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#so that people can freely skip it
ikemenomegas · 1 year
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Itachi Uchiha x Reader
Fear is the mind killer (1)
cw: navel gazey fake sherlock holms bullshit, set in the omegaverse although that's largely irrelevant to plot, alpha!reader, this oc suffers from a good amount of justified paranoia, also warning for attempts to be realistic about the whole child-soldier thing
A better member of the village would have put it all behind them, the whole sordid affair of one of the village's founding clans, a noble clan, being all but wiped out in a night.
It was an act of madness, of power, sometimes seen in the shinobi world. In a single night, the entire clan, fair and shrewd, cruel and arrogant, kind and dedicated, had been made martyrs.
Everyone except the eldest son of the clan head, who was now a villain, and the youngest son of the same, who was now a victim.
If anyone else was stunned into denial and disbelief they, like you, kept their silence. If this was the work of an enemy then it was one that was strong enough only the highest ranking members of the village would know much about it. If it was, more terrifying, the work of a supposed friend to the village, then there was something rotten in the roots of Konoha's great tree.
If it was truly madness, part of you didn't wonder if maybe the village deserved its grief. Itachi had had friends, or at least people who considered themselves his friends. He was an ANBU, one who waded into the dark. Those around him should have never let things get this far.
There was no funeral, which would have been the choice of the last village-bound Uchiha.
Still for there to be no public memorial for a founding clan was strange.
It would have been Uchiha Sasuke's choice, but you wished someone had counseled him to make a different one, even if it would dredge up painful memories. The completely silent and echoing absence of a whole clan in the village was resounding.
The knowledge of who had done it - the jounin and chunin were all whispering about it, it was impossible to keep secret and the village had given up trying almost before it had began - felt like the aftermath of a punch pulled right before it hit your nose.
You suspected you weren't alone in feeling like the massacre being just the Uchiha had been a near miss.
Your mind craved distraction from its own grief, and for better or worse, any information about the event was placed into some box in your mind like sweeping up the shattered remains of a vase. And like broken porcelain, it rattled when you walked with it.
It rattled when villagers fell suddenly silent at odd moments in their own conversations, whether what conversation you heard had seemed to hint at ill will or sympathy towards the Uchiha.
It rattled when you realized it was the forty-ninth day after the massacre and while your steps had taken you past the village's largest temple, your fear of being watched - you had after all been one of the friends (or at least acquaintances) of now traitor Uchiha Itachi - kept you from going inside.
It rattled whenever you caught sight of the other clan heads, distant and alone or with a cohort of vassal clan members and trusted guards, and wondered what they made of the event. What did they think of the lack of response from the village? What did they make of the power vacuum?
You walked back to your apartment in silence after leaving your teammates each day, the back of your neck prickling.
Most jounin sensei preached against fear. It froze the senses or focused them without the benefit of incorporating other information. Your sensei was a beta woman from no clan lineage in particular who had taken one look at your team, fresh out of the academy, in the middle of a village still somewhat resentful of how it was still rebuilding itself after being trampled on by a hundred meter chakra monster, and told you all that fear, like pain, meant something was wrong.
Sometimes it could be ignored or fought through to be dealt with in the future. Sometimes it was telling you something important about yourself or your environment.
As fear was in the mind, however, it liked to be more difficult to deal with than pain. It was the shinobi's responsibility, she counseled, to discern when your body was being reasonably ridiculous about it (like when your teammate put a thorny beetle down the back of your collar), or when it could put you in danger.
Such as would be the case for one trapped in a potent genjutsu. Or one of likely a number being watched for their response in the aftermath of a local upheaval.
Everyone seemed to be watching with bated breath to see if anyone else would do something. You had no idea what would happen if someone decided to break rank. The enemy on the other side of the field was entirely obscured.
Or at least they were trying to be.
You went to training and returned home day by day with only the varied and mindless sort of wandering someone both surprised and grieving might do.
The pieces rattled around as you sifted through them, thoughtlessly tracing the edges.
There was a formation among many others that your sensei had laid before your team. Shinobi had many ways of laying traps for their enemies, and for those they were not sure yet were enemies.
Nagano Botan was a branch member of the Akimichi family and blessed with the corresponding large build and large chakra reserves. He was the center of a strategy in your team that involved his intentionally neglecting to suppress his chakra if you suspected yourselves being monitored. The enormity of his natural power effectively drowned out the other chakra signatures in close proximity so that a typical sensor who wasn't sure what they were looking for could underestimate your team's number or miss a position.
It also had the secondary effect of intimidation. There was less likelihood of an attack from those without enough information if they thought they were outclassed to begin with.
This plan didn't work all the time, but it worked often enough on simple protection missions where the enemy were hill bandits or mountain bandits or simply cowards that the technique was taught to genin.
Sometimes the best defense was a distraction. It aligned at least with the philosophy of those whose job it was to be a constant and possible threat, lurking in the dark.
You frowned to yourself. ANBU was about as deep as the shadows got but there hadn't been any other announced defections from the village in the same week or even month.
There had been very ostensibly nothing else happening at all.
Not that you would know what was happening, you thought sourly, pulling your mind back to the exercise at hand.
Your other teammate, Kuniko, was on a hidden branch practicing throwing senbon through leaves that you sent spiraling into the air
She was very good with them and it had become one of your favorite things to see a fall of steel needles coming down like rain from a direction that your enemies hadn't anticipated. She was however working on precision and you were working on control and cultivating a second chakra nature, so this resulted in you sending leaves spiraling the wrong way in relation to the ground and trying to will your chakra to split them before Kuniko could pin them through with her throwing needles.
By tally, she was winning and it seemed more and more likely that you were going end up buying her the wagered plate of sakuramochi.
It was one of the less physically demanding but mentally taxing exercises your team had in its training repertoire and you and Kuniko, who was experimenting with adjusting throwing angles with chakra threads as well, took scheduled breaks to let Botan ply the two of you with snacks and meditate in order to recenter your control and focus.
They were talking, each pressing Arakawa-sensei with questions about their individual training, while you twirled a leaf between your fingers. You were comfortable, nestled between the roots of a tree with your back pressed to its warm trunk. You were trying to sense the layers of the leaf and direct your chakra to split it that way, rather than along the main vein.
It was perhaps a tad too complicated, certainly too complicated to be useful in the field right now, but you were feeling a bit mischievous and bifurcating Kuniko's target in a way that appeared to duplicate it was tempting.
You rolled the stem between your fingers, careful to maintain the chakra-cycling breath that was the base root of this particular meditation. The leaf's top side was shiny, glossy and very green, the other less vibrant and soft, spongy. You brought it to your nose and pulled in the green growing scent. The underside prickled your skin, not as soft as you had imagined.
Kuniko was laughing at something but somehow that sound suddenly made you wary, like there was something at just that same frequency you couldn't hear.
You were careful. This feeling was not unfamiliar since the massacre. The sudden and unprovoked sense of panic, of missing something. Intentionally, you avoided catching Arakawa-sensei's eye. She would help you if it was unreasoned panic, but you felt like this was one of those thing she had mentioned.
One of those times when fear meant that something was wrong and that something important was right there, just beyond articulation, and it needed to be brought into the realm of thought before it could be dealt with.
What kind of threats were simply too deep to be acknowledged?
The kind that lived at your very back.
Kuniko called your name to begin again and you used the tree to support you when you stood and picked carefully over the grass when you walked over.
It was now time for a rotation. Botan was to practice tree walking, standing upside down or sideways in order to avoid detection, so fluid that not even a leaf would fall from the trees above. Kuniko was to try burning the leaves that did fall before you could catch them in your hand. At the same time, you were each trying to tag Botan out before he got to one of you, without being seen.
You fought back a scowl, because there was already an answer. Like a sliver of porcelain found under the wardrobe or stabbed into your palm. A shiver passed over your back when Arakawa-sensei popped up behind the two of you on the ground, a sinister warning to get out there and get started in her eyes, but the shiver stayed for different reasons.
For one, the kind of wind that promised a chill storm had kicked up, helping Botan to hide within the noise. For another, you quite literally felt like you would jump at your own shadow if the forest hadn't already swallowed it.
What kind of shadow was deeper than ANBU?
You didn't know, but you were certain that Uchiha Itachi had a good idea.
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A/n: This is the promised start to a short series that is about Itachi's Alpha's decision to go find Itachi, and their thought process in discerning what was going on behind the scenes of the Uchiha massacre. It is incredibly navel gazey and doesn't have much to do with the omegaverse apart from being set in that realm. As writer and readers I think we understand that despite the shinobi practice of treating academy graduates as adults, this does not mean that genin and advanced ranks are making completely rational/unemotional decisions. Itachi's decisions, which are focused on here, were incredibly emotional. Despite being saddled with an adult's burden and expected to make an adult's decisions, after watching and rewatching the relevant scenes of his conversations with the elders, as well as his confessions to Sasuke and others later on, I have come to a greater appreciation of the writing for those scenes(whether this is confirmation bias or truly present I don't know). Itachi's decision regarding the massacre is made based on fear, anger, desperation, love, and watching him makes his youth more obvious, even behind the reputation of his being an ANBU captain and the clan heir. The mc in this is an unreliable narrator partly due to their own age, as well as what I imagine would be incredibly stressful circumstances post-massacre. In part 1, they don't love Itachi. Yet. They just remember him. If you've had such similar experience regarding persistent thoughts about someone before, you may recognize the experience of the object of mc's thoughts becoming a kind of obsession as they replay scenes and ideas over and over. They also know that although Itachi was at a level far beyond his own peers, he was also part of their age group, which is a bit like watching one of the gifted kids go to all the advanced classes but still know they're in the same literature class as you or something. So I don't think they, starting off as a genin when this happens, has quite the understanding of ANBU to really believe that Itachi is behaving like an ANBU or jounin veteran would. Everything in this will come from the mc's point of view and they are not always aware of the assumptions they are making at every step, despite doing their best to reason things out. Importantly, they are being coached by Itachi's "voice". Some assumptions they eventually will have to admit came into being because they didn't want a friend and someone they looked up to be a murderer and leave it at that. Sometimes the things we want to be true about ourselves and other people give us blinders. Shinobi are taught to be unfeeling and told that the highest honor would be to be a perfect tool, easily molded. But we see how that works out over and over again, with Itachi, with Obito, with Kakashi, with Sasuke, with Rin, with Tsunade and so on. And we see how individual thinking or great problem solving abilities, often in the children deemed prodigies by the villages (including many of the series' missing nin), sometimes going hand in hand with a nearly curse-level ability to empathize, buts up against the shinobi ideal. After all, empathy with your enemies would make you a fantastic strategist, but only if you can also stop thinking of other people as people. For better or worse, this mc becomes aware that they are "not a good shinobi" early on, and this transforms into an internalization of a "ninja way" that is not quite in lockstep with the village policies.
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springtyme · 4 months
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𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 ♡
afab/mom!reader x Price, König, Ghost, Gaz, & Soap
tags/warnings: Some angst but mostly fluff, (like, so much fluff!) Pregnancy, mention of birth. Makes more sense if you read part one first, but can easily be read as a stand alone.
word count: 6.3k
Part two of Confessing They Want A Baby
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Price ♡
As you stand at the airport gate, holding your little boy in your arms, anticipation and nervousness consume you. This is a day you have looked forward to for a long time—the moment John returns home from deployment. It’s been a long and challenging journey for both of you, especially since John had to leave shortly after you gave birth to your son.
The airport is bustling with people, each lost in their own world of arrivals and departures. You scan the crowd, searching for any sign of John’s familiar face. Your heart skips a beat each time you see a man in uniform, but it’s never him. Doubt begins to creep in, but you quickly push it aside, reminding yourself that he’ll be here soon.
Your little boy squirms in your arms, sensing your restlessness. You adjust his blanket, feeling the warmth of his tiny body against yours. His innocent eyes meet yours, and you smile, finding solace in his presence. He is a constant reminder of the love and strength that binds your little family together.
Just as you’re about to give in to panic, you spot a group of uniformed soldiers making their way towards the gate. Your heart leaps with joy, recognising the SAS emblem on their sleeves. Among them, you catch a glimpse of John’s familiar face, his eyes scanning the crowd. 
“John!” you call out, your voice filled with relief and excitement.
He turns towards you, a wide smile breaking across his face. “Darling!” he exclaims, his voice filled with a mix of exhaustion and joy.
As he finally reaches you, you see the weariness in his eyes. “I missed you so much,” you say, tears welling up in your eyes as your husband’s strong arms embrace you and your little boy.
“I missed you and our little guy too,” he replies, his voice filled with emotion. 
You hold each other tightly, cherishing this long-awaited reunion. At this moment, time stands still as the chaos of the airport fades away. It’s just the three of you, together again, united by love and an unbreakable bond.
“I can’t believe you’re finally home,” you whisper, your voice trembling.
John pulls you even closer, his arms wrapped tightly around you and your son. “I can’t believe it either,” he  murmurs, his voice filled with a mix of relief and disbelief. “But I promised you, didn’t I? I promised I would come back.”
You nod against his chest, the tears flowing freely now. It has been a challenging six months for both of you - the sleepless nights, the endless worry, and the long distance that separated your family. But through it all, you held on to hope, to the love that strengthened your bond. You hands your little boy over to his father, letting him hold him for the first time since he was a newborn 
As John cradles your son in his strong arms, you watch their interaction with a mixture of awe and tenderness. It’s a sight you’ve longed to witness, the connection between father and son. You can see the love and adoration in John’s eyes as he gazes down at your baby boy, his fingers gently tracing the contours of his tiny face.
The fatigue from his journey is evident, but it doesn’t dampen his spirits. John’s smile remains unwavering as he looks up at you, his voice filled with gratitude. “Thank you for taking care of our little man while I was away,” he says, his voice filled with emotion. “You’ve done an amazing job, love.”
Tears stream down your face as you watch the two most important people in your life bond in this precious moment. You can’t help but feel a sense of overwhelming joy and relief. The weight of the past months slowly lifts from your shoulders, replaced by a renewed sense of hope and happiness.
“He is so wonderful, John,” you say, your voice filled with awe. “He’s grown so much since you last saw him.”
John’s eyes well up with tears as he continues to hold your son. “He has, I can’t believe how much I’ve missed,” he admits, his voice choked with emotion. “But I promise, I’ll make up for lost time.”
You smile, feeling the warmth of his words. “We are just happy to have you back again,” you assure him. 
John looks at you, his eyes filled with determination. “I’m not going away again, love, I’m retiring from fieldwork, I should have done that a long time ago, should have done that when we married,” he says, his voice filled with determination and relief. “I want to be here with you and our boy, to build a life together that we’ve always dreamed of.” 
Tears of joy fill your eyes as you embrace this news. The thought of having John by your side, no longer having to endure the hardships and uncertainties of deployment, fills your heart with an indescribable sense of happiness and peace.
“I couldn’t be happier to hear that,” you say, your voice filled with emotion. “God, John, I’ve missed you so much.”
John smiles, as he transfers your son back into your arms, a soft and tender smile that shows how much he longed for this moment as well. His strong, protective arms sneaking around you and your boy, holding you both close. “I’ve missed you both more than words can express,” he whispers, his voice filled with love.
As you leave the airport, the weight of the past months begins to lift. With your baby boy in your arms and John by your side, you walk towards a new chapter, grateful for the strength and resilience that has brought you here.
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König ♡
You let out a tired groan as you stare into the fridge. It’s 2:43 at night and you can’t sleep. You’re feeling hot and uncomfortable, and now you’re also hungry. 
You’re so done with being pregnant, having to waddle around like a penguin, your feet and back always hurting, your ankles constantly swollen, and not being able to see your own feet anymore. The weight gain feels like a burden you can’t escape, and you yearn for the days when you could move freely and comfortably and you still have two months left of this, despite looking like you could pop any minute. 
You’re pretty sure you’re already the same size as your colleague was at full term, but you also have two in there, and it doesn’t really help either that the father of your babies is a bloody mountain of a man. 
You’re always tired, and if you’re not tired then you’re hungry. König is taking good care of you though, making sure you have everything you need and indulging your cravings whenever possible. He’s been incredibly supportive throughout the pregnancy, always reminding you how beautiful you are and assuring you that he loves every inch of you, baby bump included. 
But none of that is really able to comfort you at this moment. You are so looking forward to finally meeting your little ones, and having all this pregnancy stuff be over with, but having to go through this for two more months seems like an eternity. You are so tired and you hate that you don’t feel like yourself. Your hormones are all over the place and you find yourself constantly on edge. The smallest things can set off a wave of emotions, leaving you in tears one moment and irritated the next. It’s frustrating, knowing that you can’t control these sudden shifts in mood, and you can’t help but feel like a stranger in your own body. 
There is nothing in the fridge that seems appetising to you, despite it being well stocked, and you feel how  tears are beginning to well up in your eyes. The overwhelming mix of exhaustion, discomfort, and hunger is getting the best of you. You’re just about to let out a measly sob but instead you let out a surprised shriek as a pair of big, strong arms sneak around your body. The shriek turns into a relieved sigh as Königs big palms settle at the underside of your belly, gently lifting up your heavy bump. You instantly feel the relief in your sore back.   
König’s deep voice whispers soothingly in your ear. “I woke up and you weren’t in bed. Are you okay?” 
You lean back into König’s embrace, grateful for his strong presence, both physically and emotionally. “I just couldn’t sleep,” you mutter, trying to mask the maelstrom of feelings you’re having, but failing, your voice shaking with emotion. 
“You could have woken me,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You can feel his warmth behind you, his calming presence bringing a sense of comfort to your tired body.
“I didn’t want to disturb you,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. “You need rest too.”
König’s hands continue to support your belly, his touch gentle yet firm. “Schatz, you are carrying our children,” he reminds you, his voice full of love and adoration. “Your well-being is my top priority.”
Tears blur your vision as his words wash over you, and you find yourself choked up with gratitude for this man who has been your rock throughout this pregnancy. He’s gone above and beyond to make sure you feel loved and cared for, even when the weight of it all feels overwhelming.
With a small sigh, you turn your body around to face him, resting your head against his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat against your cheek. He holds you tighter, but still being careful of your bump as he leans down to place a tender kiss on your forehead.
“I’m just so tired,” you admit, your voice trembling with exhaustion. “I feel so exhausted and uncomfortable all the time. I miss feeling like myself, and I’m tired of being so emotional. I just want this pregnancy to be over.”
König rubs circles on your back, his touch providing a soothing rhythm. “I understand,” he murmurs, his words filled with empathy. “But remember, meine Liebe, you’re growing two beautiful lives within you. Your strength is immeasurable. And when they are finally here, all of this will be worth it.” 
“Yeah, it will,” you agree. Despite all the tears, sleepless nights and sore muscles, it really is going to be worth it in the end. You take a deep breath, trying to gather yourself. “I just... I don’t feel like myself anymore,” you whisper, your voice breaking slightly. “Everything feels so different. I know it’s for a good cause, but still…”
König’s arms tighten around you, providing a sense of security. “I know it’s been tough for you,” he says softly, his voice filled with understanding. “But please remember that you can always talk to me.”
He wipes away a stray tear from your cheek and leans down to place another gentle kiss on your forehead. “I may not fully understand what you’re going through, but I will always be here to listen and support you,” he assures, his voice filled with love and reassurance.  
You are just about to answer him when you’re cut off by the beeps of the open fridge behind you. König releases his hold on you to push the fridge door close but his arms find you again as soon as the door shuts. 
“We don’t have any food, by the way,” you murmur into the soft cotton of his t-shirt. 
König chuckles softly, his deep voice rumbling against your cheek. “I don’t know if that’s really true, Schatz.” 
“Well, we don’t have the right food,” you retort, letting out a small sigh. König’s arms tighten around you, bringing you closer to him. 
“Would ice cream be the right kind of food right now?”
“It would, but we don’t have any,” you sigh, nuzzling yourself into his broad chest. 
“Yes, we do,” he hums. “I bought some more yesterday.” 
Your eyes widen in surprise as you look up at him, a mixture of disbelief and delight washing over you. “Really?” you ask, a glimmer of hope in your voice. 
“Yeah,” he chuckles, clearly amused by your reaction. “I knew you’d crave it sooner or later, so I stocked up.” You can’t help but smile at his thoughtfulness as König releases you from his embrace and walks over to the freezer, rummaging around before emerging with a tub of your favourite ice cream flavour.
He returns to you, a triumphant smile on his face, and hands you the tub of ice cream along with a spoon. You can’t help but let out a small laugh, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over you. 
“Thank you, König,” you say sincerely, taking the tub of ice cream from him. “You always know how to make things better.”
He smiles warmly, his eyes filled with love and adoration. “It’s the least I can do, my love,” he replies, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your temple. “Seeing you happy and comforted is all I want.”
You waddle into the living room and settle back into the sofa, snuggled close into König’s side, and as you take your first bite of ice cream, snuggled up against the giant man beside you, you can feel the stress and exhaustion slowly melting away, as you rest your head on his broad shoulder.. 
As you continue to eat, König wraps his arms around you, his presence providing a comforting stability. The two of you chat softly, sharing light-hearted moments and making plans for the future. It feels like a respite from the weight of the pregnancy, and you find yourself able to let go, even just for a little while.
You’re so grateful for this moment of solace and for the unwavering support König has shown you throughout the pregnancy. Together, you finish the tub of ice cream, savouring every last bite. As you place the empty container aside, König pulls you closer, his arms enveloping you in a warm embrace.
“Thank you for being there for me,” you whisper, feeling a sense of peace wash over you.
He presses a gentle kiss to your temple, his voice filled with love and tenderness. “Always, meine Liebe. Always.”
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Ghost ♡
As you sit in the car, your heart swells with a mix of emotions. The exhaustion from giving birth to your beautiful baby girl still lingers, but so does the overwhelming joy and love that fills every inch of your being. Next to you, Simon grips the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white as he slowly drives the car forward at a much slower pace than the speed limit. The weight of responsibility rests heavily on his shoulders, and you can see the mixture of excitement and nervousness in his brown eyes.
You can’t help but smile as you look at him, his blond hair tousled and his strong jawline set with determination. You reach over and place your hand on his, intertwining your fingers. “We’re really parents now,”  you say softly, the reality of it sinking in. 
Simon glances at you, his lips curling into a tender smile. “Yeah, we are,” he replies, his voice filled with both awe and disbelief. “I can’t believe she’s ours.”
“I can, she looks so much like you,” you say with a soft smile on your lips, constantly stealing glances at the tiny bundle of joy in the rearview mirror, marvelling at her delicate features.
As the car moves along the familiar streets towards home, you can’t help but notice how the people outside are going about their daily routine, seemingly completely oblivious to the life-altering event that has just taken place in your little world. The inside of the car being your own little cocoon of love. You can’t help but reflect on the journey that brought you here. From the moment you found out you were pregnant and telling Simon, to the hours of labour and delivery, it’s been a whirlwind of emotions and anticipation. And now, you’re finally taking your little girl home, to start a new chapter of your lives together.  
As you pull into the driveway, Simon turns off the engine and looks at you, his eyes filled with a mix of love and concern. He unbuckles his seatbelt and reaches over to unbuckle yours, his touch gentle yet reassuring. “Are you okay?” he asks softly, his worry evident in his voice.
You smile gratefully at him, nodding your head. “I’m tired, but I’m okay,” you reply honestly. “Just a little sore and adjusting to everything.”
Simon nods understandingly, his thumb gently brushing over your cheekbone. “You were amazing,” he whispers, his voice filled with admiration. “I’m so proud of you.”
Tears well up in your eyes at his words, overwhelmed by the love and support he continues to provide. Becoming parents had not been planned, but it was the best surprise life had thrown at you.  
Simon opens the car door and steps out, walking around the car and opening your door, extending his hand to help you out as well. As you step onto the pavement, you take a moment to soak in the warmth of the sun and the scent of blooming flowers in the air. It really feels like a perfect day to bring your little girl home. 
Together, you make your way to the backseat. In the car seat lies your beautiful baby girl, fast asleep with tiny, peaceful breaths. You can’t help but marvel at her, feeling a newfound sense of protectiveness and love wash over you.
With carefully coordinated movements, you lift your daughter into your arms, cradling her close to your chest. Simon stands beside you, his hand resting on your back as you both walk towards the front door.
Inside the house, you’re greeted by an excited bark as Riley, your furry family member, rushes to see the new addition to the pack. Simon gently scoops up your baby girl, cradling her in his arms, and introduces her to her four-legged sibling, making sure that Riley doesn’t lick or touch the baby, despite seemingly being very eager to do so. You watch with a mixture of love and pride as Simon gently guides Riley’s sniffs and licks away from your precious bundle, ensuring both the safety of your newborn and the happiness of the overjoyed German Shepherd. 
As the introductions between Riley and your baby girl continue, you take a moment to admire the scene before you. The bond between Simon and Riley is undeniable, and seeing them both showering your daughter with love fills your heart with warmth. You can already tell that they will be inseparable companions as she grows up.
As the initial excitement settles down, and your little girl has been changed and fed, you make your way to the nursery, where everything has been prepared with utmost care and love. Soft pastel colours adorn the walls, and a cosy rocking chair sits in the corner, ready to cradle you and your little one during those late-night feedings. Simon follows you quietly, his eyes still filled with awe and disbelief.
Gently, you settle your baby girl into the crib, ensuring she is comfortable and at ease. Simon watches every movement, his expression a mix of tenderness and protectiveness. Simon wraps his arms around you from behind, his warmth and presence offering you solace and support, and together, you stand beside the crib, gazing down at your sleeping angel. “We created something beautiful, didn’t we?” he whispers into your ear, his deep voice filled with awe and wonder.
Tears of overwhelming happiness escape from your eyes as you look at the little sleeping girl. “Yes, we did,” you reply, your voice barely a whisper.
Simon gently rests his chin on top of your head, his grip on you tightening slightly. “I never thought I would have this,” he confesses, his voice filled with sincerity. “I never thought I could deserve something so precious.”
You turn around in his embrace, tears streaming down your cheeks, and look into his eyes, filled with love and gratitude. “Simon, you deserve everything,” you say softly, your voice filled with emotion.  
Simon’s eyes well up with tears as well, and he presses his forehead against yours, his thumb gently wiping away your tears. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice filled with so much love it almost takes your breath away. “And I will spend the rest of my life making sure you both know how loved and cherished you are.”
You lean in and capture his lips in a tender, heartfelt kiss, sealing your love and commitment to each other and to your little family. In that moment, as your lips meet and the world fades away, you know that everything will be alright. As you break the kiss, you rest your forehead against Simon’s chest, relishing in the closeness and connection you share. “I love you too,” you whisper, your voice filled with an unwavering certainty. 
“Thank you for having given me this, sweetheart,” Simon whispers, his voice choked with emotion.
You look up at Simon, a soft smile playing on your lips. “You’re welcome,” you say sincerely. “I couldn’t wish for a better man to do this with.”
Simon pulls you into a tighter embrace. He leans down and kisses the top of your head. “I wouldn’t have wanted to go on this journey with anyone else,” he murmurs, his voice filled with warmth and sincerity. You close your eyes, resting your head against his chest again, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your cheek.  
As you stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the room fills with a peaceful silence. The sound of your baby’s gentle breaths lulls you into a state of tranquillity, and you can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of contentment and gratitude for everything that has brought you to this moment.
With a newfound sense of peace, you both turn your attention back to your daughter, who is still sleeping soundly in her crib. The room is filled with a serene calmness, and you can’t help but marvel at the little miracle that is your daughter, and the love you and Simon share.
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Gaz ♡
“Babe!” your voice echoes through the flat. “Babe, quick, quick, come!” 
“What, what! Is everything okay!?” Kyle comes running into the living room, his eyes blown wide as he looks at you with a worried expression. He has always been a little overprotective when it comes to you, but it has reached a whole new level after you found out you were pregnant. 
Now, at a little over four months, you have started to show, not by a whole lot but enough for you to finally look pregnant, which only has made Kyle’s protective instincts kick into even higher gear, he won’t even let you carry your own purse when you walk up the stairs to your flat anymore, you can’t even imagine how he’ll be when you enter your third trimester, but you know that he only means well, and you do find it cute how much he worries about you and the baby. He is so excited to be a dad and you love seeing him embrace this new role. 
You can’t believe that it was only a year ago he accidentally confessed that he wanted to have a family with you, and last week you found out that you’re having a little baby boy. The sonogram of your little bean now hangs on the fridge and you have caught Kyle looking at them with a mixture of awe and anticipation many times throughout the past week. It warms your heart to see the love and excitement radiating from him whenever he catches a glimpse of those sonograms.
But now, as you beckon him urgently, his worry is etched all over his face. You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart before speaking. “He kicked!” you exclaim, your voice filled with a mix of excitement and disbelief. Both your hands placed at your slightly protruding belly you look up at him with teary eyes and a smile threatening to split your face in half . 
Kyle’s worried expression instantly turns into one of sheer amazement. He takes a step closer to you, his hand trembling as he reaches out to touch your belly.
“He kicked?” Kyle repeats, his voice filled with awe.
You nod, your own excitement beginning to overflow. “Yes, just now! It was like a little flutter, but it was definitely a kick!” you confirm, feeling another surge of emotion welling up inside you. This moment, this connection with your baby, it’s everything you’ve been waiting for. “Our little guy is definitely making his presence known.”
Kyle’s eyes well up with tears as he gently rests his hand on your belly. He places a soft kiss on your forehead, his voice filled with overwhelming joy. “That’s our boy, already letting us know he’s here. I can’t believe it.”
You wrap your arms around Kyle, feeling a surge of happiness flowing through both of you. It’s a moment you’ve been eagerly awaiting, the first tangible connection with your unborn child. The months leading up to this point have been filled with anticipation and wonder, and now, with this simple kick, it feels like everything is falling into place.
As you both stand there, basking in the joy of the moment, you can’t help but reflect on how far you’ve come. From that accidental confession a year ago to now experiencing the first movements of your baby, it feels like such a beautiful journey of love and growth that is just about to grow even deeper.
“He’s going to be so loved, Kyle,” you say softly, your voice filled with tenderness as you look deeply into his eyes. “And he’s going to have the best dad in the world.”
Kyle’s face lights up with a mix of emotions - pride, happiness, and a touch of nervousness. “I hope I can live up to that,” he admits, his voice tinged with humility. “But I promise you, I will always strive to be the best father I can be. Our little boy will never doubt how much he is loved.”
You lean in closer, brushing your lips against his in a gentle kiss. “I have no doubt about that,” you whisper, feeling overwhelmed with love for both Kyle and the baby growing inside you.
Kyle chuckles as you break the kiss, a mixture of pride and adoration shining in his eyes. “And he’s going to have the most amazing mom, someone who will love and protect him every step of the way.”
With a smile, you rest your hand on top of Kyle’s, pressing it gently against your belly. “We created this little miracle together,” you say, your voice filled with awe. “And now, we get to watch him grow and I can’t wait to witness the beautiful person he will become.”
Kyle’s eyes never leave your face as he listens to your words. “I can’t wait either, thank you so much for giving me this, I’m so grateful for you,” he says sincerely, his voice laced with emotion.
You are just about to open your mouth to answer him, to tell him how grateful you are to have him, but you stop up your eyes widening with surprise, Kyle’s beautiful mahogany eyes mirroring yours. Your little boy just kicked again, this time even stronger than before and his tiny foot had aligned perfectly with where Kyle’s palm is resting against your tummy.   
You both gasp in amazement, feeling the undeniable connection between you two and your son. It’s as if your souls have already intertwined, creating a bond that will last a lifetime. Tears stream down your face as you witness the look on Kyle’s face as he feels his baby move for the first time, overwhelmed with emotions you can’t quite put into words.
A mixture of awe and disbelief radiates from Kyle’s expression as he looks down at your belly, feeling the strength of your son’s kick against his hand. “Did he just..?” he whispers, his voice filled with a mixture of wonder and excitement.
You nod, tears of joy streaming down your face. “Yeah, he did,” you reply, your voice trembling with emotion. “I think our little boy wanted to say hi to his daddy,” you sniffle.
A radiant smile spreads across Kyle’s face, his love and amazement shining in his eyes. “Is that right, buddy?” he says, his voice full of affection. “You’re already showing us how strong and determined you are. We’re so proud of you, little one.”
He kneels down in front of you, placing gentle kisses on your belly. He whispers sweet words to his unborn son, promising to be the best dad he can be and vowing to protect him with all his might. It’s a beautiful sight, and it makes your love for him grow even stronger.
In this moment, you know that the love between you and Kyle will only continue to grow, nurtured by the beautiful bond you are forming with your unborn child. And as you stand there, you can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the incredible journey you are embarking on as parents. 
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Soap ♡
You stand at the threshold of the living room, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you take in the heartwarming scene before you. The last sunlight of the day spills through the window, casting a gentle glow across the room, and there, on the middle of the carpet stands Johnny, tenderly cradling your precious little two-month-old daughter in his strong arms. 
You watch as Johnny softly hums a lullaby, his voice soothing and comforting as he gently sways back and forth. Your daughter, oblivious to the world around her, nestles contently against his broad chest, her tiny fingers curling around his shirt.
Mesmerised by the enchanting sight, you lean against the doorway, your heart swelling with an indescribable joy. You drink in every detail, the way your boyfriend’s eyes sparkle with adoration as he gazes upon the tiny being in his arms, the way his fingers carefully trace the delicate features of her tiny face.
The warmth in your heart fills your entire being as you witness the immense love and adoration Johnny has for your little girl. It’s a sight that makes you realise just how lucky you are to have him by your side. The way he handles her with such care and tenderness reassures you that your daughter is safe and thriving, and that you chose the best man in the world to be the father of your child. 
The three of you are staying at Johnny’s parents house for the night. There had been a big family gathering earlier in the day, but now the last guests have left. Only you, your daughter, Johnny and his parents are left in the house, but the joyful atmosphere from the gathering lingers in the air, still infused with laughter and love. It had been the first time that a lot of Johnny’s extended family had met your daughter, and the love and excitement they had showered upon her had made your heart swell with gratitude. 
Johnny had been so proud as he introduced his daughter to everyone, beaming with pride as he showed off her tiny fingers and button nose. 
Johnny’s nephews, who have seen her multiple times before, absolutely loves her, already wanting to play with her, and showering her with affection. Noah and Oliver had taken turns holding her, their joyful laughter filling the room as they interacted with the newest member of their family. Even little Alfie, at only a year and half, had been curious about her, clearly intrigued by seeing a human even smaller than himself. It was truly adorable, and you and Hannah, Johnny’s sister in law, had laughed heartily at their interactions.     
As you stand there in the doorway, taking in the beautiful moment between Johnny and your daughter, you feel a warmth in your heart that is unmatched. It’s moments like these that make you appreciate just how fortunate you are to have Johnny by your side.
Suddenly, you hear a soft rustling sound, and you turn your head to see Johnny’s mother, Teresa, quietly walks up next to you. The smile on her face mirrors your own as she watches her son bonding with his little girl. She gently places a hand on your arm.
“Isn’t it just incredible?” she whispers, her voice filled with awe and joy. “She is so wonderful. You must be so proud, my dear.”
You meet Teresa’s eyes, feeling a lump forming in your throat. The love and admiration that shines in her gaze mirrors your own feelings. “I am,” you reply, your voice barely a whisper. “I know I’m biassed as her mother, but she really is the most wonderful little girl in the world. And I truly couldn’t have asked for a better father for her. Johnny has been so amazing.”
Teresa nods, her hand tightening ever so slightly on your arm as she looks back at Johnny, a proud and tender smile gracing her lips. “He’s always had a big heart, but seeing him with his own child... it’s something truly special.”
You both watch in comfortable silence as Johnny continues to sway and hum, apparently unaware that he has an audience, the room fills with the enchanting melody. The love in the air is palpable, and you can’t help but feel overwhelmed with gratitude for this precious moment. Taking a deep breath, you turn to Teresa and speak softly, “Thank you for raising such an incredible son. I really couldn’t have asked for a better family to become a part of.”
Teresa’s eyes well up with tears, and she pulls you into a warm embrace. Her voice is filled with emotion as she whispers, “No, my dear, thank you. Thank you for bringing so much happiness into Johnny’s life, and ours. You are truly a blessing, dear.”
You hold each other for a moment, basking in the love that surrounds your little family. As you break away from the embrace, you glance back at Johnny, still lost in the world of fatherhood with your sleeping daughter in his arms.
As the late evening sets in, and you and Johnny have bid his parents goodnight, you retreat to the guest room. The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a warm light on the room, creating a cosy atmosphere. You gently lay your daughter down in her travel crib, careful not to wake her from her peaceful slumber. Johnny, still beaming with love and adoration, watches the two of you with a tender smile.
Once your daughter is settled, and you and Johnny have changed and brushed your teeth, you climb into bed, snuggling close to each other.
As you lay there, Johnny reaches over and intertwines his fingers with yours. He leans in to press a soft kiss against your forehead. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice filled with a mix of affection and gratitude. You smile, feeling the same emotions swell within your heart.
“I love you too,” you reply, your voice filled with tenderness. “And I love our little girl.”
Johnny pulls you closer, his embrace comforting and reassuring. “I couldn’t ask for anything more,” he says, his voice sincere. “Everyone really loves her, huh?”
You nod with a smile, the room filled with a gentle warmth. “Yes, everyone adores her. They have good taste.”
Johnny chuckles softly, his laughter filling the room with a sense of joy. “Well, who can blame them? She is truly something special.” He brushes his thumb against the back of your hand, his touch sending shivers down your spine. “I never thought I would get her back from Maighread,” he chuckles, his voice filled with a mixture of amusement and adoration. You laugh softly, recalling how Johnny’s aunt had playfully refused to give your daughter back after holding her for the first time, claiming that she was too sweet not to keep. 
“I have to say, I’m glad she finally handed her over,” you tease, playfully nudging Johnny’s side. 
He grins, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “Yeah, she put up quite the fight. But I prevailed in the end.”
You both share a moment of lighthearted laughter before the atmosphere turns more tender. Johnny’s expression softens as he gazes into your eyes, his voice filled with unspoken love. “I’m so grateful for you, and for our daughter. I never knew I could feel this much happiness.”
You reach up and gently cup Johnny’s cheek, your touch conveying all the love and gratitude that fills your heart. “I feel the same way,” you whisper, your voice filled with sincerity. “Having you, and our little girl, has brought so much joy and meaning into my life. I couldn’t imagine it any other way.”
Johnny’s eyes shimmer with unshed tears, his voice cracking with emotion. “I promise to always be there for you both, to protect and love you with everything I have. You two are my entire world.”
Tears well up in your own eyes as you lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to Johnny’s lips. The air is filled with an electric mix of love, contentment, and a promise for a future filled with happiness. As you lay there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, you silently savour the moment, knowing that this love, this bond, is something truly extraordinary. You drift off to sleep, grateful for the blessing of having each other and excited for all the beautiful moments that lie ahead for your little family.
Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are always greatly appreciated 💕
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hanaruri-tunes · 11 months
Text
The demons’ reactions to Y/N asking them to fuck them (headcanons/short scenarios)
⚠️ As usual MDNI!!!
The MC can be whichever gender you want in this one. (Pretty sure I managed to keep it ambiguous?)
What follows are individual scenarios btw, it’s not MC asking every single one of them at the same time haha (I could write one like that as well though if people like this one? Not sure of how well it would turn out but I could.)
Anyway, enjoy 👇
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
Lucifer
He could tell something was different right away. You’re not the type to be shy with them and particularly not him. Sometimes your blatant disrespect towards him is refreshing… sometimes it’s infuriating, and yet here you are now, shifting in place, fiddling with your hands and looking down nervously. It catches his attention right away.
"Is something wrong? Y/N, if something is troubling you, you can tell me. In fact, please do so freely."
"...lease …uck me."
"...Excuse me?"
Surely he heard wrong, no matter how honest you are, there’s no way you would ask something like that with no build up-
"Please, fuck me…"
"..."
Lucifer puts his hand over his mouth, trying to hide his delight in vain. He has always wondered how to go about it, what to plan, how to charm you and get you in the palm of his hands. To think that you would come marching right ahead, falling into his hands on your own just like that. He approaches you, taking you into his arms, feeling up your body against his.
"But of course, no need to be so shy about it. Shall we go upstairs Dear?"
Mammon
Mammon felt like something was a bit different about you tonight. You kept coming closer to him, more than usual, brushing over him, smiling at him in a special way. Were you seducing him? Because if you were, it was 100% effective! But well, wouldn't it be rude to point it out? What if you stop? What if it wasn’t on purpose? So he keeps quiet and you get more and more frustrated with his inaction until it explodes.
"...Don’t you want to fuck me?!"
"Wha- Yes?!?"
Thinking twice? He didn’t even think once. He was surprised for sure but when you ask for something like this, there’s only one correct answer to give. In a flash, he pounces on you.
"Anytime, anyday, whenever you want. Please only come to me Y/N…"
Leviathan
You were harder to handle today than you usually are. Leviathan is used to holding his breath when you hug him or kiss him on the cheek. He’s used to looking away when you bend down or shutting his eyes tight when your face gets too close. But today? Today was different. You kept clinging to him, not giving him any personal space. Constantly praising and teasing him. His heart had skipped at least eleven beats in total, and even that might still be an understatement. Levi ends up breaking, asking you outright if something is wrong.
"C-Could it be that you want something from me? Sorry, I really don’t know um, if uh. Well I just don’t understand where you're getting at."
You hold back the urge to facepalm, well, it’s not like you didn’t see it coming. Leviathan thinks that he’s so unattractive that no one, and especially not you, could ever want him.
You press yourself against him, circling your fingertips on his chest.
"Jeez, you really are an idiot sometimes Leviathan… I want to fuck you. You get it now?"
His third member rises immediately at the request while his mind is still buffering.
"Uhh?? Um, y-yeah? I mean, errr. Are you like, 100- no, 1000% sure? O-Out of all my brothers me??? Isn’t that um, of course I’m not judging but maybe I’m not-"
You kiss him on the corner of his lips, shutting him up.
"I only want you to fuck me, can you do that?"
"Y-Yes. Anything you want...! ♡"
Satan
There he was again, nose stuck in his books. However your perfume caught his attention right away. You always smell nice but this fragrance was different from your usual scent. It was more mature, more seductive, more… He looks up to you, even your clothes show more than usual. Your hairstyle is different as well. Are you going out? So then why did you come to him? He coughs.
"Excuse me for staring. You look very good. Is there a soirée tonight that I’m not aware of?"
You look to the side, a bit flustered. Without a word you sit next to him on the sofa, then you slide your hand on his knee, not daring to go up to his thigh yet.
"...Would you like to fuck me?"
"..."
Silence.
He’s processing your request, making sure he understands your intentions. After a couple of seconds that seemed to go on forever, Satan closes his book and leaves it on the table. Then he leans over you, encouraging your hand to go higher on his thighs.
"Well, since you asked so politely how could I ever turn you down, hm?"
Asmo
He can tell right away what you really want since he is the avatar of lust. However he lets it play out, curious to see how you’ll go about it. Will you be all shy and cute or will you be more confident? He enjoys seeing the gears turning in your head as you’re awkwardly holding your hands together, sweating from the pressure. However he doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable when asking for something as wonderful as sex, especially with him since he is quite the fanatic.
"Relax your shoulders and breathe Y/N♡"
He places his hands on your shoulders, sliding them down your arms then going back up only to fall down again, on your back this time. He starts massaging you, whispering sweet nothings in your ears, making you comfortable and eager rather than nervous and scared.
"...Asmo?"
"Mh-hm?~"
"I’d like you to fuck me, is that okay?"
He stops, then pulls you over. Your back against his chest, he whispers his answer.
"What a coincidence, that’s what I’ve wanted to do to you since the very first time we met♡ How lucky that you asked for it first..."
Beel
Beel is devouring a rotisserie chicken in the kitchen… again. It seems like that’s all he does, everytime you want to find an appropriate moment to ask, well, it never is a good moment. You look at him, your spirits down, readying yourself to leave as usual. Surprisingly, he stops you and invites you to sit down.
"Y/N… Lately you always look sad when I see you. Would you like some? You know if you’re hungry you can always ask me to share."
"That’s not it Beel…"
You look down, discouraged from asking for it. All Beel always thinks and talks about is food anyway. Will he even care if you ask him something like that? Maybe he has no interest in such things, or in you.
Beel puts the food down, looking grim.
"Beel? What’s wrong…?"
"It’s difficult to enjoy the food when you look down, somehow even the taste turns foul when you’re sad."
Your chest feels tight at his words, maybe it would be good to just be honest and get it over with.
"Beel, truth is- Uhh. ... I want you to f-fuck me… But well, I can understand if you’re not interested in that sort of stuf-"
Beel’s eyes light up, his gaze stuck on you.
He takes you into his arms, carrying you out of the kitchen, heading up the stairs.
"B-Beel?!"
"That’s all you wanted? Should’ve said so earlier, I’ll finally be able to quench my hunger for a while."
Belphegor
You came to wake him as you do every morning, since you’re apparently the most skilled at this task according to the others. Still, some days it’s a challenge even for you. Like today for instance: he keeps complaining, bitching and moaning. You’d like to make this easy for the both of you but it’s complicated to keep finding different ways to encourage him to get up. Kisses, hugs, dates, and the exact same offers rarely work for over 3 times in a row. It pisses you off, could it be that he just got tired of you already?
You give up and lie down next to him, sulking and muttering.
"Asshole… What if I asked you to fuck me. Bet you wouldn’t even care, hm?"
Belphie’s eyes shot wide open, then he turned over to you. Extremely attentive to your every move and word.
"What was that?"
"Nothing. Only good boys who get up at reasonable times have a right to have a go at me."
He clings onto you greedily, begging you to repeat.
"Come on, pleeease? I’ll get up right away if you ask for it."
"Nope, too late to smother me now."
He puts his hand on your waist, grabbing it firmly and pulling you towards him into the bed.
"...Please? I’ll make you feel so good you’ll be the one to ask to stay in bed."
You ponder it for a bit… Well. Truthfully, you do want him so- Shyly, you ask him.
"Mh. Then um. Will you fuck me good…?"
You feel him smile against your neck, and he answers.
"I promise I won’t let you go until you’re completely satisfied with me. ♡"
☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆
Doneee.
And my askbox is open just so y’all know, no promises on anything but do know that anything you send will definitely be seen/read even if I might not be able to answer to everything! I don’t know if I can say that my "commissions" are open but if you send me ideas and I like them, there is a chance I might write some stuff based on them 🫰
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b0r3dtod3ath · 1 month
Note
Hello hi!
Can you do a challengers fic?
Art x reader, where he and reader had a flirty relationship but he started to experiment with tashi and patrick and she was like "well, it happens" but the trio didnt work out so he tried to recandle that dinamic between him and reader but she lost all the atraction to him.
(lots of groveling)
Thank you!
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Thank you for the request!
Warnings: Mention of an injury, curse words. 
You and Art have been friends since middle school and since then he was always by your side. Your shared interest in tennis and joint decision about applying to Stanford resulted in you two being inseparable best friends. Well, maybe not really. Your relationship was quite hard to describe. People constantly mistook you for a couple but in reality you were just really close. Sure, there were a lot of flirtatious moments, some may even say romantic, but you never thought about it too deeply, thinking that it’s just the way Art is. 
Each morning he knocked vigorously on your dorm room door. “You need to wake up! We need to go.” The sight that he sees when you open the door always makes his heart skip a beat. Messy hair and a toothbrush in your mouth give him a glimpse of what it would be like if he was living with you. “Good morning!” He gives you a beautiful smile as he hands you a coffee in your favorite thermos. He insists on doing it because “it saves time in the morning as he’s up anyways”. Oh and also when you finish he takes the cup back to clean it so he doesn't bother you in the morning. His friend Patrick has always made fun of him for those small gestures but he recently got a girlfriend so he’s busy. Actually, you have heard of Tashi. She attends your school and you were supposed to play against her in a local tournament. You have heard that she’s really good but people also always point out your skills.
You head to the canteen, sipping your coffee as Art tells you about Patrick’s new girlfriend. It’s not like you are jealous but hearing your male best friend ramble about another girl is weird. You keep quiet, after all there was nothing romantic between you two. You eat your breakfast without saying much which goes unnoticed to your friend. He stops eating, looking at your face for a moment, trying to figure out what’s going on in your mind “I saw they had watermelon in the fruit section. I can bring it for you if you want. Did something happen? You know you can always talk to me. I will always be there for you.” The gentle tone in his voice almost feels like he is talking to a lost child, scared to make you withdraw. “No, no. It’s fine. I’m just a bit less confident about the next match. You know, after what happened a few days ago, my leg still sometimes cramps up a bit.” you halfy make up a lie. You were stressed about the match but it had nothing to do with your calf. “You should have told me earlier. I will massage it before we train today. You are going to do amazing".
He didn’t listen to your begging not to knead your muscle so you ended up with him rubbing it firmly enough to “help you” but gently enough not to hurt you. As you trained he could sense your frustration. Sure, it made you more confident on the court as you transferred your anger into each fore and backhand. Then suddenly you stop. Your opponent gives you a confused look as you out of the blue ignore the ball. “I don’t feel well. I’m gonna call it quits. I have a test tomorrow anyway that I should study for. I can’t be hitting a ball with a racket my whole life.” you look at him, his expression as shocked as a moment ago. “See you in the evening?” You two usually had some evening tennis sessions or just went for some walks as there were not many people around that time and you could freely chat about anything. “Well. I can’t actually make it today. I’m really sorry. Patrick invited me for some drinks. He wants me to meet Tashi”. His eyes looked like they belonged to a puppy. “Oh, yea. I mean. That’s fine. See you tomorrow then.” you say without giving him the usual light hug as a goodbye.
The following morning Art didn’t knock on your door. You assumed he must have been tired from the day before but it still felt unusual. You decided to push it aside and focus on yourself and your preparations to play against Tashi. The match started at 2 pm so you still had some time to get ready. You followed your usual routine with only one exception - your regular companion. 
The tennis court simmered under the midday sun, a gentle breeze whispered through the air, carrying a promise of an intense match. It was one of the most anticipated matches of the season on the Stanford campus. It was the end of a debate of who is the best tennis player among students but most importantly it was evidence of passion for sports and competition. You looked at Tashi coming on the court, getting a bigger applause than you did. You didn’t let it bother you, it didn’t matter who was the fan favorite, it mattered who was better. You were first to serve. Silence established itself on the court, a neon yellow ball bounced a few times between your hand and the ground. You looked deeply into your opponent’s eyes. It wasn’t a game of tennis, it was a battle for dominance. 
A thunderous serve from you, the ball sliced through the air with precision. Tashi returned it with equal force, the ball skimming just inches above the net. Back and forth you played, each stroke a testament to your skill and determination. The crowd watched in silence, fully immersed in the spectacle unfolding before them. As the match wore on, the intensity only seemed to grow. Tashi unleashed a powerful forehand, sending the ball to the other side of the net. But you were quick to react, sprinting across the court with lightning speed to return it with a perfectly executed backhand. The crowd erupted into applause, recognizing the sheer athleticism on display.  The game continued in this fashion, each player refusing to give an inch. Your muscles burned like they were on fire as you chased down every shot, your mind focused solely on victory. On letting her know who Art belongs to. 
Then, in a heartbeat, disaster struck. As Tashi ran to return a particularly fierce shot, her foot slipped. Time seemed to slow as she stumbled forward, her knee buckling beneath her weight. With a sharp cry of pain, she collapsed to the ground, clutching her injured leg. She started crying like a hurt animal, unable to think what people thought of her. You stood there in pure shock, unsure of what to do. In the corner of your eye you saw Art running up to her and trying to calm her down. 
You felt really bad for her. Not liking her didn’t mean you were happy for her injury. After asking the medical team about her, you got to know that she’s waiting for an ambulance. When you found her, your heart immediately dropped at the sight of Art holding her hand. “I just wanted to say, I’m so sorry it happened, I-” you started to apologize, “Out! Out! Out!” she screamed at you “But-” you tried to say something but Art stood up “Get the fuck out!”. He had never raised his voice towards you. He was always your gentle, soft, good boy. You silently walked away as hot tears rolled on your cheeks. The echo of your sobs filled your room for the whole night. 
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For the next few weeks you didn’t see Art. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to see him, you did actually, but he was always accompanied by Tashi or Patrick. It did make you feel a bit lonely but you focused on training and improving. You actually started to do really well and moved up the rank. Despite an opportunity to get an apartment you stayed at Stanford. You told everyone that you would feel lonely living alone, but the truth was you just didn’t want to leave Art. He would still sometimes catch your glimpse across the canteen or the training hall but no words were exchanged. 
He found you one evening, your silhouette illuminated by the artificial glow of the light. You were alone, your movements fluid yet tense as you practiced your strokes with precision. Taking a deep breath, Art approached you cautiously, unsure of how you would react to his presence. "Hey" he said softly, his voice tinged with uncertainty. You turned to face him, your expression stone cold. You said nothing. A hint of bitterness in your eyes. "I-I just wanted to see how you were doing," he said, his words stumbling over each other in his nervousness. "What do you want?" you snapped, you tone sharp and cutting. Determination glinting in his eyes. "I saw you playing alone, and I thought... maybe you could use a partner," he offered hesitantly. You scoffed, your grip on the racquet tightening as you glared at him. "And why would I want to play with you?". Art took a step closer, his gaze unwavering as he met your overwhelming stare. "Because I miss playing with you, I miss you" he admitted softly. "And because I'm sorry. Truly sorry for what I did." You hesitated for a moment, your eyes narrowing as you considered his offer. “Don’t you have to take care of your little Tashi’s leg?” you said under your nose. "Fine. But don't expect too much" you warned.  
As you began to play, your movements were sharp and precise, your shots landing with deadly accuracy. Art did his best to keep up, but he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach. You had always been better than him but he could sense something else. After all, tennis was the most intimate out of all sports. Suddenly, you unleashed a powerful forehand that sailed towards Art with an alarming speed. Instinctively, he raised his racket to block the shot, but it ricocheted off the strings with a resounding thud, leaving him staggering backwards. "Are you trying to kill me or something?" he exclaimed, his heart racing as he moved closer to the net. You turned around -  a little habit you gained, you never looked at your opponent after scoring a point. "Maybe," you replied nonchalantly, your tone betraying a hint of amusement. Art chuckled nervously, rubbing his sore arm where the ball had made contact, as he got closer and closer to you. "Well, you can kill me if you want," he offered, making you chuckle. He reached to touch your hand, his expression pleading, as you turned. "Please. I know I messed up, but I can't stand not having you in my life. I... I have feelings for you. And I need you to know that. I don’t see you as just a friend." You felt your heart skip a beat at his confession, your breath catching in your throat. You had suspected as much, but hearing him say the words out loud sent a jolt of electricity through your veins. "I... I don't know, Art” you responded, torn between the anger still simmering inside you and the warmth of his words. "You ditched me for her. "Art nodded, his eyes brimming with regret. "I know. And I'm so sorry. I was weak and I thought you would never look at me the same way I look at you. I'll do anything to make it right, I swear." he got on his knees, both hands holding yours. “I will never leave your side, I will show you how much I love you and I will buy you this diamond bracelet you always wanted.” You chuckled “Art, get up. I don’t need a bracelet from you. I will give this a chance.” A smile broke across Art’s face, relief flooding his features as he reached out to wrap you in a tight embrace. "Thank you, I promise, you won't regret this." he murmured, his voice thick with emotion and eyes wet with tears. You returned the hug. The two of you swayed for a moment before you broke the silence with your dead serious tone. “Never raise your voice at me again, understand?” He looked deeply in your eyes. “Understood, maam. I’m incredibly sorry”.
April 29, 2024
713 notes · View notes
ohbo-ohno · 9 months
Text
run until you feel your lungs bleeding (ghost x reader)
summary: You're on the run after finally escaping from your abusive husband's clutches, hitchhiking south along California highways. A strange man in a black mask picks you up, and it doesn't take you long to realize that not every hand offered should be taken.
word count: 6.5k
cw: dark fic!, noncon somnophilia, referenced abuse from a past partner, ghost does not care about reader's feelings, mentioned drinking while driving but no intoxication
read on ao3 - see the pinterest board
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One of your blisters is about to burst. You’d worn through your only pair of clean socks yesterday, leaving the back of your heel vulnerable to your old tennis shoes and their vendetta against your feet. You can feel your skin rubbing thinner and thinner with each step, know it’s only a matter of time before you’ve got blood flowing freely into your shoe. 
You keep your left arm stretched out, thumb held up in the hope that someone will take pity on your limping form and give you a ride.
It’s not likely, you’ve been hitchhiking for days now and not a single person has slowed down. You’ve got no real destination, just a goal of putting as much space between you and your piece of shit ex-husband as possible. Your end goal is Arizona - you’ve got an aunt somewhere in Scottsdale, if you can get to her you can only hope she’ll help you get back on your feet.
A few people honk as they drive by. In the two days you’ve been walking, none have stopped. You take short power naps at night off the side of the road, pray to every god you can think of that you don’t get run over or eaten by something.
You haven’t yet. But you know if you don’t get a good night's sleep soon, don’t start putting actual distance between him and you, then you might not survive your escape.
The sun is at its apex when the semi-truck pulls up beside you. It’s black, the trailer attached is plain white with no logo painted on. You can hardly believe your luck, gape up at the massive thing as it slows. The door pops open a moment after the truck rolls to a stop, but it’s so high up that you can’t see who’s driving past their hand - gloved - before they pull it back.
You don’t have the luxury of asking questions. You just stumble over, flinching back with a little hiss when you place your palm on the metal of the truck and burn your hand. It takes a minute to finagle your way into the truck, but you manage it eventually, huffing and puffing all the way up. 
The first thing you notice about the man in the driver’s seat is his size - he’s big. Bigger than any man you’ve seen before. You just reach his shoulders even with both of you sitting down, his legs are spread so wide his knees nearly rest on his door and the gearshift, his head is close to brushing the roof. He’s just… big.
He’s wearing a black neck gaiter pulled up to cover his mouth and nose, which strikes you as odd considering he’s driving on his own, but you brush the thought off. His hair is blond, greasy and limp on his scalp, you doubt he did more than run his fingers through it getting out of bed. His eyes are blue, a light shade that surprises you for some reason. You don’t know a thing about this man, certainly not enough to be surprised by anything about him, but the blond hair and the blue eyes… it doesn’t quite fit with the black gloves and the mask.
He’s reclined back in his seat, one hand resting on the wheel and the other on his thigh, eyes scanning you like a king his subject. His eyes linger on your tiny shorts (sleep shorts, what you’d been wearing the night of your escape), skip right past the sluggishly bleeding scrapes on your knees and scan your ratty backpack.
You hope he won’t ask you to empty it. You’d like to keep your gun for as long as possible, can’t imagine this trucker would be ok with the hitchhiker he just picked up having a loaded weapon.
He doesn’t speak when he finally makes eye contact with you. You can’t hold it for long at all, only manage a few seconds before you’re glancing around his truck.
He doesn’t speak. Neither do you.
His car reeks of smoke. There’s a beer bottle in his cup holder, open and helf empty. There are more bottles - empty - by your feet. He doesn’t have the radio playing.
When you look back at him, his eyes are already trained on yours. You can’t help but flinch - the intensity of his gaze feels suffocating, even after only a few seconds of being held under it.
You work up the nerve to speak, take a few deep breaths and a few more long looks around the truck, the space this man spends most of his days in.
There are cigarette stubs on the dashboard, which has clearly been used as a makeshift ashtray. The seats are old, the leather peeling and tempting you to pick, and the dash itself is sunbleached.
“I’m trying to go to Arizona,” you finally say, flickering your eyes quickly to his and away again. His jeans are worn - but naturally worn, like he’s had them for months and washed them so many times they’ve lost their color. “Are… are you heading that direction?”
You look at him long enough to see him incline his head a bit. You don’t think he’s blinked since you got in the car.
“Goin’ south,” he affirms. His voice is a low grumble, British accented. Not necessarily unsurprising to hear in California, but a shock from a truck driver. “I’ll drop you somewhere along the way.”
He pulls away from the shoulder with that and turns away from you, apparently finished with the interaction. 
Being dropped somewhere along the way isn’t necessarily your ideal situation, but your feet scream in relief at the lack of pressure, so you’re certainly not going to complain.
You shift a little further back in your seat, tuck the backpack between you and the passenger door. He could reach it if he wanted, but keeping yourself between this stranger and your prized possessions feels like the right choice. You think about propping your feet up on the dashboard, but decide you don’t want to seem too rude to your apparent savior.
You look out the window. You’ve never been in a car this high, and even the flat California highways look more interesting at a new vantage point. It’s easier to focus on the far-off mountains than the giant beside you.
“So,” you cough lightly, awkward in the relative silence of the truck. The engine is loud, but the driver’s radio is dead silent. “What’s your name?”
He grunts, gives no other response. You glance over to him, a little unsure of yourself. Had you made that bad of a first impression somehow?
He doesn’t turn to you, and he doesn’t answer your question.
Alright, you tell yourself. Maybe he does this all the time, maybe he’s tired of making small talk with homeless and desperate hitchhikers. That’s probably it.
You don’t give him your name. Instead, you tuck your feet up to the seat beneath your thighs, turn your body fully to the passenger window, fold your arms on the windowsill and lay your chin on your elbows.
The drive is smooth enough for you to relax, even though you know that logically you shouldn’t. You’re a young woman who’s just gotten into a car with a strange and intimidating man who could very clearly physically overpower you. Nobody knows where you are. You should have a hand on your gun already, ready for anything the driver might try.
But you’ve been walking for days, and hadn't been sleeping well before that either. You haven’t had a good night’s sleep since your wedding night. The low rumble of the engine, the heat of the sun beaming through the glass, the surprisingly gentle motions of the truck…
You don’t quite let yourself fall asleep, but it’s a near thing.
———————————————————————
The two of you stay like that for hours. Your benevolent driver seemingly comfortable in his silence with you drowsy and relaxing in his passenger seat. You don’t stay in the same position for more than an hour or two at once, shifting your legs and always keeping any pressure off your feet.
You’d like to pull your shoes off, to ask if the man has any band-aids. Maybe any food, any water. But you can’t risk pissing him off, not when your other options are nonexistent. So you settle for slow movements, trying to keep your blisters from being irritated.
He finishes his beer before the first hour has passed with you in his vehicle. Waits another two to have a second. You don’t comment on it, but the scent makes your lip curl, and you bury your face in your arms to hide the reaction. You hope he’s not a lightweight. And despite the heavy stench of cigarette smoke sunken into the interior, he hasn’t had one yet. 
He’s the one who speaks next.
It’s a quarter until 6, and the sun has started her slow journey to sleep. You’ve been watching the sight for a while, entranced by the slow process with nothing else to amuse you.
“Pullin’ off,” he grunts.
You can’t help but jerk up straight at the sound, caught off guard. You’d nearly forgotten about his accent, about how deep his voice really is.
“For gas?” You ask, turning in your seat to glance at him for the first time in at least an hour. He only grunts again, a noise you’re just going to assume means yes. 
“Alright,” you nod, letting your feet drop to the floor from where you’d crossed them beneath yourself. “Are you… do you want me to find someone else to ride with?” You cross your fingers where you tuck them beneath your thighs, pray to every god you know of that he doesn’t make that yes grunt again.
He looks over to you this time, and the two of you make eye contact for the first time since you’d gotten into the car nearly six hours ago. His eyes are brighter than you remember, and the impact of them sends a jolt up your spine.
You’re not sure how long he looks at you. You feel stuck under his gaze, a little wide-eyed prey animal spotted by a predator who can only lay still and hope they move on. You’ve never felt quite so pinned before, quite so unable to break eye contact. You don’t think you like it.
He looks away first, shifts in his seat and drops one hand from the steering wheel to lay on his thigh. You swallow at how tight his jeans are, how his thighs seem to nearly bulge from them. 
“No,” he finally answers. It takes a moment for you to remember your own question, but your sigh of relief is loud once you do.
If you’re lucky, he’ll try and drive through the night. Dangerous, since it’ll make for nearly twenty-four hours on the road, but you’d rather take your chances with him than falling asleep at the wheel then spend another night staring into a dark forest and wondering if there are wolves in this part of the country.
He turns off the highway three exits later, pulls his truck into the first reststop. It’s the only structure in the nearby area, a McDonald’s-Subway-Shell mix with ten pumps, less than half with someone using them. It’s the kind of rest stop you’ve seen on countless roadtrips, one that you know exists off half the exits in the States. The familiarity of it makes your lips twitch up in the corners.
There are several other semi-trucks pulled up getting gas, none quite the size of your driver’s. He parks quickly and easily, in one try, and turns the truck completely off. You shift a little in your seat, unsure what he’ll want from you, but he’s hauled himself up and out of the truck before you can open your mouth to ask.
You settle a bit. He’d said he wouldn’t make you leave but you still can’t fully relax for some reason, can’t bring back the looseness to your shoulders you’ve had since he picked you up. You entertain yourself by watching a middle aged couple try and wrangle six kids that look like they’re all under ten, since I’m sympathy when the littlest one’s face goes red and he starts to wail.
The door next to you opens without warning. You manage to catch your bag before it can go tumbling out of the car, can’t hold back the little yelp of surprise. Your eyes are wide, fingers holding tight to the bag, when you look up through your hair.
The driver’s face looks the same as it has for the last six hours - expressionless. Even with the mask, surely his eyebrows should move at least a bit? He looks almost like a corpse above you - pale face and flat features. It unnerves you. 
“Gettin’ food. You got money?”
You hesitate for a moment - you do have money, small bills you’d snuck from your husband’s wallet that you’d planned to use for a bus ticket. You’re not starving yet, the few granola bars you’d taken in your escape will tide you over for a little while longer.
You shake your head.
He nods, like he’d expected that, and glances over your form from head to toe again. “Alright. You want somethin’ to eat, now’s your chance. We’ll be back on the road for another few hours before I stop for the night.”
With that he turns away, jumps down to the parking lot and stalks off toward the McDonald’s. It takes you a minute to follow him, still a little shocked that you’d gotten multiple sentences from him at once.
The thought of free food is far too tempting to let you linger for too long, though, and you’re throwing your bag over your shoulders and scampering after him only a moment later. You have to trot a little awkwardly to keep up with his long strides. He doesn’t hold the door open for you, but you catch him glancing over his shoulder to see if you’re there.
The teenager working the register looks like it’s their first day, and you assume a middle-aged man leaning against the counter beside her is meant to be showing her the ropes. He’s far more occupied with whatever’s on his phone screen, leaving the cashier to stare up at your driver with wide eyes.
You get it. Standing next to him now, you decide he’s not big - he’s huge. Has to be at least six and a half feet tall, and at least a foot taller than you. Combined with his muscular form - another odd thing for a truck driver - and his all black attire, he seems almost like some sort of monster or omen come to warn about the future.
You step up to the counter beside him, give the cashier your best reassuring smile when she glances at you. It gives her enough courage to stumble over, “Welcome to McDonald’s, what can I get you today?” after only a few stuttering starts. You’re quite proud of her.
“Five Big Macs and fries. No drink.” The man rumbles, his mask umoving. He glances down at you, finally cocks an eyebrow (an expression!) for you to order.
“Uh, just… just ten nuggets for me,” you smile at the cashier, glance up at the driver to make sure you haven’t somehow ordered too much. “And, uh, a Coke?”
“Will that be all for you today?”
“Make it a twenty nugget meal,” your partner corrects, then pulls a worn leather from his back pocket and pays with a shiny card. You can’t help but eye the many bills folded neatly in the wallet.
“Thanks for the upgrade,” you say as the two of you slide onto a pair of stools to wait for your food. “I really appreciate it. I, uh, I can’t pay you back, though.”
He glances at you again, holds you pinned under his gaze and kicks your heartbeat up a few notches. It becomes a conscious effort to keep your breathing steady when he spreads his thighs enough to brush against yours. 
“Don’t worry about it.”
Your meal is largely silent. He all but inhales three of his five burgers, leaves the other two wrapped up presumably for later on the drive. You try and eat all of your nuggets and fries, but your granola bar diet of the last few days means your stomach feels stretched to his limit only a few bites into the meal.
After your fifth nugget, you tuck the little box closed. Shift towards your driver and glance up from the window you’d been staring out to see him already looking down at you.
You clear your throat, take a little sip of your Coke. “I’m done.”
He shakes his head once, reaches forward to pop the little box back open. “No, you’re not. We’re not getting back on the road ‘til you eat at least half.”
You can’t help but blink in surprise at him, not moving to take any more food. He won’t tell you his name, won’t make any small talk whatsoever, but he will worry about how much you’re eating?
He grunts when you don’t make a move to listen to him, pushes the little brown box closer to you. “C’mon. Eat.”
You get through another five under his eye. He doesn’t look away from you, and now you know about the stare. It feels heavier now, like every little twitch from you is catalouged by him. It makes every bite difficult to swallow.
He nods when you tuck the little box closed again, glance a bit wearily at him to make sure he’s content now. He picks up your tray, tucks his two sandwiches in one hand, and leaves. You scramble to keep up.
His strides are a little shorter in the parking lot this time, and the slower pace keeps your blisters from further irritation. You’re not sure it’s intentional, but you’re thankful nonetheless.
The truck is still difficult to get into, but the worn leather seats are a familiar comfort now. This time, your driver flicks on the radio as he pulls out of the rest stop.
For some reason, you feel like maybe he likes you. There’s something in the line of his body that feels a little softer now, the tension in the truck feels a little drained. It could be the music, but you prefer to think that he’s taken a bit of a liking to you. It means he’s less likely to end up hurting you, means you're less likely to have to rely on your non-existent shooting skills.
With the sun nearly fully set and the soft music from the radio, it’s much harder to keep yourself awake. You curl up in the seat, lay your head down on folded arms, and try your best to keep your eyes open.
———————————————————————
You don’t know how long it’s been when you wake up.
The truck is silent now, no engine and no radio, and the world outside is pitch black. You jerk up at the realization, quickly lay a hand on your bag and turn to your driver.
He’s staring at you. You nearly yelp in surprise, bite your tongue so harshly to keep the noise back that you taste the tang of iron.
He looks nearly inhuman in just the low light of the truck. Pale skin, blonde hair, blue eyes, a dark black mask obscuring half of his face. His body is turned towards you, black shirt and dark pants making him look almost like the top half of his face is just… floating. 
“I need to sleep,” he rumbles, keeping you held captive in what almost feels like a staring contest - like if you look away now, you’ll lose something. “You can take the bed in the back.”
That gets your heartbeat quickening, the thud of your pulse loud in your own ears. “Oh… I thought…” you swallow, finally tear your eyes from his to look around. You seem to be at another rest stop, this one a small dark building with two bathrooms and a few vending machines. There aren’t any other trucks parked around you. “I thought I might try and find a motel or something.”
“With what money?”
He’s got you there. You work your tongue against the roof of your mouth, clear away the blood and try to make your mouth not so bone-dry. “Yeah,” you nearly whisper, eyes darting back to his before away again. He hasn’t moved. You clear your throat before speaking again. “But, uh, I don’t want to kick you out of your bed. I can sleep up here.”
“You’ll take the bed,” he reaffirms, with no room for argument in his tone. You can’t help but feel like there’s something more here, like you’re missing something. You don’t feel safe anymore, not like you had after the McDonald’s. Why did you let yourself fall asleep? You could have pressured him to pull off somewhere with a motel, tried to finagle or scam yourself into a room with a lock on the door.
Now you’re stuck in this dark truck, no one else but the driver around for miles.
You swallow again, force down a cough.
You don’t want to sleep in his bed. But a glance over at him tells you that’s what’s going to happen. Your driver doesn’t seem the kind of man to take kindly to disobedience.
“What’s your name?” You ask again, voice weak and quiet. For some reason, this feels important. Like a name will make him more human, easier to swallow.
He only tilts his head a little, face still stoic. “Get in bed. We’ll drive again when the sun rises.”
“Please,” you try, a hint of desperation creeping into your voice. You can’t explain it, but you need his name. Need some evidence that he’s more man than he looks. This moment feels pivotal, and there’s a little voice screaming at the back of your head that things are going in the wrong direction.
“Sleep, doll,” is all he says. His voice isn’t softer, but it’s quieter, like maybe he understands the fear coursing through you.
You squeeze your eyes shut a moment before pushing yourself up, both hands holding onto your bag - your literal only possible defense againt this man - like a lifeline. You know they’d shake if your grips was any looser.
It’s too dark to make out much in the back of his cabin. The bed is a decent size for you, but you wonder if he’s able to stretch out fully on it. You think you can see the outline of a minifridge and a few books resting on the floor. 
He’s still watching you as you sit on the bed, his body unmoved but his head turned towards you. You try to keep your breathing steady as you toe your shoes off, tuck your feet up to the bed with you and curl up on your side.
The bag doesn’t leave your arms. His eyes don’t leave your form. He makes no move to stretch out and sleep like he’d said he would.
You force your eyes closed, no matter how wrong it feels. You try and will yourself to sleep, tell yourself everything will be fine. If he tries anything, you’ll shoot him.
You can still feel his gaze on you when you finally slip into unconsciousness.
———————————————————————
You wake slowly to movement behind you. 
You blink heavy eyelids open, let them fall shut again when there’s no difference in what you can see.  You feel cloaked by sleep still, like your brain has been held underwater and everything moves a little slowly, a little muffled.
The bed dips behind you, and there’s a warmth behind you. A hand at your waist. The top of a foot against the sole of yours. A chest against your back.
Your eyes stay closed, but your brows furrow a bit. Your husband has always hated the idea of cuddling, slept like a corpse on his back and berated you if you dared to touch him in your sleep. You nearly roll over, but figure that might set him off. Your arms still ache from the last argument you’d had.
The hand slips beneath your shirt, rough palm against your waist, thumb smoothing in little circles.
That catches your attention, too - your husband’s hands are soft. He’s never done a day of work in his life, the only job he’s had is some fake title made up by his father at his company. The hand on your skin isn’t soft at all, it’s rough with big, thick fingers that rest heavily on you.
The realization comes to you in pieces.
Your master bedroom was never this dark, the large windows always left wide open to allow moonlight into the room. Your ex-husband’s hands are smooth, boney and nearing on frail. The foot brushing against yours triggers a burning sensation in your blisters.
You keep your breathing even - an effort that feels impossible. 
It’s not your husband at your back, it’s the truck driver.
He’s silent as he tucks himself fully to you. His breath is damp against your neck and you fight down a shudder at the sensation. 
Your bag isn’t in your arms, which means you don’t have your gun. Whatever happens, whatever he does to you, you have no way of defending yourself.
The only reason you don’t cry at the thought is because you don’t want him to know you’re awake. It’s pure self-preservation that keeps your breathing even, your limbs loose, and your breathing slow.
He brings his head closer, his breathing loud in your ear. Every part of him is pressed against you, and you can’t help squeezing your eyes shut more tightly at the hardness poking into your back.
He’s silent as he sets his chin over your shoulder. His groin is tucked right beneath your ass, his knees behind yours and his feet benath yours. He’s just… spooning you.
It feels like an eternity passes just like that. Your heartbeat pounding in every bone, the heat of the driver’s body against yours. His breath is the only noise you hear, ghosting over your ear, heavier than your own.
Eventually, he starts to move. You almost whimper when you realize what he’s doing. 
He’s humping you.
His movements are slow at first, just a little rock of his hips against you. But as the minutes pass he becomes more incensed, his thrusts harder against you, his breathing heavier. He grunts at one point, and it takes everything in you not to flinch away.
You want to scream. You want to open your mouth and shout, to roll over and make him stop.
But you don’t have your gun. And he dwarfs you, every inch of your back covered by him and then some. You can’t stop him.
So you let it happen. You keep your eyes screwed shut, try desperately to go anywhere else in your head and pretend you don’t feel how quickly his hips begin to rock.
His hand moves from your hip to your stomach, his pinky resting on the waistband of your sleep shorts. You don’t think you could stay quiet any longer if his fingers slipped beneath the hem, and you let out a near silent breath of relief when his palm continues up instead of down.
He almost rolls you onto your stomach, angles you so your front is closer to the mattress and he can grind more on you than beside you. His hand slips further up your shirt, and you bite your tongue at the feeling of his rough palm against your nipples.
That gets another huff from him, another low sound that could almost be a moan. You feel him shift again, his hips working a little more roughly. You’re not sure how he possibly thinks you’re still asleep, but you pray he doesn’t take it any further as long as he does.
He doesn’t pinch, just softly strokes over one breast. His hand engulfs it fully, fingers wrapping all the way around the little mound of flesh. The calluses on his palm send little sparks down your spine, and you curse your body for the buzzing sensation between your thighs.
His breath gets heavier in your ear, he’s nearly panting over you. If you weren’t wearing shorts and he wasn’t wearing jeans, he’d be fucking you. His thrusting almost feels like he is. The… thing grinding against you is clearly large, even through all the layers of clothing, and you say another prayer that he doesn’t do more than this.
“Fuck,” he grunts, his chin pushing hard into your shoulder. You almost jerk at the sound of his voice, the evidence that this is real and not some horrible nightmare. 
You wish you could fall back asleep.
You don’t know how long the whole thing lasts. The pitch dark, the driver’s oppressive weight against you, it makes time feel liminal. You’re not sure if he lasts for five minutes or five hours.
But eventually his hips slow, give a few harder thrusts before he goes completely still and lets out a loud groan. Again, you wonder how he expects you to have slept through the noise. 
He shifts back a little in the aftermath, rolling you back to your side with a heavy hand on your stomach. You try to keep yourself as limp as possible, try to make your face go slack.
He lays with you for a while, breathing even and slow. You wish he would leave, wish he would let you start pretending this never happened. His hand stays on your stomach, and you can feel the other crossed over his midsection at your back. His feet hold your ankles to the bed. You hope he can’t feel that you’re squeezing your hands into tight fists where they rest against your thighs.
He doesn’t leave. Instead, he shifts his own thick thigh between your own, the rough denim of his jeans irritating the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. He tucks his leg up, settles it right against your core.
You can’t help the way your breath hitches at the sudden pressure. You hold it immediately after, then try to breathe normally again when you realize how obvious the sudden change sounds. He doesn’t react, though, so you think you’re safe. 
The pressure increases a bit more before stopping. You’re almost propped up on his thigh, your pussy pressed against him through your shorts. It’s hard not to open your eyes, to look down and see what’s happening.
His hand slips down from your stomach to the waistband of your shorts. You can’t keep yourself from moving this time, already knowing what he’s going to do. You shift your hips a little, make a tiny noise in your throat that you hope comes off as a normal still-asleep sound. The movement only presses you closer to him.
He hums lowly in your ear, fingers stroking across the waistband of your shorts before dipping inside, then past your little gray panties. You can’t help the little squeak you make, the way your hands twitch before you force them still.
The sound he makes is almost a laugh, too low and quiet to really be one though. He hushes you softly, pushes on the meat of your most vulnerable part to still you. 
You don’t know if he thinks you’re awake. You think he must, there’s no way you could have slept through what he’d just done, and you’ve moved twice now. But he doesn’t speak to you, doesn’t become more aggressive.
You debate putting up a fight when his fingers sink lower, his palm resting heavily over your cunt. But the thought of him becoming rough, of him restraining you… it makes bile churn in your stomach.
You resign yourself to waiting until it’s over, go limp against the bed again.
Another hum, and his free hand moves beneath your body to grasp your hip. He moves you slowly, little grinding motions over his thigh. The hand over your heat uses two fingers to spread the lips of your cunt, tucks the gusset of your underwear and the fabric of your shorts to the side so your clit makes direct contact with his jeans.
You keen quietly at the sensation, a little animal noise of fear, of pain. You wish you had your gun, wish you could make this man stop.
But you can’t. So you bear it.
He doesn’t touch your clit with his fingers, doesn’t touch any part of your pussy but to spread you wide. His thigh moves along yours, his hand grinding you against it. You hate the slickness gathering at your hole, hate the way your nipples tighten, the way your breaths become heavier.
You bite your tongue to hold back any other sounds, that tang of blood returning after only a few seconds.
“C’mon,” he says into your neck, his voice a low whisper. “Come f’r me, doll... be good.”
You don’t want to be good, can’t suppress the little whine you make at even the thought. He rumbles low in his chest in response, pushes against you a little harder.
You can’t stay quiet through your orgasm. It’s a slow thing, rolling and deep. You feel it in your toes, in your scalp, and in every vein between. Had you been willing, been with a partner of your choice, you may have thrown your head back and cried out. But here in the truck, with this man you can’t believe you were stupid enough to trust, you squeeze your eyes so tightly shut that tears eek out the corners and bite your cheek until there’s a sore. And still, a moan vibrates in your chest.
He stops grinding you against him when your orgasm is finished. His finges slip from you slowly, tuck your panties back over your mound and give you two little pats before he fully pulls his hand away. 
Both of his hands slip back up your stomach, grab a handful of your chest and massage you there for several moments. Your breathing gradually slows as your body comes down, your limbs going limp again despite the fact that his hands are still on you.
He rolls you to your back when he’s finished. You feel his lips press against each of your eyelids, squeezed shut no matter how hard you try to force your face to relax. Another tear slips down the side of your nose, and he kisses it away before it can reach your lips. You feel his tongue stroke beneath each eye, know that he’s cleaning away your tears. He gives you a final, chaste kiss on your lips before pulling away.
He’s gone a moment later, and you’re left cold and alone in his bed.
———————————————————————
He smokes a cigarette while he watches you sleep. Your nose twitches at the first hint of smoke, and he almost smirks at the expression.
He can’t believe he found you. A perfect little doll of a girl, limping all filthy and sad along the side of a highway, just waiting for someone to scoop you up. God truly does have a sick sense of humor, gifting a bastard like Ghost a gift like you.
He hadn’t planned to keep you at first. He figured he’d ride with you for a while, fuck you a few times to have a warm place to dump his cum before dropping you off at a rest stop for another driver to scoop up. But no, that won’t do now that he’s felt your cunt against his hand, watched you try desperately to hold back every expression because you thought it might keep you safe.
He’ll have to find out where the finger-shaped bruises on your arms are from. After this trip, he’ll find whoever left them and take care of them. He’ll be the only one hurting his little doll, no one else. Might even win him a few brownie points with you, if he’s lucky.
Your feet probably need bandaging, too. He’d seen the redness at the back of your ankles when you tucked your feet up on his seats, felt the blisters against his own feet when he laid with you. He’ll make sure you stay off your feet for a bit, give them time to heal.
That gets another smirk. You won’t be leaving the truck for a long time, there’ll be no need to worry about your blisters after tonight. He’ll keep you off your feet. Maybe have you thank him for taking such good care of you.
He’ll try your mouth next. He bites back a moan imagining your face pressed against his crotch, knows already that the difference in size between the two of you will be absolutely pornographic at that angle. Can’t wait to teach you to deepthroat him, salivating at the image of you holding him in your mouth on the road.
He’d already wasted one load, it’s only right you take the next. You’re his now, which means he shouldn’t have to come in his fucking pants like a teenager ever again. 
But he’d gone easy on you, hadn’t made you take him in any of your holes this first night. Even let you pretend to sleep through the whole thing, though your shifting hips and little scrunched up face gave you away as soon as he pressed himself against you.
It was endearing, really, the way you tried so hard to pretend it wasn’t happening. He can still taste your tears on his tongue, mixing with the acrid taste of nicotine. He can’t wait to learn what your pussy tastes like.
He takes a long pull from the cigarette and considers your little shaking form.
You won’t need much now that you’re with him. Only a few outfits in case he needs to bring you in somewhere, but you’ll be kept naked when in his truck. He’ll have to find a motel sometime soon, get all the grime washed off your skin and the grease out of your hair. He’d like to see it brushed out, see how you might style it for him.
He’ll take good care of you. Feed you when you’re hungry, maybe get some little toys or books if you’re good, fuck you whenever you - or he - needs it. 
It’ll take a while for you to settle, he knows. You’ll spend a bit looking for that girly little gun you’d been keeping tucked away in your bag. But that’s okay. He already knows he’ll enjoy training you, showing you just how to be the perfect little doll for him.
He stubs the cigarette out in an ashtray, climbs back into bed with you and tucks you tight to his chest. Your little sniffling breaths draw another little twitch of the lips from him, and he buries his nose in your hair before shutting his eyes.
Yeah, you're going to be perfect for him.
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POST-OUTBREAK JOEL MILLER X FEM!READER
Joel feeling insecure about the large age gap you guys have
Warnings:
Large Age gap (reader is 28, Joel is 56), baby Ellie makes an appearance (ugh I love Bella Ramsey), lack of communication, hints to making out+Kissing+Sex, insults, body pain, crying.
• Joel first laid eyes on you when he and Ellie arrived to Jackson to settle down permanently.
• Tommy was giving Joel and Ellie a tour while you were taking a group of kids out of the Jackson daycare for a walk to the small playground.
• When Joel spotted you, he couldn’t help but stare at you and feel content watching how gentle and patient you were to the kids you were leading.
• Your warm smile that you flashed him when you caught him staring had him jump out of his daze and clear his throat, turning his attention back to Tommy’s voice.
• Ellie caught notice and nudged Joel’s shoulder, smirking and whispered, “Were you just staring at that pretty woman, Joel?”
• Joel had rolled his eyes, “I wasn’t”
• Ellie kept teasing him after that, making kissy faces to piss off the old man.
• The second time he saw you was at a Christmas gathering in the bar, strictly held for the adults a day before Christmas Eve.
• Tommy had brought you over to where Joel had been sitting on his own in the corner.
• “Joel, this is Maria and I’s close friend, Y/N. Y/N, this is Joel, my brother. He just arrived to Jackson earlier this week with his girl, Ellie”
• Joel thought you were so much more beautiful up close. You looked so much…younger, up close. Not even a wrinkle in sight.
• You had to only be 27 or 28 years old.
• When you both shook hands and you stared at Joel with so much genuine interest in your eyes, wanting to know about him and asking him questions, his seemingly cold heart had turned so much warmer.
• The conversation between you both flowed so freely and smoothly that you barely even noticed Tommy had removed himself from the conversation to go work the bar.
• After that night at the bar, you edged your way slowly into Joel and Ellie’s life, baking them cookies and lending Ellie your comics, and having them over for dinner alongside Maria and Tommy.
• Skip to four, long months after Christmas Day, you and Joel were an official couple.
• Joel had his doubts about becoming a couple due to how much older he was than you, and also hadn’t felt the touch of a woman since Tess, yet he kept it to himself knowing that if he tried to talk to you about it he’d feel vulnerable and all mushy. Joel didn’t do that kind of stuff.
• So he kept it in, even though it was itching to come out when the judgmental stares from people around town increased whenever you both would show public affection.
• He almost opened up to you about it one night when the Tipsy Bison Bar was gathered with people all around Jackson who had threw an anniversary party for Maria and Tommy.
• Joel was actually enjoying himself, having his beautiful girl on his left arm and a cold beer in his right hand.
• A slow song had came on and Joel brought you to the small dance floor where all the other couple were slow dancing with their loved ones.
• Your arms were wrapped around his broad shoulders and his strong arms wrapped around your waist.
• Joel was so happy and relaxed to have you in his arms and swaying gently to the slow Elvis song in the moment, that he wasn’t even focusing on anybody who was possibly staring at you guys with questionable faces.
• It was when Joel’s cold beer bumped your bare skin where your shirt lifted up, and you squealed, wrapping your arms around him tighter,
“Jeez, Joel! It’s so cold!”
• He did it again out of amusement and was letting out soft laughs,
“Can you get the bartender to refill it for me, baby? Please?” He asked, planting a kiss on your forehead.
• You happily took it from him and he watched you teasingly sway your hips dramatically when walking away from him, knowing that it always made him blush and laugh at your joking attempt at being sexy.
• He watched you from where he was standing, you were waiting for the bartender patiently, occasionally turning around to give him a grin.
• All the alcohol Joel had been drinking that night caught up to his bladder, so he had went to use the bathroom.
• You finally got the bartender to fill Joel’s bottle, and before you could start walking back to where Joel was supposed to be on the wooden dance floor, a man, around your age had tapped your shoulder.
“Uh, Hi? Can I help you?” You looked at the man who had short black hair and a nose ring with a confused look on your face,
“I’m usually not this forward but, you are one of the prettiest women I’ve ever seen here”
•You were used to men complimenting you around Jackson, so you just politely thanked him and looked around for Joel, not seeing him on the dance floor or sitting on any of the bar stools. Hoping he would walk away,
“You work at the Jackson Daycare, right?” You wanted to cringe at his attempts at small talk,
“Uh, yeah! I do” You didn’t ask him a question back, wanting him to get a hint that you weren’t interested in engaging in any broken flirting with him.
• He still wasn’t getting a hint, and Joel still was no where to be found,
“I have to ask pretty girl, are you seeing anyone at the moment?”
•You wanted to cringe again. ‘Pretty girl’ only sounded nice coming out of your boyfriend’s gruff voice.
• Speaking of your boyfriend, where the hell is he?
• There was a small line for the bathroom when Joel went, so it was taking longer than he thought it would.
• You looked at the man and gave him a tight lipped smile,
“I am, actually. I’m with my boyfriend” You responded to him.
• The young man looked around,
“And where is he? I don’t see him” You wanted to punch the cockiness out of him.
• That’s when Joel had came up behind the both of you,
“I’m right here”
• The tension released from your body when you heard your man’s voice,
“Hi” You kissed Joel on the cheek and slightly stood behind him, grabbing his arm to try and lead him to sit down. He wouldn’t budge from where he was now towering over the younger man,
“There a problem, young man?” Joel asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.
• The man had laughed in disbelief,
“This grandpa is your boyfriend? Wow, unbelievable”
• You gave the man a dirty look and continued to tug less gently on his arm,
“Joel, c’mon. He’s not worth it”
• The man scoffed and stared at you,
“I’m pretty sure I’m worth more than this old fuck, bitch”
• That’s when Joel shoved the guy into the wall and clenched his fists,
“Joel, seriously! Let’s just walk away!”
• Tommy and Maria had rushed over to break up the two men, talking to them both, but their voices sounded blurry to Joel’s ears.
• Your face was becoming hot out of embarrassment due to the eyes from everyone in the bar all on you.
• You placed the beer on the bar counter and grabbed you and Joel’s coats from the hanger and walked over to him,
“Let’s go home, okay? It’s getting late, baby”
• Joel didn’t answer you, instead just taking his jacket out of your hands and walking ahead outside,
• Joel was quiet the whole way home. He wasn’t slipping his hand into the pocket of your jeans and giving you drunken kisses like he usually did on these nights.
• When you both got to his and Ellie’s house, he was still quiet.
• Though, he was being loud with his actions. Tossing his jacket to the side, kicking his boots carelessly off the carpet, and stomping up to his bedroom upstairs.
• Ellie, who was sitting on the lazy boy chair reading one of the comics you gave her, looked at you with a confused look,
“What’s up his asshole tonight?” You shook your head and rubbed your forehead,
“He got into a small fight at the bar. Nothing too serious” you said. Flopping down on the couch with a tired sigh,
“If it wasn’t serious, why is he acting like some fucking kid who got told he wasn’t allowed some candy?”
You laughed and shrugged,
“I really don’t know, honey. I wish I did”
• And it’s true, you really don’t know why that situation at the bar made him so angry.
• You knew Joel to be strong and get over his shit easily.
• Joel had been quiet and less affectionate for the next few days after that.
• The comments the much younger man made about Joel’s age really fucking got to him.
• Also the fact that the guy had the audacity to call you a bitch.
• What the guy said was getting to Joel’s head…what if a younger man was more worth your while? A man that didn’t groan and grunt when he sat down or up, a man that didn’t need massages before bed every night because of his constant aching bones, a man who was not old enough to be your dad.
• Joel was feeling insecure.
• Joel had finally opened up to you about it when you guys had the house to yourself.
• He had finished showering, a much needed shower after helping Maria clean the barn all day.
• When he walked into the bedroom, you we’re sitting pretty on the flannel sheets of the bed, a white night gown that Maria gifted you for Christmas draped over your body and a big smile on your face.
• Even though Joel had been in a foggy mindset since that night at Maria and Tommy’s anniversary party, looking at you never failed to make him crack a smile.
• He sat down on the bed, grunting when pain shot up his aching back,
“You okay, baby?” Your warm hand rubbed his shoulder, soothingly.
• Joel just nodded,
“I’m alright. Don’t worry about it”
• You frowned when it seemed like he didn’t want your touch.
• When he laid on his back, you, out of usual routine, straddled his lap, hopefully to have sex.
• It had been coming up on a week that Joel had barely touched you. Always wanting to to just head straight to bed,
“Sorry, sweetheart, not tonight. I can’t” Joel patted your bare thigh, signalling for you to lay down beside him.
• You became embarrassed, biting your lip and awkwardly getting off his lap,
“Oh, okay”
• Joel felt his heart slightly crack at the confusion and hurt in your voice.
• He wanted to so bad tell you how he felt, but he too felt embarrassed to mention how he had been stuck up all week because of the comments that guy made.
• He was hoping the problem would slowly solve itself.
• He looked at you when you sat up on your knees beside him, facing him who was laying down with one of his arms tucked under his neck,
“Joel, why have you been acting so weird with me all week?” You were chewing on your nail, staring at his face trying to study him.
• Joel felt his stomach drop. Oh god, here we go. He cleared his throat,
“What do you mean, baby?” He rubbed your knee with the hand that wasn’t behind his neck,
“You’ve been distant since that night at the bar. You’ve barely touched me or even seen me all week. Your just, distant. Ellie and Tommy see it, too” You placed your hand on top of his that was resting on your leg.
Joel sighed and stared up at the ceiling. He couldn’t hide it anymore,
“I didn’t like what that man said the other night” you remained silent, waiting for him to continue,
“He was right. I’m an old man, and I’m way too old for you. I see the way people stare at us in public, the judgmental looks and shit. They practically tell me that I don’t deserve ya. You deserve a younger man who has energy and active bones. Who can fuck you more than once in one night”
You wanted to cry hearing him degrading himself like that,
“Joel, I didn’t know you felt that way. How long?” Joel looked up at you,
“Before we even dated, sweetheart. It’s embarrassing, I know” You shook your head and straddled him, planting your hands on his chest,
“It’s not embarrassing. I’m sorry you felt that way for a while. I love you so, so much. If I wanted a younger man I would have already been with one of them by now, but I chose you. I chose you because your strong, you care about the people you love, your extremely handsome and make me feel like the only girl in the world” Joel could feel his neck and face getting red at your words,
“Joel, baby, please tell me when you are feeling upset about these kinds of things. I’ll only know how you feel if you talk to me” You combed your hands gently through his grey hair, looking down at him with so much love in your eyes it almost made him tear up,
“I love you” He reached his hand up to your cheek, rubbing it,
“I love you, too” You whispered. You pressed a kiss to the pad of his thumb while staring down at him. He pressed his thumb in between your lips, slowly pushing it in your mouth. You accepted it, and sucked on it slowly. He groaned and closed his eyes,
“Sweetheart, I really wanna make love to ya right now but my back is just so fucking sore” You slowly pulled his thumb out of your mouth,
“Don’t worry about that. Just lay back and let me take care of you, Joel. My Joel” Joel moaned at that, his big hands going to grasp at your hips, slowly pulling your nightgown up.
This was going to be a long night.
-
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starryeyedjanai · 1 year
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bet.
steddie | 2.8k
read on ao3
Happy Birthday @wynnyfryd 🥰🥰🥰 I've had this idea floating around in my brain for a while now and seeing it was your birthday prompted me to finish it 💕
---
It's his first time in Indianapolis as an out bisexual, so of course Robin takes him to a gay club - to experience the drag queens and to see other queer people having fun, she says.
It's a little overwhelming, the bright lights and the music and the people. But he's having a great time, people watching and drinking virgin daiquiris and talking with Robin.
She's been here before - she came with Vickie when they were still together one weekend and they had a blast. So when Steve figured his sexuality shit out and came out to her, this was the first place she wanted to take him.
Now, he can see why. It's a haven of sorts. Gay men dancing together and kissing each other, gay women getting cozy in the booths, drag queen and drag kings about. He hasn't felt like he's belonged somewhere in a long time, but it kind of feels like he belongs here. The atmosphere is welcoming and kind.
They dance a little before everything gets overwhelming and then they find an empty booth to sit down and sip at their drinks in.
Robin keeps trying to encourage him to find someone to kiss so that they can call this night a success, but he keeps telling her that no one has caught his eye. And it's kind of true. He's seen some men that he thinks might be his type, but they're all paired up with men who look nothing like Steve. Even then, the few people that have caught his eye weren't right, somehow.
He keeps holding out, hoping to find someone that makes his heart skip a beat, or whatever the appropriate cliche for a gay club is.
And it. It happens.
He glances over at the bar as he's taking the last few sips of his drink, thinking about if he wants to brave the crowd at the bar, when he sees him.
His heart doesn't skip a beat, but he knows as soon as he lays eyes on him that he wants him. He's beautiful - and intimidating.
He's sitting facing away from the bar with his legs splayed open, ripped jeans revealing what looks like fishnet stockings underneath them. He's wearing a tank top that's showing off his many tattoos and Steve is struck with the urge to know what they taste like. His combat boots are clunky and could seriously kick someone's ass if they messed with him. His wavy hair is half tied up, a messy ponytail holding his hair out of his face, but the bottom half is freely falling past his shoulders.
He kind of feels like he's been bit by the love bug - he can't take his eyes off him.
He knows Robin is saying something to him, but he can't even hear it. It's all just background noise. He doesn't think he's ever been so captivated by someone before. He wants to put his mouth on him.
"Steve? Oh my god, stop ignoring me!" Robin says and snaps her fingers in front of his face, pulling him from his reverie. He looks over at her sheepishly.
"Sorry, Robbie," he says, looking back over at the guy briefly and yep, he's still just as hot as the first time he looked.
"What was that? Did you see someone you like? You looked like you blacked out for a minute there," she says, a smirk pulling at her lips.
He rolls his eyes. Of course she already knows - his type is people that look like they could stomp on him and he'd say thanks. "Black tank top, ripped jeans, at the bar. I think I'm in love," he says with a sigh. He's way too intimidated to go over there.
She squeals in his ear and says, "This is so exciting! You have to go kiss him now."
"Oh, whoa, whoa, whoa. I'm not just gonna go up to a stranger and ask if he'll be my first gay kiss."
"And why not?" she asks, stirring her drink.
"Because that's insane," he says. "He's probably already got someone. He's, he's gorgeous. There's no way he's here alone." It's a shame, but it's probably true - he's way too good looking to be here alone.
"There's only one way to find out," Robin says. She leans forward and whispers in his ear, a challenge of sorts.
"You can't be serious," he says to her, questioning his own sanity for even entertaining her for one second.
She leans back in and whispers more into his ear and he groans.
"You're diabolical," he tells her, pulling back to smack a kiss on her forehead. He stands up and takes a deep breath before marching over to the bar. He can't believe he's doing this.
He marches right up to the guy and immediately every word in his vocabulary is gone. He's so fucking pretty.
"Um. Uh, hi," he says, stupidly.
The guy bites his lip and grins at him. He says, "Hi," back to him and Steve is literally going to die, he thinks. He couldn't see it from across the club before, but this guy has a lip piercing, and Steve wants to know what it feels like against his mouth so fucking bad.
"I need you to kiss me," he blurts out, trying not to cringe.
"You need me to, to kiss you?" the guy asks, and this was a bad idea, the worst idea Robin's ever had. There's no way he's going to agree to this.
"So, my friend-" he stops, looking back at Robin - she waves at them. He's trying so hard not to blush as he turns back to the guy and says, "She bet me that I couldn't get a guy to kiss me since it's my first time here. So I was wondering if you would kiss me, so I can win the bet." He's steeling himself for rejection, for this guy to tell him to fuck off or maybe have mercy and let him down gently by telling him he's taken.
But he just smiles, tilting his head at Steve. "Why me?"
"Hmm?" Steve asks.
"Why me?" the guy asks again. "Out of all the guys here, you picked me. Why?"
Steve sputters for a second. "You, I mean. You have to know how you look, right? Like, you're gorgeous."
He grins again, tonguing at his lip ring and Steve is so down bad for him, it's actually insane. "Okay," he says. "I'll accept that answer. Now, if you get your kiss, you win your bet, but what's in it for me?"
Steve is hoping that if he's still talking to him, that means he actually has a shot. He's feeling dizzy with how much he wants to kiss him. He really fucking hopes he can kiss him.
He says, "A kiss?" with what he hopes is a charming - and not at all maniacal - grin.
The guy snorts. Rude. He snorts at Steve and says, "I think I'll need a little more that that, don't you think, sweetheart?"
Steve nods dumbly, says, "I'll split my winnings with you. Would that work?"
He's not expecting it to work, is the thing. He doesn't expect him to say yes.
Which is why he's so surprised when he reaches out and tugs Steve closer by the collar of his shirt. He did not know being yanked around was his thing, but apparently it is because good god.
"That works for me," the guy says, eyes going molten as he looks at Steve.
He can't believe that worked. Holy shit.
He's. He's nervous, he realizes. He's had a lot of first kisses, been on many first dates that ended in him kissing someone unfamiliar. But this is nerve-wracking for him in a way it hasn't been before.
He lets the guy pull him in further by his collar, lets him control when the kiss happens.
The first press of their lips has Steve sighing and opening his mouth slightly, wanting more, wanting to taste him. He kisses him, lets himself be kissed really. He opens his mouth more when a tongue snakes out and presses into his mouth.
Steve's hands come up to pull him closer, to pull - fuck, he doesn't even know his name, yet. He's doing this all wrong. He meant to get his name before shoving his tongue down his throat.
But it's good, the feeling of soft lips pressed against his, the cold metal of his piercing pressing against his mouth, his tongue stroking over Steve's in a way that makes him wish they were alone, wish they weren't here surrounding by all these people. He wants to kiss him and keep kissing him until the breath runs out of his lungs. He wants to put his hands on him, to dip his fingers into the rips in his jeans and feel the rough fishnets against his fingertips.
He pulls his mouth away to gasp out, "What's your name?" because he needs to know, needs to have some connection, some thread to hold onto, to grasp as they're kissing.
"Eddie," he whispers against Steve's mouth. "What's yours?" Eddie asks. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.
"Steve," he says before pressing his mouth against Eddie's again. He wants to kiss him forever. He never wants to stop. He wants Eddie to keep licking into his mouth like he owns it until the bartender yells out that it's last call. He wants Eddie to keep holding him like this until Robin drags him away as they turn the lights on in the club to kick everyone out. He wants, he wants, he wants.
He gets a hand tangled in Eddie's hair and gets their heads tilted right so that they can lick deeper into each other's mouths. It's burning him up inside, the way their tongues are sliding together, the way Eddie's licking behind his teeth and sucking on his tongue like he's trying to taste the daiquiri he was drinking earlier.
Eddie tastes like tobacco and something sweet, like he was drinking something sweet before Steve came up to him too. God, Steve wants to know everything about him - what's his go-to drink order, does he smoke, does he prefer beer over mixed drinks, is he seeing anyone, please don't be seeing anyone, god.
He feels desperate, he feels out of control. He wants Eddie to take him apart like he's never wanted anything else in his life. He wants those hands on him, wants to feel the rings on his fingers pressing marks into his skin. He want his hands gripping his hips, sliding down and touching him. He doesn't think he's ever wanted like this.
The only reason they break apart is because someone's elbow ends up in Steve's back and he ends up pushed further into the crease of Eddie's thigh. He feels him hard against him and he knows Eddie can feel how hard he is too. Fuck, it's like everything else faded away when Eddie's mouth was on his, but now that they're not kissing, he's suddenly achingly aware that he's hard in his incredibly tight pants after making out with Eddie for god knows how long.
His face is probably red and sweaty, but Eddie's still looking at him like he wants him and god, does he want him back.
But he pulls back a little, puts some space between their hips because he quite literally can't ditch Robin here go hook up with Eddie, no matter how much he wants to.
He bites his lip and pulls his hand back, the one that was tangled in Eddie's long hair. He puts it on Eddie's chest and asks, "Was that okay?" because he thinks he knows the answer, but it never hurts to hear it.
Eddie huffs out a laugh and says, "Was that okay, he asks. Sweetheart, I think you and I both know that was something on a completely different realm from just okay."
If Steve wasn't blushing before, he definitely is now. He says, "Good, good. I'm glad we're on the same page."
Eddie leans close like he's going to kiss him again. He brushes his lips against Steve's in a dry press - barely a kiss, but it has Steve aching all the same anyway. He drags his mouth along his jaw, just mouthing at it, and it's the hottest thing Steve's ever felt.
He whispers in Steve's ear, "Your friend is trying really hard to get your attention right now," and that pulls Steve right back down to earth.
He pulls away again and turns around to see Robin waving her arms at him. He puts his hands on his hips and raises his eyebrows at her. She waves her hand at him, beckoning him back to their table so he holds up a finger to tell her to hold the fuck on.
He turns back around and says, "I think I'm being summoned. As much as I want to stay and as much as I, like, desperately want to keep kissing you, I should get back to my friend."
Eddie crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against the bar and Steve can't help the way his eyes sweep over him again. Eddie's smirking when he looks back up at him.
"That's fair," Eddie says. "So, what did we win?"
Steve makes a questioning sound, before he remembers what Eddie's talking about. He sheepishly brings a hand up to swipe his hair out of his face where its begun to stick to his forehead. "Oh, uh, about that. There never really was a bet."
"Really?" Eddie asks, leaning forward again into Steve space, like that's the most interesting thing he's heard all night.
Steve shakes his head. "I promised half of the winnings, but the winnings are zero, so half of zero is still zero, you know?"
Eddie grins at him and says, "You're kind of devious, you know that? Here I was, thinking I'd get a prize at the end of that kiss."
"Sorry for getting your hopes up, but I mean, it was a good kiss, right?" Steve asks, boldly leaning forward to press his mouth against Eddie's again. Eddie lets him, lets Steve kiss him, softer than before. Before it was all new and exciting and hot, and it still is, but this kiss is tender, pulling a gasp from Steve's lips when they separate.
"It was a good kiss," Eddie agrees, pecking him on the lips again, soft and sweet.
"Can I have your number?" Steve asks, trying to be brave for once. He got Eddie to kiss him, even if it was under less than truthful circumstances, but he hopes it was good enough to warrant a call back.
"Your friend, is she seeing anyone?" Eddie asks, and Steve's head is kind of spinning at the redirection there.
"She and her girlfriend broke up a couple months ago. Why?" he asks, wondering where this is going. If this guy is actually somehow straight and only kissed him to get with Robin, Steve's gonna lose it.
"I'll tell you what, if you can convince your friend to kiss my friend, you can have my number," Eddie says, gesturing to the girl that's been sitting next to him at the bar this entire time.
And- oh. Oh god, he's embarrassed.
Has she just been awkwardly sitting there while Eddie made out with him? He was half a second away from dry humping Eddie and his friend was sitting there patiently waiting for them to stop. That's embarrassing.
She's cute - she's got this whole cheery, bubblegum vibe to her that didn't make Steve glance twice at her once he had his eyes set on Eddie because the two of them are kind of polar opposites. He didn't think they were here together.
His eyes shift back and forth between them and she waggles her fingers at him in a wave, smirking at his caught out look.
"Chrissy," she says, sticking out her hand to shake Steve's. He's kind of intimidated by her too, but he's got to hand it to her - he doesn't think even Robin would sit through him making out with someone right next to her. He guesses he does kind of owe it to both her and Robin. He and Eddie were making out for a while.
"Steve," he says, lamely. "Sorry for making out with your friend right next to you. Um, I'm gonna go grab Robin now."
They both watch him as he leaves, which makes his skin prickle and his heartbeat speed up. He makes a beeline back to Robin and lets her coo at him for a minute about having his first gay kiss.
She's talking a mile a minute asking about how it was, if he got his number, when Steve interrupts her.
"Bobbin, you are not gonna believe this," he says, and when he's got her attention, he continues, "I think I just found you a girlfriend?"
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sanjisluvbot · 1 year
Text
Isekai Yandere Strawhats x Reader
Masterlist
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8
[ Check Masterlist for ch 9-19 ]
Sequel just uploaded 1
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Life began to feel so boring. The days blended into one another and suddenly we’re in march. Staying up late catching up on your favorite show because there is nothing better to do right now. One piece was such a breathe of fresh air, full of adventure and characters that seem amazing to be around and explore the world with. You wished to be in the world where u can freely be who you wanted, the world where you weren’t shackled by the burdens of reality.
You’ve been around all the corners of the internet so you know of shifting and astral projection which is exactly what seems to be going on right now. Rewatching episodes leading up to the time skip around 4 in the morning till your eyes flutter shut. Suddenly the wafting scent of the ocean filled your nose. “ Is she a stowaway?” “ How have we just found her we haven’t been on land for over a week now”. You opened your eyes to the snout of a reindeer and other very familiar faces.
You sat up so fast knocking into the poor doctor. Panic set through you because the first assumption anyone would have is that they’re in a dream or— congrats you’ve finally lost your damn mind. “ Who are you people”.
“ We’ve got the same question for you”
“ well I asked first”
The blunt part of a sword was thrust into your face by a very angry green swordsman. Fear etched across your face you give him a once over. Zoro. To your left was Robin and chopper holding his snout on her lap. There should be absolutely no reason that you’re in this world with these wacky 15th century pirates from your goofy anime show. Your voice shakes as you try to convince the green haired man to stop threatening your life.
“ Listen this is surely a misunderstanding, I really don’t understand how I have gotten here and I’m not really too sure who you people are.”
Maybe if they think that I don’t know who they are I can figure out a way to get out of this mess without ruining the story.
“ What is your last memory before you woke up on our ship” a voice from behind spoke. Turning to the left at the top of the stairs was Nami with Sanji following behind her.
“ I was laying in my bed falling asleep and then I woke up here”
After that you were bombarded with questions, what’s your name, your age, if an 8ft skeleton can see your underwear and it nearly drained the life out of you. The sun was now beginning to set after such a long day of being interrogated by the crew you used to watch through a screen. The captain was sitting on the head of the Sunny watching the day fade away when he stretched his arm to you pulling you to sit with him.
It was quiet for a while and nerves began to set in. Does he see through me? I know a lot of people don’t give luffy the credit but he’s way more intelligent than you’d think. “ What is it like where you’re from y/n” he spoke as he turned to face you.
“ Very different.”
“ Tell me about it please”
The sun completely faded into night and the stars littered the sky while you told luffy about “ where you’re from” and he was absolutely entranced by the world he’s never been. You ended up telling Luffy the truth about your origins, somewhat about himself, there was just something so compelling and trusting about him you didn’t think nothing of it. You slept in the girls room next to Nami that night, thinking about the next step and getting home.
Was this really a dream or did your desire to escape mundane life make you shift into this world of unknown.
The next day you went to eat breakfast with the crew and luffy starts spouting all the things you told him the night before. With seemingly no thought behind his words as he swallowed everything on his plate, though his crew members all stopped to stare at you in confusion.
“ I thought you said you weren’t from here?”
“ You said you didn’t know how you got here”
“ Well I wasn’t exactly lying, I really don’t know how or why I’ve been transported into your world. I just didn’t want to scare you or make you think I’m crazy with all of this.”
Over the next few days you were beginning to settle with the crew, you spent hours getting to know everyone and having the most fun you’ve had in years. Nami and Robin were curious about your world and you were more than elated to tell them all the things you enjoyed. The boys liked when you played their silly games, Sanji was obsessed with everything about you and loved having you perched on the counter when he was cooking so you can serve as his taste tester.
Zoro only just began to acknowledge you after finding out you also had a love for drinking, it became really easy to bond with the man. You knew you had to go back but what’s the harm in spending time with such a loving group of people, it’s not everyday someone is given your experience don’t waste it being worried.
You were able to convince Nami to give you a blank sheet of paper where you wrote all the things you knew about shifting and astral projection. You’ve been with the crew over a week now spending every night trying to shift back to your world. Sometimes you feel close others are strangely disturbed by Robin and Nami whether they are sparking up a conversation with you or knocking things over which disturbs your concentration.
The next few days you began to see birds meaning you were finally reaching land, the sabody archipelago. You know the way this arch ends and you need to go home now before you spend two years on an unknown island doing who knows what because YOU aren’t a straw hat and you have no place where you can learn to polish your skills.
The bubbly island became visible and you’d be reaching it by midday, while you were sitting on the head of the Sunny with Luffy again he asked you his million dollar question.
“ Y/n join my crew” he smiled. Your cheeks burned and you had to turn away from the boy whose smile brightened all your days.
“ Luffy I would love to but—”
“ Great- EVERYONE Y/N” you clasped your hand over his mouth.
“ Luffy l can’t join your crew. I have to go home I don’t even belong in this world”
“ Why do you want to leave” sadness dripped from his voice.
“ Yeah, we’ve been having so much fun” the small doctor announced from the deck.
“ It has been very fun I’ll admit but I don’t belong here with you guys. I’ve got a whole life in my world— and a family and just so much to do.” You reasoned.
The rest of the day the crew seemed angry and distant, you simply couldn’t understand why. When they all found out where you really came from they said they would help you get home. During dinner that night you were seated between luffy and Zoro who barley uttered a word while hushed conversations were surrounding the rest of the table. It was insufferable and reminded you of elementary school when someone didn’t want to be your friend anymore and told everyone about it.
“ Luffy are you upset with me? I haven’t done anything wrong”
“ Why do you want to leave? You just joined the crew and were on a new island”
“ I never said I was joining your crew luffy”
“ you know the captain doesn’t take no for an answer y/n” Zoro chuckled.
With a huff you stood up everyone’s eyes landing on you. “ Are you all acting this way because you don’t want me to leave?”
“ Why would we want a crew member to leave us?” Nami’s voice wobbled as tears formed in her eyes. Are they serious? When did u ever agree or tell these people that you were a part of their crew.
“ Listen closely all of you. You have to understand I am not from here, I never joined the straw hats, and I don’t even have any powers I can’t protect myself.”
“ That’s why you have me Y/n-chwaaan”
“ ignore that idiot cook but you have Luffy and I, we wouldn’t let anything happen to you”
“ Who is an idiot you damn moss ball !”
A fight between the cook and the swordsman broke out and you would usually find everything hilarious but…
These people have convinced themselves you are one of them and they don’t want you to leave. You decided tonight will be the night where you will go home with or without their help especially because you already know what’s in store the next day. Laying next to Nami that night waiting for her breathing to even out so you can concentrate with no interruptions you hear soft sobbing.
“ Are you alright Nami..”
“ Y/n I know you want to go back but can you stay a little longer we all care about you and enjoy having you around. We really feel like you’re one of our crew mates”
“ Sure, I’m not missing anything important right now” lying is better than letting this girl cry all night. When her breathing finally evened out you were able to try again.
Eyes fluttering open you were finally in your own bedroom. It was just as you left it, your iPad paused on the intro to one piece and the sun was showing through your curtains.
I really did it.
Life began as usual but you had a newfound appreciation for all the little things that made life worth it. Friends and family found your new outlook pleasant and you finally felt like you turned on a new leaf. While you were getting ready for bed applying all of your creams and oils the Tv in the living room turned on.
Wealth, Fame, Power.
A chill ran through your spine, you haven’t watched the show in over a month in fear of being brought back into that world by some odd chance. Getting up to turn off the tv something in the hallway made a noise. The fear of someone or something being in your house had you clenching on the door knob for dear life.
Just open the door nothing is there you’re only scaring yourself.
Opening the door and walking down the dark hallway into the softly illuminated living room the episode of the strawhats finally meeting up after two years was playing.
“ My favorite arch I should rewatch soon”
“ Why don’t you live it instead?” A voice from behind hissed.
You felt your heart thumping in your ears as you slowly turned to be met with a very angry Captain.
——
Not proofread ! 🫶🏽
I was inspired by a similar stories I’ve seen down the tl hope you enjoyed. Pt 2 coming soon maybe
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writerslittlelibrary · 8 months
Text
He started it
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masterlist
summary: when a guy in school gets really handsy with you, you break his nose, yet your moms don’t see it that way
pairing: Blackhill x reader
warnings: yelling, disgusting man
genre: fluff, angst
words: 1143
a/n: I forgot to post this and I feel so bad because I said I was gonna post it yesterday 🥲, so sorry @nattynatoosh for the false promise 🫣
You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work 
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You’re not even sure how it happened. At one point, you were grabbing some books from your locker, and the next, you were sitting in the principal's office.
You were a great kid. You had amazing grades and were outstanding in all your classes. You were the kid every parent would want to have, and Maria and Natasha never hesitated to talk about your great skill and achievements.
You could see the principal looking at you with pure disappointment. “You’re not like this…” you can still hear him saying when the boy told him the story. His story.
You hadn’t said a word. You knew that whatever you said, would just make it worse. If you started talking, you’d quickly lose your temper and you would either be yelling or crying, or both. So you kept your mouth shut. You were waiting for your moms to get there. Surely they would understand and help you. 
When your moms did come in, you could see the steam basically coming from Natasha’s ears. She was furious, and everyone in the room noticed it. 
Maria followed her, looking way more collected than Natasha was. She was always better with handling stressful situations, especially if it was about you. Maria stood behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder while Natasha sat besides you. The parents of the boy were already there, and from the looks of it they were real entitled rich people. 
The mother was crying, and the dad was almost as furious as Natasha, though you’re not sure that’s a possibility. “She hit my baby boy,” the mother cried. “She broke his nose,” she continued sniffling, and you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. 
Natasha looked at her unimpressed, and then at you. “Is that true?” she asked, and you shook your head. “Yes it is!” the boy yelled from beside you, and you sighed. 
You weren’t going to say anything. You didn’t want to give that to them.
“Well, according to the state both of the kids are in, it’s obvious who’s telling the truth. I suggest a former apology for y/n, and a three week suspension,” the principal suggested, and the mother let out a sob. "Suspension?! She should be in jail for what she did to my boy!” she yelled at the principal, and you heard Maria let out a sigh while she gently squeezed your shoulder. 
“Ma’am, jail is a bit harsh for a situation like this, and with the record y/n holds, I really don’t feel a harsh punishment like that is necessary,” the principal said calmly, trying to calm the woman down. 
“And you? You’re not just going to let her get away with it are you?” the woman asked your moms, looking at them with anger.
You’re moms assured you’d be punished. Your phone would get taken and you’d get some extra chores at home. 
Once the woman finally settled, Natasha pulled you up from the chair and led you to the car. With the grip she had on your arm, you could feel she was still angry. She opened the door and pushed you inside, a little rougher than necessary. 
You sat quietly. You didn’t want to cry in front of your moms, yet you wanted to yell at them what really happened wasn’t your fault. 
Maria got in the driver's seat, and Natasha sat next to her. You felt their stares through the rearview mirror, but you didn’t dare stare back. You just looked out the window, trying to hold back your tears until you could cry them out freely in the comfort of your room.
“Do you understand what you did?!” Natasha suddenly asked you, and you could feel the anger in her tone. “This is serious! It’s not just some sneaking around or skipping class. Something like this could have serious consequences! Do you even understand that!?” she yelled, and you didn’t dare say something.
Maria sighed with disappointment, “We just want to know why,” she said, looking back at you when she stopped in front of a red light. 
You shrugged, and continued looking outside. 
“Just so you know, we weren’t kidding. You will have serious consequences at home,” Natasha told you, before she too, silently started out the window. 
Once you got home, you quickly ran to your room. You could hear your moms yelling at you, but you didn’t care. You jumped into your bed, finally letting yourself cry. You were full on sobbing, and you could hear someone come in.
You felt the bed dip, and you felt a hand stroking your back. From how it felt you could tell it was Maria. You tried to talk, but it was hard through the crying so instead Maria pulled you in a sitting position, hugging you tightly to her chest.  
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” you cried out in between your sobs, and Maria sushed you. “I’m sorry mom. I didn’t do anything I swear! He was touching me and he wouldn’t stop. I’m sorry…” you kept crying, and Maria could feel tears in her eyes. “It’s okay, everything’s okay. I’m not mad at you,” she told you, rubbing her hand up and down her back.
You heard Natasha come in, and you felt the bed dip on the other side of you. “I’m sorry for yelling,” she told you, wiping the hair from your face. 
“I was unfair, and we should’ve listened to you before we made assumptions,” she continued and your sobs died down to sniffles. “We’ll make sure he’ll get punished, and you’ll stay home next week with us okay?” she said, and you nodded, as you let Maria go and clung onto your other mom.
“I’m sorry mama. I didn’t mean to break his nose, I just wanted him gone,” you cried out, and Natasha nodded as she stroked your hair. “You made the right choice,” she told you, and you nodded. 
The next day, your moms contacted the school, and you went to the principal’s office again. This time to watch the security footage. It was clear to see the boy had tried to get in your pants, and it was clear how he had you cornered while you were trying to push him off. After he didn’t let go, you punched him, and he fell to the floor as he started yelling.
The principal apologized, and said the boy would be punished and reported to the police. 
On your way home, you were happily murmuring along to the song on the radio, looking out the window. “I just wanted to say I’m really sorry for not asking you what happened first,” you heard Natasha say, and you turned to her with a smile. “It’s okay,” you told her, and she smiled back.
“That was one hell of a punch though.”
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tirions · 2 months
Text
sakamaki boys and their ideal lover
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warnings for mentions of sadistic/toxic behaviours. fem pronouns used, not proofread.
a/n: i love the posts people make of this concept so decided to do my own!!
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shu:
despite his moaning and groaning, his undead heart always skips a beat when a girl is stubborn
not stubborn in the rude sense, but stubbornly kind. girls that dig their heels in and just refuse to leave his side, even though he’s warned and derided them on countless occasions
wants a girl who puts an effort into sharing all his joys in life with him. cuddling up for a late afternoon nap underneath the golden sun, humming haltingly to a tune he showed you that’s hundreds of years old. he’ll tease you the whole time, but he’s grateful that you actually are interested in everything that makes him who he is
admires someone with a soft spot for life, who looks at the world around her as if each thing was intricately woven to be drank in with such awe. all the while, he’ll be looking at you. he’s long lost that spark, but you haven’t… it makes him feel a pang of unfamiliar fondness.
in the end, he hungers for warmth, for surety. there’s a security in such tenderness, and it winds him sometimes, how even the smallest of acts can make him feel at ease. or rather, how you make him feel at ease.
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reiji:
this man has a manual called being the perfect partner 101, i swear🙄
okay, but jokes aside… at first he has these expectations for his lover. the pristine appearance of a porcelain teacup but with the inner strength of steel. but soon he realises, nobody can live up to these expectations.
his ideal lover would be somebody who tries. he knows he’s unreasonable with his expectations deep down, that his lover is just a human and not so easy to mould without chipping away at her. but the fact that you are willing to let him sculpt you? the fact you get up after each whipping and try and try? it fascinates him.
feels a certain twist at his heart when a girl can recognise all his little habits and quirks. for someone so meticulous, he’s never been given that kind of attention himself. he also prides himself on his ability to not let emotions slip and show on his exterior. when you point out the tenseness of his shoulders, or the subtle yet telltale eye twitch that he’s at limit, he’s completely disarmed by it.
loves attentiveness. not in embraces or longing glances only, but in taking care of him. he’s so used to taking care of the household, making sure his brothers don’t cause too much trouble, that by the end of the day he’s weary. learning to brew his favourite teas, lessening the load by cleaning his lab equipment when he seems more stressed than usual… quiet actions that speak louder than honeyed words or kisses ever could.
it all comes down to all of your subtle attention to him and his needs, something he’s so unused to that he doesn’t know what to do with it all. it breaks down his walls ever so slowly, allowing a boy so desperate for love to seep through its cracks, to allow him to loosen the reigns, just a little.
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ayato:
if you’re not worshipping the ground he walks on, who even are you?
just kidding!! although i do think he loves it when a girl looks at him with admiration, that little twinkle of amazement in your eyes when he does something. it inflates his ego, yes, but it also makes him feel strangely giddy.
girls who are easy to prank and tease. he thinks it’s adorable when you let out a squeal even though it’s the third time he’s shoved you into an iron maiden. loves the scrunched up face of anger and the annoyed way you say his name.
on the flip side, he would definitely love someone equally as mischievous as him. a balance of the two would be heavenly.
something softens in him when he isn’t made to feel pressured or stupid. when he can talk freely without worrying about being the best or the smartest. a kind and patient listener who hangs onto each and every word when he is being serious.
all in all, i think he wants someone who makes him feel like he’s the best, even if deep down he knows he may never be. somebody attentive, kind and slightly naive.
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kanato:
his very own, real-life dress up games for girls 😭😭💀
he wants a real life doll, a docile little thing to wrap in the prettiest silks and tulle.
a girl who will only speak to him in dulcet tones, every fibre of your being sweet and gentle when you address him.
a girl who spoils him! cake upon cake baked just for him, homemade chocolates and flaky pastries. if you appease his tastes enough, maybe he’ll let you have a bite, or take a bite of you as thanks.
you shouldn’t be fussy either. his soulmate should sit still and be grateful for his attention, even if his fangs hurt or if he’s twisting your hair into braids too tightly. you should be happy he’s even giving you the time of day.
a girl with eyes only for him. the kind of sparkling, heart eyes that scream honesty and innocence.
overall, he wants you to be as doll-like as possible. you should have the attitude of melting sugar, and should only have eyes for him. only then would you be his true love.
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laito:
entertainment
laito has no idea what the meaning of true love is. he finds the concept of soulmates laughable and so it’s not what he’s looking for in a partner.
what he is looking for is a marionette, one that tugs against the strings he manipulates just enough to offer a fresh challenge, but not enough to infuriate him. you’re dancing on a tightrope with him, after all, and any slip up could cause you to go off-kilter. to know the perfect balance is key.
he likes earnest girls the most though, no matter how much he attempts to break you. your unshakable principles would get his pulse racing. there’s a certain naivety in you that he’s never experienced, and it fascinates him.
loves innocent looks but steely interiors, a disjointed aspect to you that reels him in. a doe-eyed look paired with a string of carefully chosen, cold words…
the world is a stage for him and he’s chosen you as the heroine. put on a good show for him and he’ll think of you with some twisted kind of fondness.
if you do break past his walls though and teach him what the meaning of love is though, he’d want someone who offers a quiet kind of comfort. someone who doesn’t pry, but is always there nonetheless. a shoulder to cry on, a tender-hearted listener.
but there’s a slim possibility for that. the present is all that matters to him
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subaru:
underneath all those black clothes and angst, there’s a vulnerability about him, so he wants somebody who can be tender with his heart. you have to be able to cradle it in your hands gently.
although the wants a girl who is kind, he also wants somebody who can hold their own. this doesn’t negate their sweet nature, but he’s seen what frailty and gentleness mixed together can do and how much it can hurt.
patience is key! his wrath is unavoidable, like a bomb waiting to fizzle and burst, so you have to be able to handle his outbursts with maturity and grace.
like shu, he would love a girl who looks at the world as if it were precious. looking at a single rose as if it encompasses the whole world… to treat something so mundane with love is an admirable quality to him and it makes his cheeks and ears burn bright red.
someone who’s naturally joyful and warm! he’s so caught up in himself and his loneliness, so the only way you can nudge him out of his shell is through a sweet smile and a heart made of pure gold.
he just wants a lover who will treat him with care. he’s seen so much cruelty in his lifetime and it’s made him wary of others, but you? you’re like the opening rays of dawn after a long, dead-silent night.
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sarahsartistportfolio · 4 months
Text
SAGAU: A Rumor Spreads
Xiao’s addition to this
Forewarn: female reader, reader is virgin, so sorry there is no spice in Xiao's chapter but he is yearning for us hard, I shamelessly use my own name in this piece but hey isn't that the point of a self indulgent fantasy
And there’s no stopping these nosy rumors once they start going. What happens when they reach the ear of…
Xiao
“The goddess Sarah? A virgin? But she must be over thousands of years old?”
Xiao almost chokes on his sip of tea as he overhears the words spoken by two traders at Wangshu inn. He quickly regains his composure and although he’s tempted to just get up and walk away from this mendacious gossip about you, something completes him to stay. 
“I can't imagine going that long without any. Hmm I wonder…do you think she’s accepting consorts to share her bed?”
The two men laugh and the look Xiao casts them over his shoulders is nothing short of pure disgust. 
He hates it. Although he mostly avoids people, now when he does come within close enough range he has to listen to their dishonorable gossip about you.
He hates it because he knows you. He sees you, without delay, every time you are in Liyue. 
He knows your favorite tea, knows the sounds of your footsteps, knows that you fidget with your necklace when you’re nervous, knows that you are lonely.
Disgusting. He thinks as he overhears the townsfolk talk about such an intimate part of you. 
Do these rumors surprise him? Hmm mostly yes. Because while Xiao does know you to be reserved and shy he does see you as otherworldly beautiful. When you spoke about being human in your past life he naturally assumed someone like you must have had admirers fawning at your feet. 
So to think all this time you’ve been alone like him
He’s nervous to see you again. You’ve been away in Inazuma but you’ll be back soon, at his side. 
Surely he can just…pretend he hasn't heard these rumors. Feign ignorance for your sake.
“Sarah’s ship has arrived back from Inazuma earlier. Aren’t you going to greet her?”
But Xiao has no response for Zhongli.
There you are again, the same night you arrive back in Liyue you waste no time. There you are on the terrace of Wangshu Inn waiting for your adeptus. He can see you from miles away, leaning over the railing, white shawl wrapped tightly around your shoulders from the cool air. 
“Be careful.'' He speaks as he teleports and approaches you from behind.
Your eyes immediately light up when you see him, the way you say his name feels like a caress. 
“Xiao!”
He wears his usual stern expression with arms crossed.
“How was your trip?”
It's strange how freely and openly he talks around you. He doesn't know why. When the two of you are around each other it's like two introverts become extroverts.
He sits at the table that stands outside on the terrace. That was put there by you, so you two could enjoy tea together in privacy. 
You pour him a blend of Inazuman tea that you’ve brought back with you, as you recount your trip to the land of eternity.
Maybe Xiao can avoid the awkward topic of the rumor floating around. 
“...I know you must have heard the rumors Xiao.” 
Or maybe not
He stutters, golden cat like eyes widening at you for a second before turning his now red face away from you. 
“I-I’ve heard no such things.” He responds way too quickly.
You suppress a giggle as you tilt your head a bit trying to get a look at his flustered face.
“It's ok Xiao, although having something so private talked about is embarrassing.” You lean back in your chair, hands fidgeting with each other in your lap.
“If it's you, I don't mind if you know.”
His heart skips a beat, as he shyly brings his gaze back to your face. Or at least he tries to, occasionally glancing at your glass tea cup.
“I mean by the way I act around you, you probably already concluded that I have no relationship experience.” 
No I haven’t. You are far too exceptional to have not been taken already.
“But um…” You pull your shawl tighter around your shoulders, hands moving to rest around the hot tea cup to warm your fingers.
“This, this information, it doesn't change how you see me right?”
He catches the anxiousness in your voice. 
“No never.”
Again he answers uncharastically quickly. Like you have a string tied around his heart that you pull. His gaze meets your eyes and although the top of his cheeks are pink his gaze is unwavering as he spoke those words.
The smile you return to him stalls his breath in his lungs.
“I’m glad, that’s reassuring.”
….(small time skip to when you two have finished your tea idk how to convey this lol)
“I’ll stay with you tonight as you fall asleep.” 
“Awww.”
What to do. What to do. The phrase excruciatingly heavy at the back of his mind. You’ve long since fallen asleep. He stands over the side of your bed, lost in thought looking over your peaceful figure. You’re just…exceeding his expectations of what he believed the creator to be. He doesn’t deserve you. He does not. And yet he subconsciously finds his hand drifting towards your face, just barely brushing over your hair. You do not stir. Like you welcome his presence even in your sleep.
He can’t have someone like you. He was never meant for that. Your heart is too pure. It's like the physical world is reminding him of his thoughts as a wisp of green smoke curls down from his arm and touches your hair. Xiao immediately retracting his hand. If all he can be is a blade to protect you then so be it. If sharing a cup of tea and listening to you recount your day brings a smile to your face, he will allow it. But to dare wish for more than that is not his place. It's painful, as he prepares to leave your room, looking at Dihua Marsh from your window. Every instinct in his body begging to look back at you one more time. Its painful, he tells himself, but he can shoulder it just as he’s done many times before. 
Would this new information change anything? No, not really. 
Becomes a little more protective of you(if that’s even possible). Oh but unlike Cyno he does now actively try to dissuade you from entering a romantic relationship, mostly with mortals. 
In the sense he’ll say things like,
“Don’t trust them.” “They’re just using you.” and maybe a tender “In the end you’re just going to end up getting hurt…and I don't want to see that.”
!! Oh but like I said above he would find it extremely disrespectful to find anyone talking about you in a sexual way(even if that other person was actively your own partner) 
Like literally in the most threatening sharpest tone ever “Do not speak of such undeferential matters concerning our god in my presence.”
110% that character that does not tolerate blasphemy spoken about you. Will defend you verbally even when you’re not there. 
181 notes · View notes
onlyswan · 2 years
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summary: in which jungkook doesn’t understand you sometimes.
> fluff, suggestive / wc: 2.8k
> warnings: making out, oc likes calling him baby boy okayyyy
note: protective boyfriend jungkook i love you
with a sigh, you pull a sweatshirt over your head as the neighbor’s landline telephone continues ringing like it has been doing for the past hour. you shove your wallet in the deep pocket of your sweatpants, holding your phone as you shut the front door of your apartment.
the chilly air of the night engulfs you, and it makes you yawn again. you sniffle and wipe away the shallow tears at the very corners of your eyes, shivering like a leaf.
you feel a sense of relief wash over you when the familiar lights of the 24-hour convenience store appear before your eyes. the bells ring as you push the door open. there’s a few people inside, most probably looking for a cheap and quick late night dinner or snack.
you come back out with the tip of the watermelon slice popsicle between your lips. you skip along the quiet road, freely crossing to the empty playground illuminated by the warm streetlights. you make sure the swing is not dirty nor wet before sitting on it, pushing your feet on the ground to make it rock back and forth gently.
you scroll through instagram mindlessly, double tapping without even looking closely at the pictures appearing momentarily on your screen. celebrities. tattoo shops. art accounts. best friends. friends. friends you don’t talk to anymore.
your popsicle is halfway finished when the contact name ‘my baby’ pops on top of your screen.
my baby: Just got off work.. It was fun but tiring :( I hope you’re sleeping well. Goodnight I love you♡
you read it over and over again, a smile spreading on your lips. while jungkook constantly updates you throughout the day, it’s more often that you wake up to his goodnight messages. you happily start typing up a reply until your smile drops when you realize that you should be asleep on your bed, not riding a swing at almost two in the morning.
you slowly tap the backspace to delete one letter at a time, just as the popsicle dissolves on your tongue slowly as well. he scolds you when you go out of the house late at night, but the neighbor’s telephone and your own thoughts became too unbearable, and you just had to get some fresh air outside to maybe help you get a more comfortable sleep later, albeit late.
“oh fuck,” you curse with a wince when your phone plays a familiar ringtone, your boyfriend’s face and contact name shoved infront of your face. you have no other choice but to answer his call now.
“hey, baby. why are you still up? can’t sleep?” he sounds sweet and tender, voice quieter than it usually is as if he’s afraid of waking up. you’re fully awake right now, though.
it makes you smile again as you carry on with finishing your cold snack. “how did you know?”
“the three dots . . .” he trailed off with a laugh, and you can already imagine him shaking his head at you. “i always leave my phone open to our convo when i’m driving and they kept appearing and disappearing.”
“why the hell do you do that?” you whine, embarrassed by the way that you got caught in the headlights.
“incase there’s an emergency. so i can see it right away. it worked just now, see?” he answers proudly.
you kick your feet on the ground to express the giddiness he never fails to make you feel. he still surprises you with his thoughtfulness. “me having a hard time sleeping is an emergency?”
“of course, that’s not healthy! i can hear you eating ice cream, too. hmm, or is that a popsicle?”
you leave the remaining small piece of watermelon inside your mouth, the wooden stick hanging between your lips, before putting your hand over it in surprise.
“baby, what did i tell you about not going out alone at night? you should’ve called me.”
the thing is jungkook scolds you in such a tender manner that you immediately feel guilty for being stubborn. sure, you’ve had small fights here and there, but he has never raised his voice at you. while it’s true that he doesn’t want to scare you in any way, it’s really more that he can never get that upset or angry with you. he never projects his anger with others to you either. when he’s in a foul mood, he explains it to you and takes his time to cool off before spending time with you again. the usual remedy for this is boxing, and he lets you tag along and watch him train slash release the negativity in his body when you have the time. boxing, gaming, cursing movie or show villains. those are the only times you can recall seeing him angry on different levels.
“it’s so late. i didn’t want to bother you because i know you had a late schedule.” you confess, words slightly slurred because of the melting popsicle in your mouth. you quickly jog to the trash bins to throw away the stick before going back to your previous spot on the swing.
“just call me no matter what, baby, please? you know that i’m proud of you for being fearless, but i’m not.”
his pleading voice tugs at your heartstrings, and it takes everything in you not to squeal because there is currently no pillow that can hide that eardrum-shattering sound. “yah, what is this? why are you the sweetest boyfriend ever?”
“i am, aren’t i?” he answers cheekily, chuckling as you come into view. “then be good for your boyfriend and stop swinging so high like you’re riding the vikings.”
“how the fuck did you-” you stare at your phone in offense when you get cut off by the sound of the call being dropped. and then a familiar car parks only a few meters infront of you. out jungkook’s favorite stompers go before the rest of his body follows. huh, you thought these kind of scenarios only happened in the dramas.
he speed walks towards you, strong hands grabbing the chains to stabilize the swing that made you feel as though you were flying in the sky. well, it was nice while it lasted.
“hey, i was having fun.” you look up to him with a pout.
he roughly tugs at his black face mask to take it off, revealing the rest of his face to you. your pretty, bare-faced jungkook.
“how else will i kiss you if you keep on swinging like that?” he asks rhetorically as he hungrily eyes your glossy lips shaded red from the popsicle you consumed. he bends to connect his lips with yours, securely holding your face in his hands. his tongue begs for entrance, and you indulge him with rapture.
he licks his lips as he pulls away, the refreshing flavor heavily similar to your favorite lip balm and fruit shake order. “you’re making me addicted to watermelon.”
“i bought it to celebrate.”
“hmm, celebrate what? did i miss something?”
“i got a failing grade in chemistry!” you share with a delighted grin, and his mouth hangs open in utter confusion. he squats down to level with you as he tries to piece together the information he just learned and your bright enthusiasm about it.
“it’s not like i did it on purpose, you know? i really tried my best. but like, so this is what it feels like to fail! ah, i can’t believe it that i keep laughing when i think about it.” you slap your thigh as you hunch over in laughter. your forehead falls on his shoulder as your body shakes, and he shifts his weight to accommodate yours as well.
“baby, are you okay? isn’t this the denial stage? you-you can cry it out, if that’s what you need. it’s okay.” he strokes your hair comfortingly, pressing a small kiss on where your neck and shoulder meet.
he clearly recalls you crying a month ago, rambling about how you don’t understand anything about the subject because your new professor is a condescending asshole. that is the same reaction he is expecting, if not worse.
wait, isn’t it this the worse? has my baby succumbed into insanity?
you pull away with wide eyes, and he finds you so adorable he can’t help but to give you another kiss on the corner of your mouth while you talk. “no, no- i’m really okay. instead of sulking about my failure, i’m celebrating the new experience!”
“why do you look happier than when you get good grades?” he finds himself copying the same amused smile painted on your face, astounded by the mindset you’re choosing to go with. he has learned a new thing from you today: how to see life from a fresh and insightful perspective.
what a tender spirit you are, one he swears to cherish and protect.
“i don’t know either. why do i find it so funny?”
“i’m just glad you’re not beating yourself up over it.” he tucks your hair behind your right ear, gazing at you lovingly. his touch grazes down until it reaches your chin, tilting it down so his eyes can meet yours. “you’ll do better next time. i should help you study! we will ace it!”
“i don’t think i will.” you admit with a giggle, throwing your arms around jungkook. he stumbles back a bit until he hangs on the chains of the swing for balance. “but i won’t turn down the chance to spend more time with you.”
your words make his expression soften, and he buries his face in your neck to inhale your natural scent. “right after i sent my text i decided to turn around and come over to your place because i miss you.”
“oh, that’s how you found me then?”
“i didn’t have to find you. you stand out more than you think.”
you pull away, leaving your wrists limp over his shoulders. “like in a good way?”
“in a dangerous way. who rides the playground swing like an amusement park ride at this time? only you.” he quirks an eyebrow, hand squeezing your face to make your pout pop out.
after your boyfriend spelled out what you were doing before he arrived, your expression darkens in realization of how dumb you must’ve looked all alone in the playground.
“that sounds more like something you’d do. you just rubbed off on me.” you remark with a huff, holding his wrist to push his hand away.
“whatever helps you sleep at night, baby. let’s go home so we can cuddle.” he stands up to tower over you once again.
you frown in response, getting annoyed as the ringing sound plays in your head again. “don’t want to. the neighbor’s phone might still be ringing.”
“again?” this is the third time you’re complaining about it to him. “my place then.”
he chuckles when you spring on your feet swiftly, tugging him towards his car like a child forcing their parent to the toy store.
“wait, i’m craving that watermelon popsicle. let’s go there first.” he points at the deserted convenience store on the other side of the street.
you halt on your tracks, looking back at him with sad puppy eyes. “am i no longer enough for you? now you need the real thing?”
he scratches his head, caught off guard. “babe-”
you hide a smile, entertained with his reactions when you play around with his feelings. “okay, fine. my treat, since we’re celebrating.”
the cashier looks up from his phone to be greeted by a familiar customer purchasing the same item they did only thirty minutes ago. the only difference is that there’s a tattooed arm hanging on your shoulder this time around, which also smoothly leads you outside after you pay.
jungkook pulls you on his lap before you can even take a single step towards the chair facing him. an arm securely wraps around your waist as he devours the celebratory sweet treat you bought him. he poses for your front camera, making his doe eyes appear bigger as he bites off the tip of the watermelon slice. the red bumper light of a car passing by shines on his face.
he offers you a taste after, letting you suckle on it as he holds it up for you because you’re too preoccupied with checking the photos that you took. and as corny as it may sound, it hits him there and then. the epiphany that love shouldn’t be as difficult as he originally thought.
it shouldn’t be intense that it messes with his head, leaves him unable to function. it shouldn’t give him the same rush as driving a race car. it shouldn’t be crying and screaming and begging. he doesn’t need to slay a dragon, or sacrifice a part of himself. it takes work, but it doesn’t take away from him. because this, this trivial moment fulfills him in magnificent ways he can’t even dare to comprehend. because you have occupied all the space in his heart and made a home out of it— staying put through droughts and winters. because- god, because you redirect his hand to his mouth and mumble an affectionate my love, it’s yours and suddenly he wants to write you another love song on the spot.
“are you sure that you’re okay?” he checks up on you again, concerned that you might just be pretending to not be affected by your grade to avoid worrying him.
“i am. i really am!” you laugh, not tearing your eyes away from your screen as you scroll through instagram again. “i know i did the best i could at the moment, and that’s enough, because i can’t be the best at everything. i found my weakness as an imperfect human. i was bound to fail something at some point. it’s just the way life is. if i dwell on it too much, i’ll just end up failing my other subjects too.”
you may not be perfect based on your dictionary, but to jungkook, you are. so perfectly human, so perfectly you. your favorite flavor exploding sweet fireworks in his mouth. it’s so perfect how it’s so you.
“but if you ever feel sad, just remember that i’m by your side, okay?” he rubs your stomach, resting his chin on your shoulder to subtly take a peek of your instagram feed. huh, someone is on a honeymoon at greece. should he add it to his list since you liked the post?
“i know that you are, baby. besides, some did even worse than me so that helped me move on faster.”
his breath tickles your ears when he chortles at your confession, and you flinch with a giggle. “then should i help you study to do better than everyone? i’ll behave this time, i promise.”
you turn to look at him with a challenging look. “then that means none of that one right answer, one make-out session game again, right?”
he pouts at the mention of the game that got him banned from your study time months ago. “i’ll follow the rules this time. just a peck.”
you roll your eyes. “yeah, i don’t trust you.”
truth be told, you don’t trust yourself more.
“just behave and i’ll kiss you after we study, baby boy.”
he sighs in defeat, a hopeless case once you refer to him with the pet name. “can i have kiss right now then?”
you bite off the last piece of popsicle on the stick before sharing a french kiss with him. you caress his face gently, feeling the dips of his dimples as his tongue dances with yours. he pulls away with a satisfied hum, heart beating so loud he can feel it in his ears. with you, he never knows what he’s gonna get. he swallows down the remaining piece of the dessert, about the size of a pebble, that somehow ended up in his mouth. your hazy eyes follow the way his adam’s apple bobs, licking your lips unconsciously.
your shameless act doesn’t escape him. he chuckles as he wipes your wet chin with his black shirt. “you’re a messy eater.”
“but you like it when i’m sloppy-” you squeal when he covers your mouth with the cloth supposedly covering his abdomen, giggling uncontrollably as you paw at his forearms until he releases you.
you stand up to leave and he smacks your butt before following you. “you’re such a menace.”
“hurry! it’s so cold, i’m dying.” you complain, lacing your freezing hand with his.
he clicks his tongue, thinking about how questionable you are for eating a popsicle when you’re freezing your ass off. more so if he includes the fact that you bought it to commemorate your failing grade.
“wanna eat ramen at my place?”
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oneshotnewbie · 9 months
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A jogger finds a phone and calls the cops. When they take it and put it into a zip back, they accidentally turn on the phone - revealing a picture of The Captain of the SVU and Reader?
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Possible trigger warning: This one-shot includes the mention of blood and kidnapping, the plots are presented. If this triggers you too easily or you just can´t handle the subject, I urge you NOT to read this work. I am NOT embellishing this topic under any circumstance. Read at your own risk.
ᕚ---ᕘ
William Jacobs ran across the Brooklyn Bridge at the same time every morning, trying to beat his best time. But today he desperately thought about turning back and skipping today's sports session - the weather was playing into his cards.
Despite all the negative voices in his head, the young man ran from the Brooklyn bridge to the Manhattan Central Park and back. At this early hour there were hardly any passers-by and only occasionally a few cars drove past. As he took his first step off the bridge, he was inspired by the release of happiness hormones and increased his pace.
William loved being able to look out over the East River and let his thoughts and feelings flow freely. His black hair flowed in the wind and was dampened by the drizzle, her ragged breathing evident in the chill of dawn. When he managed halfway of his way, he was panting like never before in his life - the cold air making it harder to force enough air through his lungs. The young man felt the slight sting in his side, but did not hesitate to stop.
It was not until his head moved towards the entrance of the Central Park that he saw something blue and shimmery lying on the ground. Confused, he stopped and cautiously approached the object, peering left and right to locate other people.
Startled, he jumped back and almost stepped into the street when he saw red-brown stains around it, some of them even splattered on the cell phone he had found. William did not even hear the car behind him screeching to a stop next to him and the car door being opened with an aggressive jerk. "Are you crazy? I almost ran you over!"
But the young man did not answer the older women. She looked at the black-haired guy and saw fear and disgust on his face. His shaky fingers pointed to the main reason he stopped, which was why the woman looked confused on the ground and shortly after promptly walked back to her car in shock. "We have to alert the police." he shouted in a shrill, abnormally bright voice. The stranger nodded her head and pulled her cell phone out of the glove compartment of her red car. She quickly tapped on her phone and held it trembling against her ear.
"Emergency call center, how can I help you?" A calm voice asked on the other end of the line, beginning to type on her keyboard to find out the location of the caller. "We found a phone." she spoke anxiously, earning a sigh from the 911 agent. "Mam, you know this is not an emergency, right?"
William looked confused at the device in the old lady's hand, and in his adrenaline rush he did not quite understand why the sigh was being given. So he quickly snatched the cell phone from her and continued the conversation. "Listen. Here is a cell phone lying at the entrance to Central Park, covered in blood splatters. I also recognize an original NYPD cell phone case."
“Which entrance are you at?” the woman's low voice slowly calmed his rapidly beating heart. He took a deep breath while trying not to let his mind sink into a hole of horror scenarios. He looked around, trying to figure out which entrance he really was at. "Fifth Avenue at the Plaza Hotel,"
"Do not touch anything. I will send you a unit."
ᕚ---ᕘ
The gentle rain pattered quietly against Olivia's bedroom windows and made her open her eyes just a crack wide. Her tired gaze glowered out and a hand brushed over her face as she watched the night slowly fade away. Her attention turned to the other side of the bed, her fingers curling into the cold sheets next to her.
Her fiancée was no longer lying next to her and she sighed heavily. She usually woke up before you almost every morning, kissing along your naked spine stroking her hand with pleasure over your sides before she remained on your bare hip, waking you up for another day. Olivia loved waking up next to you since she shared a bed with you and enjoyed every minute of it. But she respected your exercise routine in the early hours of the morning and was in no way offended if she started the day without you.
The brunette tried to close her eyes for another five minutes, but quickly abandoned the idea when her cell phone rang. A little angry, she felt around on the bedside table for the annoying-sounding device and answered the call. "Lieutenant Benson?" she sighed loudly, already pulling the blanket off her body.
The brunette, half asleep, rummaged through her closet for some clothes and ran into the bathroom to get ready. "Central Park, I will be right there." When she ended the conversation, she tried to reach you on your cell phone to take you home, but her attempt came to nothing and she did not think about it any further - you had already put your phone on silent often enough to avoid being distracted.
After quickly downing a cup of coffee to wake herself up, she pulled her coat off the hook and slipped through the door into the day's events. The rain worsened on the way to the crime scene, washing every possible mess back into the sewers. When she got out, Amanda and Fin were already standing at the cordoned off area that had been created to protect the evidence from the rain. "What do we have?"
"A blood-spattered cell phone," the blonde expressed, gratefully accepting an evidence bag from another officer. She carefully placed the found object in it and handed it to her boss. "A cell phone? Why were we called?" the Sergent and the detective shrugged and raised their hands in question. "The caller thought it was a cell phone belonging to one of our colleagues, which is why we were notified because a significant amount of blood was found next to it."
Olivia nodded, looking worriedly at the phone in her hand. You had the same case around your phone, she had given it to you as a small gift. She turned it around so the screen was facing her and her heart skipped a beat when she saw the scratch on it. The brunette had almost caused the same one on your phone when she saved you from a bullet a couple months ago.
She always wanted to have it repaired but you would not let her - it was a memory for you. "Liv, are you okay?" Finn asked worriedly, watching as the color suddenly drained from his best friend's face. She nodded in response, looking back from the evidence to the paving stone. A good amount of blood that was not easy to ignore. "Yeah, it is just.."
The tough woman could not finish the sentence right away. The screen turned on on its own, showing a reminder notification on the display. Underneath you could clearly see two smiling faces smeared with light gray paint as a background image.
She recognized the image immediately. Olivia shot it herself when you were recoloring your bedroom together. Olivia swallowed hard, the phone shaking in her hands as she tried to suppress her rising panic. “It is y/n’s. It is her phone."
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maopll · 1 year
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I have a request!! AHEM (fluff) rainy days w/ blade or jing yuan or dan heng or all three if you can 🥺✨ THANK U 🫶
— UNDER THE RAIN : #honkai star rail !
⌗:, a/n: first hsr request!! my favourite trio
⌗:, warning: none
⌗:,pairings: blade, jing yuan & dan heng w/ gn!reader
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— BLADE
Relaxing and having fun are two verbs which do not exist in his dictionary. He may be stoic all the time but just like any ordinary being he also wishes, no, yearn to be with you. To melt in your arms, away from the worries and darkness of the world.
"Blade, look ! it's raining. " you two were currently on a mission. The streets at the moment were empty so for two wanted people it was safe, for now. He humed looking at the sky "we should get a nearby shelter. It is poring outside" and just as he was about to find one, you pulled his arms and led him into the rain. "oh come one we don't get opportunities like this. Streets empty, and a rainy day." He loved you from deep within but showing those affections in the right way were a task for him. However, you bright smile in this dark world were a beacon of light for him.
A smile escaped from his lips, a pure smile and lovesick eyes. He held you hands and said "since you asked for it, stay close to me darling". Romancing with you freely without any worries seemed like a far fetched dream but what he wouldn't do to relive these again.
— JING YUAN
It was a holiday and surprisingly the General was not running to and fro and was comfortably dozing off on your lap. The sky was overcast with dark clouds and thunder could be heard off in the distance. Rain wasn't really a common occurrence in the Luofu but you couldn't really ignore the skip of your heart. Dancing and playing in the rain were your favourite activities. Jing Yuan noticed your longing eyes "if you really want to go outside then you should do it. " to which you replied "oh well I can't waltz by myself now I'll need someone to accompany me" "I'd rather sleep" now you knew your greatest weapon against him was puppy eyes. He begrudgingly agreed to your whims.
The rain started, and he did not like getting soaked wet, and he truly wanted to go inside but your enthusiastic smile were priceless. He didn't really have the heart to tell you to go back just because he didn't like the rain. Afterall rain like these were indeed few and far in-between.
You twirled and followed the footsteps of your lover, the pure look of adoration on his eyes and the dreamy scene was enchanting. Oh, how much he would travel galaxies just to make memories with his love.
— DAN HENG
He barely shows few emotions but with you and his family he feels one and whole. The sky was grey indicating a downpour and the streets were soon starting to get emptied because of the incoming rain. You lover as usual was going through research papers and telegraph which go into detail about the opponents found in the present planet.
The weather soon started to get cold enough and what better way to get warm other than your own boyfriend hugging you close and cuddling you until you get warm and snuggled good. "um babe don't you think it's quite cold now?" "well it is indeed cold dear" "so I'm cold right?" "grab a blanket then". Sometimes he acts as if he doesn't understand what you are trying to hint at but today it was especially quite cold because of the rain. " *sigh* fine fine I'll join you" you did you happy dance of victory and got ready to cuddle him.
He pulled you close to his chest and patted your head. The patter of rain and the soft heartbeat of your lover lulled you to sleep.The warmth only further had you drift off into slumber. He kissed you on the forehead. "goodnight my star" and also let sleep take over his form.
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poetryvampire · 12 days
Text
The Song of Rolan
Dingdong! Horny Rolan posting hours again. I started writing head canons for how vocal our lovely wizard can get. It got a bit long so I turned it in a little fic. Also sorry for the name im a lit nerd
Words: 2,705
Rating: Explicit
Rolan x AFAB! Reader
Prompt: Rolan's voice drives you crazy. But he has a terrible habit of stifling all his pretty little noises in bed. You help him fix that.
Tags: teasing, pointy ear play, a touch of edging, dry humping, sloppy oral, p and v sex, bit of overstimulation, creampie, riding that tiefling straight to hell and back
It was an understatement to say you were proud of Rolan. He was an accomplished wizard, loving brother and - in your opinion-the perfect partner. One that you could see yourself spending the rest of your days with. That's not to say he didn't get on your nerves. Not only with his grumpy tendencies but more so with his habit of over working.  You adored his passion and drive to further his studies but it had led to more and more long lonely nights. Either from him traveling with colleagues or the tiefling locking himself in his study to work on a multitude of projects until morning light. 
He had returned home only yesterday having spent almost two full weeks away and yet he still seems dead set to spend all evening pouring over his notes. The Wizard's focus was getting worse by the day. Not that he hadn't been overjoyed to see you. He had practically knocked you off your feet with the intensity of his hug when he came striding through the door. You had spent hours locked in each other's arms in your large shared bed. Steadily he moved between tales of his journey and peppering your skin with feverish kisses.
Rolan had taken you greedily. Frantic, practically tripping over himself trying to touch all of you at once. He couldn't quite find a voice for his needs but you swayed to him happily, matching his clumsy passion. There was plenty of the time to truly savor each other. But still your patience was running thin.
Somehow you had once again found yourself in an empty bedroom starving for your partner. Last night had been a sweet reunion but it did little to quell the fire Rolan lad lit in you while he was away. He had only been gone a few days when a letter arrived that left you breathless. Deciding to skip over the details of his journey he focused instead on his longing for you.
'What little beauty there is to be had here is dwarfed a thousand times by the thought of you. I dream of you always. Of being wrapped in your divine cunt. Of feeling it pulse against my tongue. Gods, I am your slave. Use me only for your pleasure. Let me worship you, my heart.'
His words rang in your head even now, pooling that familiar heat down below. How you wanted him. Wanted to hear such words from his own lips. From the moment you met you’d been in love with the deep rumble of his voice. Nothing gave you such satisfaction as pulling music from Rolan’s lips as you made love. It wasn't easy. Even still he had trouble fully letting himself go. Often he would stifle his words and moans to your great dismay. You recall gazing up at him as you ran your tongue over his length to find his hand clamped tightly over his mouth muffling his cries. A senseless action as you two had been the only people home at the time.  
Swiftly you move to your wardrobe every drop of patience spent. You need him; to wring every moan, grunt and whimper out of that man or it would kill you. He deserves to relish in and express his pleasure freely. Perhaps he just needs a little push.
Much to your relief the tower was empty by this hour. You moved lightly through the halls wearing nothing but a sheer purple dressing gown.
You tap your knuckles against the hard oak door as you enter his study. He was exactly as you had pictured him, four open books across his desk and him writing furiously.
"Beloved!" He half glances at you as he takes a quick slip from his wine glass. "Now don't worry," he continues flipping pages. "I hadn't forgotten about you. This was intended to be a short little report but I just keep finding revisions that seem a shame not to add."
Going above and beyond as always. You can't help but smile as you watch him, those tantalizing eyes darting from paper to paper. Just the sight of him makes the warmth of excitement flare in you. You feel your nipples hardening against the thin fabric you wore. He's dressed down; the lacing on his ruffled white shirt undone to his mid chest and sleeves pushed up past the elbow. Such a small glimpse of extra skin makes your heart race. Hopefully you can rise the same reaction.
"You have such a way with words it would be rude not to." You purr, moving to his side.
"I'll be done soon, truly." He can hear the need in your voice. "Then I'm all yours."
You hum amused as you lift his glass to take a deep drink.
"You sound like you don't believe me." Rolan's hand passes through the space once hosting his glass. "Have I ever let you down in the-"
His eyes finally snap to you and his words catch sharply in his throat, blood rushing to his face. You laugh, finishing the glass.
" What's the matter, my love? You're usually so generous with your words."
"I- I-you," He stammers.
"I seem to remember such generosity in a letter you wrote."
You undo the gown. His eyes fix on you as you let it fall to the floor. As many times as he's seen it the sight of you in your full glory drives him wild. 
"Do you remember that letter?"
"Oh, of course." His voice is barely a whisper, his body tense as if ready to pounce on you.
To his surprise you straddle him and his hands fly to your hips drawing you closer. Both of you groan into a deep kiss as you grind yourself down against the quickly growing tent in his trousers.
"Do you want to please me?" You growl half into his mouth.
"More than anything." He gasps between kisses. 
You pull away, placing a finger over his lips. His beaming cheeks and  pleading eyes stoke your maddening hunger for him.
"Then let me please you. I need to feel it and hear it. Let me drown in you, Rolan."
"Gods above," He groans.
You can see he's already holding back. But you would have to help him along by targeting his weak points. You start with his neck, ghosting your lips over him, letting the tension build. Your hot breath sends a shiver down his spine as he grasps your thighs trying to push you on.
At last you press your lips to his skin earning a soft hiss. You try to go slow but make your need apparent with the ferocity of your mouth. A deep sigh escapes him as you attack his jawline, sucking and teasing as you go. Rolan bucks his hips suddenly, huffing. He's too shy to ask but he's dying for you to touch his ears.
A quick bite to the lobe earns another sharp gasp. You laugh knitting your fingers through his hair- Gods his sounds make your heart flutter.
"Oh? Did you like that, my love?" You coo into his neck. There's words on his lips but they melt away as your tongue slowly traces the shell of his ear right to the tip. "Hhm? What was that? Are you unsure? But you're usually so strong in your convictions."  You repeat the action making him squirm underneath you. You grind down on his bulge creating a delicious friction. "However can I know you're enjoying yourself if you don't tell me?"
"It's good." He chokes out at last, meeting the movements of your eager hips.
"What is? We can't all be scholars you know." You draw away from him slightly. "What do you want?"
He laughs as a devilish grin spreads across his parted lips.
"Everything. You're so, you're so- " his words falter. He still feels your breath on him but the lack of contact makes it clear you're waiting. It's only in times like this when Rolan has difficulty summoning words.
"I've never heard of a wizard so speechless." You goad him and start to move away. "Must want to get back to his dusty old books rather than-"
"No!" He cries, locking his arms around you keeping you in place. "Your mouth- your tongue feels so fucking good I can't stand it."
You lick a strip down his neck while bringing your hands to the sides of his head, making sure to brush your fingers across the points of his ears, pulling a low shudder from him.
"There's the man that wrote me such an inspiring letter. That made me plunge my fingers in myself and dream of his cock."
He swears through his teeth, his eyes sparkling with desire.
"And where do you want my mouth?" You continue practically able to feel the heat flash across his face. Your tongue slides across his clavicle  and then moves lower to lap at the ridges on his chest. "Here, then?"
'No,' he breathes.
You swear you can feel him twitch in his pants. Moving your mouth lower you open his shirt completely and do away with it. You stop at the sharp ridge above his stomach.
"Oh, here?"
He shakes his head, face now blazing hot.  Pained whines fall from him as your mouth climbs back up the path of his chest. It isn't until you graze his Adam's apple that he breaks.
"My cock! Fuck I need your mouth on my cock. I need it now, please." He pleads like his life is at stake.
Instantly you're on the floor in front of him pushing his legs apart. You let out a moan yourself once you've sprung him free. You admire just how heavy he is in your hands and run your fingers over the ridges you wish were currently pounding into you.
With a throaty gasp a few drops of precum spill from his head just as you flick your tongue over it. You don't make him wait long before you take him into your mouth.
His moans ring through the room; the music you've been dying to hear. You waste no time taking him apart. Your mouth runs up and down his full length as you hollow your cheeks.  With a loud pop you release him, a string of saliva still connecting you.
Rolan stairs transfixed, his exquisitely carved chest rising and falling rapidly.
"Like this?"
"Yes! Love, it's perfect. Keep sucking, just like that."
Before the words are past his lips you've swallowed him down again, your eyes never leaving his. Now comes your turn to rid the fears that hold you back. As you bob your head you make no mind of the symphony of wet, lewd noises filling the air.
The obscene display tears a guttural groan from him. Unable to hold off any longer move you press a hand to your wetness as you relish taking him like this. The feel, the sound, the smell. It was quite literally making your mouth water. You switch to running your tongue from base to tip stopping only to tease him with a few quick flicks at his head. Drunk on lust at the sounds of his grunts and murmurs you dip your fingers into your dripping hole. 
"Nine hells." He shakes out, breathing hard. "Tell me, what have I done to deserve such adoration?”
Rolan’s eye then focuses on your hands. One pleasuring yourself and the other roaming your own body. You throw your head back with a soft sigh, his unyielding gaze intensifying your pleasure.
"What a wanton little thing you are." Rolan licks his lips in awe.
You protest for a moment as he snatches your hand away from your sex but hum in approval as he licks them clean.
"You sweet thing.”He coos after slowly releasing your digits. “Let me take care of that."
The swift flourish of magic swirls pass and you scream as you find yourself tumbling back on the plush blankets of your bed. Somehow it still catches you off guard.
Rolan has your legs pushed apart in seconds, taking a moment to breathe you in before going to work. Gently pulling your folds open his expert fingers, his tongue ravished you with the same pace you had set. In moments he had your hips shaking involuntarily. Each painfully sweet lash on your clit making you chant his name.
Yet you still weren't sated in your need to watch your lover twist in ecstasy. Taking him by the horns you pull his mouth to yours, lapping at his lips to savor the taste of your sex.
"How can I be of service?" Rolan purrs, a wicked smile forming.
"Lay back.”
He complies and you straddle his hips once more. You drag your core against his agonizingly hard cock. Now you were free to delight in the bumps and ridges you so adored. Your slick coats you both allowing you to slide over him with ease.
Rolan tries to caress you but you pull his hands away and pin them to the bed making him shudder.
"No, love. Leave them here." You roll your hips slowly bearing down, pushing a sharp whimper from his throat. "You just focus on this." Another roll, another whine. As you move your hands away he digs his claws into the sheets to obey. His eyes rake over you, especially as your speed increases. The sight of your breasts bouncing never failed to make him feral with lust. 
Quickly the last of his composure is slipping away as you grind over him. His hair framing his face wildly, his body trembling with effort not to take control and plunge into you. He howls when his tip catches on your entrance.
"Oh is this what you want now? What a greedy thing you are."  You tease.
"Please, mercy." he rasps out as you lower yourself ever so slightly only to pull away. “Give it to me, please! Love, I need you.” 
“How do you need me?” you wiggle your hips, toying with him. 
“I need to be inside.” He breathes, his frustration palpable as his tail snaps against the mattress. 
With unsteady thighs you sink enough to just take in his tip before slowly drawing back.
“Fuck, I need you.” Rolan cries, his voice breaking “I need to stretch that perfect tight little cunt. To feel it cum all over my cock. Gods, please fuck me!” 
Unable to hold back any longer your body obeys and you take all of him at once. The sudden action rips a howl from you both. The slight pain and overwhelming pleasure of being so full does little to slow you down and you continue your animalistic pace. 
The song spilling from Rolan’s lips has you intoxicated utterly. It’s a lurid rumble of repeating ‘yes’ and ‘please’ and ‘fuck me’ and words in his own native tongue. You ride his cock with all you have drinking in the sight of him. His claws deep in the mattress now, he’s writhing and wailing below you. 
Finally you pull his hands to your hips and his body jumps to match your rhythm. He’s practically sobbing now, eyes swimming with rapture and concentration as he drives himself into you. A spike of heat pulls at your core and with another desperate thrust you come undone, clenching uncontrollably around him. Another wave of unbearable pleasure hits you as your lover pulses and spills his hot load inside of you. He rides it out, ending his flurry of moans with a few deep ragged breaths. 
Rolan catches you in his arms before you even realize you’ve started to fall forward and presses you to his chest. You languish there enjoying the rhythm of his heartbeat. 
“I don’t deserve you.” he says, tangling his fingers in your hair. 
“You’re so dramatic” you sigh “I’ve just missed you. A lot.”   
“Well, with a greeting like that I have half a mind to leave you more often.” he smirks. 
“Don’t you dare,” you warn. 
“Of course not. I wouldn’t dream of it.” Rolan kisses the top of your head, holding you tightly to him until you both fall into slumber. 
Thanks for reading! 
Much love <3
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propertyofkylar · 2 months
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beach date with kylar but you wear the skimpiest bikini known to man so he has to forcibly shield you with his own body and stolen beach towels. once you get back to his manor you can roam freely though!!! please please please sit in his lap
"Kylar, I'm ready!"
You strolled out of the changing room after tying up your bikini top with a big smile on your face. Kylar was leaning against the wall waiting for you. But when he turned to you, his own smile quickly disappeared.
"Wh-what are you wearing?" His eyes were wide and his hands dropped to cover the front of his swim trunks.
You frowned. "A bikini...?"
Kylar gulped. "Yeah, but..." His eyes ran over your body as he searched for the right words. "It's so small!"
"My school swimsuit got torn and this was the only one I could afford," you said, lightly tugging at your waistband. "I think my tits have gotten bigger too..."
Kylar's face went red and he quickly stood in front of you, grabbing his towel to cover your back. "You can't let people see you like this!" He whispered. "They'll-they'll think lewd things about you!"
Honestly, you weren't sure why he was so worked up. "Kylar, it's a beach. I think most people here are dressed similarly."
He simply shook his head and moved closer to you. "You shouldn't let perverts see you. It's not safe," he mumbled. But when you felt his erection press against your thigh, it made you smile.
"Aw, are you jealous?" You teased, and he blushed harder.
"W-well...i-it's just that...people are terrible!" He said. "They'll get the wrong idea about you a-and...you don't know what they might try to do to you!"
"But you'll protect me, right?" You leaned in and whispered into his ear. You heard him swallow and subconsciously grind his hips forward.
"O-of course," he whimpered. "I would do anything to keep you safe, m-my love!"
You grinned, and pressed a kiss to his jaw. "Why don't we skip the beach and go back to your place? That way, only you'll get to see me like this..."
Kylar almost tripped with how quickly he tried to leave, but looked back in confusion when you didn't move.
"We still need to grab our clothes, you know..." you pointed out. He flushed again.
"Right..."
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