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hermionewrites · 7 months

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femme fatale

summary: a morally dubious personal investigator takes a holiday to virginia as she had heard that aaron hotchner was in witsec. he was not.

warnings: MDNI!!!!! blowjobs, slight d/s dynamic, slight rough play, open ending.

a/n: This is my first smut like work! so please give me the benefit of doubt as i know i need to improve lol. Hope you enjoyed!! Happy reading <3 SEND ME REQUESTS PLEASE. I know aaron doesn’t come back after witsec but for the sake of plot, he does.

word count: 3062

In the past twelve years you had been everywhere in the world. Paris, London, Milan, Sydney, Nigeria, Moscow, and in forty nine of the fifty states. Every one held a different passport and a different name and accent. There was one state, however, you avoided like the plague. Virginia. Named after the virgin queen, birth place of the first president and home to Quantico, the FBI office and unit chief of the BAU, Aaron Hotchner.

Through the grapevine of criminal connections, you had heard that he had been pushed into WITSEC by Mr Scratch. Him and his son were in Michigan, living a normal life. So you decided to make your way to Virginia.

Your week was spent going around to all the tourist attractions, you had hazy memories of. The Smithsonian, the national gallery of art, and the Lincoln memorial but steering clear of the Capitol. Too risky. Finally, the nightlife.

Holidays in your line of work were rare and short. A night out in a bar, for fun and not information on a suspect was even rarer. You were going out for fun, to get drunk and find someone to pull back into your cheap motel before you were back on the road again. Lightly curled hair twisted around your face, framing it and highlighting the dark, sultry makeup that was precisely painted onto your skin. Dark liner pulling attention to your eyes and a deep red lipstick, surely to leave a mark.

The dress was black, tight, showing everything you had off. It fell around mid thighs that were covered in a silky black stocking that ran down to your feet that were held in expensive black heels. The red bottoms were unmistakable and were a subtle hint at your wealth, steering all of the right people your way.

You’d looked up the bars in the immediate vicinity by your motel. One was a club, that was too young for you, it would be full of college kids looking to score with an older woman. The other was one an older bar with a snooker table and a dart board. This one was too old, filled with older men. The one you’d decided on was called O’keefes. It had a dart board and a moderately sized dance floor. It was the perfect medley between young and old.

The sign outside was glowing red, lighting up the immediate area. Brown wooden doors had little glass windows and you could see the inside was dark with red accent lights, matching the sign in the front. Pushing open the doors, you immediately make your way to the bar and do a scan of the place. The bar was in the middle of the room in a square shape, you sit with your back to the door.

“Can I get a gin and tonic please.” You ask, in a strong french accent, the bartender and she nods, whisking away to go and mix your drink.

“I’ll pay.” A voice says from behind you and you turn around. He’s a blonde, tall, muscular man. “You’re French?” He asks and sits on the red bar stool next to you while nodding to the bartender for a beer.

“Yes, I’m on a vacation?” You say, feigning pauses between your words, giving the impression of changing your dialect to American. “It’s fun here.” You smile at him and rest your chin in your hand.

“Ah I was born here, lived here my whole life.” He tells you and grabs your drinks off of the bartender and you sit and begin to chat. “What do you do for work?”

“I’m an accountant. What about you?” You ask him, not breaking your eyes from his, they were bright blue even in the red light. Not your usual type but he would do.

“I’m a gym instructor.” He comments and subtly flexes. Your toes curl in cringe as he does this but you grit your teeth and make a face of recognition.

“That makes sense, you’re very” You look down and sigh, pretending to think of the word. Looking up you make a grunting noise. You look down again, coyly this time.

“Muscular?” He offers and you make an ‘o’ with your mouth and nod at him. “Yes, I go to the gym every day. I do all sorts of things.” Immediately you had regretted talking to this man. He started to go on and on about all the types of workouts and weights and how long and what muscles it works.

He talked your ear off. He didn’t stop. Your eyes roam around the room, watching all of the other people and they’re conversations that seemed miles more interesting. There was a blonde woman and a bald man having the time of their lives on the dance floor, clearly drunk out of their minds, they looked familiar. The red light bounced around the room and your eyes follow it, taking you on a journey of people watching.

There was another couple, this time in a booth, snogging each others face off. They looked absolutely enamoured with each other. Her hands were in his hair and his hands were on her hips.

Your eyes followed the bouncing light to a round table in the corner of the room. There was a group of five people all laughing and drinking, pointing at the people on the dance floor from a second ago. They were close friends. In the background of your thoughts was the blonde man, still rambling on about the gym and being buff.

The light took your eyes to the door of the men’s bathroom as someone stood out of the doorway. His shoes were black leather oxfords, polished and shining. Black slacks that were perfectly tailored and were tight around his thighs. The same could be said for his white long sleeved shirt, tight across his chest with two buttons undone. A small amount of chest hair peeking out in the gap. Now he was more your type. You looked up to his face to study it.

Your heart drops to your stomach as you take him in. The stool squeaks as you stand up from it quickly and the two of you just stare at each other. You’d also realise you’d walked into a bar full of FBI agents and the one who disliked you the most was looking directly after you. Glancing over to the table of the large group of people you had just observed.

“I am not feeling to well, I have to go.” You say, leaning down to the man, who you didn’t know the name of and watched him look confused. “The gin didn’t sit with me. Goodbye.” You put your hand on his shoulder and grab his beer which he hadn’t touched yet.

You had never been so glad to sit near the door. The split second decision to bolt out of the door was risky. Running out of the bar, you rip the door open and made your way onto the Virginian streets. First mistake, wearing heels. Being a PI provided you with a generous amount of funds. However, expensive heels this high we’re for being walked down the the street in the arm of someone. Not pelting it down paved streets, you already regretted your choice to go out tonight.

Second mistake, coming to Virginia in the first place. You heard the bar door open again and he ran through it, bolting after you. He had the upper hand here, knowing the streets. Quickly, you run into the back alley’s. You didn’t stop running, checking the street signs as you ran. Desperate to get back to your motel, you don’t look back once.

Guessing wasn’t your strong point, you think as you randomly pick another alley to run through, hoping to find some familiarity. All of them started to look the same, maybe you’d already been here, or maybe it was the panic. There was a T shaped turn, you could either go straight foreword or turn right in a couple yards. You run straight foreword.

Suddenly, as you pass the right turn you are slammed against the brick wall. You feel the backs of your tights get stuck to the brick and rip and you wince.

“You prick.” You groan and pull your hands up to shove him off of you. “What you do that for?” Bending down you bring your hands to your knees and puff for breath.

“What job are you on?” He says, with his interrogator voice. Eyebrows creased and shoulders squared to make himself look more threatening.

“I’m not on a job, Hotch.” You tell him and stand up straight, looking at this face close up for the first time in a while. Your mind short circuits for a second as you contain yourself. “You have a beard.”

“You’re always on a job.” He states, clearly not believing you.

“I’m on holiday!” You exclaim, throwing your hands up into the air. “You.” Dragging out the word you point at him. “Are supposed to be in witness protection.”

“How’d you know that?” He asks, confused. He takes a step forward, his chest rising and falling.

“Everyone knew?” You roll your eyes at him. “You had to disappear because of Scratch, you were in Maine.” You shrug. “Now can I please, go back to my motel.”

“No.” He says and takes another step foreword. “You’re a murderer.” He states. “I’ll walk you.”

“Alleged, you have no evidence.” You answer quickly, “You have a bias against me. I’m innocent.” You sigh and start to walk away from him. “We can’t be seen together.”

“I know.” You look at him confused. “To all of those things. But it’s dark, I’ll walk you.” He jogs to catch up to you and the two of you walk at a leisurely pace in the direction of your motel. It’s silent for a while and you take in the streets. “You’re British?” He questions, turning toward you.

“I assumed you knew, all these years.” You laugh slightly. “You have reading glasses yet?” You joke. He doesn’t find it funny. “One day, you’ll laugh.” The silence comes up once again, you swing your arms back and forth. “What did you tell your friends?”

“That I had to go.” He states and you turn into the street of dodgy motels. “Why did you mention my beard?” He asks as he walks you to the door. You turn the key you had in your bra, and lean against the open door way.

“It suits you, you look fit.” You shrug and smile. His face doesn’t move. “It’s a compliment, accept it.” You roll your eyes again and scoff. “You want to come in?” He shakes his head and goes to open his mouth but you interrupt.

“I don’t want to fuck. Calm down.” You walk into your room and wait for him to follow. “Close the door.” You hear it click closed. “It wouldn’t be a good idea for us to have sex again anyway.”

“Why?” He says with a strong breath out of his nose.

“You might get attached.” You smirk at him and he finally laughs. It’s a deep baritone, but silky like honey, you wanted to drown in it. “Also because I think someone knows we’re friends.” You sit down on your bed and pull your red bottoms and frown at the scuffed paint. You look up to him as you peel the ripped tights away from your legs, leaving you in your dress.

“What do you mean?” He asks and you rummage through your bag, pulling out a white envelope. You toss it towards him and watch him pull out pictures of you from vulnerable times throughout the years. “Are these not yours?”

“No, my blackmail is in a safe.” You give him a smile and lean back. “I was served them, like I was being sued.” You explain. “I’m trying to find who’s they are, don’t worry.”

“I will lose my job, if these get out.” He says flicking through them again.

“I know. They won’t.” You assure him and take the photos back, taking them back and sliding them into the envelope. The air in the room feels thick and you bury them back into the bottom of the bag. The dynamic was strange. He didn’t like you because he thought you were a murderer. You didn’t like him because he thought you were a murderer. However, you couldn’t deny the tension the two of you had. You had kept your meetings short for this exact reason, the room heating up. You look up and meet his brown eyes.

“Is that all your things?” He asks and you nod. “It’s not a lot.” He states and stands up rigidly straight.

“I don’t live anywhere for more than a month.” Zipping your bag shut. “I close my cases quickly. You can sit down.”

He waves his hand dismissively. “I should go.” You nod and watch him turn to the door and take two long steps towards it. You never said goodbye. This time though, he hesitated to twist the door knob.

“One more time, couldn’t hurt.” You stand up and the two of you meet half way, wrapping around each other. Your lips hit his neck and you start to suck gently while simultaneously unbuttoning the buttons on his shirt. Your hands dive into the hair on his chest and generally feel him up through the open shirt. “You been working out?”

“Occasionally.” He says nonchalantly as your hands wander south. Down to his toned stomach and your fingers fiddle with the button on his slacks. You look up at him for permission and he nods. Slowly, you use both hands to unbutton them and teasingly pull down the zip. “Hurry up.” He grits and your hand slides inside the trousers but stay over his boxers. You felt him get hard in your hand.

He leans down to your neck and licks up to your ear and whispers. “Get on your knees for me.” You do exactly as your told and lower yourself down to the carpet.

“You’re so lucky you’re hot, this carpet is gross.” You say up to him and pull his black slacks down to his ankles. His mouth perks up at the compliment. You learn on the backs of your feet and wait. Your fingers trail up and down his thigh. He pulls down his boxers and that was a sight you missed.

Just looking at Aaron Hotchner, every one could tell he wasn’t small, in any shape of form. His build was big, his chest was big, his hands were big, you could go on. His dick was certainly big, you observe as he holds it close to your face. “Look up at me.” He instructs and you instantly do what he says.

You didn’t know what view you preferred. On one hand, his dick was pretty. On the other, he had grown a beard out while in WITSEC. They were both equal.

“Can I?” You ask, swiping your tongue over your lip but he cuts you off.

“Patience.” He states sternly. He liked to make you wait. You roll your eyes again but do sit there patiently. He pulls you gently from the back of your head closer to him. You furrow your eyebrows at him, wondering what he was doing. An uncontrollable red flush crawls up your skin as it dawned on you, he was measuring up to your face. Dirty man. He smirks and leans back, “Go ahead.” He finally says and you sigh in relief.

“Patience is not one of my strongest virtues.” You snark and lean in, taking a long, slow lick up his length. In the past few years, you had forgotten what he had tasted like, you didn’t want to forget again. Something you’d never forget was the noise he would make when you finally took him into your mouth.

That groan was music to your ears, a symphony that makes you blush. He’s heavy and warm on your tongue. You look up at him through your eyelashes and his eyes are screwed shut as he pants. Hallowing your cheeks, you slowly bob your head along him.

“Nor is it mine.” He moans out and runs his fingers into your hair. “Can I?” He strokes your hair and you nod, mouth still full of his cock. “Use your words.” He commands and smiles down at you as you pull off of him.

“Yes, you can.” You confirm and he grabs the back of your hair in a fist. He then guides you down on him again, but deeper than before almost breaching your throats and you couldn’t stop yourself from groaning, vibrating on him and the grip on your hair tightens slightly. “Christ.” You feel the leg muscles you have gripped in your hands twitch as he moves his hips forward to meet your movements.

The frequent small spurts of salty taste into your mouth signalled that he was getting closer to the edge. You try not to smirk and you take him deeper and he throws his head back with a throaty groan.

“I’m not going to last long.” He grits his teeth together and his legs twitch again, gripping onto the back of your head as you control your breathing through your nose.

He calls out your name, a word he rarely even whispers. It falls out of his lips as he finishes into yours.

He pulls out of your throat and you swallow, standing up and then perching on the edge of your bed. “Let me pay you back.” He says and takes steps towards your, lips landing on your neck. A soft moan leaves your mouth. But suddenly, the two of you are ripped apart by the phone ringing. He pulls away and answers, it’s not work, you can tell by his softer than usual tone.

“I’ve got to go.” He awkwardly says, pulling his trousers back up and buttoning his shirt. “It’s my son, Jack, he’s ill.” He grabs his wallet that had fallen on the floor in the chaos. “I’ll see you soon.” You follow him to the creaky door to see him out.

“No, you won’t.” He begins to walk away into the dark of the night. “Goodbye Aaron!” You call out into the darkness as he disappears.

#criminal minds #fanfic #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #ficlet #fluff #oneshot #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner smut #smut #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader smut #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotch smut #first smut #hope you enjoy!!!

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floorbe · 4 months

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"Mornings Apart" [Korekiyo Shinguji x Fem!Reader]

**Commission for @jesseapples !**

Summary: Korekiyo has been off in the field researching for the past few weeks. You two make it a habit to call frequently, but it's hard not to miss each other more... intimately, as well.

Warning(s): none really?? mutual "mowing the grass", phone s/x, dirty talk

A/N: Hope you enjoy!! I've missed writing my fav v3 lad lol

Word count: ~1.9k

The sharp, familiar chime of your phone rang out from its place on your bed. You quickly abandoned your night routine, rushing out of the bathroom and towards the ringing. Your cheeks were still speckled with drops of water from the shower, eyelashes clumped together and glimmering in the dim lighting of your room. You were, thankfully, already dressed, though the cold droplets still ran down your neck and soaked into the neck of the fabric.

“Shit, shit–!” you cursed softly as you nearly tripped over a stray shoe, whirling away from the hazard to hastily stumble towards your bed. You hastily wiped the palms of your hands against your bottoms to dry your hands, snatching the phone from your bed. You were sure your face lit up at the familiar picture of Korekiyo on the screen, a swell of excitement forming in your chest.

“Kore?” you called his name hesitantly as the camera connected, still loading.

“Ah, there you are, dear,” his smooth voice flowed through the phone as his camera finally connected, revealing his rumpled morning hair and drooping eyelids from his recent sleep. You grinned at the sight, taking in the rarer sight of him disheveled before his voice sounded again, “Just out of the shower, I presume?”

Just as you processed his words, another cool drop of water slipped from your cheek down your neck. You laughed a bit, running a hand through your hair as you responded, “Oh! Yeah, you caught me mid night routine.”

“Ah, apologies, love; however, if I may, you look… divine right now,” his voice dropped easily into a low purr, his head tilting as his gaze trailed over your features appreciatively.

The compliment sent a rush of heat through your form and you could feel warmth already filling your cheeks. You bit your lip with a chuckle, waving him off with a flustered grin, “Oh my God, stop–”

“And miss seeing you so flustered? Never, dear,” he retorted easily. You could almost hear the smug look on his face as he watched you, trailing a hand through his hair, “Mm, speaking of…”

You paused, humming curiously as you turned your attention back to the screen. His camera had shifted slightly, the rustling of fabric muffling his microphone. He was wearing a thin pajama shirt, hair still ruffled from his sleep moments ago. You tilted your head as you heard his smooth chuckle over the receiver.

“You see, dear, I have a bit of a… problem,” he purred, eyelids drooping invitingly as the camera tilted down slightly. You barely saw the tip of the tent in his pants before he moved the camera back up to his face with a fake gasp, eyes widened in mock embarrassment. “Oh my! I sincerely apologize, my love… your beauty entrances me, love. It’s difficult to… control myself,” his voice trailed into a lower tone, inspecting your expression as he spoke.

Your jaw dropped open as you processed what you’d just seen, eyes widening as heat inflamed your cheeks. “Wh– K-Kore–” you sputtered, covering your face with your hands as he chuckled.

“Forgive me, dearest, truly… I simply can’t help myself when you answer looking as delectable as you do,” he sighed innocently, head tilted, “...Especially after the dream that plagued me last night.”

You paused, fingers slipping down your cheeks to peek at the screen, “...Dream?”

The brief crinkle of his eyes showed satisfaction at you taking the bait, and he sighed innocently once more before resting his cheek on his palm. “Oh, yes. The most wonderful dream, Y/N,” he murmured, “Are you intrigued?”

You bit your lip beneath your palms, feeling your chest tighten at the glint in his eyes. A familiar heat had already started to throb in your core, making you shift slightly to ease the persistent beat. Your words caught in your throat, torn between sputtering in a flustered manner and actually answering his question. Apparently you’d taken too long, for he cleared his throat gently to grab your attention once more.

When your gaze flicked back to him, his expression (or what you could see of it) was considerably softer, eyebrows pulling up to brighten his expression, “Have I overstepped? I apologize–”

“No!” you cut him off, watching as his eyebrows twitched up in surprise before you continued, “Um– I–... tell me.” You averted your gaze briefly, chewing on the inside of your lip.

His expression changed immediately, mask stretching with the grin hidden behind the fabric as he chuckled, “Very well, then. Mm… where to start?” He tapped his chin with his finger in mock thought, “Ah, yes… Well, my love, I believe it began when I walked into your room and you were beautifully wrapped in the deepest red silk, wound carefully around your wrists, your ankles, your gorgeous breasts...”

You swallowed hard, heart racing as his melodic voice slowly painted a picture for you. He trailed off once he saw your expression, eyes crinkling in amusement as you encouraged him onward, “...And then?”

“And then,” he continued, lowering the camera ever-so-slightly to allow you a glimpse at the straining tent in his pants once more, “I began to unwrap you, of course. How could I not, with the obvious care you put into my present? Though, quite unfortunately, love, the dream ended there… Such a shame, hm?” He sighed dramatically, though you saw the twitch of his smirk beneath his mask, “I was left yearning for you with no reprieve.”

“I could help you with that,” you offered in a sudden boost of confidence, swallowing hard as you let your hands drop to your lap, “If you– if you want?” You continued after a moment, wincing at the slight quiver in your voice, heart pounding in your ears.

“Oh, love,” he cooed, expression lighting up, “You truly are too sweet to me. Yes, I would adore your help.”

You paused briefly, considering your next move before shifting the camera back, letting him see your full criss-crossed form, settled comfortably on the bed. You took a deep breath, calming your racing heart before carefully unfolding your legs, placing the bottoms of your feet flat on the bed as you leaned back onto your palms.

Though embarrassment flooded your body from the exposing pose (even if you were already dressed, albeit in pajamas), any nerves left in your body left the second you heard Korekiyo sigh softly, shifting his own camera back to reveal his arousal for you.

You watched as he carefully rubbed his bulge over his pants, his eyes raking appreciatively over your body before he murmured, “There you are. Breathtaking, as always.”

You wasted no time in slipping your own hand down your torso, fingers wiggling under the hem of your pajama bottoms. He watched with keen interest, palm momentarily pausing as you let out a shaky breath. The pads of your fingers found your clit easily, working it slowly and gently, imagining Korekiyo’s nimble fingers.

“J-just how you would,” you breathed, eyes fluttering as your hips bucked into your hand, moving teasingly slow. You heard a low moan from Korekiyo, and when you opened your eyes his hand had snaked beneath his bottoms. You saw his fist move beneath the fabric, slow and languid, though the way his breath was hitching told you he was much more excited than he let on.

“Just like me, hm?” he repeated breathlessly, “Speed up for me then, won’t you?”

A moan escaped your lips as you acquiesced, now starting to rub circles over your sensitive nub. You watched his head tip back at the noise, a low sigh mixed with a groan emitting from the speaker as his hips twitched. “Mm, there it is, keep going, love,” he nearly whispered, panting lightly, “Oh, you haven’t the slightest idea how much I missed you.”

“Tell me,” you encouraged him breathily, allowing your hips to grind against your fingers when his gaze met yours, “T-tell me, please.”

“I’ve missed your moans, your pleas,” he continued, the movement hidden under his bottoms hastening, “The-...” he cut himself off with a soft gasp as, you assumed, his thumb rubbed over the head of his cock, “The way you squirm underneath me, how debauched you look after I make you cum on my fingers… Oh, love, do you have any idea how gorgeous you look when you cum?”

A choked whimper forced its way out of your lips, hips bucking as another wave of heat flushed through your body. “Kore–” you began, but he cut you off with a soft, breathy chuckle.

“You look divine,” he continued, the skin just above his mask beginning to flush as he grew closer to his own orgasm, “Watching your mind blank the moment you tip over that edge, your body writhing, how your walls tighten around my cock so deliciously–”

You felt yourself growing closer to the edge, thighs trembling as your fingers rubbed fervently over your swollen clit. Your eyes were trained on the way his fist worked under his pants; the way his eyes fluttered with each stroke let you know he was just as close as you were.

“I’m… close,” he moaned softly, eyes locking with yours, “You are too, aren’t you?”

You felt the familiar tightening in your abdomen at his words, biting your lip harshly as you whined, quickening your pace on your clit. “That’s it, relax, love. You’re so close,” he encouraged you, leaning forward to see you more clearly as he pumped himself fervently.

You came with a cry of his name, back snapped into an arch as pleasure flooded through your body, wave after wave drowning you in a haze. You watched Korekiyo’s eyes roll back, his form stiffening visibly before a low moan escaped him. His hips bucked into his hand, stilling momentarily before pumping once more as he came alongside you.

You shuddered as you came down from your high, hips still weakly grinding against your fingers in an attempt to prolong the ebbing pleasure. You watched Korekiyo’s body slacken on the screen, relaxing back into his bed with a heavy sigh. Chests heaving, it was silent for a few moments as you both recovered from the daze.

“...I miss you,” you murmured after a moment, slipping your hand out of your bottoms with a weak smile sent his way.

His expression softened immediately, an adoring sigh leaving his masked lips as he shifted closer to the screen, “And I, you. In two weeks we’ll be reunited, my love, I promise.” You hummed in response, murmuring a soft “yeah” before he spoke again, “I love you, dear.”

A smile stretched across your face immediately and you chewed on the inside of your cheek, “I love you too, Kore.”

“I assume you’d like me to stay on call while you fall asleep?” he asked breathlessly, sliding his hand out of his pants and shifting to grab a tissue. You nodded, sitting up and rolling off the bed with a low groan, legs sore from tensing.

“If you don’t mind?” you asked sheepishly, rummaging in your drawer for a new pair of underwear.

“I never do,” he promised, tossing the tissue off screen, “I’m going to shower, love. I’ll keep you on so you can hear the water running, hm?” Fabric ruffled past the microphone as he grabbed his phone, taking it with him to the bathroom.

Climbing back into your cozy bed, you snuggled beneath your blanket, placing your phone beside you on the pillow. Your eyes began to drift shut as you listened to him hum to himself, the familiar sound of the shower starting soothing you into a comfortable sleep.

#danganronpa x reader #danganronpa scenarios #danganronpa imagines #n*sw//#danganronpa #korekiyo shinguji x reader #korekiyo shinguji #v3 imagines #v3 #prayingggg that this man is in character lmfao its been a hot second

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my-rose-tinted-glasses · 27 days

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@lurkingshan Ok. So I haven't really been in QL land long enough to have watched a lot of under the radar ql stuff to be honest. The OJBL journey is the thing that really is helping me discover more stuff or when someone else recommends something.

Also before I start a couple of things. I don't really know if any of this is obscure or not to be fair. I guess these are things that I had to go look for because I'd never heard of them. But that's me. Second thing. Outside tumblr I don't really know what's ql or not. The only distinction I really make is asian queer media or western. So, sorry for my ignorance in this. This is just some of the ones I watched not too long ago I guess.

Speaking of my ojbl journey. You already talked about No Touching at All recently. But I'll take this opportunity to plug another one that I really like and I wish more people watched was

Ai no Kotodama

The wonderful @twig-tea is my guide through this endeavour and when she told me about this one she also said that it was left out of a lot of rec lists at the time for a couple of reasons.

I'm gonna try to not spoil anything but I really don't understand. I loved the editing in this and how they used everything around the couple to mirror them and work for the love story. Everything serves a purpose here and it's all very deliberate. Sure it's a bit older (lol) and maybe some people are turned off by superficial factors but I really liked it and I loved the progression of these two idiots obviously in love.

Silhouette of Your Voice

I adored this one. Think Last Twilight but Japanese and they didn't screw up anything. One of them is losing his hearing and the other is just a sunshine that will work for his lunch. They are precious. And I think this one might qualify as bl. A warning to anyone who might see this: If you have sensitive ears, do not watch this with headphones. Because at times the sound we hear is the sound Kohei hears and it's not pleasant.

Twilight's Kiss aka Suk Suk

I love when I get to watch love stories between older people. It's just a great reminder that there's life as long as you're living. And life doesn't end at 30, or 40, or 50 or whatever it is that you've been been told to believe. Also queer older people is even rarer so when I found this one I had to watch it. I loved it so much. There's so many great moments, I love the tenderness of the mains, and the conversations around the gay retirement home and the music, I loved the music so much.

Another caveat (because obviously I have issues and need to explain myself a lot). I love my rose-tinted glasses but at heart, I live for the sad stories.

In Between Seasons

I cried so good during this one. It's a story about waiting and about using time to accept, and forgive and heal. It's about family and coming together. And it's beautiful. But it's no bl and it's sad, so fair warning.

That's all I got for now. If I remember more I'll share. I might need to start posting more about films I watch if for no other reason that I would have gifs to use on my own posts. 💜

#thanks so much for this ask #i took me a while to answer #but I made it #Rose's Day of Asks #has become #Rose's Day of Answers

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maybege · 1 day

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What If - Part 3

Summary: The more you get to know Paz Vizsla, the more you fall for him.

Pairing: alpha!Paz Vizsla x omega!fem!Reader

Wordcount: 5.8k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, explicit sexual content, size kink (Paz is big-big), semi-public sex, thigh riding, cockwarming, dirty talk, idiots in love

Whoop whoop! Another weekend, another part! This is, technically, part 2.2 with some more smut, some fluff, some idiots in love and a very special adorable guest star that could not miss if we want to talk about Paz in S3. Thank you so much to everyone who wrote a comment or reblogged the story so far, I really appreciate it and I hope that you enjoy this part too. The next (and last) part will be out either next week or the week after, just because I need to channel all the angst lol

Again: Just a little reminder, that this is not strictly adhering to canon and I am just roughly imagining what actually happened during these episodes.

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

You woke up alone the next morning, the sun already high in the sky. It was later than usual but you felt so blissed out, you could not really bring yourself to care. Your entire body felt deliciously exhausted and as you stretched your arms over your head, letting out a big yawn, you realized that you had slept better in this stranger’s (though could still call Paz Vizsla a stranger now?) bed than in the last few years in your own cot.

There was a fresh bowl of fruit on the desk and this time you did not hesitate to devour the tasty berries which you knew he had meant for you. The sheer fact alone that Paz Vizsla had organized breakfast for you made your heart race.

The sun was out in full force by the time you left the ship. You could see people milling about, carrying crates this and that way and for a moment you felt bad that you had slept the day away instead of helping.

But then you thought about how your job for these few days was to be a calmer. And if your alpha (yours) was calm and happy and made your heart skip a beat, then you had done your job by keeping the peace and prolonging Axe Wove’s life for yet another day.

Rounding the ship to get to the inventory, you passed by another ramp, this one almost completely abandoned except for a small figure that huddled at the entrance. When you came close enough, you realised it was a child. Still helmeted with the same blue as Paz’s clan, but certainly a child if the frail shoulders and little hands were anything to go by.

For a moment, you hesitated. You didn’t know what it was like in their clan but in yours, it was rare to see a foundling on their own and even rarer to leave them on their own if they were upset. So you approached him.

“Hi,” you greeted the child sitting, “You okay?”

You could hear sniffles under his helmet and your heart broke. Clearly, they were not okay.

“Yeah,” the boy mumbled, turning away from you, “Go away.”

Forgotten were the happy activities of last night and the way Paz Vizsla could make you smile even in his absence. “Were – do you maybe want to talk to one of the elders of your tribe?”

He shook his head fervently.

“Sometimes it helps me to speak about it with a friend,” you suggested lightly, “Do you have a friend you want to talk to? I could get them if you like?”

“I don’t need your help,” he spat suddenly and you recognized the hurt in his voice, your mouth grimacing at the pain he must feel. And you were not about to abandon a hurt child, no matter how angry they might be.

True to your feelings, it did not take long before he spoke up. His voice was much softer than before.

“They said I could not be a good Mandalorian because –“ he shook his head again, folding his arms over his knees.

“Because?” you asked carefully, debating whether any of the clans might be offended if you consoled this child. But in the end, you decided, you all just valued the foundlings’ happiness.

“Because I have never been to Mandalore.”

You hummed in acknowledgement.

“Most of the people here have never been to Mandalore,” you explained gently, “I haven’t been either and you don’t see me being treated like I’m no Mandalorian, right?”

He tilted his head, musing over your words. You could see how he was debating your helmetless existence and not for the first time did you wonder what it was like to grow up in one of the more stricter tribes. Whether their foundlings grew up knowing that there were other ways – many ways, actually – to the same goal.

“My dad has been to Mandalore,” he said suddenly with the pride only a child could have.

“Really?” you asked, “And he never told you that you need to have been on Mandalore to be a true Mandalorian?”

He shook his head eagerly. “No, he said I am a true Mandalorian no matter where I was or not. The important thing is to honour the way of the warriors,” he quoted his father with a deeper voice and you smiled at his antics.

“Your father sounds like a very wise man,” you nodded, “And don’t you think he would know a bit more about being Mandalorian than your fellow foundlings?”

That seemed to give him pause. “Yes, my buir is very smart,” he said thoughtfully, “And I don’t think that Loren and Say’na have been to Mandalore either, actually.”

“See?” you nudged him playfully, “They don’t know what they’re talking about either. We are all just on our journey to become Mandalorian.”

The boy nodded, clearly in a cheerier mood than before. Then he turned to you fully. “I am Ragnar,” he inclined his head, “This is the way.”

Recognizing it as his greeting, you repeated your name and the phrase,

“What do you think Mandalore will look like?” he asked eagerly, “Have you dreamt about it? I have. I think it is going to be full of the highest mountains and no caves in sight, I don’t like caves. And waterfalls too! Buir said he saw a waterfall as a child and he promised one day he would show me.”

Grinning at his excited chatter, you listened carefully to the pictures he painted with his words. Of snow-capped mountains and rain forests so full of rain, there would never be any deserts in sight. (Turns out Ragnar did not like deserts nor the creatures that lived in them.)

“What do you think Mandalore will look like?” he asked again after a while and despite the blacked-out visor on his face, you could picture his eyes twinkling in delight.

“I think it will be full of grassy hills and lakes,” you revealed, “When I was little, I always dreamed that I could wake up to the sound of waves and take a swim whenever I wanted. Has your buir told you what Mandalore is like?”

“Buir does not like to talk about it,” he shrugged, “But I am sure if you would ask him nicely, he would tell you! He always says I'm too small for that stuff but you are big! Though my buir is bigger, he is the best warrior in our tribe and one day, I am just going to be like –“

“Who do we have here?”

“Buir!” the boy called excitedly and you watched with utter surprise and fascination as he jumped up straight into the arms of the warrior who had kept you company the last few nights.

“You are – He is – What –“

“Getting all speechless again, ‘mega?” the large man joked, “Seems I have that kind of effect on you, huh?”

You were so flustered you did not know what to say. Instead, you just snapped your mouth shut as your brain worked overtime. Paz had a son. Ragnar was Paz’s son. Paz was Ragnar’s father.

Now that you saw them together, their helmets the same colour as the night sky, you wondered how you had not realized it earlier. But Paz had never mentioned a child. And as you watched Paz set Ragnar down again, a heavy hand on his shoulder, you wondered whether Ragnar might have a mother somewhere that still played a role in Paz’s life.

The thought made you feel strangely queasy.

“Buir, she has never seen Mandalore before either,” Ragnar announced, looking up at his father, “Maybe I can be a good Mandalorian after all.”

“How many times have I told you your value as a warrior quality is not dependent on whether you have been to Mandalore,” he chided his son gently in a way that parents often did when their children finally had a revelation after years of them telling them the exact same thing.

“Sometimes it helps to hear it from someone else,” you said quietly. Paz’s gaze snapped to you and you swallowed.

“I suppose that is right,” he said and as Ragnar decided to jog back to his now-again friends to play, Paz came to stand in front of you in all his glory, covering the sun from your face.

“Ragnar is very sweet,” you started shyly, “I didn’t know he – or that you – He … he is very proud to be Mandalorian.”

“That he is,” your alpha replied, “Some clans don’t see him as my son ever since I found him all alone but to me and mine he is my son in all the ways that matter.”

“Our clan has the concept of foundlings, too, you know?” you smiled, your heart bursting in your chest at how protective he was over his son, “He is very proud of his father.”

“And I am very proud of my son,” he replied, “He, uh, he only recently had his helmet ceremony. And it got interrupted in a – he – let’s just say there is nothing I would not do for him. A world without him is no world for me.”

“And that is all that matters,” you reassured him, your heart skipping a beat while your head tortured you with images of what he would be like as a father of your children.

“Did you sleep well?”

You shook your head slightly, shaking off the question of whether he would mind being the father of your future children, “I did, though I am a bit sore.”

His hands immediately appeared at your side, gently helping you up as if soreness rendered you incapable of carrying your weight on your legs. You snorted, feverishly trying not to think about how the heat of his body seeped through your clothes, “Alpha, it is not that bad.”

“I like it when you call me alpha,” he rumbled, not seeming the least bit worried about his concern for you, pulling you closer so he could wrap his arms around you properly, “You did it last night … maybe you can do it tonight too.”

Your core felt molten at the thought of being in his arms for the rest of the day and you were sure he could see how your chest was heaving in excitement. Though as much as you wanted to, there was a tiny voice in the back of your head that made you hesitant.

“I am not sure if I can leave again,” you spoke out loud, “It … Would you truly be okay with me joining your clan quarters for the night again?”

“I don’t think it will come to that conversation at all,” Paz said, his hand sweeping over your back, “The council has decided,” he announced quietly, “We will make our way to Mandalore by nightfall. And if you are comfortable with the thought, I'd like to share my cot with you.”

The ship offered no privacy.

While Paz did have his private room – the one you had spent the previous night in – getting all clans onto one or two ships, meant having to share and rethink the limited space available. As a sign of respect to the clan leader, Paz Vizsla offered Sluice his room and she accepted.

This meant that Paz, along with his fellow warriors, was assigned one of the bunk beds. And one of them meant one of 64 in a large narrow room with too high ceilings and four bunks stacked on top of each other.

The worry in his voice was clear, even through the helmet, when you helped him carry his personal belongings (including a very soft blanket you distinctly remembered cuddling into), assuring you that you could change your mind. But the thought of leaving Paz had not occurred to you once and when you pointed out that several calmers had joined their alphas in the large room and none of them seemed to mind, his shoulders had visibly relaxed.

“We will find privacy in other corners of the ship,” he had promised you, his voice low and deep and sending shivers down your spine.

Only you had not expected him to find privacy so soon.

You were walking down one of the abandoned hallways of the ship, trying to get a feel for the layout so you would not get lost on your way to the cantina again. The negotiations had been postponed once more and with Paz in his polished armour, bent over a strategy table, you decided to flee the cockpit so Chants could not see just how needy you were for your alpha.

Your alpha.

You smiled, the warm feeling in your chest expanding until your entire body felt warm and cosy, thrumming at the thought of him. Could it be that Paz Vizsla really was your alpha? You had never expected to find what some of the elders had called true mates: a person – an alpha – that was just perfect for you and for whom you were perfect. And while you were not sure if you were truly someone that he would want forever, you were getting surer and surer that he was that someone for you.

You were just about to turn a corner when a hand closed around your upper arm and drew you back. Instincts kicked on and you squeaked, flinging your leg back to try and kick back into your attacker but they turned you around so quickly, you had no chance. Within moments, your back was pressed into the cool metal wall behind you, with no option of escape. And a blue helmet entered your vision. “Paz,” you gasped just before his hand came down on your throat. He was not wearing his gloves, which meant he must have planned it all beforehand. You wondered when. And how. And if he spent more time thinking about you than you thought (an idea that filled you with an immense sense of hope) but all thought evaporated when his thumb brushed over your scent gland.

Fuck, you were needy for him.

“Is that okay?” he checked in, his voice rough. His helmet came down against your forehead and you could sense him looking at you so intensely you felt like you could never hide from him. “Wanted to surprise you.”

You nodded, pressing your thighs together when his fingers twitched on your throat. He was so in control of you, of the situation, it felt like you could flood your underwear just upon his command.

“You're not wearing gloves,” you whispered.

He hummed, his thumb scenting you again, “No, I wanted to feel you.”

“O-okay,” you gasped, writhing against him. His thick thigh slipped between your legs and your toes were barely touching the floor when he angled his leg just so. He made you dangle, the only things holding you being his hand on your throat and his thigh on your pussy.

And you did not want to have it any other way.

You did not have to see him to know he had a very amused grin on his face. “You like my armour,” he stated, his legs shifting and you squirmed, “Let’s see how much.”

“Wh-What?”

“Ride my thigh, omega,” he instructed, his fingers flexing around your throat, “When I step foot onto our home I want to have my armour marked by your come.”

“Don’t – don’t you want to fill me up again?” you asked, trying to tease him even though you felt like you were in no position to tease at all. More like begging. Was it too early to beg? “Or – or have me cockwarm you?” you added as an afterthought.

“Who says I cannot do all of these?” he chuckled, bumping you on his leg so high it put pressure on the part you needed most, “After all we still have at least a dozen hours before us.”

Your hands flew to his shoulders, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep you somewhat steady. Almost immediately, you slipped your fingers to his cowl almost immediately and Paz did not stop you when your fingertips managed to find his warm skin, brushing over it until you found his scent gland.

“I don’t see you grinding yet,” he said instead, angling his knee even higher and you squeaked, “Don’t you want to be a good girl for me?”

Of course, you did. And he knew it.

With your dress hiked up over his leg, you could feel the coldness of his beskar through your underwear. And what might have been a turn-off under normal circumstances, with Paz towering over you, shifting his leg again as a reminder of his presence, you found that it turned you beyond belief.

You started moving your hips slowly, though you felt like you were failing miserably at exuding any kind of sex appeal. With your feet having no real contact with the ground and Paz fixing your head so you would not lose his gaze, you felt anything but graceful. But he did not change his stance, nor his grip on your body. While he kept one large hand on your throat, his thumb consistently brushing over your scent gland, the other wandered to the cleavage of your dress.

As soon as he started pulling the delicate neckline down, baring you to his eyes so slowly, your breath got heavier until it just got stuck in your throat. You wanted to please him, stars, how you wanted to please him. And you knew that he liked you, knew that he found you beautiful and yet, at this moment, it was only his mumbles “Stars, you’re so beautiful” that had you release your breath.

And worry about other things.

“What if someone sees?”

“Then they’ll only see my back,” he replied, his fingers playing with your tits and tracing over your pebbled nipples, “And if they tried to see anymore, they will have to deal with the consequences.”

Something in his tone, the possessive undertone, paired with his scent, caused a fresh wave of arousal in you. You could feel your panties sticking to your folds, the wetness gathering on the delicate fabric. There was something slightly humiliating about your position like this, out in the open, and yet you could feel no shame.

Not when Paz made you feel like the most beautiful omega ever to exist.

Soon, you grew more confident in your movements, grinding properly against the hard beskar plate. It was so unforgiving and Paz just kept on playing with your tits, gently plucking at your nipples like it did not make you tremble in his arms. “Could play with these all night,” he murmured, “One day I am gonna have your cock warm me all naked so I get to take my time. Just going to play with these until you’re blind from pleasure.”

You wanted to remind him that the last time he took his time, you had ended up being unable to speak and move. (Though the sleep afterwards had been fantastic.) But the words got stuck in your throat when his hand left your throat (and, regrettably, your scent gland) and pulled your panties aside.

Already, you could feel how drenched you were but could not find it in you to be embarrassed. Instead of ceasing your grinding at the thought of someone accidentally passing by, all you could do was hope that his finger might catch on your clit. They did not. Though knowing that he stared at where your folds left races of wetness on his made you even hotter. Your breaths grew heavier, the knot in your core tighter, and as you thought about cockwarming him until he filled you up again and again, you lost all inhibition.

Tightening your arms around his neck, you hoisted yourself up and closer to his chest. The proximity allowed you to pulse your hips and stars, did it feel good, the way your folds and your clit bumped over the texture of his thigh plate. You wondered how the design came to be – and although you were very sure that this particular situation hadn’t been considered when forging it, you still sent a silent thank you to whoever had made this piece. A few thrusts later, the beskar had warmed with your touch and with your increasing arousal it also became a much easier glide.

“Look at you,” Paz rumbled, clearly pleased, “Marking me for everyone to see. Grinding yourself on my armour like it is my cock.”

His words sparked a sudden idea. The kind of idea that made your heart race and your brain fuzzy but something in your chest told you that Paz would love it just as much as you.

With surprising determination, you surged forward and attached your mouth to the sliver of skin you had freed. His skin was warm and salty under your tongue as you sucked on his scent gland. His taste exploded on your tongue and you moaned, feeling your pussy clench around nothing.

Paz grunted, his body slamming you into the wall, punching the air out of your lungs.

“Fuck,” he growled, his hands gripping your hips and taking control of your movements. You could feel his bulge against your leg and knowing he was as affected by your pleasure made your heart flutter.

It did not take long for you to completely come apart in his arms. With his cock straining against his codpiece, your clit rubbing over his thigh plate your almost-but-not-quite exposure to anyone who might walk by, it had only been a matter of time.

You moaned against his neck, shaking in his arms as your walls clenched around nothing, wishing for his cock inside you.

“You're doing so good for me,” he growled, “Mark me, sweetheart. Do it.”

Your teeth just barely grazed his scent gland when you had the realization that, yes, this was what you wanted him to do. You wanted him to mark you, you wanted to mark him.

You wanted this man to be your alpha.

Another wave of pleasure rolled over you, making you whimper in the cold silence of the hallway. Your entire body just sagged into him, completely pliant for the man in front of you. And Paz was there to catch you, holding you up against him.

“Good omega,” he whispered, as he slowed your movements, gradually working you down from your high, “You are amazing.”

“Hmmm,” you hummed against his neck, brushing your nose over his scent gland, “You smell amazing.”

“Cause I smell like you,” he whispered, “C’mon, let’s get out of here before someone sees.”

“They won't though,” you slurred, your tongue still heavy in your mouth, “Cause you won't let them.”

He paused, his hands brushing from your shoulders to your hands. Slowly, his fingers intertwined with yours as if he were afraid you would run away if he were to touch you too soon. With him standing in front of you, his leg no longer between yours, gravity did its thing as your dress fell over your legs, hiding the sticky mess between your legs. Though your expression and scent probably gave it away to anyone who looked at you for more than a fleeting moment.

“Yes,” he said warmly, “I won't.”

Smiling through the haze, you rested your head against his chest and he let you. Being hugged by Paz made you feel secure in a way you had never experienced before. His arms tightened around you and he started to slowly sway from side to side, humming a melody you did not recognize.

“How are you so comfortable?” you asked in a mumble, trying to smooth your cheek against him through the cold beskar was nothing like the warmth of his skin.

He did not answer directly but you did notice a change in his scent, something that you hadn’t noticed before. You breathed in deeply, trying to decipher where this scent of woods and sweetness had come from but Paz interrupted your thoughts, “Will you let me accompany you to your bunk?”

“Will I?” you scoffed, your voice still sounding weak to your ears, “You have to, alpha, you’ve got a tendency to make my legs tremble.”

“Say stuff like this and I will make them tremble again.”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?”

“A promise, love,” he chuckled, “It’s a promise.”

You were not sure what you had expected when the entire Mandalorian population got cramped onto one ship, but it certainly had not been a board game championship.

“Hm, I could get used to that,” Paz murmured in your ear, his hand on your back, “Getting Ragnar to bed, having a nice drink to finish off the evening, sitting you on my cock and beating that annoying alpha in every single game this ship has to offer.”

You smiled against his neck, not opening your eyes. You had spent the last few hours just ... dozing. It was kind of scary to think about how quickly you had gotten used to this strange man but when you had settled for the evening, it was not even a question where you would spend the last few hours of the day.

As soon as the large alpha had sat down at one of the little play tables, so had you, straddling him with your chest against his and he had gotten an extra blanket from somewhere, muttering under his breath how he knew you got cold easily.

It made your cheeks heat up in a different way.

But now here you were, his cock nestled deep inside you and your face in the crook of his neck. Getting to touch even the tiniest sliver of skin felt like a privilege and the fact that he allowed you to do so in front of many of the other warriors made it feel even more intimate. Paz did not mind you scenting him. Quite the opposite, actually, he seemed to relish in it.

The previous night he had spent the time just like this, sitting you on his cock with a rumble in his chest. Only that time he had been able to reciprocate the scenting in kind. Whenever you had drifted awake (multiple times since some couples just could not keep quiet), his mouth had been on your neck, raining lavish kisses upon the sensitive skin until you squirmed in his lap. He had been awake every time you had drifted off and every time your eyes fluttered open beneath the blindfold. He had been still yes, quiet too, and smelled incredibly comfortable but his hands, his hips slowly working you open until you had muffled your gasps into his chest and come on his cock. And then he had traced his fingertips over your scent gland until you had fallen back asleep.

You wondered if he had not slept because he was nervous or perhaps because he just did not need to. You knew of a few warriors in your tribe who had made it a tradition not to sleep the night before a big battle or a trial, instead mulling over strategies and meditating until the time had come.

Briggs called them idiots.

But Paz was not an idiot.

Not with the way he carried himself so securely through the ship, how he participated in the training session, giving pointers to the younger warriors. And certainly not with the way he argued in the cockpit, discussing the best route to go to Mandalore and the strategy for how to reclaim it.

And definitely not with the way his hand was gently stroking your back, how his chest rumbled whenever you pressed a lazy kiss to his scent gland and how he made sure you were comfortable, checking in with you every time he shifted.

“You comfortable too, sweetheart?” he asked you, inclining his head so the side of his helmet was resting against your temple. The proximity allowed you not only to bury your face in his neck but also to hear his real voice – a fact that made your heart skip a beat, “Getting some rest?”

You hummed, too lazy to speak but chose to kiss his neck instead. The stretch made him shift inside you and you whimpered. He had come inside you once already and refused to knot you. (“The first time I knot you won't be in a room where everyone can see just how pretty you come for me,” had been his exact words and you had been too excited by the prospect of him knotting you to understand the implications of the rest of the words.) Which meant that there was a growing mess between your thighs, a mix of your juices and his seed and where other alphas might have found it uncomfortable, the reminder that he had filled you seemed to make Paz even harder than before.

“I’d be concerned if I had to ask my calmer if they are comfortable,” Axe Wove’s voice grated on your nerves and you wondered not for the first time if it was really necessary to be nice to him or if it would suffice to just keep Bo-Katan happy, “You wanna switch, sweetheart?”

You had not even registered that he was speaking to you until you felt Paz tense underneath you, his scent getting an acid note that made your nose twitch, “Say that again.”

“You heard me,” Axe Woves hissed, “Perhaps your omega would actually be satisfied if she were with me.”

You squeaked when you were simply lifted off Paz’s cock, his hands gripping your waist just a little bit too tight for comfort. He was angry, you could gather as much. But was that truly reason enough to kick you out of your favourite spot when you had just started to doze off again?

With trembling hands, you fought to close your robe as fast as possible. But when you finally looked up from fiddling with the belt, it was already too late.

The tell-tale buzzing of the vibro blade cut through the tense silence in the room and you knew shit was about to go down.

“Alpha,” you started to rush to his side but were kept on your spot by a pair of arms that were not your alpha’s.

You turned around angrily, ready to chide anyone who dared to keep you from trying to calm your alpha. Because that’s what he was. Your alpha.

“You know you cannot intervene.”

“Chants –“

“Everyone is watching,” your friend reminded you urgently. You knew he was right. That did not mean you had to like it though. Anyone going to stop a fight between two Mandalorian warriors had to be ready to fight themselves. And apart from your lack of clothing or your body still being disoriented from sitting on Paz’s cock not even five minutes ago, your lack of training did not lend itself to try and stop whatever was going on.

A roar was going through the crowd as they gathered to see what was going on. You caught glimpses of Sluice and the Armourer watching the fight unfold – Sluice looking just as displeased as Briggs, wherever he was, you were sure – and you grew restless. Paz making you fight made you nervous, the thought that there was even the slimmest chance that he could get hurt made you sick to your stomach.

However, after a few minutes of watching Paz fight, you found you did not mind seeing him throw and avoid punches. There was something very attractive about the way he strong-armed his way through the fight. Both men were capable warriors, that much was obvious, but his display of pure strength reminded you of your moment in the hallway and your raging heartbeat calmed down.

Paz could take care of this. He could take care of himself.

It was only when the silver-armoured man – Djarin, you thought – stomped into the circle, gripping Paz by the back of his neck and pulling him away the same way that Bo-Katan Kryze pulled away Axe Woves, finally putting distance between the two alphas.

You took that as your chance to intervene. Chants had no chance to stop you as you slipped out of his grasp and hurried towards Paz. His chest was heaving and his hands kept clenching by his side and you could smell his anger even from several steps away.

But it did not scare you. Because deep down you knew that no matter how big he was, no matter how angry, Paz Vizsla would never even think of hurting you.

“Alpha,” you whispered and the crowd went quiet, “I mean, uh, Paz.”

Taking a stand in front of him you hoped that he was focussing on you instead of a raging Axe Woves behind you. And your heart skipped a beat when his hands gently pulled you against him. He was aware of you, he noticed you, he did not care more about the fight than you.

“He said that I could not pleasure you,” he grunted and you moved to his side.

“I heard what he said,” you smiled, your hand gripping his while you rested your chin against his upper arm, “And it is obvious to me that he does not know what he is talking about.”

That seemed to relax him a little because you could see his shoulders drop and his fingers intertwined with yours. “No?” he asked, tugging you closer, “Are you sure, omega?”

“I am very sure,” you replied, feeling a little breathless, “No one ever made me feel like you do, alpha. Cherished and safe and wanted and … and –“ loved “– appreciated the way you do.”

“Can I let you go, Vizsla?” his friend asked, his tone neutral though you could swear you detected a hint of exasperation in it, “Or will you try to start another clan war?”

“Fuck off, Djarin,” Paz said, clearly not offended at the other man’s accusation, and shook his friend off but keeping his hold on your hand, “’m fine.”

“Yeah, sure,” the other man scoffed but left anyway, disappearing into the crowd that kept dwindling away now that nothing of interest was going on. But a few eyes remained on you and you suddenly became aware of how little you were wearing and how much you were being watched.

“Can we leave, alpha?” you asked, thumb brushing over his wrist and you loved how his head tilted to look at you. How he seemed to be so focused on you, you never need to worry he was in danger of ignoring you. “To … I don’t know to where, just … somewhere we’re alone.”

“I can take you to bed, omega,” he suggested, his hands falling to your hips, “I can … I could hold you close and scent you again. We got the curtain and the blindfold and our own little space. How does that sound?”

“That sounds like a dream,” you smiled in relief, already dragging him in the direction of the bunkroom, “Please take me to bed, alpha.”

#maybege writes #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x fem!reader #smut

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supervillain-smut · 2 years

Text

Brahms Heelshire x Reader Smut

Here you go, stinky wall man fans (including me lol). Under the cut, since this isn’t some people’s thing, and this is long. Reader is implied afab.

AO3 Link

Brahms had mysteriously been absent the entire day, leaving you alone to take care of his doll counterpart once again.

He would occasionally have reclusive days, although it was becoming rarer ever since he'd revealed himself to you, so it was odd he'd have another one so soon; his last one was only a week ago. You worried he was backtracking out of anxiety when you turned the corner and he was standing in the hallway.

"Oh! There you are, Brahms. I was worried about you today, is everything alright?" You tilted your head and took a step towards him, reminding yourself to keep your hands at your sides so you didn't startle him.

He stood there perfectly still, and you wondered if this was a prank; if it wasn't him at all until his gaze lowered to the floor. In distress or thought you couldn't tell, so you walked up to him, stopping a foot away from him.

He closed the gap, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your head, breathing deeply. He seemed to relax all at once, his stiff and unsure posture immediately shifted to a loose one, content to just stand there with you in his arms.

"Aw, hello Brahms. Did you miss me?" He nodded his head. "Is something bothering you, baby boy?" You began cooing at him, rubbing his back and pulling him impossibly closer to you, and his grip on you tightened in return as he shook his head.

"You just wanted a hug?" He shook his head. You were confused at his response. If he didn't want a hug, what did he want, then? You pieced it together when he dipped his head and let his hands slide lower so his face was in your neck and his hands hovering just above your ass.

"Brahms, what are you doing? Did you ask if you could do that?" He shook his head, acknowledging the fact he was breaking the rules about touching where he wasn't supposed to without asking.

"Brahms, let go of me, try again, and ask this time." You could hear his breathing become increasingly unsteady; he was having a mental battle with himself on whether or not he should listen to the rules you set down, not his, or if he should disobey and take what he wanted.

You waited a minute before you urged him again, more commanding this time. "Brahms, let go of me, back up, and ask if you can touch me like that." Still, he didn't budge, in fact, his grip tightened almost imperceivably if you weren't paying attention, his breathing growing more frustrated; you had to put him back in his place and soon before he made up his mind on misbehaving.

"Brahms, back up. Now." You said as seriously and commanding as you could without yelling at him, and your blood turned to ice at his response.

"No." He practically growled the word, its meaning clear; he'd made up his mind. You don't dare fight back, but rather ignore him, hoping he'd recognize that you were angry with him by letting your arms fall to your sides and leaning away from him as much as his grip would allow.

You did your best, really you did, to ignore him. Even as he lifted his mask up just enough to expose his mouth to place wet and warm kisses on your neck, even as he attempted to slide his knee between your thighs, even as he insistently pressed himself against you. You didn't budge on your decision to be angry, even when his voice cracked as he attempted to make you feel bad by using his little voice.

"Kiss? Pretty Y/N, kiss?" He tried to kiss your mouth, but you continued to turn your face away from him. He continued to ignore you ignoring him, impossible to dissuade when he got like this, but you had made a mistake.

You noticed all too late, when he realized he had full access to your neck and shoulder, and began placing open-mouthed kisses all along, nibbling and biting occasionally, leaving bruises you'd have to explain to the grocery boy, his name forgotten at the moment as unfortunately your body and mind were no longer focused on the same task, your knees feeling weak and a familiar warmth making it's way south.

The mask pressed against your face uncomfortably, but he persisted in getting his way, and when he had waited long enough and knew he was winning, he swiftly placed his thigh between your legs and rubbed it against your core, causing you to let out an accidental moan of surprise.

He took that as a sign he'd won as he cupped your ass and lifted you, forcing you to wrap your legs around him out of fear he'd drop you, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck.

"Brahms!" You let out a panicked cry of his name, and received a whimper in return, Brahms's mask now back in its place as he ground himself against you, burying his face in your neck, moaning, gasping, and whimpering as you relaxed into the scenario.

This wasn't the first time you and Brahms have had anything sexual happen between you, but it was only the second time this sort of temper tantrum had occurred; he usually listened to your rules, but not today it would seem, so you made yourself comfortable and went with it, per usual.

"Alright, fine, Brahms. This is what you want?" He furiously nodded his head, pressing the mask into your shoulder even harder as he bucked harder against your clothed cunt.

"I can't tell you you're a good boy just yet, Brahms. You're being awfully selfish." As soon as the sentence left your lips, Brahms put you down, only for a moment as he practically tore your pants off of you and picked you back up, putting you right back where you were as you held onto him tightly for a moment as he freed his throbbing cock from its confines and pulling your panties to the side as he rubbed the head of his cock along your folds, brushing your clit.

You tipped your head back and had a wicked idea now that he was listening. "Wait, Brahms, not yet. Keep doing that, good boy, that feels so good. Just like that, baby boy." He buried his face in your neck again and whined. You were going to see how long you could hold him here, a little payback for not being polite and listening.

He moved to press in, but you put your hand on his hip and held him back, much to his chagrin. "Not yet, Brahms, I'm not ready yet, keep going." He listened to you and continued to rub the head of his cock along your folds, eventually pushing up to cover his member in your slick. He tried again, and again you pushed him back and told him you weren't ready.

He groaned and lightly stomped a foot, beginning to pull a proper temper tantrum; he was losing his patience, and your hold on the leash was slipping. When he ruts into you again and felt nothing but slick, his eyes met yours and you could see the pieces fall into place in his head as he growled and pushed himself in, meeting little resistance as you cried out at the blissful stretch.

Once he was settled completely in the warmth of your walls, he panted for a couple of moments before speaking in his normal voice. "You lied to me. That wasn't nice, or fair!" His volume raised a little near the end of his sentence, and you gave him a playful look, smirking at him.

That was enough for him to start thrusting harshly into you as you keened at the sudden motion and pleasure coursing through you.

Brahms moaned and whimpered into your shoulder as he started to thrust into you so hard you physically moved in time with his thrusts.

You came not long after that, toes curling, your eyes seeing stars, and crying out his name. "Oh god, Brahms! Good boy, oh, such a good boy! Yes! Brahms!"

He moaned loudly, his hips stuttering momentarily before he set his hands on your hips, slamming you down onto him, eventually making you come again, your nails biting into his shoulders.

You were dazed and confused when he stopped until you realized he'd remembered one rule and pulled out before coming all over both your torsos, watery jets of cum seeming endless before he fell to his knees with you landing in his lap as he panted heavily, almost gasping for air.

You sat there a little while, not sure you could move as you pet his hair and kissed his head and the forehead of his mask.

"Are you going to follow my rules next time, Brahms?" "Yes. I promise."

#brahms heelshire #brahms the boy #the boy 2016 #the boy #brahms heelsire x reader

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pigeonleap · 3 months

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YOUR FANCLANS ARE SO COOL!!!! i cant wait to see more of them omg! could you share some more on the clairvoyants/prophets and their pilgrimages up the mountain? :o also, did you have anywhere specific in colorado in mind when mapping? it looks gorgeous! and i love the landmark names omg, how'd you come up with those? sorry for all the questions im just very excited about these guys!

YAY thank you so much that means a ton! you're enabling my infodumping I'm about to write 1500 words (serious). Don't ever worry about asking too many ST questions it's all i think about.

Here's a MSPAINT doodle of the girls. hope nothing bad ever happens to them

easy questions first!

ST's set in the northern Colorado Rockies where they border the Great Plains. Somewhere unpopulated in the northern Front Range!

Landmark names are usually named after past leaders/healers/deputies of the Clans, who I just made up on the spot (except I have a Blizzard playthrough on Clangen so I used some of those leaders and important cats.) To come up with a lot of the names I researched local fauna. Colorado has a LOT of elk and a lot of large carnivores! Summer Thunder has a storm motif (did you know) so a lot of the place names have to do with that

I'm going to go ahead and put the Clairvoyant/Prophet stuff under a cut because I write headcanons as I go and it gets so lengthy lol.

SORRY IN ADVANCE. this is like 3/4 just for me so i can put it in my document

Clairvoyants are the cats who would have "a strong connection to StarClan" in canon text. StarClan (usually called the Stars in-universe) are not an explicit thing or confirmed. There is something spiritual going on, but it's a lot more like a Primal Force than it is "My Dead Aunt Says Hello To Me In My Dreams." The technical name for cats who are tuned in to this spirituality is "Clairvoyants", though it's an ambiguous label and not something that ever puts cats into a group. Most cats aren't clairvoyant or are to a very low degree (this works since level of clairvoyance in any universe doesn't affect how much you believe in a higher power).

Prophets, a role found only in StormClan, are kind of like canon Medicine Cats except I separated the role into its composite Prophet and Healer. Some cats are both, in which case they'll call themselves whichever one makes more sense - usually Prophet because it's rarer and so it can feel closer to your identity. A Prophet is sort of like how Ancient Greek Oracles were. They are rare and usually have a medium to extremely high level of Clairvoyance. (ex. Leafpool, Goosefeather.) Their role, like medcats, is to speak as the Stars' voice and share wisdom with the Clan. The Stars do not "give prophecies" in the literal sense that they do in canon - cats interpret things how they will, like we would in real life. It's easy to think of an omen or prophecy if you want to hear one.

Storm cats just take it really seriously because they REALLY love the Stars. They have a higher genetic predisposition of Clairvoyants, so they have become really connected to spirituality and piety. They believe in fate and destiny and will use the Stars to justify any achievement. Naming ceremonies often go like "You are so lucky to be blessed by the Stars with such amazing jumping skills - your new name will be Pigeonleap." (Maybe Pigeonleap just got really good at jumping because he trained for his entire apprenticeship. It doesn't matter. It's the Stars.)

Pilgrimages, which I may start calling something cool (like the Prophet's Ascent maybe?) are taken by aspiring Prophets when they want to prove their connection to the Stars. Prophets are usually apprenticed to someone who is also Clairvoyant/a Prophet or a Healer if there isn't one. When they reach the end of their apprenticeship they are sent to hike Cloud's Tooth via Thunder Ridge/Lightning Point. Usually their mentor will follow them as far as the path from the Ridge up to Lightning Point (I'm thinking this is like a day's hike), but the mentor in most cases has already done the hike and is not interested in doing it again.

Cloud's Tooth is tall (probably around 9-11,000ft???) and not too forgiving. Cats are sent when the weather is predicted to be good, but anyone who's been to the Rockies knows that can change in about five minutes. The Clans are crepuscular in my universe like regular cats, so, in the interest of safety, cats usually just try to hike the mountain during the day. It can be 7-9 hours to the summit. They spend the night at the top and the Stars speak to them (whatever that means for the particular cat.) No one else except Prophets hikes this mountain, not even people - it's rocky, without water in most places, and very windy. And slick when wet. And worse when snowy. And you'll notice all the surrounding landmarks have something to do with storms.

That being said - a cat who makes it up and down again is pretty much guaranteed the Prophet role. Otherwise, they probably just fell to Stardom down a scree slope.

#warrior cats #warriors #wc #pigeonleap text #pigeonleap #summer thunder #rowanleaf #blackflood #ask #st lore #wish i could work this hard on schoolwork #asks open #believe it or not i have more to say #i didnt even talk about the main girls in this one

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calicos-athenaeum · 8 months

Text

oh dear. i'm late. i wanted to try out @cy-inky 's one week challenge, but i've been so busy that i had to skip to day five lol. i wanted to try writing jude for once, so sorry if he's ooc :(

tw: slight blood (it's only a mention though)

general warnings: ooc jude, wannabe hero mc, no proofreading

word count: 497 words

title: hero

Shit, shit, shit, shit.

Jude gritted his teeth as he sped through the dark alleys in the middle of the night. Blood tricked down from his head and onto his expensive clothes, but he could care less about that right now. The pain was overbearing, his sides burned like hell, but he can't afford to worry about that. His injured hand clutched (Name)'s, dragging them along with him in his escape. He could hear the heavy footsteps of his foes, coming closer and closer.

Normally, Jude Jazza would not have hesitated to wield his weapon and slaughter all of them. Hell, he wouldn't even need to get his hands dirty, because the option of using his cursed ability was always open.

Keyword: was

They miscalculated. They fell into a trap.

There were little cursed abilities in the world. Even rarer was a curse with an ability that can cancel out other abilities. Because of one oversight, it nearly costed him his life— and of the person beside him.

What meant to be an easy mission quickly turned into a game of hunt. Naturally, Jude and (Name) were the hunted. He hated it.

"Fucking hell," he muttered with a click of his tongue. "They just don't know when to give up."

He tugged on their hand, leading them to another alleyway in hopes of finding an escape.

This was his second mistake. They didn't understand the enemy grounds well enough. Jude wanted to go back in the past and strangle his past self for not bothering with the finer details, because this was an 'easy mission'. Sometimes, his own pride infuriated him.

"Jude—" (Name) wheezed— "Just leave me here. Make a run for it. I can just— cough— run too. There's several more exits and—""

They couldn't even finish their sentence before a part of Jude snapped. His eyes hardened, anger flaring in his pupils. He swiftly turned around and grabbed them by the shoulder.

"You— fucking— dumbass," he enunciated each word with a light flick on their forehead. "Stop acting like a hero by sacrificing yourself. It doesn't do anyone good, and it certainly just brings me a headache."

God, he was so angry. Jude never felt this furious before. It took all of his effort to not slam his fist into the nearest wall. Why were they just so nice and pure? It made his blood boil. Have some self-preservation, will they?

"But.. It'd be more convenient—"

"Are you an idiot? I'm not leaving you here." His voice, firm and resolute, left no room for arguments. "If I returned to Crown without you, have you ever thought about how upset those clowns will be?"

Jude Jazza was normally not like this. Yet, he couldn't stop the words spilling from his mouth like a waterfall. It disgusted him to be so nice.

"So stop acting like a hero, for god's sake. I'll protect you."

#ikemen villain #ikevil #ikevil jude #jude jazza #jude jazza x reader #ikevil jude x reader #1weekchl

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pink-strawberry-kissess · 11 months

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I never liked Leon's face model in ID and DI, I wish they would use his face from Damnation. I don't understand why they changed

capcom has never been consistent when it comes to their character designs. that's also why they don't stray too much from outfit choices/colours and hairstyles. otherwise a character can easily be misinterpreted as another imo. example, red is always ada or claire. blue is leon or jill. rebecca is green etc. orange is ashley.

leon has had red, blond, brown and black hair. blue eyes and i think brown??? green? eyes. ada has had brown, green, grey eyes? even now ashley had her iconic amber eyes be switched to a green :| (im not happy about it, i liked her og eye colour better as it was rarer and more unique looking. now ashley looks like any other blonde girl)

leon has kept his hair style and general colour palettes. the only one significantly different was re6 outfit with the red undershirt, as red is not a colour commonly associated with leon. (i like to this it's connected to ada heehee)

to be fair, i think the changes might actually be a good idea in terms of garnering a larger audience. hear me out here.

we have a general idea of what leon looks like. but let's switch the hair colours, okay. now some people love blond leon. and some love dark haired leon. okay now let's tweak some variations of his face. okay some LOVE infinite darkness leon (daddy) and some LOVE babyface re2r leon. and some LOVE damnation leon (daddy) and some LOVE vendetta leon (emo daddy) BUT i have also seen people disliking ALL of these variants of leon.

now the consistent things i've noticed about his face is that he always is depicted with the sharp brow, and he has a very pronounced nose bridge, and the butt chin has been on every modern interpretation of leon since after 2004 (re4) infinite darkness Leon is actually a decent interpretation of re6 leon and damnation leon

in the og timeline, with re4, leon's cheek is cut and has a scar even in re6. because of re4r no longer recreating this cut, we can assume that he will not have a scar in a potential re6r. the scar is also not in any cgi film.

he and ada both share gsw scars in the opposite shoulders, but it's unlikely we will see these. (please let me see them in a movie or game, i am begging you. i want them to kiss each other scars)

i think with so many variations of leon in different companies mind you, since the cgi films are a different production team than the games. it makes sense on why they might have their own versions of leon. at least with the game remakes, we have a more consistent face model for leon. i'll be honest, i am not a fan of re4r leon's face. i like it, it's not my favourite. and that's okay! but here we go now, we've created fun discourse over it lol

my favourite has always been re6 leon. something about his voice (matt mercer) and his design just won me over so much.

also that being said with your original ask, damnation leon is actually one of the more different ones as well. he has a completely different eye colour, same with ada. and the darker hair colour.

and also (allegedly ada was modelled after their voice actors/mocap actors. (for re6) so i want to assume that they did the same for leon/matt mercer/his mocap actor), and i do wonder if they did this for damnation as well.

at least with the remakes it seems they want to be more consistent, which is good. but with capcom's track record, i wouldn't be too sure that they would continue with this route. we might even get a more infinite darkness style face in re6r. who knows. only time will tell lol

#ask heart #heart answers #anon #leon #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #ada wong #aeon #resident evil damnation #resident evil 4 #re4r #re4make #re2r #resident evil death island #resident evil infinite darkness

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sugarsnappeases · 4 months

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hi kara im willing to DIE to hear more about that quillkiller witchhunt one omg???

HIIIII ATLAS <3333 omg there is no need for death i will tell u Everything!!!

okay so its set in the times of the witch hunts (duh lol) and bella is from this kinda wealthy family and her dad is a witch hunter and rita is like a servant sort of thing, i think i decided she's a cook for the malfoy's maybe?? but the two of them meet one day and start this like typically obsessive quillkiller vibe where they both high-key stalk each other and hate each other a bit and literally never stop thinking about each other

THEN bella finds out that rita is a WITCH!!!! SHE'S A WITCH!!!!! and she's like oh....?!?! and its what makes her realise that maybe she Wants rita, like in a more than 'i follow you around and insult you' way

so then she starts to help rita with her witchcraft things, like finding rarer herbs and things for her, and helping her to plot!! to plot and to scheme!! and they do a bunch of witchy things together and may or may not kill a man

BUT!!! BUT THEN!!!!!! cygnus finds out!!!!!! (or he finds something out at least) like he shows up and arrests bella (HIS OWN DAUGHTER!!!) and she's put in prison..... and then she gets let out bc rita finds out and confesses instead..... and then at rita's trial, bella decides fuck this and confesses too...... and then both of them get burnt at the stake!!!!!! yay!!!!!!!!!

here is a little snippet of the quillkiller first meeting for your consideration.... it is very unedited and unfinished etc but still....

It was underwhelming, the way they had met. Looking back, knowing what came of it, feeling the heat of it, Bellatrix thought that their first meeting should’ve happened on some miraculous day, should’ve felt like stars collapsing or volcanoes erupting. Instead, it was a regular Sunday afternoon, and it felt like someone bumping into her as she investigated the potatoes in the marketplace. She and her sisters had been sent out to buy their weekly wares, as they were every Sunday after church, whilst their parents DID SOMETHING. Bellatrix turned around to see if she could force whoever had bumped into her to apologise through the raising of an eyebrow alone - she wasn’t supposed to cause scenes in public, she was supposed to be a good girl and obey the teachings of the Lord and her father, good girls didn’t shout at strangers in the street just because they made her drop the potato she had been holding. “Oh, I’m so sorry, miss!” came the voice of the stranger in question, the one at whom Bellatrix was not going to shout. She had rosy cheeks and blonde hair and a look on her face that indicated she wasn’t sorry at all. Bellatrix sneered, she fucking hated people and no, she wasn’t going to shout, but also that didn’t mean she couldn’t let her displeasure be known. “Hmmm,” she said in reply, giving the woman a disdainful once over (she was dressed in a blue smock with a white apron, carrying a basketful of herbs and was definitely far below Bellatrix’s station). The woman raised an eyebrow. “Hmmm? What’s that supposed to mean?” Her voice also clearly revealed her lower status, the harshness of it, nothing of the smooth cadence that Bellatrix had had drilled into her since birth, this woman’s words sounded like bullets (THINK OF SOMETHING FITTING THE TIME PERIOD BABY) crude and violent and different. “It’s supposed to mean,” Bellatrix replied, tilting her head the side slightly, “that I don’t think you’re sorry at all”

#atlas tag #ask games #kara’s snippets

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monstrouslyobsessed · 2 years

Text

—blur the lines (between fiction and reality)

I heard you're open for 5 headcanon requests on your post, can you do a headcanon about a yandere story that involves around Vincent Valentine falling in love with the female reader from the real world and trying to get out of dirge of cerberus and into the real world —anonymous

tw / tags: sfw, gn reader, death mentions (aerith’s), obsessive thoughts, general yandere themes featured character(s): final fantasy 7′s vincent valentine, minor appearances of yuffie, cloud, and marlene minors dni.

—note: hm took some thinking for this one until i saw a series done by @/writingforatwistedworld about self-aware au’s and decided it just might work for the old boi in red. that said, this is super tame, so don’t come in expecting any spice. vincents too sweet anyway (unless he merged with chaos, thats a whole diff story lol).

》after what must have been several hundredth reset, vincent soon figured out that he was living a scripted life. —tragically, only he realized it. —or perhaps his friends and allies were living in denial. —which is probably a bliss to have.

》often, the world would alternate between several different...atmospheres. one where everything begins with a certain blond mercenary (og ff7) and one that focuses on the aftermath (the film, advent children), and there was one where he plays the major role in (DoC). —there were several more, but they were fairly rarer than the rest that he could barely remember as he hardly played a role in these. —all were painfully distinct.

》vincent was realistic at the worst of times, at least toward himself. —it became easier to disconnect himself from his emotions —and from others too. —whenever one passes from a grueling battle or something had gone terribly wrong, time would reset and correct everything to the script only the creator could read.

under the cut due to the length!

》he no longer felt any drop of sorrow for aerith’s deaths —she always came back with the hard reset from the beginning. —he lost feelings for the woman who birthed sephiroth. —it was hard realizing that the woman you loved was all but responsible for everything, choosing the coward’s path and not staying and fighting harder to ensure that her own son would have a decent childhood. —after what must’ve been 100+ resets, he started hating her too. —wishing that he never tried to help her and to leave things be.

》perhaps vincent would’ve lived a normal life —...sans being a hitman thing for the notorious company he was employed to, perhaps. —but he wouldn’t have to live with too many voices in his head, clamoring for deaths and bloodshed. —testing his sanity. —if he hadn't fallen in love with that pitiful woman and became that fucking bastard of a doctor’s test subject, he might’ve been a married man and have children of his own years later down the road. —an ordinary dream, but it was his dream. the dream that he knew he couldn’t attain, not by normal means.

》he had one normalcy though, that remained consistent throughout the resets. —you. —sometimes, he’d see your face —or, rather, your ghost. —it was hard to describe, but you were always looking on, being a specter and usually having some kind of odd looking device in your hands (console controller of your choice). —you usually sit either on your bed or a lounging chair (or so he thinks, he could only tell by your position).

》he couldn’t make out most of the details —you were semi-transparent, nothing more than a faint outline. —but vincent knew you were there. —watching him. watching everyone.

》initially, some odd resets ago upon his enlightenment of becoming self-aware, your presence disturbed him —now, your constant presence comforts him. —it helps that unlike him and the others, you were always looking a little different each reset. —that you weren’t following any script but your own. —you broke monotony of living the exact same script every reset. —is it really so far-fetched that he’d grow obsessed with you?

》he paid attention to every little detail. —in the beginning, you were hard to make out but after so many resets and his growing fixation with you, you were practically in front of him. —that you were right there, as tangible as he is. —you were within in his reach, yet when he pretended to close in to pick up an object, he swept his golden claw swept through your body and it phrased though, he cannot touch you. —he cannot hold you. —yet. 》vincent started listening too. —you were all silence to his ears, even though he saw your lips moving. —now he knew your name, your every word —your habits. —you mutter sometimes, usually complaints but also critiques. —it was through you he realized he was a fictional character in some sort of video game series.

》it was a bit of blow, because vincent always felt alive. —but the resets made sense. —how often had you played his game(s)? —...had you ever seen him as a real person?

》he always wondered. 》vincent wished he could touch you, that he could hold you in his arms. —but that was a hopeless dream, wasn’t it? —especially when he was nothing but a finite series of codes and numbers. —all of his dreams were hopeless.

》but something changed. —he saw you sobbing, barely touching your controller. —and he couldn’t move an inch from where he was. —you controlled his movements after all.

》why did you weep so? —fire consumed his heart and his skin blackened from the rising influence of chaos inside him. —who hurt you? —vincent never realized he moved against his codes, closing in to your balled position.

》his hand still phrased through you though and a stark frown formed on his pale lips. —all the characters he was surrounded by, hardly responded to his strange behavior though, stuck in the loop of their static animations. —one or two remarked on his off-ness though, yuffie in particular, but did nothing to stop him when he reached out for something invisible. —“huh, is something there, vinny?” he heard yuffie asking.

》"it’s nothing.” vincent recalled saying, shaking his head, but he was still staring at you. —those were unfamiliar words in his usual dull script, vincent later realized, when you rose your head confused. —you yelled out in shock, scrambling backward from how vincent took up the majority of your tv screen, boring holes in your face (it feels like). you never moved him? —the video game had to be glitched.

》or maybe you moved the thumbstick on your controller without realizing. —deciding to blame the foreign lines upon unknown triggers you never found until now, you took in a shuddering sigh. —wiping away the tears from your eyes, you resumed your playing, ignoring the text messages on your phone where it broke news that you didn’t need. —you needed some distractions.

》for a moment, vincent refused to move and you rose your brows in bafflement. — “is this thing on?” you smacked on your controller. —his staring was kinda creeping you out. —he (probably) wasn’t your most favorite character in the ff7 series, but you’ve found him a very compelling character. sure, the plot in vincent’s game was shite but its gameplay was, while not groundbreaking, great for its time. —you played his game often, as a good stress reliever. it helps that vincent was an eyecandy for the main character in shooting game too. —you played so much of his game that you knew every line and action by heart, so the way vincent was staring at you was...a little scary.

》had his animations ever looked so...realistic before? —before you could dwell on it further, the game unglitched itself and the character in red followed your movement inputs albeit with a good delay. —o...kay, that was weird. —the game was old though so you shrugged and paid the weirdness no more mind.

》but...since then, things started getting a little...weirder. 》vincent would turn his head to you often, or the camera anyway, and stare. —there were a lot of input lags too, though he never got injured by enemies somehow. —and sometimes he...did things on his own without your commands too. —casting fireballs when you meant him to aim and shoot his iconic three barreled gun. —granted, that was a far better decision than yours because of the explosives nearby and took all the surrounding enemies (you...forgot those barrels were there in the first place, truth be told).

》and lately... — “huh?” you blinked at the subtitles on the screen. “are those new voicelines?” —you remembered no character saying anything new. —it was only vincent who started saying unfamilair lines. —“enemies overhead.” “you missed several items 7 yards behind me.” “the turret!” “watch out, enemies incoming from the right” —“i trust you.” —why is the video game character talking to YOU?

》o...kay, maybe you should play another game. —or get a new console. —the cd hadn’t had a single scratch on it though. —you decided you were still in the mood for ff7 and resumed a savefile for the original ff7 game.

》but...even the weirdness persisted through there too. —in battles, he always turns his head to follow you/camera awaiting for your inputs. —when you tried to swap him out to another character, the option turned grey and vincent straight up refused to be removed. —and hell, you even had to play as vincent instead of cloud of all things. —did you trigger something somehow that enabled vincent being playable?

》 “what the fuck is going on with vincent?” you said aloud, baffled by yet another brand new scene with vincent you knew never occurred in the game nor was it even coded in. —you should know, you’ve enjoyed far too many playthroughs, a bunch of videos on the game hacking investigations (the discovery on aerith being initially planned to be alive to the end was startling), and played a bunch from the beginning to the end yourself. —for whatever reason, vincent confronted hojo by...himself. —no cloud, no tifa, no barret, no character but vincent and hojo. —....he shot him pointblank in his forehead.

》what the fuck? —this was well before hojo’s boss battle of all things too! —vincent’s blocky model turned up to you (seemingly) and his dialogue popped up in the nostalgic blue rectangular. “nothing’s wrong with me, —.” —you yelled, tossed up your controller, and ran.

》it could be an elaborate prank set up by those you’re close to. —but all of them were wise not to tamper with your games in any shape or form. —nor do they have any skillset to mess with the codes of either games with vincent in it. —plus, it was all too timely, and you knew you never input your real life name in the game. ever. you kept true to the characters original names in every playthrough in the classic game.

》how did vincent know your name?

》it took you a while to return to the room, sneaking over to shut off your console you earlier abandoned. —you glanced to the screen and blinked at the scene of vincent resting against a bookcase, seemingly sleeping. —...you don’t really remember him even having any idle animation in the old game, or that he’s even playable at all outside the rpg battlefields. —weirded out, you shut off the console and decided you needed a break from playing ff7 games for a while.

》it was some months ago when the oddnesses with vincent’s character in both games happened. —after playing other games, you decided you were probably going a little loopy after having a bad day while playing the ff7 games. —still, you weren’t in a mood to play either games, but you missed ff7 anyway. —you thought rewatching the film, advent children, was a grand idea.

》the plot wasn’t the best, but you loved the animation and all the tiny details the animators and artists implemented. —you lost yourself in the film, not batting an eye when vincent first showed up in the intro marlene narrated or how he glanced up his gaze to you little funny. —though it had been a long while since you’ve played this flim so you didn’t think about that unfamiliar detail. —it was when the next scene of where marlene confronted cloud with vincent that things got...weird again.

》“been a while, — .” his red eyes slanted to you, ignoring cloud and marlene’s confused looks. —okay, yep, something is haunting your ff7 collections. —you were given no time to run though, not this time, when vincent reached to your screen. —you squawked out a cry when something distorted outside your large screen. a golden claw grappled on the black frame of your television and then...

》he came out like sadako from the ring series, only —he was reaching out for you.

》before you knew it, you were tightly in his arms, his armored claw uncomfortably jabbing your back. —vincent nosed in your hair and inhaled. saying nothing at all as both of you kneeled on the floor. —you trembled in his embrace, confused. shocked. —did a fictional character literally just...came alive in front of your own eyes?

》 “finally,” vincent sighed, combing through your hair, “i have you in my arms.” —perhaps, this time, his dreams finally came true.

—end

#my writing #headcanons #headcanon #reader insert #sfw #vincent valentine #vincent valentine x you #you x vincent valentine #vincent valentine x reader #reader x vincent valentine #ff7 #Final Fantasy 7 #yandere final fantasy #not my character #gn reader #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere imagine

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iwritesickfic · 1 year

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Any of your OCs terribly sick with a nasty stomach bug and after recovering spreads it to their caretaker partner so the roles get reversed

thanks for the prompt! I took "terribly sick" very seriously, lol

Theo’s very uncomfortable, and for once it isn’t because he’s sick. It’s because Seamus is. It’s a rare occurrence - it happens maybe once or twice a year, and it almost never last more than a day or two. Rarer still is something that legitimately makes him feel awful. And something Theo’s seen only once or twice before is an actual fever.

It just so happens that they’ve hit the jackpot with whatever stomach bug he has, because he’s been vomiting for the last two days and they're going strong into day three. And he's miserable. And he's running a fever.

Since he spiked the fever yesterday he's quarantined himself in the studio. It's on their third floor, and he's told Theo to not come up under any circumstances. Sure, there's a nice couch up there and a bathroom and everything, but it makes Theo feel like shit that Seamus is all alone. Especially because whenever he's sick, Seamus makes sure he's never all alone. Still, every time he's even suggested coming up, Seamus has shot him down vehemently.

Theo's been standing on the landing between the second and third floor for about five minutes, holding a mug of tea, debating whether to go up. Finally, he decides he will.

The minute Seamus sees him he sighs.

"Baby," he says, and he sounds so exhausted and sick that Theo's regretting that he didn't come up sooner. But he's not just exhausted, he sounds exasperated.

"I'm just supposed to leave you up here by yourself?" He asks, leaning on the stair railing.

"Yes," he says. He looks like he hasn't slept, his eyes rimmed in purple behind his glasses. He's shivering in his sweatshirt. He's so pale too, all the usual color in his face totally washed out. Theo takes a few steps closer and Seamus sighs. "You do not wanna catch this, love."

"What if I do?"

"You don't," he says, voice clipped and short. He's lying on the couch that's against the back wall of the studio, his laptop resting on an apple box, another apple box next to it holding an empty mug and a few different bottles of medication. His massive gallon water bottle is there too. There's a wastebasket sitting next to the whole setup, presumably for when Seamus can't make it to the bathroom. Theo keeps walking and Seamus actually groans. "Please, T, I can't do this right now. My head kills. Just go back downstairs."

"No." Theo crosses his arms. "You don't want me up here?" Seamus sighs and rubs his eyes.

"I…" he trails off, swallowing hard. "It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make, ok?"

"Well what if I wanna sacrifice too?"

"It's different." Seamus sounds so fed up, but Theo doesn't want to drop this.

"How?"

"Because I already feel really fucking bad and I know if you get it it's gonna be ten times worse." He has a point, but Theo can't make himself care enough to go back downstairs.

"Whatever." Theo crouches down so they're face to face, and lays his hand on Seamus's forehead. Seamus's eyes fall closed and he moans softly, low in the back of his throat. The heat of his skin is shocking. "You're on fire, Shay."

"I know," he mumbles, eyes still closed.

"Well I know you probably took Tylenol already, so-" Seamus shakes his head. "What? You're kidding." Usually Seamus is extremely on top of that kind of thing.

"Can't keep it down," he says, and Theo feels a pang of worry. "I told you baby, it's bad." His voice is hoarse.

"We should get you in a real bed," he says, and starts to run his hand through Seamus's hair.

"It's not worth it to walk all the way there." It’s only a flight of stairs and a hallway, but Seamus is shaking just lying here.

"Sit up for a second," Theo says, and Seamus does. Theo settles himself down and when Seamus lays back, his head is in his lap. He sighs and curls closer to him, sighing when Theo strokes his hair. “Just let me be here,” he says softly, and Seamus sighs again, heavily, but nods.

Four days later, when Seamus is completely over his illness, Theo isn't surprised when he wakes up in the middle of the night with horrible stomach cramps. He curls closer into Seamus’s body. He's freezing, even under their heavy comforter.

Seamus stirs, his eyes cracking open.

"Mm?" He murmurs, and Theo buries his face in Seamus's t-shirt. "Shh, it's ok. You're ok," he mumbles, wrapping his arms around him and pressing a sleepy kiss to his head. He must think it's a nightmare. Theo gets them pretty regularly.

His whole body tenses and shivers when his stomach flips particularly harshly, and Seamus seems to wake up a little bit more.

"Shh. Hey," he says, voice still quiet. When a moan slips out of Theo's mouth, he starts to rub his back. "What is it?"

"Stomach," he whispers back, and Seamus sighs.

"Do you need me to get a bucket?" He asks, and Theo shakes his head. He doesn't want to throw up, even though part of him knows it's inevitable. But most of all he doesn't want Seamus to leave him. The only thing he ever wants when he's sick is Seamus's touch, Seamus's presence. He wonders if Seamus feels the same way. He should be regretting taking care of him, but it's only convincing him even more he made the right decision.

"I love you so much," he whispers, and Seamus keeps rubbing his back.

"I love you too."

He ends up needing the bucket. Multiple times. He hasn't been this sick to his stomach in years. The fever is bad too, hovering around 102 even after ice and the extra strength ibuprofen he may or may not have fully absorbed before throwing up again. They're up the rest of the night, then all through the next morning and afternoon.

He feels like death. His whole body is aching, he’s exhausted, and he’s so drained from the fever he can’t even stand. Even Seamus seems a little panicked, which is unusual considering that he’s seen Theo at his absolute worst. His instincts were right that Theo would be destroyed whatever virus this is, but still, Theo doesn’t regret it.

Even if Seamus only felt a fraction of what he’s feeling right now, it would still be hell. And Theo wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he let him go through that by himself.

Still, he’s so fucking sick. He clings to Seamus like a little kid, curled up almost all the way in his lap, shaking so hard that Seamus’s arms are the only thing keeping him from falling over.

He doesn’t feel like he’s sleeping, but he must be, because he’s having fever dreams. Nightmares, more like. He’ll wake up sobbing into Seamus’s t-shirt, cloaked in cold sweat. Once, he wakes up in the bath, shivering in water that feels like ice with a thermometer under his tongue and Seamus stroking his hair.

And of course, he’s vomiting. A lot. Anything that goes into his mouth is coming back out within the hour. Usually sooner. And it won’t stop once that mouthful of water or couple of pills is up. He’ll keep heaving until he has absolutely nothing left in his stomach. His cheeks are blotchy pink from burst blood vessels and all the muscles in his back and sides are sore.

They talk about it when he’s in the tub. It’s day two. Or three. It all runs together.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry,” Seamus whispers, and Theo shakes his head. “I am. It’s my fault. I should’ve gone to Zeke’s or gotten a hotel room or just-” His voice breaks and he stops. Theo can’t tell if there are tears in his eyes or if he’s just imagining it. “I don’t know. I should’ve…We should’ve just had a fight and maybe you wouldn’t be speaking to me but at least you wouldn’t…” He trails off.

“Don’t be sorry,” Theo says, even though his voice is so hoarse it’s more of a whisper. “I’ve gotten you sick a bunch of times.”

“Not 104-fever sick. Not…vomit-until-you-pass-out sick.”

“It’s temporary, Shay. It was worth it.”

“Don’t lie to make me feel better.”

“I’m not. I swear. You deserve…” a wave of lightheadedness washes over him and he stops, closing his eyes. “You deserve to be taken care of.” Seamus nods, but he doesn’t look convinced. “What if it was flipped? Would you just leave me?” Seamus bites his lip.

“No,” he says, voice clipped.

“Right. So shut up,” he whispers, and Seamus chokes out a laugh.

#my writing #sickfic #illness kink #whump #emeto #oc seamus #oc theo

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