatrist.
there's nothing wrong with you, either. you're just an innocent — rather dumb, in his opinion — girl with repressed sexual thoughts. thoughts he's been working his way up to helping you through them.
"and the ache in your stomach is still there?" steve asks, just to make sure.
you mumble an "mhm" embarrassed to look at him. he bites back a grin. "well, i have an idea."
you perk up at that. "ever heard of exposure therapy?" you shake your head 'no.' "it's a kind of therapeutic exercise that stresses the importance of facing the things that are giving you anxiety."
you stare at him blankly. of course you don't understand what he's saying. you're his dumb little girl, after all.
"tell me, what are the symptoms you're having?" he asks. he wants you to say it — say that the root of your problems stem from overwhelming horniness, just as you've danced around saying in every session you've had with him.
you look down at your shoes. "well, uhm, there's this... tingle in my stomach. and the thoughts i'm having are... concerning to me. it's like i'm obsessed with..."
you trail off and he raises an eyebrow. "...i guess what i'm trying to say is... i'm having really dirty thoughts. sometimes... they're about you.. or some men i see staring at me."
steve tries his hardest to keep up the facade of a concerned therapist, but he can't deny how your words are going straight to his dick. "i see."
"can you help me, steve?" you look at him with the most innocent, doe eyes he's ever seen.
he cocks his head and smiles at you. "of course i can." he refrains from calling you 'sweet girl' — too unprofessional.
steve takes his spot on the couch next to you. he helps you situate your self so that you're leaning back. "can you spread your legs for me? you might want to take off your shoes for the sake of your own comfort."
your brows furrow and you do what he says hesitantly. you're wearing a cute, pastel blue sundress. when you bring your knees to your chest, spread just like he asked, he reaches to fold your dress over and reveals your white cotton panties. he could come in his pants from the sight alone.
you make a resistant noise when he reaches for your panties. "no one's ever touched me there..."
he already knows that. he can tell. but still, something about being the first one to break open that sweet cunt of yours fills him with even more desire. "i'll be gentle, okay?" he promises.
you nod your head and allow him to slide your panties down your legs, leaving them stretched near the bottom of your calves purposefully. it provides as a small restraint to you in case you squirm away from his touch. just as he expected, your pussy is red, swollen, and shiny with your slick. poor thing, he thinks.
steve brings a hand to run up and down your cunt, wanting to collect the slick gathered there. you moan and he feels you shiver. "th-that feels funny..."
"yeah?" he says before thumbing your clit. you let out a high pitched whine. his eyes move towards your face, fascinated with the way your eyes are fluttering.
"does that feel good?" he inquires, earning a "mhm" from you.
he picks up the tempo, rubbing the sensitive nub in circles with the rough pad of his thumb. you try to buck against his hand he brings his free arm to sling over your waist, halting your movements. "this won't work if you're moving like that. just let it happen, okay?"
"okay..." you murmur. it's easier said than done.
he stops rubbing at you. he has an even better idea. he leans down on his knees and kisses the spot his finger was just on. you let out a shocked "ah!" much to his dismay.
"gonna have to keep quiet or i'll stop," he says sternly. you promptly bring a hand to cover your mouth.
steve licks long, slow stripes up your cunt, flattening his tongue to cover as much as he can, gaging your reaction. your legs squirm but you can't move them much from the restraint the placement of your panties provide. he takes your bud into his mouth and suck at your clit, humming a little and shaking his head. you squeal against your palm and he pulls away, slapping your cunt.
"i told you to fucking stay quiet! you'll get us both in trouble," he scolds. it's a side of him you've never seen before. usually he's just so sweet to you. however, despite that, his tone sends a tingle in your tummy. you nod in obedience and allow him to continue.
he sticks his tongue inside you and it takes everything within you not to scream. he knows what he's doing too. the best part for him is watching you struggle. you wriggle around, desperately grasping at the firm fabric of the couch. he pulls his tongue out and kisses your clit once more.
"s-steve, i feel.. weird," you tell him, moving your hand for a moment.
"'s okay, just let it go. you'll feel better," he promises gently. his mouth encloses around your clit again and he slurps, flicking it rapidly with his tongue.
"ah, ah." you throw your head back and do what he says: release.
"mmm," he hums, lapping up what you give him.
"that was nice," you say once you catch your breath. "i really liked that. what kind of therapy is that called again?'
"exposure therapy," he lies. "how are the thoughts? are they still there?'
"no," you say in astonishment as you notice. "it's like my mind is all foggy right now? will it stay like that?"
"temporarily, we'll have to explore this some more at your next appointment. i'll make sure to bring something you can take home with you whenever those thoughts are disturbing you, alright?"
"alright."
next appointment. your heart soars. and the thoughts are back once more.
#fnaf#fnaf smut#fnaf x reader#five nights at freddy's#william afton#steve raglan#william afton x reader#william afton smut
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Dew Drops
Author's Note: I wrote this on a whim today because I felt very emotional and was inspired by a song. I cried while writing this - quite a lot actually. I'll happily show and the translate the song later because it is quite perfect for Astarion (and Tav).
Summary: After Astarion has become free, he takes a moment to reflect and do something he'd never thought possible...
Pairing: Astarion / Tav (You)
Warnings: mentions of past trauma
Wordcount: 1,1k
Song (the inspiration for this piece): Tau - Herbert Grönemeyer
~~~
Just before the first sun rays were creeping over the roofs of Baldur’s Gate, Astarion got out of bed. Slowly, so he wouldn’t wake you up, still blissfully in your dreams beside him.
He watched you for a moment. Sitting on the edge of the bed. Watched how your chest was slowly rising and falling. Your hands softly curled up against your chest. Your lips soft and relaxed: neither curled into a smirk nor drawn down – just silently peaceful.
Astarion almost stayed there then, lost in you. The one person that had helped him come this far. The one who had so purely believed in him – that there was more, that he was more.
He let one finger slowly wander over your cheek – so featherlight you didn’t even stir in your sleep. The smile that crept onto his lips was genuine and bright and full with warmth and love.
Then he got up, got dressed. He wrote you a small note and then quietly left the room, left the inn.
Astarion purposefully wandered through the streets while most of the city was still asleep or just starting to blink its eyes. Purposefully, he went to a place he’d come to know like the back of his own hand.
This small little garden, hidden away in some backyard’s backyards – so hard to find it might have been forgotten by everyone – everyone, but the flowers and the vampire. The vampire who’d stumbled upon it sometime during his seemingly endless years, decades, centuries even of torment.
And this small little garden had become a tiny space of refuge for Astarion. A place of at least some peace and safety where he had spent so many nights when he had been able to steal away – sometimes for only a few minutes, sometimes almost whole nights.
And he’d sat there, comforted a little by the silvery moonlight and the twining plants and flowers – even though he never got to see their blossoms.
He found the way to the small space without any problem. It almost felt like he’d been there yesterday, although so much had changed since he’d last been here. Everything, in fact.
Not only had he broken the chains of his enslavement and walked in the sunlight again, but he had also found someone. Someone who’d promised him that he would not have to be alone ever again. And who had promised to help him carry the weight of the now broken, but still heavy chains – until hopefully someday he would be able to shake the shackles off as well.
Astarion entered the garden through an archway that led to the little safe haven. It still looked like he remembered: vines and bushes everywhere, deep and luscious green filling the whole space. The plants were full of still closed blossoms. Dew drops covered leaves and blooms and gave them an elegant silvery sheen.
The vampire let his fingertips softly wander over some of the plants and closed buds. Then he sat in his usual spot, a small rock at the back of the small rectangular space – directly across from the archway he had just entered through.
And then he waited.
He watched as the first golden rays of sunlight crept over the peaks of the stone walls. Like bright fingers they wandered over the plants, caressed them with their light and warmth. Softly brushing away the silver droplets of dew.
The first sunlight fell on Astarion who had awaited its arrival with anticipation, still wondering how lucky he could have been to feel it again. He had buried the hope so long ago.
He knew it wouldn’t last. So, he would make the most of it as long as he could.
He closed his eyes, completely giving himself to the feeling of the sun warming his pale skin. His lips opened with a little gasp. His chest shuddered with a ragged breath as he felt the tears well up. A single tear flowing over and leaving a wet trail on his cheek.
After a while he opened his eyes, hoping he hadn’t been too impatient.
But as he looked up and let his ruby gaze wander over the space his chest clenched painfully at the sight: the flowers had started to open up.
Offering him their whole palette of colours and beauty – the last dew drops glistening on them. The blossoms bowing to the warming sun, happy to show their beauty to him. Deep reds, almost golden yellow, wonderful blues and oranges. And in all shapes too: starlike chalices, frilly circles, cascading spheres.
He tried to take in everything at once as he looked at it with lips parted in wonder and astonishment. Observing every single combination possible. Wanting to imprint it all on his mind forever.
And as Astarion gazed upon this view he’d never dared to hope to take in one day, emotions overwhelmed him. And it was pleasantly painful, in all his beauty and bitter sweetness.
This, all this – it hurt so much. And it was so all hard, going on.
His chest was aching with sorrow and with joy as the single tear turned into a constant flowing and his whole body started shaking and shuddering.
The pain behind his sternum was so strong it almost felt as if his heart had finally started beating again.
It felt like most every emotion he had ever felt washed over him in this very moment – fear, hurt, guilt, grief. But also love, joy, compassion, confidence. All mixing together in a way that was barely tolerable, but most certainly meant one thing: he was alive.
And Astarion wept and wailed, lifting his head towards the comforting warmth of the rising sun as he cried. He doubled over as sobs shook through him. Cried out as tears ran over his face and his nose began to drop.
It hurt so much, all this.
But the pain meant he was still here. It meant he was free again. It meant he was ready and able to grasp life with both his hands and start living again. Even though it might not always be easy.
But he wouldn't be alone.
He looked up through his tears and a smile found its way on his lips as he looked upon the blooming flowers all around. He sobbed and he laughed as he saw the beauty in it. He felt alive.
And then you stepped through the archway and even the sight of all the flowers in the first sunlight could not compare. His companion through all of this and all to come.
You looked so worried the way you rushed over to Astarion, kneeling down in front of him. Wrapping your arms around him as he kept weeping and sobbing – not caring for how loud or unpleasant it might be. He let his head sink to your shoulder in unyielding gratefulness.
And you held onto each other until his sobs and tears slowly subsided.
You looked at him, cautiously asking if he was alright.
And Astarion looked up with a bright and broad smile, through the tears still remaining in his ruby eyes:
“Yes, my love. It’s just… it’s so beautiful to be alive.”
#astarion#astarion x tav#baldurs gate#baldurs gate 3#baldur's gate 3#baldur's gate iii#astarion x reader#astarion x mc#baldurs gate astarion#astarion x oc#astarion x you#fanfic#fanfiction#astarion ancunin#bg3 spoilers#tav#one shot#drabble#dew drops#bg3
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Hi can I request yan stalker x pervy male reader, where the reader purposefully sleeps naked, leave their window etc in the hopes thaf stalker yan would take pictures of them can the reader also have a habit of going into alleyways and spaces were there aren't alot of people in the hopes that stalker yan would grope or even just take them right there
Reader: oh no, I hope no big strong INCREDIBLY HORNY psychopaths are in this alleyway where I'm all alone and defenseless...ahem, I SAID-
Yandere Stalker x Pervy Reader
M yan x M reader
TW - general yandere behavior, stalking, NSFW
You've been dealing with a stalker for months now. He'd sneak into your room at night, take pictures of you, even steal your things sometimes. He'd send you "gifts" like wilted flowers, or pictures of you covered in what you were 90% sure was cum. He'd send sexy articles of clothing.
All this has been going on for months...and he hasn't even fucked you yet! Seriously, what more could you do?! You've been sleeping naked, leaving your windows open and all your doors unlocked, wearing the clothes he gave you, frequenting dangerous and isolated areas, everything! But not once have you woken up late at night to him even touching you!
Life was so unfair like that.
So tonight, you had a plan. You've gotten so much sleep lately, and had the day off, that tonight you wouldn't be very tired at all so you could wake up and finally confront him!
It took nearly an hour for him to finally get in, and you had to admit, he was discreet. You barely heard his soft steps on your floor. When he was finally close enough that you could feel his hot breath on your neck, your eyes shot open and you grabbed his arm.
He struggled, stopping once you asked why on earth he hasn't absolutely demolished your ass yet. Why he hasn't even groped you!
"Wait...what?" He was confused. You...wanted to have sex with him?
"Well why else would I sleep naked and leave my windows open?"
"I thought you were hot."
"Aww, thanks. Now if I'm so hot then fuck me. Come on, I'll be a good boy~" You teased. He was all flustered, it was pretty cute.
With the way you were laying, you were easily able to feel his bulge on your ass. It was definitely bigger than you expected. All the more exciting.
"I'll even-" You were cut off by his fingers being shoved down your throat.
"Don't speak. The only noise that I want to hear from you is moaning got it?"
You nodded, moaning around his fingers. He smirked before pulling them out and lubricating his cock with them.
As he did, you flipped over so your shoulders were on your bed and your ass in the air. He got behind you, smacking your ass before stretching your hole with his cock.
He wasted no time, pounding into you like an animal in heat. Exactly what you've been craving. You wanted him to fuck you until your mind went totally blank. You wanted your skin to be sticky with his cum. To be fucked absolutely raw.
"Good boy...taking this so well." He growled in your ear as your moans echoed off your walls.
He didn't let up for even a second, occasionally spanking you. Just until his red handprints were covering your ass. Maybe even a bruise or two.
His cock twitched inside you as he hit all the right spots to make you scream with pleasure. You could tell he was already getting close to climax, the first of the night. Thinking of it put you on the edge too.
He took a fistful of your hair tightly in his hand, holding your face down into your pillow, practically suffocating you. Finally, only after making sure to kindly jerk you off too, he unleashed his load deep inside you.
...only to start again after only 5 seconds.
Hope this was okay! Writer's block acted up like halfway through lol
#blarsh writes#yandere#yandere x reader#x reader#male yandere#male x reader#anon ask#yandere x you#yandere x darling#yandere x male darling#x male reader#male reader#male x male#male yandere x you#male yandere x male reader#male yandere x reader#male y/n
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doing the laundry
(cw: age gap 25/41; nsfw, mdni, smutty domesticity, könig likes panties a lot ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) (just like everything with panties i could think about), mutual mast*rbation, creampie)
König said he was gonna do some chores before we head out for dinner, but it seems like he's taking his sweet time. I go to look for him in this big ass house, running down to the cellar, where the washing machine and the dryer are. He said he'll do the laundry, so I'll probably find hi-
I peak my head in the door and my mind blanks, the words halting in my throat when I see him. Standing in front of the washing machine, his shorts pulled down, pooling around his knees. His hand is around his dick, moving up and down his length in hasty motions.
A piece of fabric between the fingers of his other hand. His nose buried deep in the soft purple, grunts dropping from his lips as he fucks his fist.
The frilly lace is giving it away. Those are my panties. My panties!
He is never shy about telling me how much he likes my taste, how much he loves having his face buried in my pussy. But this is a little different. My jaw drops, a gasp torn from my lips and he finally notices me. Dropping the hand from his face. Red hot blush staining his cheeks when he looks at me.
"Oh fuck, Liebes... I'm sorry.", he almost stammers, his mouth falling open, sucking in air.
Fuck. He looks so good. His chest peppered with dark hair heaving with his deep breaths. A stray strand of hair hanging over his face, sticking to his cheek. His abs taut, his dick hanging heavy between his legs, hard and red. The tip is leaking precum, wetting his hand, leaving stains on the sweatpants, as he tries to pull it up. Caught red-handed jerking off sniffing my panties.
As he is scrambling to get himself together, I take a few steps into the room, in his direction. Stopping his wrist when he tries to pull his sweatpants up even further.
"Don't stop on my account.", I tell him, getting on my tiptoes and pressing a kiss onto his jaw. He's still frozen in place almost like a statue, as I brush a strand of hair out of his face. Leaving him standing there as I make my way to the washing machine, lifting the hamper from its top and setting myself on the plastic covered surface.
Stupid heady desire rushing through my veins while I get rid of my jeans, purposefully keeping my panties on, a similar pair to the one he still got in his right hand. His eyes widen a little bit, the lustful stare meeting me while I sit there.
"I wanna watch.", I say, hoarse, almost soundlessly.
A little shiver shakes him, I can see it in the way his shoulders tense for just a moment.
"Okay." Taking one, two steps back until his back hits the wall, his hand dropping to his dick again as he leans back. This time it's the one holding my panties, the lace wrapping around his girth while he slowly starts to jerk off, his eyes meeting mine, a little smirk playing around his lips.
It’s not the first time seeing him play with himself, but still…
Mesmerized I watch him, biting my lip. I lean back too, propping myself up on my arm, and lift my legs up, positioning them at the edge and dropping my knees to the side. Showing off the panties I'm wearing right now, the fabric over my pussy already a little damp. Seeing him like that got me worked up a bit...
My hand moves down my body until it's between my legs, the fingertips brushing over the wet lace and I can't help but moan, the first contact with my clit - even through the fabric - making me squirm.
He falters a little bit, his eyes intently on my fingers, his own hand stopping for a moment before picking up speed again. He spits, down at his own dick, wetting it a little more, while gripping tighter.
My strokes get needier, feeling the wetness seep into the fabric as I start to rub myself, my hips bucking into my hand and I can’t help the sounds I’m making. Feeling the roughness of the lace against the sensitive skin, and the growing slick underneath.
As I pull the fabric to the side, he sighs. “Hmm, yes, stuff yourself, Hexe.”, the little order dropping from his lips.
And I’m more than happy to oblige, my middlefinger slipping into me. Adding another finger quickly, sighing as I try to reach deeper. Giving him full view of how I’m fingering myself, a little grin stalking onto my face, moans getting pulled from me as I push inside me, over and over again.
The simmering heat in his gaze feels like soft touches all over my body while he fucks his fist, his brows pulling together, his eyes glazing over as his jaw goes slack, a telltale sign that he is close.
"Fuck, g'na come.", he groans, his hand moving faster up and down his shaft, squeezing the tip with every pass.
"Not yet.", I tell him harshly, and he lets go of his dick, almost surprisinfly obedient. Breathing heavily, but just looking at me, his eyes narrowing, the lids droopy.
"Come here.", I mouth, making a 'come hither'- motion with my fingers, ignoring the wetness on them, and he follows in an instant.
"Yes, Ma'm."
Just two strides and his thighs almost collide with the washing machine, his dick hanging between us as he props himself up with one arm and leans forward.
I take the panties from his grasp, telling him "Open up." and he drops his jaw without hesitation. I love it when he takes charge, doing me however he likes to, but seeing the big hulking man just do everything I tell him to, also does things to me.
The look on his face, when I push my panties into his mouth, his eyes rolling back, groaning, sends another shiver over me. His hips rut forward, the tip of his dick nudging against my pussy, against the panties I'm still wearing, which only makes him groan more, the sounds getting muffled by my undies.
I chuckle a little, pressing a tiny kiss to his nose, before I pull the already soaked fabric to the side. He doesn't wait another second, pushing into me, and the sudden stretch pulls a loud whine from my lips. My hands shoot out to hold onto him, my fingertips digging into his shoulders as he grips the top of the washing machine and starts to fuck me. Deep hard thrusts, pushing me into the surface, and I desperately try to meet his movements, try not to get pushed off the surface.
He never holds back his sounds, his grunts and deep moans intermingling with mine when he is fucking me, but with the impromptu gag they get stifled in the most delicious way. Sounding a bit more desperate too. My own sounds reverberate off the walls, the small cellar room creating an echo of my moans, the slapping of skin against skin, the rattling of the machine underneath me as König's thrusts shake it.
The tip of his dick reaching deep inside me, his girth stretching me when he pushes balls-deep.
I reposition myself, my legs up high, ignoring the hardness of the surface beneath my butt. Leaning further back and my feet dangling over his shoulders as my knees get pushed into my front. The change of angle has me lose my mind, filling me up just right.
“Yes, yes, just like-”, I plead, my eyebrows pulled up, and my eyes going wide, the words getting stuck in my throat. I’m desperately hanging onto him, my fingernails digging into his biceps, leaving red marks - something he won’t mind at all - while I come. Making a mess on his lap, wetting the panties I'm still wearing even more.
König doesn’t stop, pushing my legs further back, his hands grabbing the plush of my thighs while he sinks into my pussy, his long hair whipping back and forth, the soft strands brushing over naked arms and shoulders. His eyes roll back, the expression on his face mirroring the one from before, when he had his nose buried in my panties, and he comes as well, his upper body shaking hard, the plastic surface aching as his hands press into it.
I can only stare at him, my mouth fallen open, my eyes fixed on him. The groan leaving his throat, getting caught in the fabric of my panties, sends a tingle down my spine.
His hips stutter forward, his dick pumping into me, sticky cum spurting inside me, spilling over my pussy and panties. He slows down, pushing into me one last time, slick dripping out of me.
He’s pulling back, softly caressing my thighs where his fingertips left little bruises with how hard he was grabbing me, lowering gently.
I jump from the washing machine, landing on the floor, grinning up at König. He’s still gagged, his chest heaving with heavy breaths. I reach up and pull my panties from his mouth, soaked in his spit, and he catches my wrist. Pressing a few soft kisses to it, and the back of my hand. When he lets go, I toss the little piece of fabric into the hamper.
“Thank you, Liebes.”, he hums, smiling down at me, drowsiness dropping his lids and blush staining his cheeks.
“Oh, you’re so very welcome, Sir.”, I tell him, getting on my tiptoes and press a kiss to his lips while he pulls up his shorts.
Grabbing the waistband of my panties, I pull them down instead, the damp fabric clinging to me for a moment, and then I put them in his pocket, patting it, gesturing him with a little wink, that those were his now. As he seemed to like them so much.
He grumbles something in German, pulling me against him again, capturing my mouth in a kiss. A long and sweet one that has me melt against him.
“Shower and then going out to dinner?”, he suggests, pressing me against his sweat slick chest, his arm coming around me. “I’ll do the laundry later.”, grinning down at me apologetically. Like I ever could be mad at him when his little distraction lead to some hot and kinky sex.
"Yes, cause that was my last washed pair of undies.", I tell him, with a sly grin and a sidelook at the basket full of dirty clothes. "Seems like I need to take a page from your book and go commando for once."
He groans, the sound almost turning to a little growl. "You're killing me, Hexe."
I giggle. "Just pray that I don't pick out my one short dress today...", I tease him.
He catches my chin, making me look up at him as he leans down, coming closer and closer. "Oh, quite the contrary.", he drawls, his signature smirk stalking onto his face. "I pray that you wear that one cause I like it. And you're still gonna be a good girl and behave."
My mouth drops open, sucking in a breath as he presses a kiss to my lips which is a threat and a promise at the same time. He lets go of me, and I grin up at him, before I back away, still holding his gaze.
"We'll see...", I say, dashing away through the door, but his hand still lands on my butt in a loud spank. I laugh as I keep running, up the stairs.
“Can’t catch meeee.”, I shout over my shoulder which always does the trick. I’m scooped up within seconds, his strong arms lifting me up.
“If you keep this up, we’re never gonna catch the reservation…”, he grumbles, but I see the mischief flashing in his eyes.
My answer is a giggle, my hand tangling in his hair, grabbing the long strands between my fingers, pressing kiss after kiss to the side of his face.
~ More in the Masterlist ~
#metalhead!könig#spending time with mh!k#könig#könig cod#könig mw2#konig#konig cod#konig mw2#könig fanfiction#cod mw2 smut#könig smut#konig smut#cod smut#könig x reader#tw: age gap
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The Mentor pt.3
Finnick Odair x Reader
Summary: A morning chat at the train station proves very revealing for you and Finnick.
Warnings: mention of forced prostitution and mild self-harm
part two | part four
The marble steps you sit on are practically ice, and the cold seeps quickly through your pants. The train station is entirely empty, and you sit outside of it looking out at the city.
Knees up to your chest, you take a deep breath. The roses you clutch in your icy fingers seem to taunt you, and once you look at them, you can't pull your eyes away. A beautiful gift belying your tragic fate.
You set all but one down beside you, then start to pick at its petals. Completely transfixed, you don't even hear the sounds of someone approaching until you drop the last petal.
"What'd you land on?"
The words break your focus, and you quickly gaze up to find who interrupted you. Finnick interprets your gaze as a confused one and elaborates, "Loves you/loves you not?"
That's not why you were picking the petals, but if you had been asking the flower, it would've been about him. The thought is embarrassing, so you give a half-hearted shrug and look away.
"Well, I got these for you," he holds out a small, far more rustic bouquet. Violets. "But it seems like someone's beaten me to the punch." What a cruel metaphor. Snow blocking your chances yet again. Standing in between you and a real life with real connections. Soon enough, you won't be real. What'll be left when you run out of choices you can make for yourself?
For now, you put the roses down anyway. The breath from your melancholy laugh is visible in the crisp morning air. "Thanks," you say, holding your hand out to accept the flowers. They remind you of home. A patch of them grew out in the field behind the house you grew up in. Your fingers brush over his as you accept the bouquet.
He jolts, "You're freezing!" Dropping down next to you on the steps, he removes the violets from your grasp and rests them in the small space between you. You follow the purple flowers with your eyes as he swiftly takes your hands in his own, attempting to warm them. "Do you purposefully torture your hands?"
You don't answer, still looking at the flowers he brought you. Finnick sighs, "You take such good care of Darla. Do you even bother looking after yourself?"
"What's the point?" Your heart hurts. As much as he hates it, he doesn't have a reply to that. He often wonders the same.
"How will you hold all the flowers you're collecting if your fingers freeze off?" He tries for lighthearted, but you wince. Instantly, he frowns. While typically, your replies to him are short, bordering on rude, they're always spirited. You seemed upset before he left you at the party last night, but now you seem disheveled. Like you hadn't had a wink of sleep.
Clearly, he's caught you in one of those moments. All the victors have them, but usually in private. He's not keen to leave you, though.
"Who gave you the roses?" He ventures, suddenly getting a sickening feeling. He's not expecting a real response, necessarily, but a 'wouldn't you like to know' would ease his anxiety.
You pick up the heavily perfumed flowers, "Oh, these? A gift, I suspect. I made someone very happy last night, and I'm sure I'll be doing it more often," you say bitterly before you toss them back down. Your voice comes out small, though, like you haven't built your armor thick enough to face this yet.
"From the office of the President?" It's not even a question. He already knows. Your face reveals your surprise. "I got a similar congratulatory present when I made my first deal." While he figured out that Snow had you in a similar position, it's clear you suspected nothing of the sort when it came to him. As you look into his eyes, he hopes you're getting what he's trying to convey. That the two of you are the same. And you can finally, finally, be honest.
"It was more of a negotiation," you nod, holding his eyes. "Not my first deal."
"I figured," he says.
You laugh sourly, "Is it easy to tell that I'm a cheap whore?"
"Don't sell yourself short," he scolds, "you're a very expensive whore." He almost worries it won't go over well when you snort and launch into the freest laugh he's heard in his life. Thank God someone appreciates his humor- Mags hates these jokes. He's got plenty more of them, and will definitely use them on you now that he knows they'll land.
"Thank you for the vote of confidence," you reply, tongue-in-cheek. Finnick can tell by your genuine grin, however, that you appreciated the joke.
"You're welcome," he nods, "You know, I've considered abandoning prostitution in favor of stand-up comedy."
Somehow your grin grows wider, "Really?"
"Really," he confirms, "I just have to perfect my material before I pitch it to the big man." You nod sagely, entertaining his bit. "He might just keel over in laughter," Finnick suggests.
You lean in a bit, "Think he'll keel over dead?"
"Here's hoping!" He leans in, too, sending you a flashy smile. You laugh again and look back out at the city. An amicable silence falls between the two of you, and you enjoy it a bit before breaking it.
"I met with him before the taping to tell him our deal was off. My nana died during Darla's games, so I thought he had nothing to hold over my head anymore. Then, at the party, our escort told me that Snow wanted everyone to get to know her. And when I saw her talking to-" you cut yourself off, but he understands. Some of them are too difficult to even think about. "I marched into his house and told him I'd take on twice the clients if it meant Darla would never see one." Finnick's breath catches in his throat for a second.
"So... a reminder of my renewed imprisonment," you pick the white roses up again and wave them sarcastically.
Finnick snatches them from your hands and launches them far across the steps with a firm throw. They scatter and tumble across the white marble. The action is so unexpected that another laugh bubbles out from you.
"I think you're incredibly brave," he declares, looking you right in the eye. "You might be the only victor worthy of the title."
"No," you're quick to insist. "That's Darla. She's earned her peace."
"You haven't stopped to think that you might've too?"
You shake your head, "But I haven't. I don't think I could ever atone for what I've done- no matter how hard I try." His brows furrow, finding your words worrisome.
Catching his look, you elaborate, "Every visit to Mrs. Montgomery's classroom, the parks I design, the gardens I dedicate, my broadcast segments- they're all born of guilt!" You admit, getting choked up, "It's my way of saying sorry. Sorry for fucking your husband, even though he paid to fuck me, and I wanted to die each time he did it. Sorry for being a plague upon the Earth, here's something to make it better. Sorry for-" You only notice you'd been aggressively scratching the back of your hand when Finnick grabs your wrist. It cuts off your rambling and prevents you from hurting yourself anymore.
"Why don't you talk to someone instead of torturing yourself?" He sounds pained.
“Who would I talk to?” You shrug, swiping at a stray tear.
“That was… supposed to be an offer,” he winces.
“Oh?" you blink at him.
“I’m really just a call away,” he nods, awkwardly rubbing the back of his head.
“Right,” you say, still sounding a little unsure. You blink a few times, averting your gaze and thinking it over.
“I know you think I’m gorgeous, but I’m sure it’ll be less of an obstacle for you over the phone,” he jokes.
You turn toward him slowly, eyes wide, “she didn’t.”
“She did,” he smirks at you.
You hit him firmly in the gut, and he lets out a heavy breath as he curls inward. He’s glad you’re feeling up to your usual abrasiveness.
You’ve already moved from your spot and are heading toward the station. He stumbles up after you.
You stop suddenly. Not that you were really going anywhere. The train for Ten won’t leave without Darla and Darla is chronically late. He nearly runs right into your back, and you see him struggle to regain his balance as you whip around.
He’s much closer than you thought, and you have to take a small step back. “What’s your number?”
“What?” He asks, reeling from the near-collision.
“How am I supposed to call if I don’t have your number?” You ask, and his eyebrows raise at the question. You totally skipped the ‘yes, thank you, what a great idea,’ part he’d been hoping for. But, he’ll take what he can get. He rattles off the number in an instant.
“Are you going to remember that?” He asks.
You nod noncommittally, “We’ll see.” The exasperated look on his face pulls another grin from you. He doesn't fight the smile off his face when he sees yours.
A car door slam breaks your extended eye contact. The other District Ten mentor breezes right past you and Finnick, clearly annoyed at being up so early. You know him well enough to know he’s going right back to bed on this train.
Darla, however, looks like hell-warmed over. “What the fuck happened to you?”
“Shhhhh,” she holds a finger to her lips, the other clutching her head. Your expression drops as you take in her appearance.
“Are you hungover?!” You try to steal her dark sunglasses, but she’s too quick.
“Whatever, Mom,” she grumbles, “hurry up and kiss your boyfriend goodbye so we can leave.” She trudges further into the station, where a train is inevitably waiting for you. Your eyes go wide in embarrassment.
“Darla!” You yell, and she winces at the noise.
Finnick chuckles, “What happened to moderation?” She throws him the finger, earning further laughter.
You shake your head at her behavior, and when you turn back to Finnick you find he’s already looking at you. “What?”
“Nothing,” he shrugs, acting innocent. “Oh wait,” he snaps and doubles back to grab the flowers he arrived with. “You almost forgot these.”
You shake your head at him, smiling, “Can’t have that can we?”
“Safe travels,” he nods at you, turning to go. He makes it a few paces before you call out after him.
“Finnick,” he quickly turns at the sound of his name. When you recite his number back a surprised grin lights up his features. “The uh- the phone works both ways, you know. I’m not a bad listener.”
“Noted,” he nods, smiling. You smile back at him, a genuine one, and it makes you look younger. A loud call of your name from a train within the station makes the both of you laugh.
“Bye, Finnick,” you smile at him, giving a cute little wave. He returns it readily.
And he thought he was in trouble before.
--------------------------------------------------
@emerald-09
I also didn't really edit this one, but I think I like how it turned out? I'm not sure if I'll write more for this mini-universe since I have a few other Finnick ideas but we'll see
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