#toys are friends not foe | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nanaslutt · 6 months

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Okay but perv Geto is so fucking good and so fucking accurate what if he caught reader using the shower head on herself and decided he would do her one better 👀

perv geto<3 my luv

contains: fem reader, voyerism, perv!geto masturbation(r!&geto), so much dirty talk, sexual tension, praise, degradation, unprotected sex, shower sex, whipped!geto, softer ending, implied aftercare

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

“Fuuuu-mmm” you slapped a hand over your mouth to conceal your wines as the strong stream of water from the shower head hit your clit perfectly— the perfect temperature, the perfect pressure.

You had started out standing but quickly decided to make yourself as comfortable as possible on the smooth tile of the shower floor when you realized how intense the stimulation was.

Your legs were spread while you bucked your hips against the stream or water. Your body was jerking and jolting at the sensation of the water caressing just right under the hood of your clit.

You held your breath as the warm water brought you closer and closer to your high, jaw dropping and eyebrows scrunching together as you were pushed off the edge.

“Haaaa-aaah fuck-“ you whined a little too loudly. You felt your walls clench around nothing as your orgasm washed through your body, the warm steady pressure of water was working you over so well, prolonging the intense feeling as you jerked and gasped into the small room of the bathroom.

shlick shlick shlick

“Fuuuuck… cmon go again, do it again..” Geto whispered under his breath from the other side of the door.

You knew you weren’t being relatively as quiet as you know you should’ve been; having a roomate in the house; but you figured the water would drown out most of your noises.

You could not have been more wrong.

For the past five or so minutes that you had been getting up to your antics in the shower, Geto’s ear was pressed against the door, warm hand wrapped around his fist and pumping steadily while listening to your wines and curses as you got yourself off.

He heard you and Shoko talking about this new method to masturbate over the phone the other day, he didn’t mean to ease drop but.. yes he did.

The second he walked by your room and heard you repeat back to shoko, “A shower head? down there? really?” He froze in his tracks, listening to the short conversation after your question that followed.

Ever since that day, whenever you got in the shower he would follow right behind you. The moment he heard the shower come to life, his head was pressed against the thick wood door, listening for any telling signs that you were trying out this new trick you had learned.

And he is so glad he didn’t give up, night after night he spent standing at that door, shuffling his body weight between both of his feet as he waited so patiently to hear something, anything that sounded like you touching yourself, and he finally did.

He wanted to feel guilty he really did, but the vivid image he had painted of you, standing with the shower head you body used, against your clit, moaning and whining as you made yourself cum with it.. the guilt in his body was nowhere to be found.

You panted hard on the floor, squeezing your legs shut in comfort when your orgasm subsided, “holy shit,” you breathlessly whispered, amazed at how good that had felt.

You pulled your lip between your teeth, thinking. The water was still warm, so you couldn’t have been in there for too long.. a second round wouldn’t hurt.. right?

You spread your legs once more, wincing when you brought the shower head back to your clit, face scrunching as you tried to overcome the overstimulation you felt as trying to go again so soon.

You managed to push through it—though you realized you felt ten times more sensitive than before, it was proving to be harder to hold back your noises as you alternated between letting the water spray against your tight hole, and your sensitive little bud.

“Yesyesyes” Geto smiled triumphantly when he heard your noises start up again on the other side of the door after a brief pause. He started up his own hand again, stroking himself faster at the sound of your needier wines this time around.

He was picturing himself standing behind you, his cock fucking in and out of your tight hole while he held the shower head against your clit. He imagined you would protest at how it was too much, too good, to please give you a break— and of course he wouldn’t.

He would fuck into you harder, faster, he would manipulate the shower head in a way so the water was caressing your clit in circles, he pictured you curling in on yourself while you came all over him, he tried desperately to squeeze his hand in a pulsing motion to mimic what he thought your pussy would feel like when your high arrived.

He slowed down his strokes when an idea popped into his head. You could practically see a lightbulb form over him as he completely paused the strokes on his angry dick, quickly pushing his cock back into his pants and zipping them back up.

It was not unusual for the two of you to use the bathroom while the other was in the shower. The sliding shower door was one of those cloudy ones, so you could see nothing but the persons silhouette as they used the shower. The bathroom also had no lock, which Geto thought was absolutely perfect.

He rapped a quick knock onto the wood, “Coming in, gotta brush my teeth” he said as nonchalantly as he could, giving you a could seconds before he cracked the door open.

You were shocked out of your daze, slapping your legs together as the door opened, you prayed he would get his toothbrush and leave, like he usually did, but he had other plan.

“Oh- o-ok-“ You stuttered out when you saw his frame come through the door. You held your breath as you tried to ignore the throbbing between your legs, crying for you to continue the simulation before he interrupted you.

You watched his blurry frame grab his toothbrush, squeezing on the toothpaste and that’s when you froze. You watched as his head turned towards the shower, holding your breath before his deep voice spoke through the room.

“Why are you on the ground?” he questioned, making you squeeze your eyes shut, hoping that if you tried hard enough, you might disappear. “Didn’t hear you fall, you okay?” he asked, knowing damn well you weren’t on the floor because you fell.

He wasn’t expecting to see you like this, but he couldn’t deny that the thought of you having to sit down from how weak your legs were from just putting a shower head to your clit was making him dizzy.

“I-i’m okay,” you answered, praying that would be the end of his interrogation— it wasn’t.

“Didn’t answer my question.” He repeated, a smirk you couldn’t see, spreading itself across his handsome face, “Why are you on the ground if you didn’t fall?” He spoke.

You stayed silent, looking around the four walls of the small shower box you were in, trying and failing to come up with some excuse, instead feeling your mouth flap open and closed like a fish while little ‘uhh’ and ‘umms’ fell from your lips.

You watched his figure sit down on the closed toilet seat. The silence in the room was making your heart race, had he heard you moaning?

“Where’s the shower head?” he asked. You pulled your lip into your mouth and closed your eyes, forgetting that you can see the shower head peak out from the top of the shower door.

“What are you doing?” you asked quietly, at this point, you knew he knew— and you knew he was teasing you about it.

“Just wanna know where my shower head went, I spent a lot of money for that attachment you know~” He cooed, making you sigh.

“I..” you started, opening your eyes and peeking at his blurry frame through your peripheral vision, “I have it.” You finished.

“Where?” he quickly responded, smile still plastered on his face, his hand coming down slowly to subtly rub himself over his pants, using the obstruction of the blurry shower door to conceal his antics.

“Down here, with me.” You answered. “What’s it doing down there? hmm?” His deep voice resonated.

You started to feel yourself grow hot, and it wasn’t because of the temperature of the water. “I needed it.” you answered vaguely, feeling yourself throb between your legs at this interaction.

“You needed it?” he repeated, rubbing himself harder over his pants, letting out a short laugh when all you responded with was a short ‘mhm’

He watched your form move behind the glass, guessing your legs had spread open again, watching your arm move to place the shower head back between your legs.

He heard your breath hitch quietly when the water made contact with your little bud once more, “Needed it bad, huh?” he spoke again.

You tipped your head back against the shower wall, ignoring the blaring signals of what the hell are you doing this is your roomate, going off in your head. Instead you opted to move the shower head in circles, letting the water caress your pussy in the way you needed.

“Who taught you that huh?” he asked, knowing full well who the culprit was, and internally thanking her. “A-a friend.” you responded, your breath picking up as you spoke.

“Yeah? Did your friend also say it was okay to use my shower head to play with your pussy?” he asked. His vulgar and more direct words made you whimper, your cunt clenching around nothing as he continued.

“Y-you like it,” you responded, rolling your hips up into the stream of water.

This caught him off gaurd.

“Don’t t-think I haven’t noticed you outside the door whenever I s-shower ngh-“ you whine, wanting your voice to sound more like you were scolding him, but your words came out rushed and needy instead.

“You wanted m-e to do this,” you finished with a whine when the stream hit your clit a little too intensely.

“Fuck,” he laughed, reaching his hand into his pants once more to pull out his cock and stroke himself properly, “Why didn’t you say anything huh?” he asked.

“Didnt w-wanna ruin your fantasy, p-pervert.” you responded, the name making his cock twitch. “Oh I’m the pervert?” he responded, “Who was the one letting me listen to her shower? the one using my shower head to make herself cum?”

“L-listen to yourself, your just a nasty v-voyeur,” you wined, moans freely falling from your lips now at how worked up this conversation was getting you.

He felt his balls clench at your degrading words, cock still in his hand as he stood to his feet, sliding the slower door open in one swift movement and entering the shower, soaking his clothes as he dropped to his knees, gripping your chin in his free hand as he pressed your lips to his.

“Mmm! Mph-“ You whined into his mouth, feeling his arm rapidly move back and forth between you, his heavy breathing giving away his antics.

You kept the shower head on your clit as the two of you made out. He kissed you like he had been wanting to do this for years, bulling his tongue into your mouth and groaning into your cavern, the two of you swallowing each others noises.

“Sugu- Suguru, fuck-“ you moaned his name needing in between kisses, feeling yourself get pushed to the edge for the second time.

He sucked your lip into his mouth before pulling away and gripping your wrist that was controlling the shower head. “Let me fuck you,” he begged against your lips, “Let me fuck you please.” You were astonished at how quickly he was switching gears. He was so dominant just seconds ago and now he was on his knees in front of you, begging you to let him put his dick inside you.

“I’ll make you cum so much harder than this fucking thing please, let me prove it,” he rushed, his hand still jerking quickly over his cock as he sucked his lip into his mouth.

“Okay, okay ye-“ you answer, soul leaving your body when he wrapped his arms around you, yanking the both of you to your feet, he pulled you up by the underside of your thighs wrapping your legs around his waist as he pinned you against the shower wall.

You were getting whiplash as how quickly this was progressing, you gasped in anticipation as his hand grabbed ahold of his cock underneath you, you gasped when you felt it rub against your entrance.

“You can’t take it, Look at me, you can take it.” He spoke, pressing his his forehead to yours and making you keep eyes contact with him, distracting you from the sheer size of his cock that looked like it threatened to split you in half.

The two of you stared at each other with bated breathe, waiting for geto to slip his cock into your hole. The two of you gasped in tandem when he slid inside, the slide eased by the water.

“Oh fuck,” The dark haired man rolled his eyes back in his head, “So fucking tight oh my-“ He cut himself off when he bottomed out, gasping against your mouth as you wined at the stretch.

You’ve never taken anything inside you even remotely close to the girth and length of Geto’s massive cock. You were glad you came once before and your walls were more pliant, otherwise you would’ve been actually worried that he might’ve split you in two.

“Holy fuck you’re so big-“ you praised, looking down between the two of you and seeing your cunt fully pressed against his abdomen. “S-should’ve stopped being a fucking pervert and g-grew the balls to come in here and f-fuck me week ago,” you giggled.

Geto had no idea why when you spoke down to him it made his cock twitch, his balls would clench and threaten to spill his seed without even moving. Even before he got inside you when he heard the name leave your lips he had to squeeze the base of his cock to prevent himself from cumming prematurely.

“I know, you’re right,” he agreed, before he started a rough pace with his hips, fucking meanly into your cunt.

You bounced forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and digging your nails into his back as high pitch “ah! ah! ah’s” we’re fucked out of your lungs.

“This perv fucking you better than that shower head?” he asked, smiling into the crook of your neck as his cocky pistoned in and out of your hole, his fat tip fucking straight into your gspot.

“D-ont kno-w” your words came out choppy and high pitched thanks to his rough thrusts. “You don’t know?” He repeated, his lip jutting out in a frown as he bounced your body up and down his cock with ease. “Let’s find out then,” he added.

He gripped the sides of your body, pulling you up off his cock with ease and flipping your body around, so you were back to chest with him, just like in his fantasy.

He slipped his cock back inside you, making you whine, your legs shaking and trembling under your own weight, small hands reaching out to grip onto the shower door handle to keep yourself steady.

Geto reached over and grabbed the shower head, picking it up off the ground from the tube part and pulling it up into his hands, he quickly checked the pressure and temperature against his fingers before he wrapped one large arm against your tummy, pulling you back against his chest.

He maneuvered his other hand in front of you, teasing the spray of the water against your pelvis before he spoke, “Don’t pass out on me.”

Geto placed the stream of water against your clit before resuming his brutal pace inside your pussy once more. If it wasn’t for his strong grip against your stomach, you were sure your legs would’ve given out on you.

“Fffuuuuuck-“ You wined, eyes rolling back in your head at the intense pleasure. “Fuck- You’re so much tighter when your little clit gets some attention-“ he choked, gritting his teeth at the feeling of your pussy walls constricting around his cock.

He tipped his head back, jaw dropping as he tried not to lose his own balance, he understood now why you ended up on the floor.

“Not gonna last with your squeezing me this fucking tight.” he warned, his lips coming down to suckle against your neck as the both of you were spiraling closer and closer to your impending orgasms.

“Fuck it’s you- you shi-t,” you tried to tell him, making him grin against your neck, “You fuck me better ha-aaah!” you wined, your arms leaving the shower door to dig your nails into his arm that was wrapped around your torso.

“Yeah? Am I making you feel good?” He bated, needing to hear you praise him. “So ahhn! So good Sugu! So fucking good, love your cock-“ you got cut off by the first wave of your orgasm, catching you off gaurd suddenly.

“Yeahhh cum all over my fucking cock- good fucking girl-“ your roomate praised, his thrusts becoming sloppy as your walls fought to milk him for all he was worth,

“Gonna make me cum,” he warned, gritting his teeth and rolling his eyes back when you dug your nails into his arms harder than before.

Unbeknownst to him, he was fucking you straight into overstimulation, you had just come in inch from your life and the stream of water was still steadily massaging your clit, and his mushroom tip was absolutely abusing your gspot.

“Su-“ you tried to speak, to tell him to at least move the shower head but he was out of it himself. The man was fucking you with reckless abandon, humping his dick into your tight walls on instinct, moans freely falling from his lips, his heavy balls making loud vulgar slaps against your ass-

He pulled out just before he came, making him drop the shower head and simultaneously releasing his hold on you, making you drop to your knees.

You looked up at him just in time when he came, his large hand caressed your face while his other stroked him through his orgasm, abs and balls clenching alike while warm spurts of cum covered your pretty face.

“Thank you- Thank you-“ He choked out between the waves of his orgasm, his head was tilted back, jaw slack and eyes squeezed shut at the intensity, you and never seen a more beautiful sight.

His legs were visibly shaking, fighting to keep himself standing as his fist squeezed out the remaining drops of his cum onto your face.

When he started to come down his next dropped to look at you, gasping, trying to catch his breath as he looked at the art he created on your beautiful face.

When the fuzziness started to fade out of his head he realized how uncomfortable he was, his slacks and button up shirt was half drenched, sticking to his skin uncomfortably from the water. His big hand came up to rub the back of his neck as he squatted in front of you, before bringing both hands down to your face using his large thumbs to rub his cum into your cheeks.

“I-“ He stopped himself, clearing his throat before leaving a soft peck on your lips, “Legs get you cleaned up,” he smiled, scooping you up and letting you wrap your limbs around him like a koala as he carried your wet bodies out of the shower.

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metalsiren-a · 10 months

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🍆how do they feel about toys? do they have any? what’s their favorite? do they use them with partners?

𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 // @shellcrack + ACCEPTING .

sawyer loves toys! she loves incorperating them into all aspects of pleasure, whether it be foreplay or the actual event. it's actually somewhat of a red flag to her if her partner doesn't like using toys or refuses to use them because sawyer doesn't view them as competition, but more like a partner-in-pleasure. she uses them on her partners in tandem with her own skills frequently and loves having them used on her. sure there are times where it's nice for it to just be all analog, especially for certain more intimate moments, but toys are a staple in her arsenal.

she's got vibrators, to dildos, to lush vibes, to strap-ons, to bad dragons, to plugs; anything and everything to explore and enhance the experience for herself and her partners. in all honesty, she can't choose a favourite, but if we are to go off of what she takes on tour with her, she packs a lush vibe and a dildo.

#TOYS ARE FRIENDS NOT FOES #USFW #° 𝔣𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰 ; ✞ usfw.#° 𝔡𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔩𝔬𝔭𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱 ; ✞ headcanon.

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inmyloveworld · 7 months

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as usual (bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader)

word count: ~3.7k

synposis: the time for you to meet the Hard Deck, and the Daggers frequenting it, has finally come. but some digs on the oldest aviator of the bunch in front of his younger partner leave a tension between you that begs to be broken.

warnings: age gap (unspecified but in my mind was about 10 years), assumed alcohol consumption, allusions to anxiety, use of the pet name "bunny", jake is an instigator

a/n: this was NOT going to be this long in my head but once i got writing i could not stop.. enjoy some more self-indulgent comfort angst from me!

As usual, Bradley pulled up to your apartment complex right after a long day on base. And as usual, you were standing in the window like a pup waiting for its owner to come home. He made the comparison in earnest. It melted him to know someone was that excited to have him near, that you were that excited to have him near.

He could barely make it out of the Bronco before you were bounding out your door and down the stairs. Bradley had just rounded the passenger side when you reached him. The sinking sun somehow made your eyes sparkle brighter. Butterflies flew in his stomach, and a lovestruck grin spread across his face. Gentle hands caressed your hips as his caramel gaze took you in closely.

"Did you manage to lock the door?" Bradley teased. You softly grunted at the dig, feigning annoyance in a half frown. The front door and you were nothing if not eternal foes, and Bradley knew of this conflict too well.

"I resent that, I really do." His responding laugh was all it took to break your weak facade. A smile overtook you as you lit up once again to be in his presence. Your hands found home at the base of his neck as your lips greeted each other. Seconds moved in hours whenever you kissed Bradley Bradshaw. He made the noise of the world lift into a soft hum with every touch.

It was understandable that you whined whenever he pulled away. "We're gonna be late," Bradley bargained. Your mouth fell into a soft pout that he was happy to peck away into a smile, and into giggles once his lips found your cheeks, and nose, and temples.

"I thought you said we'd be late!" you laughed as you batted him away to slip into the passenger side. He held the door open for you, like the gentleman Carole had raised him to be. Then he bent to kiss you more softly, like the gentleman his father was.

"You are always worth it." You couldn't fight the flush that broke onto your cheeks to crowd the makeup already present. Blush served little purpose with Bradley lighting your cheeks aflame every chance he got. Nor highlighter, with the glow you seemed to emanate since the day he walked into your life.

His hand found home on your thigh, yours placed atop it to toy with his calloused fingers. The Bronco drove off to the famed bar where he and his naval companions flocked. Such companions were eager to meet the girl who settled their "Rooster" into domestic life.

"Cupid's sure been hard at work," Phoenix remarked upon catching her best friend cheesing at the texts you sent him. Whatever force in the world brought you to him, be it Cupid or God or Nick and Carole themselves, he was grateful. Never had he felt so complete.

"How was work today, bunny?" Bradley asked. A simple question most would roll their eyes at, you jumped to answer. You were eager to tell him of every detail: the pesky clientele, the interdepartmental dramas, even how poorly the coffee was brewed. Excitement ran through you and, by proxy, to Bradley. "Bunny" was a nod to the energy that filled you and energized others, much like the battery mascot.

Your anecdotes filled the minutes driving through the bustle of San Diego rush hour. Bradley glanced over at you every chance he got, adding in commentary where he saw fit but mostly admiring the expressions taking over your face.

He could listen to you ramble for hours, he was certain, as you did for him in his own moments of boundless vigor. An equal partnership seemed unattainable with the women he'd met through the years yet came easily with you.

What place did age have to stall a feeling like that?

Some last-minute Bronco kisses had you and Bradley walking into the Hard Deck five minutes behind schedule. His arm was wrapped around your waist, his hand tucked into the front pocket of your jeans to keep you snug against his side. Still, he let you lead the way, content to follow you wherever you found your feet.

You gawked at the space already half packed with people in uniform, a few civilians bridging the gaps. Various signs and regalia littered the space between windows. The perfect sunset view of the beach was on every wall. Miniature aircraft figures crowded the ceiling in permanent flight.

"Is this place for real?" you remarked, earning a kiss on your cheek from Bradley.

"That it is, bunny. As far back as my pops and Maverick," he answered, stopping as he caught his first familiar face. Bradley took the moment to lead you, bringing you to an open space at the bar. "And now in the hands of this lovely lady here. You remember-"

"Penny!" The excitement in your voice brightened the owner right up. Bradley's heart performed somersaults at your cheer. "This place is incredible!"

Penny tried to humble herself under your praise. "Hey, it's the nicest Navy daycare I could imagine." You giggled at the quip, making her break a smile. You quizzed her on her run of the bar as she pulled a draft for Bradley and mixed a margarita for you. The two of you initially met when Bradley brought you to Maverick's hangar. She was just as endeared then as she was now by your bright spirit and compassion for others.

Once you were settled with your drinks, you attempted to tip her out. Penny was quick to push the cash back at you with a wink. "On the house for you tonight. Call it my welcome gift." You must have thanked her half a dozen times as you moved across the bar. A small table against the wall was your target; somewhere to ground your drinks for when you inevitably got spotted-

"Bradshaw!" The time came sooner than you predicted. A brunette tagged with a name you'd heard too many times to count found her way to you. A man in true aviator glasses followed closely behind. Part of you tensed in anticipation. Still, your outgoing nature won over any resistance.

"Phoenix? Bradley has told me so much about you!" You reached out a hand to her. Her eyes slowly followed the gesture as if examining it.

Phoenix took her time to speak up. "So you're the one who's got Bradshaw off in la-la land?"

You blinked, trying to read into her tone. "I-I think so?"

"Phoenix, play nice," Bradley warned. She scoffed at him, finally grabbing your hand to shake.

"I haven't seen the old bird this happy in ages," Phoenix said as she met your eyes. A real smile tugged at her mouth. You were quick to mirror it as you relaxed. "Keep him that way; he flies better."

Bob followed up with his own introduction. It was hard for Bradley to contain his joy at the moment, even with the slight brows Phoenix threw his way. He hadn't told her the details of the age difference in passing; he hadn't thought it important. Bob was none the wiser, simply offering a game of darts to share amongst the four of them.

"Oh, I LOVE darts!" you exclaimed. "But be warned, it's rare that I actually hit the board."

Phoenix chuckled. "Your boy's not too good himself. We ought to split you apart so Bob and I are more evenly matched." Bradley rolled his eyes, though the interaction had his heart soaring. You were happy as can be getting to know his closest friends. They seemed happy as can be getting to know you.

Questions were passed between throws, Bob asking about your work and Phoenix asking about your relationship. It was the kindest form of interrogation you could've envisioned. Meanwhile, the empty pool table behind you was beckoning another group of aviators in your direction.

The tallest of the trio, a man with a square jaw and dark eyes, was quick to single you out. "Now, who's this pretty young thing you guys rounded up to play?"

You turned to make his acquaintance briefly, your usual cheery demeanor receding some. No person with words like that would get the better of you. Instead, you drew in a breath as you threw the last dart of your turn, hitting a triple ring in the process.

"Bradley!" you squealed. He drew you in happily as you jumped into his embrace. "Did you see?! Did you see?!"

An answer was pressed to your lips, leaving you breathless in the aftermath. Bradley hummed at your slightly dazed expression. "That's my girl."

He felt the stares of Harvard, Fanboy, and Coyote burning holes into the floral print shirt he adorned. No mind was paid to any of them, though; not until you solicited it yourself. "You must be more of Bradley's.. coworkers?"

The man of middle height held his hand out for you with a charming grin. "Lieutenant Javy Machado, or 'Coyote' if you'd rather." You were introduced to the other two, with Harvard taking some quizzical glances your way.

"I can't help but wonder, how'd you get shacked up with this fossil?" The audience around you laughed, Bradley included. He had mentioned he was a bit older than his team, giving rationale to the jest and the 'old bird' comment Phoenix made earlier. Still, something in these remarks began to itch you. You were quick to table the feeling, certain it was only your misunderstanding among old friends.

You went on to indulge them in the story of your mildly embarrassing meet-cute. A few other aviators popped in to make their introductions, Payback and Omaha namedly. It seemed that each of them, in due time, had to take their shot at ragging on Bradley's age. He brushed each one-liner off in spades, settling any greater debate with an amused chuckle rather than a defense.

The itch in you was replaced by a gnawing in your gut. You worked to suppress it as best as you could, wanting to make a perfect evening for your partner: the one who kissed you when you shot well in darts and pulled you to the piano to serenade you front and center.

But the words echoing in your ears began to shrink you in your bearings. Suddenly, you had little to say in response to any harmless question. You certainly had less to say as Harvard and Hangman were questioning why you were with Bradley "of all people". Bradley himself had gone to the bathroom, trusting you would be safe and at ease in the company of his friends. It was only upon his return that he was made to see how wrong he'd been.

Bob, the perfect wallflower, had noted the shift in your behavior. He stood by and watched as the dazzling person he was first introduced to started to lose their spark. The WSO watched as you tried to fake smiles and laugh along to the jokes cracked. None of it reached your gaze that began to dart around, as if looking for refuge. Bradley was clueless, too caught up in the moment of his worlds merging to notice one was falling back.

He returned from the bathroom and attempted to dart to your side, stopped only by Bob's light grip on his arm. "Rooster, something's up with your girl." Bradley froze. He scanned the bar, locking onto where you sat with a pair of his friends. Confusion filled him. The night had gone so well. You were getting along with everyone, even Hangman. What could possibly be wrong?

"Just trust me," Bob pleaded, practically seeing the calculations Bradley was attempting in his head. It was seeing your hands nervously fiddling together that confirmed to him Bob was right. He clapped his friend's shoulder, uttering a gracious thanks before making his way over to you.

"Mind if I cut in?" It was nothing more than a courtesy. Bradley would not let you stew in your own head a second longer. "I think we ought to be heading out soon, bunny."

Bradley outstretched his hand to you, which you gladly placed yours into. He pulled you up from the booth with ease and waved his goodbyes to the pair left at the table.

Hangman would not settle for courtesies. "Aww, come on, old man; can't you let her stay out past curfew?"

You barely had a breath to react before Bradley did with yet another chuckle. If nothing churned your stomach that night, the sound of his amusement at this running gag did. You managed your goodbyes to everyone in passing well enough as you exited the bar. The Bronco was a relieving and suffocating sight at the same time.

Silence: that was all Bradley had been given as he led you to his car. A frown fixed on his face. You were keeping a firm distance between the two of you where normally there would be none. Your fingers danced with each other in a nervous rhythm where normally they were laced with his own. Something was seriously wrong, but he hadn't the faintest idea as to what.

Bradley held the passenger door open for you, as usual, and had to hold back a gracious sigh as you let him. You would not so much as look at him since leaving his friends, but he held onto the simple gesture as a sign of hope.

He dared to lean in to catch your lips against his, only to be met by the soft skin of your cheek. Bradley stuttered backward. You had turned away from his kiss.

"Take me home, Rooster." An icy cold poured through him. You had met him in uniform, full with his "Rooster" embellishment, but had never once used the name. And he was starting to wish you never had, for the distant feeling it brought chilled him to the bone.

Bradley hopped into his seat and got the Bronco in motion toward your apartment. Maybe you needed the fresh air and the sights of the city to cool off, he thought. However, with each mile, the tension was growing thicker. He felt it in the silence walling you from him. He felt it as your quad contracted under his subconscious grip, so much that he was growing nauseous himself.

Bradley was a worrywort by default. It's why he hesitated in the air. It's why he hesitated with almost everything in his life. You had been the one piece of his existence that brought him such thoughtless bliss. Had he been too thoughtless to not notice where things were souring?

As quickly as you had raced down, you were flying up the stairs to your apartment. The thud of the passenger door slamming startled him. Bradley barely parked by the time you were halfway up the flight. He locked the doors and jogged up in the path you'd made.

His stature made it fairly easy to catch up to you. That, and the fumbling of your fingers with your key in the villainized deadbolt. You were cursing silently to yourself as you tried and failed to get the lock to turn just right. Tears began to blur your vision, making the simple task even more frustrating.

Bradley's voice was gentle, apologetic already. "Here, let me-"

"Just go home, Rooster; I don't need a fucking babysitter!"

Your response comes out sharp and cold. Your use of his callsign half an hour ago might have chilled him, but this sudden outburst froze him from the inside out. It wasn't long until you froze up yourself and realized the words you let fly.

"Whoa.. where did that come from?"

Bradley didn't receive an answer; not verbally, at least. The only response he received from you was the clutter of your keys against the ground as you tucked your chin into your chest. Soft whimpers began to shake your frame. Within seconds, your resolve gave way to desperate cries pouring from your throat. Bradley's heart cracked.

He moved into action, tucking you into his broad chest and letting you lean your weight into him. Light shushes and repetitions of "It's alright" rushed to console you. Bradley held you upright with one arm as he bent over to swipe your keys into his grasp.

"Come on; let's get inside, yeah?" he cooed as he stood back up. You said nothing and continued to cry into his white tank. Mascara stains were sure to form, but he couldn't care less.

Bradley got your door unlocked in a single try. He propped you safely against the wall as he locked the entry behind himself. You felt like you were floating with his help to get to the couch. There was no resistance or fight in you; only fear.

His hands were on your knees, rubbing soothing circles against the bare skin your jeans exposed. Bradley knelt down in front of you. He waited for you, any tell that you were ready to talk, as long as you needed.

You gathered a hiccuped breath as your sobs faded to sniffles. Your trembling hands reached for him, feeling the warmth of his grasp almost instantly. Bradley gingerly kissed your knuckles on each hand. "Talk to me, bunny." Head lifting, you finally met his worried stare. "What's going on?"

It was a simple question that had a simple answer. Yet, as you tried to form the words, you felt a rush of embarrassment. How ridiculous was it to get so worked up over some lighthearted fun? There was no reason for you to have this sick feeling in your stomach over it.

"Hey," Bradley called, moving a hand up to hold your cheek. His thumb swept at the tears still pouring from your lash line. You hadn't noticed your line of sight drifting away from him with your train of thought. As you found his face again, you saw greater desperation. He ached to know, to help. "Talk to me. Please."

And you did. Grabbing onto his hand with both of yours, you released a heavy sigh. "Tonight was great. Everyone was so nice and welcoming. They all seem like really good people, a-and I'm glad you have them in your life to support you."

Bradley managed a sad smile. Even through your own pains, you were searching for the best to make of the situation for him. He squeezed your hands holding his to comfort you in letting the other shoe drop.

"But.. I-I know you're older than them. I'm sure that, that they make those jokes around you a lot, and did way before you met me. It just.." You stopped yourself, shaking your head as if to shake the thought away. "It's probably so stupid-"

"It's not stupid if it's got you this upset."

Oh, Bradley. The only man you'd ever encountered who genuinely yearned to empathize with you at every struggle or hardship. The person who encouraged you to feel things through in a healthy manner instead of immediately pointing blame at yourself for feeling it at all. No person at any age topped the level of emotional care and safety he provided you.

Your words started to flood out, mixing together in disarray. Yet, Bradley listened intently to every fragmented sentence you gave. "I care about you. So much, B; so much it's scary sometimes. And I don't ever think of the years between us because it's all meaningless, you know? The way I feel for you, and how I think you feel for me. We each have our shit sorted, there's no weird power dynamic bullshit going on."

He restrained a laugh at your frank vocabulary. It was one of the things he admired most about you. When your feelings spilled out, there was never a filter. You expressed yourself entirely authentically. That's why your earlier silence frightened him into his own.

That was not to say your troubles were easy for him to hear, because they weren't. Who wanted to hear that the person they loved ever doubted as such?

"All those jokes… I don't want your friends to not take me seriously. That I'm with you for any reason other than you make my life so much better just by being in it, and I hope to god I can do the same for you. I don't need you to take care of me, be my 'sugar daddy' or anything like that. And-" You pursed your lips as another sob caught in your throat.

Bradley leaned in to kiss your forehead, so tenderly it sent chills down your spine. Your lips parted to release that choked cry. "I-I was scared when you just.. just laughed with them, that, that you didn't take me seriously e-either."

The words were a knife in his chest. "Oh, baby, no," he nearly gasped. "No, no; I never have thought like that, bunny."

You began to cry once more; out of the feelings you'd held that evening, out of the faint insecurity you'd held the months you'd spent together, and out of relief to hear him reassure you. The mix of emotions was blowing you over.

"Can I come up there, baby? Can I hold you?" Your answer was in the frantic way you pulled at his hands. Bradley fell into your ragged loveseat in an instant, tugging you into his lap as you wept. He rubbed up and down your back and pressed kisses into your hair to soothe you.

His voice was warped with his own emotion when he spoke next. "I'm so sorry I ever made you doubt how I feel about you. You are worth so much more than your age." He cupped your cheek again to meet your watery gaze with his own.

"You're incredible. The way you navigate life so carefree and full of light, and how you pass that feeling onto everyone you meet. How you care about everyone you meet and effortlessly brighten their day. How you care about me so much that you're this worried that I don't know it."

Your tears rolled freely onto the skin of his fingers, your body jolting with hiccups. And Bradley thought you were every bit as beautiful as you'd ever been.

"But I do. And I will treasure that, I will treasure you, every day of my life." Your responding smile was the most welcome sight. It cleared up the dark clouds that were looming overhead to shine brightly on whatever was to come. As usual.

a/n: this was very VERY loosely proofread but i am open to feedback and suggestions! thank you all for reading <3

tags: @roosterforme, @avengersfan25

#bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #rooster imagine #rooster x reader #rooster fanfic #rooster top gun #bradley bradshaw fic #top gun fanfiction #top gun x reader #top gun rooster

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ay0nha · 7 months

Note

Sharing a smoke with Sanji.

Maybe just a quiet night in deck or stepping outside during a celebration.

It could be fluff or more. Like shot gunning the smoke or close to getting caught when things get more heated.

I don't know, Sanji smoking scenes/gifs have my mind spinning!!

PAIRING: OPLA!Sanji x f!reader

WORD COUNT: 600~

WARNINGS: alluding to smut (18+), smoking, flirting, post-coital cigarette sharing, vague setting/plot because I was too hyped on them locking lips lmao, etc.

A/N: I ADORE smoking (fiction smoking, lemme be clear, I don't condone smoking). It's just So Hot. Also, I'm convinced that Sanji would roll his own cigarettes. This was a little different from the request, but I hope you enjoy what I've come up with! Enjoy.

ALSO PSA I plan to start a Sanji series that will have a much higher word count, so as I make my way through requests they'll be on the shorter side so I don't overwhelm myself!

COMMENTS ENCOURAGED.

“So this is what you do.”

“Depends on who’s asking.” The freshly rolled cigarette sat on his lips. “Are you a friend or foe?”

“Depends.” You teased his words. His lips curled into a smile, moving as they had when you moaned his name. “Are you going to share?”

You curled your toes, trying to hold back. Sanji was only a few steps away, arm dangling out your window with a smirk. He wanted you to cave, wanted you to beg him to feel him deep again. You were steadfast, staying within the warmth of the sheets, giving him nothing but an open invitation.

“And what do I get?” He hummed.

Sanji played along well to a game he didn’t know the rules to. He formed a habit of lingering. With each visit, he found it harder to leave and lie. It was a reckless decision the first time inviting him to stay. Yet, the things you faced required something beyond your control

“Anything.”

He repeated your promise, smirking. It was becoming a look permanently etched on his face. If you hadn’t known any better, he looked smitten. The cigarette hadn’t even been lit yet, but your lungs were already tight as Sanji crept toward you.

“I’m sure you can be creative.” You provoked him further. The bed dipped beside you, but you were far too focused on how Sanji traced the cigarette over his lips in ritual before lighting it. “All you have to do is share.”

“I’m finding it hard to say no to you.” Sanji had a knack for choosing moments after intimacy to share his thoughts. They were always veiled by flirting, but it became simple to feel what he wanted.

Now that he was closer, you could see the pink tinge on his cheeks. He was gentle-looking, with a few freckles littering his face, which could make just about anyone swoon. You were past the point of return, warmth in your stomach turning into dampness even lower.

“You think so?” You pulled him closer, toying with the lengthening hair at the nape of his neck. You loved how the smoke curled around you, encasing you both.

“Mhmm.” He took a drag just to push it through his nose. “Looking at me like that…” Sanji's eyes took their time taking you, free thumb tracing your bottom lip. “...Any man’s weakness.”

“Don’t be a tease,” You whispered. “There won’t be any left.”

“There’s plenty.” Sanji tipped your chin up gently as you followed his guidance eagerly. “But first, I want you to hold it for me..." If he could have anything, this would be it. Kissing you, breathing you in, and swallowing you whole. “...think you can do that?”

You nodded against his hand, barely in contact, as his free hand drew in a deep drag.

Sanji smiled down, leaning in, gently guiding your mouth open with his as he exhaled smoke past your waiting lips. You consumed Sanji’s senses for a moment. All he could feel was one of your hands coming to lay on his chest, your scent amongst the smoke, and the faint taste of something sweet on your lips. You breathed in, doing your best to take everything he offered into your lungs, as rich and intoxicating as the warmth it was attached to.

Sanji’s lips brushed yours for a moment longer. “Just like that…”

“Hold on, I don't think I have it yet.” Your voice matched his softness, your hand holding his jaw steady, keeping him from getting too far, “Show me again.”

#q #sanji fanfic #sanji x reader #sanji smut #sanji one piece #sanji angst #one piece sanji #black leg sanji #request #opla sanji #opla!sanji x reader #opla!sanji x f!reader #sanji x f!reader #sanji

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gatorbites-imagines · 7 months

Text

Kinktober day 4

Hal Jordan + size difference

Red lantern reader Raaaaaarrghhh 🦅 🦅 🦅 Reader is a Czarnian, cuz Lobo is hot, so the reader is hot 🗣️

Not as long as my usual writing, but i got twice as much homework as normal lately so im amazed i even got writing done today.

Kinktober 2023 masterlist

There were few beings across the galaxy that left the green lanterns fumbling, and you were one of them. As Czarnians could only be killed by others of their species, and the fact that you and Lobo were something akin to friends, they could do nothing but contain you when they could capture you. Not that they were able to do that most days, as your hulking height and muscular build wasn’t just for show. Your skill with your ring only served to make you an even bigger foe.

It was your extreme skill and somehow cold and calculated mind even as a red lantern, that made you a nightmare to deal with. Many lanterns would flee battles barely conscious and would need months of physical and even mental therapy, some would not even return. You were one of the only two violent Czarnians, besides Lobo that is, and your blood thirst and seemingly iron tight control of your rage had many living beings shaking at the mere thought of you.

So how did Hal find himself in his current position, his arms hanging limply by his side as your large powerful hands grasped the underside of his knees, his back against your chest. Hal was sure hed heard of this position at some point, probably from Guy in all his showboating, a full nelson, he called it. And now Hal was in that very position, choked gasps and gargled moans leaving him, his head falling back against your wide muscular chest as your strength alone lifted him up and down on the monster you called a cock.

Maybe it had started as a fight, or a spar, or even just a chase across the stars, but one thing led to another and now Hal was being taken in a way he had never imagined before. If his eyes weren't welling with tears of pleasure and disbelief, he was sure he would be seeing a bulge through his stomach whenever you thrust inside. From what he could feel you weren’t even fully inside, and the taunting chuckle from behind him confirmed it as you grunted that he shouldn’t be acting so slutty already as you only had about half of your length inside him.

The bottom of Hals suit was gone, a gift of the lantern ring, your own only gone enough to drag your length and sack out so you could fuck into the human lantern. A loud wail that might have been a moan left Hal as you focused your attention on the bundle of nerves inside him, grinding into his prostate hard enough that Hal was seeing white, his cock twitching and spurting come out into the empty space in front of the two of you. The deep chuckle that left you made your chest rumble against Hals back, sending another shiver down his spine as his own length gave a feeble twitch, already trying to get hard again.

He felt like a toy as you dragged him up and down your length, his suit receding off his neck and shoulders as your sharpened canines dug into his skin hard enough to draw blood, your large tongue running up the length of Hals neck to wipe the metallic red liquid away as fast as it came. Hal let out a weak grunt as his entire body tensed, another orgasm washing through him, his length only releasing a few spurts. But it didn’t seem to slow you down whatsoever as you kept your pace, your taunting chuckle and words still going as the green lantern shook and moaned.

Hal had no idea how long it went on, but at some point, he had started to lose his vision as everything went blurry, a pleasant burn running through his body as he came for what must have been the sixth or seventh time, his sack completely empty causing him to have an empty orgasm. His body would tense, he would tighten up around you, but nothing would leave his dick, only more drool would run down his chin as he gagged and moaned for you.

As your large strong fingers pressed between his lips Hal found himself sucking on them sloppily, like his body couldn’t fully keep up with what his mind wanted him to do. He didn’t understand the language you cursed in as you came, and he didn’t have the brainpower to use his ring to translate it. His stomach felt tight as you filled him, white running out around your length as it overflowed, Hal whimpering at the feeling as he tried to commit it to memory.

Hal must have passed out as you reached for his length, pulling on it till his entire body tensed and shook through another finish, his head reeling and his eyes rolling back. He even thought it might have been a dream, if it wasn’t for his lower body killing him and what looked like the space version of a phone number left in his ring. You had even been polite enough to leave him in the space equivalent of a hotel room, and a high priced one too. Maybe the true way to contain your rage was a good fuck, Hal would have to fight you on his own a couple more times to make sure.

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yandere-sins · 1 year

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alright, hit us with sum yandere!ghost please! can't wait to see what you'll do with him, i always pictured him as a scary possessive when it comes to the person he loves considering his shit past so i look forward to see what you'll do

I think you are on the right path, my friend! Would have put him into the possessive category as well :D I made some random HCs, thank you for requesting, enjoy!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

♡ Ghost needs physical touch. It's not just a huge want or desire, it's how he assures himself that everything is okay and nothing is wrong. If he can't at least have the simplest form of touch by pushing his chest in your back as if he was docking onto you, he will get agitated and irritable, putting missions at risk as he loses the composure he's known for. He needs to have you close to keep his thoughts focused and his mind at ease. For Ghost, there's comfort in protecting you. Now that he finally has someone to protect, he goes to all the lengths to do so. If he has to leave you, he wants to have you near for as long as possible before he locks you away. It leads to a few interesting times where you are asked to stop being selfish and just appease him for the sake of putting him in a better mood.

♡ The reason he needs to feel you so much is to reassure himself you're alive and well. He puts himself between you and the door at night to shield you in case there's an intruder, and he keeps you no farther than an arm's length from him for the very same reason. If you hate it, that's a problem, but maybe you can learn to live with it when you realize how tame he becomes if you allow him the pleasure. Let him show you how much he adores you, gently, calmly for once, since the moment you stop, he'll go back to being the hard, unyielding bastard you know.

♡ Because he loves you in his lap or lying on top of him until you fall asleep. He loves pressing his fingers into your body as if you were a stress-relieve toy, though when you squirm, he'll use his nails to scrape at you as a warning, nipping away until you force yourself to calm down. Be good and face him if you want Ghost to spoil you with his attention. He's very willing to listen and give you what you ask for while you straddle his thighs, let him nuzzle his face against yours through the mask, and put on your sweetest voice to talk to him. He'll be pudding in your hands if you cup his face, even brush your fingertips under his mask, skimming them over his skin until you hear him practically purr, his chest rumbling against yours in delight. It's the only way you can convince him to comply with your every wish (unless they are unreasonable, like leaving you alone). You have to take your chances when you can and need him to hear you out and listen to what you need to tell him. After all, his time and attention are limited by his own need for you.

♡ He lets very few people near you, and only if he must, but sometimes, on big missions, it's necessary. You have to enjoy the small conversations you're allowed to have, even though he reminds you constantly that he's right there with you. His fingers ghosting over your wrists or the back of your neck, ready to grab you at all times, him taking off his gloves to comb through your hair or tugging your shirt back whenever you get a bit too excited in conversation and inch away from him. You'll probably never understand why no one tries to help you even though this isn't normal, but unfortunately, the people you are allowed to talk to have bonds with Ghost that are more important to them than whatever he's doing with you.

♡ However, if not for an emergency, if anyone reaches out towards you with questionable intentions, Ghost will snatch their hand, squeezing so hard they can feel their bones crumble in his grip while Simon reminds them to never fucking touch you. It doesn't matter who it is, friend or foe, he will go ballistic if they are after you. You are the one thing he sees red for, and no one wants to be on his bad side, not even you. Any outside interactions are ruined by such an outburst, but you wouldn't dare to argue with Simon about his behavior, knowing exactly how damaging his hands can be. You've been through it all in your rebellious stage and had the fractures to prove it. If he learns that you'd defend anyone else but yourself or Ghost, it won't end well for you and the person you're trying to help. It's better to appease him and stay on his good side, even for you.

♡ He shares all his meals with you. You don't get your own plate. You get his plate. His fork, his spoon, but not his knife. Not because you would hurt yourself with it, no. He's just pretty sure that if you were to stab him, he'd be too excited to get his wounds treated and doesn't want an infection. So, instead, he cuts everything into mouth-sized portions for you. Kind, isn't he? The only good thing is that aside from force-feeding you if you refuse to eat at all, you can eat anything on his plate at the pace you want. He won't force you to have things you dislike (though usually, his meals are somewhat bland). Simon will, however, bump his shoulder into yours if you don't share with him, growing more and more demanding the longer you ignore him. He eats your leftovers, but he'd much rather have you feed him, moving his mask out of the way so you can put it in his mouth while he keeps your wrist steady because he knows you like to tease him (read as "stab him with the fork").

♡ Usually, Simon doesn't punish you. He puts you in your place and reminds you that running, hiding, or fooling him won't work. If you assure him you understand, he won't pursue any harmful punishments. He might force you to kiss him or get on his lap and be quiet now, but aside from his possessive grip on you, bad behavior won't have many repercussions. However, if you really need to be punished, hopefully, you are prepared to barely survive. He knows what is punishment and what is torture, but if you anger him too much, he won't see the fine line anymore, and he has the tools to break you if he must. Neither you nor he will be happy because of it, but it does make you think twice next time if you want to push him too far. At least he knows how to patch you up afterward, but it will still hurt so much, making you wish you were dead.

♡ You're no longer [your name]. You are an endearing, sickeningly sweet, and occasionally demeaning array of nicknames. You'll find Simon to be quite creative despite him also using the more socially accepted nicknames for you like Darling, Babe, Love, Hon, and Dear. Depending on his mood, he might also slide into teasingly inappropriate ones like Slut, Whore, Fun time person, and "Someone forgot their place again, hm?" If you displease him, he becomes less pleasant, every one of his names having the sharpness of a warning edged into them, a threatening rumble in his chest as he calls you out for misbehaving. Simon will, however, stare at you for a long time if you call him anything else but his name or Ghost. He just... stares, never responds. It tickles something in him, but he can't quite place it. Refrain from feeding into any complex he might have, though. Call him God (accidentally, jokingly, or fucked well) once, and you'll never hear the end of it for the rest of your life. He's your God, alright. Ghost will soak in that knowledge forever.

♡ His array of British and military nicknames has another surprise, mainly when he calls you some random weapon's name. When you ask him why he'd call you that, Simon explains how he shot someone straight in the head with the named gun. It reminded him of you. (Apparently, you have the same effect on him. You're killing him. Blow his mind. Looking at you is sending him to heaven. You get the drill, puns intended.) He'll never tire of calling you a bomb, and he even makes flirtatious jokes at times which are just too macabre to not chuckle awkwardly about them, especially when he tells them to you matter-of-factly. But hey, hearing you laugh positively makes his day and puts him in a great mood. He calls you out for collecting brownie points with him on purpose before he picks you up to get a reward for making you laugh, locking doors behind him so he can thoroughly enjoy you and create more lovely sounds from both your mouths.

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rivalriotrenegade · 10 months

Text

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

About this fic: This is technically supposed to be a Monster Simon x reader but can also be read as just human Simon. The monster type isn't specified so you can read it with whatever monster you have in mind! This is also inspired by @ghouljams Fae!Ghost AU. So if you like this I HIGHLY recommend checking out some of their stuff. Its amazing!

Word count: 719

Warnings: GN reader, small references to kinks and slight NSFW so if you ain't 18 this ain't for you :) Sorry not sorry. I also can't figure out the :readmore: so that's my bad guys.

You sit on Simon’s lap quietly reading as his face rests between your shoulder and neck, completely unaware of the inner turmoil that he’s currently going through. The longer you sit there, the more the edges of his mind begin to fray as he takes in your scent.

It calls to him. Reawakens parts of himself he thought he had long since buried. A forgotten instinct that he had tucked away deep within the darkest corners of his mind. Slowly, he feels it coming back to life, the darker, more possessive parts of himself.

The parts that make him want to snarl and snap at anyone who gets too close, at anyone who would dare take you away. Friend or foe, it doesn’t matter. He wants to stay like this forever, everyone else be damned.

He toys with the thought of sinking his fangs into you, of permanently marking you as his. His mouth waters at the thought. Simon Riley was never one to make a show of things, but the idea of everyone knowing who you belong to fills his head with plenty of dark fantasies.

His instincts scream at him to do it. “Now! Before someone else comes and takes them away!” They cry. If he was thinking logically he’d know that you would never leave him for anyone else, but he’s not thinking logically. All he knows is that you’re his and he needs everyone else to know it too. “Mine. Mine. MINE!”

Unconsciously he digs his fingers into you, pulling your body impossibly closer to him, determined to keep you there. Your flesh fills his hands perfectly, so soft and supple and all his.

The things he’d do for you, the things he’d do to keep you safe are outweighed only by the things he wants to do to you. All the nasty, horrible things. Things that’d make you scream and cry and beg for mercy… or maybe you’d beg for more? He doesn’t know which sounds better.

He wants you under him, filled to the brim with everything he has to offer! He wants to bring you to the brink of sanity and push you over it again and again. It doesn’t really matter how, though he might have some preferences.

Tied up and blindfolded or lost and hunted? Either would do. Humans are always so scared of the unknown, but he’d make sure you had nothing to fear. Nothing but him, that is. Pain and pleasure can be interchangeable or are they one in the same?

He doesn’t know anymore. Blame the war or the torture he’s endured or even his fucked up childhood. All he knows is that whatever it is it feels good. He’s never cared for anyone else’s pleasure but his own, but he wants, no he needs for you to feel good too.

But you're so different from him. Would you be able to handle all the vile things he’d do to you? Could you handle being held down and marked up? Could you handle being manhandled, bent to his every whim and desire as he slammed into you? Could you even take his—

“Are you okay? You’re breathing kind of heavy.” You ask him sweetly and just like that he snaps out of it. Carefully he shakes his head dismissing the intrusive thoughts. “I’m fine love, just go back to reading, yeah?” You look at him, tilting your head inquisitively. “Are you sure?” You ask. His heart hammers inside his chest, like a caged animal trying to break free. “Yeah lovie, I’m sure.”

Your eyes soften and you smile at him in a way that gets his blood racing. “I love you.” You say, so gently that it’s hard to even fathom that you’re talking to him. A man so messed up and broken. He swallows thickly. He can hardly believe that someone like you, so kind and caring, gentle to a fault, would choose to love a monster like him. If you knew what really went on inside his head, would you still love him?

He has to remind himself that you don’t know what goes on inside his head. You're so far away from the monster that he knows himself to be. So for now he’ll keep on indulging in you. “I love you too.”

That's all guys! I hope you enjoyed it and I also really hope it wasn't too cringe. If you have thoughts on it please let me know. Constructive criticism is ALWAYS appreciated. Have a lovely day!

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unluckiestmember · 1 year

Text

Chainsaw Man x Short/Shy! Reader

Characters: Aki Hayakawa, Angel Devil, Kishibe, Denji and Yoshida Hirofumi

Tags: Fluff, teasing, established relationships, fluff, tolerance training, did I mention fluff?

Warnings: None. SFW.

A/N: It should have not taken me this long to make this. *slaps self on the wrist*. One of my favorites!

Aki Hayakawa

“Huh? I was laughing? Sorry. I just realized something about how short you are?… I’m not making fun of you. It’s just- Nevermind.”

Aki finds you to be kind of cute, but he would never say that in public, he has a reputation to keep of course. One thing he really loves about you is how short you are compared to him, finding it cute when you look up at him to ask questions or when you want a kiss.

He also loves how shy you can be, though sometimes he would prefer it if you weren’t so careful with what you want to say or do. At home, your nature was perfectly fine, but at work? He could tell it was something that could get you killed or force you to partake in missions you shouldn’t be participating in.

Aki can put up a front, but everyone knows that he cares deeply about you even if he doesn’t display PDA as much compared to his colleagues. Even Himeno makes fun of the fact that he’s so in love with you! All in all, he thinks you are the cutest and sweetest thing he’s ever met. But he won’t say that out loud. Nope. Never… But behind closed doors-

Angel Devil

“Wanna get ice cream after this mission?… Huh? Speak up. I can’t hear you… Still can’t hear you.”

Angel Devil loves your shy nature, but he’s also someone who wants you to grow out of it. He feels that due to you being so bashful you could be taken advantage of by the Public Safety, including Makima. And if it isn’t by your coworkers, it will definitely be by the world around you. So he loves to ask you questions and hear you give him an answer loud and proud, even if that is a rarity.

When he isn’t trying to gracefully mold you out of love, Angel finds your height to be a bit comforting due to being one of the shortest males in his group of colleagues. He doesn’t make fun of your height or is the kind of person to say you’re cute when you get mad because of your figure. Instead, he treats you with a higher respect compared to everyone in Public Safety, viewing you not just as his lover and co-worker, but also as his friend.

Outside of your personality possibly being a target for foes, Angel Devil loves everything about you.

Kishibe

“… Yeah. I’m gonna keep you.”

Kishibe is a bit of a weird man, usually keeping his emotions on lockdown and focusing mainly on his missions at hand in Public Safety. He seems like the kind of man who doesn’t have time for romance and lives deeply in the past, meaning his heart might still be hung on Quanxi.

But actually? He’s a bit of a sweetheart.

Though he’s a man of action, not a man of words. He doesn’t put his relationship with you in front of the world unless he feels threatened by someone in his Division. But even then, he knows how you can be around people and even himself, so he treads lightly in hopes of not scaring you off. It doesn’t make it any better that you are significantly shorter than him. So he just feels himself taken aback by your height difference and sometimes sees you not as a toy, but a plush that should be protected and kept at all costs.

Even if his communication skills could use a bit of tweaking along with his advances, he adores you and wants to protect you no matter what.

Denji

“Hey, uh, wanna cuddle again?… No, work was fine, I just uh, wanna hold you again. I like how I can easily wrap my arms around you and how you fit against me and… Stuff.”

Short, tall, loud or quiet, Denji does not give a damn as long as he’s getting some love! And boy do you give him love!

He’s like a big puppy when it comes to you, loving you in any way shape or form. He adores how bashful you are, even if sometimes it makes him think he’s said or done something wrong. It doesn’t make it better that when you are affectionate with him, he just. Melts. He stares at you like you are the creator of the world around him, like a divine entity that must be loved and respected for eternity.

When it comes to being short, Denji finds this to be his favorite trait about you since he can easily do things he’s seen in movies, tv and manga he wants to try out on you. He’ll twirl you around when he’s happy. He’ll help you reach for objects to grab without ridiculing you. He’ll bend down eagerly to kiss you on your lips. And he will definitely hold you so close and tight to his body when you sleep together.

You are so precious to him. Words just can’t describe how much he loves you…

Yoshida Hirofumi

“Can I get a kiss?… You missed… Oh, you missed again. Missed. Hey, what’s going on with your aim?”

Yoshida can be a bit of a goofball dating you. He thinks you are cute as a shy soft bean in his eyes, but he will try to push you out of your comfort zone gently with his actions.

He can be playful, pushing you to initiate some moments between you two and even forcing you to speak up. But trust me when I say he’s not just getting off to you having to take the first step. If he wants to hold and kiss you and partake in cute activities with you, he will.

Though he can be a comedian of sorts, he makes sure that you are safe away from his job. He knows because of your personality that if you were to get in the middle of his work you could get hurt. And if you ever got hurt? He wouldn’t know what to do with himself… As his lover, you mean so much to him even if he gives off casual dating energy. Just ask him. And he’ll tell you how special you are.

He loves you. Don’t forget that.

Chainsaw Man requests are currently open! :D

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, be safe and have a good day! <3

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marigoldenblooms · 21 days

Text

Unica Semper Avis - Chapter 2

Pairing: Cleric!Wanda x Fem!AvianShifter!Reader x MonsterHunter!Natasha

Prompt: Ever since you’ve come of age, you’ve never been able to stop yourself from transforming into a monster. Whenever the sky would dim with a New Moon, you’d ravage the world with a fury unknown by many. Such is the bane existence of your species. This time, however - something was different. Now, you need help. On the feeble doorstep of the so-called ‘Spirit Healer,’ you found yourself both at the mercy of a cleric, and of a monster hunter’s blade. Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

MINORS DNI - 18+

TW/General Tags: No mention of Y/N, slow burn, stranger to lovers (Wanda), enemies to lovers (Natasha), eventual smut (lord have mercy), Swearing, Fantasy violence, occasional descriptions of light body horror during transformation, slight self harm, slight restraint, angst, fluff, will add tags as they appear!

Chapter Warnings: Non-consensual touching (arms/shoulders), slight transformation description, threatening, mentions of pain (burning), intimidation tactics, arguments, manipulation, angst, canon-level violence, mentions of scarring/burnt skin, restraint, we're finally leaving Belmoor y'all

A/N: Holy crap y'all, thanks for the incredible responses on everything once again! We finally get some trio dialogue going in this chapter ^^ Natasha’s interrogation is based within Latin, while R’s occasional text is built primarily within greek. Russian is also here, as expected. I had nothing for Smut Saturday, so I hope lore will suffice ^^' We will see if the writing block ceases, lol

Equally, we’ve got a Unica tag list coming along! Let me know if you’d like to be added to it!

Word count: 3.9k - Read Length: 14 minutes, 29 seconds. ~~~

You’d never dreamt awake before.

You could feel your mind faintly, cognition ghostly as you’d blink within your own head. Your transformation’s destruction was never something you were aware of until you rose out of it, covered in viscera from your form’s hunt. Was it really your body, after that? As you’d drift hazily in a river of your own thoughts, you couldn’t separate feathers from skin. You and your monster were one in the same.

You’d try to shut your eyes again, fall back into the painless slumber your molt offered. A part of you knew the horror you’d awake to- perhaps your succession had slaughtered them all, friend and foe alike. You would grieve her as you had the others, the fiery healer with her crimson magic. The knight would become a cliff note to your psyche, a tack onto an endless tally-board. You were used to being hunted.

It’d be minutes before you realized you weren’t alone.

Gaze snapping upwards, you’d bare your teeth towards the intruder which marred your thoughts, only to find a translucent figure. You could feel her chill from here, Her feathered speckling like a shawl over her shoulders, the wings behind her blanketing into a beautiful frame. She reached a hand towards you, although her smile was too thin to be kind. She didn’t look much different than she’d appeared days prior within your dreams yet again. The Aegyptius creation deity. Why was she here?

You didn’t shy from her gaze, looking at her with both respect and provocation. She was in your mind, fragmented as it was while your body rampaged elsewhere. If there was anywhere you were dominion of, it was this. “I know who you are now, Matron,” you’d assure, your voice echoing in the dim expanse, rippling along the water of your thoughts. She seemed to catch your words, and her grin grew wider, eyes narrowing. She’d tut, and in a second you could feel her cold, mist-like hands on your shoulders, “I expect something more reverent from my martyr..but you will learn.”

“Martyr?” Your expression grew sour as she wouldn’t elaborate, toying with your frustration as she’d run her palms down your arms. An uncomfortable shiver would brace through your body, and you could feel your form stretch beneath as if her touch spurred your transformation all over again. She was cruel, a pained sigh leaving you as your teeth would clench.

Her grasp on you would tighten, feeling the brittleness of pin feathers beneath flesh, “Your mind may not remember, fledgeling…but all my creations know my whims. And yet you wish to rid yourself of me?” Her laugh would be musical, but the bite in her tone was awash with rage, thinly veiled as the Matron stalked circles around you.

The frustration that had flowed through you prior to your molt was flimsy now, embers against a cold snap. You felt your gut sink, fear bubbling thickly in your throat. You’d stopped looking at her by now, your gaze piercing down into nothingness. All you could manage was a pitiful nod, and you couldn’t tell if her snicker was anger from your lackluster response or joy from how compliant she’d rendered you. They were one in the same with your kind, you supposed.

“You cannot..although I’m certain you’ve already understood that.” She’d pause in front of your face, ghostly touch icy as she’d claw your chin to meet your gaze with hers. Her phrase would come quickly, as if she was excited to utter it, “And for penance…you must kill that witch.”

“What?” They weren’t dead already? Your molt would’ve torn her to shreds by now. What was happening in the waking world? Even within a dream, the thought of murdering another with your conscious mind churned your stomach, especially one that brought you food. Mercy. “Command my body to do it, then-”

“No. You must do this as human,” Her smile was dagger-thin now, and you swear sparks flashed from her maw when she spoke. “Not as bird. Your hunger will be your guide.” Her hands would cradle your face now, the chill of her spectral palms almost forgotten as your mind would rush and lurch. You could feel the knaw of famine in your gut, a terrible feeling, all too real.

“I reject this- she has been kind, I-” The Matron would’ve disappeared immediately, the thawing of your flesh the only reminder. Your plea would be met with silence, hyperventilation coaxing your heart into overdrive. Thudding in your skull, you could almost feel the weight of bone in your jaws, your throat suddenly parched. You’d rasp, drawing your hands close to cradle yourself as the world grew fuzzy and vague, “I don’t want to be a monster..”

“Oh, my martyr..” She’d murmur, her voice suddenly swirling along the shell of your ear, freezing your hunch in place.

“That’s what I made you for.”

Your mind would swim, lucidity and unconsciousness blending into tar which filled your brain. You’d blink, heavier than before..and just before you’d wake, you’d feel her touch on your shoulder again.

“Survivε, mυ μάρτυρας..”

------------------------------------------

You’d regain your mind halfway through it all. Your body ached and tore within you, the subtle itch of plumage molting from your skin a feeling you couldn’t soothe. You were in the barn.

Your arms were held back as you’d kneel on the floor, a searing heat plaguing your wrists as you’d fight against its hold- your chains. They’d manage to cage you. If you hadn’t been in so much pain, you would’ve wheezed relief at that. Your tongue was dry, the taste of blood and bone absent on your lips. You hadn’t eaten anyone during your transformation, and yet your body twinged with agony all the more for it. You had no fuel to offer you shifting body, and so it ate you from the inside to power your return to being humanoid. Panting a low whine, spasms would twitch your form as your bones would grow heavier within your flesh, solid all the way through. Even through your strain, a quiet shuffle would draw your eyes immediately- your heightened instincts were always the last things to go. In the recluses of the barn stood your prior attacker, although her attention was focused elsewhere, ghosting over something in the palm of her gloved hand. Thank fuck.

It was only now you could get a good look at her. Her hair was auburn, braided sharply in cascading strands which met the nape of her neck. It had been chilled near its ends, pale and almost wispy, as though something had leached the color from it. Sorcery? Stress? You couldn’t tell at first glance, but the perpetual scoff that seemed to mold into her face signaled the latter.

Blueish gray irises stared into what she held, and it was only when you growled a restrained snarl at the sight did her eyes lock to yours. She was holding one of your shorn feathers, the visage making your hackles raise. You wouldn’t shy from her gaze as you had with Wanda, even raising your chin higher so you looked down at her with pinprick pupils- you were an adversary. A challenger. You didn’t fear her. Your head throbbed, the heavy burn of your engraved chains a constant reminder.

She’d approach you with malice- unsurprising given your circumstances, but the prick of a metal blade against your neck was a little more shocking. This early? Damn. You’d grit your teeth but remain steadfast, even as she’d glower over you.

“Ossifraga, dic omnia quae scis.” She’d spit, her words foreign yet familiar in your ears. ‘omia’ was a word you gleamed in an instant - ‘everything’, yet the rest was butchered in her mouth. You’d bare your teeth at her, grin sickeningly raw even as she’d press her knife’s edge to your nape. “Dic mihi omnia Fraga, ne te interficiam sicut columbam-“

Her anger would shatter at the creaking barn door, flinching just as you did. At least one similarity between the two of you. A familiar soothing tone would echo to you, honeyed and thick, albeit strangled from…anger. Anger?

“I leave you for one second, you глупый козел-“ Wanda muttered harshly, her stomping footfalls sharply rattling in your skull. She’d pluck the knight’s hand away from you, grip harsh as she’d try to wrestle away their weapon- futile, as their shock to Wanda’s insult only lasted so long. From your attacker’s reaction, it seemed they shared a language. Interesting. “And here you are, nicking my patient-“

You’d struggle at Wanda’s words, trying to show her your discomfort. Your wrists continued to burn, and you swear their imprint would be branded on your skin if they weren’t taken off soon. And yet, it may be safer if you remain chained. The Matron’s words still throbbed in your ears, a blinding sight locking your gaze onto Wanda before you bit it back down. You’d breathe, ragged, before gasping a sound which seemed to catch her attention. Her nimble fingers would move to start unshackling you, before being caught by Natasha’s rough grip, pulling her immediately back, “What are you doing-!? It’ll kill you-“

“I won’t harm…her..-“ You’d hiss, finding your bearings as your larynx would thrum with your voice again. You’d glare at the hunter, voice steadfast even through your pain, “You’re- a different story, knight..let me go, and maybe I’ll consider.”

You saw her jaw flex at your tone, malice seeping from every beat of her heart. She’d release Wanda with a tight-lipped grumble, your wrists losing their binds seconds later. You’d rub at the tender flesh for a split second, gasping and hiding away as it’d still bubble with scorching heat. You were too late, and soon your wrists would scar over. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt as bad next time, perhaps.

You’d sit up, movements sluggish as you’d sync again with a heavier frame. Your glance would be wary, looking to Wanda as if the knight wasn’t there. You saw annoyance flash across the hunter’s expression, and satisfaction bloomed in yours. Let her be upset. “What happened..? You shackled me, I am thankful for it.”

“And yet your wrists don’t look happy..” Wanda would respond with muffled concern, although you’d retreat from her scarlet magic’s attempt to heal- scars proved you had lived, this one above all. This one showed you could trust the healer to protect you when you couldn’t protect her. The slow rumble of starvation proved you wouldn’t be able to protect her for a long time. She’d sigh, but wouldn’t press further. “You’ve been in the barn for three days, we put you here on the evening of the first-“

Your expression faltering would quiet her words, a shaky inhale slicing into the room’s air. Three days. “I’ve never been..” you’d grip your hair as you spoke, bending to pull more of you closer. You’d stare at your shorn feathers, brilliant white where they lay unheated, almost ghostly in the thin light of Wanda’s shed.

“I’ve never been transformed for that long.”

“And why should we believe you? You could feather again as we speak- kill us all.” The knight would glare at you, though there was a chance she never stopped, boring a hole into your skull which you gladly challenged. You’d bark a laugh, the sound uncomfortable in your raw chest and yet you reveled in how she flinched away. The air grew thick and still, “If you hunt my kind with that attitude, you obviously know nothing of the Aegyptius.”

“Then enlighten me, Fraga-”” She said that like an insult to you, and yet it didn’t register.

“And why the hell should I-?”

“Because we have a common goal, you dolts-“

At Wanda’s interjection, your voice would sliver and slip away, her face red and scrunched with frustration. It was almost adorable how her nostrils flared with her words, yet the rage in her eyes was something that stirred sorrow inside you. Something clicked in the back of your mind, memories from your brood when you were young, and yet nothing registered in the fog of retorting anger. There was curiosity on the hunter’s face, shoulders squared back at Wanda’s tone, and yet your mind still held what the knight had said before.

“What did you call me?” Your words stumbled as you’d shift to stand, legs frail under the weight of yourself. You wouldn’t see the knight’s bewildered expression until much later, too busy keeping your feet underneath you, “Fraga…do you not even know what you are?” “Enlighten me,” you’d taunt, clipped thin between your barred teeth. Wanda would scoff, shaking her head in your peripheral.

“You are Ossifraga. Bone-breaker, the unclean bird..” Your eyes would narrow, but not in the way the hunter wanted, it seems. These names meant nothing to you. “A mistake upon your feathered kind. A blight-'' Her words would build in strength, low as she’d stalk dangerous steps towards you. You looked towards Wanda, her hands slowly raising as scarlet magic grew to weave around her fingers.

“Others of your kind can be minstrels, songbirds or doves- even raptors can experience valor as warriors…but you, Fraga, are the mutated husk of your false god.” She spit her tone with vitriol, acidic. The receding down on the back of your neck rose as your blood ran cold- Your heartbeat thudded in your ears, a lump swelling in your throat, but it wasn’t all fear. There was something else, a chill unfamiliar to your waking form, coaxing your mouth open. You resisted, even your back reached the worn wood of the barn’s walls and the knight’s voice swarmed back into focus.

“A dangerous monster, consuming the bones of innocents and leaving plague in your wake,” A gleaming metal shone near her wrist, and your stomach dropped all too late. The knife was probably sacred, intricately carved with markings you could hardly make out in the blur of motion, her gloved hand grasping your shoulder while the other swung to pierce your stomach.

“You’re the infection I must quell-”

Your maw opened before you could think.

“Αμολάω-!” You’d shriek, your voice hissing with the inflection of many. You heard the clatter of metal on the ground as your tone echoed forth. The knight would barrel backwards, clutching her head as Wanda flinched behind her, the shockwave of your words hitting her fainter the further it went from your mouth.

You kicked away the knight’s dropped blade, another command echoing from you, your tone no longer your own, cold and bitter on your tongue, “Γονατίστε, παράσιτα- Θα σε καταβροχθίσω χωρίς δεύτερη σκέψη..”

The hunter sunk to her knees before your sentence had finished. You’d gasp a second later, your lungs filled with air as though they’d never have before. Blinking, you’d feel a tenseness in your body, arms trailing with thin plumage which quickly sunk beneath your skin. You’d watch it leave with a cold numbing shock, jaw slung open with a heavy breath. Your thoughts translated your foreign words after a few moments, ‘Let go. Kneel, vermin. I will devour you without a second thought.’

Your feathers had never grown beyond your molt, confined to the hellish day a month where you were no longer yourself. Your hands tremored, ghosting over the goosebumps that had been left behind. It’s like the feathers had never been there- and yet you could feel your body creak and crunch, as though impatient.

The hunter stood a few seconds later, gait slow as she’d physically wrench herself from your command’s thrall. She’d brush at her scuffed armor, plagued with the barn’s dirt which clung to the metal, “I know what you’re saying. Your pronunciation is weaker, and yet it is still-”

“The language of my kind,” You’d mutter without sympathy, scoffing as the knight seemed to take offense to your interruption. “You’ve stripped it of its history..it's what you spoke before.” You’d never learned your own tongue, and yet half your thoughts spoke in it now. A shiver rolled down your spine, a cascading chill that felt like an awaiting grasp.

“Ah, so it can listen..” She’d sneer, glance harsh as she’d eye her forlorn blade again. Wanda’s interjection would be seen before it was heard, scarlet magic weaving around the hilt before daintily grasping it, pawing it over to her awaiting palm. “And so must you, Romanova..” The way she curved the words had a sense of familiarity, drawing a frustrated huff from the other woman. You’d narrow your eyes, but it wasn’t your turn to speak anymore, “You both listen, or you leave my barn with nothing but a death wish. Am I clear?”

You’d nod slowly, and by Wanda’s sigh, you assumed the knight did the same. “Alright. Let’s go somewhere cozier, shall we?”

------------------------------------------

Wanda’s home would’ve been just as comfortable as it had been the prior evening, albeit more cramped. Between three people in the living room, a thin glow of red magic seeping through the slats of wood that boarded the kitchen up, and the deadly eye contact you and the knight shot at each other every second, the air was never thicker.

“And you tore through the kitchen wall,” Wanda’s words were analytical, the gnawing feeling of guilt settling heavy in your gut. You kept your distance from her, a pang of hunger grinding into your thoughts the second you grew closer to the witch. You chewed at the inside of your lip as her palm waved towards the construction her sorcery partook in. Her shrug was too easy, “Not afraid of remodeling, after Romanova mistook my window for a door-”

She’d almost bite towards the hunter, a simmering scoff laced between her accented tone. “Is that your name? ‘Romanova’?” The knight would leer at your question, slinging her arm against the heavy metal of her armor. From Wanda’s scoff, it seems she’d gotten the same reaction while you were out. “You butcher my family title, Fraga-”

“Give me your name and I won’t have to.” You’d raise a brow as her eyes locked to yours, your breath thin and still. You felt the cold in your throat again, creeping like a retch up your windpipe- yet you swallowed it with huskier words, “Since we’re all in the sharing mood. Aren’t we?”

Her sigh was almost palpable, hissing in a low breath, “I am Natasha Alianovna Romanova. Templar of Latrodectus, it’s esteemed widow.” That title meant nothing to you, although your unfitting reaction seemed to knock her down a few pegs. Her reply was less angry than curious, “Did you ever earn a name, Fraga?”

“Earn?” Your snort brought an angry heat to Natasha’s face, perplexed laughter ricocheting through your solid skeleton, “You really do know nothing of my kind. We do not remember names. Unimportant.”

You wouldn’t see Wanda’s furrowed look until she exhaled sharply, looking away from you with crossed arms. Your mind sunk and crackled whenever you looked in her direction, suddenly parched. The flutter in your stomach remained, bringing an uncomfortable nausea rather than burst of curiosity. You kept your eyes on Natasha, expression hollowed, “Why do either of you stay? This..is your house, Wanda, I know-”

“Because we want to help you-” “She does- mhph-” Wanda’s hand would outstretch towards Natasha, blocking her mouth with a wispy scarlet sheen. You looked at Wanda’s shadow, feeling her sigh as your gaze never met hers. Her voice was calmer yet thin, strained between forces, “Do you want to rid yourself of your feathers?”

“Yes,” Your quick response earned an unseen smile from the witch, although your skin grew clammy at the thought. Natasha shuffled, and when you met her eyes you saw hers were raised, almost in shock, her mouth still clasped closed. “Then we have a common interest. This one can find a method beyond violence- and if your transformation is progressing faster, then it is my role to bring you back to normalcy.”

You’d meet her glance now, her smile radiating a warmth into you that culled away some of the chill, satiated you. Your palms felt your own, awkwardly poised as you offered your hold to the witch, her touch filling you with an unfamiliar satisfaction. You shook her hand against yours, ignoring Natasha’s silent indignation burning into your skull. Perhaps you could control yourself- you could protect each other, “Thank you, Wanda.”

“Ah, none of that- you are a medicinal marvel..” She’d tease, your thanks rolling right off of her. You met her grin with your own, her words shushing as she’d lean to you, “Think of what it will do for my prices, to heal an Ossifraga-”

Your laugh was a startling welcome, filling you with mirth as it was returned. “I will pay you then. How many feathers-?” Her hand patted yours before receding, wiping her palm along her clothed side. “...I’ll keep a running tab for you, Птичка.”

------------------------------------------

The sun had risen into midday, and you basked in its sunlight. Your shoulders felt tense as you hauled supplies towards the wagon Wanda and Natasha had acquired an hour ago from Belmoor proper. You’d hung back, admiring the hazy scarlet tendrils which packed Wanda’s belongings. The two had found you handing random objects to the sorcerous helpers when they returned, although Natasha was pulled away by the witch before she could crow about the non-essentiality of bringing Wanda’s butter churn.

The mule that was attached to the wagon- Daisy, Doris, something like that- had been chewing on the turf as you’d settled another crate of rations along the wagon’s bed, pushing it into place with a heavy shove. It was a ten days road travel to Arkridge, the capital of this province, as you’d been told. Its libraries held what could be the first of many secrets. The forest never spoke of it, yet its grandeur was palpable even through Natasha’s gruff words. She hadn’t tried to stab you again, although her glare was seething whenever you met it.

You passed each other by as you’d return towards the house, huffing an unimpressed groan as her haul was much smaller than yours. She’d abandoned her armor for now, and you watched as the musculature of her back shifted as she’d set her barrel down. You could take her if you had to, even without your strength- though the scabbard along her back gave you pause, the longsword’s hilt gleaming in the light. It had been engraved, similar to the leather sheath that bound it, and you’d guess it was the same inscription. Runic and familiar, it brought your thought to your chains, their markings similar yet worn. Perhaps you’d find a way to ask about it, if you could have a conversation without insulting each other.

Your side met Wanda’s as you leaned in her vicinity, your gaze locked onto the knight a dozen meters away. The witch’s voice was smoothed and sweet, honey-like as she’d offer her palm to yours again, inspecting the scarring along your skin as you’d accept. “Your name isn’t Margo, is it?”

You shook your head, still in her embrace, “No. I just needed something to give to you. Satisfy..”

Your words petered out into silence, her squeeze of your hand gentle, shying away from the raw flesh of your wrists. “You don’t have to do that, Ласточка. I have countless things to call you that you won’t forget.” Her wink made your face flush, shying away from her gaze as her tone wrapped around your thoughts. Her giggle wasn’t lost on you, a fondness in her expression you couldn’t decipher. “Will you tell me what that means?”

She’d shake her head, just before you heard Natasha’s heavy footfalls towards you. The forested grove retreated behind as you three would set forth a few minutes later, silence thick. Bellmoor would be forgotten, in favor of new memories. Perhaps your first night at camp would be more riveting.

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Tag List: @mousetheorist

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yanderes-galore · 3 months

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Can I request dark soul with platonic yandere lothric and Lorian for the ashen one?

I'll try my best, sure!

BIG Thanks to Dark Souls/Gears Anon for providing me a direction to go in for this! It helps a lot :) 💜

Yandere! Platonic! Elder Prince Lorian + Younger Prince Lothric Concept

(Ashen One! Darling)

Pairing: Platonic - Sharing

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Unhealthy attachment, Manipulation, Clingy behavior, Kidnapping, Isolation, Overprotective behavior, Angst, Soft yanderes, Forced companionship.

Anon brings up a good point, you'd have to know these two beforehand in order for them to have a platonic obsession.

Fate likes to play sick games when it comes to these two.

In your past you served the Twin Princes.

The two have always been neglected and you were the only one to show any kind of care to them.

You could be a childhood friend, maybe they saw you as the parent they never had, somehow they have been attached to you.

Which may have been the reason you were killed.

Their father, Oceiros, was obsessed with making the perfect heirs to continue the Age of Fire.

Seeing you as a poor influence, you were sacrificed to the First Flame.

As you were weak you didn't change much.

Which is what made you an Unkindled, in fact you became The Ashen One.

The princes most likely did not forget about you.

You were close to them and they most likely resent their father for multiple reasons now.

Fate must've been what brought you back to them.

You were brought back because The Flame was not linked by the Twin Princes.

Your journey is what makes you stronger than you were.

Perhaps you were simply some servant before.

But death after death has encouraged you to become stronger.

You fight many foes by the time you see the Twin Princes.

You barely recall them by the time you get past their three guards.

Lothric and Lorian remember you, however.

At first he expects another Unkindled to try and force him into his role, to kill him and his brother.

Which is why he prepares his brother, Lorian, to kill you.

That is until Lorian recalls who you are, even in his changed state.

Lothric does too.

It's strange... you've changed so much.

You've become stronger since their father cast you into the fire.

Lorian says nothing, staring down at you as you remember who these people once were.

However... Lothric sobs.

Lorian quickly responds to his brother's sadness as the younger prince makes gestures to you.

"Drop your weapon and come here! Please, this is not your fate. We will not fight you, my Unkindled."

I imagine Lothric would be the one to quickly scoop you into his arms and embrace you.

Lorian embraces you both and they most likely don't let go for awhile.

For once, according to them, fate had decided to play nice.

After you were torn from them you were given to them again.

You may struggle at first but they refuse to kill or harm you.

Lorian is a defender of both of you in return for your affection, you are their beloved companions.

As the eldest brother he kills any foes who come to harm his brother or you.

Lothric, the sickly man, clings to you as if he's scared to lose you.

He's scared you'll be torn from him again, as a result he clings to you like a child to a toy.

You all may be changed... but they still remember and recognize you.

Many will die before they even think of letting you go.

If you tried to leave them then Lothric may order you caged.

Both princes cling to you as they've had no one else to cling to.

They yearn for some sort of compassion from you, be it a friend or parent.

You'll be treated well here... you'll even be well protected.

All they ask is for you to never leave them again...

For that they'll give you everything you wish as you watch the Era of Fire fizzle out.

#yandere dark souls #yandere dark souls 3 #yandere twin princes #yandere lorian #yandere lothric #platonic yanderes

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athanasius-symposium-of-writings · 8 months

Note

I love your Astarion work! I was curious if you could write a semi lengthy (if possible) angst/jealous Astarion x Tav/Reader??? Also hurt reader/Tav is always great too. I crave comfort lol

I hope you like it!

Rated: M

Warnings: spoilers for dark ending, transformation, vampiric

The manor is oppressive, heavy as if a ball and chain are leashed to your neck forcing you to bow, this place screams for submission. The want to give in, to let go, be controlled, dominated. It sickens you as Astarion guides you around the home of all his trauma. Naturally, you want to comfort him, hold his hand, and squeeze it to reassure him. However, this is not the time or place. The deeper you both travel into the bowels of Cazador’s palace, the heavier this weight is on your back, choking you as if you misbehaved.

Then came the cells. The sins of the past stabbed and twisted between Astarion’s ribs nicking his heart.

He is distant… You try to tell him this isn’t his fault, that Cazador is to blame. He was used just like they are.

The rules of being a vampire do not help as it is revealed what happened to Cazador’s master is part of the cycle to learn, adapt, and succeed. The rule of two where one will kill the other and repeat the cycle with another. The throne of blood you pray Astarion wants nothing to do with as he sees what is the cost of power.

The Black Mass is unholy and you silently pray to Lathander for his radiance to shine and burn that bastard Szarr to ashes.

Wishful thinking as the moment you enter the ritual chambers things go south, fast.

With now all seven of his spawn, he is strong-- Stronger and though using the spells and holy water do weaken him (barely), he is stronger than most foes.

"Perhaps after my ascension, I shall take your spawn friend as my own." The taunt is spoken during the battle as you struggle to keep up and your hirelings are spread out fighting the summoned bats, werewolves, and ghouls. The words are intended to be salt upon the wound as Astarion is helpless to fight against his master and this ritual. The screams do not help, the blood in the air does not help, and…

You… Are afraid.

This is too close to what happened to you, at the temple of Kanchelsis. Your master was pleased to watch as you writhed in agony as you turned into the beast you are. A vampire who shares the bestial madness of a werewolf.

Being tossed into a column like nothing as the vampire lord takes special interest in attacking you. Your body is in pain, bruises with internal bleeding, and the mental fear is keeping you on the ground struggling to get up. The laugh echoes, your vision blurring, and when you blink you… See your master standing above you with the bat-shaped head of the staff making you tilt your head up.

“Stay right there.”

He… He is going to win… He is going to ascend…

He is going to kill Astarion!

You must push on! Every muscle in your body protesting as you get up, your blood spilling as your form shifts to that beast, bigger, deformed, and grotesque. The whispers of the dark father in the back of your mind as you roared like a beast unleashed from its cage. Jaheira had been teaching you druidic magic as it seemed you had a talent for it. Seems that comes from the beast within, it hungers and Cazador looks like the perfect toy to chew on.

There is a cost, you know it, this power is tapping into the essence of vampirism. The beast, the hunger that comes with the gift and blessing of Kanchelsis; that cost you care not about, not now. No longer will you allow yourself to be chained down by the memories of the years of torture and abuse!

Astarion needs you, you need him, and you need each other.

Damn the cost! Damn this place, damn everything!

The beast roars with rage! An animal instinct as it recognizes Astarion as the mate, a mate in danger.

The slaughter is fighting to this bat-shaped form you are in, Cazador can’t keep up even in his mist form. When you try to rip his head off or attempt to fly and grab him; he knows how to flee.

“Scurry and scatter like rats!” Your voice is not your own, it is the beast that relishes in the hunt this lordling provides.

There are points when you blackout, in and out of a waking dream, then when the bloodlust no longer consumes your body and mind. Your body is back to normal but the wounds are worse, you need blood soon in order to properly heal.

“Wake up!”

Astarion. The sigh of relief hurts though it is being healed, well attempted to, away by the hireling cleric. Your eyes watch the scene of long-awaited and overdue revenge take place.

“I need your help.” His voice does not hide the desperation, the need.

This was your warning, you should have told him to stop or… You can’t raise a claw against him. There is too much between you to end it with steel or claw. So your eyes and mind are his to see through.

It is through those he seals his fate and the fate of seven thousand souls.

#fanfiction #reader insert #astarion #anon ask #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3

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romiantic · 9 months

Text

SPIDER SIS !

→ READING: older sister!black!reader

→ GENRE + WARNINGS: fluff + the n word is said

→ A/N: not to be confused, 1610!miles will be in red and 42!miles/miles g will be in purple. also y/n will perceive to be around my age, so 17-19 years old at the time of this writing !

— being the eldest sibling/older sister is quite…chaotic. from the birth of your baby brothers to now, you’ve never known peace cause it’s always something with one of the two. miles g is arguing it’s you over the tv remote or miles is lost in his math homework

— cause of his smart mouth and pettiness, arguments with miles g would be a daily thing. from sun up to sun down this boy will find the most minuscule thing to argue with you about. one time he blamed you for missing his favorite show like it wasn’t 100% his fault….

— whenever you and miles g are arguing, miles would stay out of it and hang out with his parents. he never takes sides, since he loves you both equally, but he does try to hear both sides of the story. sometimes he’ll try to play peacemaker but it just….rarely works

— this nigga miles g is such a snitch omg. he wouldn’t snitch on miles often but you, he running to the nearest parent. majority of the time, you would have to bribe him to not saying nothing

— even through the chaos, it’s a loving essence with the two. through the fights and arguing, they both have deep love for their older sister, they wouldn’t trade you for the world. also, these two are veryyyy overprotective over you, sometimes too much

— anybody talk shit about any of you three is gonna get hit or flat out cussed out by you or miles g. especially miles g, he doesn’t play those games about his siblings and will buck at anybody, friend or foe, he don’t care

— if you have a crush on someone, please don’t tell either miles cause miles is gonna tell miles g and miles g will find their entire identity like he works for the CIA. don’t let it be a boy either cause miles g will watch that boy with daggers in his eyes

— the boys have put a lot of their trust in you! they feel like they can tell you anything and almost any secret, unless it’s too embarrassing

— when it’s not chaotic in the morales household, you guys are usually chillin in the living room either watching tv or doing your own thing. if anime is playing on the tv, all three of you subconsciously hop on the couch and watch it together

— watching anime together is one of the times you love hanging out with your brother the most. all three of you are huge anime nerds (the worst is miles g), so sitting around the couch to start a new anime or catch up on an old one is quite fun and peaceful. also, anime is a frequent conversation, a lot of debates happen and one too many spoilers from miles

— when you were younger, you used to help your mom wash the boys hair. if your dad was at work, which he more than likely was, your mom would ask to help wash and style one of the boys hair while she did the other. it was fun watching the toddler miles splashing water and throwing bath toys at each other

— miles g loves stealing your food and doesn’t give a single damn about it. if you doordash some food, don’t let miles g peep it or grab it for you cause he will steal something. you know what’s funny? he’ll steal your food and judge you for the food you bought like it was his money spent on it….

“why am I missing three tenders? there’s supposed to be eight”

“yeah n/n, that shit was dry as fuck. don’t order from that restaurant again”

“nigga- did YOU buy it?”

“I’m just sayin that I wouldn’t waste my money on no shit like that”

— all three of you have the most ridiculous nicknames for each other and it would be something that happened in y’all childhood. y’all even have code names if y’all talkin shit about each other

— the sibling group chat would go crazyyyy, but not all the time. usually it’s tiktoks, y’all talkin shit, or some fight video that happen in school. more than likely miles g was instigating the fight

— for miles + miles g 19th birthday, y’all got matching spider tattoos and miles g got a matching nose piercing with you !

— when the boys were first born, they had their ears pierced and y’all parents would try to get matching earrings for the three of you. but majority of the time it wouldn’t work cause miles g refused to wear small hoops or a pink earring, even if it was sorta boy-ish

— miles g was the first to learn cuss words in Spanish, so he would teach miles about it. miles was clueless and didn’t know about they were bad words until rio popped his hand and punished him about it. poor miles :(

— when it comes to relationships, the boys always run to you before running to your mom. they would describe the girl and ask if you know her. if not, you would find her info and become a wingman for your baby bros

⭑ another long set of hcs, sigh

⭑ was this me mostly projecting being the oldest/big sister ? maybe !

⭑ lemme know if y’all want a part 2 cause I have so much to say for big sister reader 🤭

𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐏 💗: Psalm 100:5

SPIDERMAN: ATSV MASTERLIST + MAIN MASTERLIST

#* 💭🎧 ⌗ 𓏲 „ ˋmia is writing !#x black reader #x black!reader #spiderman atsv x black reader #spiderman atsv x black!reader #miles x black reader #miles x black!reader #miles morales x black reader #miles morales x black!reader #earth 42 miles x black reader #earth 42 miles x black!reader #prowler miles x black reader #prowler miles x black!reader

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starfxkr · 3 months

Note

JJ catching you using a vibrator while you think everyone's gone, he'd totally help you out 🤭

sex toys are def friends not foes when it comes to him 🙈

jj felt bad at first, barging in on you like that but hes surprisingly mature about it, “iono man i dont think you should be embarrassed everybody needs a lil— release now and then i mean shit i was just— nevermind thats not helpin.” he could tell from the obviously distressed look on your face that you were mortified.

where he lacked in comforting words he more than made up for in more than comforting actions. thats how he was able to maneuver you into his lap, legs pread as he teased your swollen clit with your vibrator.

you never thought you’d end up here— jj had been the subject of all your fantasies for as long as you’ve known him, and here he was coaxing another orgasm out of you.

you were panting, body covered in a thin layer of sweat from the slight exertion and damn near in ters from the overstimulation. “jayj— i dont think i can come anymore—“ youre cut off by a sharp whine, trembling as he slid two fingers inside your creamy pussy.

“yea you can, just gotta relax can you do that for me?” he presses a damp kiss under your ear making your breath hitch. you were nowhere near relaxed, so he briefly removed his fingers to give your tense tummy a soothing rub, smearing your arousal on uour skin.

you took a deep breath, “y-yea?” despite the slight apprehension your did your best to calm yourself, sighing when he slips his fingers back inside of you, crooking his fingers to stroke the spot that made your legs shake. “oh! jayj somethings happening you gotta stop i have to pee!”

you were practically hyperventilating, eyes screwed shit as his fingers moved faster and he placed the vibrator against the sensitive underside of your clit.

“you’re doin just fine i promise, let papa jay take care of you.” he couldnt hide the pleased lilt in his voice as he felt you get wetter, dripping down his fingers like a dam broke.

you were shaking in his arms when he finally removed the toy, gasping for breath. “how the fuck did you do that to me?” you couldnt even open your eyes yet, but the rumble in his chest made it clear he was struggling to control his laughter. “jj im serious its not funny! what did you do to me?”

you had begun to scratch at the hand still between your legs in retaliation, making him finally pull his digits from between your now relaxed walls. “i didn’t what im pretty sure nobody else could kitten,” to add insult to injury, he flicked you in the face with your cum making you flinch. “i made you cum.”

#✨.txt #jj maybank prompt

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danielfuckingricciardo · 10 months

Text

I Think This is the Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship - Daniel Ricciardo x Reader (Platonic)

Pairing - Daniel Ricciardo x Reader (Platonic)

Word Count - 2.7k

Content Warning - Swearing, sexism mention

Synopsis - The reader loses a friend, but gains one in the form of a previous foe.

Author’s Note - This one has been sat in my drafts for a while, and I honestly wasn’t sure where it was going at all, so I kinda decided to make this like a platonic fic where Daniel and the reader are just friends? Not sure how I feel about it, but I kinda like the kind of flirty banter relationship dynamic going on by the end! Let me know if you like this sort of thing, or if you prefer the ones where they fuck nasty (I’ll be back to that stuff soon, don’t worry lol)

“Go fuck yourself.” You say, and Daniel scoffs.

“But wouldn’t it be more fun if you fucked me instead?” He retorts, and you roll your eyes.

“I’m not in the mood to play these fucking games, Daniel, not right now. Just… fuck off and leave me alone.” You shout back, fighting the angry tears that had begun to form in your waterlines.

“Oh, stop playing, you know you secretly love me, you’re just too stubborn to admit it.” He says, and you sigh.

“Look, I’ve had a shit night, I just wanna go home and cry, so I really can’t be arsed to deal with your teasing bullshit right now.” You say, taking a step towards him to point your black-polished finger in his face.

It’s at this point that you see Daniel’s cocky expression drop to one of concern. At least, that’s what it looked like to you, but you couldn’t be sure. This wasn’t one of the expressions you had filed away in the section of your mind that related to Daniel. You hadn’t seen it before. You’d seen disgust, loathing, and that cocky smirk you always wanted to punch off of his face, but never concern.

The bass of the music thrummed inside your chest, and the smoke and dull red lights of the club offered you some protection as your eyes began to lose grip on your tears, sending them cascading down your cheeks.

“Just, leave me alone, yeah?” You say, your voice barely audible, before you storm out of the club and into the brisk coldness of the evening air.

You wrap your arms around your body to preserve what little warmth remained inside you. Every little hair on your body stood on end as the wind whipped around you, cooling you from the outside as your now frozen heart did the same from the inside. Your entire body felt numb. The only heat you felt was from the fresh, salty tears that dripped down your cheeks.

You hold up your arm to hail a passing taxi, but the driver sails right past you. Not deterred, you try again, only for the driver to pass you without even sparing a glance in your direction.

“Fuck. Shit. Fuck.” You yell in frustration, stamping your foot on the concrete path as a spoilt child might after being denied a shiny new toy.

You hear a whistle from behind you, and an approaching cab flashes his indicators and stops in the lay-by beside you.

You can’t help but silently curse your inability to whistle, and consider for a moment grovelling to whoever had called the cab to allow you to take it instead.

Turning around, you are met with those same sad, brown eyes you had seen for the first time in the club. Daniel had followed you outside, and had been the one to call the cab.

“It looked like you were having a little trouble with the cabbies, so I thought I’d help you out.” Daniel says, and you shoot him a quick smile in gratitude. You may not really like him, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to be seen as rude, no matter how much the sight of him made your blood boil.

“I thought I told you to leave me alone?” You say, walking beside him to approach the door of the black cab.

“It’s gonna take more than that to get rid of me, you must know that by now.” Daniel says, and you can’t help but chuckle in response.

“Oh, believe me, I know. If that was all it took I’d have been rid of you months ago. You’re like a bad penny, Ricciardo.”

“Bad penny is actually my middle name.” Daniel says, with a flash of a smile.

“Oh yeah? I thought it was ‘Danger’ or ‘I’ve got a massive cock and a hotel room five minutes from here’?”

“I’ve got a few middle names, actually. Those are… some of them.” Daniel responds, and you chuckle once again, wiping away a cold tear from your cheek.

Daniel opens the door of the cab, allowing you to slide into the seat.

“Hey, budge up.” Daniel says, poking you in the shoulder.

“You’re not coming with me.” You say, matter-of-factly.

“Oh yes I am. I can’t let you leave on your own when you’re crying and stuff.”

“Fine.” You say as you slide into the seat behind the driver.

Daniel takes the seat beside you and closes the door, allowing the cabbie to pull away and take off down the darkened street.

‘Where to?” The cabbie says, and you bite your lip.

“Fuck, I don’t know.” You say.

“Your hotel?” Daniel suggests, and you shake your head.

“Mine then.” Daniel says, “The Shard, please mate.”

The cabbie nods and returns his focus to the busy London streets.

“So, what’s with you? I’ve never seen you cry before, it’s weird.” Daniel says, and you sniff.

“I’m not crying. Not really, anyway. I’m just angry and when I’m angry my eyes like to leak.” You respond, wiping away a stray tear from your cheek.

“Fair enough. What has you so angry? I’ve made you angry a million times, and you never cried then, so this must be serious rage, yeah?” He asks, that same concerned look reappearing on his face.

“You really wanna know?” You question, quickly glancing up from your lap to briefly make eye contact with Daniel.

“A problem shared is a problem halved, right?”

“Well, oh, it’s stupid really. You’ll laugh at me.” You say, keeping your eyes locked to your hands which were positioned in your lap, picking the skin at the edge of one of your cuticles.

“I promise I won’t laugh. Swear on my life.”

“Well, if you’re swearing on your life, then you must mean it, because you really love your life.” You chuckle, glancing up to meet Daniel’s eyes once again for a second. You could tell from that one look that he was serious, he really wanted to know what was bothering you so much.

“As I said, it’s stupid, but my friend who came out to celebrate with us, she disappeared, and I found out that she left with some guy. And I’m just so pissed off because she always does this. She always abandons me and leaves me on my own in random clubs in favour of random guys who’ll probably leave her on read the next day. And to top it all off, I check my phone and she’s messaged me to say that they’re in our hotel room so I probably should find somewhere else to stay the night. Like what the fuck, right?” You say, your anger rising within you once again.

“That’s fucked up, she can’t just kick you out of your hotel room like that.” Daniel says, and you nod.

“Exactly, and I paid for the fucking room too! Like, what? And I don’t have any other friends, everyone here hates me, so it’s not like I can just crash with someone else. Usually I end up finding some seedy bar that stays open all night and sitting there till the morning. But I just don’t wanna do that anymore. I’m done. This is the last time. And if it means I officially have no friends left on this planet anymore, then that’s fine, because I realise now that she wasn’t a good friend anyway.”

“You have friends, don’t be fucking insane.” Daniel says, and you scoff.

“Oh really, do I? Like who?” You ask sarcastically.

“Like me?”

“You’re not my friend, Daniel, you hate me. And you don’t have to pretend to be my friend now that you can see how truly pathetic I am.” You say, looking up into his eyes which appear to be filled with confusion.

“You think I hate you?” He asks, a tinge of hurt in his voice.

“Well, obviously, you do. All the competition, constant teasing and backhanded compliments to the press, I see it, and I understand it. Don’t try and deny it, Daniel.” You say, giving him a sad smile.

“I will try to deny it, because it’s not true! I don’t hate you, and I never have. It was all just… banter? I thought you knew that?”

“Huh, really?” You say, and Daniel nods.

“£15.70 please mate.” The cabbie says as the car comes to a stop outside the skyscraper that Daniel called home during your team’s brief stay in London.

Daniel pays the driver and the two of you step out once again into the cold night air.

You wrap your arms around your body to keep warm as you make your approach to the entrance of the building. Daniel notices this and shrugs his jacket from his shoulders, wrapping around your own and offering you a small smile.

“Thanks.” You say, and he nods at you.

“Does this mean that all this time I thought you were just… joking back to me that you actually hated me?” Daniel asks, breaking the silence that had descended between the two of you.

“I never hated you. I don’t think it’s possible for anyone to hate you. You’re just so damn loveable, everyone seems to think the sun shines out of your arse and it’s hard to deny it does. No matter how much I really, really wanted to hate you, I just… couldn’t.” You say, and Daniel laughs.

“Well, there you go then, you don’t hate me, and I don’t hate you. I think that makes us friends, right?” Daniel asks, nudging your shoulder with his own.

“I think there’s a few steps between being enemies and being friends we skipped, but considering I’m currently severely lacking in friends, I’m willing to skip a few of ‘em.” You say with a chuckle.

“Okay, so, now that we’re friends, you wanna tell me more about what happened with that bitch who abandoned you? You don’t have to, I just think it’d be good for you to get it all off your chest.” Daniel says, stopping to take a seat on an empty bench.

You take a deep breath in and out, watching as the water vapour clouds around you in the cold night air. You take a seat beside him and he squishes against you for warmth.

“Well, where do you want to start? We’ve known each other since we were kids. Went to boarding school together. We both never really fitted in, I got bullied a lot by the other kids for being a teacher’s pet. It didn’t help that the school were always using my karting trophies as a flex, showing me off like some prized pig. She was your typical nerdy kid, was always getting picked on for it, so I used to stand up for her. But then school finished, she continued her studies and I kept going with my racing.”

You take a pause and look over at Daniel, who appears to be listening intently. He gives you a nod with raised eyebrows, urging you to continue.

“Well, I tried my hardest to keep contact with her. Whenever I was around for races I always used to invite her out with us to catch up. But it always ended the same way. She’d cop off with some guy on the team, leaving me to fend for myself in the club. I always assumed she thought that I had plenty of driver friends to hang out with, so it wouldn’t be a problem, but maybe she just didn’t care? Like I get that she didn’t get to be that crazy party girl in her teens, neither did I, but you don’t just abandon your friend for a shag like that, right? Like that’s fucked up.”

“Why didn’t you have other friends, like other drivers, I mean?” Daniel asks, and you chuckle awkwardly.

“Well, that’s a loaded question if I’ve ever heard one. I guess I still had hang-ups about not fitting in. Shit had been tough as a girl in karting, a lot of the boys used to laugh at me and make fun. So I guess I just assumed that my teammates in F3 and F2 would do the same? It was just easier to keep my distance and protect myself than risk dealing with all that shit again. And now I’m here, Red Bull’s reserve driver, the only woman in touching distance of an F1 career right now, and I’m just totally isolated. Except for you, I guess.”

“Exactly, you have me now. Fuck her, and fuck all this anxiety you’ve got going on. Shitty kids will be shitty kids, but these guys on the grid, they’re good. Didn’t you see the praise and kind words they all said when journalists asked them about you? They’re all stoked that F1 is finally taking a step in the right direction, and I’m sure they’d be just as excited to get to know you as I am.” Daniel says, and you scoff.

“Trust me, you won’t be excited to get to know me once you actually start.” You say, and Daniel shakes his head.

“Well, I’m getting to know you now, and I like you. Besides, I think I already had a good idea of who you were as a person. You were willing to get in on the whole banter thing, which I liked. At least, I assumed it was just banter. Maybe that’s on me, I should’ve talked to you first before I started this whole teasing thing with the press, made sure we were both on the same page. I’m sorry for that, for making you think I hated you. I think you’re great actually, and I’m actually really proud of you for proving those sexist teenage cuntbags wrong.” Daniel says, and your previously frozen heart begins to defrost within you.

“Well, that’s really sweet of you to say. Thank you,” You say, pausing to take a breath, “I’d like to get to know you better too. The real Daniel, that is, not the carefully cultivated media personality version of you. Speaking of, you’ve gotta teach me how to do that.”

“Do what?” Daniel asks, a bemused look on his face.

“The PR shit. I mean, you’re so good at it! Like you’re not even on the grid this year and yet you still have more support than most of the guys out there!” You say, and Daniel chuckles.

“A winning personality is not something that can be taught, it’s something you’re born with, baby. But maybe, just maybe, I can take you under my wing and coax it out of you?” He suggests, nudging your shoulder gently with his own.

“Really? So I’d be like… your apprentice?” You ask, and he nods.

“Something like that. The Luke Skywalker to my Yoda.”

“Teach me to play the PR game, you will.” You say in a poor imitation of Yoda’s voice, and Daniel cracks up.

“Film nerd.” He says, wiping away a stray tear from his waterline that had escaped during his episode of laughter.

“Hey, you made the Star Wars reference first mate!” You say, slapping him on the arm.

“Fair enough. Now lets get inside, yeah? I’m freezing my nutsack off out here.” He says, standing from the bench and offering you his arm.

You stand and take Daniel’s arm, looping your hand onto his and pressing your freezing cold hand to his own. He jumps at the cold contact on his own warm skin, pushing your hand away and flashing you a middle finger with his spare hand.

You chuckle at his reaction, returning his rude hand gesture, earning another laugh from Daniel.

“(y/n), I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” Daniel says, and you roll your eyes.

“Casablanca? Really? Now who’s the film nerd?”

“Still you, you got my reference.” Daniel replies, a smug smile on his lips.

“Touché.”

#daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #f1 x reader #f1 x you

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leighsartworks216 · 5 months

Text

I Come With Knives Pt12

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Had this idea out of nowhere, and I thought it would be a good filler so I'm not jumping super far ahead very suddenly. I may do another part with the love test, but I wanted to go ahead and share this bit

Also, I know this is not at all like the fair or w/e in-game. I haven't played the game yet (😔) and so I based it mostly around my ren fair experience(s)

Warnings: food, eating, reference to starving, references to past abuse, references to emotional abuse, hints at torture methods, social anxiety, crowds, mentions of loud sounds and strong smells, honestly very fluffy I promise

Word Count: 1,906

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

I Come With Knives Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

The sights and sounds and smells were overwhelming. Crowds of people, young and old, wandering from stall to stall for food and merriment. Barkers beckoned them over for games, promising prizes for any who dared to test their luck.

It made your head spin. You stepped closer to Astarion, tentatively brushing your hand against his.

It was supposed to be fun - it was fun. Karlach had bounded on ahead with Wyll in tow, eager to test her skills at one of the games with loud proclamations of her imminent victory. Gale and Shadowheart were tempted by the wine tasting, whether to find the best of the bunch or to drink as much as possible before getting kicked out, it was impossible to tell. Lae’zel was particularly intrigued by a display of Dwarves demonstrating how they build weapons, the best way to sharpen them, and how to care for them so they last a lifetime and a half.

And here you were, at the very cusp of it all, seeking safety in Astarion.

“Ah, another first?” he asked, taking your hand in his and running his thumb along your knuckles. He wasn’t so bothered by the loud body of people or shouting and laughter - he’d been in the thick of it back when he sought victims for Cazador. Besides, he found it rather easy to blend in… And slip some tokens from the pockets of unsuspecting passersby.

You let out a long breath. “I don’t think so,” you admitted. “I feel like I’ve been to one of these before, but it’s all fuzzy. Maybe I just dreamt it.”

You both watched, amused, as Karlach cheered and whooped, excitedly taking the stuffed toy from the vendor, before turning bashful as she handed it to Wyll. They made a rather cute couple. Certainly the most normal of the bunch - and that was saying something.

Astarion snorted. “It would be rather difficult to dream up a place like this out of nothing.”

A couple passed by, brushing against your shoulder as they did. You instinctively stepped closer to Astarion to avoid the strangers’ touch, squeezing his hand. He frowned down at you.

“We can always go back to camp, love. They know the way back. And we’d get the whole place to ourselves.” He waggled his eyebrows playfully.

You chuckled, slightly strained. “You just want to read Shadowheart’s diary.”

“She has a diary?” he gaped, overemphasizing his words and pretending to be shocked. “Why, I had no idea! We should ensure it doesn’t get stolen by any unsavory types that might be lurking about.”

“You can’t read her diary.”

He sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. “Spoil sport.”

The idea was tempting, though. It would be quiet. There wouldn’t be people to bump into you or crowd you in. You could spend an entire day forgetting what lay ahead of you, what trials you had to face, what foes were sharpening their swords and awaiting your arrival.

With a deep breath, you took a hesitant step forward. And another, and another. Your friends were enjoying themselves… surely you could too, right?

“Let’s just… look around.”

Astarion followed along, close at your side. As you began wandering, glancing at stalls that offered handmade trinkets and jewelry, ciders, and even face painting, he worked to make the experience more bearable. This meant subtly directing you out of the paths of heedless fair-goers. Every now and again, he’d whisper snide little comments in your ear; snickering observations of an obviously rigged game upsetting a child who screamed for their parents to let them try again, remarks on intriguing tidbits of information overheard from loose-lipped conspirators, scowling growls at annoying vendors who tried to get your attention to look at their random nonsense.

He was your anchor, grounding you to the experience. His comments eased your anxieties little by little. Your shoulders relaxed, you looked around with wide eyes that sought to capture everything going on. You didn’t feel the need to run. Not with him there. You wished you could show how truly grateful you were for it.

You stepped into a tent toward the center of the fair. Immediately, a flood of smells hit your nose - smoked meats, tart fruit, something floral you couldn’t quite pin down. Chatter filled the air until it devolved into a wordless humdrum, buzzing ceaselessly in your ear like a persistent bug, but there seemed to be enough space to walk about. Astarion followed as you followed the empty space like a path.

Stalls all aligned against the walls presented various foods from all over Faerûn. Delicacies, both appetizing and slightly disturbing, sat next to chef specialties. Wood elves and druids with various prepared mushrooms and herbs, orcs with meat piled high, farmers from the surrounding area that gathered with their fresh-grown crops. There was something for everyone here, guaranteed.

You leaned closer to Astarion to speak without shouting over the noise. “Shall we find a booth for you?” you teased.

He laughed. “Darling, this is a veritable buffet. None quite compare to you, however,” he flirted with a seductive grin. He reveled in the way your heart skipped.

You both scanned the stalls a bit longer, until something caught Astarion’s eye. Excitedly, he tugged you along. “What is it?”

He grinned over his shoulder. “Something as sweet as you, dearest.”

At the end of the row, tucked away in a corner, was a mess of hobbits, cherry-cheeked and full of mirth. Their entire stand was full of baked goods, from cakes as tall as Astarion with a multitude of layers and intricate detailing, to itty bitty cakelets that would be the perfect size for a mouse decorated simply.

“Ah, here we are!” He plucked up a tiny cakelet and tossed a coin to a hobbit that was all freckles. When they thanked him, the rest piped up to thank him, too. He paid them no mind, instead tugging you somewhere quieter and more private, despite the bustling people that filled every inch of this tent. He held it up to you between his fingers, an offering. “A sweet treat for my sweet treat.”

You laughed despite the corniness of it, cheeks warming with affection. There was something about hiding away in a dark corner that felt like some cheesy romance novel directed to young teens. But you liked it. A rare moment of peace away from the world, with Astarion and his rounded eyes and his charming grin. “You don’t even know what it tastes like,” you teased, eyeing the cake warily.

He hummed as though the thought had never crossed his mind, but his smirk said otherwise. “Well, I had rather hoped to try it myself.” His voice dropped to a whisper as he leaned in until his breath brushed your ear. So close to your neck, and yet… you didn’t feel the need to pull away. “From your lips, of course.”

His words had an immediate effect on you - your heart raced wildly, your breath hitched, your thoughts spun. His red eyes watched you intently as you looked at the little cakelet. It was innocently iced white with a small red berry on top. But it wasn’t what it could taste like or what it could be laced with that made you hesitate. Hells, it could be fish paste and roe and you’d try it if he looked at you with those big, pleading eyes.

When you were behaving, when she acted like you were her most precious thing, she would feed you. Countless fruits and sweet meats had passed from her long fingers to your mouth, and now here Astarion was, doing much the same.

But it wasn’t the same.

She adored you as an item - a little plaything she could dote upon and torment as her mood dictated. Astarion truly cared about you, in ways unique to him. He was rude and demanding, but you never had to do anything. He’d be horribly needy for a hug or a cuddle, with no proper, easy way of asking, so he’d demand it, lamenting about how terribly lonely he was. But even then, despite his theatrics, you could turn him down with no consequences. No dark rooms or scold’s bridle awaited you. Even now, you could refuse entirely and he’d smile politely and tug you back into the throng of people. You could even feed yourself the cake and still accept his kiss. She would never be so kind. You would eat what she offered, or you would starve.

He could almost see the mental war you fought written on your face. The slight crease between your brows, the way your throat bobbed with an uncertain swallow. After a second too long, he panicked. He’d done something wrong, overstepped or ruined this entire relationship altogether. Whatever it was, he was about to step back and make a witty remark to laugh it off, and pray to all the gods who cared enough to listen that whatever he did the relationship was still salvageable. But you looked at him, and he froze, waiting for you.

You inhaled, gathering yourself. When you exhaled, you smiled, soft and sweet at him. “I trust you,” you whispered.

Somehow, by pure accident, he’d uncovered something horrible. And yet you seemed to be willing to press through it, to experience it anew with him. He was honored. Truly, genuinely, honored. You’d trusted him with so much already, and here you were, doing it again. Oh, he could kiss you without need of the cake to bolster his intentions.

Still, he held it up to your lips. The world around you disappeared as you glanced at the cake again, and opened your mouth. He watched your mouth attentively as you bit down, the juice of the red berry on top staining your upper lip. It was sweet: A vanilla cake covered in white chocolate with a tart red filling. But what truly made it wonderful was Astarion, when he tilted his head and slotted his lips with yours.

His tongue was quick to slip out and lick your lips, seeking the flavors you’d just experienced. You opened your mouth to him with a soft sound that made his undead heart seem to beat once more. His tongue dipped inside to taste more. He groaned quietly as the red berry hit his taste buds. Tilting his head to kiss you deeper, he caught a hint of the chocolate. Cupping your cheek with his free hand, he found the vanilla. You tasted sweet on your own, but this was heaven - if such a thing existed. He wondered what the rest of you would taste like if he spread the hobbits’ confectionaries along the rest of your body.

Unfortunately, the raucous laughter of a drunk couple reminded him of your surroundings. He stroked his thumb along your cheek as he eased off, and finally, reluctantly, pulled away. Your cheeks were all flushed, burning with hot blood against his hand. Your eyes stayed closed a moment longer. It was as if you had to find your way back into your body after the kiss. When they fluttered open, your eyes found his immediately, pupils dilated. He had to force himself not to kiss you again.

He grinned and pulled away, leaving a somewhat respectable distance between you. He fed you the other half of the cake, and licked his fingers with a devious smile.

“Absolutely delicious.”

---

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