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#but when I finally get AO3 figured out
taydaq · 11 months
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MORE ROMAN TITS 🗣️
Yes, they are essential to get me through the work week. ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ
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antirepurp · 2 years
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went on a run with my jojo interpretations this weekend hee hoo
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in case anyone was wondering it’s nearly five am and i’ve spent all night reading fucking icarly fanfic as if it’s not 2023 so like that’s where IM at today
#d speaks#did i know how much i cared about these characters before i impulsively decided to rewatch a show i haven’t seen since age 14??? NO I DIDNT#i haven’t watched icarly since the fucking eighth grade at BEST and that was fully 13 years ago#i figured i’d put it on for some background noise and nostalgia when it came up on netflix#HERE I AM A DAY LATER HAVING FUCKING FEELINGS ???????? ABOUT IT ?????????#getting sad about a finale i NEVER EVEN WATCHED………#debating if i should go and fucking. watch the FIVE MORE SEASONS OF THIS SHOW#plus that ENTIRE OTHET SHOW W ARIANA GRANDE I NEVER ONCE SAW BECAUSE I WAS TOO OLD FOR NICKELODEON WHEN SAM AND CAT CAME OUT#and then to find out icarly has been rebooted?!?!??? and IS CURREBFKY PUTTING OUT EPISODES OF THEUR REVIVAL???????#what am i meant to do here. watch icarly AND victorious AND sam and cat AND ICARLY 2021!?!?!???!??!??#for WHAT daina?????? a fandom with 700 fics on ao3??????????????#WHY AM I DOING THIS TO MYSELF ?????????????????????????????#i’m so out of my mind right now what the fuck has today BEEN#icarly#guess i shoudl fuckin tag that in case this is my new hyperfixation!!!!! what the fuck!!!!!!!!#this is awful i hate myself so much. why do i CARE if these characters get together they’re 13 and i was 10 years old last time i cared!!!!#i don’t even know who is endgame because i ‘outgrew’ these shows when fucking glee and jersey shore dropped!!!!!!#i didn’t watch the later seasons of icarly or most of victorious because i was too busy watching fucking teen wolf and drooling over 1d!!!!#watching fucking. game of thrones and shit!!!!!! i was Too Old For That Shit and now here i am. one month from being 27#getting all emotionally invested in this DUMB SHOW FROM MY CHILDHOOD#like what’s next daina?????? gonna watch hannah montana and go looking for some jake ryan miley stewart fanfics?????????????#watch some fucking wizards of waverly place and get really worked up about how selena and demi had a friendship breakup???????????#text my friends who were into this show with me when it was airing and see if they wanna listen to me analyze this shit??????#whilst their CHILDREN NAP IN YHE OTHER ROOM AND THEN WHEN IM DONE RANTING I CAN GIVE THEM ADVICE ON THEIR MARITAL PROBLEMS???!??!??!?!?!?!?#this is insane i’ve lost my fucking mind. i’m not fucking doing this mark my words i am NOT doing this#this is a one off i will consume the best fics of this fandom and then i will put it down and step away and be DONE i CANNOT do more#mr incredible voice i’m not…… strong enough…….#fuck i should watch the incredibles maybe THAT will fix me
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love-fireflysong · 2 years
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I am a technology genius.
Is this about getting my ps4 hdd fixed and getting all my save data back? Unfortunately no (that is still I lost cause I suspect). Is this about taking apart my computer mouse entirely cause the scroll wheel was scrolling erratically? Why yes it is!
And guess who’s scrolling smoothly once again 😎
#did i just follow a youtube tutorial for literally all of it?#um obviously#but the fact of the matter is that i fixed it#god i love doing stuff like that#the software and hardware components of tech is so fun to me#had a unit in highschool once where we were taught to build our own motherboard and solder all the pieces on#and i loved every second of it#was so fucking cool#learning the software portion in uni and how the computer calls to the motherboard and how to draw that was also super interesting#and don't even get me started on the math classes#boolean algebra was the first time i really struggled understanding math in a very long time#so when i finally figured it out after doing some extra practice questions i was so proud of myself#only unit i hated was probability but that wasn't a surprise#i know its important and useful to know but ive hated it ever since middle school lol#sql and java were fun to learn and i probably would have like c if the instructor had actually known how to teach#but he didn't and i was sadly never able to figure it out 😔#and even though i will def def def never get into website development cause css and html and javascript were my least fav languages#the knowledge i retained from that course did at least help me when i had to create my own little texting thing in ao3#only classes i legitimately hated was communications and business#god i wanna go back to university for computer science again so bad#i wanna program video games baby!#make those physics engines and tear my hair out over bugs and errors so bad#one day#one day ill go back and live my computer nerd dreams#am i chris hartley irl?#absolutely not#i just share his fascination with tech and programming and its a big reason why he's one of my fav characters obvs
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umbracirrus · 6 months
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I've basically not been on my laptop for a week and now I'm absolutely lost trying to look through my files trying to figure out where things are saved and screaming at past me for how bad my filing (or rather, naming) system is-
Though admittedly taking a break from things like writing has kinda helped with rebooting my brain a bit, I'm feeling more motivated to do things now such as writing.
I also know I've been tagged for WIP Wednesday during the week! I'll get to that some point this weekend and will look at what I've been tagged in too! 😊
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yamujiburo · 5 months
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Ketchum vs. Ketchum! Showdown in Cerulean City!
Woo! Finale time! I wanted to make this final battle feel special and give it more substance than I could do with just a comic. So! I got the help of @cyberwulf to write out this ending in fanfic form! Check it out here on AO3 if you prefer! If not, the journey continues below the cut~
prev / END
1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / [X]
James Sidestory / Meowth Sidestory
A lot has happened since our Poké Moms began their journey. After a rocky start…
“*SQUAWK*”
…they’ve managed to catch some new Pokémon…
“Run! Run! Run!”
…in their own way.
“What a cute baby! You know, I have a son, too!”
With their month on the road almost up, Delia had just one more thing she wanted to do…
“I want to beat the Cerulean City Gym!”
But little did Delia know, there was a surprise waiting for her in Cerulean City!
“MOM??? JESSIE???”
“Let’s have a double battle! You and Ash versus Jessie and I!”
“You’re on! But I’m not going easy on you just cuz you’re family!”
“…What’s going on?”
Poké Mom Adventures
EP009
Ketchum vs Ketchum! Showdown in Cerulean City!
The water of the Cerulean gym battlefield glistened in the sunshine streaming through its crystal glass roof. Both teams gazed at each other with steely determination (and some lingering confusion, in Misty’s case) as above them, the Drone Rotom announced the rules.
“This will be a double battle between Gym Leader Misty and Champion Ash, and the challengers Delia and Jessie.” It projected a holographic image of both teams. “For today’s battle, each trainer may use two Pokémon. The battle is over when all of one team’s Pokémon can no longer battle.”
“All right!” Misty declared. “This is an official League battle for the Cascade badge!”
“And bragging rights!” Jessie added with a smirk.
“We’ll see about that!” Ash retorted. Misty glanced at him, taking in his clenched fists and gritted teeth. She’d seen Ash determined before, but… there was something here that she was missing. However, with the Drone Rotom hovering expectantly overhead, finding out what that something was would have to wait.
“Come out – Corsola!”
The Coral Pokémon landed on the rock in front of her, eagerly crying its name.
“This is a water-themed gym, so I’ll go with a Water-Type,” Ash remarked. “Oshawott, I choose you!”
“That’s the spirit, Ash!” Misty exclaimed. “It’s the job of a Gym Leader to help trainers learn type advantage and weaknesses by specialising in one kind of Pokémon, and around here that’s Water-Types!”
“Water, huh?” Jessie frowned as she considered the three Pokémon she had on hand. “Well, I don’t want my delicate little Ziggy to get her fur wet.” With a flourish, she tossed a Pokéball high in the air. “Go, Venomoth!”
The Poison Moth Pokémon emerged, hovering over the water.
“It’s a shame we don’t have any Grass or Electric-types,” Delia mused. “I guess we’ll just have to do our best with what we have.” Pushing her bangs out of her face, she called, “I choose you!”
Ash and Misty’s jaws dropped as the light from Delia’s Pokéball coalesced into a very large, very stern-looking Kangaskhan.
“I didn’t know your mom had such a strong Pokémon,” Misty whispered.
“Neither did I,” Ash whispered back. Movement at the corner of his eye caught his attention and he looked down at his starter Pokémon. “Something wrong, Pikachu?”
“Pika…”
Pikachu gazed across the water at Kangaskhan, ears and tail up, alert to… something. But before anyone could figure out what had caught his attention, there was a small cry.
“Kangaskhan!”
The baby squirmed, spooked by the glistening water lapping all around the rock. She buried her face in her mother’s belly and cried again. Cradling her young protectively, Kangaskhan gave Delia an apologetic look.
“Oh, of course!” Delia exclaimed. “I’m so sorry. Kangaskhan, return.” Cupping her hands around her mouth, she called across the battlefield. “That doesn’t count as one of my Pokémon, does it?”
“Of course not, Ms. Ketchum!” Misty shouted back. “Please choose another Pokémon!”
“If she’s got one,” Ash said with a confident smirk. “I’m betting she’ll send out Mimey.”
“I choose you… Clefairy!”
“Looks like you bet wrong, Ash,” Misty laughed as Ash stared in surprise at the Fairy Pokémon.
Above them, the Drone Rotom moved into position.
“Begin!”
“All right, Oshawott!” Ash called out. “Open up with an Aqua Jet!”
With a determined cry, Oshawott blasted a jet of water across the field, hitting Clefairy square in the belly and knocking the Fairy Pokémon off the rock and into the water.
“Ash Ketchum!” Delia exclaimed reproachfully. “That wasn’t very nice!”
Thrown off-guard, Ash gulped. “S-sorry!” (Oh man - I can’t believe I’m actually battling my mom!)
On the opposite side of the battlefield, a wet and bedraggled Clefairy clambered back up on the rock ridge, scowling at her attacker.
“Shake it off, Clefairy!” Delia urged as her Pokémon did just that, sending a fine shower of water droplets flying from her pink fur. “Use Disarming Voice!”
With a deep breath, Clefairy shot a vortex of pink hearts towards Oshawott, taking the Sea Otter Pokémon by surprise and knocking him into the water.
“Good work, Deerling!” Jessie shouted triumphantly. “Now it’s my turn!” She pointed at Corsola. “Venomoth, use Poison Sting!”
Venomoth hovered uncertainly for a few moments, then looked back at her.
“It doesn’t look like Venomoth knows that move, honey,” Delia remarked.
“Well, Dustox knew that move!” Jessie protested. “Venomoth should know it too, aren’t they both Bug-types?”
Venomoth just blinked at her.
“You really don’t know what moves your Pokémon knows?” Misty asked incredulously.
“Of course I do, just – just let me think!” Jessie spluttered, clenching her fists. “All right, Venomoth – use Gust!”
Venomoth didn’t move.
“Whirlwind!” Jessie tried. “Psybeam! …Tackle?”
Venomoth looked back and forth between Jessie and the battlefield as it fluttered about agitatedly, utterly confused by the barrage of unfamiliar orders.
“This is just sad,” Misty muttered, getting a nod of agreement from Ash. Raising her voice, she called out, “Corsola! Use Spike Cannon!”
Corsola glowed, and a split second later a shower of glowing white spikes slammed into Venomoth, driving it backwards towards the trainer box.
“Oh, no!” Delia groaned in dismay, wringing her hands. “Maybe we should’ve practiced with our new Pokémon before coming here!”
“We’re not giving up!” Jessie snarled, clenching her fists. “Venomoth! Get back out there!”
With a trill, Venomoth shook off the spikes, and floated towards its opponents again.
“Corsola!” Misty called. “Hit it with another Spike Cannon!”
Corsola began to glow.
“Well don’t just hover there!” Jessie barked out. “It’s about to attack again!” Venomoth looked back at her, and Jessie gestured angrily towards the battlefield. “Just do something! Anything!”
Once more, glowing white spikes shot towards Venomoth. This time, however, Venomoth dove towards the attack, sweeping its wings in front of itself at the last minute. Blue blades of light cut through the barrage of spikes, one hitting Corsola and driving it back.
“That’s Air Slash!” Ash exclaimed.
“Air Slash, eh?” Jessie shot her opponents a triumphant smirk. “Venomoth! Use Air Slash on that pitiful pink Pokémon again!”
“Hang in there, Corsola!” Misty called as her Pokémon was driven back for a second time. “Use Recover!”
“Don’t let it recover, Venomoth!” Jessie yelled. “Air Slash again!”
As her Pokémon geared up for another attack, she noticed Delia gazing at her in rapture.
“You’re so ferocious when you battle, Smoochum,” Delia remarked dreamily. She lowered her voice, waggling her eyebrows. “It’s kinda hot.”
Jessie blushed and giggled. “Baaabe, not in front of the twerps.”
Misty wrinkled her nose in disgust. “…Smoochum?”
“Freak out later, Misty!” Ash yelled. Venomoth was bearing down on Corsola, and the Coral Pokémon didn’t have much left. “Oshawott! Use Hydro Pump on Venomoth to protect Corsola!”
Leaping high into the air, Oshawott sent a powerful jet of water directly at Jessie’s Venomoth. With a cry, the Poison Moth hit the floor between Jessie and Delia, bounced once, and fainted.
“Hey, no fair!” Jessie bellowed, stamping her foot. “I was distracted!” She recalled Venomoth with a scowl. “I ought to ground you for making me look bad!”
“This is really weird,” Misty mumbled.
“You have no idea,” Ash sighed wearily.
“All right, you big blue blob,” Jessie growled to her faithful Patient Pokémon, “get out there and let’s win this thing!”
Saluting, Wobbuffet waddled forward, straight into the water. Jessie pinched the bridge of her nose as Wobbuffet awkwardly clambered up onto the protruding rock.
“Wobbles can’t attack unless he’s attacked first,” Delia murmured to herself. “Oshawott is strong, and Corsola can use Recover to gain back health. That means I’ve got to make this next move count!” She looked to Clefairy, wet and winded but not out of the battle. It was risky, but…
“Clefairy! Use Metronome!”
“Metronome?!” Misty exclaimed as Clefairy began to move her fingers hypnotically back and forth. “Now anything can happen!”
“Hold tight, everybody!” Ash called, just as the Fairy Pokémon’s fingers turned white.
Razor-sharp leaves whipped through the air, striking Oshawott and Corsola. The Grass-Type move was too much for the dual Rock/Water Type, and Corsola collapsed into the water, fainted. Oshawott was driven back against the rock ridge, and Ash held his breath, but the Drone Rotom only counted Corsola out.
“Oshawott! You hanging in there, buddy?”
With a grimace, the Sea Otter Pokémon gave him a determined nod. “Osha!”
“Ha!” Jessie cried triumphantly. “Now we’re even!” She clenched her fists, calling tauntingly across the battlefield. “Who’s next, twerpette? Togepi? Psyduck?”
“She sure is cocky for being down to just Wobbuffet,” Ash muttered.
“Not for long,” Misty replied with a smirk. She plucked her second Pokéball from her hip.
“Go – Gyarados!”
Delia’s eyes widened and Jessie took several steps back as the gigantic Pokémon appeared in the water. It glowered down at both trainers, making Delia swallow hard.
(Now’s not the time to lose my nerve! Gyarados is just a Pokémon like any other. All I have to do is-)
“Hey!” Jessie exclaimed angrily. “No fair using such a powerful Pokémon! What, are Staryu and Starmie at the Pokémon Centre or something?!”
Taken aback, Misty gaped at the former Team Rocket member in disbelief. “Since when do you care about playing fair?”
“Since you decided to use that monstrosity on a first-time trainer!” Jessie retorted with a shake of her fist. “That’s cheating!”
Misty paused, almost second-guessing her choice of Pokémon, when she remembered who she was dealing with. Squaring her shoulders, she shot back, “You’re not a first-time trainer!”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Ash muttered.
“I heard that!” Jessie bawled.
“It’s okay, honey,” Delia murmured, placing her hand on Jessie’s shoulder. “We can beat them. We just need to use strategy!”
“Gyarados!” Misty called out. Jessie may not have been the best trainer, and her track record with him was hit or miss, but Wobbuffet could reflect almost any attack. It might just have been luck, but Clefairy’s Metronome had taken out Corsola and left Oshawott just barely hanging on. There was only one choice of target.
“Use Hurricane on Clefairy, now!”
Rearing back, Gyarados shot a powerful blast of air directly at the Fairy Pokémon, sending her flying back to the trainer box.
“Oh no!” Delia cried. She knelt by her stricken Pokémon’s side, but it was obvious even without Drone Rotom saying so that Clefairy couldn’t continue. “You did a wonderful job, Clefairy.” Recalling her Pokémon, she rose, pushed her bangs out of her eyes, and called her second Pokémon.
“Mimey, I choose you!”
Ash clenched his fists. No more surprises – he knew what Mimey was capable of. Oshawott was tough, but he’d taken a lot of damage. If the Sea Otter Pokémon only had one move left, then Ash had to make it count.
“Oshawott! Hit Mimey with Aqua Jet!”
“Mimey, dodge it!” Delia cried out.
The Barrier Pokémon leapt high in the air, leaving Ash to watch, powerless, as Aqua Jet splashed harmlessly on the ground between his mother and Jessie. But before he could call out another attack –
“Now, Mimey, Focus Punch on Oshawott!”
There was no time for Oshawott to get out of the way. Mimey dove straight down, fist outstretched, and scored a direct hit. Both Pokémon vanished underwater. All four trainers held their breath. After a few seconds, Mimey burst out of the water, effortlessly leaping onto the rock. A moment later Oshawott floated to the surface, fainted.
“Good work, Oshawott,” Ash murmured as he recalled his Pokémon. He turned to Pikachu. “Looks like my mom’s a tougher trainer than I thought. You ready, Pikachu?”
The yellow mouse nodded, one tiny fist raised. “Pika!”
“You be nice to us now, Pikachu!” Delia cheered brightly.
Jessie was less optimistic.
“Babe, this isn’t looking good,” she murmured urgently. “I’ve been beaten by that Pikachu a zillion times! And that Gyarados looks strong. And mean! I don’t know if…”
She trailed off as the other woman took her hands.
“Now you listen to me, Jessie Ketchum.” Delia gazed into her eyes, a look of fierce determination on her face. “A zillion battles. A zillion losses. Against that very Pikachu. And you never gave up. So you’re not gonna give up now! Okay?”
Jessie stared back at her. Time seemed to stand still. Delia’s fingers were warm on her own as her words of encouragement hung in the air.
“Jessie… Ketchum?”
With the briefest of nods, Delia turned to face their opponents.
“Ash honey, don’t you hold back just because I’m your mom!” she called. “We’re going to give it our all, even if we lose!”
“She’s a lot like you, Ash,” Misty laughed. As Ash tugged the brim of his hat down to hide his blush, she raised her voice and called to the challengers. “You’re doing great, Ms. Ketchum! I’m really impressed by your abilities as a trainer. Now show me you’re worthy of the Cascade badge!”
“Hey!” Jessie yelled indignantly. “What am I, chopped liver?! My Venomoth pushed your Corsola to the brink!”
Misty grimaced. This was all still too strange – Jessie was a good guy? Jessie and Ash’s mom were… partners? She struggled for something positive to say about Jessie’s performance so far.
“Uh – yeah!” she managed. “It was, uh, really great how you figured out that one move.”
Jessie put her hands on her hips. “Ugh, could you sound any more insincere?!”
With a growl of impatience, Ash cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled across the battlefield. “Hey! Are we gonna battle or what?”
“Oh, we’re battling, twerp,” Jessie shot back. “And we’re gonna win!”
Ash grinned. “You ready, Pikachu?” The yellow Pokémon turned to look at his trainer. Ash pointed. “Quick attack!”
“Ha!” Jessie scoffed as Pikachu zigzagged along the rock ridge. “Wobbuffet, use Counter!”
Pikachu leaped forward…
“On Mimey!”
Delia and Jessie gasped as Pikachu pivoted and went straight for the Barrier Pokémon. Taken by surprise, he took the full brunt of the attack, losing his balance and hitting the water.
“A fake out!” Delia exclaimed. She beamed at her son with pride. “That was so smart of you, honey! You had us completely fooled!”
“Baaabe!” Jessie hissed. “I get that you care about him – I do too – but right now he’s the enemy!”
Delia tapped her fist against her head, grinning nervously. “Oh, right!”
“This is hurting my brain,” Misty groaned.
“How do you think I feel?” Ash grumbled.
Delia took a moment to centre herself and assess the situation. Pikachu didn’t have a Type advantage, but his Electric attacks were powerful – not to mention that Mimey was still wet. Of course, using them ran the risk of electrifying the entire battlefield, including Gyarados, but only one Pokémon needed to be left standing in order for that Pokémon’s team to win.
“Mimey!” she commanded. “Use Psychic on Pikachu!”
“Mr Mime!”
Mimey fixed Pikachu with an intense stare, his eyes and hands glowing blue. Blue light enveloped the yellow mouse as he was lifted into the air. Pikachu strained and struggled, but couldn’t break free.
Ash groaned in exasperation.
“Misty, go for Mimey!” he called. “If you weaken him, maybe Pikachu can break free. Plus, he’s a lot stronger than Wobbuffet!”
Misty nodded. “Right!”
“Hey!” Jessie objected. “Just because it’s true doesn’t mean you have to say it!” She shook her fist at them. “I raised you better than that, Ash Ketchum!”
“Wha – ” Ash took a step back, flabbergasted. “You didn’t raise me at all!”
“The heck I didn’t!” Jessie retorted. “Who kept an eye on you while you twerped your way through eight regions, huh?!”
Misty rubbed her temples. The whole situation was giving her a headache.
“Gyarados!”
The Atrocious Pokémon stirred itself and looked her way.
“Use Crunch on Mr. Mime, now!”
“Oh no, not Crunch!” Delia fretted, as Gyarados reared back, a sinister purple aura swirling around its fangs. “That’s a Dark-Type move!”
“Wobbuffet!” Jessie barked. “Get between Mimey and Gyarados and use Counter!”
Saluting, Wobbuffet leaped in front of Mimey, his body outlined in orange light. Crunch hit, hard, and bounced back twice as hard. Both Gyarados and Wobbuffet recoiled from the damage.
“Wobbles!” Delia cried out, as Mimey caught Wobbuffet in his arms.
“Don’t you quit on me now, Wobbuffet!” Jessie shouted.
Wobbuffet saluted weakly as Mimey pushed him back onto his paws. The distraction worked, and Pikachu dropped back to the rock, freed from Psychic.
“Keep the pressure on, Pikachu!” Ash yelled. “Use Iron Tail on Mimey, now!”
“Quick, Mimey!” Delia shouted as Pikachu somersaulted through the air, tail glowing white. “Use Reflect!”
Pikachu hit the invisible barrier and flew backwards, landing in the water.
“Gyarados!” Misty commanded. “Use Crunch again!”
“Mimey, keep using Reflect!” Delia shouted. “Don’t let them in!” She had to think. Poor Wobbles, he didn’t have much left – one more shot from that big Gyarados and that would be it. Not to mention that if Crunch hit Mimey, the battle would be over! She’d completely forgotten Gyarados could learn that move! Oh, maybe she should’ve used Zaggy instead…
Mimey obediently continued to use Reflect as Gyarados and Pikachu attacked from either side. Slowly the invisible barriers began to box them in, till Mimey and Wobbuffet were crowded together on the rock.
“Babe!” Jessie urged. “We have to do something or we’re gonna lose!”
“I know!” Delia groaned. “I just…” She cupped her face in her hands, pulling down on her cheeks. “…I don’t know!”
“Ms Ketchum!”
Delia lifted her head.
“You can’t let us back you into a corner!” Misty called. “Use your environment to find a way out!”
Ash shot her a glare. “Hey, whose side are you on?!”
“It’s my job as a Gym leader to help trainers to learn,” Misty explained with a smile. “Did you forget?”
“You didn’t help me when I battled you for the first time!” Ash replied indignantly, poking his thumb into his chest.
Misty glowered at him.
“That’s because you still owed me a new bike, Ash Ketchum!”
“Aaagh!” Ash placed both hands on his head, tugging his hat down. “Can’t you let that go already? It got repaired, didn’t it?”
While their opponents bickered, Delia had taken Misty’s words to heart.
“Use the environment…” she mused. There was only one place Mimey and Wobbles could go – but first they had to do something about the double attacks coming their way.
“Jessie!” she hissed, beckoning her partner to come closer. “Can you have Wobbles use Counter?”
Jessie looked at Wobbuffet, sweating nervously as he stood behind Mimey. She nodded.
“Okay,” Delia replied. She whispered quickly in the other woman’s ear. Jessie grinned, then straightened up.
“Wobbuffet! Use Counter on both those attacks!”
Without any hesitation, Wobbuffet moved in front of Mimey, body once more enveloped in an orange glow. Crunch and Iron Tail came back double on Gyarados and Pikachu, sending the two flying backwards. Both Pokémon landed hard on the rock, Gyarados almost wrapping around it with the force of the blow.
“On your feet, Pikachu!” Ash called. “It’s not over yet! …Huh?”
He blinked at the empty battlefield. Mimey and Wobbuffet had both disappeared. Ash tensed as he scoured the water for any sign of the enemy Pokémon, but the surface was still settling from the last bout of attacks. The sunlight streaming through the roof didn’t help either – it made the rippling water glitter.
Misty spotted movement a second too late.
“Look out-”
In tandem, Mimey and Wobbuffet burst through the surface, taking up positions either side of Gyarados and Pikachu, trapping their opponents between them.
“Good work, you two!” Delia cheered. She pointed dramatically. “Now, Mimey – use Psychic on both of them!”
Once more, Mimey’s eyes and hands glowed. Both Gyarados and Pikachu rose into the air, enveloped in blue light.
“Great strategy, Ms. Ketchum!” Misty called, earning a dirty look from Ash which she ignored. “There’s no point going for Wobbuffet – he’ll just Counter our attacks again.”
“Right,” Ash agreed. “We’ve gotta take out Mimey!” He raised his voice. “Pikachu!”
Misty did likewise. “Gyarados!”
Delia grinned. “Just as I thought.” She looked at her partner. “Get ready with Mirror Coat!”
Jessie blinked in confusion. “…Huh?”
“Thunderbolt –”
“Hydro Pump –”
“On Mimey!” both young trainers yelled in unison.
“Mimey!” Delia called, just as both Pokémon charged their attacks. “Drop them, use Light Screen and aim at Wobbles!”
“Aim at WHO?!” Jessie exclaimed.
There was no time to explain. Everything turned on a split second. Pikachu and Gyarados began to fall through the air. Several volts of electricity and a powerful torrent of water hit Mimey’s Light Screen and barrelled towards Wobbuffet.
The diabolical beauty of Delia’s devious plan suddenly caught up with Jessie. That pair of pathetic Pokémon were in for a –
“Now, honey!”
Jessie almost fumbled the command.
“M-Mirror Coat!”
Wobbuffet glowed, shrouded in a reflective aura. Everything seemed to slow down. The attacks hit. They bounced back at Mimey. Pikachu and Gyarados fell. Ash’s mouth opened in a silent noooo.
The timing was perfect.
Gyarados and Pikachu fell in front of Mimey, taking the full brunt of Thunderbolt and Hydro Pump, doubled by Mirror Coat. The sheer force of the attacks drove them along the surface of the water, causing huge plumes of water to rise into the air either side of them. The battlefield disappeared in a shroud of surf and spray.
“Pikachu!” Ash cried out.
All four trainers held their breath as the mist began to clear.
Jessie cried out in dismay on seeing Wobbuffet floating belly-up in the water. Ash groaned on spotting Pikachu doing likewise. Draped over the rock, Gyarados lifted its head weakly, then dropped it again.
Delia scanned the water, a smile spreading across her face as Mimey swam to the rock and clambered up, standing tall with a cry of, “Mr. Mime!”
“Wobbuffet, Pikachu, and Gyarados are unable to battle,” the Drone Rotom declared, as Ash sank to his knees. “The winners are the challengers, Delia and Jessie!”
“I… I can’t believe this…” Ash moaned.
“We…” Jessie couldn’t stop staring at the battlefield, Drone Rotom’s words ringing in her ears. “…we won?” She looked to Delia, and the joyful look on her face confirmed it. “We WON!!!”
Delia shrieked as Jessie caught hold of her and lifted her high in the air, doing a twirl before setting her back on her feet and peppering her face with kisses. “Hahahaha!” She turned to their opponents, pulling down on one eyelid while sticking her tongue out. “Suck it, twe – I mean, Ash and Misty! I knew this day would come sooner or later!”
“Jessica, I know you’re happy, but don’t be a bad winner,” Delia chided gently. “Magnanimity in victory goes a long way.”
“But baaaabe!” Jessie whined. “I’ve never had a victory this magnificent before!”
Delia just smiled and gave her a peck on the lips. “I think poor Wobbles wants you,” she remarked, nodding to the battlefield. “We’ll need to get him to a Pokémon Centre with Venomoth and Clefairy.”
Jessie nodded and went to haul Wobbuffet out of the water.
“Come on, you,” she grunted as she dragged the Patient Pokémon back onto dry land. Briefly she removed her cap and wiped the sweat from her brow. Fine, so she couldn’t taunt the twerps any more. Victory still tasted pretty sweet.
In her arms, Wobbuffet stirred and smiled weakly up at her. Jessie couldn’t help but smile back.
“How about that?” she murmured to him. “You’re a winner, Wobbuffet. I bet you can’t wait to tell the others.”
He managed a salute and a quiet “Wobba…” before Jessie recalled him to his Pokéball.
Ash, meanwhile, remained on his knees in the trainer box. “I can’t believe we lost to my mom.”
“You gotta admit, that last strategy was a thing of beauty,” Misty replied with a smile. She’d made her way out to the rock and was cradling Gyarados’s head, absently rubbing its crest. The big Pokémon opened its eyes and let out a quiet rumble. “I guess now we know where you get your battling skills from, champ!”
Stepping out of her sneakers, Delia carefully negotiated the slippery rock and fished Pikachu out of the water. A couple of vigorous rubs from his head to his tail, and the Electric Mouse Pokémon opened his eyes.
“You were great, Pikachu,” Delia murmured. She tickled him under his chin, getting a weak “Chaaa” in response. She made her way back to the side of the battlefield to find Ash, Misty and Jessie waiting. “You were great too, honey.”
Ash managed a smile as she handed Pikachu to him. “Thanks, Mom.” He gasped as he was pulled into a hug.
“That was such a fun battle!” Delia exclaimed. She loosened her hold just enough to look at him. “I can see why you like this so much.”
“Watch out, Ash,” Misty teased. “You might just have a new rival on your hands!”
Ash let out a distressed yelp.
“Oh no, I don’t have time for that,” Delia assured him with a wave of her hand. As Ash sighed with relief, she cupped his cheek and tilted his head up to look at him. “But travelling around this past month and battling with you today… it’s made me feel a little bit closer to you.”
Ash blushed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
“Aw, Mom,” he mumbled with a grin.
“Ahem.”
Ash and Delia turned to see Misty holding out a Cascade badge.
“This is yours, Ms. Ketchum,” the Gym Leader declared. “You made the battlefield, your Pokémon and their moves work to your advantage. I’m impressed!”
“Oh, you’re too kind, really,” Delia replied, blushing as she accepted the badge. Its blue surface seemed to glitter in the sunlight streaming in from the roof. “I’ll treasure this, always. Thank you.”
“That’s how you win a badge fair and square,” Misty teased, shooting a wink Ash’s way.
The Champion rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
All three turned to see Jessie holding out her hand.
“What about me?” she demanded. “The perfect Pokémon battle partner? Trainer of vicious Venomoth and wild Wobbuffet? Where’s my badge?”
Misty sighed. Jessie had been on the winning team, and she had won a badge fair and square, but the whole situation was still bizarre.
“I’ll give you a badge if you explain what all…” She waved her hand between Jessie and Delia. “…this is about.”
“Delia and I dating,” Jessie scoffed with a shrug. “It’s not that complicated.”
“I got that part,” Misty shot back irritatedly, “I just…” She looked from Jessie, standing with her arms crossed, to Ms. Ketchum, who had one hand on Jessie’s hip, to Ash, who looked like he was hoping the floor would open up and swallow him. “…you know what, never mind.” Reaching into her pocket, she took out a second Cascade badge.
“I can’t believe this is happening, but… you earned this!”
Jessie let out a little cry of joy as Misty put the badge into her hand.
“Oh, Deerling, look how pretty it is!” she gushed. “Do you think maybe we could just get the prettiest Gym badges?”
“I don’t see why not,” Delia replied. “With James to run the restaurant, I can take vacations more often!”
“James is –” Misty glared at Ash, who pulled the brim of his cap down and giggled nervously. “We’re going to the Pokémon Centre and then you’re telling me what’s been going on, Ash Ketchum!”
“Let’s all go to the Pokémon Centre,” Delia suggested. “Our Pokémon battled hard today, they deserve a good rest.”
It wasn’t long before Nurse Joy’s tender care had Venomoth, Corsola, Oshawott, Clefairy, Wobbuffet, Gyarados and Pikachu feeling like their old selves again. Delia squeezed Jessie’s hand, murmuring “that’ll be you one day, Smoochum” as they watched Joy work.
“Well, we should get going,” Delia declared once they had their Pokémon back.
“We were going to stay and have dinner, Ms. Ketchum,” Misty said. She eyed Jessie reluctantly, but made the offer anyway. “…You’re welcome to join us.”
“That’s sweet of you, Misty, but we’ve been away long enough,” Delia replied, to both kids’ relief. “It’s time we headed home. Thank you both so much for such an amazing battle.” She hugged Ash tightly. “Don’t stay away too long, honey.”
“You know I won’t, Mom,” Ash replied, blushing. He shot Misty a grin. “I’ll be home right after I kick Misty’s butt in our rematch!”
“Then I’ll see you soon,” Delia murmured. She let go of her son and gave Misty a quick hug and a wink. “Try not to beat him too badly!”
“Hey!” Ash exclaimed indignantly.
Delia stepped back, joining her girlfriend near the door of the Pokémon Centre. She gave her a look and nodded to both kids. With a sigh, Jessie trudged up to Ash and gave him a stiff hug.
“See you at home, kid,” she mumbled. Letting go, she turned to Misty. “Thanks for the battle and the badge, I guess...?”
The two gazed at each other for a few awkward moments, then Jessie took a step closer, slowly lifting her arms.
“Aah!” Misty hurriedly moved back, holding her hands up in front of her. “I don’t think I’m there yet.”
Jessie dropped her arms with a huge sigh of relief. “Great! Me neither.” She offered her hand instead, and the Gym Leader shook it.
Ash and Misty stepped outside the Pokémon Centre to see them off, their goodbyes ringing in the air as Delia and Jessie got on the road. Jessie slung her arm around her girlfriend’s shoulder.
“Happy, babe?”
“Yes and no,” Delia sighed. “I’m sad my journey’s over, but I couldn’t be happier about how it went. I made three wonderful new friends, foiled a nasty poacher, and that battle today –” She clenched her fists in front of her. “ – I never felt so alive! I can’t wait to tell Professor Oak and James and Meowth all about it!” She slipped an arm around Jessie’s waist. “I’m so glad you talked me into this.”
Jessie preened. “Oh it was nothing, babe, I –”
She broke off as Delia took hold of her hands.
“Thank you for making my dreams come true,” the other woman whispered. Jessie’s heart caught in her throat as she saw tears shining in Delia’s eyes. “Not just today, but every day we’re together.”
Jessie smiled, warmth blooming in her chest.
“It’s the least I could do,” she replied. Delia deserved more, so much more, for putting up with her, believing in her, loving her. Not to mention all she’d done for James and Meowth too. Maybe one day –
- but before Jessie could continue the thought, Delia leaned up and pulled her into a tender kiss.
THE END
“Oh, I can’t wait to get home to our nice comfy bed!”
“Ugh, me too. I hate sleeping on the ground.”
“…who said anything about sleeping?”
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illusioninfnty · 7 months
Text
day 6 ; dry humping
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↠ monkey d. luffy x reader
fandom: one piece word count: 1.1k warnings: nsfw 18+, dual virgins, luffy and reader are inexperienced, jealous!luffy if you squint, takes place a bit after opla season 1 so luffy is aged up
kinktober m.list || read on ao3
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“Luffy?” You call for your captain, peeking your head into his quarters. “Is everything okay?”
You noticed that your cheery and optimistic captain had been unusually quiet the past few hours. He never had gone that long without some sort of exclamation or crazy action, and his odd behavior was worrying to you. So when he finally retreated to his room, you decided to follow to see what was up.
“Oh!” Luffy’s eyes widen, as he says your name, clearly surprised to see you. He sends you a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah! Why wouldn’t I be?” You shrug, going inside and closing the door behind you. You take a seat next to him on his bed. “I don’t know,” you start. “You just seem…distant. You can tell me what's bothering you.”
Luffy sighs, taking off his hat to run a hand through his curls. “I don’t know how to describe it. I feel just so frustrated. But no matter what I do, I can’t get rid of it!”
You were confused too, unsure why Luffy wasn’t able to brush this off like he always did. Until a lightbulb went off. You remember Sanji mentioning urges that men get sometimes, and how they need a woman to fix it.
“It sounds like you might have some tension, you know, down…there.”
Luffy pauses, taking in what you said, before his eyes brighten. “I think you’re right!” he exclaims. “Oh wow, that makes a lot of sense now.” He goes quiet again, a sheepish look spreading across his face. “I don’t know how to get rid of it, though.”
You bite your lip, heat rising to your cheeks. “I think I’m able to help you with it.”
Luffy jumps up and grasps your shoulders. “Alright!” he cheers. He sits back down next to you and looks up at the ceiling, seemingly in thought. “That actually makes a lot of sense. The feeling always gets worse whenever I’m around you. I guess you have to be the one to fix it then, huh?”
“O-oh.” You stutter. Not only did you just discover that your captain (who you may have had a tiny bit of a crush on) was sexually frustrated, but he was like that because of you. A wave of heat rushed down your body.
“Yeah.” You confirm to Luffy, hoping to not seem too excited about this whole situation. “I just have to get on top of you.”
Luffy nods, spreading his legs and leaning back on his forearms, inviting you in. You immediately notice the boner he’s sporting, which makes you heat up even more. You seat yourself right on top of it, causing the two of you to moan harmoniously.
You start to move yourself on top of Luffy, his clothed cock hitting your pussy in the perfect spot. The fabric of your underwear rubs against your clit, causing your wetness to begin to stain it.
You reach your hand down to palm him through his shorts, hoping that you're bringing him pleasure from at least one of two ways. Luffy looks up at you with curious eyes.
“How’d you know to do this?” he asks you.
“I heard Sanji talking about it. He says guys feel like that a lot. Pent up, ‘s what he called it.” He goes quiet for a moment. “Have you done this with him?”
“W-what? No!” Your hands scrunch up in his vest and you swallow hard. “This is actually my first time doing anything like this,” you admit sheepishly, eyes downcast.
Luffy grins. “Yeah, me too!” he says brazenly. “Guess we’ll figure out how to do this together!” He laughs. 
You send a matching grin back as you continue to grind on top of him. You’re practically sopping now, an audible sound happening when you rock back and forth on Luffy. His cock throbs furiously, and you gasp when he grabs your hips.
He starts to rock back onto you, pumping his hips upwards into you. You lean forward as the sensation weakens you, and Luffy buries his face into your neck.
“Feels good…” he mumbles into you. You hum in agreement as you squeeze your eyes shut in pleasure.
You increase your pace, wrapping your arms around Luffy as you both press close against the other, grinding each other uncontrollably. 
Luffy suddenly stills your hips and moves you onto the bed, face down and ass hanging off the edge. You gasp in surprise.
“Want to try this,” he breathes out as he hovers over you. You’re met with him thrusting against you from behind, hips moving wildly as he lets out low groans behind you. Luffy wraps his arms around your midsection, holding you in place.
You’re strung out and helpless as Luffy humps into you, his pulsing cock hitting against your clit. Your wetness has fully soaked your bottoms, and Luffy is able to thrust his cock between your clothed lips with ease.
Your captain moves with reckless abandon, hips jutting against your own. Neither of you can talk past groans and whines. This act feels primal, both of you desperately chasing your release.
His hands on your waist tightens as he humps into you and his groans are loud in your ear. You arch yourself into him, attempting your best to rub yourself against his cock.
He moans out your name into the crook of your neck as his body covers your own. “You feel really great,” he continues, his voice cracking. He moves faster and faster against you, seeking his peak. 
Your hands fist the bedsheet as you bounce back and forth against his thrusts and grinds against your clothed pussy. “Luffy!” you cry out. You can feel his hips start to move out of rhythm and he lets out a final low moan before you feel the stickiness of his cum seep through his shorts and onto your own.
Both of you are panting furiously, tired from your romp. Luffy rolls off of you, collapsing next you on the bed. You turn yourself onto your back and lean towards him, basking in the pleasure you just received.
Luffy turns his head towards you. “I don’t want you to do that with anyone else on the crew.” He says, with more seriousness than you’ve heard from him all night.
“I wouldn’t think of it.” You hesitate to continue as you prepare for disappointment with your next statement. “But—if you want, we can do this again soon. If you’d like to.” You mentally hit yourself in the head for stumbling over your words so embarrassingly.
He sits up, seemingly recovered from his orgasm. “Are you kidding? You don’t even need to ask! ‘Course we are!”
You laugh, wrapping your arms around your captain and giggling into his chest.
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gogogodzilla · 6 months
Text
Leave the Light On
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mike schmidt x reader warnings: nsfw 18+, continuation of this post, panty sniffing, semi-public masturbation, sex tape, consensual somnophilia part 1 ✩ part 3 ✩ main masterlist ✩ read on ao3 ✩
As soon as he awoke, he knew something had happened. His thighs and groin were covered in the sticky remnants of cum and his briefs were skewed. You’d made good on your promise, and excitement hummed under his skin at the thought. 
He was more confident that you’d taken him up on the offer when he looked in the mirror and saw the hickies coating his neck and chest. His eyes widened and his cheeks flushed as he took in the marks. 
He slid on the jeans you had set neatly on the edge of his bed and opted for a hoodie that would cover most of the marks you’d left. He definitely didn’t need Abby asking how he got them. 
His ears perked up at the sound of you coming in through the front door accompanied by hurried footsteps. Abby was talking excitedly about something and you commented here or there. 
He’d entered the kitchen, and your eyes lit up at his appearance. You gave him a devilish grin as you sat at the kitchen table, listening to Abby as she talked. 
The rest of the evening was spent with lingering glances and fleeting touches. He wanted to ruin you as soon as the two of you were alone, but you kept him at arm's length. You led him into the kitchen and retrieved something off the counter.
You handed him a paper bag, “I made you lunch. Dinner, maybe?” He nodded and went to open the bag to inspect its contents. You grabbed his wrist. “Just wait until you get to work, okay?” 
“You’re asking me to be very patient tonight,” he pointed out, sliding a hand around your waist. 
You pecked his lips and pulled him closer, “It’s worth it. Promise.” 
Once it was time for him to leave, you held the door for him and walked him to his car. You had that grin that told him you were up to no good. 
“I hope you enjoy your lunch,” you mentioned as he reached the driver’s side door. 
His eyes flicked to the paper bag clutched in his hand and back to the grin that danced across your lips. Slowly, he started to put the pieces together, and excitement mixed with something else stirred in his belly. He gave you a quick peck on your cheek and yanked open the door to his car, suddenly eager to get to work. 
He kept an iron grip on the wheel for the entirety of his drive. The paper bag sat in the passenger seat, taunting him. He was glad he was the only one in the parking lot as he haphazardly whipped his car into a spot. 
His legs moved almost as quickly as his thoughts as he entered the pizzeria. His footsteps echoed throughout the hallway as he walked toward his office. A small part of him felt embarrassed that he was so excited to see whatever was in the bag.
He forced his breathing to steady as he entered his office. Mike didn’t pride himself on being a patient man, but he figured whatever was in that bag would definitely be worth the wait. He leisurely went through the motions of his nighttime routine, checking the security cameras and making sure all the animatronics were in their correct spots. He’d hoped they would leave him alone just long enough for him to open his gift. 
Finally, he settled into his rolling chair with the paper bag in his lap. He prayed he wasn’t getting his hopes up for a sandwich.  He gingerly opened it and peeked inside. Nestled neatly among the contents of the bag was a VHS tape. His heart rate quickened as he pulled it out and read the label on the front. ‘For Mike’ was scribbled in your neat scrawl and hearts were scattered along the label. 
His hands shook slightly as he ejected the training tape from the player and slid yours in. The TV came to life and it took him a moment to figure out what he was looking at. His eyes widened when he realized he was watching himself sleep. Midday light was shining through his window, and you were grinning as you stepped into the frame. 
You were wearing a pair of sweatpants and one of his hoodies; his cock jumped in his jeans from just that alone. Such a simple sign of ownership had his breath catching in his throat as he continued to watch. You made a show of stripping for him. You hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your sweatpants and slowly tugged them down your legs. You’d taken your underwear off at the same time as your sweatpants, wasting no time in baring yourself to him. 
You had that same grin that he loved as you bent down to pick up something off the floor, giving the camera the perfect view of your ass. He felt like he was about to burst as you lifted his pants and, with a flourish, tucked your underwear into the front pocket. 
He frantically patted the front of his pants and reached inside each pocket. He released a sigh as his fingers wrapped around the lacy fabric of your panties. He pulled them out of his pocket and brought them to his nose, breathing in your scent. 
His cock pressed uncomfortably against his jeans as he watched you take your hoodie off, revealing that you wore nothing underneath it. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you as your fingers danced across your chest. He leaned back in his chair, your panties clutched in one hand while the other worked to free his cock from his jeans. 
His fingers were clumsy as he unbuttoned his jeans and yanked down his zipper. He slipped his hand past the waistband of his briefs and gasped as he finally slid a hand over his length. He watched as you caressed his thighs before moving to finally touch him. 
He tugged his briefs down and under his balls, just like you did on the tape. Your actions were gentle but precise as you stroked him. He matched your pace perfectly. Your eyebrows knitted together in concentration as you slid your hand over his aching cock. 
You pulled away, and Mike halted his own movements, a low whine escaping him. His cock jumped in his hand when you wrapped your plush lips around his cock. He swiped his thumb over the tip of his cock, matching the seductive way your tongue swirled around it.  Your position in front of the camera allowed him to see every minute detail of you bobbing your head around him, and he could already feel the familiar coil tightening in his abdomen. 
A strangled sigh escaped his lips as you drew back with a wet pop. You darted your tongue out to taste him across your lips. A shiver went up his spine at your actions. You were careful as you straddled him and drug your core against him. 
He moaned along with you as you lowered yourself onto his cock. He was slightly surprised he didn’t wake up with you above him whining like that. A part of him wished he did wake up, so he could’ve fucked you properly. 
He planted his feet and rutted his hips into his fist as he watched you create the marks he now donned. The sounds of skin slapping against skin filled his small office, and every inch of his skin burned with desire. 
He took your panties and slid them across his cock, moaning as the lacy fabric drug against his flushed skin. The feeling mixed deliciously with the smoothness of his palm, and his back arched against the chair. His jaw went slack, each breath punctuated with a needy moan and a thrust of his hips. 
With a strangled cry, he was cumming, eyes glued to your form as you fell apart on his cock. The pretty little whines you were making were going to be seared into his mind for as long as he lived. The white strings of his release covered your panties with some dripping down his fist and across his knuckles. 
He used your panties to clean up the mess he made. His cheeks flushed as the lace smeared his release over his cock. He prayed you’d leave the light on for him.  
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countcvnt · 2 months
Text
Experiment
Chapter One: Scrambled
[Poly!TF141/Fem!Reader]
Summary: Your memory is hazy, almost nonexistent, after being plucked out of a safe house and experimented on for months. When you're finally rescued you don't remember the people closest to you. Warnings: Canon Typical Violence (not much else this chapter), me using an english to scottish translator, not beta read Word Count: 3.3k A/N: Had this silly idea and turned it into a serious/angsty fic. I hope you all will like it as much as I do! Also, Reader has a call sign! It's Ace. If you prefer, you can read it here on AO3
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Your eyes are heavy, your body burns, and you can't stop shaking. You aren't even sure of where you are. Your eyes are trained ahead of you, looking at what you assume is a two way mirror. A scientist is standing to the side of you messing with some needles and medicines. Your half lidded eyes cut towards him and you see a thick blue substance in a syringe.
“What's that?” You croak, voice hoarse.
“Hm?” The scientist doesn't even look at you, “curious now, are we?” He asks, pulling the syringe up and turning to you. He doesn't answer your question though, not in a way you would like. “We are about to figure out what this is.”
‘We’. Your stomach flips. He didn't even seem to know what it was. You accept your fate. You have from the very beginning. You don't know how long you've been part of this ‘program’, and to you, it didn't matter anymore. The only thing that matters is trying to get out alive. No one seemed to be coming for you. No one has in all of the days you've been hidden away. You didn't expect anyone to save you now. So, you had decided to save yourself. Figuring out how to do that was becoming difficult though.
You know that behind that two way mirror are a bunch of guards. You know they're heavily armed. You know, no matter what they have juiced you up with, you aren't beating a bunch of armed men. So, you sit idly. Letting them poke and prod and decide you are going to wait until the perfect opportunity shows itself. You just have to hold on until it does.
A loud alarm suddenly rings throughout the building and you cover your ears, flinching. The scientist seems more agitated than anything. He doesn't seem as bothered as you are, by any means.
“Guards!” He calls out, looking towards the large mirror. “Guards?” He questions.
He puts a finger up at you, asking for you to wait a minute. As if you have any other choice. A loud bang comes from outside the room and chills run up your spine. The guard walks towards the door and he peeks out. He quickly shuts and locks the door before returning back to you. He scurries over towards the metal stand beside your seat. He grabs the syringe and picks it up.
Something clicks in you. The alarms are still blaring and the guards seem to be gone to check it out. You watch as the syringe comes towards you, headed right for your neck. You move faster than you're used to, and grab the man’s hand and push him back. A lot harder than you had meant to. He slides back and hits the wall. The syringe does not leave his hand.
You rush towards the door. You wiggle the door knob and try to rip the door open. It doesn't budge. You turn your head back and see the scientist steadying himself. Fear kicks in.
“Help!” You scream, slamming your fists into the door. “Please, help me!”
“That was really stupid,” the man behind you says. “No one can hear you, no one is coming to save you. They haven't yet, have they?”
Tears prick your eyes. You turn back around and your back hits the door.
“Y'know, I'm going to be honest.” He stalks towards you. “I know they picked you because you're so… compliant. But really? I think that big guy with the mask would have been a better choice.”
That stings. “Who?”
“Which one?”
“Both.”
“You know I can't give out classified information. But if this works, I promise, you'll know everything. As for the other guy? I'm surprised you don't know who I'm talking about. But honestly, after all the brain scrambling you've had done to you, I understand how you don't remember him…”
You lose it. Something in you snaps. You lunge forward and grab the man. The both of you tussle briefly. Until you get him pinned. Your body slams into his and you hold him down. You raise your fist and bring it down, slamming it into his jaw. Screams, pleas fall from his lips. He's begging for you to quit. But you don't. You, at that moment, decide you are going to do that to every single person who has harmed you, who caused this.
The door behind you blows open, but you don't falter. Your fists continue to slam into the scientist’s face. Until you hear someone with a Scottish accent say your name. You freeze. You turn to find a man in the doorway, his eyes wide. You furrow your brows when he whispers your name again. You move to get up, without thinking about the man below you. You don't realize he's moving. His hand comes up and the needle is pressed into your neck. Whatever the liquid was is quickly administered into your bloodstream.
You hear your name again, louder this time, but you fall to the side, eyes too heavy to hold open. Your head slams into the now bloodied white tile and you're out.
So much for escaping. _____________________________________ You wake up to beeping. A sound you had grown accustomed to recently. You feel monitors hooked up to you, and an IV in your arm. You twitch ever so slightly, every muscle in your body contracting. And then it hits.
Anger.
Your eyes snap open. Your legs swing over the side of the bed. You rip every single monitor off of you, the IV flying across the room. The monitor begins to beep loudly and as you rush towards the door, exiting the isolated room, an alarm blares. You flinch momentarily, but do not let the sound stop you. You are looking for someone, anyone to give you a hint of what's going on. Nothing around you looks familiar. But from all the ‘brain scrambling’, that's normal. You're used to not knowing as much as you figure you used to.
A man in a bucket hat turns the corner, rushing towards what can only assume is you. You let out a low growl and begin to sprint. Your body slams into his and the both of you are sent sliding across the floor. You grab his vest and lower yourself to him, all of your weight holding him down. “Where the fuck am I?”
He's looking at you with confused eyes. He doesn't make any sudden movements. He immediately presents himself as a friend, not a threat. You squint and then see someone else coming around the corner.
“Price! Oh my-” the young man freezes. He says your name and your world is instantly rocked.
You haven't heard your name in god knows how long. The Scottish man had called out for you earlier, but before that? You really can't think of a time when someone had called you something other than some experiment number. “Who are you?” You hiss.
You feel the man under you tense up. He swallows hard and he says your name this time, slow and soft. He isn't showing any signs of wanting to throw you across the room or knock the shit out of you. You take it he isn't a threat and shift.
“You don't remember me?” The man in the ball cap asks, brows furrowed. “You don't remember us?”
Your heart jumps into your throat. You push yourself off of the man below you and you stand up. You brush yourself off and watch as he stands up. He radios someone to cut off the alarm and it's promptly stopped. You are thankful for that. You stand in the hall awkwardly and watch him and the other, younger man talk to each other with facial expressions.
“You're probably hungry,” the man in the bucket hat turns towards you, “how about we go get you some food?”
You aren't stupid, you know that also entails speaking with them about everything you just went through. Despite not wanting to talk, you nod. You are hungry and haven't had an actual meal in possibly months. The man reaches out to touch your lower back, to lead you to wherever he wants to go. You flinch away from him, everything in you tensing. You can tell it's a reflex. A habit. He's used to doing that. Your eyes scan him and you're searching your brain for everything, anything about him. But there's nothing.
“Sorry.” Is all he says. He leaves it at that. “Gaz,” he looks away from you and towards the other man. “Please go grab some food and meet us back at room 2B.”
“Yes, sir.”
The tension is palpable. You want to run. Fast. You can. You know you can. But something is keeping you tethered there. You follow a couple feet behind the man who had yet to introduce himself and keep thinking about ‘Gaz’. Your mind is reeling. You keep thinking about his name, his face, everything. You close your eyes tight and inhale sharply.
“Kyle.” It's all you say. It stops you dead in your tracks. Your eyes open and your breathing is heavy. “His name is Kyle.” Your breathing is suddenly ragged. You can't catch your breath and feel like everything is crumbling in on you. You fall to your knees and try to keep yourself from wailing. “I don't even know your name!” You whisper to keep yourself from sobbing. Your voice cracks.
“Price. John Price.” He drops in front of you. He reaches for your bicep. You don't flinch away this time. “Hey,” his voice is low, “look at me.” Your eyes cut up to him. “We're gonna help you through this. I promise.” You nod. You want to trust him. You need to. You feel like you can. You inhale slowly and Price helps you up. “We're going to go to room 2B, you're going to eat some breakfast, and we're going to ask you some questions.”
You nod and start following Price again. You make it to the room in silence and Price opens the door for you. You walk in and find four beige walls, a table, and four chairs. Nothing else. Until you look in the corner of the room and find a little camera. You lock onto it and squint.
“Why?” You point at it.
“Oh,” Price walks in and closes the door behind him, “it’s protocol. Security and all.”
“Fair enough.” You sit down at the table and look at the Price. “You gonna sit?”
Price holds onto his vest and leans against the table. “Not yet.”
You shrug. “Suit yourself.” Your stomach growls. You touch it through the thin white shirt you're wearing. “You think Gaz will be here soon?”
With that, a knock comes from the other side of the door. Two knocks, a pause, and another knock. Price opens the door and Gaz walks in. He has a tray filled with food and you are growing antsy. He sits across from you and slides the tray towards you. You try to not immediately dig in, but you can't help it. You grab a glazed donut first and begin to devour it.
“Oh,” you pause your munching, “thank you, Kyle.”
Gaz freezes. His eyes widen and he turns towards Price. It's your turn to freeze. You look up at him mid bite and blink. Gaz motions towards you and asks, “Did you tell her my name.”
“No.” Price shakes his head.
“You remembered?” Gaz seems ecstatic. “What else do you-”
“Nothing.” You snap. “I don't remember a damn thing.” You huff as you move onto the muffin on the tray. You unwrap it and begin to devour the sweet. “All I know,” You speak through bites, “is that I was locked up for God knows how long and they were experimenting on me-”
“Four months.” Gaz speaks quietly.
“Huh?” You question him. “How do you know?”
“We looked for you when you disappeared. It was four months ago when they got you. You really don’t remember anything?”
“Like I said,” You huff, “I just know they were juicing me up.” Before they can question you further, a light bulb goes off in your head. “Wait.” You squint at them, “The Scottish one. Where is he?”
They tense up. Gaz talks first, “You remember Soap?”
“Huh?” You cock your head. “Is that his name? He’s the one that found me. I assume he’s here. Or did he not…” You trail off.
“No, he’s here…” Price begins, “…We don’t want to overwhelm you.”
“Oh.” You shrug. “I guess that makes sense. How am I supposed to, uh, assimilate without being overwhelmed. I mean, why don’t we just rip that band aid off?”
“Trust me,” Price locks eyes with you, “we do not need to rip that band aid off right now.”
“Okay, okay,” You put your hands up. “Do you wanna ask your questions now?” _____________________________________ “This cannae be healthy,” Soap looks at Simon.
Simon shrugs, “Don’t care.” He’s watching the cameras closely.
“Thay aren't even in th' room yit! Ye'r peepin' an empty room!” Soap’s eyes move from the screen and back to Simon.
Simon’s eyes cut from the screen and to Soap, “Shut it. Price wants us to stay away from her for now. He didn’t say we couldn’t do this.”
As he says that, the door of the room opens. Price is visible first. And then, another figure walks in. You. Simon and Soap both tense. You look directly at the camera and point, asking why it’s there. You’re so clear. Soap’s heart jumps. Simon shifts.
“She remembers Gaz’s name.” Simon speaks through gritted teeth.
“A'm sure that's a targeted attack against ye, Ghost.” Soap is trying to find humor in this situation. He’s grasping for straws.
Simon is not enjoying it. “Shut the fuck up, Johnny.” Simon growls.
Soap focuses back on the screen and notices you aren’t even sure how long you’ve been gone. As Gaz gently tells you four months, Simon grumbles the amount of time at the same time.
“If Price doesn’t wanna overwhelm her, why the fuck is Gaz in there.” Simon is seething. “Why can’t we all be in there.”
Simon shuts his mouth as you say they had been juicing you up. He tenses. Soap does the same. They both need to know what it means. Simon feels like he’s going to combust. His eyes narrow once you mention Soap. Soap looks like he’s about to jump with joy, until he realizes you don’t actually remember him. Not past him saving you.
“Fuck this,” Simon pushes past Soap. “I'm going in there.”
“Hey! Price said-” Soap starts. He doesn't finish. “Fine-” he rushes out behind Simon. He guesses they're just going to bust into the room and Simon is going to make you remember. He isn't quite sure what Simon has planned really. But he decides he can't sit in the security room and just watch. He needs to see you.
So does Simon. _____________________________________ You reach for a fork for your eggs and lean back in your seat, plate in hand. You relax (as much as possible) and you look at Gaz and Price. You are studying them. Really digging into their features. You want to remember so badly. You have no reason to trust that they used to know you, a part of you is ready to attack in case they are lying. But most of you trusts them. How else would you remember Kyle’s name?
“Listen,” Price inhales sharply, “we want to help you, without overwhelming you. We need to know what you know.”
“Listen,” You mimic his tone, “I don’t know what you aren’t getting. I remember nothing, nada, zilch.”
“Okay,” Gaz interjects, “What’s your last memory?”
You're sent into deep thought. You place your hand on your chin and look off. “Well-” You begin, “I remember-”
The door of the room busts open. You tense, ready to pounce. Your palms hit the table and you stand up straight. The fork clangs against the ground. Two men walk into the room. The one who saved you and-
Words play in your head over and over again. ‘I think the big guy with the mask would have been a better choice.’ For a moment, your world is completely rocked. ‘I’m surprised you don’t know who I'm talking about.’ Your eyes lock with the large beast of a man. His eyes soften. Briefly. You swallow hard.
The entire room is silent. Until you open your mouth. “He wanted you…”
“What?” Soap is the first to question you.
“The scientist, the one doing the experiments on me-” You are tense again “-he didn’t want me.” Your head hurts. You place your hand on your forehead and groan. You are thinking too hard. Remembering too much.
“Hey,” Price motions for you to sit down, “it’s alright.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Ghost,” Price looks over his shoulder, “not right now.”
Ghost stiffens. He doesn’t say anything else. You sit down and inhale slowly. Your eyes move from the floor, past Price, and they hit Ghost. You feel something stir inside you. Like your emotions know more than your brain does. You want to scream. Every single man in that room seems to think so highly of you, and you don’t even remember them.
“I think I need to sleep.” Your voice is a whisper.
You don’t know the last time you got a good rest. You figure sleeping will help you. Price begins to grab for you, before freezing. You lean into him, letting him help you up. Price moves past the men and you tag along beside him.
“I’m going to show you where your room is. If you need anything, please let one of us know. But for now, we’ll leave you alone.” You are led down the hall and towards the barracks. It’s silent between the two of you, until you reach your room. “You have this room to yourself. I had some things rearranged, if it needs to be changed, and you aren’t comfortable alone, let me know.”
You nod at him. “Thank you. For everything. I’ll see you in the morning?”
“0600 sharp.” Price begins to leave.
“Wait,” You stop him. “You don’t happen to have my phone, do you?”
Price turns back to you. “No, that was not recovered. But, we can get you a new one. I’ll work on that while you rest.”
You nod. You head into your room and close the door behind you. You look around. There are two beds. You groan at the fact you can’t remember who used to be your bunk mate. You’re scraping through your brain, really searching for just an inkling of a memory. But… Nothing. Nothing at all comes to your mind.
Nothing about the four men convinced that you know them, anyway.
You lay down in bed and cover up. It’s not the most comfortable bed you’ve ever been in, but it is the most comfortable bed you’ve laid on in the last four months. Your head hits the pillows and you close your eyes. It takes longer than you’d like to go to sleep, but not as long as you expect it to take. You only hope you don’t dream of anything at all. You can’t be that lucky. _________________________________ “Price!” Simon shouts at the captain. His face contorted with anger and pain, and he is more glad than ever that they can’t see him through his balaclava. “What the fuck was that? We need to know-”
“No,” Price stops him immediately. “We do not need to stress her out further. We will figure this out eventually, on her time.” Price reassures his team. “You did not see the look in her eyes, the way she tackled me to the floor-”
“She what…?” Soap tenses.
Simon bristles instantly. He’s seething again. “What do you mean?”
“Ghost,” Gaz starts, “I know you want to know what happened. We all do.” He’s trying to get through to him. “But something is not right. The way she easily took Captain Price down- That wasn’t the Ace we know.”
“Of course!” Simon growls, “She was gone for four months, being poked and prodded-”
“Ghost,” Price interrupts, inhaling sharply, “she pinned me down and I could not get up. They did more than poke and prod at her. They-”
It clicks. “They were making soldiers… Enhanced soldiers.” Simon whispers. His face contorts again, this time with confusion, “Why did they pick her?” He remembers what you said. ‘He wanted you.’ Simon momentarily feels a pit in his stomach. “Ace couldn’t have been the only one… There’s no way they did this experiment on one person.”
“She was the only one at the underground compound.” Soap shifts. “Maybe she was the only success?”
Simon is stuck on why they picked you. It’s not like you weren’t capable. But you were never on the field fighting for your life. You were always on the sidelines, helping them get into the places, helping them get information. How had they spotted you and decided you were the best candidate? He knows that question is going to keep him up at night.
“Come on,” Price brings Simon back to reality. “We got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”
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angelltheninth · 10 months
Text
One Inch at a Time
Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, first time (with Miguel), size kink, cockwarming, gentle sex, nipple, cock riding, affirmation, porn without plot
Word count: 1k
Ao3
A/N: I think Miguel has a real gentle side to him when having sex cause of his size.
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“Wait, wait, wait.” Miguel hissed as he watched you position yourself on top of him. Normally he would be on top but he figured since you commented on never having someone as big as him before it would be best to let you ride his cock at your own pace. He couldn’t stop his big hands from shaking as he grabbed hold of your hips, lifting you up, the tip of his cock brushing against your clit and your slick dripping down on it and down his length, “Oh fuck.” His cock pulsed with need.
He couldn’t just bury himself inside of you, he needed to wait, for your sake.
“Miguel. What’s wrong? You said I could ride you.” He’d been fingering you and eating your pussy for the past hour or so, leaving it slobbering wet, “If I’m not wet enough now I don’t think I’ll ever be.” There was also his cock, with the head sticky with pre-cum, looking so tasty. You knew well how tasty he was, you spend many nights fucking your fingers and toys while he fucked your mouth, but now was finally your pussy’s turn.
Eagerness aside you knew he would be a lot for you to take, most your toys paled in comparison to his size and thickness. It was a little scary when you saw him for the first time but you sucked on his cock like your life depended on it and have only gotten better at it since.
One of your favorite ways to suck him off was while he was in his chair, your knees propped up on his shoulders and his hands holding your ass cheeks firmly, his tongue poking, licking and prodding at your pussy, your tongue vibrating against his cock from the mutual pleasure. You watched him fuck many if his toys from the videos you sent each other too, imagining it was your pussy instead. “Gonna fuck you just like this sweetheart, just like this.” Miguel would promise as he would unload into the toy, showing you how much flowed out after.
“I did say that, and you can ride me. I... don’t want to see you hurt yourself. I know I’m a lot and there no need to take all of me.” He was always mindful of his larger size in comparison to you. The fact that he could toss you around like a ragdoll, or use you like a fuckdoll in this case made him mind go places he was scared to bring you along for. “If I hurt you... I wouldn’t forgive myself. This is supposed to be pleasurable for us both.”
“And when have you denied me my pleasure, Miguel? Did I ever tell you I was unhappy with your performance? Were you with mine?” You teased as you tried to break free from his hands, only riling him up further.
“You know I’m happy. Promise me to go slow.” This felt like something you should be asking him, he’s the one with the massive cock. When you smiled and nodded, batting your lashes at him you felt his grip let up, not leave but ease a little. With a deep breath and an encouraging smile you stretched yourself around the tip, “You have no idea how much I want to go all in. I’ve been thinking about fucking that pussy for months now.”
Shit, you thought you could take him easier. Your dildos don’t do him justice at all, and after this you know for sure that they won’t. “I wanted your cock so many times Miguel, on so many nights. When I’d see you walk back I wanted to drop down and suck you off so bad. You drive me crazy, not having your cock drives me crazy.”
“How do you think I feel?” Miguel’s eyes roamed your body, taking in all the hickies he left so far, going all the way down to your clit, “With a body like that it’s a miracle you haven’t brought me to the brink of insanity yet. Every time I see you my cock gets hard, its impossible not to think about fucking you day and night. Although I don’t think your body can handle that.” He had such a smug aura about him as he gloated about his stamina. Cocky, for good reason too.
“You let me worry about what I can or can’t take okay? You stay hard for me hm?” Yeah, like you needed to tell him that, he had the opposite problem. “You... feel... so... good... inside... me.” With every word you sunk down a little more, your whimpering painful and a big distraction for Miguel.
“Stop if you can’t-”
“I can!” You persist, taking more before you have to stop, your pussy clamping down around his cock, your nails scratching down his abs, leaving marks you didn’t mean to leave. “S-Shit. Sorry. Let me try again.” You gave him a small smile, your body trembling above his.
Miguel bit his lip and tried to soothe you by massaging your thighs. His contact was reassuring, as was the warm way his eyes looked at you. Maybe you didn’t have to take him but you wanted to, more then anything you wanted to feel his cock fully sheathed inside you and... “Fuck! Oh my god... yes...! Finally where you belong.” You almost felt dizzy, orgasming as soon as he was inside, “N-Not yet.”
“Oh. Hey. Look at me.” You let tears of frustration run down your cheeks when he cupped your face, “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m really, really proud of you okay? You’ve a good girl for me, taking me all the way like this.” Miguel beconed you closer for a sweet, comforting kiss, “Rest. My cock will stay hard for you when you’re ready to go again.”
No one had a boyfriend more understanding then you, in any universe. You snuggled against Miguel’s strong, soft chest, your walls pulsing and trembling around his cock, feeling little squirts of cum pumping inside of you but for all that Miguel didn’t move, he wasn’t tense but fully relaxed underneath you, his knees bent just a little as his hands explored your bare back, shushing an comforting you. You gave him your all, which is more then he ever dared to ask, he couldn’t be happier.
6K notes · View notes
slut4thebroken · 2 months
Text
Sweet Dreams
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Pairing | Tommy Shelby x daughter!reader
Summary | Tommy let’s you try some of his whiskey.
Warnings | Smut, 18+, sexual content, actual incest, technically non con, large age gap (unspecified), breeding/housewife kink, somno, underaged drinking (pretend the legal age is 21 over there lol), kissing, praise, innocence & corruption kink, daddy but not the kink, I want him to take advantage of me so bad😭
Words | 2.4 k
Notes | I shouldn’t even have to say this but this is a work of fiction. Please remember that lmao. Also it’s unspecified but reader is at least 18 so don’t come for me 💀 It’s also unspecified on whether reader is his bio daughter or step daughter so feel free to choose lol.
Ao3 link | <3
Masterlist
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(You can only read this fic if you pinky promise to help me come up with a different title)
You were lying on his chest as he read a story to you, trying to get you to finally fall asleep. But your brain was too awake. When he grabbed his glass from the side table and paused reading to take another sip, you decided to ask him. 
“What’s that, daddy?” You angled your head up to look at his face. 
“It’s whiskey, love.” Your eyes moved between his face and the glass. 
“Can I try some?” You finally asked, making his brows shoot up. 
“This drink isn't for little girls. You’ll have to wait until you’re older.” He chuckled, making you frown. 
“Why can’t I try some now?” You pouted. 
“Because you’re too young, love. Give it a couple years, then I’ll let you have some.” You turned onto your stomach and leaned up to face him better. 
“Please, daddy?” You gave him puppy dog eyes and he stared at you for a moment, then let out a breathy laugh and shook his head. 
“Alright, fine. But just one sip.” You beamed at that and grabbed the glass when he handed it to you. Before tasting it, you decided to sniff it first, noting that it smells like how he sometimes smells. Not able to wait any longer, you took a small sip, then immediately scrunched your face up in disgust. He laughed quietly and you swallowed it, but that only made it worse. 
“It burns!” You whined, coughing lightly. 
“You get used to it, little one.” He said with an amused smile. “Try some more, it should be better this time.” You hesitated, but took another sip. It wasn’t better, it still burned a lot and you could barely take it. “Good girl. Have a little more.” 
“Daddy, it hurts.” 
“I know, love, but if you drink more it’ll stop hurting. Don’t you trust me?” You averted your gaze and bit your lip. After a moment, you brought the glass up to your lips again. “That’s my girl.” He said proudly, making you blush. You coughed again, but he wasn’t wrong, the burn was just barely starting to improve. 
“You’re such a good girl. Drink a little more for me, eh?” You pouted, but nodded and took another sip, this one slightly larger. “There you go… How do you feel, princess?”
“Warm.. n’fuzzy.” That made him laugh quietly. 
“Yeah?” You nodded. “That’s good. Can you do one last thing for daddy?” 
“Mhm.” You could feel yourself getting a little drowsier and you weren’t sure why. 
“Can you finish the rest for me?” You looked at how much was left and whined quietly, but agreed. Figuring it’d be better to get it over with quickly, you chugged the rest, ignoring how much your throat was hurting. “Good girl. You are such a good girl for me, baby.” He took the cup and set it on the side table, along with the book he was reading to you. “Tell me how you feel now.” 
“Mm… sleepy.” You mumbled, making him smile. 
“Don’t try to fight it, love, just go to sleep. It’s past your bedtime anyway.” You let out an incoherent agreement, then laid your head on his chest again, letting him wrap his arm around your shoulders. You weren't so tired that you fell asleep instantly, but you were tired enough where you could barely keep your eyes open. 
Tommy stared down at you as he stroked your hair, soothing you to sleep. You turned more on your stomach and lifted your leg so it was bent and resting over his legs. One of his hands moved down to your bare thigh and rubbed slowly, staying below the hem of your night dress. 
“My sweet girl.” He murmured, kissing the top of your head. You hugged him tighter and he was suddenly very aware of your breasts against his side. “Getting so grown up…” He sighed solemnly. “Thought I told you not to do that? I oughta punish you for disobeying your father.” He suddenly squeezed your thigh and you let out a quiet noise, but didn’t react any other way besides that. 
He kept dragging his hand up and down your thigh, pushing your dress up a little higher each time. For a while, he continued that, waiting until your breathing slowed and you started to fall asleep. He smiled at the sound of your soft snores and brushed your hair away from your face as he looked down at you. Cupping your cheek, he brushed his thumb over your bottom lip— so soft… so kissable. He had to shake his head to get rid of the thought as soon as it appeared. You’re too innocent and pure. He’d never be able to forgive himself if he took that from you. But fuck… 
You smiled a little in your sleep and hugged him tighter, pushing your cunt against his hip as your leg rested on his crotch. He stiffened and bit his lip, trying to control his thoughts and his body. But he couldn’t help it when his hand drifted from your cheek to the strap of your dress. He teased it a little, silently debating if he should… It didn’t take much convincing though. 
Slowly pushing the strap down your arm, he just barely brushed his fingertips on your skin. He continued dragging it down until the nightie was being pulled as well, slowly exposing more of you. He only stopped once it was resting on your waist. 
“Fuck.” He hissed, staring at your young, perky breast and hardened nipple. He lowered his hand so it was holding your hip, then raised the one on your thigh to lightly trace over the soft skin. You just looked so young— so little. Especially when he cupped your breast, completely engulfing it in his hand. He knew that your pussy would be just as little. The thought had him biting his lip to stifle a groan, feeling his cock twitch in his pants under your leg. 
He squeezed and groped you slowly, being extra gentle while he still had the self control to do so. When he moved his attention to your nipple and started rolling it between his fingers, you let out a quiet little sound, just barely audible. 
He placed his palm flat on your chest and slowly snaked it down your body, to the bottom of your dress. Without any hesitation, he snaked his hand back up, taking the fabric with it. He cursed under his breath as more and more of your body was becoming visible.
You were perfect. You looked like innocence personified. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he gently pushed your shoulder to get you to lay on your back, making you whine quietly. 
“I know, sweet girl. It’s okay.” He whispered, kissing your head as he turned on his side to face you. He ran his hand over the soft skin of your tummy and down to your hips, where the plain cotton panties rested. “You’re so beautiful.” He murmured, almost dreamily. As his hand continued to explore your body, he tugged down the other side of your dress, then moved his head closer and gently kissed your nipple. He took it into his mouth, suckling on the hard bud and moaning quietly against you. The only reaction you gave was a soft sound and a small shift of your body. 
“Are you gonna let daddy see your pretty pussy?” His voice was quiet, but thick with arousal. “Shake your head if you don’t want me to.” He chuckled quietly, as he kissed over your breast, just enjoying having his lips on you. When you didn’t respond, he got up and moved between your legs, settling on his stomach between them. Rough hands were placed on your thighs, prying them apart to give himself more room. 
He leaned down and inhaled deeply, savoring your scent. With a low groan, he started mouthing at your cunt, licking and sucking through the panties just to tease himself. Your hips squirmed a little and a quiet moan left you, making his eyes snap up to your face, but you were still fast asleep. After only a few more seconds, he pulled back so he could move your underwear to the side, exposing your glistening cunt. 
“Do you like when daddy touches you like this? Is that why you’re so wet already?” He asked teasingly, not expecting a response. Using his thumbs, he pulled your folds apart, giving him a better view of your untouched pussy. “My perfect little girl…” He sighed, unable to tear his eyes away. 
He moved his thumbs closer and pulled your hole open a little, imagining how it’d look stretched open on his cock. The thought had him grinding against the bed like a fucking teenager. He desperately wanted to force his fat cock inside, split you open and push it in deep. He wanted you to cry and beg him to stop, to tell him how much he was hurting you. 
He wanted to bury his cock in your torn up, used little pussy, press the tip right up against your cervix and fuck you full of his come. He wanted to give you load after load, not stopping until he fucked a baby into you. Even though, realistically, that could never be allowed to happen, he enjoyed picturing you with a round belly, your breasts swollen with milk. He wanted to keep you at home, safe from the world, to raise all of the babies he fucks into you, cook him dinner every night, drain his balls whenever he needs it. 
“Fuck—” He choked out, suddenly getting on his knees between your legs, opening his pants to free his cock. He stroked himself slowly a few times, gaze dragging all over your body. “See what you fucking to do me?” He hissed, slapping his cock on your clit a few times. Practically holding his breath, he dragged the tip through your folds, covering himself in your slick. He held his cock right up against your entrance, breathing heavily and closing his eyes, shaking his head to convince himself not to do it. 
He’d hate himself for the rest of his life… But would that be worth it to feel you stretched past your limit around his cock? 
“No.” He decided, clearing his throat and opening his eyes again. “No. Not— not yet…” He leaned over your body, keeping his length firmly between your cunt and his stomach, then started grinding slowly. He watched your brows scrunch together a little when you felt the constant rubbing on your clit. 
Dragging his gaze over the rest of your face, he finally settled on your lips. He leaned closer, trying to steady his breathing as his eyes grew heavier until they finally shut, only a second before he pressed his lips to yours. You didn’t kiss back— obviously— but he enjoyed feeling your soft lips against his. Growing needier, his hips sped up as he deepened the kiss, licking into your mouth, practically devouring you. 
You let out a muffled sound and started squirming a little, making him pull back. As he panted, he watched your heavy eyes trying to flutter open. 
“Daddy?” You mumbled, voice laced with sleepiness. “What…” You trailed off, unable to get out any other words, and he shushed you softly. 
“Don’t worry, little one. I’m here.. you’re okay.” He murmured, kissing your forehead and cupping your cheek, the movement of his hips never faltering. “Just go back to sleep. You’re safe with daddy.” And you believed him. You stopped trying to open your eyes and relaxed into the bed again. He resumed the kiss, keeping the intensity from before as he pushed his tongue in your mouth and moved his hand from your cheek to your jaw to tilt your head up a little more. 
“Daddy…” You tried to say, voice coming out in a pathetic, muffled whine. He hummed in response, not pulling back to bother with verbally replying. His free hand moved to cup your breast, groping and kneading until you were letting out quiet little sounds into the kiss. You whimpered when he started pinching and pulling on your nipple. 
“Shh… It’s okay, love.” He said softly, only pulling away to speak before immediately diving back into the kiss. His hand strayed from your breast, dragging all over your body, feeling every inch of skin possible. 
He broke away from your lips so he could trail kisses along your jaw, then down your neck. His cock throbbed at the idea of covering you in marks— claiming you so everyone knew who you belonged to. But he knew he couldn’t if he wanted this to happen again. So he continued kissing your skin, inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume. Everything about you was absolutely perfect. 
“I can’t wait to feel your cunt.” He whispered into the crook of your neck, his breathing growing more labored. “You’re such a good little girl, aren’t you? And all mine.” He was rambling as he neared his release, far quicker than he would’ve liked. “All fucking mine. You belong to daddy, eh? These perfect tits,” he suckled on your nipples, quickly and eagerly, “belong to daddy. Your pretty little cunt belongs to daddy.” He growled, cock twitching at the thought. “You’re mine.”
He cursed under his breath when he felt his balls tighten up. Lifting himself so he was sitting on his knees, he rapidly fisted his cock, keeping your panties pulled to the side. As soon as the first ropes of come shot out onto your cunt, he let out a low groan at the sight. He grunted and moaned, breathing heavily as he watched all of his come land on your folds. He waited until the last drop beaded on the tip, then dragged his cock through your slit, spreading his arousal. He moved it down toward your hole and just barely pushed his cock forward to get some of it inside.
“Good girl.” He said through a heavy breath, admiring you for another moment before fixing your underwear and night dress, then tucking his cock back in his pants. He stopped again and just stared at you for a few seconds. Your cheeks were a little flushed from the alcohol and probably also the stimulation on your clit, and your lips were just barely parted as you breathed quietly. “Made daddy feel so good.” He whispered as he leaned down to kiss your forehead. You let out an incoherent sound, making him smile. “Sweet dreams, little one.” 
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astupidweeb69 · 4 months
Text
The Roommate (Dark!Ticci Toby x F!Reader)
NSFW One-shot
Author's note: This is my first time writing smut, so sorry if this turned out bad. It's also way longer than I thought, hopefully there aren't any spelling errors. Cross posted on my AO3 account.
Warnings: Swearing. Toby being creepy, he hurts the reader, blood kink? unprotected sex, creampie, biting, it's just... a lot. (4,519 words) - Minors DNI!
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___________________________________________________________
Your brother hated his new roommate.
From what you gathered from the phone calls you two had, you knew he kept to himself, was kind of creepy and left the occasional mess in the kitchen. Your brother had tried to include him when he went out with his other college friends, but he always refused. The guy was gone at odd hours during the night, and smelled like dirt and pine.
You told him it was his own fault for posting an ad for a roommate on Craigslist.
It wasn’t all bad though. He paid his rent on time, always in cash - which he slipped under your brother's bedroom door at the end of every month. Plus, he had insisted on not signing any formal documentation. The lease they had was just a last minute document drawn up for a short term stay. 
Your brother would only have to put up with him for 6 months. Then he’d be gone.
But hey, beggars can’t be choosers. And your brother needed someone to pick up part of the rent last minute.
After a few months it had seemed like he’d grown accustomed to the strange ‘twitchy’ man he lived with, that is, until you told him your plans to visit.
You finally got some time off, and it was the only chance you’d get to see him. So when all the hotels in the area were fully booked you were not about to give up. And….your brother’s place had a perfectly good couch available, right?
He was reluctant at first, but after much pleading, he finally agreed.
On one condition.
Stay away from Toby.
You figured he was just being overprotective. It was kind of sweet, but he’d never been that adamant about you not talking to someone before. There must have been something seriously messed up with the guy. And to be perfectly honest, it made you second guess whether you’d actually go through with the trip out there.
But you already bought the plane ticket, and you couldn’t let that money go to waste.
So now you sat in the passenger seat of your brother's truck, the two of you making idle chit chat as he drove you back to his place from the airport. 
He talked about school, the classes he was taking, what parties he’d been going to, and fraternities he’d been considering joining. That last part earned him some of your teasing about becoming a beer pong loving, “Frat Bro”.
Only after a few beats of silence, you decided to ask him something that had been bugging you since your arrival. 
“Your roommate knows I’m staying at your place, right?”
It was a simple enough question. The last thing you wanted was to intrude on someone else’s living space after all.
You saw your brother grip the steering wheel harder. “Yeah. Toby should know you’re coming.” His response was curt and lacking his previous joyful tone.
“You two fighting or something?” 
Your brother sighed. “No just,” He paused for a moment, and glanced at you. “He’s been acting weirder than usual.”
“Weird how?” 
He didn’t say anything for a while, instead mulling over his choice of words. Not wanting to scare you, but still wanting to give you a heads up of the situation. “He’s been talking to himself. A lot.”
“That’s not that bad. Lots of people do that.” You don’t know why you felt the need to defend a person you hadn’t met yet.
Another pause. This one is longer than before.
“You haven’t heard what he’s been saying.”
______________________________________________________________
The road ahead was dark, lit up by the dim headlights of the car. The only thing out here now was trees, broken up by the occasional house. It was definitely far from campus.
The driveway was gravel, the truck rocking back and forth from the potholes and uneven terrain, finally coming to a stop in front of the house. Painted a dull plain white, one story, rather small, but it would do. It’s not like you were expecting a mansion.
After the car came to a stop, you grabbed your luggage from the backseat, following your brother to the front door where he quickly unlocked it. 
The living room was sparsely decorated, with an old brown couch in the center, a small television and a coffee table littered with cans and half finished drinks.
It completely lacked a homey vibe. Definitely felt like a typical bachelor pad. You nudged his shoulder. “I love what you’ve done with the place.”
“Hey, I’m not majoring in interior design.” Your brother shot back, beginning to walk away past the kitchen, calling out to you. “I’m gonna go to bed.”
Your eyebrows furrowed with a look of disappointment.  “Already? I thought we’d, like…. watch TV or something?”
“Next time don’t get such a late flight.” His face stretched into a yawn. “There’s plenty of blankets in the closet. Try not to make too much noise.” Disappearing behind the door of his bedroom, he left you standing in the room alone with your bags.
Time for bed I guess. 
You sprawled yourself out on the couch, placing a pillow on the armrest, and rolled out the fuzzy blanket you’d found over your body. You turned to face the front door. The room was pitch black, with a few beams of moonlight split up by the venetian blinds.
You picked up your phone from the coffee table by your side, figuring you could watch a few videos before you fell asleep.
The screen lit up, temporarily blinding you before your eyes adjusted. Mindlessly, you scrolled through youtube to find a thumbnail that would spark any interest.
You were about to click one, when you heard someone at the front door. Your eyes widened briefly, and you quickly shut your phone off. You don’t know why. It wasn’t like you were a kid and your mom was coming into your room to see if you were actually asleep. But it felt like you needed to shut your eyes.
So you did.
The door opened slowly, whoever it was trying to remain undetected. 
However, the scent that followed gave them away immediately. You actually had to stop yourself from reacting. It was a mixture of BO, dirt, and something else. Something dead.
Without even having to look, you knew it was Toby.
Footsteps, careful and calculated. The floorboards creaking. 
You waited for him to walk by, expecting him to go to his room so you could continue playing on your phone.
But he didn’t.
The movements stopped halfway through, and you heard him, on the balls of his feet, making his way over to the couch you were on.
The fuck?
You felt your throat dry up. You wanted to swallow down your nerves, but you couldn’t react. You had to continue pretending, right?
You could hear him, his voice low and soft, like velvet. A boyish tone, the occasional word being broken up by some kind of stutter, muttering things you couldn’t make out.
He stopped when he got to your side, standing right in front of your face. 
If you opened your eyes right now you’d probably see him peering down. His jeans dirty and torn, honey brown stare filled with curiosity, looking at the glimpses of your curves that peaked through the blanket on top of you.
A hand reached out. 
Cold, yet somehow clammy… texture rough and calloused. 
He was touching you. 
He was touching your face.
Don’t move. Don’t you dare even flinch.
“M-must be the ssss-sister…”
That was the first clear sentence you could understand.
He retracted his hand. But you could still hear him, the heavy breathing. 
His whispering.
“Soft”
Then he left.
Only afterwards did you realize you’d been holding your breath.
______________________________________________________________
“You look awful.” Your brother commented when he saw you the next morning.
It was true that you barely slept that night, made obvious by the bags under your eyes, and the change in your complexion. The interaction with the stranger, the one you’d been warned of,  had plagued your mind, stirring up thoughts that kept you awake. 
You grabbed a coffee mug, pouring yourself a glass, before joining your brother at the kitchen table.
From this angle, you had a clear view of the hallway. There were three doors, one must have led to the bathroom, and the other remaining two were the bedrooms. 
You only stared at one of the doors though. The one leading to Toby’s room. 
You knew, at some point he’d emerge and you’d finally be able to put a face to the name. A face to the hand that touched you.
For a moment, you wondered if you should tell your brother what happened. He’d probably flip out, maybe even confront the man. 
So, despite your better judgment, you decided to keep it to yourself. 
He only touched your face. Sure, it was creepy as hell, but you didn’t want to cause a fight during your vacation.
Your brother clapped his hands together, getting your attention. 
“So listen!” He grinned widely. “We gotta plan out the strategy for tonight.”
“Strategy?” You asked hesitantly.
“Yeah strategy. There’s a party I want to go to. Kappa Alpha is hosting it.” 
You tsked, sipping your coffee. “You realize I don’t know anything about the frats here. Is that like… a popular one or?”
He nodded. “Yeah it is. I’ve been trying to get into this one for a while now, so getting the invite is a big deal.”
You frowned. You were already so tired, and the idea of going to a kegger was not exactly on your ‘to do’ list. But it was important to him. So you complied.
“Okay. What time does it-”
A door opened. You stopped talking.
Your eyes widened to look over towards the sound. 
Toby was up.
The first thing you noticed was a mop of dark brown hair, unkempt, with curls that went in every direction. It was slightly greasy too, he clearly hadn’t showered in a while. There was light stubble on his jawline, and his skin was a sickly, almost gray color. A snake bite graced his lower lip, and there were a few more pieces of metal sticking out the cartilage of his ears.
He shuffled forward, looking tired, still in a pair of plaid green pajama bottoms and a t-shirt with little alien faces on them.
Once he made it into the kitchen, Toby finally glanced over. You looked away immediately, embarrassed that you were caught staring.
He was handsome. You hated to admit it. But he was. You pushed the thought out of your head, reminding yourself of who he was.
“Muh-morning….” He croaked out.
Your brother gave a little nod, just enough to acknowledge him, turning back to you while Toby started toasting a poptart.
“It starts at 9, but we should show up at 10 o'clock. I don’t want to look too eager.”
“Whuh-what starts at 9?” Toby interjected.
Both you and your brother looked at him, before nervously meeting each other's gaze.
“Oh uh!” Your brother stammered. “Just another party.” He motioned over to you with his thumb. “This is my sister, (Y/N), by the way.”
Toby’s eyes bore into yours. You swallowed, trying to give him a polite, reassuring smile.
“Nice to meet you…. Toby, right?” 
You acted unsure. Like you didn’t know his name by heart. Like you hadn’t had your brother vent to you about him for hours over the phone. 
“Yuh-yeah. That’s right.” He looked back at your brother. “Is the puh-party tonight?”
“Yeah it’s at a frat house. Did you…” He hesitated, before finally asking him. “Want to come?”
Toby bit his poptart, shrugging his shoulders. “I've guh-got nothing better tuh-to do.” The twitching man looked back at you, wiping some crumbs from his lip. He didn’t have emotion behind his eyes, just a weird intense focus on your face.
You pretended to be unbothered. 
It didn’t work.
He noticed.
And he liked the way you squirmed.
______________________________________________________________
Toby stayed in his room the rest of the day. Occasionally going into the kitchen, grabbing a snack, usually some kind of junk food, before he’d scurry back into his little cave.
You started getting ready as soon as the sun went down. It’d been a while since you’d been to a party and you wanted to look your best. Or look like you got a full 8 hours of sleep at the very least.
Toby said he’d meet you guys there. Saying something about how he needed ‘to take care of something first’. No one questioned him. Both you and your brother glad not to have to share a car ride with him.
Loud bumping music, the kind that shook a house and pounded in your chest, enveloped you when you walked inside the frat house. 
Flashing lights, a crowd in the middle of the dancefloor jumping up and down. The air was hot from too many people in a room at once. You could barely move through them all to get to the bar.
God you were going to need a drink to get through this.
Maybe even a couple.
Especially after your brother left you alone to go mingle.
One tequila shot, then two maybe three rum and cokes later. You didn’t even know how long you’d been there. Time seemed to freeze. There was only the music, only the dancing, only the bodies moving against you.
You felt hot. Your cheeks burned, and it wasn’t just from the temperature of the room anymore. The room spinned a little when you walked forward. Not enough to consider yourself completely wasted though. But enough to feel…. Friendlier.
More social.
Less inhibited. 
Numb.
After a lot of struggling, you made your way to the back of the room. 
You leaned against a wall, catching your breath, holding a red solo cup in your hand.  You could hear people trying to hold conversations by shouting over the music. 
And there were plenty of people making out. In fact, you’d say the majority of people were just straight up groping each other.
It made you a little jealous if you were being honest with yourself.
You looked around, wondering if maybe you could find someone cute. You didn’t intend on getting lucky or anything, but it would sure beat just standing there like an idiot. When was the last time you even kissed somebody?
Finally, you locked on to someone across the room. Someone with honey brown eyes. Someone familiar.
Toby.
He grinned when your eyes met. It was the first time you’d seen him do that. Large toothy canine’s, that bandage on his cheek shifting slightly. 
Oh god you felt your heart flutter.
You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t. There was something wrong with him. Your brother didn’t like him. Nobody did.
He creeped you out.
He didn’t shower. 
He smelled like death. 
You listed the reasons out, and damn if there weren’t a lot of them. But in the end it didn’t matter. In the end, it was painfully, woefully, obvious what was going to happen.
And you were already walking over there.
You slithered over to his side, sweating, peering up at him through your eyelashes. Trying to look cute. Desirable.
It was working. 
He could’ve eaten you up if you gave him the chance. 
But you didn’t know that.
You fiddled with the end of your skirt, the jacket you originally wore tied around your waist. A flush on your cheeks, you let your hand gently touch his shoulder.
“H-hey… glad to see you made it.”
He tilted his head to the side, leaning down to hear you better. It made your stomach stir with excitement, he made you feel small kneeling down like that. But you liked it. Liked that he was paying attention to you, and only you.
“Whuh-what did you say?” His breath was hot on your cheek. Using the loud music as an excuse to get closer, to touch your skin. Making the hair on your neck stick up.
You breathed heavily in his ear on purpose. “I said, I’m glad you made it.”
Toby’s lips parted, not responding at first, but not moving away either. “Oh? Yuh-yeah?” He sounded amused, voice lowering an octave. “Excited to suh-see little ole’ muh-me?” 
It was kind of a stupid, cheesy thing to say. Like he didn’t really know how to flirt, but maybe saw a couple movies and memorized the lines. But it somehow worked for him.
“Oh, I’m sure nothing about you is little.”
Why did you say that?
Why?
It just came out naturally. Oh god, now your face felt flushed from embarrassment.
You felt him touch the side of your face. He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest, it sounded heavenly.
“Yuh-you know, I’m having trouble huh-hearing you.” He paused looking around, making sure no one was watching. You wondered why. 
“Do you want to go somewhere more private?”
That was enough to make heat travel between your thighs. 
Fuck. 
One meek nod from you was all he needed, before grabbing your wrist tightly.
Too tight, like he was unaware he could hurt you. Or maybe he liked causing a little pain?
He dragged you upstairs, practically lifting you with one arm, you felt like you were gliding over the steps. The muscles of his arms barely flexing under that hoodie of his, as if you were weightless.
He was strong. 
You both traveled through the hallway, careful not to bump into anyone loitering in the hall. Some of the other party goers shooting you looks, but they were mostly directed towards Toby. They weren’t judging you or anything. In fact, they looked worried, maybe even a little scared. You started to wonder more about him. What was his reputation like if this was everyone’s reaction to him? Or perhaps he really just looked that scary. 
So why did he turn you on? 
He pushed you into an unoccupied room and flicked the light switch on.
You barely registered him locking the door behind him.
With one shove of his palm he pushed you backwards onto the bed. Your arms flailed a bit out of instinct, falling down on the mattress with an ‘oof’.
You swallowed thickly, watching him eye the way your legs had parted slightly. Your skirt hiking up dangerously on your thighs. You had to fight the urge to close them.
“Yuh-you look scared.” That velvet, sweet, voice of his was twisted by something sick. 
“Are you?” His head cocked to the side, a wolfish grin on his face.
“Yes.” Was your reply. You didn’t feel like you could lie to him now. Feeling too exposed to even think straight.
He licked his lips, slowly approaching you. His fingers danced across your shoulders, traveling down your arms, sending goosebumps down your spine. They were cold and calloused, just like you remembered from the night before. 
“Then whuh-why did you follow me here?” He cupped the side of your face, his thumb grazing across your bottom lip. You were going to respond, but he quickly shoved his finger in your mouth, gagging you. He wanted you to suck on them, but he didn’t communicate that well. “Why duh-did you….approach me?”
You let your tongue glide over his finger. His eyes narrowed, watching your face, before he started talking to himself. “Fuckin’ stuh-stupid.”
You paused. Was he talking about you? 
“Should be whuh-working tonight…” He muttered. “Target just downstairs…. Ssss-so easy…this better be worth it…..” Toby chuckled to himself like he just told a joke.
You didn’t understand what was going on. Should you just ignore him and continue? 
Toby retracted his hand from your mouth.
“Sss-so pretty….” He pushed your back onto the bed, crawling over you, his broad chest heaving, face pink and eyes lidded. Pupils dilated with lust. “So…. suh-soft….(Y/N)....” 
You shivered when he said your name like that, feeling your panties dampen even more than before. Especially when he started running a large hand up your inner thigh.
You let out a shaky breath.
“Yuh-you like it when I touch you…. I know you do…” Your eyes flickered down at him, letting him continue his ramblings, Toby’s face breaking into another evil looking smile. “Luh-letting me touch you last nuh-night…. Pretending to be asleep.”
Your stomach dropped. You couldn’t hide it in your face, he fucking knew. 
He fucking knew the whole time. 
He burst out laughing at your expression. “Yuh-you’re still not even telling me to stuh-stop now!” Toby gripped your hip with one of his hands, lifting up the hem of your shirt with the other. 
Before you knew it, he tossed the fabric over to the corner. 
Your bra was next. 
In any other circumstances you might’ve found it cute, or funny, when he struggled with the clasp. But something told you pointing it out to him wouldn’t have been a good idea. 
He groaned at the sight of your exposed torso, immediately diving into your tits. Your nipples perked at the attention. 
He was right. You weren’t stopping him. Your body screamed at you to. The smell of dirt and grime, of all things dead and decaying, it permeated off of him the more he touched you.
Toby’s mouth latched on to your left breast, the other gripped tightly in his hand. You knew you’d have bruises there tomorrow. You didn’t care. 
He licked and nipped at the tender flesh, the swell of your tits heaving, your head thrown back and lips parted, letting out soft moans here and there.
A noticeable bulge grinded against your leg, as he huffed, humping himself against you like a dog. 
After a while, he finally lifted his head up. 
Toby looked you in the eye, grinning, licking your nipple teasingly one last time, before his attention moved to your skirt. 
His hands searched your sides for a zipper, he grunted out of irritation when he couldn’t find it immediately. 
You took the opportunity to gently put a hand over his, guiding it to where it was. “Here.” You said softly. “Let me help you.”
His eyes snapped up to your face when you touched him. 
Immediately, his lips crashed onto yours. Needy, desperate, quickly shoving his tongue down your throat. You kissed back, swirling your tongue around his, ignoring the weird taste of metal coming from his mouth. His breath was hot and heavy, kisses sloppy. You doubted he got much practice, but he seemed to be learning quickly.
He made up for it with enthusiasm.
Finally pulling away, you both unzipped your skirt together. Lifting your hips off the bed, you shimmyed them down your legs, Toby watching in fascination.
“I’m guh-gonna fuck you.” He stated matter of factly. Then he whispered something that made your blood run cold. 
“...Fuck you bloody.”
Shit this guy was scary.
In a few seconds, he ripped his hoodie off, along with his shirt. His chest was heavily scarred, a noticeable slash starting from his left side over to his shoulder, and a dark happy trail rising up from the waistband of his jeans.
You didn’t comment on it, but it was worrisome. You could only imagine what would cause someone to get hurt so badly and so often.
That said, Toby was definitely toned. A bit sickly looking, but his muscles had just a hint of a six pack formed. Maybe he did more exercise than you initially thought. 
He kicked off his jeans next, unceremoniously pulling his boxers down, revealing himself to you. Lazily, he stroked himself, a thick layer of precum smearing down his shaft. It was long, veiny, but not very girthy. A flushed red tip, looking painfully hard.
You pulled down your panties slowly, already soaked, and ready. The anticipation was killing you, but you wanted to make him wait for it. His Adam's apple bobbed watching you, and you liked reveling in his stares.
“Guh-gonna split you in two…” Toby murmured, to no one in particular.
He hooked his arm under one of your legs, his body shivering with need, pulling your hips against him. He glided his shaft over your cunt, rubbing your clit slowly. He noticed you tense, how you whimpered slightly, and how your slick covered him more at the action. Looking in awe like it was some revelation to him.
Toby licked his lips, before finally enveloping himself in your heat. 
It was quick. Like he was slamming a drawer shut, but he immediately bottomed out. You gritted your teeth in pain, before crying out when he started viciously pounding into you. 
It fucking hurt. It hurt a lot.
“Shit..! Tuh-tight!”
Obviously, your muscles had tensed around him, feeling overwhelmed by the sudden fullness of his cock stuffing you. Unable to adjust.
You whimpered when he didn’t let up, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. A dull ache between your legs as he continued thrusting. The wet sound of skin slapping together coming from where the two of you were joined, burying his face in your neck, breathing in your scent.
Toby inhaled sharply, before you felt his mouth open wide.
Teeth broke through your skin instantly, a warm liquid dripping down your neck.
You screamed.
You screamed louder than you ever have in your life.
You screamed bloody fucking murder.
“Toby!” Clawing at his back, trying to get him to stop, you started crying. “Toby! Please!”
Luckily for you, he released his jaw to call out “(Y-Y/N)!” Not understanding your cries weren’t from pleasure.
It egged him on, encouraged him. His pelvis slamming into yours, with no let up, your tits bouncing at the force. Itching his fingers to your clit, he rubbed it in harsh circular movements, making you tighten around him.
You babbled nonsense. Finally some of the pain subsiding for pleasure, and maybe it was the lingering effects of alcohol, or the slight blood loss, but you felt a buzzing in your head. Basically incoherent, the faster he went. The brutal, bruising speed.
The way he gripped your breast, the way his hand remained on your pearl, trying his best to get you to finish, but not quite knowing how. 
Something started to build. 
More and more.
Hearing him growl, pant, like an animal. It was doing something to you.
You moaned loudly, wrapping your legs around him. The coil snapping, muscle spasming, pulling his cock in deeper, triggering his own climax. 
His hips stuttered against you, letting out a gasp. A warmth filling you, Toby completely emptying himself inside with a deep groan, eyes rolling back in his head. 
He gave a few sloppy, slow thrusts, before finally rolling off, and onto the bed next to you.
His cum leaking out of your cunt and staining the sheets.
Everything went blank for a moment, realization only just settling in. The gravity of the situation, the blood on your neck.
And an arm wrapped around your shoulders, drawing you close.
“I knew you’d be worth the truh-trouble.”
1K notes · View notes
brabblesblog · 6 months
Text
I hope you die screaming.
One-shot, angst/comfort, astarion/f!tav
After you refuse to help Astarion ascend, he leaves you with a venomous goodbye. Unfortunately the vampire has to come back to get his things.
The idea was to mix up the warding bond rings, Astarion’s final words if you refuse to help him, and Tav suffering and dying (not permanently!) in his absence.
Read on AO3.
Masterlist.
It had been a miserable few days of being alone in Baldur’s Gate, without most of his possessions, but Astarion was loathe to go back to the Elfsong. For one, he wasn’t sure exactly what he’d be there to do. To grab his things and go? A possibility, but not what he would rather do. To get on his knees and ask you to take him back? What he really wanted to do, but the chance of you forgiving him was slim, and he couldn’t face that rejection. So he stayed near the tavern, torn between showing himself and walking away yet again, when the ring on his finger pulsed with a strange magic and the ward protecting him dissipated from his body.
He had known you were still protecting him through the paired rings even as he stormed out of Cazador’s palace. The soft, pleasant feeling of the ward had not disappeared at all, and it had proven quite useful once or twice when he inadvertently offended someone enough for them to attempt to stab him. He didn’t get a lot of injuries - only minor cuts and scrapes - so as much as he felt guilty he figured you would be more than capable of handling it. In any case, should you want, you could just take off the rings, he reasoned.
So when the ward fell away right now, he huffed a bit and took the ring off. You must’ve finally remembered he had the other one, and there was no longer any point protecting him, after everything.
After what he said.
He entered the tavern and sat in a corner, waiting for your group to come back. He’d decided to come get his things. Without the ward’s protection, he would need his potions and armor to survive solo.
Soon enough, the door burst open and Gale came stumbling in. The gore and blood on his robes was normal enough, but his expression wasn’t. The man looked ashen and pale, and he immediately ran to the stairs. “Shadowheart! Come here. Now!”
Before the vampire could even put down the goblet he was holding, Halsin came in, something bundled in his arms. The air that wafted through hit Astarion, and he almost choked on it: blood. Your blood. A lot of it. He watched with wide eyes as Halsin carried the bloody bundle in his arms. It was a body, that much was obvious, but they had wrapped it in blankets. The fabric was stained everywhere, but it pooled the most where the chest would be. Halsin dipped his head and gently placed a kiss on the head of the body, and as he did so the blanket covering the face fell away. Astarion’s heart, if he still had one, would have stopped as he saw the face underneath the blankets. Yours.
He immediately stood up, heading towards Halsin. The larger elf saw him and let him approach, his expression one of sorrow.
“Halsin? What- is she…” he closes the distance. Your eyes are closed, as if you were sleeping. He knows it, knows he can’t hear your heartbeat and can’t see you breathe, but he still reaches out to cup your cheek. Cold, as cold as his hands were. He chokes back a scream that threatens to bubble from his throat.
Halsin moves, slowly climbing the stairs. “Come, Astarion. I shall explain.” As he made his way to your bed, he talked. “She hasn’t been well since your departure, but that is to be expected. We had a fight with the Steel Watch. She was a little too slow, too tired, and they won.”
Astarion growls. “You should all have protected her! Did you all cower when-“
“No.” Halsin rounds on him, eyes glinting with what was almost like anger. “We all have our injuries. We all tried our best. We weren’t the ones who left her.”
He laid you down on your bed, grabbing a wet cloth to clean your wounds. Astarion gripped the elf’s wrist. “Why aren’t you using a scroll to revive her?!”
He sighed. “You might not remember, Astarion, but the scrolls were all in your bag when you left.”
Shit. He had forgotten. He quickly rummaged through it, finding one. He saw Shadowheart approach and asked her for some healing potions as well. While everyone was preparing, Halsin kept cleaning your body up. Astarion scowled and grabbed his own wet towel, gently trying to clean around the hole in your chest. He winced at the amount of blood he saw as he tried to peel off the bloody shirt, then paused as he realized it was his camp shirt. Biting back the urge to scream, he kept working.
Shadowheart came back with several bottles of the potion, and they got to work. Halsin used the scroll, and as he did the vampire began pouring the potions down your throat. It didn’t take long for him to hear your heart start to beat again, and he exhaled roughly as he poured more bottles, just to be sure. He watched the color flood back into your face as you healed, unable to stop some tears from falling.
A hand gripped his shoulder and he turned to see Gale. The wizard sighed. “I’m surprised to see you here,” he said dryly. “Seems like you got your wish,” he said bitterly, gesturing to you.
Astarion bared his fangs and got up, ready to tear him from limb to limb. Halsin barely had enough time to stand between the two men. “There is no point to fighting each other. What’s done is done. And she’s doing better now.”
Gale sighed. He nodded at Halsin, then at Astarion. “I suppose the druid is right. You’ll still have some explaining to do, but it can wait.” He leaves to see Shadowheart to tend to his own injuries. After a moment, so does Halsin, squeezing Astarion’s hand in solidarity as he left.
Astarion continues his ministrations, weeping openly now that no one was here. He leaned forward, kissing your forehead. When you were clean, he puts you in your nightclothes, then wraps you up in his blankets. It doesn’t escape his notice that you’ve moved into his bed, his things still there, as though you were waiting for his return. He sleeps there that night, wraps himself around you, the sound of your soft breathing something he sorely missed.
You wake up a few hours later. Your head pounds, but when you open your eyes, it is blessedly dark. The last thing you remember was a steel watch monstrosity’s blade coming straight through you. You take a breath, nuzzling the blankets. They still smell like him, and you worry that soon the smell will fade. Then there would be nothing left of the man you loved. Well, other than his clothes-
Wait. His clothes. You run a hand down your chest, wincing at the movement. You realize you’re in your own camp clothes. It must’ve been torn in the fight, ruined by the gore. A soft cry escapes your lips. It felt all too much like losing him again. You whimper, helpless. Every movement was pain, but the most painful thing even now was your heart.
You suddenly realize you’re not alone on the bed. An arm sweeps across, wrapping securely around your waist. Someone nuzzles you, shushing your cries. In the darkness you can barely see, but the scent and the temperature of said arm hits you.
“As-Astarion?”
He swallows nervously. “Darling. I… I’m here.” He can see your face in the dark, eyes wide and afraid, and then a glimmer of hope as you realize who he is.
“You came back,” you manage to croak out. Your hand finds his, and he squeezes it tightly.
“I did. I-“ the happiness in your face stuns him. You should hate him. He doesn’t deserve to be welcomed back with such open arms.
“I was in the Elfsong to gather my things.” Before you could get the wrong idea and get hurt, he pushes on. “But I think I knew even as I walked in I’d be here to beg you to let me stay.”
“There’s no need to even ask, love.” Your hand moves to his hand, feeling for the ring. It isn’t there, and you feel a small pang of sadness. “You took it off.”
“Only today,” he says. “The wards fell. I thought you got rid of it, but your ring is still on your finger. I guess it just stopped working when you-“ he swallows past the lump in his thoat. “You- you know.” He couldn’t bring himself to say it.
Noticing his distress, you move your other hand to cup his cheek. “I’m sorry you had to see this. I got clumsy. I was… I wasn’t at my best.” You look away, embarrassed to admit how much you missed him.
“Darling. No,” he turns your cheek to meet his gaze. “I left you. I broke your heart. All because I was too afraid to see the right path to take. And I wished… I said terrible things. I would take it back, all of it back. I regretted it as soon as I left the dungeons. But I didn’t think you’d let me back in. If I stayed, maybe you’d be alright. You’d be-“
His words are broken by soft lips that press against his. It was tender, and he couldn’t help but lean into it, kissing back carefully and gently. More tears fell from him, and you thumbed them away. Pulling back, you offer him a kind smile. “I forgave you as you left, love. I get it. It’s just that I missed you a lot.”
“I missed you too.” With those words Astarion finally breaks down, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. He didn’t deserve such tenderness, such love, after what he did. He vowed to do better with your heart, to give what you deserve as well. Not for any other reason than that he wanted to.
He meets your eyes, and he finally lets the words that had been sitting in his chest for ages out. “I love you. I have loved you for a while, darling, I just didn’t know how. I’m not good at this, obviously. I choose the wrong words, do the wrong things, and you still let me back in.”
You chuckle a bit, hands carding through his hair. “That’s because I love you too, idiot.”
You’ve told him that for some time now, accepting that he couldn’t say the same yet. But every time you say it his heart still soars. He captures your lips in yet another kiss.
“Forgive me?”
“Of course. You’ll have to put your ring back on, though. Maybe when I’m more healed, on second thought.”
You bite your lip, frowning.
“Oh. And I might have ruined your camp shirt. Could you fix it for me? Please?”
He puts on a show of pouting and sighing. “If I must. What would you do without me, hm?”
You roll your eyes and tug him close to you. All too quickly, you drift off, finally having a good night’s rest. He watches your face become peaceful, noting the huge bags under your eyes.
Astarion holds you through the night, vowing to never leave your side ever again.
2K notes · View notes
gremlingottoosilly · 5 months
Text
That Unwanted Animal [COD Fantasy AU] CursedKnight!Ghost x fem!Reader
Ghost was cursed ever since his king helped him get back to life from his grave. A stench of death, strong and inescapable, renders him unable to find a woman who will be willing to bed him. What will happen when he finally finds a perfect mate? CW and Tags: Dub-con, power imbalance, Medieval Fantasy AU, knight!Ghost, servant!Reader, sex work, brothels, dub-con kissing and touching, obsessive Ghost, dark Ghost, basically Ghost finds a girl and forces her to be his, Ghost is a half-dead resurrected knight, soft reader, submissive Reader.
AO3 Word Count: 2209
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“I won’t go to him, he smells!”
“Drop the act, princess, not even half of our guests reek of anything more than their drinks and foul meat.” 
“You know how he smells, Katherine. You know what he is.” “What he is, is a client. Rich one. Do you wish to moan under the belly of another failing merchant? Or a peasant’s dick is more to your liking?” “I bring this place more than half of its earnings! I won’t bed a man who has barely got out of his grave and should be put back!” Ghost sighs, his head pressed against the wooden wall. For a brothel, this place has remarkably thin walls. For a brothel, girls out here have remarkably potent noses – and acquired tastes for anything that doesn’t taste like a man who was brought back to life with dead souls still clinging onto every inch of his very being. 
For a man of his regals – the blessed knight, the cursed knight, the kiss-your-enemies-goodnight, the spill-your-blood-he might, he has a particular choice in the brothel he tried to entertain himself with. Not like any willing woman would bed him without a sum of gold enough to feed a family for months – and not like he stood low enough to force himself on poor servants of his castle, bringing his dignity and family name down with each handmaiden he tried to grope while on meeting with the king. 
“Do you think he is really dead?” “Dead man wouldn’t need a cunt to drown himself in. He had to have something working.” “Maybe he likes to watch? Or to hurt.” “Maybe, we can’t afford to turn him down, princess. Drop your act before he is willing to burn us down for refusing him.” “Well, I heard he went through every brothel in town. Not a single soul bedded him!” “I heard he doesn’t even like girls. Has his royal knight by his side all day.” “He came alone.” “He will be coming alone for the rest of his life with a smell like this!” “Dark magic. King should have known to not trust the Empire and their lurkings.” “Having a blessed knight is good, no? We’re not at war.” “Cursed knight is good in your army, not your bed. But if you are so willing…”
He hears women – from the madam of this fine place, a woman of fine manners, exquisite figure, and the way of looking at him that almost convinces that she doesn’t want to press her fingers against her nose, blocking the smell of death that follows him ever since he became…that. He hears girls of not-so-fine manners, with fine bodies and perfect pretty faces, gentle hands that don’t know about the trials of war. He remembers the way they looked at him – the way they always looked at him. 
Scary, horrendous, dangerous. A skull mask and dark tendrils of smoke follow his body, the Grim Reaper himself embedded in his dark armor. No matter how many perfumes he uses, no matter how many washes per day he forces himself onto, nothing can hide the stench of death. He thought he’d be fine with it as long as his battle brothers were with him – as long as he was with them. 
Then he got lonely. 
Finding a lay in the brothel would be a scandal for a man of his status – but Simon Riley is no man. Not anymore, at least. 
“I bet he wears a mask because he is hideous.” “Maybe he is just wounded?” “What kind of wound would make him hide his face while not being hideous?” “Maybe, he just doesn’t want to show his face here.” “No use. By the dawn, all women in the capital will know about great lord Riley, refuced at every brothel.” “What if he kills us?” “What if he burns us?” “What if he…” “Let the servant bring him tea. Make her useful.” Before he could react – as if eavesdropping on a bunch of whores was something of a pleasant chore he was dealing with – a door to his room had opened. Girl, in much simpler clothes than the ones that courtesans were wearing. With a tea tray in her shaky hands, grabbing the poor thing like there was no tomorrow. Huh. Perhaps, with a mug like his as her client, there is no tomorrow for a poor girl. 
Ghost sits on the bed, large, muscular legs spread, his dick swaying with attention the longer he is looking at your face. He can’t be picky, not in his state as a not-dead not-man, but he has to admit that you’re pretty. Without all the mannerisms of a prostitute, you look like a poor deer stuck in the predator’s den. Your hands are shaking – but he looks at your face, having no shame in drinking up your expression like a vampire – and he didn’t once saw you wince at the smell. Hm. Must be potent tea you’re serving. 
— I didn’t ask for the tea. 
Rude, as always – he didn’t come here to be ridiculed by poor attempts at pleasing him without a girl under him, getting her pretty legs open for his cock. He didn’t intend to come here and listen to all of the workers laughing at him like he was a monster – yet, he can’t leave now, his wounded ego grows into something ugly. 
— Most of our clients prefer to drink this before the…act. It makes them more potent, as they say. 
His cock didn’t have any warm body to dump his semen in years. He doesn’t need tea to make him hard – he sees the glimpse of your skin under those simple robes of yours, and he can already feel it stir, standing up for attention. 
— You don’t sound too certain. Your client must not drink it then. 
— I…I am not a prostitute, sir. Merely a servant. 
He knows already – your makeup is too plain, your manners are off, your clothes are simple grey wool with not a dash of color. If you were his – as a prostitute, a wife, a lover – he would bring you something much brighter and skimpier. You’d look good in silks, he thinks. 
Not like you’d allow him to bring you home – not willingly, at least. 
— So I figured, love. You’re pretty enough to be one, that’s clear. 
“You’re pretty enough to be a prostitute” is a compliment that only sounds good in the head of a man who hasn’t talked sweetly to a woman in ages. His whole life, perhaps, exchanging the embrace of a lady with tight hugs of the war. 
— You’re flattering me, sir. 
— Bloody hell, woman. Not a flattery if that’s the truth. 
— If you say so. 
You shift under his gaze like a rabbit in front of an apex predator. Ghost doesn’t want to force any woman to sleep with him – but he looks at the sway of your chest, at the softness of your hips, at the way you tug and scratch on the rough fabric of your skirt as you’re too nervous to look at him…
He must contain himself. 
— Why you work as a servant? 
— I…tried to be a prostitute, sir. Most clients here don’t like it when you’re not…
He slowly rocks his body closer to you, his head almost laying on your shoulder. He saw the way you looked at him as he leaned to you – you’re surprised, scared, but not disgusted. your nose didn’t twitch a single time, and he is sure that no tea would ever make you this blind to the stench of death lingering on your shoulder now. 
There must be something wrong with you – and he wants to save you like a rare treasure because of it. 
— Most clients here don’t like what, luv? 
— I…have damage, sir. 
So he figured. Just didn’t exactly know what you have. 
— What is it? 
— A…after a bad cold, my sense of smell…never returned. Not for the last three years. 
— You don’t smell anythin’? Must be bloody hard. 
— It is. But…I manage. As much as I can. 
He slowly drapes his hand over your shoulder – you wince at the touch. He thinks of the madam of your fine establishment. The woman didn’t seem the type to beat her girls, but you had such a shy, scared expression as he started to touch you, he can’t wait to burn this fucking place to the ground. Maybe spare a few of your friends if you’d ask him nicely. You won’t be working here again, ever – that much he can be sure of. 
— Doin’ a good job, love. 
— I hope so, sir. 
He drags his hand on your face, squeezing the soft skin of your cheek. You’re adorable – servants shouldn’t be so pretty, it makes him feel bad, it makes him sinful. He should try to hit on the girls who actually work here – not the poor soul that as sent here to bring him here, as a little lam sacrificed to a vicious god. 
— You don’t smell me, then? 
— I don’t smell anything, my lord. 
He chuckles, but your pained expression only makes him chuckle more. Poor thing, living in a place like this without a sense of smell – he can’t believe how you could survive without the smell of heavy incense and creams that all of the whores were using. He loves it when a pretty girl is making herself even prettier – makeup, all of those little elixirs they are putting on their faces, the flowery smells that make his rotting existence a bit easier. It never worked on him, on his disintegrating skin and stench that followed him everywhere – but then it dawned on him. 
You have such an adorable, shy smile and a small posture, playing with the edges of your clothes like a girl who is extremely embarrassed to be in a room with a man of his position. But women aren’t shy in his presence, not anymore – they are disgusted, horrified, they want to put their noses into little candy boxes and smell roses just to get rid of the smell. 
But you, adorable creature, aren’t disgusted. Hell, how he missed a pretty girl being so shy around him. 
Ghost kisses you before he can think of anything else. Before he could give you space to escape, to come to your senses and understand what kind of man he is. Broken, wounded, pushed to the cage, and locked with a key dangling from the side – god knows, Simon Riley isn’t a good man, never tried to be. Devil knows, he will drag you to the grave with him. 
Your lips are soft, untouched, you smell of cleaning supplies and sweet tea. Your hair smells like roses and dust, your hands are covered in little scabs – probably from the days spent cleaning and doing the hard work. He will make sure you will never have to work again, not with your hands, at least – he will kiss your callouses and nourish the skin into something delicate, fragile, to the smell of home he lost long ago. 
Your mouth tastes like heaven, and Ghost isn’t a man who deserves to push this angel further, isn’t a man who deserves to have a pretty girl moaning under him. He makes you cry, he terrifies you, he kisses you relentlessly and can feel the way your skin burns, tears streaming down your face. If he was a better man, he would oblige to your hands, pushing him away, your mouth is trying to cry for help. 
Simon Riley isn’t a good man, and he pushes you on your back, firms hands on your back, on your hips, touching, groping, feeling the skin of a somewhat willing woman. You’re scared, but you should know the kind of job girls here are doing – he didn’t pay all of this money for charity projects, after all. As much as he would pay even more gold just to take you away, to push your legs apart in a scenery much nicer than a room in a brothel. You deserve a real bed, a nice dress that he can rip away from you, 
All you get is his hands on your body, ripping your simple skirt apart because he can’t wait to get to the soft skin underneath. He looks at you, precious girl, as adorable as you are, and can’t resist kissing you, stealing breath from your skin. When he finally hears you moan, when his hand goes to grab the softness between your legs – moist, prepared, smelling of roses and arousal, of all things sweet and sinful – all of his sense of self-control shatters. 
He will take you on the floor of this room – over and over, claim you as his little maiden, his favorite girl, until he is sure his cursed, rotten seed has filled you to the brim. He will take you away, bringing as much money to your madam as he can manage, buying you all for himself – taking you as his prized possession for the new castle he was ordered to as a lord knight. 
Ghost will make you his, hells and heaven be damned. 
You cry, but he knows you’ll come around. And he can be very, very patient. 
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roosterr · 7 months
Text
whatchya got, boy?
note: requested by @wetsocksinbed :D this fic came to me in a prophetic vision as soon as i read that ask, all i have to say is i was cackling maniacally while writing it. bon apetit.
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pairing: john 'soap's mactavish x gn!reader
wc: 4.4k
summary: soap is scared of dogs, you're a k9 handler. your dog is good at finding bodies, he doesn't ever want him to have to find yours.
warnings: angst with a happy ending, canon-typical violence
ao3
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soap has never liked dogs.
when people ask him why, he tells them that it's just how he is. he wasn't bitten by one, it's not a trauma response, he just doesn't like them, plain and simple. being in the military and having a phobia of dogs is like painting a giant red target on his forehead, so in the interest of not getting relentlessly made fun of, he keeps it to himself.
until recently, it hasn't been a problem.
then you came along, with your quick wit and charming smile, and he was a goner from the moment you first met.
price had given them your files, told them you and your partner are on loan to the one-four-one for the next few months while they track down a particularly slippery target. the term partner had initially disappointed soap, but then you'd both marched into the room with your heads held high, and he realised;
oh. your partner is a dog.
a german shepherd, to be precise. you're a canine handler, like the universe is playing a trick on him – he hasn't been genuinely interested in someone in god knows how long, and when he finally finds somebody, you're accompanied at all hours by one of the few things he fears.
he's about ready to give up on pursuing you before the briefing is even over, but as the others all stand and file out of the meeting room, your partner comes bounding up to him in all his fanged, furry glory and soap almost has a heart attack.
"he doesn't usually trust strangers," you told him as your dog sits at his feet and wags his tail so hard it might be at risk of dislocation. johnny’s moments away from bolting, the fear climbing up his nerves like constricting vines.
"lucky me, eh?" he smiles at you, which was honestly more like a grimace, but somehow you're not offended by his obvious dislike of your partner. you let out a laugh, and the sound is so melodic he almost forgets about the beast waiting at his heel.
"you can pet him," you grin knowingly, and soap gets the sinking feeling you've figured him out already, "he doesn't bite – not unless i tell him to."
"cheers, but i'll pass…" johnny attempts to protest, in the motion of taking a step back, but you grab his hand before he can escape and drag it down to your dog's face with an amused grin.
"his name's rex." he hears you say, but the way your dog is sniffing at his hand has every muscle in his body tensing involuntarily. he's mortified that you're seeing him react like this, he already knows he'll never be able to live this down once the others find out.
when rex chuffs and starts to lick at his hand, johnny feels like his soul might leave his body. the sharp teeth so close to his skin is so unnerving, the only thing stopping him from making a run for it is your soft grip still around his wrist.
he looks to you for help, but you're watching him with a mischievous grin that sends his heart aflutter.
"see? that wasn't so bad." you chuckle, crouching down next to your dog and thankfully taking rex's attention off him. johnny breathes a quiet sigh of relief, wiping his wet hand on his trousers as he watches you fuss over the canine.
you're endearing, and johnny has to admit that seeing you coo at rex like he's a baby makes him slightly less terrifying.
"price put you up to this?" he asks, holding back a flinch when rex looks up at the sound of his voice.
"he did." you nod, standing back up and meeting his eyes again. "but rex actually does like you. guess you're just charming like that."
"well, thank god for that…" johnny grumbles, his voice dripping with sarcasm. you laugh again, and with the way his pulse quickens, he can't help but send you a cocky grin. "but what i wanna know is, do you like me?"
"hmm…" you feign indecision with a poorly concealed smirk, tapping a finger on your chin before leaning closer and placing a hand on his bicep. "i may need a little more convincing."
after that, johnny can hardly keep himself away from you. 
whenever you're next to him he's got an arm slung over your shoulder, you’re always talking – texting when you’re apart – and any free time he has is spent following you around base, not unlike rex at your heel.
you ask him if he wants to watch you when you train rex, and initially he tries to say no, because he thinks seeing rex practising attacking people might break whatever spell you've cast that makes him not hate the dog; but you drag him along anyway, and he ends up being glad that you did.
it's fascinating, watching rex sniff a shirt from your hand and track down whoever it belongs to with expert precision. it looks almost like a game to the canine, the way his tail swings back and forth the whole time as he effortlessly completes any task you give him.
he finds the dummies you hide with ease, even when they're buried under piles of boxes and clothes and various other obstacles. johnny actually finds himself respecting the dog, which is shocking since a few weeks ago he never would've been able to handle even being in the same room as one.
you give johnny the treats to feed rex, which makes him nervous all over again when the canine looks up at him with wide eyes and all his sharp teeth on display. it takes some coaxing from you, but eventually he gets comfortable enough to let rex take a treat from his hand. he may not admit it, but the only reason he even lets rex get so close is because you're there. simply your presence gives him the courage, makes him feel secure.
"when this is over," johnny begins, hand twitching under rex's tongue and looking at you with such fondness it feels like his heart is about to burst, "i'll take you out proper, treat you right."
you blink at him, surprised, but not a moment later a wide smile is taking over your face. "i look forward to it, mactavish."
the others, particularly gaz and ghost, give him hell for how infatuated he's become with you, but their teasing doesn't deter him. he likes you, and he doesn't care if everybody knows it; you like him too, and that's all he really cares about.
now, sitting in the heli on the way to what they hope will be the final location for this mission, he was almost disappointed to be done with it. you were only on loan for this mission, so once they have their target, you'd be gone. he was hoping, optimistically, that once everything was said and done he could convince you to stay with the one-four-one. he was sure he could talk price into it, and though it was selfish of him, he just wanted you to stay by his side.
you're sitting next to him in the back of the aircraft, rex between your legs with his head resting on your thigh, staring up at johnny with those big brown eyes. without even thinking, he reaches a hand out and ruffles the fur on his head, earning a nudge and an adoring smile from you when he looks over.
"he might like you better than me," you tease, scratching behind rex's ear who was yet to take his eyes off of johnny.
"don't be jealous now, bonnie." he chuckles, returning the nudge to your shoulder. "you can have 'im on weekends."
you grin again and lightly shake your head, taking rex's face in your hands and bending over to press a kiss to the top of his head. "you love me the most, right boy?"
before long, the helicopter is landing and the five of you – plus rex – are following the captain out into the forest. it's cold when they exit the heli, night vision goggles highlighting the terrain through the darkness of the night.
the silence buzzes as you all stalk through the trees. johnny pays more attention to you than he should as you walk beside him, anxiety lighting up his nerves for how this mission will go.
as according to the plan, once the manor is in sight, you all split off into teams of two; him and ghost, price and gaz, and you and rex. he trusted you to do well, like you have been doing for the last few months, but he can't help the way his shoulders tense as he watches you disappear around the corner.
the building is guarded, which was expected of course, but they only had to take down a dozen or so guards until the place was barren.
the corridors were eerily deserted, bathed in a moonlit glow as johnny crept around the manor, following closely behind ghost with both of their heads on a swivel. the radio was quiet, by design for the mission plan, but somehow this time felt different, like they wouldn't hear him if he did call out.
it's the beeping that gives it away. so faint, he almost missed it, but his senses are sharpened like a blade – and as a demolitions specialist, he knows the sound of an explosive when he hears it.
johnny carefully pushes open the door to his right, scanning the room for any movement and finding none, but when his gaze lands on the centre of the room, his pulse skips a beat.
propane canisters, fuse linking them all together, and most concerning, a timer on top blinking at him; two minutes, ticking down with a sickening green glow.
"ghost," he calls, his voice hard and serious as the anxiety builds again, "it's rigged."
ghost steps into the doorway next to him, following johnny's arm as he points to the device.
"fuck." he spits, stepping back and clicking the radio on his vest, but no sound comes out. ghost curses again, looking back to johnny with a tense expression that the sergeant mirrors. "radios aren't workin' either. let's move, c'mon."
there's no room for argument in his tone, marching back the way they came with johnny in tow.
as they emerge back out into the night, price and gaz appear from around the corner, both lifting their goggles and approaching with concern evident on their faces.
"what happened?" price's gaze darts around behind them as he speaks, as if waiting for someone to jump out and attack.
"the place is rigged, we have to go." ghost explains, already moving past them and away from the manor.
the captain nods, gesturing for johnny and gaz to follow as he tries his radio with no luck, just like ghost. the pit of anxiety lingered, getting heavier by the second.
"move it, soap." price commands, a deep frown creasing his brow.
but johnny doesn't move. "hold on, where's k-9?" he asks, a frown of his own pulling his features downwards.
"radios are down, we don't have time to look for 'em." ghost calls over to them, earning a solemn nod from the captain, who tries to move him with a hand on his shoulder.
the radios are down, you have no way of knowing the building is rigged. there's no way johnny's about to leave you on your own in the blind, he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he did.
"no. i'm not leavin' without 'em." johnny growls, his face morphing into a frown as he brushes off the captain's arm and turns to go back inside.
"they might already be outside." gaz tries to reason, stepping in front of him and blocking him from the doorway. kyle's regretful gaze cuts through him, and there's the distinct feeling that everyone else has already given up on you. "we have to move, mate."
johnny scoffs. "fuck that! i can't just leave 'em!" he hisses, insulted by the very idea of leaving one of their own to fend for themselves. no, that's not how they operate, that's not how he operates.
a flash of anger shoots through him and he's about to shove past gaz, but before he can move, price is yanking him away.
"soap!" he growls, shaking him slightly as he grabs johnny's other arm. "get it together, you are not goin' back in there."
before he can argue, he's being grabbed by ghost and dragged away from the manor with him as the other two jog ahead of them into the treeline. 
"oi!" johnny shouts, struggling in the lieutenants iron grip, but to no avail. ghost practically drags him along as he digs his heels into the dirt, writhing in an attempt to escape and go back for you.
he's desperate, he can't lose you, not before he takes you on that date, he promised, you can't die yet–
johnny blinks, the deep, rumbling boom completely derailing his thoughts and starting a piercing ringing in his ears.
white hot fire bursts from the windows of the manor, showering the surrounding area in shards of glass and debris as the heat escapes the building in waves. 
no.
everything seemed to stop around him. ghost stopped trying to drag him away, the trees stopped blowing in the wind, he almost stopped breathing. the world pauses as the walls of the manor are engulfed in flames.
no.
johnny rips his arm out of ghost's grip and stumbles back towards the manor, his mind floating out of his body.
"no!" johnny wails, ignoring the heat on his face and taking a shaky step over the jagged stone and glass that crunches under his boot, "no! they're still–" his voice breaks, "they're still in there, for fucks sake!"
"johnny!" ghost shouts, grabbing him by the strap on the back of his vest and yanking him sharply away from the blaze. "they're gone." he mutters, purposefully avoiding soap's glassy eyes.
"shut the fuck up!" he cries, thumping his fist against ghost's chest and clawing at the arm holding him back. the tears spill from his eyes hard and fast, constricting his throat and blurring his vision.
he falls to his knees with his head in his hands and ghost lets him, the debris that litters the ground sharp against his flesh, but nothing compared to the pain in his chest.
it wasn't supposed to go like this.
you were supposed to come back, and he was supposed to take you out and give you a perfect date and he'd kiss you at the end of the night and now he'd never get to do any of that because–
you're gone. slipped through his fingers like sand into the ocean.
"c'mon, johnny." he hears ghost mutter, his voice distant even though he's right there, pulling him to stand by his arm. "let's regroup."
he doesn't struggle this time, shaking himself free of his lieutenant's grip and shuffling past him with his head hanging low. if there was a god, he's sure they're laughing at him by now. it all felt like some kind of cruel joke; give him hope by granting him someone to love after all these lonely years, and then rip you out of his arms before he can know the happiness you would bring him.
he and ghost don't get far before he hears the lieutenant stop in his tracks, but he doesn't care to know why, the hollow feeling in his chest won't allow him to.
"the dog…" ghost utters from behind him, an air of disbelief in his monotone voice. johnny freezes, a cold dread travelling up his spine as he hears the unmistakable sound of rex's claws padding towards them.
he turns slowly on his heel, fresh tears welling up in his eyes.
your dog is standing in front of him.
"rex…?" he calls softly, taking in the dust and ash and dirt and blood caked into his rich brown fur, illuminated by the fire still raging. rex barks, tilting his head like he's confused, and johnny falls to his knees again, uncaring for the way the rubble tears through his trousers and his skin. "no, no no no no–"
rex is alone. you're not with him. he doesn't go anywhere without you, and that can only mean one thing.
the confirming thought alone shatters the dam completely.
the sobs wrack his body and johnny gathers rex into his arms, hugging him tightly to his chest, burying his face into his thick fur despite the filth that coats the both of them. he whimpers and whines in johnny's ear, and the sound only makes his heart hurt even more.
a few months ago he never would've dreamed he'd be hugging a dog, but you changed that; you'd helped him work on his fear, and even if rex was the only one he could tolerate, it was still leagues better than what he could accomplish without you.
but now you’re gone, and neither of them have you to fall back on.
johnny sinks his fingers deep into rex's fur, sniffling pathetically because he may have lost you, but your canine lost his entire world and he would never understand where you went, why you left him all alone, why you weren’t coming back.
rex begins to wriggle in his arms, and soap knows he wants him to let go but he can't bring himself to. this dog is all he has left of you now; he would take care of your beloved canine, it doesn't matter if he was still terrified in the back of his mind.
after a painful few minutes, jonny regains the awareness to remember where they are and the fact that ghost is still watching him break down with the dog in his arms. with a trembling sigh, he loosens his hold on rex and pulls back, wiping a dusty hand over his eyes.
as he pushes himself to stand rex barks again, startling johnny with a jolt of panic before bounding back the way he came, away from him and ghost.
johnny frowns. "hey, don't run," he mutters, ambling after the canine as he pads backwards. every time johnny gets close, rex slips just out of reach before he can grab him.
ghost sighs, but allows him to go after the dog, keeping a watchful eye on them as they get further away.
the way he was running along and looking back to make sure johnny was following reminded him a worrying amount of how he acted in his training. the training where you would hide a dummy for him and johnny would reward him with treats when he led you to the fake body.
"no, no rex," except this time, the body wouldn't be fake. "please, boy, just come back…"
rex doesn't react to his pleading, determined to lead him to what johnny knows he’s found, but desperately wants to deny anyway. he tries to stop, to turn back and never have to face the reality of you being gone, but the canine won't let him. he takes johnny's trousers between his razor teeth and growls, deep and threatening, as he tries to pull him along.
the sound makes johnny freeze, fear clawing at the back of his mind as an instinctual reaction, but he blinks hard and pushes through it. "alright, i'm comin'..."
rex lets go once he’s sure he’ll follow again, trotting ahead with the occasional check behind him to make sure johnny was still there. he follows the canine past the rubble, through the treeline, and into the underbrush where the sick feeling in his throat only grows stronger.
he doesn't bother with the night vision goggles. the fire provides enough waving light for him to just about see where he’s going, and he really has no desire to see what rex is guiding him to.
johnny almost trips over him when the canine comes to an abrupt stop, his wide eyes trained on a bush to johnny’s left.
the dread pooling in his stomach becomes suffocating.
"wh…?" he swallows thickly, crouching down to rex's level and placing a hand on his back, feeling his laboured breath that matches his own. "...whatchya got, boy?"
rex barks and noses at the branches of the bush, before stepping backwards a few paces and looking expectantly between johnny and the shrub.
johnny stares at the bush. no amount of training could've prepared him for the terror he feels imagining what he’ll find on the other side of it. as if sensing his hesitation, rex barks again to spur him on, but it only makes his heart sink further.
his hand shakes as he reaches for the branches. there's a stutter in his heartbeat, a hitch in his breath, as he pushes them aside to reveal–
"bleedin' fuckin' jesus–" johnny cries, jumping through the foliage to couch over your weakened form, forgetting his fear all together as he ruffles rex's fur with both hands and a breaking smile when he barks again. "oh good boy rex! good boy, fuckin' hell!"
it's you, blood and ash smeared across your skin and your chest rises and falls in shallow breaths, and johnny's just so happy you're alive he can't think to be afraid when rex snaps at his hands in a misdirected effort to protect you. he presses both hands against the slice in your abdomen, using the few medical supplies in his vest to help stop the bleeding as the tears being to well again.
"shit, stay with me, hun, i've got ye…" he mumbles, putting all his weight onto your stomach. "ghost! help me!"
the rest is a blur.
they carry you to the helicopter, rex barking protectively between their legs the whole way until he can lay on guard between your legs on take off.
when they finally touch down back at base, johnny has to grab rex by the vest so the medics can carry you out, wrestling him away as he barks and whines in protest. johnny stays with the canine while you're in surgery and for the days you're asleep, making sure he's fed and allowing him to sleep in his room so he won’t be alone – despite how uncomfortable it makes him, and how little sleep he gets because of it.
it's four days until you wake up.
he's not the first to find out, but as soon as the words reach his ears he’d racing down the corridors and bursting through the infirmary doors with enough intensity to make you jump out of your skin. the sight of you sitting up and talking to price almost has his eyes watering again, but he pushes that urge down.
he approaches your bed more carefully, a wobbly smile pulling at his lips under your warm gaze. with an understanding look, price is patting him on the shoulder as he passes by and leaving the two of you alone with each other.
"aren't you a sight for sore eyes," johnny grins, taking a seat in the chair next to your bed and grasping your hand in his. a smile lifts your features as he brings your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss there as a heat rises in his cheeks.
"i could say the same, my knight in shining armour." you reply, moving your hand to cradle the side of his head and smoothing your thumb over his brow. he revels in the contact, the tension bleeding from his muscles under your touch. "where's rex?"
"he's fine, i made sure." he reassures you, and you let out a sigh of relief at his words, visibly relaxing into the pillows holding you up. "tried sneakin' him in here, but the nurses wouldn't have it."
a laugh escapes you, the sound still managing to make his heart feel light, even all these months later. "can't imagine why," you tease, gently nudging his head as he chuckles along with you.
it feels like a weight is lifted from his shoulders, finally having you with him again. his eyes flutter shut as the relief washes over him, and a minute passes where neither of you speak, simply basking in each other's presence.
there's a scratching sound at the door that interrupts the peace and quiet, and the two of you share a knowing smile. not a moment later, the door is being pulled open just enough for rex to slip through and skid towards your bed on the linoleum floor, wagging his tail at breakneck speed.
before the door can completely close, johnny catches a glimpse of gaz’s mischievous grin and groans, but he doesn't have time to yell at him before he’s out of sight and rex is distracting him by leaping onto your bed.
you wheeze as your canine braces his paws on your chest and begins his assault on your face, licking every inch of skin he can reach with a series of excited chuffs and narrowly missing johnny’s head with his swinging tail.
"hi rex! you saved my life, didn’t you boy?" you giggle, affectionately ruffling his fur and planting kisses of your own on his face. "who’s a good boy? who’s the best sniffer dog ever?"
johnny clears his throat, drawing your attention to him as you cuddle rex to your chest. "i don’t want’a blow my own horn here, but i saved yer life too…" he gives you that lopsided grin, a playful glint in his eyes that makes you laugh again.
"you want some pets too?" you chuckle, reaching over and dragging his head over to you by a hand on the back of his neck. "good job, johnny, you’re a good boy too." you coo, pressing your lips to his forehead and the tip of his nose as you ruffle his mohawk like rex’s fur.
the effect is immediate. his cheeks burn again with a striking red blush, and he chokes on his breath in bashful embarrassment under your ministrations. he hopes you haven't noticed his reaction, but the way your laugh bubbles up again he can tell you’ve caught on.
"i think i like that more than i should, bonnie." he mutters, pressing his forehead against yours and allowing his eyes to flutter shut. you hum sweetly, your warm breath fanning over his face.
"don’t short circuit on me yet, soap, you still owe me a date."
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tagging: @cheezbites
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ao3commentoftheday · 6 months
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Idk if this is too broad of a scope for this blog, but if you could answer this, it'd be great.
I've been in a writing rut since I started getting serious about writing, and I've identified the issue in the past month or so: I slant heavily on the gardener end of the writing spectrum and all the advice on writing I've ever seen was for architect-style writing. Not once in the eight years I've been serious about writing did I find any guides on gardener-style writing (and if it says it's gardener-style, it'sreally just architect-style with gardner aspects), and my experience has just been more or less jamming a square peg into a circle hole, getting nothing written and feeling bad about it.
Now I'm unlearning all the architect-style habits that are destructive to me as a writer, but I can't find any resources for gardeners aside from Stephen King's On Writing. If you or any of your followers know how to help a gardener's writing, that would be great. I have so many fic ideas I want to write, but can't since I'm learning to write all over again.
For those who don't know what gardener and architect refer to when it comes to writers, a gardener is a writer who starts with the seed of an idea and lets it grow in whatever direction the light shines. They prune it and weed it as they go but otherwise let the idea lead the way. An architect, on the other hand, plans their stories out first and then writes them. They have a structure and the details all mapped out first and then the writing is just executing on that vision.
As a gardener myself, my biggest piece of advice is to avoid writing advice. Like you've said, the majority of it is aimed at people who do things like plan and plot and worldbuild ahead of time. Because of the structure that that writing style enjoys, providing "one size fits most" writing advice works well for it.
I tend to find a lot of that advice to be counter to what I need to do. Planning a story out ahead just makes me feel like it's already written. Building out the world before I start writing it feels like a hollow exercise - more like writing an encyclopedia than developing a land and culture for my characters to inhabit.
What I find useful is taking an episodic approach to writing. The entire story will be like a season of a television show and each chapter is like one episode. I always have my eventual "season finale" end goal in mind, but any particular chapter can meander closer to or further from that goal. It's alright to take a circuitous route, as long as I get to my destination in the end.
It's also alright if my destination changes as I'm writing. Sometimes those meandering paths take me in a more interesting direction than I was originally going down, and that shifts the story. As long as you're vaguely following a three-act structure (or 5 act or 7 act), the flow of it will feel familiar to your readers and they probably won't really notice it happening.
This advice I'm giving might not ring true to you either. You didn't have a specific problem to address, so I've been wandering a bit in my reply. Really what it comes down to is paying attention to yourself and your needs. Figure out what it is that keeps you writing and what it is that makes you stop. Do more of the former and less of the latter - and don't worry if what you're doing is "weird" to someone else.
I write directly into the AO3 window (which AO3 specifically tells you NOT to do, btw) because drafting first in google docs or something takes the fun out of it for me. I post my chapters without previewing them first. I write in 800 to 1500 word sprints, and I focus on dialogue, and I almost always try to end on a joke or a pun or a cliffhanger. These are all things that make writing an activity that I want to do.
I can't really say anything much more specific given your ask, but I hope something in here was helpful. Let's see if any gardeners out there have some resources or advice that might work for you.
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