#reader is a shithead
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Lust by Nature {Part 3}
Masterlist, Part 1, Part 2, Part 4
Read on ao3
Pairing: Captain John Price x fem!Reader
MDNI: 18+!
Warnings for this chapter: sex dream that verges somno, blood and injury
Word Count: ~7k
Summary: His lap is your favorite spot in the world, a sneaky little energy grab while dream-walking, and oh no! some blood :(
A/N: Chapter 3! I had so much planned for this, then wrote more and more so the original ch. 3 is now into two parts, meaning another chapter gets added to this. I hope ye enjoy
Price wasn’t caring for you. That much was certain.
Correction: Price wasn’t caring for your needs.
Three months.
Three months and still no sex. You expect he’s doing his best to fill his thick head with pure thought to ward off any boners.
He allowed small touches for technical purposes which gave a small boost of energy to you, but only barely. The previous feast on a mission in a drug ring fed you well enough, having been left with bodies barely alive before giving them the sickly sweet send-off to death while letting them taste the carnal sin you could procure.
John’s belief held you as being able to feed from the other men who desired you. Everywhere you went you could make a man or woman (a rare few on base at this time) hard and wet with desire. You trained with other soldiers, killed on missions, and while it helped and kept your energy up, it wasn’t enough. Sure, you took plenty enough of lives when the boys had so graciously left a straggler or two for you as they bled out, but the whittled-away energy of a man with bullets in him made the meal a bit dull.
Sometimes the question of Price being an angel himself would weigh in your mind, the hallucination of a golden halo crowning him in the darkness behind your eyelids as you watched him speak or bark orders while standing in the sunlight.
You remember that he certainly can’t be. He kills and kills again, the wolf himself still has a handler no matter how much he barks- never biting until directed. For the most part.
Price is cruel with the allotted sweetness he supplied. It's been driving you up a wall, a reluctantly familiar itch crawling in your chest. He’d pet your hair when deeming a job well done, sometimes even wrangling you by the horns when needing to re-direct your attention. Softer moments started to build up the more you learned and were able to help him complete his tasks, being sure to reserve time for only you and him during the day.
Yet he still wouldn’t fuck you. He wouldn’t use you, not even letting it get to that point.
And truthfully, it doesn’t matter. You could enchant anyone you wanted into getting your way, but already feeling and smelling the arousal these bone-dry soldiers felt for you. But you couldn’t do it.
Something inside your heart, filled with magic and sin, kept your sights on Price only. Long days had you passing by recruits with such ease of temptation just to take them into the locker room and let them relieve stress. Yet the moment you saw Price, you could feel your pupils turning into hearts. Theoretically.
Your military contract asserted your role into the new CO’s life, expecting easy sex and some sort of flippant attitude that would be a double positive. Meeting the man who does more than just take his commands to regurgitate them out onto his subordinates, Price showed resilience, respect, and a leading figure of someone who lived beyond each sacrifice he gave.
Sue you for having issues relating to the figures high in power and holding authority over you, but the stability he had to offer was the pillar the team used day in and day out. In terms of being the newest addition in an environment that offered more humanity than your past facility, your claws clung to him on the chance that he’d be attentive with guidance and any reprimands that are followed with assured praise.
It only made you burn for him more.
The feeling of his gloved hands tight on your sides while practicing stealth drills, walking as if glued to your back to teach you his gait. Hearing his voice first thing in the morning before he’s even spoken to anyone else, it croaks pleasing your ears to send a shiver down your legs. When you waited in the locker room on purpose just to catch sight of his pink skin that highlighted the various sized and placed scars over his body. The smell of his cologne when he brought you to the bar with the boys after a job well done.
That first taste you had of him, during the kiss two weeks in. Like a spiced honey, you wanted to drip all over your body and let it soak its way inside of you.
This man makes your demon quiver like she’s a holy saint sinning for the first time.
The days filled with paperwork, and not your Captain, made everything blur together enough to make your eyes tired, you’d whine over it being a task you never had to do before. It was frustrating for you and the team, making them feel like they were preschool teachers.
On the rare occasions that training would end early, Price would utilize this to spend time in the dimmed yellow light of his office as you sit next to him.
Papers were strewn over your small work area while he kept them in neat piles. The sound of your keyboards clacking fills the silence before the shuffling of papers interrupts, small hums from either of you when checking details and recording operations management.
The room fills with a lingering haze as his cigar burns slowly, settled in the ashtray while typing, and back to his lips when reading over his work. Finishing a large chunk of interpreting and typing the reconnaissance intel, you lean back to watch as the cherry lights up when he inhales. His eyes are somewhat blurred by the glasses he wears, reflecting the screen while his body bathes in the warm light.
“You need sumthin’?” He grumbles from around the cigar, looking at you once he pops it out of his mouth.
“Why do you smoke cigars instead of cigarettes sometimes?” There’s no stutter in your question as he calls you out.
“Makes me feel like ‘m not in a rush. No need to worry of the end when there's plenty to it.” He brings it back up, taking a drag while watching you watch him. After a moment, he sits up and leans towards your place; Adjacent to him on the end of his desk while he sits on your right in his office chair.
“You ever try one?”
The bridge of your nose crinkles, a faint memory playing behind your eyes. “No. The general would always be smoking one when I was brought in, didn’t like the smell.”
Price’s eyes widen for a second, quickly moving the cigar away and clearing his throat. “You could’ve said something, wouldn’t been smoking in ‘ere if I knew that.” He gently snubs the cherry but the grasp of your hand on his wrist halts him.
“It’s fine, it smells different. I like this one.” A reassuring smile plays on the edge of your lips, waving him off with no fuss. The sound of your voice is warmer than the buzz the first hit gives him after a long day, and you both can tell that his body likes it when you speak like that. Reserved for him. Hopefully him alone.
His hand pauses, holding it still as his eyebrow quirks. “Whats it smell like to you?”
It takes a second to think over. He usually tends to stick to something earthy in flavoring, having only changed up the scent on special occasions. You can remember the first one being sweet when you came to this base, and on his hard days were ones that reeked of wood tones.
“Like you.” A shrug accompanies your answer, looking up to meet his gaze that now stills while his breath fans over your hand that keeps on his wrist.
“Would you want to try it?” He offers the half-smoked cigar to you, gently balancing it between his fingers.
Sliding your hand up his wrist to take the cigar between your fingers only to watch him as it meets your lips. The feeling is heavy and a bit confusing. While cigarettes you could easily hold in your lungs if not do a quick trick, this was less familiar.
Sucking in, you quickly choke. Shaking your head as you hand the damn trap back to him, his light chuckle sounds out. “You’re not s’possed to swallow it, sweetheart.” His eyes take in steady heed of infatuation at your failed attempt, and the curly of his lips shows a genuine smile.
“But I always swallow, sir.”
You can never keep your mouth shut, can you? He pauses, mouth parting before clicking shut and narrowing his eyes. He looks away as the muscles of his mouth flex.
Trying not to laugh.
“I wonder if it's the lads getting to you, or just how you are.” Finally, he gives his attention back to you for a moment, watching as you clean up your work area. It's your turn to feel his stare at you. The sweeping of attention your body can feel prickling and preening at, loving his focus as it sweeps across your form. “And stop calling me sir.”
“I see it as a form of respect, Captain.” Your work area matches his now in two neat piles of papers before shifting back to your laptop. Readjusting the chair to scoot a bit closer to both him and the desk. When shifting your hips, there's a slight flash of something on your skin. Too fine to be a scar- far too intricate and detailed.
Out of nowhere, he tosses a pen to the other side of the desk on your left.
“You mind picking that up for me, doll?” If he’d thrown a rabid dog and asked in that voice, you’d surely say yes.
The questioning glare he receives doesn’t escape him, but you comply nonetheless. Now bent over, the hem of your shirt rides up to reveal the flesh of your side. A tattoo reveals itself.
Not just any tattoo. A succubus tattoo that’s erotic in the placement and in nature. The design is tribal to your being; a heart that seemingly has wings of sharp lines that curve on the bottom of your stomach- Your womb.
As soon as your hands grasp the pen from the floor, you startle at the touch of his hand on your stomach. “What-”
“This a tattoo?” His fingertips trace over the slightly exposed skin, taking a dive in and commanding the shirt to move from his touch as he brings his fingers under it.
Still slightly caught off guard, but the touch is so gratifying, that you almost purr in response. “‘S a succubus sigil. Mine specifically.” Leaning back and drawing your shirt up like a puppy asking for belly rubs, showing the expanse of it as it reaches from hip to hip.
“Did this come with your powers?” He asks after meeting your gaze, still not moving his hand away but tracing it with firm pressure as if to see it peel off or be raised.
“Mmm.” You nod, trying to contain the moan behind a tight-lipped hum. “Would come up on my mate too.”
The movement on your stomach stops just as you are a second away from moving your hips closer to plead for more. “Mate?” He stills, hand stopping and regrettably pulling back as he sits to look at you. “Whadya’ mean mate?”
Oh, that's right. You never told him. But there was a section in the contract! Your subconscious screams at you, and now irked at the daft man for not reading through a man-made document that was formative on a demon.
He stifles a cough when he looks back to you; The shirt still being raised to expose the soft and delicate-looking skin of your stomach meets him, legs spread, and head tilted down with a glare through your lashes. You’re pouting.
“Price…” You start, voice low with a bass in it while still having feminine notes. It sounds like the call of the wind when he’s posted in the mountains for a stakeout and brings a shiver to the inside of his ears.
“Why’re you looking at me like that, Saint.” The expression he gives is more of trepidation than shock. Face still seemingly neutral, but his eyes are widened slightly to scan over all parts of your being in case you take any unexpected moves.
“You didn’t read my contract.” The ethereal-sounding voice teases his ears again. He’s ashamed that he can feel his dick twitch in interest at this sudden flip of your attitude, now having to resist the urge to cross his legs to hide the blood filling it. You drop your shirt down, and a coy smile floats up to your lips. “Did you, sir?”
“I still have a few pages left.” He chuffs while looking away to distract himself and his mouth with the cigar. “You gonna explain?” He tries to shift the power of this conversation back to him as he asks in nonchalance, spreading his legs to seem comfortable.
“Being a succubi’s mate brings something shallow but deeper than what normal humans could give. Our mate is a safe heaven; Someone who loves us for what we are while understanding we’re more than what we’re created to be.” Like a tether, you shift forward to lean on the desk slowly standing before taking a small step to be between the desk and himself. “The mate understands that we have needs that keep us alive, while we understand that the humans rely on a relationship beyond physical cravings.”
Seating yourself on the edge of his desk, standing between his legs, the blue of his eyes sharply contrasts your red ones. “We sacrifice our innate, greedy and sinning hunger to fall in love.”
Tension sits in his eyebrow line, jaw, and in the air between you. “That so?”
“Very, much so.” Cheekily smiling back at him as you’ve firmly planted the idea in his head, the hem of your shirt rises to let the tattoo peak back out. “And, I think you’d look like a king with this on your body.” Sure, it's a slight jab to this whole situation between you, but maybe he was interested in having a sort of territorial design on his person.
“Now, can we get back to you petting me?”
“Petting?” He chortles as if to ease whatever tense emotion settled over his mind, a kind that had alarm bells ringing in his head. “You’re not a dog, Saint. I was jus’ looking at your mark.” He breaks eye contact to look at his monitors, waking them up with a wave of the mouse. “You’re more like a cat, anyways.” He adds with a mumble.
“Well, I’ve got a pretty kitty for you to pet.” The giggle that leaves your lips would be downright creepy if not for the sweet ringing it leaves in his ear. Even thinking about what you exactly meant, his dick twitches again, and this time with more blood flowing down at the image of your lips between your legs.
His hand comes up to take his glasses off as he discards the cigar in the ashtray, and then a stifled groan leaves his lips. “Cut the shit, Saint.” His elbows placed on the table make his back arch, and you can see his muscles traverse in waves over his shoulder blades. “You need to finish your report.”
“Just for a little bit?” While he’s distracted, you move closer to stand between his legs while trailing fingers over the sigil. “I’ll scratch your back.”
Price’s head snaps to the side, finding you much closer than he expected yet still not recoiling in surprise. Just narrowing his eyes. The motion of your tail swaying playfully behind you gains an advantage; You’re playful in all of this, all the while a beautiful woman creature that has a face worthy of melting hearts and a body that could melt dicks and cunts alike, there is a sort of black cat-like quality to you. Hunting for prey either in the shadows or wanting to toy with it.
An even steeper spike of arousal catches your nose, wanting nothing more for him to be as easy as Soap is on a bad day. You’ve never taken up the opportunity, but you still think about it.
Pursing his lips together, a sigh escapes him while rubbing his hands over his face. “If this gets you to shut up and finish your work, fine.” He leans back in his chair, re-situating himself before you move to straddle his lap. “Only for a little bit.”
To your surprise, a sound of content leaves him as you settle, and feel his large arms come to wrap around your waist. “You’re a furnace- are you sick?” The inside of his wrist comes up to check your forehead for a fever, finding it warm.
“I just run that way. Something with my magic.” Humming, and nuzzling into his neck, the huff of you breathing him in makes his skin prickle. His hand returns to your waist.
A moment of silence passes, breathing with each other with only the steady hum of his computer filtering into the background noise. “You gonna scratch my back or not, sweetheart?” You can feel the rumble of his words end with a chuckle against your chest and in the muscles of your throat.
At the queue, your hands slide down beneath his shirt to start sliding the tips of your nails across his skin. A small sound of surprise leaves him as you pull up his shirt but quickly cuts off by a groan as he slumps against you.
“Fuck- Haven’t felt that in a long time.” The pull of a smile on his lips against your neck as he leans into the crook of it. His body shakes in a full tremor and his hands squeeze tighter; A hiss is pulled out of him as you reach the top of his shoulders and bring your nails down in long, cruelly slow, strokes. “Feels so wonderful, angel.”
While the petname is ironic, it still did something to you. Being so close to him, the smell of his steadying arousal was getting you almost high. Repeating the motion, you relaxed a bit more onto his lap to settle your weight to settle yourself over his hardening cock.
“Glad you like it.”
Leading him into your warm embrace, the chills shivering up his spine misplace his senses as your added weight and plush ass on his lap doesn’t register until the first slow roll manifests a throaty growl from him.
One hand holds you still with an unrelenting squeeze of your hip as the other shoots up to grab at your tail. A sharp gasp sounds before your back arches, nails digging into his back while you can’t help but look to the ceiling with bowed eyes.
“Behave, Saint.” He husks from above you, the height difference still even allowing him to see your face as you sit in his lap. “I’m gonna kick you out of this damn office if you’re going to act like this.”
“Please, Price.” The tips of your fangs drop a bit lower at the ache to kiss him and drag them along his skin, your pussy already beginning to soak your underwear.
While you’d normally be in control of the entire situation when having sex, Price was different. When a succubus was able to crave someone and hold a significant want and lust, they became the pleasure sought after. You craved Price like no other because there was no other. You behaved just enough to know that if he didn’t actively want it, you’d be broken. Body, mind, and soul.
A click of your teeth has him watching as you attempt to bite at his face before fighting against his hold to grind down again. He pulls your tail tighter.
“I’m hungry.” A smile taints your lips this time, unable to hide the humor in how hard he fights against giving in while his dick is now rock-hard underneath you. “We both know how much you’d enjoy it.”
His eyes narrowed, chuffing as his jaw clenched in anger, at himself or you- probably both. Grinning like the devil you are, you take his lapse in concentration to bounce softly on his clothes lap.
“Fuckin’ hell.” He groans, and you whimper. Just dry humping and imagining him pumping inside of you, the pull of the seam against your clit, both make your folds plump with sensitivity.
Another bounce, ending with a roll that strokes his cock.
“It’s my lap or nothing. I’m not helping you get off.” His resolve cracks, releasing your tail down to knead your ass, fingertips digging in harshly.
Needing no further instruction, you set the pace in slow rolls that drag across his lap. Bringing out soft grunts, it revels inside of you as your walls flutter around emptiness.
When the grinding isn't enough, you settle for bouncing again; Relying on the rough material of your pants to pull at your panties and clit. His eyes dart up from your hips, caught watching how erotic you move, yet he’s not afraid to smirk as you cup his jaw, bringing his lips close.
“Kiss me.”
“No, sweetheart.”
Groaning from the denial, you keep moving. There’s still a chance for you to win him over, how trained can a man be when he’s got a beautiful creature spurring him on?
“It’s not like we haven’t kissed before.”
“I already said no. You ain’t gonna shake me.”
Your lips draw up in a sneer that coats your face at being told no, something that has never happened before.
“Did you not get what you wanted, sweet girl?” His hand moves from your neck to stroke hair away from your face, but still leaves the other on your ass to touch as you keep moving.
“You’re a prick”
The growl that leaves you is quiet. It would startle any human, but Price knows you. He only hums in response, moving to grab the cigar before inhaling and leaning back into the chair.
What a cocky bastard.
“Don’t be a brat. You knew I let you sit here not for that reason.” The hand on your ass leaves a sharp sting once it spanks you, the sound echoing in the quiet room. His reprimanding spank sends a shiver down your body and to your wet cunt, feeling a mini-tremor in it.
“This is my favorite spot, don’t you know?”
“This spot’ not on the map, Saint.”
“Being in your lap would be my world. Just gotta let me have it.” Angels above you are such a fucking tease.
When you left his office, you at least felt good about the wet spot on his lap.
~~~
On nights before a mission, you’d consider slithering your consciousness to Price, debating on dream walking to bring him dreams filled with you, filled of him. The promiscuity of diving into his dreams and allowing him to ruin you in a haze cradled your consciousness in a steady fire.
Tomorrow, you’ll be out for a long excursion with the team in the woodlands of Australia. You’ve been there before, remembering being fresh into your transformation and visiting a plethora of military bases. At the time, you were being shown off at Pine Gap like a traveling circus, bored from the land being too obnoxious for any fun- because of course, you had tried to fight a kangaroo when your handlers weren’t looking.
Dreamwalking was something you’d engaged with rarely, as the humans in the compound didn’t sleep there. You’d practice putting them in a trance and had gained enough experience in succeeding when they left your cell block rotation as a heavy flush coated their face.
Price was designated to keep you in the barracks room by his, at the end of the hallway where his only neighboring room was yours. The team that created a military position for a succubus knew what needed to happen, and they were not afraid to set parameters and expectations that Price had to follow before your arrival.
Tonight, as your body finds its tether to his mind, you're ready to cloud and confuse his logic with pleasure. A cloudy and warm rush to his senses makes Price’s body stir when the sudden feeling of you lying atop him settles on his muscles and mind. With a slow grinding roll of your hips, your fangs sneak out just a bit more to leave a light mark under his jaw as your hands knead at his firm chest. He can see you, feel you naked with him under the covers of his bed. Your soft but firm legs straddle his waist as a hand rakes through his hair to give a tug causing a soft hiss to leave him.
“How th’ fuck you get in ‘ere, love?” He manages to push out past his lips in a soft grumble, the rough calluses of his hands skimming down to the curve of your hips before squeezing the flesh of your ass.
And fuck, when the pet name slips out no doubt due to his drowsiness, it makes you clench on nothing while being in your own room a few yards away from his.
“You let me in, sir.” The answer comes back to him in a matched tone, working to slide your wetness over his growing arousal. “Hope that’s alright with you.”
Feeling the tip of him push against your clit and noting he’s already hard, your hand trails behind you to line him up with your fluttering hole. The grip on your ass tightens, his blunt fingernails dig in as he bucks in hazy anticipation. It's enough to catch the rim of your hole but slipping in the wrong direction.
Price, far too gone as your sense of lust clouds his mind, pushes your ear against his lips as he takes himself in hand and lines up with your entrance again. “Impatient thing, aren’t you?”
Not giving you enough time to answer, he pushes the tip in letting it settle before grabbing your hip while the other hand pulls your hair in a tight fist. “I’ll let you bloody ‘ave it.” He groans in your ear. You leave yourself amazed at how real it feels, seemingly forgotten of the unused power at the ready for your next meal.
A small hiccup leaves your lips as he slides in; Not too long but his girth made up for everything. It’s been so long, your inner demon laughing at you as if you were a virgin again but crying out in time with your pulses as you feel fed for the first time in months.
“Gods, so fucking hot-” Price drones on, sounding half asleep and drunk on lust by the way his speech slurs in soft whispers. “Hottest pussy I’ve ever had.” If you were in his bed you’d truly laugh at him speaking on your internal temperature.
“You’ve never had anything like me.” Moving to help the tired man, your hips go down to meet his ever-languid thrust up. His hand on your ass holds your lower back as his knees pick up once planting his ankles on the mattress.
“Ain't that right.” He retorts, a light scoff coming from him as he buries his head to find your neck to leave long, sloppy kisses against the soft skin. “Use my cock, baby, know you’ve been wantin’ it. Be a good girl an’ use it.”
With his permission and the subtle need to show him what he’s been missing out on, you take the lead. Planting your hands on his chest and sitting up, you bounce on his cock with steady vigor. Each clap of your skin hitting his sounds real. Enough to be more than just a dream. His grunts, shaky curses, and heavy breaths ring out in the space of his mind as he drives up to meet your soaked walls.
“Jus’ like tha- gonna make me come already. God, I’m gonna-” Snake down to lay your chest against his, bouncing your hips in quick movements.
“Inside. Keep it in.” His mind still fails to register that protection was nowhere near a consideration as his body runs hot. His hands grab control to pump himself up into you in rough and steady slams of one, two, three, before stilling and twitching inside of you.
The shiver that coils your spine in a curve is erotic; The way your mouth parts in a beautiful ‘o’ shape, tits pushed out for him to take in his mouth while your body shakes from the orgasm of being fed his spend. His breath pants over your pert nipples, biting them gently with a low groan before settling you over him. You wish you could stay more to hear his pillow talk but the more talking to happen and keep yourself there is a waste of time and energy.
“Goodnight, Price.”
~~~
Sunlight greeted Price when he awoke to his blaring alarm, grumbling while shooting a hand out to silence the forsaken thing. Usually an early riser and far too used to the normalcy of the early mornings, he felt like a cinderblock sinking to the bottom of the Boston River.
A right fucking tea party in his pants, that's for sure.
With every second his eyes are closed, he can feel the phantom movement of your hips on his which has him already twitching his morning wood at the memory. Price has had wet dreams before, plenty of times while a teenager or when he had a girl back home while serving as a Lieutenant. None of them had felt like this- like he was on a drug trip and feeling absolutely every movement and sense you rode out of him.
Letting a groan akin to a bear's roar echo in his room, his eyelids keep blinking to make the bleariness leave to welcome the light of day into his mind. And Price just… sits there for a moment.
Yes, he was asleep and didn’t have the control he would much rather prefer over you being in his bed, but by Satan himself that was just the last thing he needed.
There wasn’t much time for him to seek out physical attention or affection from others, constantly married to his job and watching his back for those looking at him. There had been a handful of women who were graced with hot nights, but he’d always be gone by the time they’d woken up. These women stemmed from the pubs far off town and closer to his home. Even a young recruit on a different unit had tried her luck but was instantly shot down without a thought to him.
He has a name and team to uphold, he wouldn’t earn himself a court martial just for an easy piece of ass. But now presented with your beautiful self while officials are giving him the green light, he has no idea what to do. You’re growing close to him already, something he tried to resist with all the boys on the team until they had bludgeoned their way to his heart by force.
He couldn’t let you do that.
To be used, having someone two steps ahead of him through reading his feelings and laying them out on a silver platter. It would be devastating to the way he functions, the way he holds himself, and how he carries out his mission. Manipulation is his greatest peeve. Protecting his heart is his greatest operation.
Price doesn’t see you until later; Making sure supplies and operations were starting smoothly, his mind was in a flurry of motions he subconsciously grew used to over the years. He knows what boxes need to be checked, being sure to be prepared for everything. He wasn’t prepared to find you in the briefing room before anyone else, looking right as rain and ready to go.
You’re a wicked piece of work, being able to act as if nothing was askew. Totally innocent. You could feel his glare before even looking at the man, and gods above so below, he was pissed off. Horny, and pissed off.
“Good morning, Captain.” The sound of his footsteps halting leaves the room quiet, making you look up to him. “Everything alright? Seems like you’ve seen the devil himself.”
Even with knowing this team for a short time, they could be impressed by how well you could read their emotions. Even Ghost, with just a look of his eyes and gauging what lays under his mask. Right now was not one of these moments.
Approaching slowly, eyes watching where he steps, the indent of his cheek shows where he bites at it. “Tell me, sweetheart. How’d you sleep last night?”
Once reaching where you sit, he leans on the table with a heavy hand as the other holds the back of your chair. “Because you seem mighty chipper this morning, eh?”
A wave of vexation washes over you from his tone and gaze alone. You’re beyond thankful you’ve taken a moment to not show your tail today or else it would have frozen in place.
“I slept fine, ready for the day.” Reverting to innocence was starting to piss Price off.
“Right, right.” Grunting in response, he moves in closer to your face. “Because I woke up tired, cum in my pants, and quite the feeling of a very warm weight over me. Would you happen to know anything about that, little devil?”
“Would there be an issue if I did? That's quite the allegation, Price.”
The wood underneath his hand squeaks with the strain his fingers pull at it.
“If you ever do that again, I will be contacting your owners and having your ass back on a plane faster than you can go to sleep.”
With the Captain’s anger solely focused on you, resentment stemming all from a dream and granting him pleasure, something inside of you breaks off into cooling embers. A cold shiver washes down your back. The mention of going back to your previous commanders makes your stomach roll with pinpricks at the mere thought of what they would do to you.
“Do. You. Understand. Saint?” He whispers once his lips press against your ear, and the bastard can see the fear running through you when your red eyes look past him at the wall.
“Yes, Captain.” It waivers on your tongue, thinking you’d have enough strength by the tightness in your throat yet it fails you.
~~~
A week later finds the team on the last stage of the op at a cell-tower outpost, and you’re fucking exhausted. It's horrible. Starving and beyond irritable. You’d compare it to the boys after it's been too long to have a cigarette or stiff drink, but even then some of them could be drama queens surprising to the rulers of hell.
The mission had gone tits up by the middle of the objective, with a high chance of needing to evacuate and re-group to determine if it was even salvageable to complete. Sweeping north on a downward mountain slope gave you a wide berth to the others as they began moving in by the north to coordinate the ambush. Soap and Gaz were stationed to sandwich you in the spread, trailing into the right of Ghost and Price. By the time the road gave way to the tower in a pit of land, the team had been spotted.
“Just get in and take the tower. Soap-”
“On it.” The Sergeant already loading his GLM with HE’s, calling out at the ready with every fire. Soap was a mastermind, having a sense of where exactly the explosives would launch, managing to aim in a ring around the tower while utilizing the shrapnel to make the hostels scatter.
You and Gaz had meant to cover him, make sure he could at least plant his charges with good enough cover to avoid getting down to the platform surrounded by enemies. Of course, there was always a problem.
It took about 30 minutes extra to even clear the line of fire, making a constant suppression with every flare you could throw in the process. Price instructed the bomb needed to be planted now, leading Soap to rush in, calling for Gaz to follow him. Yet, you pulled Gaz back by the bitch handle, keeping him rooted in place for treeline suppression.
“Saint-” Gaz’s sound of disagreement is overshadowed by Price’s yelling over comms.
“Saint, get your ass back to the peak!”
“Already gone, Captain. Watch that line.” You answer back with a pant, sprinting down after Soap to meet him at the base of the tall standing structure.
“Prices’ gonnae hae yer heid, bonnie.” He doesn’t even turn around while setting charges to see who it is. It takes 3 minutes worth for him to make sure it's set, detonator in hand, while you have steady eyes on the surrounding area for him. “Time to blow, Princess.”
“Say less.” You laugh, letting him lead back up the path towards the forest; The moment his arm snags around your waist and ducking his head, you keep your rifle up for precautions while bracing for impact.
“Say the line, love.” Fuck, that was the most romantic thing you’ve ever experienced on the battlefield.
“Fire’s in Hell!” Yelling the alert over comms, you send him a smile before the resonating sound and impact of the explosion make you stagger a bit in footing.
He keeps a steady grip on you while rushing up the steep terrain, ignoring the sound of metal creaking from the force.
Call it natural curiosity, you can't help but look back to watch it fall.
It’s a good thing you did.
As the steel crumples down beam by beam, it fails to put enough pressure on the corner opposite of where you and Soap are. At this, the heavy drums bring the heavy steel poles down faster and practically on top of your position. Pulling to the right to lead you and Soap into a side dash, your shoulder dips down to roll; Leading him to flow with your body to the ground, you pull just enough to roll twice before stopping while laying on his chest. The tower makes impact where you are just standing, a few pieces even disputing next to you as it crumples to its death.
“Soap! Saint! Do you copy?” Ghost’s concern bleeds through your earpiece, wincing as you have to change your mindset to survival by the means of your weapons and muscles.
“Good, L.T. We’ll be at rally point soon.” Looking down to check over the sergeant, he’s doing the same to you. Hands-on your waist, panting for a millisecond before moving to get both of you set and ready to run.
“Fuck…” His curse is a taut hiss, drawing your attention to his right palm that faces up. Stained red.
“Shit- we gotta go. Where are you hurt?” Frantically trying to get your gear sorted as your eyes dart over his body.
“This isn’t my blood, Saint.”
“Wha-?” Shaking your head quizzically while searching his eyes. It’s not his blood? What enemy got close enough to- oh.
Looking down, it's amazing how you can’t feel it. Not yet, at least. A large gash stems from the bottom of your ribcage down to below the crest of your hip. “Oh god damn it.”
There isn’t enough time to pack the damn thing, seeing as you need to get the hell out of dodge and meet with the others. Shaking your head and pulling him along, you can only work on tearing parts of your combat shirt off to cover it.
When you make it to the rally point, the blood has flowed into the fabric of your socks. It’s dark out and everyone has their night vision optics on, so you bank on the fact that they won’t see anything suspicious from you until you could give yourself attention. You’re greeted by the sight of the three others inside the ASV, waiting on you last two.
“There you fuckin are, get your asses in here.” Price seemingly will have your head by the end of all this, if not on the ride back to base. “Soap, up fron’ with Ghost.”
“Aye, sir.”
The arm supporting you turns into two hands around your waist, but as you wince and falter in step from it hitting the gash, Soap has to support you by the underarm.
“Fuck- Hang on, let's get you in here quick.” Picking you up to help you load in, Gaz meets him with arms out to set you onto the bench with him across from Price.
At the scene being far too caring and coddling of a demon, Price’s hair stands as he tries to break down what the fuck just happened.
“Are you damn hurt?” He hisses sharply, moving instantly to take a knee in front of you, and in between your legs.
As the vehicle rolls, you can only make sense of Price’s hands touching all over your body, stilling when he feels the cooling warmth of your blood. Unclipping your tac vest and shoving your shirt up, his eyes trace over the wound.
“Why didn’t either of you say something?” He so much as shouts while turning to get the med kit from your bag, startling you and the others for a quick second.
“Wasn’t gonna change anything. Needed to get here.”
“How bad is it, Price?” Comes Ghost’s voice from the front. Soap stays quiet as you answer but you swear you could see him share a look with Ghost.
“Halfway to back the way she came. Fuckin bleedin all over.”
“Saint, hey- Can you stay awake for us, love?” Gaz’s voice does just the opposite, finding it comforting in the way he speaks when knowing you’re vulnerable. “Shit- should we give her a stim?”
Price doesn’t even have the time to answer as you cut all conversation off. “I’m cold, John…”
Alarm bells ring in the four men’s heads, hearing your voice be so sweet with a whine, and that you just called Price by his first name.
You don’t see them panic as your eyes close.
#task force 141#cod mw2#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare#tf141#captain price x reader#captain jonathan price#john price x reader#captain john price#john price#sergeant kyle gaz garrick#kyle gaz garrick#john soap mactavish#soap cod#simon riley#simon riley ghost#simon ghost riley#reader is a shithead#what the fuck is slowburn#they boinkin ur honor#daddy is angry#casual poly flirts bc sometimes I wish I wrote this as that#cross posted on ao3
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presenting the obey me dateables (+ luke) with a friendship bracelet
you all asked so nicely for the dateables that i couldn't help but get inspired! i intend to reverse this prompt and write the characters making you a friendship bracelet sometime soon (will be split by demon brothers/dateables bc that's so many words)
[the demon brothers version]
[the dateables (+ luke) presenting you with a friendship bracelet]
content warnings: none
prompt: you grin down at your work. in your hands is a small friendship bracelet, lovingly crafted from hard work and the embroidery thread you found in your closet. you weren't quite sure why you'd made it, but the thought of giving a certain someone the bracelet and watching their reaction made you smile. now, to hand it off...
Diavolo
this is a mistake.
at least, that's what barbatos and lucifer think. because from the moment you present diavolo with a friendship bracelet, it is all he talks about.
when you approach him with the little gift--a red and black bundle of knots and strings-- and offer it up, he laughs jovially and asked what it was. you explain it's a friendship bracelet. from where you're from, you make them for people you care about, so they can have a piece of you with them every day. it's usually a tradition for children and teens, but you thought it would be fun to give him the bracelet regardless. you were just thinking about him (and his lonely childhood-- but you don't say that part aloud) and how he didn't really do stuff like this when he was young... so maybe he'd appreciate it now? you start to feel a little silly by the end of your explanation, so you look up at him to try to gauge his reaction.
you would have thought you proposed with how touched this man looked.
his expression softens and his eyes go wide. he puts out his hands to take the gift and you hand it over. his face quickly splits into a grin as he inspects each individual knot and string. did you really make this? he's impressed. look at how lovely it is! he raves about the quality for longer than necessary (it's not that good, mind you) as you flush from all the praise.
you offer to tie it for him and his eyes sparkle. truly, you never thought he'd enjoy a gift like this that much-- nonetheless, you're incredibly flattered.
how did you make this bracelet? what material is this? will you teach him how to make one, too? how often is he supposed to wear this?
the last question makes you chuckle. honestly, that's up to him. you tell him about that time you wore a friendship bracelet all summer one year, until it was a frayed biohazard that stank up the whole room. you recommend taking it off for showers and activities that might get it that dirty-- please, diavolo, learn from your childhood mistakes-- but other than that, he can wear it whenever he feels like. you assure him that your feelings won't get hurt if he doesn't, but he quickly reassures you that he definitely plans on wearing it.
... and he is not bluffing when he pledges this commitment to you. diavolo will wear his friendship bracelet all day every day, only taking it off when absolutely necessary. that does not include formal meetings or events. he is wearing that damn bracelet. what are they going to do, call him out? he's the fucking demon king (well, close enough).
Barbatos
you present barbatos with the bracelet one day when you've joined him for an afternoon in the kitchen.
he's carefully explaining how he gets the texture to this pastry just right-- there's a clear balance between airiness and moisture, you see-- while you try to listen. you can't help but let your mind wander as he talks. doesn't he know this friendship bracelet is practically burning a hole in your pocket?!
"mc, are you listening?"
he's looking up at you with expectant eyes, and you feel yourself flush in embarrassment. you barely get alone time with him as-is, and here you are, wasting it! you apologize and explain you've been a bit distracted. he welcomes you to share (if you are so inclined), pausing his work to give you his full attention.
it's now or never. you can either be brave, or you can walk back to the house of lamentation with your tail between your legs!
you present the butler with your creation-- a green and black friendship bracelet-- with a small explanation of what it is. you feel juvenile presenting an ancient demon such a childish gift, but he accepts your gift with a nod and a small smile. barbatos sets aside the gift for the rest of the day, careful that it won't get soiled by the mess of ingredients as he continues his baking lesson.
you assume barbatos has stored in somewhere out of sight-- you'd like to think he cares enough about your feelings to keep it, but you have also never seen him wear it. you're starting to feel like an idiot for even gifting him such a silly thing in the first place. he's arguably the second most powerful demon in the realm. he doesn't have time for a chintzy little bundle of strings from some insignificant human!
you're at the castle one day on another retreat with the rest of the house of lamentation residents. in a chaotic scuffle with one of his brothers, mammon manages to knock an open bottle of demonus directly into barbatos' chest. the butler sighs and begins to take off his coat while lucifer is moments away from tearing mammon into thirds.
as he opens his jacket, you spot it.
pinned inside the front of his jacket is, undoubtably, your bracelet. you recognize that striped pattern from a mile away. you can't forget the embarrassing amount of time you spent toiling away over cheap embroidery floss (not to mention the several mess-ups you had to throw out). you almost can't believe that's where he's been keeping it all this time.
barbatos catches you staring at the bracelet and gives you a small, secret smile. he leaves the jacket open for a moment longer-- it's like he knows, like he's letting you commit the image to memory-- before folding it neatly in his arms. he turns on his heel and walks back to his room before you can react further.
you're a little bummed to see him go. after all, that bracelet was probably ruined in all the liquid-y chaos from a few minutes ago. yet when he returns, adjusting his jacket one last time, you swear you see a flash of green and black string.
maybe it was just your imagination. and maybe that knowing look on his face was, too.
Simeon
you've found the clump of tangled embroidery floss in your closet among things you've brought from the human world. you aren't really sure how it got there, but you've got some free time to kill-- why not try to make one of those friendship bracelets you had growing up?
it starts out in your head as a stupid little joke. who among the people you know here would be the most accepting of a dumb little gift like this?
... simeon, probably. i mean, the guy's an angel. isn't being gracious and kind part of their whole schtick?
as you weave the threads together, you feel yourself get excited. simeon means a lot to you. he's been there any time you've needed him throughout the entire exchange program, always there to lend a hand or a listening ear whenever you so desire. you don't get to see him as much as you'd like, seeing as he lives all the way over at purgatory hall, but you feel you're close enough to give him such a gift.
you catch him after class at RAD one day. you don't have time run by purgatory hall after school, and you're worried if you wait much longer to give him the bracelet, you'll somehow lose or destroy it. when you approach, he's all smiles.
"mc? to what do i owe the honor?"
you ask if you can speak to him alone-- nobody misses the suggestively suspicious look solomon tosses the two of you-- and he leads you to a quite corner of the hallway.
suddenly, this whole thing feels very silly. but, at this point, you've already dragged him away from everyone, so you might as well go through with it.
you pull the blue and white friendship bracelet from the pocket of your uniform and offer it out to him. you explain that it's a friendship bracelet, something that human kids usually exchange as a show of friendship and devotion. you were in the mood to make one the other night and thought he might appreciate it. there. that didn't sound too cringe, right?
your gaze slowly lifts from your hands to find simeon in as disheveled of a state as you. his cheeks are flushed and his face is frozen as he processes your explanation. then a slow, delighted smile spreads over his cheeks.
out of everything to happen today, he definitely did not anticipate this happening. yet he couldn't be more pleased. he gives you his thanks as you tie the bracelet around his wrist-- over his gloves, so he can show it off to everyone, he tells you.
what did you say these were for? an expression of friendship? he's touched that you'd include him in an intimate human ritual like this (it's not that deep, but his smile makes you bite your tongue). would you be willing to stop by purgatory hall sometime soon so he can learn more about it? he loves any story you tell, after all.
you part ways with identical grins and a promise to meet again sometime soon. simeon assures you that he'll take care of the bracelet-- it's very special, you know, since you're the one that gave it to him.
and take care of it he does. every time you see him, he's wearing that bracelet. it looks nicer than the day you gave it to him! you're surprised, until satan reminds you simeon's always wearing white. clearly, he's good at keeping things clean.
he wears a big ass white cloak all day, every day. you think a little bracelet is going to trip him up? nah. simeon values your gift-- the gesture, the time you put into making him the bracelet, the skill it took to make such a pretty little thing-- too much to let an ounce of dirt sully his favorite present.
Solomon
hey, solomon. you want a friendship bracelet?
he looks up from his school work to eye you curiously. you two are on opposite sides of a table in one of RAD's many libraries. you're supposed to be studying, but you got bored fifteen minutes ago and haven't been productive since.
you pull a bundle of embroidery floss out of your pocket and spread it out on the table. a rainbow of colors sits mostly untangled-- you've been trying all day, but some knots are simply too stubborn-- across the smooth wood, and across the materials you should really be studying right now.
got a color preference, sorcerer boy, or am i going to have to give you the ugliest combination i can think of?
he laughs and tells you to do your worst. are you actually going to make one, though? how do you even remember how to do that? he admits he's never actually had one before. you tease him for being a lonely old man. he teases you right back for being a dweeb who wastes brain space on how to make gifts for third graders.
just for that comment, his bracelet's going to be ugly. and you won't even try to make it not lumpy, too. in your face, peepaw.
you get to work weaving the strings into a particular pattern of knots. you've chosen snot green and tree bark brown, paired nicely with a subtle hot pink for a more elegant look. slowly but surely, you start forming the stripes of the bracelet. you can feel his eyes on you, but for once, you decide not to tease him. you're feeling generous today, after all.
when you finish, you tie off the lose end and untape the other from the front of your textbook-- that's certainly the most useful its been to you all day-- with a victorious little smirk. he's still watching you work. you've succeeded in distracting him as well, congrats! it's what he deserves for dragging you into a half an hour argument between levi and asmo last week for no other reason than to see you struggle to keep the peace. karma's a bitch, and seeing this ugly ass bracelet across his wrist will be the cherry on top.
you instruct him to hold out his wrist and he complies. you start tying the ends together, careful not to permanently knot it around his wrist, when--
"wow, you actually made it for me. does that mean we're best friends now? i guess i'll have to brag to those brothers about it, won't i?"
you feel your life flash before your eyes. suddenly, you can hear it in your mind-- seven overlapping voices arguing, louder and louder, for you to make them a friendship bracelet as well. nothing will satiate their jealousy with each other. it's like entertaining a horde of toddlers: a gift to one is an insult to the rest.
oh. oh shit.
you're on your feet before you can speak. suddenly, maybe you don't want solomon to have that bracelet anymore. but he's always five steps ahead of you. literally, in this case, seeing as he's already taken off towards the other end of the library. oh hell no.
you manage to catch up to him eventually, and the afternoon devolves into you (playfully and consensually) bullying each other over the gift.
for all his big talk, he does actually wear the bracelet every day. you think that it's mostly to make you worry that one of the brothers might ask about it-- and that's definitely a big part of why he does it, seeing as he smirks every time he catches you looking at it-- but you think there must be a part of him that actually likes it, ugly color scheme and all.
it's solomon, remember? horrible chef, spellcaster to varying degrees of success, general menace to society. that bracelet is filthy in a matter of days. what's worse, though, is that he also has a terrible habit of breaking or losing it. this would be fine under normal circumstances. no harm, no foul, right? but every three to four business days, whenever he breaks it or covers it in mud or loses it somewhere in the hallway, he's up your ass for you to make him a new one.
what can he say? you're besties, aren't you? that's why you made the bracelet in the first place. now chop chop, mc, his wrist feels naked.
Luke
you visit purgatory hall after school one day, a pep in your step and a bright smile on your face. a few of the brothers question your giddiness as you head out (mammon especially didn't like that you wouldn't elaborate where you were going or who you were seeing), but you make it to your destination unscathed and unfollowed.
when you walk in-- you've had an open invite to visit whenever since the early days of the exchange program-- you spot luke baking in the kitchen. he calls out to you from his spot near the oven and invites you to try this cake he's been working on. barbatos taught him the recipe last week, and ever since, he's been working hard to perfect his version of the dish.
you spend a few minutes playing taste tester for the little angel before you get his attention. you've got a gift for him. the anticipation is starting to kill you, so you'd like to get it out of your hands.
you open your palms and reveal your present: a white and gold friendship bracelet. you explain that it's usually a gift kids in the human realm give each other.
... probably the wrong wording, considering who you're giving the gift to.
"is this because you think i'm a child? now you sound like lucifer! listen here, i'll have you know i report directly to archangel michael, who--"
you let him continue his little rant until he gets it all out of his system. when he's done, looking at you expectantly for some sort of rebuttal, you grin and explain the real reason for your gift. you think of luke as a close friend, and you wanted to give him a gift familiar to your culture that communicates that with the world.
an embarrassed flush spreads over his cheeks as the cherub realizes he might have jumped to conclusions. he sheepishly smiles at you and asks you to tell him more.
you tie the bracelet onto his wrist and explain all your favorite childhood memories with gifts like these. every friendship bracelet, each matching necklace you got with a childhood friend, all of those little mementos of friendships past still sit in a box in your closet. you might outgrow wearing a yarn bracelet (or it might have grown filthy over the years with all your sticky-fingered adventures), but you'll never outgrow the memories behind them.
luke asks if he can see them some day. will you tell him more stories if he visits you at the house of lamentation? you smile and agree-- so long as he doesn't get gobbled up on the way there. now he's protesting again. he's not a child! (whatever you say, luke).
by the end of the evening, you've explained the knotting patterns you used to make the bracelet. luke tells you to watch out-- he's gonna make you such an amazing bracelet, just you wait! you grin, already excited to show off his little creation.
#solomon is SUCH a shithead#peepaw is so fun to bully#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me swd#obey me x reader#obey me diavolo#obey me diavolo x reader#obey me barbatos#obey me barbatos x reader#obey me simeon#obey me simeon x reader#obey me luke#obey me headcanons#otome
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getting on a heated argument with rindou so you made him sleep on the couch. you know what he did in retaliation? he took all the mf-ing blankets & pillows and started building himself a whole ass blanket fort, smack dab in the middle of the living room.
"oh now you're jealous? no no no don't think about getting in, you want to have the bed so bad didn't you? go sleep on that boring ass rectangle of a block, let me enjoy my stay at casa de haitani"
now you can't even go to the toilet or the kitchen without him obnoxiously exclaiming how much he's enjoying himself right now. and you hate how he's definitely right about you being jealous of the fort he took all the pillows (he did leave you atleast one pillow, but it's the one that was so rigid none of you ever uses it; also the smelly blanket that he refuses to put on the washer for some reason).
ugh, he's such a little shit who just won't apologize >:/ can't believe he's letting you go to sleep with an unresolved squabble between you two.
little did you know, he's intentionally waiting for you to fall asleep so that he can carry you inside his humble castle. after all, he built it with his queen in mind.
#I LOVE RINDOU SO MUCH HE MAKES ME WANNA THROW UP#he's a shithead your honor#a loveable shithead#haitani rindou#rindou haitani#haitani rindou x reader#haitani rindou x y/n#haitani rindou fluff#tokyo revengers imagine#tokyo revengers fluff#tokyo revengers x reader
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Them: Gojo is such a sunshine
The same Gojo in question:
#his lack of personality is showing#I get you gege for hating him so much lmaoooo#words can’t describe how much I dislike his character#Gojo was always a shithead the whole sunshine thing is a headcanon#jjk#gege even hating gojo through his art lmao i love it#jjk spoilers#jujutsu kaisen#anime jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu sukuna#jujutsu gojo#jjk gojo#jjk manga#jjk headcanons#jjk art#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen spoilers#jujustu kaisen
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mmmmmore sugar daddy submas :)
Pairing: Ingo x gn!Reader, Emmet x gn!Reader (mentioned)
Warnings: Sugar Daddy-esque relationship
Once you three get more comfortable with each other after a few events, Ingo and Emmet ask you to go on a day out with them. They'd like to get to know you better. Ingo will take you out in the morning, then trade you off to Emmet in the afternoon so that they can each still work a half day at the station.
Your morning with Ingo starts with a visit to a cute local diner, where he lets you order whatever you'd like on his tab as the two of you chat. He presents a few ideas for your morning together. One of which is a request that you visit the fashion district together. This surprises you. Ingo's explanation comes quickly.
"I'd like to get to know your sense of style. After all, if you're going to continue to come to events with us, you'll need more than just two or three outfits."
And that's how you find yourself in a high-end clothing store being fussed over by the Trevithick's personal favorite tailor. Ingo sits in a plush chair and watches. The tailor hand-selects a few pieces that you're far too afraid to look at the price tag for and has you change into them one by one in a side room.
They're all stunning on you. You can see why this tailor is a favorite of the twins. Each piece of clothing's color, texture, and cut seems to work with you in a way that even the "fancy" clothes you'd worn for previous events didn't. Ingo watches unmoving from his armchair, with a seemingly reserved expression each time you step out of the changing rooms. Still, you know him well enough by now to know he's enjoying himself watching you.
Until...
You find a piece that seems to click. It's like magic as you look into the mirror before you. You turn for yourself, admiring the perfect fit of it. It accentuates all of the right places and seems to make every insecurity invisible. Delicate crystals glitter along your shoulders in cascading patterns. Their sparkle brings out the twinkling of your eyes. A feeling that's warm and lovely stirs in your heart as you examine yourself.
Crucially, this outfit is all black. Ingo's color.
You keep your eyes on him as you step out. His back straightens immediately upon seeing you. Slowly he stands from his seat and makes his way to you. The look on his face is like he can't believe you exist.
His voice is breathy and uncharacteristically quiet, "Bravo! You're a vision! You look like you stepped out of a beautiful dream." Then turning to the tailor, "We'll take it. And that silver one they liked too. Please, have them adjusted for the proper measurements. Can we expect to pick them up in the usual timeline?"
The tailor cheerfully confirms, and when they calculate the total you nearly choke.
"Ingo, that's way too much! I couldn't possibly-!"
"Nonsense! As I said, you need more formalwear, and I... truly," He places a hand on your waist, gently, almost reverantly. It sends tingles up your spine, "I would like to see you in this again."
#ingo x reader#ingo#submas x reader#x reader#pokemon x reader#my writing#sugar daddy submas#Emmet is up next :]#first time actually writing writing something#ik its short but maybe I can do more like this sometime#Emmet is NOT happy about the all black clothes. Little shithead is jealous but won't admit it.
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Killer - Prison AU
This stems from my WIP that I’m currently plotting (among like, five other stories), where Dust, Killer, and Farmer are in a prison.
He is the most annoying little shit I swear
Not only does he somehow manage to charm almost every single newbie nurse, but he’s also a master at getting away with “technically-not-illegal” things
Dust figures out the loopholes, and Killer abuses them.
Like really abuses them.
He irritates the guards to no end but they can’t do shit because he’s technically not disobeying the rules
The very few times he does get in some sort of fight or accidentally does something that earns him a genuine punishment, he always goes straight to solitary confinement.
Killer isn’t a fan of solitary confinement. Kinda sucks for him.
He also has a fun little hobby of finding ways to just… break out.
Doesn’t run afterwards. Just sits outside waiting for the guards to find him and drag him back in
The Prison Guards theorise he’s only staying because of Dust and Farmer.
They also frequently question how the hell he’s managing to escape, and sometimes Killer takes pity on them (read: wants to rub it in their faces) and shows them.
He’s literally just a goofy guy who likes to cause mischief. Hell, sometimes he even starts riots and then dips before they can find him for the hell of it
His file says something along the lines of, “Killer appears to be extremely cunning, craft and charming, and uses these traits to be the biggest shithead in any prison ever.” in big, bold letters.
Nurses have to sign a contract that they will not be charmed by Killer because this motherfucker has no sense of shame.
But yeah, he’s just a silly guy though
#Killer Sans#Prison AU#undertale fanfic#Headcanons#Bad Sanses#Dust Sans#Farmer Sans#Technically the story is a#Sans x reader#So y'know#Biggest shithead energy /aff
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Flower Beds - Xiao x Reader
Genre - Slow burn, flirting, potential romcom with some serious undertones. WIP.
You never planned to do much with your Vision, the power of Anemo was nice, you don't deny it, but you weren't the type to utilize it in your life. You didn't fight, you didn't even consider yourself a traditional traveler. You were just a foreigner.
Originally from Mondstadt as part of Ordo Favonius, you had packed up your belongings and set off to new sights for the sake of your mental and physical health. The air in Mond was crisp but it got so dusty with the abundance of winds and Anemo users, so you said fuck it and set off to wherever the roads took you. And to Liyue they took you. You had a farm in Liyue off to the outskirts, about a days walk to the Harbor. It was quaint, quiet, and perfect. And you wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. You were just a regular citizen living in Teyvat these days who had no intentions of picking up a sword or bow again. The calluses on your hands had eased away, you no longer reached for your sword as an unknown sound filled the empty space, and more importantly, you no longer had to answer to an authority that didn't believe in the freedoms the nation of Mondstadt preached about. You were free.
It was easy to earn mora, to find a stable job and inherit an abandoned farm, luck was on your side. You grew Liyue specialities along with some Mond specialties that garnered you the most profit. In lay-mens terms, you were set and content with the farm life, you never had to worry about fighting, drama or having to patch yourself up from patrols and attacks. That is until one night you were met with a bloodied figure laid face-down in your Qingxin flowerbeds.
Instinct drove you to act quickly; rushing back inside the main house on the farm, you quickly snagged a Mondstadt-based first-aid kit from the kitchen cupboard and ran back outside to the individual who now owed you a good amount of mora considering he not only crushed four flowerbeds but got blood splattered across two more.
"I don't know if you're conscious but if you're alive please fucking breath." You muttered as you carefully turned the man around to lay on his back. He was covered in blood, but you couldn't find any open wounds or fractures to pinpoint where it came from. Scanning the man, you got to what should have been his face, but rather than typical skin and flesh was just a black Nuo mask that glowed a faint green. You reached a hand out to remove the mask but the moment your fingers grazed the mask, it shimmered out of existence revealing a face clean of blood save for the few dots and small splatters along his jaw.
You knew this face. Rather, you've heard of him. He went by several names, the most common among them was Xiao. Many recalled him by the title of Conqueror of Demons, others called him the Guardian Yaksha. You first heard of him by the name of Atalus, the Golden-Winged King.
Dark medium-length hair with teal undertones were dried with blood and clung to his face, his eyes closed as if he were fast asleep rather than hurt, and his lips were parted slightly. A fuckin' mouth-breather, you thought to yourself.
You sighed and decided the best thing to do was wake up the deity who decided to take a nap on your flowers. Once again reaching out to shake his shoulder, he suddenly groaned in what seemed like annoyance before turning on to his side to face away from you. "Do not bother me," he muttered between yawns.
Eyes wide and letting out a scoff, you pulled him back with a force once forgotten and felt the frown on your brows deepen. "You're in my damn flowers getting your blood everywhere! The least you could do is get up and sleep on the dirt path."
"It's not my blood." He muttered meekly.
"As if that makes it any better!"
Feline-like eyes that seemed to glow like gold looked directly at you, a stern frown present and sending a shiver down your spine. He sighed before sitting up, tilting his head several ways to stretch his shoulders. "You know who I am?" He asked as he rolled his shoulders, his gaze not returning to yours.
"I do." You responded as you began to close up the first-aid kit you apparently never needed.
"Then what are your wishes? Tell me now so I can leave."
"Huh? I don't have any wishes."
"I find that hard to believe. Every mortal has wishes. This is your chance to be selfish. What is it? Mora? A lover?" He began to observe his surroundings, taking in the farm before his eyes closed in on the now sullied flowerbeds, blinking as if the sight were commonplace. "Better crops, perhaps."
You sighed in annoyance as you snugged the first-aid kit under your arm, standing up to make your way back inside the main house. "The Conqueror of Demons doesn't grant wishes. Fix my flowers, that's several months profit you messed up."
Xiao watched you leave in what was probably a daze, hearing your response left him wide-eyed for a moment before he realized the mess he had gotten himself into.
"To think the day would come that I'd be reduced to a farmer's bidding. Ridiculous."
So I haven't written in a hot minute. The last fic I wrote was a spicy Scara fic that I uploaded on AO3 and since then my brain has flatlined on writing. But I wanna dabble on writing some soft stuff with my main, Xiao. Hope it pans out well.
#xiao x reader#xiao fanfic#xiao x you#xiao x y/n#xiao fluff#xiao slowburn#genshin impact#fanfic#genshin xiao#genshin x you#genshin x reader#genshin fic#genshin fanfic#genshin x y/n#xiao scenarios#genshin#genshin fluff#genshin impact x reader#xiao is a little shithead but he's a softie#flower beds xiao fic
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i need me some naruto fluff! like how he fell in love, getting asked out for the first time, the way he treats his lover in front of his friends, first kiss, first time ughhhjjjjjskkzmskzm
i see the childhood friends to lovers trope being really fitting for him!! he's always loved you over the years, growing side by side; always attached by the hip, but never truly realized how deep that love actually went until he was in his early twenties.
because all of a sudden the regular sleepovers you'd have with him would be kind of riddled with tension he wouldn't know how to acknowledge, much less understand. he'd dream about you. ask his friends about you. would make his gaze linger. would enjoy the hugs you'd give him way more than he used to........ i think you'd both get sort of tipsy during one of those sleepovers and would just kiss each other - like so simple but so complicated at the same time.
it'd be a bit awkward but super cute. your first smooch that wasn't a dare or a joke. a cautious brush of lip, an accidental click of teeth clashing against teeth, a mere hint of tongue. his face burning so, so red the entire time; even by the time you fall asleep in his arms and he's left to overthink and torture his little pea-brain to the point of exhaustion.
as for the first time; clumsy, sweaty sex with lots of giggling as you both try to figure out how your bodies work and what the other likes. lots of touching and messy kissing. strings of drool and tousled hair. not necessarily virgins, but not all that experienced either. just feeling content that you can connect in this sort of way, it's super special. only deepens the bond between you and turns you inseparable.
you're the dream couple in your group, because you've been friends before becoming an item. you're practically soulmates; both platonic and romantic. definitely the girl he marries and wants to spend the rest of his life with.
he'd be a great boyfriend <3
#also ur dates would be so chaotic plssss#gossiping and talking shit just like u used to when u were friends#stuffing ur faces with food#acting like little shitheads jfjsjcisjdjd#naruto x reader#naruto uzumaki
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all my fics are beta read.
by who, you may ask?
me. and google docs spelling/grammar check
#fanfic author#fic author#text#shitpost#ko’s rambles#i don’t need a beta reader. i die like. uh. *opens book of dead blorbos*#uh. uhh. i die like uh#*aggressive page flipping noises*#i die like. fuckin. uh#what’s that fuckin purple haired shithead from dang it romper three
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I just think he likes to piss off Joonghyuk in every waking moment
#orv#omniscient reader's viewpoint#kim dokja#omniscient reader webtoon#yoo jonghyuk#yu joonghyeok#omniscient reader novel#my art#hello yes i firmly believe that Kim Dokja spends every minute of every day annoying Joonghyuk to death#like truly testing out his limits#he does this type of stuff and when he finally snaps he'll be like 'surely theres an explanation to why'#its because you're a shithead dokja#please someone stop him cause Joonghyuk certainly can't#excuse how rough these are i havent had the motivation to fully render and colir stuff lately but✨#that doesnt stop me from drawing them being idiots✨#nibbelraz
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Anon is onto something with shirabu, especially because he's in med school
AHHHHHAHSHHHHHGGGGGGHH!!!!!!!!!
ITS EVEN BETTER NOW
#UR LYING UR LYINGGGG THE YELL I JUST YELLED!!!!!!!!#I FORGOT ABOUT THAT!!!!!!#OHHHHHH IT MAKES IT SO MUCH BETTER OOKFRKRKFJDJDJDJJRDJDK#THE WORLD WORKS SPECIFICALLY FOR ME AND MY DESIRES#oh my god. this med school shithead ohhhhhhhh#med school shirabu with waitress reader or something#she just has A Job. always feels a little bit below him because he is doing something Big.#and now hes angry and doesnt want to be tied down to her? he has dreams to follow and big things to do in life?#he cant do this and hes not going to? hes going ghost for 2 weeks#yeahhhhh haha yep. yepppp that settles it#and then he has a slight change of heart and hes like sowwy i was mean or whatever :(#get a LIFE DUDE!!!!#the way hes not real and im screaming at him#tw abortion
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I love an incorrect quote post as much as the next guy, I do, but there is such a thing as too incorrect you know.
I'm aware it's the antithesis of what the incorrect quote format stands for but... sometimes... they truly would not fucking say that
#i've never seen a fandom who fully dont give a single shit about characterization as much as the batman fandom bc goddamn#actual comic readers that have to deal with the fanon miasma i am so so sorry yall are being so brave about it#this post is not targeted at any posts in particular i just felt like being a shithead stickler :]#benny babble
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✎ wedding anniversary
- gojo satoru x reader
seven years of dating, two years of wedded bliss, and gojo is having his greatest existential crisis yet... all because this year, you apparently have forgotten the most important day of your lives
genre:
18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—heavy smut, fingering, cunnilingus, p in v sex, slight breeding kink, crack, drunk, lovesick and possessive gojo (nanami is so very done with him), also fluff !!
note:
back to chu's thirsting hour :') based on a fellow gojo fucker's very helpful brainrot (chiyo if you see this, hii!😗) pls give it some love bc this has gone through not showing up in the tags 5x already *sobs*
a part of gojo's love entries
series masterlist | oneshot masterlist
To this day, it was still beyond Nanami why you, his very sensible former classmate, would have Gojo Satoru as your husband.
“She... doesn't—hic!—care about m-me... anymore!”
But well, to each their own.
“Gojo—”
“Today is our—hic!—anniversary!”
This is exhausting. It had been 30 minutes ever since the blindfolded shithead started rambling his sorrows. “She is probably just busy, you don't have to—”
“I r-really thought—hic!—she would at least n-not forget it l-like that!”
“Please, stop this nonse—”
Satoru snapped his head so swiftly that Nanami was startled, pointing out an accusatory finger at his face. “You stop!—you don't understand, Nanami!”
The said man flinched, taken aback, before feeling the surge of irritation coursing through his veins.
Sure, Nanami would gladly admit that he didn't understand. He neither had the time nor energy to. It was beyond him that he was even entertaining this blubbering idiot at this time of the day, in a bar no less. How did he get roped into this in the first place?
Actually, he had minus interest in your marital affairs, but Gojo was latching onto him all day, rambling about how excited he was for this day for weeks now, until you gave him a call, saying you would be home late and disregarded his very open anticipation. You broke his heart to pieces, apparently.
Amidst his heartbroken musings, Gojo followed him to his frequented bar, where he proceeded to down multiple glasses without any supervision.
“Am I really t-that lousy? Can’t be it… I’m s-strong, d-dashing… rich—”
Nanami released a guttural sigh, messaging his temples. How could this idiot have no shame while spouting all of this?
“Will s-she… divorce me next…?” he abruptly blurted, eyes widening as saucers and full of clarity all of a sudden. Satoru firmly tugged at his suit and forced him to face him. “Nanamin…! S-she won’t divorce me, r-right?!”
Oh, to hell with it. Nanami couldn’t take this anymore. He was done and he had no patience to tolerate it any longer.
He shrugged him off, and pulled out his phone to dial your number. “Hello? Please, come pick your husband. He’s a public nuisance!”
In fact, you didn’t forget your anniversary.
How could you? Satoru made it his point to drop hints about it almost every day, and you actually struggled to be indifferent about it because you also had things planned out.
A present—already taken care of thanks to your mail order of Rolex’s newest collection watch, and a treat—a two-tier mochi cake he had been staring at with literal stars in his eyes on your last date.
Which has become the problem. The bakery had mishandled your delivery and you had to wait for them to remake it. It was 8pm already and you couldn't help but worry. Satoru must be feeling utterly despondent by now, thinking you had forgotten a day that meant so much for both of you.
And so when you got a call from Nanami, you dropped everything to get him and told the bakery to arrange for the delivery tomorrow, because you knew... nothing good ever came out of Satoru getting drunk.
"I missed youuuu~! Dearest, darling— my universe!"
To Satoru, the everything around him was a blur of lights and hiccups when you came to retrieve him. Nanami was so eager to wash his hands off him, leaving you with a pointed grimace as if pitying you.
. . .
"A-are you going to—hic!—leave m-me?" Satoru slurred for the nth time now, stumbling inside your house with you propping him.
"For the last time, no, but I'm tempted to," you hissed, throwing him a glare. Your husband was a very unpleasant drunk because he wasn't even a drinker in the first place. "Satoru—walk properly!"
You managed to get him into your bedroom, where Satoru flopped onto the bed, dissolving into groans. You exhaled deeply and plucked the buttons of his shirt open, trying to get him change into his sleepwear.
"Ah... haaah," suddenly he caught your hand and placed it on his bare chest, his eyes blazing into yours, rambling, "Sweetheart—please. I c-can't live without you now... I'm sorry—I'm sorry for anything, or everything, I don't even know but—please don't hate me—"
"Satoru..." Your eyes widened slightly in surprise. Why was he this spooked? "I'm not leaving you, okay?"
"I promise you, I'll do better—" his voice was watery, as if his throat was clogged up. "I'll be better..." His voice then reduced into a whisper. The alcohol had stripped away his facade, leaving his raw emotions exposed.
Something inside you lurched. Throughout the nine years you have been with him, Gojo Satoru was always irritatingly self-assured, and so seeing him like this— so openly fragile, it did more than just churn your insides; it made you realize the depth of his feelings.
In that moment, you knew your reassurance meant everything.
"I'm not going anywhere, yeah?" you placed your other hand over his, offering him a genuine, soft smile. “Satoru, I’ve put up with your ass for more than nine years. So…” you shifted your eyes away, suddenly feeling embarrassed, before looking at him again. “I'm here... for you, always.”
His grip on your hand loosened slightly, but the intensity in his gaze didn't wane, and you would've laughed when he hiccupped next if you weren't feeling the overwhelming warmth in your chest.
But oh you wouldn't have expected it, because one heartbeat later, he yanked you down to the bed— crashing his lips against yours.
“Mmmph!”
He tangled his nimble fingers on your hair, and his other hand slipped inside your blouse, unclasping your bra in one flick. You let out a gasp, "Satoru—! "
Before you could even gasp, in the next second, he flipped you over— seizing your puffy lips once more. His hands now moved with more urgency, squeezing your breasts rather roughly, flicking your nipples with the pads on his thumbs.
And soon, far sooner than you thought...
"Who else gets to see you like this?" Satoru inquired darkly after you were naked under him, his voice low and deep. He was no longer that stupid husband of yours, rather the wanton man of your nightly wonders.
Without warning, he slid one of his fingers into your folds, probing your walls, and a gasp escaped you as you arched your back, throwing your head back on the sheets.
"No— one," your voice came in a breathless moan, still reeling. "H-how can y-you ask me—" Stretching you out even further, he entered another finger and you wailed, "Mmgh!"
He had always loved the sounds you made and how you were so pretty squirming under him like this. And before you knew it, his face was inches from your cunt, blowing hot air into your sensitive flesh.
"Tell me, who is the only person who gets to see you like this?"
Your eyes rolled back, words died on your tongue as his skilled tongue ran down on your drenched pussy. You instinctively tried to close your legs around his head, but he firmly held them apart.
"You." Panting, your mind racing to form coherent thoughts. You managed to mutter, "Only you... No one else—hah—just y-you...!"
He suckled on your clit hungrily then, rewarding you for your honesty. Squelching noises echoed around your marital bed as your arousal pooled around his fingers— you being so incredibly, irrevocably close to your release.
"Haaah, ngh—mmph!—Satoru, I'm a-about to—!" but then, in one cruel twist, he withdrew his digits, and your pussy throbbed at the loss.
You muffled your whines, feeling betrayed and irritable. "What—why—!?"
"Don't think that I'll let you cum anywhere else but my cock," he stated gallantly with an unusually stern expression, blue eyes narrowing as he assessed your wetness. Right in front of your eyes, his cock sprung after he let it out of his pants.
"Soon, you'll feel me..." Your eyes shamelessly followed his long length as he placed it on your lower belly. "...there."
Everything about him using that taunting tone turned you on, and true to his words, he soon slid himself inside you. He let out a low grunt at the feeling of how your walls clenching around him and you whined, the pain of being stretched making you almost sob.
"Shit, hold still," Satoru groaned, pushing down on your belly. "You're so tight— relax for me a bit, sweetheart? You're doing so, so fucking well."
His words went through you, and you could feel yourself opening more to ease his intrusion. Next thing you knew, he was buried deep inside you, and his gaze met you once again.
"Are you okay?" he asked between breaths, voice softening. When you nodded in response, he planted a kiss on your chest.
"I love you," he said in a rasp, eyes piercing your soul. "I’ll give you anything. My body, heart, soul—you can have it all. In return, you just have to promise one thing." His eyes, now clearer, deprived of the earlier haze, boring straight into you like an arrow.
"Don't ever leave me."
"I won't," you replied resolutely, catching your breath. Your own eyes shone with your love for him, making it even. "For as long as I live, it's going to always be you."
Satoru gazed at you as if you were his skies and stars, and before he started pounding into you, he vowed—
"Then I'm yours."
And soon, you were a nothing more than a frenzy, hot mess. You couldn’t help the nasty moans flying out of your lips as he kept barreling into you. His grunts reverberated throughout the room, rutting you through your hazed mind.
And the way he was whispering provocations into your ear, pushing you further into ecstasy at the mere thought of—
"What if... I get you pregnant this time?" A thrust. "Just imagine—" Another. "My wife, all round—" Another. "—just because I—am doing this to her—!"
You were barely registering his rambles at this point. Your walls clenching around his girth impossibly tight and you let him claim you as his thoroughly, your legs locking around his waist.
"Ah—ngh, mmrgh! Satoru—more!"
This wasn't you, the usual you wouldn't be this daring— but even you'll be more than forgiven tonight.
Satoru's jaw tightened at the sheer pleasure you brought him, his ego stroked, and his heavenly eyes darkened as you begged and dug your nails into him. He was so close, he could feel it. Your moans was enough to lead him to cum right here and there.
But before that, he was determined to show you, to whom you truly belong.
“My wife.” He growled. A thrust.
“Mine.” You gasped. Harder.
“All mine.” Deeper.
"Yes," you cried. "Yours— all yours, so please—!"
And three deep thrusts later, Satoru finally busted his load inside you, spurts after spurts painting your wall white— filling you up so hard it was spilling out. And your orgasm followed in immediate effect along with your hitched screams of pleasure, before the two of you collapsed on each other, a mix of groans and sweat, entwined in cum, bliss and exhaustion.
"Love you, sweetheart," you heard him murmuring in your ears, enveloping you in a warm embrace as you drifted into sleep.
Next morning, you were awoken to soft hums in your ears.
"Oh, the sleeping beauty awakens." The first sight you saw was Satoru's cheeky grin, and him pecking you on the lips. "How are you?"
"Mmm..." you winced, feeling the slight twinge between your legs. He noticed it and gently untangled himself from you, fingers tracing your waist. "Don't move around too much, you're going to bother my little swimmers, you know."
It took you a few seconds to realize what he meant and you glared at him. "You horny weirdo. I just woke up."
“Heh heh heh~ Don't take it too seriously! I was just trying to get you to smile.” He pinched your cheeks and then mused, “Well, I'd actually be surprised if we made it last night...”
"You're not funny," you retorted. You had been feeling weird and that was when you saw it.
The dazzling, massive diamond ring. On your finger. Wait, is that Graff's Tribal Collection?
"Satoru..." you mumbled, lifting your hand in shock, your eyes fixed on the piece that likely cost more than your monthly wage. "You..."
"Do you like it?" his smile was so easy and light, adoring the sight of you. You were so adorable, marveling at the little gift he got you.
"What do you mean—" you stuttered, turning to him. "Are you crazy?! I can't wear something this expensive—!"
"But that's exactly my point. It's a gift, meant to spoil my wife."
"You are mad," warmth flooded your cheeks, your heart fluttering with joy. You were unbelievably giddy because your husband really knew the way to your heart, yet you'd be damned if you let the excitement show in front of him.
He raised an eyebrow, his expression souring, and with a mocking tone, he accused you, "Actually, you're the one who's gone mad. I can't believe you forgot our anniversary!"
"I didn't, you dummy. I was out picking up your favorite mochi cake before you got yourself wasted." You turned away from him, shyly. "And I got a gift for you too."
"Oh? Oooh! Really!? What is it?!"
He was back to his silly self again, and you could only shake your head, wondering how the sex god from last night and this fool was the same person.
Yet, you felt nothing but love. Your heart couldn't help but melt for him when you saw that carefree grin.
And you couldn't be more grateful to the stars for bringing him into your life.
. . .
Oh, and little did you know that his little swimmers also made the goal last night— as three weeks later, you found yourself clutching the first of your pregnancy tests, which was showing a positive.
#𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo smut#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#gojo satoru#satoru x reader#jjk imagines#jjk drabbles#jujutsu kaisen x reader#satoru gojo x reader#gojo x reader smut#gojo satoru fluff#jjk fluff#gojo x you#satoru gojo fluff#jjk x reader fluff#jjk x reader smut#gojo satoru x reader smut#18+ only#satoru gojo x reader smut
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;R1999 PAVIA - Love Languages (receiving)
Headcanons and analysis on Pavia's love languages and the way he likes to receive affection. A continuation of this post.
before anyone accuses me of favoritism because all three re1999 posts I have are for Pavia - why yes, he's my fave lil guy and I'm glad the previous posts were so well received by other Pavia fans <3
anyway, here's the second part! as usual, my askbox is open for requests!
I do recommend reading the first post linked above, since it goes into how Pavia is perceived by others and how he plays into certain aspects when its convenient for him, among other things. That detail is important, as it applies to this post too - there is a noticeable contrast between the way Pavia acts and the way he feels, within the context of receiving and asking for attention.
This time, there is no third party that validates and enables his shenanigans, no "other" to use as an excuse for his behaviour. And so, it's more of an internal conflict. For Pavia, asking for affection is different than receiving it without having to prod anyone for it - the latter puts him in a much more vulnerable and uncomfortable position.
Due to his line of work, lifestyle and background, Pavia has grown used to simply taking what wants, he isn't shy when it comes to asking for things either, there's that cocky confidence that paints him as an entitled and brash person. But I'd argue that Pavia, more than anyone, knows that to have this sort of power one has to earn it first. Otherwise, he'd be all bark and no bite. When he asks for affection, it's direct - he'll tell you to praise him for whatever mission he might've succesfully completed, he playfully complains about "being the one that does everything around here" and nags you until you comply.
And this is when you realize, it's not affection that he's asking for, it's attention.
And we could talk about how attention is part of showing affection: one must be attentive to their loved ones to know how they'd like to be cherished. But in Pavia's case, it's more of an association he's made in his mind. This stems from the neglect he suffered as a child - shallow attention in any form, positive or negative, is good (as long as he's actively seeking for it). To be seen and recognized is a privilege, and there must be something unique about you that makes others want to acknowledge you, easy.
I mentioned in the previous post that Pavia would struggle with the idea of caring about someone other than himself without any ulterior motives, it also applies on reverse - he struggles with the idea of someone caring about him without wanting something in return. In my other post where I analyze him more in-depth as a character (I'm so sorry that it feels like there's reqUIRED READINGS FOR PEOPLE TO UNDERSTAND MY PAVIA POSTS NOW) I tackle the fact that Pavia does not have some deep seated loneliness that makes him yearn for genuine human contact nor for someone to show him the common ways that people show they care for each other. That his lifestyle has led him to a total rejection of the world and society that failed him. All of this still applies.
Pavia operates by distancing himself as much as possible from conventional society and its norms - this includes affection. When he tells you to praise him for a job well done, it's because he's fine with the superficial and fleeting moment of attention. When his company is used as punishment, he loves knowing that his existence cannot be ignored because of how much others dislike him. Because all of this earns him a moment of enjoyment that also enforces his place outside of conventional society.
This is a lot of text to say that Pavia is a person who can only handle being appreciated from a distance, basically. And it shows when receiving affection entirely unprompted. To continue drawing parallels to him and wolves, you need to earn his trust for that sort of interaction, you need to be part of the pack instead of drag him into what he perceives to be "shitty, boring society". And you'll know you've done so when he shows you, through actions and not superficial words, that he gives the smallest of shits about you.
Okay, with that out of the way, here are Pavia's love languages.
Giving: Quality Time, Gifts
Receiving: Quality Time, Physical Touch
[Quality Time]
Just like before, quality time is used loosely and it matches the explanation in the previous post perfectly: he shows affection to those he trusts by lingering and orbiting around them, inserting himself into their lives and routines, and having the privilege to come and go and know that he'll be welcomed back with open arms.
In the context of receiving, it's the same. Pavia enjoys knowing that those he trusts feel comfortable enough to seek him out casually, that they'll offer their own time to spend it with him. You have the privilege to come and go as you like because you're part of the pack.
The difference is that, when showing affection through quality time, Pavia tends to take a more active role by entirely messing up your schedule and leading you into all sorts of shenanigans - with the very scarce days in which he simply trails after you. There's nothing that brings two people closer than running from the cops together, after all! But when receiving affection through quality time, he's noticeably more passive. If you happen to show up during downtime, you'll be privy to the mess that is his home and he'll leave you to your own devices (just don't touch his collections and you'll be fine).
Snoop around to your heart's content, it's fine. Because you're part of his little family, he sees nothing wrong with you walking around as if you owned the place. To Pavia, you might as well just live there, and he'll give you a spare key if you ever want to hang out, even while he's not present. As far as he's concerned, this is your home too.
The only thing you'll have to learn is the many different spots that are already taken by the pack. You'll know which ones are Andrea's by the permanent slobber and drool coating the pillows and couches, and you'll know where Pavia tends to sit and spend his time, because none of the wolves ever approach his spots without his permission. Of course, this is Pavia and his pack we're talking about - they break their own rules as often as they enforce them, so one day you might encounter a very territorial Maleficent, only to see everyone huddled up together on Pavia's bed the next day, with him buried in a pile of dark, fluffy shadows. It's all about picking up on the general vibe. These guys just love parallel play.
But when I say that you might as well just live there, I mean it. You could show up one day with your own bedframe, drag it over to one of the unused rooms, claim it as your own and no one will raise an eyebrow. If else, Pavia will be in extremely high spirits, praising your initiative and insisting that now that you live here, you can absolutely take over dish cleaning duty.
Aside from that, you also get the privilege of bothering him during work, if you have the guts to do so. Pavia might tell you to fuck off or brush you off from time to time, but by now you're fully aware that that you can stay - as long as you don't become an active obstacle. Of course, there'll be consequences if his superiors or coworkers find out, but everyone also knows better than to try and negotiate with Pavia. He really couldn't care less, however, because having you involved with the mafia means having someone that he can actually tolerate.
And in a more traditional description of quality time, Pavia actually enjoys surprise outings and dates - whether it's a fancy dinner at some expensive restaurant or you coming up to him one night because you need his help in disposing a body. Once he's fine with having you take the lead and be the one dragging him blind into shenanigans instead, that's when you'll know Pavia fully trusts you.
[Physical Touch]
I want to stress the fact that Pavia is very casual with physical touch with everyone around him, on the basis that he loves making people squirm in fear whenever he invades their personal bubbles. The contrast of his intimidating and murderous ways, with him casually patting his targets on the back or acting all chummy with them, has proven to be a great torture method for those faint of heart.
He's friendly and casual to get what he wants, it's as easy as that. It could be getting someone on his good side or sending a message. A very subtle, threatening message. But it's noticeable nonetheless! That predatory grin of his often gives him away, it's also obvious in the tone of his voice.
However, being the one on the receiving end yields mixed results, depending on the time and context of the situation. But it's safe to assume that, most of the time, Pavia is a hypocrite and thus territorial of his own personal space. It doesn't matter if he's in the middle of an important meeting with other influential families in Sicily, if someone does as much as rest a hand on his shoulder, Pavia will bare his teeth and tell them to fuck off.
People he tolerates can get away with minor things, like wrapping an arm around his shoulders, playfully nudging him, and so on - within his limits, of course. But those he trusts? They get a pass for pretty much whatever.
I wouldn't say that Pavia is touchstarved, but he absolutely acts more similarly to a dog in this regard. Again, he enjoys the casualness of it all, the confidence his loved ones display when they simply walk up to him and hold his hand or sit on his lap, all of this stemming from the fact that there's mutual trust and thus, it's just normal behaviour for them to engage in. That's the part he enjoys about receiving affection through physical touch. The same way he pets the wolves of the pack, you can do that to him as well by ruffling his hair, scratching under his chin and so on. You can just lay down on his lap when he's sitting down to chill, tug and cling onto his shirt when walking, link arms or hold hands, shove your cold clammy hands into his shirt. Literally, free real estate. There are little to no boundaries when it comes to being part of the pack (on account of it being some sort of a hivemind, since he DOES control the wolves), so in the scarce moments when he might have an issue, it's as easy as kicking you off and laughing about it.
Physical touch might not be one of his preferred love languages to give and show, but Pavia does reciprocate sometimes. More often than not, he's known for biting - not enough to hurt, unless you piss him off or he wants to annoy you, just a nip here and there, anywhere he can access. Biting and headbutting are pretty much Pavia's version of hugs and kisses.
And now, as a closing point, I'd say that this is when Pavia's aggressive reluctance to be part of conventional society are more obvious, when his own perception as to what is normal is put under the spotlight - he's fine with any sort of physical contact from those he trusts, as long as they don't ever perceive these casual, caring touches and displays of affection (as unorthodox as they may be) as concepts from conventional society. Like, a monogamous or maybe an open relationship. A friends with benefits situation. A friendship between two affectionate people. A familial bond of two people who are like siblings. Whatever.
Pavia is intense, and he's often the one pushing the line between what's acceptable and what isn't when it comes to your boundaries, but in the end? He's the one waiting to learn what's okay and what isn't, because he knows his own limits and isn't afraid of enforcing them, but he doesn't know yours.
You could literally start walking around naked around the house and Pavia wouldn't give a single fuck about it, wouldn't even question it - you do you, he's fine with that. Now he knows he can do that too if he feels like it. You could drag a dead body through his doorstep and he'd ask where you'd like to bury it or if you brought it back because you feel like committing cannibalism that night, while reminding you to not get his new shirt dirty or he'll beat your ass. He doesn't care, doesn't shy away from it. You can tell him to never touch you, and he'll do his best. You can make out with him just for fun, with no changes whatsoever to the dynamic you have. You could bite off a chunk of him or try to kill him just to see if you can. You could tell him your deepest secrets one night or never share a single detail about your past. Who cares. As long as this mutual trust is there, it's fine.
But the second you put a name or try to label this bond you two share? To try and categorize it into something that's neat and perfect and convenient for society to understand? That's where Pavia draws the line, the only way he could possibly feel betrayed.
Which loops back to Pavia being someone who can only be loved at a distance, because not many are willing nor ready to become part of a relationship that's impossible to explain. It's either all or nothing with him!
#reverse 1999#reverse: 1999#r1999#reverse 1999 x reader#r1999 headcanons#reverse 1999 pavia#headcanons#pavia#these posts are written to be read vaguely as in. its not strictly romantic nor platonic. these interactions can be whatever you want#especially with that part at the end#i just really love unconventional relationships that are so messy and blurry and inexplicable#and i feel those line up well with a character like pavia. who is such an unconventional guy#you could look at him in the eye and say that youre using him for whatever. but if theres that trust and bond there? hes fine#he can call you a shithead and you two can be openly hostile and violent with each other. but if theres that trust. its fine#he'd still priotize you over everyone#when i talked about the loss of humanity I MEANT IT
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I’m still so fkn unbelievable angry that ppl sided with jung over Inho and Inha and saw them as the ones in the wrong over that psychopathic dickhead ugly fucking bastard he would’ve killed them if he could and how tf do they think it’s a misunderstanding that inho believes he made that chopin guy hate him enough to retaliate when he reacted like he did after he fkn obliterated his hand and his life the one reason jungs father was holding inho so close
#fucking shithead and stupid ass readers#idk why I decided to reread this stupid ass WEBTOON#cheese in the trap
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really grateful for the unusually good weekend I had because the positive experiences have insulated me from wanting to k*ll myself over how shit today is going
#started my day having to request an opt-out on Updates re: Shithead Who Made My Life Hell from an acquaintance who also knew them#and who basically only messaged me to complain about them (God willing I just put a stop to that)#then I clock in and I'm on phones all day#reader... I work a ten hour shift...#by the grace of God I've only had four people who were brain-snarling levels of dumbass so far but I am Not having a good day
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