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moonchildquinn · 7 months

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warnings!!: alright you know the drill, !!18+ only!!, minors stay tf away or i’ll smack your ankles with a razor scooter (iykyk) slight choking, spanking, orgasm denial, unprotected PIV (wrap that shit folks) slight creampie if you look hard enough, little bit of degrading, a couple pet names and a little surprise at the end. if i missed anything please tell me and i will add it! this is not proofread as none of my fics usually are. i’m a bit rusty on the writing game so if you hate this please keep it to yourself or i’ll cry anyway enjoy! 🤍

word count: 1.7k

idk what to title this so uh just simple:

Older!Mean!Eddie x Fem!Reader!

You sat at the bar, nursing the same drink you ordered since you had got there, scooping out the area for a nice little fuck for the night, but not a single guy in the bar had caught your eye so you sighed ready to give up as you finish your drink. You’re about to pay when a deep raspy voice next to you speaks.

“Could I get you another?” He asked. You looked at him and your breath was taken away. In front of you was one of the most beautiful men you have ever seen. He was older, you could tell by the gray littering his beard. He had long curly, messy hair and his smile lit up the dim bar. You could see he was covered in tattoos and he had his lip pierced as well. He looked like a rockstar. You smile, sad that you’re going to turn him down.

“I was actually about to head out.” You say politely.

“Understandable, have a great night.” He nods his head about to leave but you end up stopping him. You needed to get to know this stranger, you didn’t know why but you just needed to.

“Well one drink wouldn’t hurt I guess.” You say.

“You sure? Don’t feel like you have to be polite and have a drink with me darlin’.” He says.

“I want to, I promise.” You say. He nods his head and calls for the bartender and you both order a drink. You two end up hitting it off, sharing stories and laughs, getting to know each other as the night went on. You were right Eddie was older, a full 20 years older than you but you both didn’t seem to let that get in the way. After a few drinks you got a bit bold and decided to invite him back to your place.

“Sure, I would love to.” He smiles as you both get up. He pays the tab and you both head out.

“You really didn’t have to pay the tab.” You say as you stand there waiting for a ride. Neither of you wanted to get behind the wheel which was smart, obviously.

“I’m the one who offered to get your drinks.” He says.

“A true gentleman huh?” You tease a little.

“Guess my uncle raised me right.” He smiles. A car pulls up and he opens the door for you and lets you in first then follows after you. The car ride was silent but it wasn’t uncomfortable at all. When you get to your apartment, Eddie hops out of the car first and then opens the door for you, holding his hand out for you. You take it and step out and you both walk inside your building. As you both stood in the elevator the tension was growing and you both knew it was. Your patience was running thin, you just wanted him to fuck you.

The elevator doors open and you walk down the hall to your apartment and as soon as you get the door unlocked Eddie is pushing you in and closing the door before pinning you against it and kissing you deeply. You moan softly as your hands come up and you tangle your fingers into his hair, tugging slightly as you do causing him to groan out. Well you got exactly what you wanted, a nice fuck. Eddie brings his hands down and grabs your thighs in his hands and picks you up and carries you over to the couch. He sets you down but you get up and grab his shirt and drag him to your bedroom. You push him down onto the bed and straddle his lap and kiss him, the desperate need to have his lips on yours growing stronger. His hands go down to your ass and squeezes hard causing you to moan out into the kiss.

“Fuck me, please.” You beg. He nods his head and moves you off of him.

“Strip for me.” He breathes out and you do. Eddie’s eyes watch you as you slowly remove your clothes, his cock growing harder by the second. Once you are naked he pulls you down on his lap, placing his hand around your throat and having you look at him. “Want to have a little more fun?”

“Yes.” You breathe out. At this point you would agree to anything. Eddie smirks at your agreement and kisses you hard. He brings his free hand down and rubs his fingers along your soaked slit, groaning at the feeling. He does that for a bit, causing you to become a whiny mess for him. Finally he slips two fingers in and starts off slow.

“Here’s how this is going to play out, you’re not allowed to cum until I say you can, if you disobey me you’ll be punished, understand?” He asked you. Chills go down your body as you nod your head. “I need to hear you.”

“I understand.” You whisper.

“Good girl.” He picks up the pace of his fingers ever so slightly, his grip on your throat getting a little tighter as he does, adding to your pleasure. His fingers move expertly inside of you and you feel like you’re on cloud nine. Your eyes roll back slightly as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to your orgasm. You’re so focused on the movement on his fingers that you forget his rule and you cum all over his fingers. You grip his shirt tightly in your hands as you mindlessly rock against his fingers. Eddie watches you ride out your high, anger boiling up inside of him. He had one simple rule and you couldn’t be bothered to listen to him. Once you come back to him, your face heats up as you look at him, shame written all over your face.

“I’m sorry.” You say.

“It's okay angel.” Eddie lies through his teeth as he helps you up. “Get on your hands and your knees for me.” He demands, his tone sends a shiver down your spine a little and also goes straight to your core. You do as told and get on your hands and knees. You hear Eddie riding himself of his clothes before he gets behind you. He grabs your hips and pulls you against him, making you gasp as you not only feel how hard he is but feel how big he is. Was it even going to fit? Eddie chuckles slightly at your reaction. “It’ll fit, don’t worry. Now remember how I told you if you didn’t listen to me you would be punished?” Your heart drops instantly.

“But you said it was okay.” You whimper out.

“And you said you understand, it looks like we both lied.” He smirks before he brings his hand up and spanks you, hard. You yelp out, barely processing it before he’s spanking you again and again. “Such a pathetic little thing, couldn’t handle one simple order could you?”

“I’m sorry.” You say, your voice more whiny than you meant for it to sound.

“I’m sorry.” Eddie mocks. He continues to spank you until your ass is raw and tears are spilling down your face. Once he’s done he presses your face down into the mattress and slides his cock into you with ease, the stretch burning slightly but feeling so good at the same time it basically knocks the wind from your chest. He keeps his hand on your head and his other hand grips onto your hip as he sets a brutal pace. Your body feels ignited as your eyes roll back and loud moans leave your lips.

“Mmm fuck! You feel so good angel, so fucking good!” Eddie groans out. You want to respond but he was just fucking you too good that all that you could manage was moans, whines, and whimpers. You could feel another orgasm building and Eddie could tell you were close too from the way you squeezed him. Just as that feeling was about to snap Eddie pulled out.

“No!” You cry out.

“Oh you thought the spanks were your only punishment? Oh no, I’m not done with you quite yet.” He says. He brings his hand down and starts rubbing your clit causing you to whine out. If he didn’t want you to cum why must he torture you? You could feel yourself ready to go over the edge again but he stops once again.

“Eddie please!” You beg.

“Should have obeyed me the first time, then you wouldn’t be in this position now would you?” He asked.

“I’m sorry!” You plead.

“And I told you I don’t care, now shut up!” He snaps and you keep your mouth shut after that. Eddie keeps his little game going for hours, getting you really close to the edge and then stopping. By now you were a mess and you just wanted to cum. Eddie smirks at how he has you before he finally slides his cock into you again and starts up his brutal pace. Your voice was a bit horse as you continued to let out moan, knowing that once again you weren’t going to be cumming. You could feel your orgasm growing and you waited for Eddie to pull away but he didn’t.

“I’m going to cum!” You whine out, hoping the warning will alert him.

“Cum for me angel.” He rasps. You cry out as you cum, hard, all over his cock, relief filling you as you finally get your release. Eddie keeps going, coaxing a few more orgasms from you before he finally cums himself. He groans loudly before he pulls out, his cock twitching slightly as he watches his cum drip down a little before he uses his fingers to push it back in. You both collapse down on the bed, catching your breaths before you both look at each other, wide smiles on your faces.

“Holy shit that was amazing.” You finally breathe out.

“I told you roleplaying was fun, just have to know how to do it right.” Eddie says, making you nod your head in agreement. “I wasn’t too rough was I?”

“Never.” You smile as you scoot closer to your boyfriend and snuggle into him. “Thanks for this.”

“Told you I would do anything for you, now rest for a bit then I promise to get you cleaned up.” He kisses your forehead, a smile on his face and smile to match on yours.

#older!mean!eddie munson #mean!eddie munson #older!eddie munson #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut

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bitchimasnake-sss · 7 months

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"remember that time when-" ft. r.zoro!

ft. zoro x fem!reader

set-up: you're pms-ing and this man is your greatest friend and even greater enemy rn (but you know you love him); drabbles to soothe your delusional soul <3

warnings: none! very wholesome lol

-contrary to popular belief, this man actually knows what periods are (wow, the bare minimum!!!) - when he was younger, he had listened to kuina go on about being a woman and its disadvantages and all and i believe he thought she was talking smack (i mean at the end of the day, "a swordsman is just a swordsman") - so when 15 year old zoro stumbled across a library, he decided to waltz in and just pick up a random biology book to understand female anatomy (it happened one after the other, completely unplanned) - when i tell you his little fifteen year old pea-sized brain was blown away (he learnt way more than he probably should have) - (please i beg u he can read, trust me 😭😭) - but just because he knows its a thing doesn't mean he understands it. so, yeah, he actually does know what it is, he simply does not care - in his logic, he had bled multiple times and still always bounces back so like what's the big deal??? "what's the big deal? it's just blood" he's sipping on a bottle of sake, gulping down its remnants in a single breath when you had complained about cramps one evening "excuse me?" nami is ready to strike him down "i said its just blood" - nami did, infact, then strike him down - post-dating zoro still thinks its no biggie "oi, yn" he's poking your shoulder, "what's wrong?" "cramps" you grumble against the pillow he laughs, "ah, they'll go away, get up and get going now. don't sulk around, you're my fav ketchup packet" "tf did you just say?" "ketchup packet?" - you refused to talk to this man for the next two days - at the end of the second day, he had to write a formal apology (with chopper's help) and speak it out loud before you started entertaining his bullshit again - see the thing is this mf is reserved, superhuman and has an absurdly high pain tolerance so it's hard for him to sympathize exactly - he once caught you crying cause you had seen a mama chimpanzee kiss it's baby chimpanzee and hug it tightly and he will forever bring it up "zoro you remember that time you got lost in dru-" "yn, remember that time, we were passing through a jungle and you saw some chimp-" he ended up getting a sucker punch to the face he deserved it. - but just because words aren't his thing doesn't mean he isn't looking out for you - everytime you're laying there on the bed, unmoving, he'd wordlessly crawl into the bed next to you. he's give you a gentle back massage or start rubbing soothing patterns onto your belly "you want something?" he mumbles slowly, hands skimming softly over your waist - this man would not and i repeat absolutely would not allow you to do any physically demanding work though "hey, let me handle that" "zoro, i am not a child!" "you sure look like one to me." he snickers, "remember the time you saw that mom chimpan-" "zORO FUCK OFF!!" - you need something from the top shelf? he got it. you are helping ussop carry gunpowder from the storage? go sit down, your boyfriend's got it - does it sometime frustrate you? yes - does the crew use this opportunity to make his lazy ass do a fuck lot of chores? also yes - he will still 100% make ketchup jokes (he's gross like that) - but name one man who'll treat you more gently than this bozo, i dare you - it might be something as lame as a period, doesn't mean he woudn't go to the end of the world to make you feel slightly better (even if he teases you about it endlessly)

sanji's part <3 luff's part <3

#one piece #one piece zoro #one piece x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro one piece #op zoro #zoro headcanons #one piece headcanons #monster trio #sanji x reader #luffy x reader

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python333 · 8 months

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Hello!! I absolutely adore your 141 platonic fics, I litterlay giggle and kick my feet when you post new storys about it. Especially since they're always gender neutral! Litteraly always check to see if youve posted a new fic, but anways!

I'm a really big sucker for found family mental health fics, especially when I'm experiencing rough times. If your comfortable with it, I was wondering if you could make the 141 catch Reader self harming or maybe just seeing the self harm on their arms accidentally and comforting them. Always love a comforting found family fic on cold nights.

If it's easier, I really love really any of your hurt/comfort type 141 fics with all my soul and eat them up anytime you post them. Especially since there isnt much gn!reader and TF 141 platonic hurt/comfort fics. So if you aren't busy than that's another option I would love to see!!

If your uncomfortable with it then that's fine and you can just ignore this post! Make sure to take care if youself aswell author. You're absolutely amazing! 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

self-slaughter — python333

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synopsis reader is a medic and is caught harming themselves by the 141 in the medbay!

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & gn!reader

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

word count 6.6k

warnings self-harm [specifically using a scalpel], self-harm scars, dark thoughts [nothing too bad, but thoughts of pulling off your skin and harming yourself], painful wound cleaning [with iodopovidone], 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note hello anon!! i too am a big sucker for found family mental health fics, and completely understand this request, and i will happily write it for you!! a lot of this is based on my own experiences with this, so i hope that's okay and that you enjoy the fic!! as well as this request, i'll use this fic as an excuse to write a few prompts on my bad things happen bingo card, which will be displayed at the end of the fic! the prompt used will be: painful wound cleaning! expect wayyyy more angst after this LMAO. also, if this feels like glorification or anything else inappropriate for a fic like this, then please let me know! since it's mainly based on my own experiences, i assume it wouldn't feel *too* much like that, but still!

It gets kind of old after so long of doing it.

Almost like it’s a chore—as if stealing glances at your medical equipment, tools meant to save the lives of others, and wishing that it were being used to draw blood from your body was just an inconvenience. You complain about it in your head like you used to about school, like it was nothing more than some homework that was due a minute before midnight.

Right now, you’re alone in the medical bay. It wasn’t often that you were, typically two bumbling idiots would stumble in every few minutes talking about how they got injured while sparring, but for the past thirty minutes it’s been silent. While you appreciated the break from the constant explanations of why the soldiers you were to tend to had gotten injured, with the silence came very unwanted thoughts.

And with nobody to focus on came your unwilling lingering stare at the sharp scalpel on the small metal equipment cart that was just a few feet away from where you sat. It didn’t help that you felt oddly guilty today, either.

Well, the guilt wasn’t odd. You knew where it came from. It just felt odd, considering the cause for it happened a week ago.

The cause had been on a critical mission last week, where you were responsible for carrying medical supplies and ensuring the team’s well-being and general health. The medical equipment wasn’t particularly expensive or hard to get, but it was still incredibly important.

However, on that same mission, right towards the end of it, you’d been caught in the midst of an intense gunfight. Distracted by the heavy enemy fire, you dropped the small bag you’d been using to carry the medical supplies, and hadn’t noticed you did until it was too late. By the time you and the others were out and heading back to base, you had just realized you left behind the medical equipment.

All week, your fellow task force members had reassured you that it was okay and that it wasn’t that big of a deal, considering nobody got hurt. Still, even a week later, you’re hung up on it. Had someone gotten injured, what could you have done? You didn’t have any supplies to help them, so what would you have done then? Just the thought of that possibility makes you shudder.

The scalpel looks so tempting.

It’s not like you hadn’t used it before—you have the scars to prove you had, ranging from small lines that could be mistaken for cat scratches to tiger-stripe length cuts that make your thighs look as though they’d been mauled by a large animal. As elegantly as you describe them in your head, the visuals of them aren’t nearly as pretty. With the help of that scalpel, a few sharp needles, and some medical scissors, you’d successfully made it look as though a bear had tried to attack you and tear your legs off.

Ironic, isn’t it? A medic harming themselves?

Your job is to literally save the lives of others, and here you are, staring at the closest thing you have to a knife in the medbay. It’s become as easy as blinking for you—which is scary, honestly, the way you’ve developed a tolerance for cutting yourself and stapling your skin back together if you’ve cut too long or deep.

It’s no longer enough to just scrape something sharp across your skin and watch blood bubble up from the broken seams of your flesh, no, now you have to cut even deeper to actually feel anything. You have to feel the scalpel being buried to the hilt in your flesh, and you have to see the way blood spurts out of the self-inflicted wound after you pull out the tool.

You continue to stare at the scalpel, sure that you look like you’re in some sort of trance right now.

It looks so tempting. You can remember the last time you used it—three days ago, the longest you’d gone without it in a while. Similar to cigarette-addicts, you often tell yourself that you’re able to stop whenever you’d like—that you’re able to quit at any time. It’s a lie, and you know it, but you still like to pretend that it’s true.

You’re still staring at the scalpel.

Its sharpened edge reflects the overhead light, creating a bright glow that strains your eyes when you stare at it for too long. The metal of the handle is worn down from use, even though it’d only been in the medbay for maybe a few months—something nobody had questioned yet, thankfully. The clean blade, replaced just yesterday, had no traces of filth or grime on it, making it even more tempting.

You blink. You hadn’t noticed the burning of your eyes until you forced them away from the small knife.

You move your gaze to your lap, where you fiddle with your fingers, gently tugging at a hangnail that’s been lingering on your thumb for the past few minutes. As you pull on it, you feel the sting that it brings, though that sting now feels dull compared to the other things you’ve done to yourself.

It almost feels like a small pinch compared to the ways you’ve mutilated your thighs on certain nights that didn’t allow you the energy to do anything else, or the ways you’ve carved apologies in the forms of lines into your arms to try and gain forgiveness for your thoughts and temptations.

You pull the hangnail off completely and watch the miniscule droplets of blood bleed through your flesh and meet your skin and nail. Before you only had the energy to do your job and harm yourself, you would’ve hissed at the sting pulling off the small bit of skin caused you and grabbed a bandaid immediately, but now, all you can think about is how it isn’t enough.

About how much better you’d feel if you pulled all your skin off. If you could feel every inch of your skin stretched to its limits and torn off of your body, because God knows you deserve it.

The thought makes you wince. That is… disgusting. Why am I thinking about that? You shake your head in hopes that it would shake away the dark thought, but instead the action makes it rattle inside your brain and break off into tiny bits in pieces, small unwanted thoughts of wounding your flesh rolling around your mind.

Similarly to Sisyphus and his boulder, you try to push those thoughts out of your mind, your hands starting to curl into tight fists, but you just can’t. Every time you push a thought back, it comes rolling back to the forefront of your mind, the momentum it gets from being pushed back so far only to get rocketed forwards making it even more unbearable to think about.

The fists your hands have formed become tighter.

Each thought that gets pushed back only jumps forwards once again, ricocheting around your brain, the effort of trying to ignore them making your ears ring.

Before you realize it, your gaze snaps back to the scalpel.

You don’t even notice the blood that begins to spill from your palms from how deeply your nails cut into your skin.

Every thought tries to be louder than the other, creating an unholy cacophony of sound; a terrifying harmony that only grew louder every second that passed. You stare at the scalpel. It continues to reflect the bright gleam of the overhead light, and it continues to make your eyes strain the more you look at it, but you can’t find it in yourself to be all that bothered about the eyestrain.

You unclench your fists and stand up, walking the short distance over to the metal medical cart where the scalpel lays, and you grab the handle of it with shaky hands. You look over at the door for a moment, and stay there for another few seconds.

Once you see that nobody’s coming in, you rush yourself to one of the beds, sliding open the curtains in front of it and sliding them back so that they’ll obscure anyone else’s view of you using the scalpel on yourself.

You sit on the bed and although the scalpel almost slips out of your hand because of the blood from your palms, you manage to keep held in your tight fist, holding it like you would a pencil; tucked under the base of your thumb, and going through the gap between your index and middle finger.

With your hands still trembling and your breath uneven, as well as a bustling mind that only grew louder as the scalpel in your hand grew closer to the skin of your forearm, you made the first incision. Almost immediately, your mind quieted, and your headache dimmed.

Quickly becoming addicted to the feeling of a clear head, you lift the scalpel from your skin, not waiting to watch the blood bubble up from your open wound like you usually would, instead opting to make another incision right next to it.

Being a medic, there was nothing you could really do to stop yourself from thinking about how deep each incision was, and how deep you were cutting into your flesh—so while you cut yourself, a train of thought begun.

Half an inch deep, You push the scalpel deeper, Now a full inch. Should take a month or two to fully heal. Wouldn’t scar.

The thought of it not scarring should make you happy, or at least, neutral, but instead the thought makes you frown. Some odd hunger that comes from the indefinite pit in your stomach craves evidence for the malice you’ve shown towards your own skin, something that would prove your self-hatred.

So, you go another half inch deeper. Scarring would be possible, but not as high of a chance as if you went another half inch. With that thought, you go the last half inch. There we go.

You slide the scalpel blade through your flesh, the blade cutting through it like it would a firm fruit like a pear. It’s easier to cut through skin when the skin is pulled taut, You think, If only I had an extra hand.

You pull out the blade and repeat. You feel less guilty already.

All that worry about fucking up during your last assignment washes away, like the wave of guilt that overcame you earlier receded and pulled back that worry with it, lowering the tide of shame and self-reproach within you. In fact, the tide lowers so much that it almost completely disappears from your mind—like it never existed in the first place.

Reminds me of a tsunami, You repeat your actions with the scalpel, When the tides get low, so low that the ocean floor shows and you could walk where you’d originally have to swim, it’s because a tsunami is building up.

You look down at your work. Your forearm is a bloody mess, crimson red dripping down to your fingers and threatening to drop onto the stark white sheets of the bed you’re sitting on. You sigh tiredly and get up from the bed, putting the end of the scalpel’s handle into your mouth—ignoring the voice in the back of your head that reprimands you for not thinking about bacteria or contamination—and biting down to hold it whilst you slide the curtains in front of the bed to the side, walking out of the small resting area.

You grab the scalpel and set it onto the metal medical cart by your desk, grabbing the gauze on that same cart, opening the small box it’s kept in with your non-bloody hand. It’s a struggle, but you manage it open, and you shake the roll of gauze out onto the cart.

In the middle of you attempting to pull the end of the gauze off of the roll so that you could begin to wrap it around the red lines decorating your forearm, you hear loud footsteps walking near the medbay. You freeze in place, the gauze roll in one hand, your eyes burning holes through the door with how intensely you stare at it.

There’s a knock. Then another.

The door handle twists.

You stare at the door, and everything feels like it’s in slow motion for a second.

The door opens.

“Hey, dae ye hae any—” Soap walks in, the sergeant taking one look at you before cutting himself off with a confused and immediately worried, “Holy shit, whit happened tae yer arm? Are ye alright?”

He rushes over to you and takes your bleeding forearm into his hand. You almost immediately rip it away from his grip.

“Nothing! Everything’s fine! Just an accident,” You lie, holding the blood-covered forearm close to your chest, “I was just about to clean it up.”

“Dae ye need help wrappin’ it, an cleanin’ it up, or anything?” Soap asks, eyebrows furrowed and his expression beyond worried.

“Nope,” You insist, “It’s fine. All good here.”

“... Ye sure?”

“Uh huh,” You nod your head, “All good. Don’t worry about it.”

“‘kay then,” Soap tilts his head and crosses his arms, “Whit happened?”

“Just a little accident with some of the equipment,” You nod down to the bloody scalpel on the medical cart, “That’s all.”

It must be obvious you’re lying, because Soap sighs and says, “I think we baith ken that that’s a lie.”

You stay silent for a few moments, before Soap speaks up again, “Ye ken if ye dinnae tell me, I’ll jist jump tae conclusions, richt?”

You take a deep breath before mumbling something under your breath. When Soap’s eyebrows draw together in confusion, you repeat louder, “I used the scalpel. On myself.”

“Ye whit?”

“I used the scalpel on myself,” You look away, and rush out, “and I’m really sorry, I just couldn’t help it, it’s not like— like a normal thing or anything, it’s just this once, I swear, and— and—”

“[c/n], calm down,” Soap quickly uncrosses his arms and sets both hands onto your shoulders, furrowed eyebrows now taking a more concerned shape, “It’s okay.”

You take a deep breath and look at him, looking at his nose instead of his eyes because you don’t think you could handle eye contact right now, “I’m really sorry.”

“Why would ye dae that tae yerself?” Soap asks, voice soft and almost pitying, which makes you want to curl up and die.

You shrug, not wanting to answer verbally.

“Dae ye— dae the others ken?” Soap questions.

“No.”

“I’m—” Soap looks conflicted for a moment, “I hae an assignment… I’ll get Gaz tae help ye, aye? An’ I’ll check in wi’ ye as soon as possible?”

You hesitate, but end up nodding in agreement, thankful that Soap offered to get Gaz rather than one of the others. The others seemed so oddly scary right now that you don’t even want to think about how they’d react to this whole situation. It’s all gone by so fast—one moment you were sitting on a hospital bed, the next you’re found out by Soap of all people—you’ve barely had time to think about the others.

“Okay. Okay, okay,” Soap repeats the word under his breath like a mantra, thinking to himself for a second before sighing and looking down at you again, “Jesus, fuck, okay. I’ll go get him, ye stay here, aye?”

You nod again, this time your vision begins to get more blurred.

“Ye’re gonnae be okay, okay?” Soap tries to reassure you. You nod once again, sniffling a little bit, making Soap’s gaze soften.

He takes his hands off of your shoulders and gives you one last sad look before turning around and rushing out of the medbay, his thundering footsteps growing quieter as he gets closer to Gaz’s location—most likely his sleeping quarters.

You wait a moment and when you hear no footsteps, your gaze goes back to the blade. It’s not like it’ll hurt to do a few more. I’ll stop when the others arrive.

You grab the handle of the blade, and as quickly as you can, akin to an addict scrambling for substance, you slice through the skin of your non-mutilated hand. You make several quick and deep gashes before dropping the scalpel onto the medical cart again, breathing heavy, the cuts this time actually hurting. It felt like fire was running rampant through your nerves, all stemming from the self-induced wounds, and you winced at the new pain. It wasn’t anything you weren’t used to, but still.

When you hear footsteps again, you can tell they aren’t Soap’s.

The door clicks open and in walks Gaz, already looking very worried—presumably from what Soap told him about your… situation—with another person in tow. Right behind him, Price walks in, expression neutral so far.

Gaz looks over at you, his eyes widening as he sees the bloody gashes in your forearms. Without a second thought, he rushes over to you, his hand reaching for your forearm. Before you can stop him, he grabs your bloody forearm and pulls it up a bit so that he can look at it closer. You flinch, and Price quickly walks over to you two before Gaz can even utter a single word.

“Let’s not, okay?” Price’s version of ‘knock it off’, “I’m here, I’ll take care of their… thing. You hand me what I tell you to. Understood?”

“Yup— Yes, sir. Captain,” Gaz corrects himself quickly, making a slip-up that in any other situation would’ve made you at least chuckle, but all you can do now is stare at the pair as you hold your bloody arms to your chest.

Price looks back over to you and nods over to one of the many empty curtain-surrounded beds and says, “Go sit over there and wait for a few seconds.”

You nod, not knowing what else to do or say, and immediately walk over there. It’s the room furthermost to the right, the one that’s also the closest to the door and the one you’d coincidentally gone into to cut yourself.

You slide the curtains to the side and sit down on the white bed, and just a few seconds later, just as Price said, he walked in as well. He sat next to you, Gaz in tow, the latter carrying a jar of cotton pads and balls as well as a bottle of Betadine.

Betadine—or iodopovidone, whichever name you preferred—was a sort of antiseptic that was generally used for cleaning cuts and wounds. Maybe not ones as deep as yours, but it would still work just as well.

Despite it not being alcohol-based, or really having any alcohol in it, it still hurts the same as rubbing alcohol would, which you were… definitely not looking forward to.

“Sergeant,” Price takes the jar and bottle of Betadine from Gaz, “Go and grab the skin stapler for me.”

“Yes, sir,” Gaz nods, walking out of the room once again. Price sets the jar and bottle of Betadine onto the bed beside himself after he leaves.

With you and Price now in the room alone, he turns to you and holds out his hand with his palm faced up for your arm silently. You carefully put your forearm onto his hand, watching as he gently pulls it closer to him, looking a bit closer at it before sighing through his nose and using his free hand to open the jar of cotton pads.

“How did this happen?” He asks, breaking the silence.

“Soap didn’t fill you in?”

“No.”

You think about what to tell him for a moment. What’s too straightforward? What’s too vague? How do I not overstep? How do I not sound like I just want attention?

Eventually, you settle on, “I was— … I saw the uh… scalpel, and I just… decided to use it a little bit. On myself.” Definitely not the best you can do, but what else could you say? ‘Oh, I cut myself with a scalpel because I felt guilty and if I didn’t I probably would’ve had a panic attack or a mental breakdown’?

“…” Price pauses for a moment, eyes twitching for a split second before he continues his movements to grab a cotton pad and questions you, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“You know what I’m asking, [c/n].”

He’s asking why you did it. There’s not one simple answer you could give him—sure, you could tell him that you felt guilty and it was a bad habit that you’ve told yourself you could stop but never tried to, but that wouldn’t be the whole truth.

You can’t fully express or dictate why you do it, you just do. It’s like when you cut slits into bread before baking it. Without those slits, the bread would crack and split at the seams on its own, but with them, the splitting and expanding of the dough is controlled.

Except, with you, it’s like you’re cutting yourself before the tension building inside of you makes you burst at the seams. Taking a blade to your skin has given you a sense of control—maybe that’s why it’s so addicting, You think, it’s the only way I’ve been able to control my feelings.

But you can’t just say all of that. Well, you could, but did you want to? Fuck no.

Instead, you opt for shrugging, which doesn’t satisfy Price one bit.

“I could see you thinking about it,” He sighs, “I know you at least have some sort of real answer.”

Well, fuck. “It’s a long answer.”

“I never said it couldn’t be.”

He doesn’t move to grab the Betadine at all, instead waiting for you to talk.

You purse your lips and think for another moment before finally talking again, “I was feeling really guilty and tense, and I guess it just got too much, so I just kind of… had to. Like I felt like I was gonna fuckin’… I dunno, have a nervous breakdown or something. And honestly, it’s a really stupid reason, because the thing that I’m feeling guilty about happened like a week ago, but still—I’ve been feeling really guilty about it. It—It’s not like I can’t stop, if I tried I could, I swe—swear, and I just— it’s been really easy to just— you know? I— honestly, it’s not that big of a deal—”

“Hey, hey—” Price brings a hand to your shoulder and softens his voice, “It’s okay. I understand.”

“I ju—st… I’m sorry, I—”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Price reassures you, quickly bringing that same hand up to cup your jaw, “You’re okay. You don’t have to say sorry.”

“But I—”

“Shh.” You hadn’t even noticed how frantic your breathing had gotten during your small word vomit. And to just make things worse, there’d been tears gathering at your water line, well on their way to spilling over and creating tear tracks down your cheeks.

You can’t help but let go of all the tension in your shoulders the moment Price starts gently rubbing his thumb back and forth over your cheek. The moment he does that, it’s practically game over for you.

Those tears spill out from the corners of your eyes and you can already feel your next breath get caught in your throat, leaving you to just let Price gently guide your head to lean forwards against his chest, letting out small hiccups and trying desperately to hold back the sobs you want to let out.

It all happened so fast, you don’t even know how you got here. One moment you were doing a good job of somewhat keeping your guard up, the next your resolve was crumbled completely by the gentle and oddly caring touch of Price’s hand.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door, then someone walks in while you’re burying your head further into Price’s chest—Ghost. You can tell it’s him by the way he walks. He has long strides, he never drags his feet, and the moment he slides the curtains to the side to see you, his footsteps stop. They start up again a moment later, and he sits by your side, opposite of where Price is sitting—to your right instead of your left.

Gaz must’ve let him in while he was looking for the stapler, You think, sniffling against Price’s chest. Normally, you would’ve felt some sort of shame by now, but given the current situation, you didn’t find much room to give a shit.

You feel Price’s head move up slightly, and judging by the way he occasionally nods and sometimes moves his hands a bit, you can only assume that he’s having some sort of nonverbal conversation with Ghost right now. This conversation goes on for about a few minutes longer before you’ve managed to control your breathing a bit more.

Price can tell, and he asks just for confirmation, “Is it alright if I clean your cuts now?”

You nod and sniffle once before taking your head off of Price’s chest, looking down at your lap, simply holding out one of your blood-crusted arms to him. You can see Ghost stiffen up behind you almost immediately at the sight of it.

Price grabs a cotton pad from the jar he was handed earlier, as well as the bottle of iodopovidone, and soaks the cotton pad with said iodopovidone. Once it’s soaked with the antiseptic solution, he hesitates before pressing it to your bloody arms.

Almost immediately, you inhale a sharp breath and feel tears stinging your eyes again.

“It’s okay,” Price tries to calm you down, seeing the tears forming in your eyes again, “You’re okay.”

You sniffle and shift on the bed, trying to blink away tears that threaten to spill over your water line. Ghost, sitting by your side, puts a gloved hand over your shoulder, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into your shoulder. His eyes twitch as you bite the inside of your cheek to muffle another sob while Price presses another Betadine-infused cotton pad to your self-induced wounds, and although you can barely see him, out of the corner of your eye, you still catch the glint of new tears gathering at the corners of his eyes as he watches you.

Gaz slips back through the curtains in front of the bed, this time with Soap in tow, and hands a skin stapler to Price. Seeing the skin stapler, something you used fairly often—often enough that the others knew how it worked and how to use it—automatically made your stomach turn.

“Told ye I’d come back for ye,” Soap murmurs, kneeling down to get about eye-level with you. You huff out the smallest laugh at his words and he gives you a small smile that makes you want to go lock yourself in a room with a scalpel and repeat what you’d done earlier all over again, his empathetic expression paining you more than taking a blade to your arm.

As a matter of fact, the expressions that you wish were pity coming from everyone around you hurts more than anything you could’ve ever done to yourself. Their concern was so unexpected—not that you don’t think they care, but you never thought they cared this much. You didn’t think that, if caught in the act, you would receive empathetic looks and solemn smiles, rather thinking that you would receive reprimanding. That you’d be punished for punishing yourself.

Price thanks Gaz silently with the curt nod of his head before turning back to you with a solemn expression that in all honesty makes you more guilty and disappointed with yourself than before. He holds the skin stapler like he would a hot glue gun, looking down at the open wounds in front of him, and holds your forearm closer to him so he can see the edges of the cuts better.

"Keep your arm like that," He murmurs, to which you respond with a nod and stiffening your arm so that it stays in the air where Price positioned it. He uses his now free hand to gently pull the edges of the cut you'd made closer together, aligning them the best he can before pressing the metal staple dispenser to the cut and pushing down on the trigger, stapling the two edges together with a click.

He holds it down for an extra second before releasing and pulling the stapler away from your skin, and although the process only took around three seconds, you'd never get used to the feeling of getting your skin stapled. You make a small, pained noise that has Soap wincing as well--as though he can feel it too--and Price looking more solemn than earlier.

“Finished with this one,” Price mutters as you swallow down another sob, holding his calloused-but-soft hand out for you to put your other forearm in. You do just that, nearly breaking into a fit of new sobs at the small ‘thank you’ Price utters.

You watch Price soak another cotton pad with iodopovidone with his free hand and suck in a deep breath as he presses it to your forearm, the originally white cotton pad almost immediately going red. Tears spill over your waterline and roll down your cheeks as he continues to clean and disinfect your wounds, and before you can move your free hand to wipe them away, Ghost does so for you, his rough gloved hand swiping below your eyes quickly.

You mumble a small 'thank you' that's barely even audible, sniffling as you can’t help but lean forward the tiniest bit into Ghost’s hand as it lingers on your cheek. He pauses, keeping it there for a second, before bringing that same hand up to the crown of your head and pushing gently on it to urge you to lean your head back. You do so, the back of your head quickly making contact with his Adam’s apple and the top of your head becoming tucked underneath his chin.

His hand goes back down to your shoulder and continues its ministrations of rubbing small circles into said shoulder, bringing you intermittent moments of comfort throughout the painful wound cleaning you had to endure.

Soap keeps a comforting hand on your knee as he’s kneeled down in front of you, his thumb occasionally copying Ghost’s, but otherwise remaining still on your knee, careful not to force you through too many different sensations at once.

Gaz watches you from by the curtain, seeming not to do and looking completely lost. He stands there for another moment, watching the others, seeing what they’re doing for a second, before giving Ghost a ‘one moment’ signal by holding up his index finger and stepping out of the curtain-surrounded area.

Right after he does, another painful sting shoots up your nerves from your forearm, and you make the mistake of looking down at it.

Wounds that only fifteen minutes ago had brought you to a calmer state of mind and were nothing more than incisions made by the scalpel you’d used to cut other people for entirely different reasons now almost hurt to look at. Once you could’ve compared them to marks left by wild animals, and you could’ve described them as though they were trophies, but now, as you stare down at them being cleaned by your own captain, they look nothing like the sort.

They don’t look like any of the pretty descriptions you’d given them. They don’t look like cat scratches you’d gotten in an accident, or like something you would get out of a fight with a bear—they don’t make you look strong and brave like you thought they did.

They look like tally marks. Sanguineous, gruesome tally marks, made by you, like you’d been counting down the days—or seconds, minutes, hours—until you’d had enough. Until you’d had enough of just carving your skin with medical equipment, and needed something more. Craved something more.

Price must notice you staring down at the wounds, because he pauses in his movements to clean them for a moment, the sudden stopping of the stinging sensation the iodopovidone-soaked cotton making you shiver. You look up at him, and see him already looking down at you, concerned.

“You’re thinking about something,” He points out softly, “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

You hesitate and look back down at your arm that Price had stopped cleaning, before mumbling, “Just thinking about how these are gonna scar.” It’s not entirely a lie, but not entirely the truth either.

Price tilts his head to the side a bit, questioningly, “Do you know how they’re gonna scar?”

“Well, when you work in the medical field for a bit, it gets easier to tell.”

You can tell he wants to ask how they’re gonna scar, so you decide to just say, “They’re all about one-and-a-half to two inches deep, so they’ll heal fully and then scar in a few months. Once they do, they’ll be visible, but not too prominent. The scarring tissue will stick above the skin a little bit, and it’ll make it look a little bit puffy.”

“Alright,” Price hums, tone neutral, “So they’ll be… visible.”

He sounds disgusted, A voice in the forefront of your mind insists, while one from the back of your mind tries to tell you, You have no way of knowing that, just see where the conversation goes. He has no reason to be disgusted with you.

“Yeah.”

“Okay then,” Price sets the cotton pad down and grabs the skin stapler he’d been using earlier, “And it’ll take a few months to heal, you said?”

“Several months, yeah.” Price considers this for a moment, pausing in his movements to hold the stapler to your skin.

“Do you think you’ll need any help re-wrapping the bandages while they heal?” He inquires, resuming his movements after asking the question.

“…” You think for a moment, Will you?, and after a few seconds, hesitantly, you reply, “… Yeah.”

“M’kay,” Price hums softly, neutrally. “And would you want me to be the one who does it?”

You think for another few minutes. Preferably, you’d be doing them yourself, but you didn’t trust yourself enough for that—so getting one of them to do it for you is your next best option. You wouldn’t mind if it was Price doing it, but at the same time, you wouldn’t mind if Ghost, Gaz, or Soap did it either.

“It doesn’t matter,” You settle on, before tacking on, “As long as it’s one of you four.”

“Us ‘four’ being… ?”

“You, Soap, Ghost, and Gaz.”

“Got it,” Price nods. You see Soap smile softly out of the corner of your eye before he quickly stops, trying to purse his lips into a line. He’s probably thinking that he shouldn’t be happy about that, You think, almost amused. You feel Ghost’s thumb stutter on your shoulder as well, before it starts back up normally.

Your words affect them more than you thought they would.

Breaking your train of thought, Price staples your skin with a muted click, making you wince.

It’s silent for a few more moments before Gaz finally comes back, now out of breath and carrying a bar of chocolate. He hands you the chocolate bar and says, panting, “I almost had to spar someone for that. Why do you have to like the chocolate one of the other fuckin’ Lieutenants do?”

You take the chocolate bar with your free hand gingerly and blink at it for a few moments before setting it down next to you.

“Nobody told you to get it,” You shrug, before tacking on, “Thank you, though.”

“Uh-huh, yeah, totally, hey so uh—” He looks at Soap and jabs his thumb towards where the door would be behind the curtains, “We’re both needed somewhere else. Again. They said they forgot something… again.”

“Worst fucking timing ever,” Soap grumbles, before clearing his throat and standing up, looking down at you, “Right, I’ll check in on ye later, and help ye wi’ anything ye need me tae, aye? I’ll come wi’ mair chocolate than Gaz did, ‘cause I’m better than him.”

“Got it,” You smile up at him, making him grin back and pat you on the shoulder Ghost’s hand isn’t occupying, before heading out with Gaz.

Then, you’re left with Ghost and Price.

“I should get going too,” Ghost mutters, slowly taking his hand off of your shoulder and gently pushing your head back off of his chest, almost regrettably.

“M’kay,” You watch as he gets up and hesitates, looking like he’s about to give you a hug, before he decides to instead give you a simple head nod and head out the same way the two other operators did.

And then, it was just you and Price.

It’s silent for a bit, until Price speaks up.

“You think a lot,” Price comments, finishing up the last staple.

“Does that surprise you?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

You pause for a moment before sighing through your nose, “It’s nothing. Just the same stuff I was thinking about before.”

“Wanna give me some more detail than that?”

“Not really, no,” You admit, letting your hand fall into your lap as Price lets go of it, “But I have a feeling you’re gonna want me to tell you.”

“I do.”

“It’s just something stupid, like earlier—”

“That wasn’t stupid, [c/n], that was you hurting.”

“I— I know. It’s just that this is actually stupid.”

“Well, tell me what it is, and I’ll be the judge of that.”

You think about how to phrase it in simple terms for a moment, before finally speaking, “I used to think that the scars sort of… symbolized how I was able to control myself and my emotions, and that made me feel…” You can’t think of any synonyms to make the simple words you want to say sound less childish, so you’re forced to say, “… brave. And strong. I just— I thought it showed that I was good at controlling my emotions and stuff, for some reason. But now I’m questioning all of that.”

“You’re very brave,” Price reassures you, and God, it sounds like he’s reassuring a child, “And you’re so strong. But this… this isn’t how you show that. This—cutting yourself—doesn’t make you either of those things. It doesn’t show that you’re either of those things. It shows that you need help.”

“But you just said that I was strong.”

“I did.”

“… Aren’t you contradicting yourself?”

“How would I be contradicting myself?” Price asks.

“You said that me— me… harming myself shows that I need help.”

“It does,” Price hums, and at your confused expression, he continues, “You needing help doesn’t mean you aren’t strong. Needing help and being strong aren’t connected like that.”

You open your mouth to argue but you close it, not knowing what to say. Price sees this and smiles knowingly, simply grabbing your hand to squeeze it once before getting up.

“I’ll check in on you later, okay? I need to get some stuff done, but as soon as I can, I’ll be back to keep you company. Or I’ll send someone else over—whichever you prefer.”

“M’kay,” You mumble, squeezing Price’s hand back before letting go. “You can do whatever. I don’t mind either one.”

“Sounds good.” Price pauses for a moment before leaning down and giving you a quick hug, and then beginning to slip past the curtains blocking any outsider's view of the bed you were sat on.

Before he can leave, you quickly say, "Thank you. For the wound-cleaning-thing."

He pauses at the curtain for a second, before smiling and replying, "You're welcome."

for those curious, the bthb card so far:

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imaginesheaven · 1 year

Note

TF 141 reacting to a very strong Reader(gn preferably) ? Like strong to the point they can lift at most 700pds? (315 kgs) like it's paper? Can be romantic or platonic

(ps. I have zero idea if you are taking requests I feel like this would be a funny thing)

Your wish is my command! This is literally so fun to write :D Keep the requests coming if you want :) I hope you like it!

Warnings: Cursing .. once again (I can't write literally nothing without a single curse word)

Strong!Reader x TF 141 - Friendship Headcanons

The team doesn’t know right away how strong you actually are. It’s not a fact you like to introduce yourself with. Mostly you keep it to yourself until you start to trust the people around you. Apart from this, you like it when people underestimate you.

Funnily your body doesn’t match your strength level at all. You have a rather slender and delicate form.

And that’s how you got your call sign within the Task Force 141. Soap started to call you “Tiny”, which has absolutely nothing to do with your height. He just likes to tease you. Unfortunately, the name got stuck in their brains and everyone calls you “Tiny”. At first you were not happy about it, but over the time you get used to it.

One evening it was your time to shine. Almost the whole team gathered to drink some beer or other alcoholics to unwind from a rather hard mission. Captain Price is nowhere to seen. Probably in his office doing some work like he always does. No one of you is really drunk just a bit more loose than usual.

Of course, Soap started to throw around dares like there is no tomorrow. We all know our beloved Scottish clown. You enjoy the sight as they try to out beat each other in different dares like who can drink more in ten seconds and so on.

“(Y/N), you are so tiny! I’m pretty sure you can’t even pick up Gaz!”, Soap can’t contain his own joy. He would learn in a few seconds to never underestimate someone because of their appearance.

With a bright smile on your lips you stand up and pick up Gaz bridal style. “Okay… that’s new”, Kyle isn’t quite sure how to feel about being carried like this. As if it wouldn’t be enough already you do a few rounds of squats.

The silence is deafening.

You keep doing your squats as Gaz holds onto your form for his dear life. He would never admit it but he feels quite safe and protected in your arms. The soldier starts to see you in a new light. Is that how a crush feels like?!

“Hold on, mate! Wait a second!”, Soap finds his tongue again throwing the empty bottle of beer away in the same second, “Now is my turn!” You put Gaz down and give Soap a chance to be carried bridal style.

“What the hell did they feed you back home?”, Ghost asks quite surprised, which is a rare sight. Grinning you shrug your shoulders doing more squats with Soap in your arms, “Nothing special. I’m just strong and love lifting things.”

“Steamin’ Jesus!”, Soap’s cheeks start to turn red. He has never been carried like that and it feels very good. “Get down, Johnny”, Ghost rolls his eyes playfully annoyed, “You are making a bloody fool out yourself.”

“Why did you keep this secret to yourself?”, Gaz can’t believe they all called you “Tiny” since your transfer into the team. “Just waited for the right moment, I guess”, you hold out your free arms for Ghost, who shakes his head slowly. “Can you carry us both at the same time?”, Soap exclaims excited and almost jumps into your arms again.

Captain Price walks down the hall to get himself a tea. He has been sitting hours at his desk doing tons of paperwork. Now he recalls that he didn’t hear a single word from his team for those said hours. Panic washes over him in an instant. Where were you all and what stupid shit have you done this time?!

“OH MY GOD! THIS IS INSANE!”, Price follows the loud voices he recognizes immediately down the hall but stops abruptly.

There you are all Soap wrapped up in one arm and Gaz in the other one. You carry them both doing squats without even breaking into a sweat. Ghost just raises his beer bottle cheering it at Price, “Hey, Captain! Nice evening, huh?”

Price looks at each of you a solid second with a shocked face, “What the bloody hell I am just witnessing?” Soap claps his hands still excited about your hidden talent, “Tiny is fucking strong, Captain!” Price just nods in agreement, “I can see that.”

“Seems like Tiny isn’t an appropriate call sign anymore”, Ghost summarizes the situation in one sentence. Price can’t still get over the fact you kept this promise for such a long time to yourself. He takes happily the beer that Ghost overs him.

“How much can you lift?”, the Captain can’t take his eyes off of you fascinated and horrified at the same time. You are still doing your squats with Soap and Gaz. You probably could outlift him at any time! He has respected to before but now he kind of worships you. Can’t he have a whole army of soldiers like you?

“Hmm… Around 700 pounds I think was the best I ever did. I can probably lift more but I never tested it out”, you say that like’s something absolutely normal to do. Price almost chokes on his beer as Ghost slides down in his chair. What have you done?

Soap and Gaz share an overly excited glance clapping their hands, “We have to test that out right away!” They wriggle themselves free from your grasp to run around in a search for heavy things to lift.

Ghost wouldn’t admit it but he is also impressed with your skills, “That’s going to be a long night.”

#cod imagine #cod x reader #cod mw2 #john price #john mactavish #simon riley #kyle garrick #friendship headcanons #cod hcs #task force 141 #mw2 x reader #mw headcanons #price x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #gaz x reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader

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simp4konig · 9 months

Text

König jealous of your dog headcannons

Gender-neutral Reader

Word count: Definitely more than 2😎 🗿Honest to God i have no idea whay the word count is 🤦🏼‍♀️These were mewnt to be short headcannons yet as PER USUAL i got carried away 🤡🤡not abt to copynpaste every single paragraph individually into a word counter

*Slow burn

*Established relationship with König

*⚠️Google Translate German!!⚠️ (sorry guys ...💔)

*Not requested 😋😋 just something that's been on my mind.

*Pls dont worru about rqs guys!!😨 Writing two of tjem atm but I jus wanted to post this first (so my profile isnt as barren as the Sahara desert🏜️while i work at a pace that is slower than that of a turtle 🐢)! :)

*Also how tf do people make their bullet points look so good??? is it a formatting thing or sum cuz im ACTUALLT crippled 😰😰

...

König really didn't want to be jealous of your dog. He didn't.

He hadn't anticipated he would ever feel that way, especially towards a dog, of all things.

Despite not being the type to be jealous — at least, not from his perspective; he was only looking out for his darling! — his eyes would narrow whenever a soldier would approach you, being far too handsy with a stranger. His partner. It made his blood boil.

Sure, König would always stare down whoever made the mistake of flirting with you or introducing themselves with playful banter while behind you. Clearing his throat, a tense hand was placed gently yet firmly on your shoulder.

"Hör auf, mit meinem Schatz zu reden, sonst breche ich dir das Genick."

Not understanding a word of what he said, they would cower in fear nonetheless, getting the message with how he'd had spat that sentence and the venom in his voice. Glancing at their wrist despite wearing no watch, they'd insist that they were running out of time and literally run away.

When you'd look up at him in confusion, König looked back down at you innocently, paraphrasing that he had simply said you were taken.

A facepalm from you. "God, König..." you'd groan, unable to stop the silly smirk from stretching itself on your face. "You nearly made that guy shit himself. Please don't do that again."

König would likewise always straighten himself to his full height and cast a menacing shadow at the dummkopf who dared speak poorly of you.

Once they'd mumble rushed apologies and speed-walk away, you'd see him glowing with an adoring expression in his eyes, a complete 180° to the death stare he shot at the recruit and the hand gesture he made at his throat seconds before.

König would always rest a large hand on your lower back to guide you in crowds, keeping you close beside him to further drive in the point that you were strictly off limits.

Really though, he wasn't jealous. Not in the slightest!

He rationalised his behaviour as looking out for you. In no way was he being overbearing or overly territorial; if anything, people were pushing your already established boundaries and he was reminding people of them! He wasn't jealous at all, no.

Behind closed doors, however, he'd be quieter than usual and have a vulnerable look in his eyes, desperate for your reassurance and to hear you say that you loved him.

Deep down, he was insecure.

That good-looking man didn't make you swoon, did he? Why were you laughing so hard at his joke? He wanted to have made you laugh like that. You still loved him, though, didn't you? You wouldn't want to be with anyone else, right? Right?

It wasn't that König didn't trust you. Although this Colonel looked fierce in front of his collegues and used his booming voice to command others with a harsh tone he found it difficult to project at a large crowd, he had always been sensitive in secret. Being bullied in childhood could certainly do that to a person.

You were the only one he trusted to see his insecurities, and would always shower him with love and affection in private, reassuring him that yes, he was still your sweet and handsome König, and yes, of course you still loved him — that guy that got a laugh out of you was only one out of pity, as he gave you the ick anyways.

One afternoon while you two were eating dinner, König had out of the blue been the one to suggest the idea of a pet; a strong, big, intimidating dog that would protect you while he himself couldn't.

In all actuality, he had been thinking this over since the day you two started dating.

After all, as much as he'd had liked to clone himself and have one part of him fighting when duty called while the other part stayed with you to protect you at home, obviously that wasn't achievable. That afternoon seemed most appropriate to bring it up, as he was assigned for a mission in two weeks' time and was already worried sick over you despite still yet to be around you at all times for twelve more days.

You laughed, surprised by his sudden suggestion. In a way, you had already had a guard dog all along, you told him, yet König shook his head vehemently, insistent. "Nein! Was ist, wenn du verletzt bist? What if you get hurt while I am away? I won't allow it!"

Shaking your head in defeat as an amused smile was tugging at your lips, you couldn't really blame your boyfriend for being so paranoid. In a sense, he was justified in thinking so, and you couldn't fault him, him being a soldier — a Colonel — and all.

König himself came to the conclusion that you should have a German-Shepherd — "A big, strong, and intelligent dog" — smiling proudly as he said so. Laughing at his need to prove himself to you and his evident enthusiasm that proved he was deadly serious, you shook your head again with a sincere smile on your face and gave his forehead a kiss. Really, his concern over you was endearing, and you loved him so much.

On the day before the mission of his, he surprised you by leading in a fully-grown German Shepherd into your shared home as he carried a large dufflebag over his shoulder. Although you had wanted to have a puppy, König insisted a trained canine used in the police force and military operations would keep you safe, and he was firm, not budging even when you mustered the best puppy-dog eyes you could. He knew best, and he needed to relieve the anxiety that plagued him when you weren't around immediately. Finally having use for the connections he had made in his position, he was able to bring home on of Kortac's own German-Shepherds.

Standing with a self-assured manner, the dog didn't hesistate in showering you with love once the lead came off, lapping and licking at your face in excitement at seeing his new owner's face.

You laughed out loud when you saw a tactical dog collar around his neck, the same khaki colour that matched König's cargo pants. Another piece of König to remind you of him.

Still standing, König watched with his arms crossed and a huge smile across his face as he saw how happy you were. He was beginning to breathe easy with the knowledge that nothing would come to harm you while he was away.

Tongue out while panting, the dog waited expectantly under you for an order.

You looked up at König, eyes sparkling in child-like excitement. "Can he do tricks?"

Smiling, König's eyes crinkled in his love for you. "Schatz, it can do more than just tricks. It can protect you. And it will."

You looked down at the giant yet sweet dog, and raised your voice slightly.

"Sit." He did so without hesitation.

"Handshake," you prompted, and he offered his paw to you obediently.

"Stay..." you began, a finger in front of his snout, "stay..."

"Good boy!" you squealed, and fed him a dog treat from the one of the XXL bags König had bought for the occasion, along with a mountain of dog toys, and even a bed.

"What are clever boy you are, aren't you? Yes you are! You are!"

König crouched, and pet the top of the dog's head a couple of times, his eyes on you. "What do you want to call it, meine Liebe?"

Pausing, all at once it occured to you. With joyful satisfaction, you exclaimed: "Prince!" You giggled, barely able to contain your happiness. "Our Prince to my sweet, handsome King," you cooed, not failing to notice the way König looked away, his cheeks under the eye holes of his hood reddening at your comment.

While away from you for weeks, even months at a time, he could rest easier knowing that you weren't all alone at home. Although he still worried for you excessively, biting his nails when in his room as he thought over how you could be doing and what you were doing at any given time, at least he wouldn't toss and turn at night thinking over what could happen to you. He'd smile in satisfaction, pleased that his presence would still linger even when he wasn't physically there, finding comfort in the fact that a part of him still remained with you when he was hundreds of miles away.

You, on the other hand, were so happy! Obviously you were overwhelmed with the responsibility — quite frankly, you had never had a dog before, much less one this big — so you struggled to take care of it in the beginning. Knowing what food to feed it, how to keep it entertained, going so often outside you'd flop on a chair in exhaustion was physically and mentally demanding, as you wanted your canine companion to love you unconditionally and not be a bad owner to it at all.

However, it all quickly became routine to you: walking your guard dog as his ears were perked up in alertness, head darting around from side to side; playing with it in the park, and spoiling it with treats when you'd get home; and grooming his soft, dark fur and taking him to vet checkups almost made you wonder how you had managed to live this long without ever owning a pet.

Whenever you'd make yourself some food, you filled his bowl with dog food too. Whenever you had just stepped out of the shower, it would be your dog's turn to be cleaned in the bathtub. Whenever you would lazily lay on the sofa or sprawl yourself on the bed, your dog was cuddled up to you.

It was all fun and games, though, until he'd damn near suffocate you with his sheer mass and make you sneeze from the fur that tickled your nostrils, but you slowly grew used to it, using your German Shepherd as a weighted blanket and hugging it like it was your own child.

Somehow, this furry friend filled a void that König would leave behind, and you practically were both attached by the hip — well, by the ankle and hind leg, actually, but that's beside the point. You two were inseparable, and if König knew that then he'd be surely overjoyed.

When König finally had some precious minutes to himself, the first thing he'd do was call you, wanting to hear your voice and make sure you were alright. He'd nearly trip over his own two feet as he scrambled for his phone to dial your number, nearly knocking over a lamp and falling over some furniture in the process.

You'd pick up on the second ring and would nearly go deaf upon hearing the loud accented voice on the receiver. "Liebling! How are you, my sweet? I have been missing you!"

You two would exchange these sorts of questions and proclamations of love back and forth, so lovey-dovey that some of the more daring operators in König's faction made gagging noises on the other side of the door, while the more serious operators scolded them and reminded them that they were yet to feel the touch of another man/woman.

As König would listen to your ramblings about how happy you were and your lovely German Shepard, however, his ears perked up and he listened more closely.

"Prince is so lovely! He's my sweet baby and I love him so so so much! He's definitely my best friend right now, 100%. Everyone back home is getting pissy with me when I don't answer their calls because I spend more time with him than I do with them but can you really blame me when I have this beautiful prince? I mean, he's so sweet! Whenever I don't wake up at the same time in the morning he's jumping into bed and licking my face and oh my God I cannot cope with this cuteness! He's such a good boy! The very best boy! The best boy of all the boys!"

Meanwhile, König stood there, his mouth agape.

...What did you mean he was your sweet baby? Your beautiful prince? Your good boy?

Why would you call him the — not the best, but the very best — boy, the best of all boys? You couldn't have been serious.

It was just a dog. Why were you so attached to it?

It wasn't like König didn't grasp the concept of strong bonds between humans and animals — in fact, he had always been a strong believer of the "dogs being a man's best friend" common knowledge — but... this? You were coddling the thing, for God's sake! It was supposed to be fierce and threatening, not cute and cuddly. How was it supposed to protect you when all you'd do was hug it and give it compliments?

He felt his jaws tighten when you panned the camera down to show the dog peacefully laying beside you on the bed, you stroking his ears. On. The. Bed. On his and your bed. The bed the two of you would sleep on.

König couldn't believe this; he, a grown man, a disciplined soldier that moved up the ranks to be a Colonel, a 6'10 brutal killing machine who l... wanted you to be calling him those things, wanted you to run your fingers through his hair like that. Not some mutt. You were giving it star treatment and pampering it way too much than you should have.

He laughed at himself for thinking so irrationally and for being so immature. I mean, it was a dog. There was no competition to be won, nothing to prove — his rational thought repeated to him that you still loved him regardless — yet the ultimate prize would be you and your attention.

He chuckled disingenuously as you rambled on about something, and the smile under his hood didn't quite reach his eyes.

When he finally returned after grueling months away from you, those pale blue eyes still crinkled up in happiness whenever they saw you, still picked you up and spun you in the air as you'd shriek like a banshee while your legs kicked freely, still gave you a loving kiss on your lips before showering your face with wet kisses. He'd pull away, a boyish grin on his face, his face flushed, your eyes locked with his in an intimate moment...

...And then his mood would sour as your dog leaped up towards you, not wanting to be left out in the reunion.

You'd fail to notice his hands clenched into fists as your dog took the oh so comfortable spot on your lap, where he should have been laying, how below his mask a scowl was aimed at the dog you'd shower with kisses that should have been for him, how the dog would slobber your face and leave it dripping in drool, almost as if it was proving some point to him and being totally smug about it.

Of course, he didn't seem the least bit bothered to you — he wouldn't let his behaviour show. This was utter childishness, completely ridiculous, and absolutely absurd, yet somehow König couldn't control the jealousy that would stew inside of him hours after you'd fall asleep, glaring at the dog laying in between you when all he had wanted all day was to cuddle up to you and hold you close.

Somehow, his plan to keep you safe backfired, because the dog took his job as your body guard too seriously and would not let him be affectionate with you. He was beginning to despise the creature.

When you'd be walking the dog together and shower it with praise, König's hands clenched into tight fists. When you'd stroke the dog's head gently, running your fingers through his thick fur as his front paws were tucked neatly underneath him, König's nails dug into his biceps as he kept his arms firmly crossed, hating what he was seeing through his peripheral vision. When you'd glance at him as your dog was nestled between your legs, he'd turn his head, hiding the furrowed eyebrows and the clear pout on his face of an annoyed child, behaving like an annoyed child.

• In conclusion: give your König a hug. :( A kiss right on the lips and tell him that he's your sweet baby! Your beautiful prince! Your good boy! Your favourite person in the entire world and the best of the best!

• Reserve that precious spot on your lap *just* for him, and allow him to be putty in your hands!

• Run your fingers through his hair just like you would with your dog, and scratch that sensitive spot on his scalp with your fingernails!

• Don't make him regret ever getting the dog for you :'( As time goes on, it will eventually become the "father that didn't want the pet is now best friends with it and the pet is most affectionate with him" kind of dynamic.

• Just because muscular men and army-hardened soldiers like König were disciplined to be stoic and strong, sometimes they want nothing more than affection and words of affirmation from their lover from time to time. <3

So, you'd now lounge on the couch, content with your two guard dogs on either side of you; your Prince laying to your right, and your King in between your thighs, stroking the top of his head as his chest rose and fell at a steady rhythm.

...

Note: Gonna kms 🤡🔫 i have ro to go back to school tmr fucjing WHY i hate everyoje there 😭So yeah less frequent updates sorry guys 💔💔still going to be writing my long-ass fanfictions but itll take more time and ill probs have like 10 mentsl breakfowns daily 🤪 literallt cannot wait 🥰

My writing process is so incomprehensible tho 😭i jump from the first fic im writing to the second one im writing WAYY too often 🗿but ig its good because in a way im not TECHNICALLY procrastinating and beinf productive with 2 projects at once,, tho idk i guess tbats just a major cope if im beinf honest🤷🏼‍♀️

THANKS FOR 1000+ LIKES AND NEARLY 80 FOLLOWERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 🥳🥳🥳🥳🎉🎉🎉🎉🎊🎊💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💕💕💕💕 LOVE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF U AND WISH YOU NOTHING BUT HAPPINESS IN LIFE 🥹🥹🥹❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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tabbyxcatt · 8 months

Text

DEMON SLAYER HEADCANONS (RANDOM)

I was debating whether I should just make it NSFW for all the characters and write all fluff separately but couldn't decide so... Giyuu and Gyomei's is NSFW and Sanemi and Kyojuro's is Fluff. It's titled headcannons but.. is it really? idk Anyways, I hope you enjoy it!

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Characters: Tomioka Giyuu, Shinazugawa Sanemi, Rengoku Kyojuro, Himejima Gyomei x AFAB!Reader

Genre: NSFW, Fluff

Content Warning: fem!reader, (self)degradation, curse words (excuse my language 𓏗-𓏗), slight dub con if you squint really hard, alcohol, size kink. I think that's about it.

p.s I got a little carried away writing Gyomei's (nsfw) my bad lol.

GIYUU (FREAK IN THE SHEETS) HES LOWKEY A PERVERT

Giyuu doesn’t really initiate any physical affection at first. Truth be told, he doesn’t really initiate ANYTHING in the beginning besides confessing to you.

Tbh he didn’t expect to get this far after confessing. He never imagined you would accept and return his confession. So he’s not exactly sure what to do next since he didn't plan for this.

In the beginning of the relationship you have to lead. In all aspects. It's definitely a slow burn and he's awkward as hell about it all but don’t patronize him! He’s trying. He likes you and he knows you like him, he doesn’t want to hold back with you but he’s just… so. clueless.

He’s touch starved af, he’s not used to affection, compliments or attention but goddamn does he EAT. THAT. SHIT. UP. He loves it. You make him feel like no one has ever made him feel before. But take it easy with him, he's quick to get overwhelmed. It's all new to him and it scares tf out of him. But thrills him all the same.

Gaining Giyuu's trust is a difficult feat in itself, but making him fall in love? Girl you must have magical powers or something because it would take A LOT for Giyuu to allow himself to ever get as close as he has with you. Giyuu is definitely the type to wait until marriage or until he's more than sure that he can trust you.

It would take him some warming up to and getting used to (even though he craves it every second of the day). He's deprived himself of emotions for so long it takes him a while to relax and let himself go, let himself feel and experience.

But when he finally does, buckle up buckaroo because it's going to be an absolutely exhilarating ride.

Giyuu is one hundred percent pussy drunk after his first time with you. He never had a high sex drive, really only masturbating because he needed to every once in a while and out of fear that he wouldn't be able to use it at all. But even when he did he never got that sense of "relief", much less any satisfaction and the thought of masturbating to someone that he'd never and would never be intimate with just turned him off all the more.

That was, until he met you. You and your presence that completely overloaded his senses, your loving eyes that seemed to drown him whenever he made eye contact, your melodious voice calling his name almost sensually, your lingering touch so soft on his skin, all drawing him in like a siren luring a sailor into the waters with her. And now he finally understood what it was all about. And that sex drive that was nearly non existent before now came back with a full force almost too much for him to handle.

Once you guys get past his firsts and get more comfortable with each other, he’d change but only behind closed doors for the most part.

I'm not saying Giyuu has a complete 180 personality change, but you definitely have the privilege of seeing a side to Giyuu no has has ever seen before. One Giyuu himself didn't even know existed.

In the comfort of his place, or yours, or wherever he can get you alone, he’d do and say the most perverse things that leave you with your mouth wide open and eyes nearly bulging because your quiet little dewdrop really just said that to you.

He can be bold when he wants but he does it in a way that’s just so..??? Endearing? Charming? I can’t find the right word, but he could be telling you his most perverse fantasies with a blush on his face and a hitch in his voice and it would have you absolutely putty in his beautiful hands. (also headcanon I believe Giyuu would have the prettiest hands -long slender fingers, hands the size of your face, prominent veins, clean, trimmed nails- EVERYTHING. all the works)

Getting home from a stressful mission? Need a long, warm bath to relax? No problem, your sweet bf is already setting it up for you.

As he helps you strip- lemme clarify- as HE strips you down, this man will slide your panties down, slowly, kneeling down before you as he caresses the soft flesh of your thighs glancing up at you with a small appreciative smile. Rising up steadily while holding eye contact with you, he goes from looking up to looking down as he towers over you after successfully removing your panties. Never once breaking eye contact, he’d raise the fist that had your pantie bunched up to his face and sniff much to your horror.

Homeboy would sniff deeply, eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head at your scent, choking on a groan, before staring you down with dilated pupils, hard as a rock. He’d stuff them into his pocket “for later” he’d mumble before walking over to you, planting a sweet kiss on your slightly agape mouth before saying “enjoy your bath love” with a devious smirk ghosting on his lips.

He’d simply walk out of the bathroom after that -leaving you slightly horrified but more turned on that he just did that- to your shared bedroom while you bathed, to soil your panties even more. A process he’s done more than once (some without your knowledge, but what you don't know won't hurt.. Right? He can't help it, he’s addicted to you. But you know. You always find them. You do most of the laundry after all, always finding them absolutely wrecked and crusty. Thanks Giyuu.)

Giyuu gets so wrapped up in you and the way you feel that if you initiate anything with him, as long as you're behind closed doors and shielded away from the outside world, he's on you in seconds, completely ignoring anything that's not you.

Giyuu doesn't fully realize how far gone he is with you until the sound of his own self deprecating voice, growling in the distance rings in his ears, "what is it? can't handle it? huh? is the loners dick too big?" "tell me, pretty girl, is my dick game as lame as they said it would be?" "scream my name baby, let everyone know how good this loser is fucking you."

He doesn't even recognize himself, he's embarrassed by his own actions/words so believe that he's going to be blushing the entire time he's dicking you down.

He needs reassurance, craves it so much that in moments like those he doesn't even realize what he's saying, brain turned to mush as he's lost in the way you feel, all the insults he's been called combined with the fact that he never imagined he'd be as close to someone as he is with you, have him spewing such self degrading dirty talk. Honestly his brain short circuits whenever you guys get freaky~ because one he never knew it could feel this good, two he can't even begin to comprehend that he is the one that has you whining, sobbing, cumming as hard as you are and three he's getting to experience this with an absolute knockout like you.

(i saw someone briefly mention pervert giyuu stealing panties and just ran with the idea. give me more closetedpervert!giyuu pls, completely obsessed!giyuu, desperate!giyuu who will take (literally) anything you give him. i love him sm)

(btw im sorry i wrote his so messily)

SANEMI (A SIMP) UNAPOLOGETICALLY SO, HE’D BE LIKE ‘SAY SOMETHIN I DARE U’

Sanemi knows he comes off as unhinged sometimes, it’s on purpose, an act (MOSTLY) to keep people from getting close to him.

So when he realizes he has a crush on you, he doesn’t want to acknowledge it at first, refuses to. He can’t and he won't. It's stupid, reckless and selfish and he knows it’s just going to end in heartbreak. And that’s something he doesn’t want to live through again.

It’s fairly easy to ignore you. There isn't much reason for you guys to run into each other, like none…he is not close to anyone you know.

Even if he was, he throws himself in mission after mission, so he doesn’t really get much rest time to hang out with anyone. The man doesn’t even hang out with his brother. The closest person he has to a friend is Obanai and that’s because of their shared hatred for Giyuu.

So the idea of even developing a crush is ridiculous and childish to him. But he’s noticed you. And now that he has, he can’t stop. You and your sparkly eyes, bouncy hair and time-freezing smile. All in passing of course, he'd never actually go up to you and you've never made any effort in talking to him. You’ve never noticed or paid him any mind until you had to.

Sent on a mission to assist the Wind Hashira, order delivered by your crow, since you were the closest demon slayer in the vicinity to him. The universe was on his side that day, but also fuck you universe cause why tf would you do this to him.

His mission would require a female to go undercover, but he knew of no one who could help, and anyone who could (Shinobu or Mitsuri) couldn’t. Until you showed up, like a saving grace, an angel. Eyes too sparkly and wide, hair framing your face too perfectly - did you cut it? - and that sickeningly sweet smile of yours that caused all of these unwanted feelings to bubble up in his guts, all directed to him this time. Who sent you? Where was your crow? He would make sure your crow could never give you another order.. Ever again.

And boy did you help him. You went into this mission and kicked. ass. It was great- he never knew you could fight so well- sweaty and disheveled but nowhere near battered (he took the stronger attacks to spare you, a junior, he was a Hashira after all… they had the duty to protect the subordinates… right? Oh whatever-). And not once did you stop looking so flawless.

As you both headed towards the closest Wisteria House (he needed proper rest after having taken on non-stop missions for a few weeks straight. And you had a sprained ankle he insisted you’d get checked.) He couldn’t help the burn of his ears as he heard you talk. Your voice was much prettier than he expected. He rolled his eyes at the thought. Of course it fucking was.

He couldn't stop his glances over at your form, you were breathtaking, captivating in the sun rise. He wanted nothing more than to sprint out of there and get away from you and his stupid feelings as fast as possible, but every wince and grimace as you stepped caused his own to falter. Fingers itching with the need to reach out to you, words choked in his throat as he tried (poorly) to stop himself from offering to carry you all the way back.

Next thing he knew, he was dropping you off in front of the all too familiar doors of the Wisteria House, gently moving you off his back, even though you reassured him multiple times that you were fine and he didn’t need to go through all the trouble. The blush on his face never settled down.

You both grew close to one another during your stay at the Wisteria House, your room was located down the hall from his, but every morning he waited by your door, ready for the routine morning walk you would take. You helped train with him as he recovered, every meal was eaten together, you'd gotten closer to Sanemi in those days than anyone had been able to in years.

He blinked. (More like time skipped, courtesy of me 😀) And somehow he was courting you. Yes. You heard that right, courting. You were a catch and he would never let that up. Especially when you were reciprocating his attention. He was a bug eyed, crazy motherfucker and you- you were perfect. He was crazy, not stupid!

He treats you like royalty. Offering to do just about anything for you, buying and getting you anything you liked, even if you never asked him to out loud, he's hyper aware of you and your surroundings. He’d notice if your eyes lingered on an item a few seconds too long. Next thing you knew, he’d be presenting it to you proudly, a satisfied smirk on his face as your eyes lit up.

He’s a proud man.

You’re his pride. Having a doll such as yourself on his arm, his ego shoots through the roof and he’s unashamed about it. He wants EVERYONE to know you’re his. And he’s yours. Mind, body and soul. And he’d protect you from anything and anyone.

Tired? Don't exert yourself anymore and let him carry you. Sleepy? Just rest your pretty head on his shoulder and rest your eyes. Hungry? Should he cook for you or do you want him to go get something to eat. He’s even more protective when you have to go on missions. Most of which he isn’t allowed to join because he wouldn’t let you do anything if he did.

Sanemi knows that the future isn't promised so long you both remain in your line of work, so he lives his life with you with no regrets, he's going to do everything he can for you.

With how unashamed he is he doesn’t care who sees him spoil you. No one is going to get in his way and stop him. No one is going to mention it or else he’d see to it that they’re never able to say another word again (and never be able to enjoy solid food ever again either).

You’re his baby doll, his princess, and he’s not ashamed to show the world, why should he be?

(sanemi you fucking simp ily)

KYOJURO (TICKLISH) HIS BOOMING ASS LAUGH JUST MAKES IT FUNNIER

HE IS NOT DEAD. RENGOKU WILL LIVE ON FOREVER.

He knows he likes you after taking a very serious moment to assess his feelings. He naturally runs hot, but he feels extra warm and uncharacteristically clammy whenever you’re around. It flusters him to no end. He’s not so bold around you (at least he tries not to be) since you seem to flinch and giggle every time he speaks which only causes his blush to spread like wildfire.

His stare is uncomfortably ardent. He doesn’t mean to, really, in his defense he's not completely aware of how it looks. But you captivate him in a way no one has ever before. (Another inexperienced bean.) And he finds it really difficult to keep his eyes off you. He's completely awed by your swordsmanship and beauty.

In other words, he’s a little off putting at first, especially with his mannerisms. Like his inability to use an inside voice even when eating, his hair that you swear he dye's on the regular and his two toned eyes, whether he’s staring off into the distance or straight into your soul, overall he’s a bit odd and intense.

But after you have a conversation to get to know each other, you find yourself endeared by him and all false assumptions you had of him before cease to exist. Being near him was like being comforted by the warmth of a fire after being out in the cold all day. A smile so bright and dazzling, you wanted to be bathed in it constantly.

And a beautiful friendship blooms after that. A friendship you both cherish and nurture, both eager to close that chapter called 'friendship' and move onto the next. But you’re hesitant because how could Kyojuro, the Flame Hashira, ever pursue any other passion aside from his work? And Kyojuro just has no idea how to break it to you, what if you didn’t like him that way? What if he was too much? He knew he could be sometimes and he doesn't expect you to willingly want to put up with it. You had blessed him with a friendship nonetheless, and that was something he would forever cherish.

Kyojuro fairly quickly becomes your best friend, and it's true that he's gotten unbelievably close to you because of his feelings for you but that is not the only reason. Kyojuro admires you for the demon slayer that you are and the person underneath the title. And even if he can't have you the way he wants, he will be by your side, supporting you in all the ways that he can.

So it’s just like any other day as he heads over to your estate, but this time he walks with a much wider stride, his chest puffed out a little more than usual and an unmistakable glint to his eyes. A confident look, one of absolute, like he knows that by the end of it he’s going to have the privilege of calling you his.

And then he gets there… and just… can’t. He can’t bring himself to say anything in that regard. To confess how his heart yearns for you.

So he’s listening to you ramble about the latest mission you were on, busying yourself (and him) in the kitchen and he just kinda waits for the opportune moment.

He ends up giving himself excuses as to why it’s not the right time, but to be honest he’s just scared of rejection, he’s never confessed to anyone before. And it’s nerve wracking.

Until night falls.

And both of you are sitting in your living space, empty bottles of well aged sake he had brought from his home, laid strewn across the floor and both of you had been reduced to a pile of giggling, bumbling red-face messes. He had relaid to you a joke Tengen had told him, well tried to at least but he had completely butchered it in his drunken state which only caused you to laugh harder as you witnessed his buffering.

“I-... wait! How did it go… Oh! No wait- that's not right- stop laughing! Y/N! Give me a second to recall-!”

He said all this in between his laughing and blubbering, constantly squirming as he couldn’t stay in one place, beside you, whose head was spinning in light headedness as the drinks were catching up, hard. In your hysteric, you leaned over to slap him in the shoulder but missed it completely which caused your hand to brush down against the side of his stomach a bit harshly.

It caught him completely off guard. The action sent a jolt through his body, jumping far away from your touch staring at you with wide, terrified eyes. You quirked an eyebrow at his reaction, the light bulb seemed to go off in your head, as he watched worriedly as your eyes lit up and an evil grin pulled across your face.

He should have seen it coming. He was a Hashira after all. He should have been able to dodge such an uncoordinated lunge but he was matching you in the inebriated department since he didn’t drink often, well, at all really. And you guys just downed two bottles. Next thing he knew he was thrown to ground with you playfully straddling his thighs, unable to contain the boisterous laughter that tore through him at your merciless fingers.

He doesn't recall the last time he’s let go like this. If ever. Or the last time he laughed this hard. He can’t and he doesn’t want to, since this moment, he was experiencing it with you and he was going to relish in it. Even if he wanted to squirm out of your ministrations, even as tears sprung into both your eyes from how hard you had been laughing. Even if it was getting painful.

“Stop! Please!” he laughed, a loud boyish laugh tearing through him, his voice turning high pitched. It causes your heart to swell. You hop off him, ending your torture, curling into yourself in pain as you tried controlling your laughter, maybe it was the alcohol, but you felt so high in happiness. His laugh boomed throughout your house and you seared this moment into your brain, practically engraving it into your memories.

“Shut up!” you cried in happy tears, “I’m gonna pee!” This caused more illogical laughter to go on for a few more minutes. By the end of it, you both were left panting and hiccuping, wiping the tears that streamed from your faces. Basking in the moment.

Something overcame him and he couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to, this was it, this was his chance, so turning to you, the look in his eyes so raw and vulnerable, but with a fire burning behind them as he said, “I love you.” You smiled gratefully, eyes crinkling so much it nearly obscured your vision, “I love you too Kyojuro.”

(my sweet baby angel, i love him so much, the loml <3, he deserves nothing but good things, i will never forgive you akaza.)

GYOMEI HIMEJIMA (A SOFT DOM) WITH AN UNDENIABLE SIZE KINK

There’s really no other way around it.

Gyomei knows he looks intimidating to a degree. His stature alone has people unwilling to approach him, the whites of his eyes often have people feeling a bit uncomfortable, and the fact that he’s so emotional throws people for a spin. Have you seen the weapon he wields? Yeah, most people second guess even looking at him.

But how can they not? He’s big. His simple presence demands attention. Gyomei is a dom without a doubt, not only is he the oldest of the Hashira, he’s the biggest and the strongest, and it's one of things that first caught your attention about him. Because not only is his personality nurturing, that man could protect you without breaking a sweat and that is so ridiculously attractive.

You love his size. It’s impossible not to when he lifts you up so effortlessly with one arm, the way his large hand cradles your face so gently, his build practically shields you away from the world as you walk side by side. Your small hand gripping his finger tightly, too small to actually hold hands with him comfortably.

But it took you guys some time to get to this point, where he is no longer self conscious about his size -a small insecurity he developed after getting with you- where it no longer eats away at him whenever he tries to do anything with you. Gyomei never really thought of finding love, it was never something he saw in his future so he didn’t think much of his size, until he met you.

Both you and Gyomei have a size kink. Yours has always been present but Gyomei's was one he developed after getting past the fear of hurting you. I mean, he's always going to be bigger than any other human and with his lack of romance, he's never really thought about it any other way besides gaining strength. But with you, Gyomei can appreciate his body even more, because not only can he save others with his superior strength, now he has the honor of protecting you and pleasing you.

You love how massive he is and how gently he treats you. Gyomei could, quite literally, tear you in half and rearrange your guts, but he doesn't and the thrill alone is enough to get your body ready enough to take him. He of course ignores your pleading, coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of you until he deems you ready enough.

By that time you’re completely boneless, unable to think of anything else besides Gyomei. Consumed by thoughts of Gyomei. He’s everywhere. His towering frame above you, his large hands covering your body, his lips engulfing your own. His smell is everywhere, covering your senses. He’s everywhere. And yet you can’t get enough.

He loves how needy you get, he loves fucking you dumb to put it simply. He loves that he’s absolutely ruined you for anyone else (not that you would ever even imagine being with anyone else). The size of his finger inside you reaches a spot that even your largest partner before him could never reach. HIS FINGER. When you told him this he felt a primal satisfaction he had never felt before.

He loves how small you are. Doesn’t matter what size you are, you will always be small compared to him. He loves how soft you are, how squishy and plump. Gyomei is definitely into body worship, he's the type to view the body as a temple and the fact that you're sharing it with him??? He's weak in the knees. He can't see but he doesn't have to, to know that you're absolutely gorgeous.

He loves how he’s too big for him to fit in your mouth but goddamn do you try. You try your hardest for him. Until there’s tears streaming down your face in frustration, he only knows because he can hear your sniffling, he’ll put out of your mouth gently with a “What’s wrong baby?” And you’d whine at him, voice hoarse as you tell him “Just wanna please you.” It would swell his heart to hear. You’re so cute. Tears would well up in his eyes undoubtedly.

He’d have you trembling with his finger alone, by the time he actually gets to slide into your warm, juicy walls, you’d be shuddering and gasping underneath him. Gripping onto his arms tightly as you’d be reduced to nothing but tears and incoherent sentences at the over stimulation. Something neither one of you will ever get used to. You're sure you'd be drooling as well but thanks to whatever shred of rational thought you have, you save yourself the embarrassment from doing it.

“One… two…” He’d count out loud with each push of his hips, counting down the number of inches you’d take before tapping out. Sometimes you can take his full size, on those days, Gyomei has to restrain himself so much he’s literally shaking above you as he tries not to pound into you relentlessly, dreaming of using you as a cock-sleeve.

He can feel the bulge as he settles inside you, a large hand traveling from your hip to your soft tummy. He’s groaning at the touch, biting his lips harshly to stop himself from spilling filthy praises, unable to believe you can take him.

Instead he opts to roll his hips deeper into you, hardly pulling out, as he can feel a particularly hard part inside you that lets him know he’s reached your limit. He presses himself deeper into your womb, your walls constricting and fluttering around him endlessly, your body stuck between trying to push him out and suck him back in, all too much for Gyomei who unloads inside you with something short of a roar. You'd cry out, following soon after him, as you feel his seed deep inside you, warm and gushing, leaving you feeling absolutely swollen and satisfied.

He’ll get off you and take a moment to just sit and bask in the ambiance, admiring his work. Both of you are drenched in a combination of juices (he could feel how drenched he is, you're no better, he can only imagine), he could hear you both panting and breathing heavily, both have tears of pleasure streaming down your faces. He loves it. He can’t get enough of it. Which is a bit of a problem because his stamina is insane and he could do it all over again.. it's a good thing you enjoy the challenge. And it's even better that he's so merciful, he knows your limits and will never push you past them without your permission.

He loves cradling you afterwards, you’re unable to move much without whining tiredly. Your shared bed is on the floor, even if you wanted something more western style, there’s no bed frame that could accommodate to the weight and height of Gyomei. He would pull you onto his chest, nestling you safely into his arms. Whispering and murmuring heart warming praises to one another, he silently prays for your relationship and for your safety before he falls asleep.

(i love this big teddy bear, he needs more love!)

I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE GIFS OR CHARACTERS

I hope you guys enjoyed reading this :D Please do let me know if I should make these longer or shorter. I am open to suggestions and feedback (as long as you're nice, I got a tender heart pls be nice to me).

That's it cuties, I hope I was able to make some of your hearts flutter and add a bit more to yours guys spank-bank collection lol.

If you wanna send any requests please make sure they adhere to these rules, these are the fandom's I write for as well, don't be shy!

/) /) ( ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ) / づづ ~ ♡

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #giyuu tomioka #rengoku kyojuro #sanemi shinazugawa #gyomei himejima #giyuu x reader #giyuu smut #kyojuro x reader #sanemi x reader #gyomei x reader #gyomei smut #tabbyxcatt #kny kyojuro #kny rengoku #kny giyuu #kny sanemi #kny gyomei #kny

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beautifulbrainrot · 8 months

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I see this working for either a sub james or a sub sirius, you put on s strap underneath your pants so it's basically like you have a boner right, and he sits down in your lap with his back to your chest and is Insanely turned on by the feeling of the bulge in your pants and he starts grinding against it begging you to fuck him but you don't bulge and have him keep rubbing himself against your strap In your pants until eventually you bend him over the next table and fuck him so long that he has cum so many times that there is nothing left to come out of his dick (maybe if you're fucking a subby sirius you have a subby james one the other side of the table with his cock stuffed in sirius mouth and you order james to face fuck him, have all of his holes being absolutely abused, maybe even having a vibrator in james ass and he's coming down sirius throat non stop, oh oh ohhhh and under the table you have a subby remus riding a dildo while sucking sirius cock (maybe even after you're done with them you have them fuck you one by one while the others watch and they're all so eager to please mommy(maybe even having two of them fuck you at the same time)) okay I got carried away sorry...

Tbf there's like 3 different ideas in here, you don't have to write everything together unless you want to

i am definitely going to write something with all of these ideas but for now i need to say OH. MY. FUCKING. GOD!?!!!?

HOLY SHIT

also how tf did u know i was thinking about sub!sirius at this very moment….

NOT EVEN KIDDING I WAS LIT THINKING ABOUT HIM AND JAMES AND THIS POPS UP??!!

but like omghh.

i really, really want my boys to sit on my lap. like i am small as fuck but i want those giant mf to sit on me LIKE CRUSH ME BABY W UR 6 FT ASS PLEASE!!!

please god i need more sirius x james x reader rn holy fuck…

they’re both my baby boys 💋💋

OMG AND THE REMUS PARTY YESSS ALL MY BOYS TOGEYHERR GOD I NEED THAT!!

#james potter #james potter x reader #sub james potter #sub!james potter #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sub sirius black #sub!sirius black #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #sub remus lupin #sub!remus lupin #poly marauders #poly!marauders #poly!marauders x reader

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bluesidez · 29 days

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OKAY I HAD TO HIT YOU W THIS BC I NEED THIS TO COME TRUE 🗣🗣‼️‼️

AcademicRival!Miguel x AcademicRival!reader

where they will do quite literally ANYTHING (legally) POSSIBLE to one up each other.

whether their petty rivalry began in high school or first year of uni/college, IDC- but they absolutely despise each other.

and!!! at some point down the track, they forgot why they were beefing in the first place, only for it to start stemming from a place of 'jealousy' (yk how sometimes jealousy is actually feelings of romantic interest in disguise,, yeah, that) and it gets to the point where they are quite literally making it all their friends' problem bc of it.

like i can imagine reader drinking something that Miguel sees and Miguel going 'i need to have this all the time and sell it out so reader can never have any' and Peter is like '???', or reader finding out Miguel got a certain mark and goes 'nobody speak to me for a month i have to understand everything about quantum physics before that smug asshole opens his mouth' and Jess is like '??? just kiss, fym??'

and then they finally have a moment where they have no choice but to rely on each other- whether Miguel's car breaks down on the side of the road reader happens to drive by and she takes him to his, or if reader desperately needs help in a situation and immediately calls him bc she knows he'll pick up bc she needs scary dog privileges and thats HIM so then they end up having a moment of reflection together with either super fluffy smut or absolute debauchery and fluffy aftercare i totally dont mind either way.

IDK do you know what i mean??? 🫣🫢🤭

anyway LY BLUE-BLUE, thank yew for letting me ramble on 🤍🩵

Are you asking me to write this? 🧐 (I shall add it to the pending ideas list just for you 🐰🩵)

I wrote that as a reply as soon as you sent it, but now I have more ideas that I wanna yap about to go along with this.

SO!! You already have a rivals, enemies to lovers trope going on. What better way to make it even more fun than to add the stoic x chatty dynamic???

Like I’m imagining the reader and Miguel first meeting in middle or high school. He’s a transfer student that’s immediately making the top grades and people are like where tf did he come from?? Reader doesn’t really think anything of it, she just carries on with her school life, chatting away (and getting in on the gossip about Miguel).

It’s not until he ends up in the same class with reader one semester (probably in high school) that reader is finally able to be in close contact with him. He’s so quiet and a little boring, but there’s always random girls coming in and out of the classroom to attempt to chat to him.

They’re always bringing snacks or sweets for him. He always turns them down with a “No thank you. I don’t like chocolate.” type of response. (What he thinks to be polite and cordial)

The guys in the class think he’s a huge jerk. The girls in the class still fond over him. You think he’s an oddball, a weirdo. But you really have no solid information to justify it.

It’s not until one day that the teacher asks this obscure question that he pisses you off. (I havent thought of a weird question yet tho). Everyone else has given crude or stupid answers, riling each other up and joking. You raise your head to give the most out-of-the-box, yet plausible answer that leaves the teacher impressed and the class laughing in shock. Miguel scoffs and debunks it so fast, that you start to feel like one of his rejected groupies. If you thought the laughter for your answer was loud, the laughter for his sounds like the crowd in a football stadium.

You’re embarrassed but you don’t really show it. You just brush it off and joke with everyone else like usual.

Then, one of the class’s first huge tests come. You’re gunning for the number 1 spot although you figure it won’t be too hard with half of the room being class clowns and the other half not giving af. You read over the material once and already have a good grasp on it, so you joke around with everyone else. There’s rap battles and TT routines. You guys even manage to get the teacher in on some of them. From the front of the room, you can see Miguel glancing back at you with such a sour look on his face. Wtf was his deal??

Test day finally comes. You’re the first to turn yours in with a smug smile on your face. You even take a nap until the next bell.

You’re on cloud nine for about a good week. Although, every time you open your mouth in class, Miguel looks like he woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

Then, the time came for the teacher to hand out the papers. He was pretty theatrical and loved to announce who got the highest score.

You were gearing up for him to say your name. And you don’t know of you’re crazy, but you’re certain your mom didn’t put “Miguel O’Hara” on your school registration form.

You frown as you come back to reality, watching as teacher handed him is paper. From your seat, you can see the bright red 100 in the corner, a smiley face to adorn it.

Then the teacher hands you your paper. A 99.5. Just 0.5 points from a perfect score. And what you got points taken off for is something so ridiculous that you could scream.

You can see him in your peripheral as you chat with the other students about the answers. Just as you discuss your silly mistake you take a small look at him. He has a faint smirk on his face, as if to laugh at your downfall.

From then on, you decide that it’s a war.

[and obviously, the story would travel with them as they grow. Once they’re adults, I can imagine Miguel to still be this same stoic, yet more approachable person who has had a ROSTER of hookups and a reader who’s still so flirty and chatty, yet can’t find a good partner to save their life. The dynamic of him knowing exactly how to make reader feel good verses reader being overwhelmed for once would be sooooo good]

What do you think Lexie-bun?? 🥸

#lab testing 🔬#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader

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hopelesswritergall · 1 year

Text

I went full Picsart on this!

Requested by no one other than my imagination and inspired by @valeskafics and @sapphire-writes . Just their entire blogs, go read it!

Thank you @annikin-im-panicin for helping me out with some of them!

Warnings: Alcohol, throwing up. Let me know if I missed any.

Taglist: None, Lmk if you want to be added!

Yes you are a silly drunk and yes I used silly nicknames.

Is it implied that you are sorta fwb with almost everyone? Yes yes it is.

Reblogs,Comments and follows are greatly appreaciated. Let me know what you thought about it!

Modern!Aegon

If this bitch ain’t the one who got you drunk then he sure is the one who gets to have fun!

He got a call from you which was just gibberish, the only thing he could pick up was drunk, pick me up and party. His face: 🤨. TF is he supposed to do with party?! But luckily for him he made you install friend locator. Hah suck it Y/N it is useful and it was worth spending money on for the premium version! He will so rub it in your face later on.

So let’s say he does find you at 3 am absolutely hammered. Like you just went into a liquor store and bought it all. That’s how Aegon described it but we can’t really trust this little shit.

First of all he safely parked the car before walking towards you, and him being the little annoying cunt he is started filming it all. He got all your weird drunk confessions that should have stayed in the dark. “Aegon your uncle Daemon is like hot. So are your mom and aunt. Why is everyone so handsome!” You clutched onto him as if your life depended on it. “Whoa Princess, I know I’m super attractive and all that but no need to rip out my hair.”

The walk to his car should have been really short but…. no. You being supported by him decided to try to go pet a cat walking down the street. The cat did not like you and it did not end well. “Why does everyone hate me!?” Cue your crying and Aegon just desperately trying to stifle his laugh.

An extra stop at the pharmacy to get some band aids for you. You insisted on the Disney ones, cause they looked cool. At this point he was just straight up laughing at you.

His apartment was closer than yours and with your state you just needed a fucking shower and sleep. So he just took you to his apartment, and looking back he was really glad helaena lived down the street.

He carried you inside as your legs gave up and called Helaena to help you get ready. Normally the boy wouldn’t mind but even Aegon knows that a drunk person should be treated with care and not getting fucked by him in the shower. Which you totally didn’t do once or twice……..

When you were all cleaned up Helaena took her leave and you guys were alone again. “Alright Princess, you take the bed and I’ll sleep on the couch,” he couldn’t finish his sentence before you already started to huff. “What’s the matter?” “Don’t want to sleep alone Aeggy.” you said. “Want me to stay with you?” Aegon asked. He didn’t mind, of course he didn’t! He just wanted you to feel comfortable. “Mhm.” Cue the quick nodding from you.

So he held you in his arms till you woke up. Then he just laughed at you but did give you painkillers. Cause he ain’t that much of a bitch.

Modern!Aemond

He is the friend who said: “Do you need me to pick you up after the party is over?” And dumbass you said: “No don’t worry I won’t get that drunk.” You did you did get that drunk

But Aemond half believing you was in his comfortable clothes at his home 30 minutes away from you watching Gilmore Girls. (He just looks like he would enjoy it).

When suddenly his phone rang. “Hello with Aemond.” As soon as he said that fucking crying could be heard from the other line. “Aem I’m lost.” He could barely make out the words you said. “Y/N, baby where are you?” Frantically searching his car keys while also talking to you led to multiple things ending up on the floor. Nothing shattered but still a bloody mess. What he does for you is insane.

“If I knew that I wouldn’t be crying…” Okay she had a fair point. “Alright miss im so smart. Where was the party? At who’s place?” “At Starks place. You know the one dude.” “Yes . I’m familiar with him. I’ll come and search for you. Just try to find a recognisable place. Like a 7/11 or something like that? Aight love? Can you do that for me?” Aemond knew he shouldn’t be driving and talking on the phone but you were a different story’s. He loved you and he couldn’t bear the thought of you being alone, drunk and most possibly scared.

“I SEE A LIGHT! OMG ITS A CASINO.” Your shouting almost made him go deaf. Aemond blinked a few times before calmly replying. “Thanks love I think I know where you are.” Followed by a quick sigh of him getting the ear damage. “I’m going to bet my money.” You said and Aemond could just hear your smile through the phone. “No no missy, you are staying at the front of the building alright?” “Yes sir!”

Once he finally found you he noticed you were wearing one shoe. He made the connection that you had been killing you ankles walking on one heel this entire time. “You couldn’t take off the other heel?” He asked you with a small chuckle at your drunk antics. “Uhm no. I had to be fashionable.”

“Come on love. Your carriage awaits” he opened the door for you and smiles as you giggled at his choice of words.

The ride home was calm and nothing but silence. That was a lie!

You spent the entire ride telling him about everything you thought you saw. "Bettany kisses Jason,even though she was with James." You whispered, almost scared or being heard.

"OH no!" Aemond feigned surprise and put his hand dramatically to his head.

When you did finally come home he was sure to bath you very very gently. Not touching you in any way. (He is very polite and a gentleman)

You have had slept together on multiple occasions before. Maybe fucking maybe not. Who knows......

So it wasn't a problem for him to just put on his pyjama and get into bed next to you just holding you till you slept.

He was sure to remind you to listen to him more often

Modern!Daemon

Some background info. This can be interpreted as dilf daemon cause it is mentioned that Jace is his stepson.

So his stepson Jacaerys asked to throw a party in the mansion this Friday evening. Who was Daemon to refuse? Especially after he mentioned he would be inviting his childhood friend Y/N.

Oh if only Jace knew what is going on between his step-dad and best friend . Well maybe better if he didn't. ;)

So he quickly accepted the proposal but on one condition! Daemon was allowed to stay in the mansion at all times

He didn't really attend the party until he spotted you entering, an suddenly he was seemingly everywhere where you were.

It became kind of difficult to pretend nothing was going on between you and Jace's stepfather, but thank the gods for Alcohol!!

Jace would be drunk and had caught you guys making out, but instead of reacting right there and then he just left. Weird..

But somewhat later when you made yourself presentable again. he approached you. You were completely prepared for him to shout at you. Instead he goes like: "Bro, I think im hallucinating. I just saw you and Daemon's hallucination make out."

"Yeah, weird......"

You could've left like any sane person would do, but luckily for us you aren't. You went straight to the alcohol, doing shots and sipping combinations i would not recommend.

Daemon had been in the shadows after getting caught. Like Rhaenyra knows about it, hell Daemon knows about Harwin. But they were like, we love each other but also others.

Jace however wasn't aware yet.

So when he saw you drinking that awfully mixed abomination. Like he didn't stop you, but he also didn't cheer it on.

The party went on for a while and after about an hour (don't factcheck me on this one) the drink really hit you like a train.

My god, you were challenging everyone to literally everything. You had lost your coat and were just walking around with a tank top and shorts in the evening while its Winter!!

So Daemom came to the rescue. Grabbing your coat and pulling you away from the mass, he checked if you had any injuries.

"I'm taking you home, you cant go home yourself in this state."

"State? We're not in the United States?" "Oh dear."

He informed a half passed out Jace that he was taking you home and Daemon thinks he half got the message

While driving you home you were like Grogu in that one scene. Touch everything!!

"No love, you just locked the doors. No thats the radio. What do you mean with: Why do i not have a turbo?"

Daemon could feel grey hairs coming.

Once at your flat he used the emergency key and led you inside.

"Wow, who lives here?" Daemon thought you were kidding when you said that.

"Stay put! I do not want you moving off this couch, im going to grab you some stuff so do not make this any more difficult than it needs to be"

You saluted him. "YES SIR YES."

He knew where you kept your tea, heating pad and Ibuprofen.

He ended spending the night there to watch over you. Mama bear Daemon at its finest.

Modern!Jace

Daemon is a caring type after things go south, Jace is a Mom friend all the time.

When you told Jace about the party he gave the usual lecture. “Call me when you arrive and leave. Don’t forget to drink water and don’t die.”

Normally Jace would’ve joined you but he unfortunately had to do a project with Cregan.

So off you went, feeling amazing and fabulous in your new outfit.

It wasn’t that far away from your guy’s apartment, you have been sharing it since a year now.

So you went walking, that would’ve been a big problem later. Especially for Jace.

When you arrived everything was fine, nice music, good vibes and good drinks.

After getting a few light drinks you started to up the game. Doing a few shots. As you took a whiskey shot you could feel it burning.

Listen normally you would be responsible and stop drinking all these stuff at the same time, but yeah……. Not this time.

Mix after mix after different drinks.

As expected you ran to the toilet and there it came. The aftermath of your actions. Well not even the aftermath just consequences

Aegon being a slightly good friend called Jace. Did it come out coherent? NO. But it’s the thought that matters.💕

“Y/N? Oh wait Aegon. Why are you calling from Y/N’s phone. Did she die?!” Jace was already putting on his shoes while talking on the phone.

“Threwssdd upps”

How the fuck was Jace suppose to decipher that gibberish?

“Are you at the main dorm?” “Yes.”

“Alright I’m coming, just don’t let die”

Our homeboy Jace was speed walking until he heard the music

As he entered the house he could see you, with Aegon. He was trying his best to hold your hair out of your way. He did a decent job at it.

“Thanks Aegon, I’ll handle her further.”

“Alright pretty lady, let’s get your hair out of your face first.” Jace pulled out his emergency hair tie he always had on him and tied your hair in a ponytail.

He hoisted you up and let you lean on him while walking. This time he decided that the walk through the park would be better since it had more lights so you could see where you were going.

You immediately got interested by the violets that were growing there. “Oh my god! So pretty they also smell,” And you threw up again. “Nice.” You finished your sentence.

“Let’s just get you home safely and get you to get it all out of your system love.”

After what felt like the longest fucking walk in history you finally made it home. Jace dropped you off at the bathroom, so he could grab some supplies.

He grabbed water, water and more water. :D

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cyberrose2001 · 1 year

Note

Omg, omg, I just found your blog and you write tf +f! Reader fics!!! Ahhhhh. I was wondering if I could request a 21+ fic where reader disobeys prime when he told her to stay. Their feelings are unknown to each other. when she left, though, it caused issues something that prime did not like.

I also write tf +f!reader but mine are more dedicated to Prime than anything.

TFP Optimus x human!fem!reader

oh lawd i think i got carried away with this *stares at 6 page word document*.... wanted this to be also hot and fluffy asf, with a sprinkle of angst for flavour. I hope this is satisfactory! 💕

Synopsis: Optimus Prime refuses to let you join him on missions, but eventually reveals why. He makes it for it, however, starting with you on top of him.

Warnings: Smut, ?soft dom optimus, first time sex, slight angst.

Word Count: 3189

It was mid afternoon when the com link went off. The bots were lounging around, either playing games with their human charges, playing lob ball or tinkering with equipment. Optimus Prime had been doing some research on the base computer and furrowed his optic ridges when he answers the com link to a very loud Agent Fowler, as usual.

“Prime! You better not be busy; I’ve got intel on some cons who have hijacked a nearby military base.” Fowler yells, “You better get onto it, I’ll meet you at these coordinates.”

“Understood, Agent Fowler.” Optimus nods his helm, then turns to the rest of the team who had gathered around him in the meantime, “Decepticons have invaded a military base 30 kliks from here, we must investigate and determine why.”

The bots spring into action, transforming into their alt modes while Ratchet opens a ground bridge to the coordinates Agent Fowler provided. Bulkhead, Bumblebee and Arcee race through the bridge. You removed yourself from the couch and ran up to Optimus just before he was about to transform.

“Hey! Can I come this time?” You begged. The last time you asked him to accompany him on a mission he declined but promised you that he would take you on the next mission. Your hopes were crushed, however, when he gave you a solemn look.

“(Y/n), I am afraid that this mission is far too dangerous for you. You are to remain here with the other humans. Next time I- “

You roll your eyes and stomp your foot onto the ground, taking Optimus by surprise, “You said that last time, Optimus! How come Jack, Miko and Raf get to go on cool missions all the time while I’m stuck here with… Ratchet!”

“I do not wish to put you in danger, you must understand this.” Optimus says, lowering his towering frame down to your level, “And you misunderstand, the others are not coming as well.”

“I know, but what about when you entrusted Jack with the Key to Vector Sigma and let him go to Cybertron of all places?” You questioned, knuckles turning white from your grip on the guard rail, “That’s pretty endangering to a human if you ask me!”

Optimus’s optics narrowed onto yours, standing up tall again, “We will talk on my return, you will stay here. Understand?”

You groan and push yourself away from the rail as you watch your guardian transform and drive through the ground bridge. You turn around, only to be met with wide eyes from Jack, Miko and Raf.

“What? You guys gonna boss me around too?” You huff, turning your heels around to head down the catwalk, your footsteps echoing across the now empty base. Jack shakes his head and attempts to go after you.

“(Y/n), come on, where are you going?” Jack calls out to you.

“Away from here,” You answer, not bothering to turn around. You didn’t want the kids to see the small tears that threatened to spill, “Maybe Optimus will appreciate me more when I’m gone.”

The kids watch helplessly as you exit the base, exchanging worried glances to each other.

Optimus was no liar. He had no intentions of making you feel useless or underappreciated, but he had a duty of care, to protect you and keep you from harms way. While he did promise you that he would take you along with him on his next mission, he could not bare the thought of the Decepticons hurting you, so he put it off every time you would ask him. He often wondered why he was fine with the other humans going on missions with their guardians, but when it came to you, he had a different opinion.

It took him a while to realise that his feelings were something more than that of a guardian relationship. He had developed a love for this human that transcended the boundaries of human and Cybertronian relations, and it troubled him.

But he must not get distracted, not in front of his team. He swung his sword and slashed a Vehicon into two, watching it drop to the ground. He disengaged his sword, and it transformed back into his normal servo and then approached the other members of team prime, who just finished offlining the last of the cons.

“Where’s the fire, Optimus?” Arcee asked. She had witnessed Optimus almost get taken down by the Vehicon’s multiple times, and the look on his face told her that his processor was not in this fight, “You struggled a bit back there.”

“Yeah, you haven’t been yourself lately.” Bulkhead also questioned his behaviour, Bumblebee beeps in agreement.

Optimus turns his helm away from them and closes his optics, “I appreciate your concerns, but I am fine.”

Arcee, Bulkhead and Bumblebee turn to look at each other. They weren’t entirely convinced at his deflecting of their questions, but all silently agreed to not meddle in his personal affairs. Optimus coms Ratchet for a ground bridge back to base, deciding that he needs to tell you what’s been lingering on his processor, for the sake of the team.

Optimus, Arcee, Bulkhead and Bumblebee walk into the base, the ground bridge dissipating from behind them. Optimus scans the base for your presence, but only finds the kids sitting on the couch in silence watching a tv show. He walks over to them.

“Have you seen (Y/n)?” Optimus questions. The kids turn to look at him, Jack is the one to speak up.

“She left, Optimus. I’m not sure where,” Jack gives Optimus a shrug, “She never told us, all we know is that she’s not in the base anymore.”

Optimus optics harden upon the discovery that you had disobeyed his orders to stay at the base, especially when there has been recent Decepticon activity close by. He thought that he would just have a nice conversation about why he cares so much about you, why he wouldn’t let you accompany him on missions. But now, he is going to have a stern talk to you. He thanks Jack and turns back around to head out of the base, ignoring the glances from the other team members. He knows you like the back of his servo; he knows exactly where to look for you.

Out on a cliff in the desert, about an hour walk from the base, sat you. You were absentmindedly picking up small rocks from your side and throwing them down, watching them bounce and crack of the face of the cliff. You often came here when you were deep in your thoughts, usually with Optimus. It provided a beautiful landscape of the Nevada desert and a perfectly secluded spot with no cell phone signal or contact with any other people. But it felt like nothing without him.

It angered you, it really did, how Optimus treats you like a piece of fine china. You were very capable of handling yourself, but it seems like he doesn’t realise that. It was unfair how often you would see the other bots take their human charges out on missions and having fun, it made you jealous, and sometimes you secretly wished you had a different guardian. But the more you lingered on that thought, the more you hated it, not having Optimus as a guardian.

It was no secret to yourself that you had developed feelings for him. He was strong, brave and the gentlest mech you had ever met all in one giant package. He made your heart flutter; he made you feel like a teenager again. But you wished that he would spend more time with you and let himself go and have more fun, maybe that’s why you were so desperate for him to take you on missions. You just miss him all the time.

You sigh, pulling your knees up to your chest after you threw the last rock you could reach down the cliff. You rest your head on your knees as you start to witness the early stages of the sun setting. Beautiful, you thought.

Ears twitching, you pick up the sound of pedes walking behind you, and you freeze, knowing that Optimus was not going to be impressed with you leaving the base. You heard the mechanical sound of him kneeling behind you and you wait for him to make the first move.

“You should not be out here without me,” Optimus says sternly, “Did I not tell you to remain in the base?”

“Yes, you did.” You answer, still staring out to the horizon, “I heard you loud and clear.”

Optimus is slightly taken aback by your bluntness, but continues, “Yet you disobey me, (Y/n).”

“OK, so what am I supposed to do, Optimus? Wait around for you to come back from missions only to wait for you to leave again?!” You stand up and face him, a small tear finally escaping you and rolls down your dusty cheek, “Is that it? Do you even care about how I feel?”

Optimus’s optics soften as he sees your tears. It was not his intention to make you feel this way, and now that he is witnessing your true emotions right in front of him, it’s making his spark break. But he stays silent.

You stand there, hands balled into fists, “Are gonna answer me? Do you even care abou- “

You are cut off short as the Prime leans down to plant a kiss on your lips, your eyes are blown wide open. He pulls away, reaching a servo down to brush your tears away with a cold digit. To say you were shocked was an understatement. He just kissed you, you thought he hated you for running off, but now you were just confused.

“It may be true that I have become… overprotective of you.” Optimus says, gritting his dentas, “But it is purely because I would never forgive myself if I let you get hurt.”

You stare up at him, eyes searching his optics for the meaning behind his words.

“I protect you because…” Optimus pauses, hesitating for a moment, softly rubbing your cheek, “I love you.”

You felt like your heart was going to jump out of your chest. You had no idea that Optimus Prime was overly protective with you because he loved you, it made so much more sense now.

Optimus looks at your blank face, now worried that he has taken it too far, “I apologise if my confession comes off as abrupt. And I apologise if you do not return my affections.”

“No! No, Optimus. It’s ok.” You place your hands on his face plates to ease his worries, “I love you too.”

He smiles at your own confession and at the warmth of your palms, leaning into them and closing his optics, “I have a lot to apologise for, (Y/n). But allow me to… make it up to you. If you are content with me doing so.”

The way that your heat pooled at your lower stomach was embarrassingly quick, but you nod, pulling him into another deep kiss. Optimus smiled into it, opening his dermas slightly so he can start to explore your mouth. It felt very strange, kissing a twenty-foot tall Cybertronian. But the taste of his glossa rolling around your own tongue was intoxicating. Optimus had moved from his kneeling position to sit flat against a rock behind him, picking you up to hold you in his servos and not once removing himself from the kiss. Eventually, you needed air, and you pull away from the heated kiss, softly panting. Optimus smiles at your dishevelled state, gently kissing your cheek.

“You are so heavenly,” He plants small kisses down from your cheek to your neck, licking and tasting, relishing the soft moans that began to come from you. He plants a single kiss to the centre of your chest, “Waited so long for this…”

You breathe out a sigh as he brings a digit up to lift your shirt from the bottom hem, a silent request to remove it. You obliged and pulled it off, throwing it down to the ground. He can feel his spark humming louder when you also took the initiative to remove your pants and underwear. A jolt goes straight to his spike, now throbbing painfully against his interfacing panel. He proceeds with his worshipping, however, kissing both tops of your breasts threatening to spill out of the bra. Your soft moans sound wonderful to his audial receptors.

He works his kisses down your stomach, he feels the small goosebumps against his dermas and the way your hair stands on ends as he does so. Humans are so interesting and complex, he thinks. He stops just below your belly button, looking up at you one last time to gain permission. You nod, hardly containing your eagerness.

He allows you to lay down flat on his palm, his servo feeling cold against your back. You shyly open your legs for him so he can witness your arousal, blushing profusely. He hums in approval, soaking in the sight of you, raw and untamed in front of him. Only for his optics to bare. He brings your body closer to his dermas and places a gentle yet firm kiss to your folds, then experimentally sticks his glossa out and licks right up your centre. He notices your moans as he does so, cataloguing which areas bring out more of your delicious sounds in his processor. Optimus circles the tip of his glossa around your clit, which he realised straight away that this is the most sensitive part of you. He continues this for a few moments, drawing out sweet moans from you.

“Optimus… ughn…fuck,” You whimper out his name, oh how he desperately wants you to finish on his glossa, adoring the way you call out his name. But he can’t let you finish yet. He licks another stripe up your pussy, then dips his glossa into your warmth, teasing your insides.

Optimus’s thoughts are occupied with how you taste, so sweet and soft, more delicate and a stronger taste than that of a Cybertronian valve. His newfound taste for you has his spark yearning for more.

You feel the same way, his glossa is so much larger and warmer than a regular tongue and feels like tiny sparks of static on your skin. The sensations are bringing you closer to your orgasm than you thought, and you gently push him away with a foot in order to prevent it from happening too early. Optimus obliges and draws his intake away from your now soaking wet pussy. The sight of your juices covering his dermas is something that you only thought you could dream of, you take a mental screenshot for later purposes.

Optimus is not sure how much longer he can hold himself back, his spike is aching to be released. He needs to frag you; he needs to feel those velvety walls squeeze around him instead of his glossa. He brings you closer and gives you another kiss, nipping at your lip gently.

He lowers you gently and places you, so you are straddling his hips. You feel something shift behind you and press against your back, your eyes widen as you realise just how big the Prime is. Optimus senses your uneasiness, he can understand why.

“If it would please you, I can mass-displace it so it will be easier, (Y/n).” Optimus offers, servos softly fondling the flesh of your thighs, “I understand if this is too intimidating for you.”

You shake your head and bit your lip, “No, Optimus, I’m not intimidated at all… I want you to feel good too, but if you mass displace it, will it less pleasurable for you?”

Optimus laughs softly, a rare treat for you, “It is actually more sensitive, due to the surface area being reduced, the nerves are more… compact. It is difficult to explain this right now, your wonderful thighs are quite distracting.”

“Go for it then, Prime.” You smile, slowly grinding your ass along his length. Optimus vents hitch as you do so, he then mass-displaces his spike. It is still quite large compared to you, but you were positive you could take it now.

He helps you position yourself over top his throbbing spike, slowly pressing your thighs down as you softly whimper, feeling you stretch wonderfully over his thickness. He emits a low groan as you bottom out, spike twitching inside you. Any previous imaginings of what you would feel like impaled on his spike was snuffed out, the real you exceeded his expectations.

“Holy fuck…” You moan out, hands gripping the metal of his abdomen. Optimus gently rubs a servo up and down your back, letting you adjust to his size. After a moment, you give him a nod and you slowly lift yourself up, only to slam yourself back onto him.

Optimus lets out a guttural moan, he places the servo that was roaming your back onto your hip, guiding you up and down, “Primus… you are… hggn… excellent at this.”

You let out a chuckle in between your moans, “Us humans have had… a lot of practise.”

Optimus’s optics roll to the back of his helm when he felt your hips begin to move in circles, the sensations this little human was giving him was driving him crazy. Your moans and whimpers, the sounds of soft skin slapping against his hard metal are like an anthem to his audio receptors. He grips your hips firm and begins to thrust up into you. He was so close to his release.

“Optimus! Please… make me yours forever.” You moan out as your orgasm hits you, throwing your head back, arms move to rest behind you on his thighs as your hips quiver and shake at his continuing thrusts, “Oh my god…”

“(Y/n) …” Optimus groans your name, pushing one last thrust into you before he overloads. The sight of you completely lost in your pleasure is what made him reach his limit. His spike throbs intensely inside of you, filling you up with his transfluids. His hips shutter as you help him ride out his overload, venting heavily, “Frag…”

You both stayed still for a while, catching up with your breaths. After you collected yourself, you lean down and press a kiss to his abdominal plating, cherishing the soft sigh that leaves Optimus’s intake. He smiles at your affection, brushing a digit across your cheek.

“Was that… a satisfactory apology?” Optimus hums, still venting slightly, optics closed. You smile up at him and nod, pressing a kiss to the tip of his digit.

“Mhmm,” You sigh, “Optimus, I’m sorry that I argued with you… I just… miss you a lot when you’re gone.”

Optimus opens his optics and looks down at you, he brushes a strand of loose hair behind your ear, “I promise that I will never ever make you feel alone again.”

You smiled, leaning into his servo. Why bother going on missions with Optimus, when all you really needed was this.

#transformers #transformers prime #tfp #tfp optimus x reader #tfp optimus x human reader #valveplug

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