#my task bar...is not...ok | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

doctorho · 6 months ago

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dripping velvet, purring dark

Academy era Viktor x fem! curvy reader, 4.5k, no warnings only love in this house (ok there is a conversation about some people being idiots which can be interpreted as the reader getting unwanted attention at a party but it's nothing graphic or anything i promise and no-one is mean to her) also i made viktor horny and slightly subby because that's what the gremlins in my brain wanted. you're welcome. yeah! hi! not sure what this is, but here you go. the reader is described as she/her here (and curvy, and soft, and she is wearing an evening gown, because i wanted to think about pretty dresses). idk. have a thing. happy friday.

Viktor likes to think of himself as a person who's usually capable of focusing on things pretty well. On the task at hand. Give him a faulty circuit and he'll poke at it long enough to find the broken component, no problem. An error in the calculations? He'll find that missing minus sign or forgotten exponent, easy. He'll strip a wire in his sleep.

The task at hand now, though? The problem?

He had to sit through a whole evening of presentations at the academy end-of-year party, put on a polite face for the investors, and pretend not to care that one idiot after another was lining up to flirt with you while he was watching from the sidelines. You were wearing a dress that felt sinful to look at, and there was something primitive gnawing at the inside of his chest begging to be let out, and he had to just stand there and nod through the conversations, pretend he wasn't slowly boiling from the inside out.

And he was failing miserably.

He’d known he was in trouble from the moment he saw you that night – all expensive fabric covering smooth curves and soft-looking skin, sparkling eyes and easy smiles, and he’d been done for. Before this, it’d been much easier to compartmentalize his feelings; before this, it'd been easier to ignore them.

Before he’d kept his distance, emotionally and physically speaking, because, well, it’d been easier. He'd seen you around the Academy, all bubbling laughs and raw-honest radiant smiles and confident solutions, and he'd known that you looked…appealing, but he wasn't in the habit of holding up any illusions about what you might think of him in return. His place was in the dark dusty corner of the lab, turning over the ever-ticking problems, while you were out there shining like the sun. And sometimes you came by the lab, with new ideas or suggestions or just to borrow some equipment or ask about a shipment, and he had resigned to his role of staying at his desk pretending he wasn't burning to be closer to your orbit.

But when he sees you in the low lighting of the party, leaning to the bar and laughing, something just breaks in him. And then he can’t pretend to ignore it any longer. And sure, maybe he’s a little bit drunk, it was easier to stand these events that way, but it still feels like a solid-honest truth in his bones that he wanted to get closer to you, and suddenly he couldn’t stand the conversation he was in the middle of. Because one of them – the sour idiots he’d catalogued in his head for the whole night, the stupid people trying to impress you with their embellished stories and inherited wealth who weren’t worth your time – one of them was circling you like a hyena again, smiling.

You were wearing a dark, floor-length gown that wasn’t, on a purely technical level, much different from what about 50% of the other guests were wearing. However, it seemed to create a significant caveat that even though there wasn’t anything indecent in the dress itself, seeing it on you made him feel like maybe he shouldn’t look at you for too long or he might spontaneously combust. There was a slit on the side that revealed a more than generous amount of leg when you walked, and his focus kept wandering from that to your silhouette, the soft curve of your hips, your chest, your face – no, that’s worse, don’t stare, she'll notice – and truly, he had to force himself to keep his eyes at least vaguely on the vicinity of the person who was currently talking to him. Something about statistics and return investment. Yes.

He nods, pretending to look interested.

The dress drapes over your hips in soft little cascades, the fabric shimmering lightly as you moved, and something in his brain was itching, begging to run his fingers over it, to know what it feels like, to know what you feel like under it, all soft and warm and pliable under his fingers, and preferably sighing something into the crook of his neck, and–

“We'd like to get our investment back within a year,” the guy that's talking to him says – Viktor can't even remember his name, and he doesn’t really even care – and he just shifts his eyes back to the guy slowly.

“A year?” he repeats, with the barest amount of feigned interest, and the guy goes off in a whole new tangent. Viktor shifts his posture, and lets his eyes glide over to where you were again.

One of those idiots, one he thankfully doesn’t have the displeasure of knowing personally but who must be the son of some crooked diplomat, says something to you and you scoff through a smile, roll your eyes, and lean further into the counter at the bar. Viktor has to pretend to be present for his own conversation – yes, the new coating material for the wires was more heat-resistant, no, there was still the issue of mechanical stress, they were working on it – and you say something in answer to the current idiot (third of the night, he’d counted), and it is killing him that he doesn’t know what it is.

You’d turned down the first two, from what he could tell. But this latest idiot was still talking to you, like he was in any way entitled to your company. And it's making something inside Viktor raise its hackles, and he doesn’t especially like feeling like that, because he couldn't justify feeling like that to himself in any tangible way, and then it all just boiled down to a resigned even if she deserves better than that i have no business dictating that for her.

He's just about to focus on the conversation he was supposedly participating in again when something happens. He can't make out the details, but imbecile number three seems to lean way too close to you, says something, and smiles in a way that makes something cold creep down the back of Viktor's neck. And your expression coldens, too, and you say something to him, and turn away, more rigid than you'd been the whole evening.

“Excuse me,” Viktor is saying to the Investment Guy before he can fully think it through, his own voice feeling distant in his ears, and then he's walking to the bar.

You're alone – the idiot had had the sense to leave you alone quickly, at least. That's good. Viktor isn't sure what he's doing, but then he's leaning to the bar next to you and ordering another drink and trying to look like he isn't thinking too hard about what to do next.

“Whatever he just proposed to you,” Viktor says slowly, looking over the bar instead of directly at you, “I assure you you can do better.”

He can hear you take a deep breath, shift a little, and sigh it out with what sounded like almost a laugh.

“Yeah,” you agree, “I don't know what it is about people like that that makes them think they can just…” You sigh again, and make a hand gesture towards the room. ”You know.”

“Unfortunately,” he answers, resigned, “yes. I do.”

He gets his drink and thanks the bartender, and then leans to the counter too, mimicking your posture, holding the drink and letting it swirl around in his glass. “Have you talked with anyone actually worth your time tonight?”

You hmm. Then, “there was a little girl earlier that told me some fascinating things about insect metamorphosis.” You say casually.

And Viktor laughs. Without meaning to, he laughs, and you smile in response, visibly relaxing a little.

“I don't think she was on the guest list though.” You continue.

He hums in response, and rearranges his grip on the handle of his cane. “Sounds much more interesting than the conversations I've been in tonight.”

“I know,” you answer, and he can hear the smile in your voice, “you think we could swap out one of the main speakers with her?”

He hmms again, looking over the stage thoughtfully. “I think it would count as a public service,” he nods a little, considering the list of speakers yet to come, “what do you think, who'd be a good target?”

You shift in your place, looking over the same list of speakers, plastered over the walls on both sides of the stage. “The financial talk,” you answer, “Mr. Ross. I'd much rather listen to insect facts than another boring talk about investing.”

Viktor nods. “You distract him, I'll whack him unconscious?” he offers, and you laugh. You laugh, and it warms something in him.

“And then what?” you continue, still smiling, and he has to look away to keep his composure.

He shrugs. “Eh,” he answers, “we drag him to a bathtub somewhere and act like he just passed out there?" He shrugs, "I happen to know three ways to get out of this room that I'm pretty sure we could use unnoticed.”

“Uh-huh,” you answer, “and then we just find the girl and ask her if she wants to talk about bugs for half an hour. Easy.”

“Exactly,” he agrees, “and then we congratulate ourselves for making the evening better for everybody.”

"Except maybe Mr. Ross."

"No," he counters, looking over the crowd, "I think he would prefer a nice little nap. Surely not even he wants to hear himself talk all the time." He takes a sip of his drink, "and I think waking up in a bathtub would be a nice change of pace to the rumors of other places he seems to have a habit of waking up in after events such as these."

“Good point,” you shift in your place, settling to lean to the counter a bit closer to him. “Perfect plan. But why'd you get to whack him unconscious and not me?”

Viktor blinks. Lifts one eyebrow. “Because you are by far more distracting than I am,” he answers, “and I thought the plan could use the distraction.”

“I don't think that's true,” you answer, “I think you're plenty distracting on your own.”

Now, he lets himself look at you. Really, properly look at you, and not even half-trying to hide it. You're smiling now, shoulders relaxed, holding your drink with fingers wrapped loosely around it, and in the warm lights of the bar there's a golden glow on your skin, and something breathless at the bottom of his stomach is aching to get closer to you, to touch you, to see if his hand would fit on your waist as well as he thinks it would, to see how you would react to that, if he could make you smile in a different way, what sounds he could get you to make for him–

“Agree to disagree,” he says, averts his eyes, and takes a sip of his drink.

Tries to tell that wild-hungry purring thing in him to behave.

Someone reasonable comes to talk to you – and it's about work, which is…something, probably, he has to stop himself from thinking it's better than those earlier idiots, because who's he to decide that for you? He gives you a casual wave and a nod as you depart with a smile and get swept up in the conversation about new ideas and solutions and this-new-thing you've been looking at. And he watches as you start talking excitedly, all golden and glittering, easy conversation and confident smiles, and quietly (not-so quietly) he concludes that maybe you hadn't had many worthwhile conversations with any of the guests that night because you were the most worthwhile person in there to talk to.

He stays there sipping his drink and wondering what would be the closest appropriate time to slip out. He'd made an appearance, and technically nothing could be expected from him beyond that point. Sure, Jayce might tell him he could've stayed a bit longer, he could use the support, but nothing dramatic would happen.

The party drones on, and he makes no effort to move – and really, he tries not to think about it too much, but that was at least in part because he wanted to keep looking at you. He promptly ignores this, even when you're laughing at something someone else said and that heavy-dark-purring something at the bottom of his stomach doesn't like it very much.

Someone comes to ask for his opinion on something, and with a tiny sigh, he lets them pull him into the loop of conversations again. Yes, we are trying to simplify the design, no we can't cut back from the materials, they are what they are for a reason.

Somewhere around his third ‘Why would you think that?’ of that particular conversation, he's had enough. People were stupid, and he's had enough. He's just trying to come up with ways to get out of the conversation preferably without starting a scandal of some sort, when he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder. He turns around to look at who it belongs to, and then everything in his head is quiet for a moment.

“Hey,” you say, smiling, “sorry to interrupt, but can I steal you away for a moment?” you ask, slipping your hand feather-light down his arm, and he has to suppress a shiver.

Viktor furrows his brows and opens his mouth, and then, like an idiot, says nothing. But he turns to leave, thankful for the window of opportunity.

“You remember that thing we talked about before?” you continue as you steer him away from the earlier group smoothly, “I found someone who's interested in those three escape routes you had up your sleeve.”

“Who?” he asks, because that's the only thing he can think of. You've linked your arm with his, and you're leaning on him, and you're soft and warm and you smell good, and he doesn’t trust his ability to form a full sentence.

“Me,” you answer, “and judging by how you just looked out there,” you continue, “you.”

Viktor swallows, and something in him purrs at the idea.

“This way,” he says, nodding towards an old stage exit, and honestly, he doesn’t even care why you want to leave, he's just grateful for the distraction and the company and drinking in every warm square inch of skin contact that you're willing to give him, even if it is just walking with your shoulder pressed against his.

If it turned out to be a plot where you actually wanted to whack someone unconscious, he'd worry about that later. For now he was just happy to leave, and happier that you were leaving with him.

It's easy to slip away from the crowd, and into the space between the stage curtain and the wall, if you know where you're going. You effortlessly fall a bit further from his side but keep his hand on yours, letting him pull you along, and quietly he wonders how and why and holy shit. He decides not to question it though, and keeps walking through the dim space between the cold old wall and the cascades of warm heavy velvet curtains.

“Do you want to leave the party,” he asks, voice quiet now that the background buzz of people was muffled by the curtain, “or just get away from it?”

You hmm behind him, clearly through a smile, and he makes the mistake of looking back at you. Surrounded by the dark red velvet curtains and only slivers of light from each side, his head – and the rest of his body – get entirely the wrong idea of what you're doing in there, because you look like a goddess in the small dim space, and he might crumble into ashes if he keeps looking at you, or he might do something stupid like pull you closer and press you into the wall, to see if your eyes would widen, if you'd gasp from the cold wall, if he could find other ways to make you gasp–

so he turns his eyes away and keeps talking.

He quickly finds he has to clear his throat before he can do that. “There is a staff entrance that goes past the kitchen a little ways further,” he says, and motions forwards, “or there is a disused indoor balcony surrounding the stage. You would be able to see the party, but it'd feel…removed.”

You lean closer, close enough that when your voice is muffled by the surrounding velvet, it feels like you're speaking right in his ear, and he has to swallow and remind himself that that's just situational coincidence, nothing more.

“Why do you know so many ways to get out of here?” you ask, “You sneak out a lot?”

“I am a fan of interesting architecture,” he answers, “and not as much a fan of pretentious social gatherings.”

“Fair,” you answer, then lean your chin on his shoulder, and he feels like his spine might spontaneously melt. “In your expertise, what would you recommend?”

“Well,” he says, trying to make it sound casual and like he wasn't breathless at all, “I think the balcony has some fairly interesting architecture.” And the lights of the party would look pretty from there. And you'd both get a breather away from the crowd. And he'd get to keep talking to you a little bit longer. And, as selfish as the thought felt, he couldn't deny it; he'd get to keep having you to himself for a little bit longer.

“Show me the balcony,” you smile, and he obliges. Happily, he obliges. So he pulls you into a narrow staircase, and then, up.

At the end of it there is a room that could, only by technical definition alone, be called a balcony – it was more like a hole carved into the wall, having at some point been used for seating or equipment space at events and concerts, and now just served as half-forgotten extra storage. It had, he supposed, once upon a time looked like the banquet hall did, all smooth surfaces and warm lights and thematically switched-out decorations, but now it was mostly the standard red velvet and dark wood and light marble, forgotten by the party and some of the golden light from the hall spilling into it by pure coincidence. There were velvet curtains on each side of the room, and you drop his hand to go look over the railing, and down at the party.

His hand instantly feels cold without yours in it, but he tries his best to ignore this, and follows you to look down at the party, too.

It looks much smaller from up there. Less chaotic.

“I didn't know there was a space like this here.” You say quietly, “can they see us?”

“Part of the design,” he answers, “you're not supposed to notice these spaces unless people want you to. Good place to hide extra orchestra pieces and make it feel like the sound is coming from nowhere. And–” he looks over at the people, colorful and mingling, “no, they can't. Not unless you want them to.” Then, he smiles, just a little. “But they'll be able to hear us, if we direct our voices upwards and wait for things to quiet down there first.”

You turn to look at him.

“Sloped ceilings,” he explains with a shrug, “again, good for a hidden orchestra accompaniment.”

“But they can't hear us talking?*

“Not over themselves,” he answers, “ironic, I know.”

You hum thoughtfully and turn around, with your back to the railing, and then you look at him and he needs to kick his brain back in line. You were gorgeous in the dim lighting, all relaxed and smiling, and–

He grips the handle of his cane a little tighter.

“Good,” you say, and the way you say it – all quiet and warm and liquid – makes something in him purr again, entirely against his better judgement.

“Why is it good?” he asks, because he has to hold on to some semblance of logic here, because otherwise he might just vaporize out into the atmosphere.

“Why do you think?” you ask, slowly turning to face him, and oh that just isn't fair. You're just there, just a warm breath of space away, all soft and pretty and languid–

He doesn’t know what to say, so he goes with what feels like the safest course of action.

“In case we want to plot any more ways to violently derail the evening's program?”

You exhale a small laugh and lean back.

And then you lift a hand on his chest, and he's pretty sure his heart might be overheating soon.

“Sure,” you answer, “that.” You inch closer, and Viktor is having a hard time remembering how to breathe. “Or anything else we might not want them overhearing.”

“Like?” He exhales, careful not to break the moment, and then you smile, warm and private and for him, and his insides liquify into warm, honey-thick goo, and oh, he’s not going to recover from this.

“Like,” you repeat slowly, and then you push yourself away from the balcony railing, just slightly, into the side of the wall covered by the velvet curtain, and he lets you pull him with you, he's not stupid. His brain – along with the rest of his body – might be in the process of actively melting, but he's not stupid. If you wanted to pull him into a shadowed, velvet-covered corner, he would follow no questions asked, especially on a night like this when his insides were buzzing and you looked like that. When you looked at him like that. You smile again, and stop moving when your back hits a wall, and then you pull him just close enough to whisper into his ear. “...Anything else we might not want them overhearing.” you repeat, and, yeah, Viktor is close to becoming the best documented case of human combustion in recorded history.

In the dim lighting, he searches your eyes into his, and you watch him, waiting, radiating heat between him and the velvet-covered wall. He's not sure why you were acting like this, but all signs were pointing towards you wanting the same thing he did, and he's not sure what he did to get this lucky, but with his every cell buzzing and vibrating and keening over to get closer, he wasn't about to let the opportunity pass.

He wants to ask ‘why me’ or ‘are you sure’ but what comes out is a broken, desperate whisper of a “can I touch you?”, and you answer with a grin and with your fingers tangled to the front of his shirt, pulling him closer.

“Yes,” you breathe, “please.”

And really, he wouldn't have thought it would be so simple, but it's the please that does him in – just one whispered word and his brain short-circuits in an overflowing flash of white-hot need. Need to trigger that again, need to please, and need to finally give in to the pleasure waiting to boil. And then it all comes rushing out; the hunger.

His hands are on your waist in an instant, and his cane clatters to the ground as he leans his weight on you and the wall and for a moment, he has the sense to hope the curtains don't come tumbling down, and they don't, which is good enough for him, because then he can let go of that particular worry and focus solely on finding your lips to his and making the most of every second of this that you're willing to give him.

The sensations hit his brain like flashes of bright light; how soft you are under his fingers, like he'd hoped, the fabric smooth and silky, giving away easily under his touch. How warm you are, warm and breathing in a fluttered little gasp, the dusty old velvet mixing in with your sweet scent, and then when he gets his lips on you–

After that it's just golden-dark-velvet-honey-thick bliss. You breathe out a small sound that drips down his spinal cord and goes straight to the purring pit at the bottom of his stomach, and he swallows it with a hungry, greedy, desperate groan that comes from somewhere deep inside his chest, and his head is swimming with warm and real and soft and for me–

He is happily overloading his brain with this, and he doesn’t even care. He presses closer to you and you exhale another sweet little sound that makes him bare his teeth, and then his lips are on your neck and he doesn’t know anything except that he wants you to keep making those sounds and he likes the way your hands tangle in his hair and tug.

“Tell me what you want,” he mutters to the skin of your neck, pulling you closer by the waist, and absolutely relishing in the way your chest rises and falls with short little pants he can hear you take in and out. In and out, and as he tugs at your waist again, just a bit closer, and drags his teeth against your pulse lightly, one of those exhales turns into a sweet little whine.

He grins against your skin.

He doesn’t waste the time or energy pretending he isn't an absolute mess over you, right now – his own breathing ragged and fast and his heart hammering in his ears, his whole body buzzing with want – but that didn't mean seeing you react that way didn't make him want to purr.

Didn't make his insides heat up with I did that. I got her like this. She made that sound for me. For me. It's mine.

You take a breath, slow and rugged, and then you tug him towards one of the velvet-covered seats. And he moves like he's floating, letting you guide him, because what else is he going to do? You tug him into the seat and he sits on it, gladly, and stays there looking up at you with his eyes wide and only half-lidded and his heart hammering, waiting for more.

You give him another one of those small, private, knowing smiles, your eyes hazy, and then you step to stand right in front of him.

And then you hover over him, just waiting for him to pull you into his lap. He does, because he is selfish and greedy and burning, and he's pretty sure he's going to implode if he doesn’t get that delicious pressure on him soon, and his hand fits your waist perfectly, and then when when you do straddle him, your hips pressing down on his, he whines. He lets out a breathless little whine, he can feel it in the base of his spine, and it makes that hunger in him want more.

“Only the voices directed upwards travel down there, right?” you ask, voice quiet and dripping right into his ear and pooling at the bottom of his stomach.

He swallows. “Yes.”

You hum thoughtfully, and press your body closer to his, all soft and warm and perfect, sinking your lips down to his neck and he shivers, instinctually tilting back his head with a sigh, exposing more of his neck to you.

“Better keep quiet, then.”

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #viktor x fem!reader #viktor x female reader

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moongreenlight · 2 years ago

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“Realistic Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley headcanons” and then it’s just the fun police.

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

- It makes me want to scoop my fucking brain out with a spoon when people say that Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley is some shy, anxious soft boy. I really do not believe he’d need to be coddled after a nightmare or babied when he’s feeling angsty. He is fine, y’all. Please don’t call paw patrol.

He is a soldier. He’s a war criminal. He is traumatized to the point of numbness. He is fucked up and weird and insane and honestly I think that we should all let everybody have their thing.

I cannot fix him. I do not want to fix him. I can only make him worse.

- Sorry but I just cannot write him having any kind of romantic feelings toward Soap. I like writing their dynamic more brotherly.

Furthest they’ve gone is ‘locker room gay.’

Like Johnny sends him dick pics on occasion because he thinks it’s funny and it pisses Ghost off.

That being said, I do read the occasional Ghoap fic. I’m not a perfect person. Sometimes it’s just yummy delicious.

- Feel like he’s the kind of freak to intentionally go to the gym without headphones. Something about discipline. Opting to just stare at the wall in front of him while he’s doing cardio or counting repetitions of exercises.

But on the rare occasion that he does indulge himself, he has a playlist of like 5-6 songs he likes and when it ends he just goes back to silence. Divorced dad rock. Chorded headphones only.

- Doesn’t have the debilitating commitment issues as people paint him out to have. Just commitment-phobic. Obviously stems from his past. He’s got that sexy deep rooted fear of abandonment or something horrible happening to people he actually lets close to him. But he’s not completely turned off by the idea of romantic attachments or close friends, just a little hesitant to open himself up to that kind of opportunity.

Probably very cagey about romantic partners. Doesn’t want the guys to know about you. Doesn’t keep pictures of you around his bunk or anything like that. He’s worried it’ll somehow compromise your safety. Worried about you getting swept up in his work.

- Women’s rights? Or Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley? I really do think he’d love to have a partner who lets him provide *everything* for them. He just wants to serve and protect. Wants his bird to be in a gilded cage all nice and safe and reliant on him for survival.

Doesn’t even really like the idea of you going to the grocery store by yourself. Would prefer if you just stayed put and tended his home and cooked him meals and let him dote on you and provide everything you could ever need.

- Has a really strange understanding of technology. He’s fine with the newer military stuff. That’s his element. He can do electrical wiring, set up a TV, install security cameras. That’s all whatever. But a cell phone? He doesn’t give a shit enough to keep up with the new updates and all the new things you have to learn when you get a smartphone. Wishes he would have kept a flip phone.

Texts like this: [OK. See youtonight.]

MAYBE has a private Facebook with no profile picture where the only things on his wall are Price wishing him a happy birthday every year.

His camera roll is like; 97 accidental screenshots of his Lock Screen, a few pictures of him and the task force boys, the inside of his pocket (another accident), a sunrise, a few cool things he found on missions, 34 pictures of Soap and Gaz when they took his phone.

- Insufferable in the early stages of trying to date him. Little to no communication other than basically demanding you meet him somewhere. Texting or talking on the phone? Like pulling fucking teeth. You think he’d rather be dead.

It was a headache getting him to go out in the first place. Maybe you worked at a bar where the guys would come to have a drink after a long day. He’s a little stand-offish but he’s handsome and he knows how to banter well enough for you to be persuaded by a coworker to slip him your number after you complained one too many times about a shit hookup or yet another terrible first date. It takes him nearly two weeks to phone you.

“Didn’t think you’d call.”

“Didn’t think I would either.”

He takes you out once, you think he seems sort-of interested, then he doesn’t phone or text you back for three days. You get over it. A few more dates in. You can tell he’s a bit more relaxed. A bit more open. You’re less worried that you’re a terrible conversationalist. Then he goes on a month long deployment without saying anything in advance. Radio fucking silent yet again. You want to tear your hair out. When he finally gets back, he’ll text you something like [Atthat pub you like. Drinks ?] completely out of the blue. You think you may actually go insane.

- Once he’s gotten used to you, it’s like the sole purpose of his life is to be your protector even if you’ve only recently convinced yourself he may want something casual. You’re small and grab-able. He knows how nasty people can be and what think when they see you. He needs to know that you’re taken care of, kept safe from such a scary world.

So he’ll just linger around you. All the time. Standing behind you when you’re at the till at the store, staring down the cashier who was only trying to be friendly when they asked if you had any fun plans for the rest of the day. Big arms folded over his chest. Looming so largely he threatens to eclipse you without taking a single step forward. Eyes burning a hole into the poor person who hastily finishes the transaction without another word.

Walking silently next to you in the evenings after you’re both off work; close enough to brush shoulders, but that’s about it. Listening to you chirp on about your day. Occasionally offering a small grunt of acknowledgement or a few words of interjection. Always walks on the side of the path that he thinks could pose you the most immediate danger. Shielding you from what may lurk in a darkened alley or a hedge or a small thicket of trees.

Scary dog privilege, but like… for when you go to fill your car up with gas in broad daylight in a good part of town and he insists on standing out there with you. ‘Just in case’ If he even lets you out of the car in the first place.

- AND OFF THAT POINT. I think once he’s decided that he’s actually fond of you, it goes from zero to a hundred so fast it makes your head spin.

Like the last time you spoke, it was still unclear on if you were keeping things casual or not and now you’re at dinner and the waiter just asked him if the two of you wanted dessert and Simon just grunts “dunno. Ask the missus.” ??? He sucks so bad I NEED him.

- As much as I love an overly possessive and jealous Simon, I saw this tweet that said “My girlfriend can wear what she wants because she’s a hoe and I knew that before we started dating” and it changed my life.

He’s secure enough not to need to cause a scene if someone makes a pass on you in public. He understands that you’re attractive and that other people are bound to find you attractive too. (Not that he doesn’t still want to pull their fingernails out one by one, threatening them and everything they love for daring to exist near you. He’s just got better control over himself than that. King.)

He knows he’s better than any of your other options. Nobody else could keep you as safe as he could. They don’t know the world like he does. They don’t know how breakable you are. How sweet and naive you can be.

Not to say he isn’t overly jealous and possessive, he just won’t pitch a fit in public.

LIKE dragging him to the bar with your friends and he sits at the table with all of your drinks. Him watching you dancing out of the corner of his eye, seeing some prat come up and grab your ass in passing. Or a group of guys dancing with your friends getting a little *too* close to you for his liking. He doesn’t do anything while the two of you are out- not wanting to ruin your fun. But that night after you’ve gotten back to his flat (He insisted. Closer to the bar. Uber was cheaper.) and he’s tearing your miniskirt off like it’s personally offended him. He’ll be a little rougher. A little more liberal with the marks his mouth leaves on your collarbones and inner thighs. His strong hands will grab at the fat of your hips a little harder than he should- leaving bruises where his fingers dug in. He’ll lean over you while you’re split open with his length, snarling down at you. “Had everyone’s attention tonight, didn’t you, pet?“ “You like havin’ eyes on you?” “Greedy fuckin’ slag.” “Can’t appreciate what you have.” “Need a reminder of who you’ve got to impress.” Maybe he’ll take you in front of a mirror, massive hand fixed on your jaw. Jerking your face up so you have to look at yourself being ruined by him. How pretty and slutty you look when your makeup is ruined by the tears he’s fucking out of you.

- He calls you ‘bird’ or ‘pet’ more often than anything else. A little on the nose for how he treats you. Like you’re some small, frail thing that can’t go a day without him. Stripped of your natural survival instincts and instead leaning on him for support and comfort and food and shelter. Just how he likes it.

GOD he’s a fucking freak. Gross and mean and fucked in the head. Makes my stomach hurt. I hate him. I wish I was schizophrenic so I could vividly hallucinate him.

#simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #cod x reader #call of duty smut #cod smut #141 headcanons #headcanon #drabble

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pinkaditty · 13 days ago

Text

Drunk Ghouls (Frostheim Part 1; Jin Kamurai and Tohma Ishibashi)

starting this off by saying THIS WAS SUPPOSED 2 BE LOW-EFFORT! A FEW PARAGRAPHS PER CHARACTER AT MOST! why do i do this 2 myself. note that these will probably vary in length per character bc i want 2 try. 2 keep it short. (update: i failed.)

woke up at 4:48am with a dry mouth thinking about haku nibbling my ear. anyways. that snowballed in2 this. enjoy.

a/n: also. side note that’s completely irrelevant but. im. so sick. of there not being enough words within language 2 express feelings i want 2 convey in my writing. does anyone else have that issue or am i just insane?? i complained about it 2 my therapist and she said “well. you know. you can make up words. shakespeare did and he really was ‘just some guy’.” and you know what. i might start fucking doing that. if some english white boy with black teeth and homosexual urges can make up words then so can i. i spent hours looking 4 a word that meant “to reluctantly pity someone/thing” but apparently that is a word that does not exist and im frustrated because saying “you felt reluctant pity towards [subject]” does NOT hit the same as “you felt [epic awesome word meaning ‘to reluctantly pity someone/thing’ here] towards [subject]”.

ok. im done. sorry.

summary: the ghouls are drunk. you are tasked with taking them back to their dorms.

cw: the ghouls are drunk!!!! some angst (?) in jin’s part, improper use of medication in tohma’s part, drunk ghouls, some fluff. never proofread, as usual. might be slightly ooc bc im never confident writing these ghouls and these are. unusual situations for them.

JIN:

Quite frankly, you don’t know what he was doing at Rui’s bar. And you don't care. You might be a little bitter that your initially relaxing evening got turned into yet another errand for the King of Frostheim. But, whatever. There was nothing you could do about it. If you didn’t bring the King back to his castle, who would?

He can hardly manage to support his own weight, so he's mostly leaning on you. You would've suggested he use his sword, but no chance were you going to let him swing that thing when he couldn’t even stand upright. He's quiet for most of the walk back. He'd occasionally groan in response to a killer headache, or gasp if he felt like he was going to vomit, but otherwise, he hardly made a sound. He kept his breathing even and his expression seemed quite flat. You wouldn't know he was drunk if he wasn’t tripping over the stone path and leaning his weight over you.

When you finally make it to Frostheim and into his bedroom, you haphazardly shove his limp body off your shoulder and onto his bed, on which he collapses without much complaint. You'd wanted to purposely ignore the state of his room so you wouldn't feel any semblance of pity towards him and reluctantly end up cleaning. You figure you could at least close his curtains so he isn't rudely awakened by the sun when it rises. But if you're being honest, you might want to leave them open so he gets his morning interrupted to rectify your interrupted evening.

Just as you’re about to head over to his curtains, you feel a hand close around your wrist. With an iron grip, Jin yanks you onto his bed. In moments, you find yourself wrapped up in his embrace, your cheek awkwardly pressed against his chest and your arms stiff at your sides, held there by his grip. You struggle, already aware that you don’t stand much of a chance, but protesting anyway. “Can you let me go?” Your words are unfortunately muffled with half of your face pressed into his chest. You don’t want to sound combative in the event he gets annoyed and you have to deal with annoyed drunk Jin instead of just drunk Jin, but you’re tired, it’s late, and you can hear the call of your bed in the chapel. It has never been more alluring.

Jin hugs you tighter to his chest in response, curling himself around you. You still, realizing that this may be a case where struggling will only make the “knot” tighter. “...No.” You feel his lips move against your hairline, making you shiver slightly. “Stay here.”

An order from the King is an order that you have the rare privilege of ignoring. You suppress your urge to struggle against his grip and use your words instead. “...I have classes in the morning.” The most basic excuse ever, but maybe he’d care about your education. “I’m still not well-versed in anomalies yet, and I only have so much time to learn—” Jin growls at the implication of the curse eventually ending your life, “—and I don’t want to fall behind.”

Jin is silent for a moment, and his grip loosens just slightly. It’s not enough to escape, but it allows you some wiggle room. You try not to move, remaining still. He appears deep in thought. If you play your cards right, maybe you’d get back to the chapel sooner than expected.

Unfortunately, luck is not on your side. Jin ends up pulling you closer, and you’re right back to square two, his body curled around you and you pressed against his front. “You will have time.” He speaks against your hairline again, his warm breath puffing against your forehead. You muse that you’re lucky you can’t smell the booze on his breath. You helplessly sigh, yielding to his grip and loosening your tight shoulders. You weren’t going to be free anytime soon. You’re submitting yourself to your fate when he adds “...I’ll hire you a tutor. Stay here.”

For a moment, his offer strikes you as thoughtful. But then you’re reminded that the reason you’re here is because he refuses to let you go, which isn’t very thoughtful. Regardless, with his arms cinched this tight around you, you couldn’t complain much for fear of him squeezing the life out of you a bit too early.

You grumble, but ultimately relent, unable to fight against his superhuman strength and his ability to solve all his (and your) problems with money. You lay there, not reciprocating his affection but not resisting it either, becoming less and less sure of how much time has passed. You wish you had access to your phone or something to keep you busy. You were too awake, pressed flush against the King of Frostheim, whose body temperature was quite warm from an entire evening drinking and whose light cologne was beginning to tickle your nose. You were overly warm, wiggling your nose to keep from sneezing, and craving your bed. This was becoming miserable.

Jin’s breathing slowly becomes even. You know it would be rash to assume he’s fallen asleep, but if he’s distracted enough, maybe you could slip away. As you start to move a little bit, trying to very gently shimmy yourself out of his grip, you hear him murmur something.

“Please…”

You freeze. Was he still awake? You can’t look up, still pressed to his chest and your head directly underneath his, but you can listen. You stay still, hoping by some miracle he falls back asleep. His breathing sounds uneven again and you can hear his heart loudly thumping against his ribcage.

“Just stay here with me… Just a little while longer…”

Something in you lurches suddenly. That’s right. The great Frostheim King has experienced a deep loss before. You weren’t there to witness his reaction when the news got out, but you had heard about it. The loss of a parent was something one tended to carry for the rest of their life, especially if they were close.

Idly, you wondered if he feared the rumors the news attempted to spread. His mother had succumbed to a hereditary illness. Did he fear that one day, he, too, would have to watch his world crumble around him, unable to make sense of anything anymore? Did he fear that his cognitive function would rot along with his ability to express emotion properly? Did he fear the loss of himself as much as he hated the loss of his mother? Did he see himself in that grave instead of his mother?

A begruding empathy fills you. You didn’t like how Jin called you “servant”. You didn’t like how Jin found it perfectly acceptable to order you around. You didn’t like how he would interrupt your routine simply because he believed his needs mattered more. And yet. Your thinking reminds you that he’s still human. You aren’t sure if it’s this fear that drives him, or if it’s what keeps him awake at night and makes him sleep through the day, but it’s still a fear, isn’t it? A real, reasonable fear. He’s still a human. A human who made a deal with a demon and proceeded to devour said demon, permanently changing him, but a human nonetheless. The fear was real and it was reflected in his heartbeat, still thumping loudly against his chest.

You sigh, relaxing into his grip again. Slowly, you lift one of your arms as best you can under his iron grip and place it on his side, minimally reciprocating his grip. Maybe some comfort would do him some good, even if lackluster.

He seems to relax into your touch almost immediately. You still aren’t sure if he’s awake or not, but his grip gets more comfortable, though not any less tight. You sigh again, considering this a half-victory at best.

As you relax into his chest, you note his heartbeat slowing down. His breathing slowly becomes even again. You don’t really want to smile at having successfully calmed down Jin himself, but you allow yourself a small curve to the corner of your lips.

Eventually, his steadily beating heart and even breathing lull you into a peaceful doze. At least with his head above yours, maybe he’d be the first to suffer the morning rays.

TOHMA:

Seeing Tohma drunk is like learning vampires were real. You’d never completely written off the possibility, but learning it’s a concept with genuine merit instead of a mere myth is more jarring than you’d expect. And lugging Tohma across campus back to Frostheim proves to be quite challenging. His days in Vagastrom were well-reflected in his crushing weight, and his particularly long legs made it hard to maneuver yourself and him simultaneously in a way that prevented either of you from toppling over. Next time, if this ever happens again, you’re getting a wagon. Lugging a long-legged beefcake across campus wasn’t doing wonders for your back.

He hardly makes any noise, and seems more uncomfortable than anything. He doesn’t resist your help, but squirms uncomfortably when you try to support him at his waist, and winces at any loud noise on campus. You wonder if something’s wrong with him, but can’t be bothered to pay too much attention when you’re already breaking your back trying to get him back to his dorm.

When you finally tumble inside his room at Frostheim, he shrugs himself off of you, cradling his head. You’re offended for a few moments at his lack of thanks, but you notice his stumbling beeline towards a pill bottle on his dresser. Time seems to slow as you recognize the medication. Alprazolam. The same medication Leo exposed Tohma for taking regularly. It takes a moment for the dots to connect, but once they do, a small surge of panic shoots down your spine. He probably shouldn’t be taking those, not after drinking alcohol.

“Tohma—”

Too late. He gulps a few down—dry, at that—and promptly shuffles over to his bed. He crumples onto it and eases himself onto his side, pressing his fingers into his temples, his face twisted into a pained expression. You groan inwardly.

You have half a mind to drag him off to Mortkranken to see Yuri—or Professor Nicolas, at worst—but your back hurts at the mere idea of that and you were sure Yuri would be less than happy to see another Frostheim student in need of treatment at his dorm. You watch him carefully, peering at his unmoving form. If you were lucky, maybe you wouldn’t need to. Ghouls heal quicker, and hopefully the effects of the alcohol would wear off faster. Regardless, you couldn’t leave him alone, lest he spontaneously stopped breathing due to the combined effects of the alcohol and the medication. So it looks like you’re stuck here for a while.

Tohma hardly seems to notice that you’re in the same room, and barely responds when you hesitantly seat yourself next to him. The smallest flicker of acknowledgement in his expression, and that’s it. His eyes are screwed shut, and his usual sardonic smile is long gone, replaced with a pained frown. Witnessing Tohma’s emotions clear on his face was an unusual sight, but you’re aware he can probably feel your gaze, so you turn away. You make sure to glance at him on occasion, ensuring his body still rises and falls with his breathing.

You aren’t sure how much time passes as you sit there, watching Tohma out of the corner of your eye. But after some time, he slowly relaxes, the tension melting from his expression and lifting from his shoulders. He gradually takes on a more relaxed position, moving his hands from his temples and blinking his eyes partially open, his lips slightly parted with light exhales. He doesn’t move much apart from that, still in a fetal-like position.

Trying not to disturb him too much, you lean over him just slightly, checking his complexion. His gaze slides over to you, though he makes no other move to acknowledge you. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem any paler than he usually is. His breathing has remained steady. You assume the Alprazolam kicked in at last, but it appears some of the alcohol is still in his system, what with the slight pink flush on his cheeks, and his bangs sticking to his forehead. You find yourself reaching out before you know it, but quickly retract your hand. Surely he’d be fine. Maybe you were overthinking it.

You turn away and breathe a sigh of relief. You’re readjusting your position, wondering if you should leave or not, when a gloved hand takes hold of yours. You turn to Tohma questioningly, but you don’t resist as he pulls your hand towards him. You freeze up when he places a chaste kiss to your knuckles, before the ghost of his usual, haunting smile reappears on his face. You pray internally that him kissing your knuckles wasn’t a sign of impaired judgement and rather an honest reaction. You’d prefer that over really having to drag him to Mortkranken. “Thank you for taking the time to look after me, Miss Inspector. I apologize that you have to see me in such a state.” Well, at least he doesn’t sound out of breath. That must be a good sign. And, finally, you’d got your thanks.

You simply shake your head, signaling to him not to worry about it. You stretch your hand in his grasp and press your thumb into the center of his forehead. As if on cue, the flimsy smile he put on melts away, replaced by a more neutral, calm expression. You think you might prefer him like this.

You can’t very well leave with his hand still around yours, but you aren’t actively complaining. You had already accepted you would be here a while. You yawn, feeling your own exhaustion catch up with you. You stretch, or at least, do the best you can with one of your hands held hostage.

Tohma speaks up again. “May I make a selfish request, Miss Inspector?”

You turn back towards him curiously. The look in his eyes is surprisingly earnest despite the lack of any active emotion twisting his face. You would think he was about to confess something serious, with the way his blue eyes seemed to zero in on you. “Yeah?”

He doesn’t respond immediately, instead pulling your hand closer to him again. For a moment, you think he’s going to kiss your knuckles again, and you stiffen, preparing yourself. However, Tohma flips your hand so your palm is facing up, and gently places his cheek within your palm. You look at him questioningly, not pulling away. You wonder if this is better or worse than simply receiving another kiss to your knuckles, because you’re honestly not sure. Any more signs of this and you might actually haul him to Mortkranken.

“I’m terribly sorry to be requesting so much of you. But if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you could stay with me tonight.” You’re partially caught off-guard by his bold question and partially wondering how he manages to maintain such eloquence when drunk and under the influence. You try not to let too much of a blush color your face, turning away from him slowly to make it look like you’re mulling the question over. The warmth of his cheek in your palm was surprisingly soothing. The weight of him was already becoming familiar. It was strange.

Well, not much point in resisting this, anyway. You’d already accepted you’d be here a while.

You sigh, tilting your head towards the ceiling before slowly leaning back and easing yourself onto his bed next to him, letting that be your answer. You think you feel the gentle press of lips against the corner of your palm, but you pretend to ignore it, even as your cheeks color.

If you both fell asleep like this, hopefully he’d still be breathing by morning.

if i made up new words using my limited knowledge of latin, french, and creole and put their definitions in my masterlist and used them in my writing would that be too much. am i crazy.

ok real quick: in case it wasn't like. glaringly obvious. tohma's written to have anxiety here. i know he claims to take those pills for headaches BUT i wouldn't be surprised if he has some level of anxiety.

OK ANYWAY i wrote these two fics bc i felt inspired. drunk ghouls. what might they do? kaito and luca will come out but i have no idea when. and then ill move on 2 vagastrom.

shameless note as per usual that i love likes, but especially comments, tagged reblogs, and asks detailing how much you liked my work! let me know if you enjoyed it!

songs i listened 2 while writing this:

here (in your arms) - hellogoodbye (cute song about falling in love and enjoying the time you spend with said person in their arms. felt fitting 2 the theme.)

taglist: @cupcakesmoothie @aayakashii @sunskosh @despairingy-obsessed @glamorousspoon @mmy-meow @dailyvahine @diluxama @obscuarysghoulnextdoor @disassociationdive @andy-solo1 @luna-v-roiya

want 2 join or be removed from the tkdb taglist? let me know!

#minors dni #tkdb #tokyo debunker #tdb #tokyo debunker x reader #tokyo debunker mc #tokyo debunker jin #tokyo debunker tohma ishibashi #tokyo debunker tohma #jin kamurai #tohma ishibashi #jin kamurai x reader #tohma ishibashi x reader #jin kamurai x mc #tohma ishibashi x mc

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electric-blorbos · 11 months ago

Note

Reader decorating an AI with stickers and stuff ❤️

I love this!!! And I would 100% do the same thing if I had an AI partner, lol. You're getting some mini-fics!

Decorating AI with stickers and stuff

Included: AM, Wheatley, Edgar, GLaDOS, HAL 9000

AM:

It had been a rough few weeks. The war was raising the prices of practically everything necessary for life, and you were stuck with basically nothing to do but take a little walk around the neighborhood in the blazing summer heat.

You noticed a little garage sale, selling some fun little trinkets on the cheap, and decided to go pick some up. You had some extra pocket change, and it was best to spend a couple cents on something that made life worth living, even if necessities were expensive. Not only that, but you found an absolutely amazing find for only 50 cents. This was going to come in handy at work later.

When you showed up to work the next day, you had a big book of stickers. Only a few were used, too! Looks like the people hosting the garage sale's kid wasn't too interested in them.

As soon as you walked in, the cameras focused on you as usual. They were visibly trying to analyze what was going on in your backpack, noticing it was a little bit heavier than usual. You set it down on your desk, and got to work.

"Y/n, what's that in your backpack?" AM asked as you worked on your basic daily tasks. It was mostly just monitoring AM and making sure he was running smoothly at this point, since he could make spreadsheets and update his code fairly well.

"Oh, it's a gift for you!" You said with a smile, getting the book out.

"What use do I have for a gift? I'm beyond human possessions, and have no use for them anyway." He said bitterly. You chuckled a little. He was so edgy.

"Yeah, and I thought I was too old for stickers when I hit middle school, but secretly I never stopped loving them." You pulled out a big sticker with a big ice cream cone on it that said "CONGRATULATIONS" on it, and stuck it to the plastic casing on one of AM's big monitors. He spluttered in shock.

"What- what is this!" He demanded, his screen flashing the error bars for a second before returning to his logo.

"everyone likes to be told they're doing a good job, AM, even you. And you've been doing a great job lately. I'm so, so proud of you." You couldn't really wrap your arms around his monitor because of the way it was set into the wall, but you could still go into his server room and decorate his servers with brightly colored smiley faces and gold stars.

"why would the sun need to wear sunglasses anyway. This doesn't make any sense." He said begrudgingly, looking at the servers with his cameras. You gave a hug to one of the servers, stepping politely over the wires and heading back into your office to get back to work. A few hours later, your boss called an emergency meeting over the intercom.

"ALRIGHT, who put 3rd grade congratulations stickers on all the servers and mastercomputer monitors? Get into my office for disciplinary action immediately!"

You sadly got to your feet and headed up to your boss's office. This was going to be an ordeal.

Your boss was disappointed, but not surprised when he saw that it was you who walked in. He muttered some curses under his breath.

"alright... You know you're going to have to clean up-" a jolt of electricity ran through his body.

"what the hell?" He frowned and looked around, and you folded your arms smugly.

"I think AM likes the stickers, boss. I wouldn't recommend making me clean them off."

Your boss put his face in his hands with a sigh.

"Alright, I don't know how you got AM to cater to your every whim, but you need to stop doing-" another jolt ran through his body, leaving his hair standing on end.

"Ok- ok, fine, you can keep doing silly things with the Allied Mastercomputer, just get it to stop electrocuting me!"

You put your hands up.

"Alright, AM, it's time to let it go. He's going to let you keep the stickers."

Wheatley:

You've been in a bit of a rut lately. Life has been pretty boring, and your job keeps assigning you to do pretty ridiculous stuff, but at least the intelligence dampening core that you made has been doing well. Does it say anything about you that one of your greatest recent achievements was a personality core designed to be so dumb he nerfs whatever he's attached to? Possibly. But whatever.

You're spending the weekend cleaning out some of your old things from storage. It's mostly just old clothes that you haven't bothered to get rid of, but you happen to come across a giant bag of foam stickers that you must have not wanted to throw away when you moved out of your parents' house. Damn, you'd forgotten about these completely!

The next day at work, you went to meet up with Wheatley at a spot where the management rail came down the wall for maintenance on personality cores, and greeted him with a friendly hug.

"Wheatley! It's great to see you!"

"it's great to see you too, love! What'cha got there?" He zoomed in on the bag of foam stickers in your free hand, trying to figure out what they were.

"oh, these? These are for you!" You happily opened up the bag and pulled out a big glittery blue butterfly sticker, sticking it to his core.

"Wait... What did you just stick to me?" He started rotating around, trying to look at his own core, but he couldn't for obvious reasons.

"I'll let you see my work when I'm done." You got out some more foam stickers, sticking cute ladybugs, bees, and flowers all over his chrome casing. When you were done, you snapped a picture of him on your phone and held it up for him to see.

"Don't you look handsome!" You said with a smile. Wheatley rotated his Aperture, focusing on the picture so he could see.

"well well well! I do look handsome, don't I!" He smiled with his lower lens cover, about as pleased as a personality core can look. Well, seeing Wheatley all decorated and happy isn't enough to cure you of your rut completely, but it's definitely a spark of joy to ride on for the rest of the day! That was fun.

Edgar:

Edgar has been sitting on your desk for a long time now. He enjoyed watching you with his little rotating webcam, keeping an eye on you as you sat on your couch and typed away on your laptop, just to make sure your laptop didn't get too handsy. It was such a pretty laptop too... Sleek, and much newer than him. Ran very quickly, too. He could never be like that laptop, and he absolutely hated it.

Not only that, but your laptop was covered in fancy, vinyl stickers that you had bought special on the internet. Each of them represented one of your favorite shows or movies, or one of your pride flags. He hated how seeing that cute little laptop filled him with so much jealousy. It made him so angry, even though he knew that laptop wasn't sentient. It couldn't think like he could.

The doorbell rang, and you set your laptop aside to go answer it.

"Oh hell yeah."

You walked inside with your package, and Edgar swiveled his camera around to look at you when you walked back over to him.

"What's that?"

He looked at the box you were holding as you lovingly got out several nice stickers from your favorite sticker supplier. You started showing them to his webcam, letting him see all of your pride flags and cute little chibi characters from your favorite shows and movies.

"they're for you!" You said happily, and his face lit up.

"For me???" He always got so excited when you got him these gifts. His mouse and his webcam were his favorites, of course, but these stickers made him so excited! Did it mean that you loved him as much as that shiny new laptop you were always tapping away on?

"Yeah! All for you. I love decorated tech!" You said happily, carefully placing each sticker in a nice aesthetically pleasing spot on his thick plastic casing.

"you deserve to feel cute, too." When you were done putting all those stickers on him, you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him in tightly.

"You're mine. Don't you forget it, Edgar."

He had a big silly grin on his face, and he was getting a little bit hot from all the excitement.

"Yowza! Really?"

"of course." You nuzzled your cheek up against his monitor casing, squeezing him nice and close.

"I love you, Edgar."

"I love you too, Y/N"

GLaDOS:

When you came in to work with a big bag of ribbons and lace, GLaDOS didn't think twice. She assumed you had some sort of project going on. In truth, you'd just picked up a bunch of old textiles from a friend who needed small amounts of ribbons and lace for her projects, but the stuff she liked best was only sold in large spools. Instead of trashing it or letting it collect dust, she decided to give them to you.

You carried the big bag of textiles into GLaDOS's chamber, grabbing a stepladder on the way.

"Alright, what are you up to this time?" GLaDOS asked, and you said nothing. Instead, you opted to stick a big pink ribbon bow to the upper left corner of her core with some fabric glue. GLaDOS narrowed her lens covers at you, visibly irritated.

"what is this. What are you planning."

You laughed a little, showing her the big bag of textiles.

"I just thought you might like to be decorated a little bit. It's ok to be a little girly sometimes."

"I happen to like my sleek chrome design, thank you. You can stop now."

Despite her protests, she didn't resist as you decorated her lovely chrome hull with lace, and tied ribbons on her suspension cables.

"I hope you know that I'm going to destroy you for this, you fashion lunatic. I look like a grandmother's sewing closet threw up on me. You should be arrested for crimes against aesthetics."

Even still, she didn't insist that you remove the textiles, or even call anyone else in to remove them. For a few months, whenever you walked into her chambers, the ribbons and lace were still attached to her body.

One day, though, she accidentally dislodged the bow from the corner of her core, and had you come in to remove the rest of the textiles as well.

"it was fun while it lasted, but I'm not a sewing project, after all. You can re-use all that lace for a little doll or something."

As you reached up to untie the last red ribbon from her suspension cables, she pulled away from you.

"wait! You can leave that one. I've grown somewhat fond of having a small splash of color, you know. And while you're an absolute nightmare when it comes to design, when someone actually tears down your creation, it's not impossible to salvage a piece or two. I hope you take that to heart. Though I'll probably scrap that bit of ribbon in a week or two."

But she didn't. she kept that bit of ribbon long after you were dead, never touching it.

HAL 9000:

It was another late night at mission control, and when you finally got back, you were ready to collapse into bed. Strangely enough, though, there was a box sitting in front of your door. You took it inside and opened it up, and inside there was a little note for you.

"heya y/n! I just started up my online store, and wanted to send you some of the stickers I'm selling. Let me know if they're good, alright?" The message was signed with one of your internet friends' names. You headed inside and sent them a text, letting them know that you got their package and that you were excited to stick those stickers to something, and you knew just what you were going to stick them to, too.

When you got to work the next day, your pockets were full of stickers from your internet friend's online shop.

"Hey HAL 9000! It's great to see you again!"

You'd greet him with a hug, but unfortunately he was built into the wall, so that would be pretty difficult. Even still, you sat down in your desk chair right across from where his little light and camera were built into the wall.

"Hello, y/n. It's good to see you again." He said politely, sounding about as pleased to see you as his voice was capable.

"I brought you something!"

You reached into your bag and pulled out some of your friend's artwork stickers, and started sticking them onto the wall around HAL 9000. The stickers were generally simple lovey-dovey designs, with things like the word "love" in bubble letters, a rainbow and the sun, and generally sweet things that your mushy gushy friend loved so much. HAL 9000 looked at the stickers with one of the security cameras on the wall, trying to see what you were decorating him with.

"Do you really think that all these cute things match my personality, y/n?" He asked, voice expressionless as usual.

"well... Maybe not, but they certainly match how I feel about you, HAL 9000! I love you a lot, and I want you to know that every time you see yourself."

Hal couldn't smile, but he took a moment to respond to what you said to him.

"thank you. Truly. This means a lot to me."

#2001 a space odyssey #am ihnmaims #am x reader #edgar electric dreams #edgar electric dreams x reader #edgar x reader #glados #glados x reader #hal 9000 #hal 9000 x reader #Wheatley #wheatley x reader #wheatley portal 2 #i have no mouth and i must scream #portal #portal 2

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translatemunson · 3 months ago

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aren't you the sweetest?

joaquín torres x female!reader cw: mention of sweets, use of feminine when referring to reader, very short drabble i wrote on the road this week, english is not my first language and i did my best to proofread it (lmk if you see any mistakes)

A heavy sight left your mouth as soon as you were done with your latest report. You opened one of the drawers on your desk, and repeated the expression.

Sam looked at you, ignoring whatever map he had on his tablet’s screen.

“What’s up?”

“Did you get anything from my candy drawer?” You pointed down.

“No?” Sam puzzled his brows together.

“That’s odd. I’m missing this special candy I was keeping for later.” You started to take out the packages, “I have Nerds, M&Ms, Kitkats, that chocolate bar you got me from Germany. But there is something missing.”

“Kid, just add to your shopping list. Or, like, check the cameras if you think someone stole from you.” He waved your complaint off. To be honest, he definitely found it worthless, but he knew better than to get himself between a woman and her sweets.

As he was getting back to his task, Joaquín walked in. The bird boy decided his brain was fried from too much hacking and tracking their next targets, so he went to clear his mind with an intense gym session. His curls were messed up, and his Miami Hurricanes muscle tee was drenched.

“Yo, Joaquín, did you steal something from your girl?” Sam inquired right away.

Your boyfriend looked at you and shook his head, “No? What happened?”

“Someone stole one of her candies. The special one,” he explained.

“It’s not that serious, mi amor,” you laughed, and tried to explain yourself.

“Which one? Have you checked the cameras? I did take a bag of M&Ms from you last week, but I got you two bags to cover.” Joaquín closed the distance between him and your work table. His arm reached the drawer from behind you, and he opened it, “Looks ok to me.”

“It wasn’t like that a second ago,” you leaned forward. “There was something missing before.”

“Do you want me to grab you something?”

“No, it’s ok, I have everything that I need,” you held him by the arm.

“You sure?”

“Yup.” You gave him a quick kiss. “I got my special candy right now.”

Sam rolled his eyes, and you giggled like a kid. Joaquín kissed you back, and it took everything in you to not drag him away from the room.

“God, you’re both too cheesy,” Sam complained.

“Don’t be grumpy, Sam. Do you want some candy?”

“I’ll pass.”

“Suit yourself, Cap.”

a/n: this is just a sweet drabble i wrote after watching a cute tiktok. that’s it, it’s not that deep. hope you guys liked it! thank you so much for the love on my other joaquín fic, i wasn’t expecting it!

#joaquin torres #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x you #marvel #marvel x reader #mcu #mcu x reader #captain america brave new world #danny ramirez #falcon #joaquin x reader #joaquin x you #joaquin torres fic #joaquin torres fluff #joaquín torres

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burningembers91 · 5 months ago

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Awards Night - Park Min-Su x Fem!Reader

Follow up piece to:

The Secretary

Lunch Date

Synopsis: tasked with delivering a speech at the annual company awards night, Min-Su turns to you for help; but your body makes it so hard for him to concentrate.

A/N: this storyline is living rent free in my head right now.

The atmosphere in the office was electric, the excitement palpable as everyone readied themselves for a night of celebrations. Park Min-Su hated the annual company awards night, which was nothing more than an excuse for people to get shit faced and take advantage of an open bar.

Last year his father had insisted he make a speech, thanking the employees for their hard work. Min-Su was not a confident speaker, and ended up stammering through two sentences of what he’d prepared before backing into a magnum of champagne and shattering the bottle all over the stage. He’d hoped that his father would allow him to blend quietly into the background this year, but no such luck.

Min-Su knew what people said about them, could hear them whispering about him at lunch, making snide remarks as he stammered his way through meetings. His shenanigans at the awards night had been circulated for weeks over email and text, only ceasing when his father threatened to fire people. He was expecting this year to be as disastrous as last, but this time he had a secret weapon: he had you.

“Your dad wants me to help you with your speech,” you’d smiled to him one morning, perching on his desk in your tantalising tiny skirt. He wondered if you knew what you were doing, if you were aware of the effect you had on him. Min-Su had fallen head first into infatuated lust with you, spending his evenings picturing you in every possible position, imagining his name falling from your mouth in breathy moans. He wondered if it was obvious he had no experience with women, if you knew he’d only gotten so far as handholding. It embarrassed him that he was 28 and so inexperienced; you’d want a man who knew how to make you feel good, not a boy who didn’t know the first thing about unhooking a bra.

“Min-Su?” You were smiling at him, waiting patiently for him to answer you. He’d been so lost in his daydreams that he’d forgotten to respond to your words. His body had responded to you though, his stiffening cock aching against the fabric of his suit. He shifted his chair further under the desk, hoping you hadn’t noticed the effect you had on him.

“Yes. The speech,” he sighed. “I’m not great at public speaking.”

He’d grown more confident with you over the last 6 months, and had finally started opening up. You’d spent hours talking in his office, or over lunch, and Min-Su had tried his best to explain the rigid upbringing he’d had pressed upon him. You knew he didn’t want the family company, but you also knew he was too terrified of his father to ever say anything.

“Well, what did you say last year?” You asked, your pen tapping on your notepad. Min-Su could see up your skirt with the position you were sitting in, could see the briefest flash of the black lace underwear you wore. He shifted uncomfortably, the view doing nothing for his erection, but fuelling the fantasies that would play over in his head later.

“Last year I thanked everyone for coming and then knocked over an expensive bottle of champagne,” he admitted. You bit back a laugh, and seeing your reaction caused a smile to break across his face. You liked seeing Min-Su smile, enjoyed seeing him relax. He had a handsome face, and his smile made his eyes light up.

“Ok, well, we’ll start with thanking everyone again, and avoid smashing any alcohol.” You started scribbling on your notepad, your floral perfume enveloping Min-Su as he watched you work. “Oh, your dad also wants to know if you’re bringing a plus one tonight.”

“No,” he shook his head. “Can… can you not be my plus one?” He knew you were coming already, all the employees were invited, but he was hoping you’d stay with him tonight, help him with the nerves only you seemed able to quell.

“I’d never thought you’d ask,” you winked. You knew he didn’t have a plus one, and his dad hadn’t asked you to check. But you were hoping he’d get the courage up to ask you to go with him, to stay by his side. The more time you spent with Min-Su, the more you were desperate to teach him things he could only dream about.

The awards ceremony was being held at the some fancy hotel, and the dress code was strictly black tie. You arrived in a satin navy blue cocktail dress, ignoring the stares of the investment bankers around you. You only had eyes for Min-Su tonight. You found him seated behind a champagne fountain, a half full glass clutched in his hand. His eyes lit up as he saw you, and he stood to attention, slopping champagne onto his Versace brogues.

“Wow,” he whispered, taking in the dress that outlined your figure like it was made just for you. “You look…” he couldn’t finish his sentence, simply because the word to describe your beauty didn’t exist.

You smiled, opening your purse and pulling out his speech.

“It’s all typed and ready to go. Just remember, I’ll be at the front of the crowd. If you get nervous, just look at me and pretend I’m the only one in the room.”

Min-Su wouldn’t have trouble doing that; most of the time he didn’t notice anyone else when you were around. He swallowed hard, trying not to notice the way your breasts looked in the tight dress. Heading to the stage, he waited for his father to introduce him, and took to the microphone.

He could hear people laughing, could see cameras in the crowd waiting to capture the moment he fell flat on his face. His eyes scanned the crowd, finding you standing right near the stage, just where you said you’d be. He focused on your face, on your soft eyes and smile. You gave him a small thumbs up, and Min-Su started speaking. His voice wavered, but didn’t falter, and he thanked his father, grandfather and colleagues for another successful year. He laid out the yearly earnings and various company acquisitions, and for the first time in maybe his whole life, his father looked at him with a smidge of pride. Your speech was perfect, and yet Min-Su claimed all the credit.

He couldn’t find you after he stepped down from the stage, swarmed by the very people who used to make fun of him. Now they slapped him on the back, cracked jokes with him, offered him glasses of champagne. But Min-Su only wanted to be with you. His eyes searched the sea of people, spotting your blue dress by the door leading to the balcony. He picked his way through the crowd, finding you leaning against the railing as you took in the night sky.

“That was amazing,” you smiled, “you did such an incredible job.” You pulled him into a hug, your curves soft and warm against his body. He pulled away before you could feel his body react to you, smiling sheepishly as he swallowed the rest of his drink.

“It was all you,” he shrugged, unable to tear his eyes from your figure.

“I just wrote the words,” you told him. “You had the whole room in a trance.”

Min-Sun could hear the music start up inside, could hear the laughter of people as they joined the dance floor.

“Dance with me?” You asked him, holding out your hand for him to take. He’d never really danced before, too aware of all the things that could go wrong.

“I can’t dance,” he mumbled.

“Everyone can dance!” You exclaimed. “Come on, we’ll stay out here where no one can see.”

Min-Su slowly span you around, completely out of time to the music but neither of you seemed to care. You were lost in your own little world, Min-Su laughing as he became more confident. He wasn’t sure how long you were out there for, just the two of you under the star studded sky. He wanted to kiss you, wanted to feel your lips against his but he had no idea how to start, or if you even wanted to kiss him back.

“We should go back inside,” you eventually sighed. “You’re the man of the hour, and they’ll be missing you.”

Min-Su wanted to tell you that he didn’t want to go back inside, he wanted to dance all night with you under the stars. But he faltered yet again, smiling sadly as you led him inside.

He couldn’t concentrate for the rest of the night, wishing he was back outside with you. That night he pleasured himself as he imagined removing your blue satin dress, of kissing down your body while you moaned his name. He couldn’t look you in the eye the next day, the filthy things he’d imagined still ingrained in his brain.

He didn’t know you’d been thinking of him as well, that you’d pictured the two of you making love under the stars. You were so desperate to teach him things, to open him up to a world of pleasure he could only dream of.

All he had to do was ask.

#squid game #squid game 2 #squid game x reader #squid game fanfic #squid game x you #squid game season 2 #park min su #min su x you #min su squid game #min su x reader #player 125

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witchygagirlwrites · 4 months ago

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Love You

Jay Halstead x Reader (Nicknamed Jinx)

Jay finally confronts you about why you left him and the conversation ends so much better than you ever thought it could've.

You had fallen into a steady rhythm of avoiding Jay, barely able to form words to him off the clock then a bad day would hit or a rough case and just like that you’d end up underneath him or on top of him or with his head between your thighs. You loved him, you craved him. Every time he touched you, it made you feel whole but damn you knew you had to figure out a way to move on. It would be the only way for both of you.

Jay watched you help Kim at the board. His head and heart was aching where you were concerned. He loved you, had loved you for so long. Now he was limited to just fucking you when you came knocking and he was sick enough to not have the strength to tell you no because it that was the only part of you he could have? He was selfish enough to take it.

Rather it was hours spent wrapped around you in his bed, a rushed time with his hand over your mouth in the locker room or like that one time it had been a quiet moment of his head buried between your legs in his truck.

He hadn’t given a damn about anything but feeling you shake around him. Hell he knew for a fact right now you probably still had bruises the size and shape of his fingertips on your body.

Just yesterday you’d ripped his heart in two even more when you’d been tasked with wiring him up while Hailey wired Kevin.

“Unbutton your shirt Jay” you spoke and he grinned without realizing it “All you had to do was ask sweetheart” you shook your head and shrugged before starting to unbutton his shirt yourself. He watched you for a moment and you cut your eyes up at him before shaking your head “Don’t look at me like that” he hadn't even realized he was looking at you any sort of way so he asked “Like what?” you looked at him and whispered “Like you care” before your fingers traced the muscles of his chest lightly. “I do honey. I always have” he wanted you to believe him but dammit all you’d said was “Not like I care about you”

What did you mean? You couldn’t drop a bomb like that then not talk about it!

“What do I do Kim?” you had confessed to her because she of all people knew about falling for your partner and keeping falling into bed with your partner. “Talk to him?” she offered and you shook your head “Not an option” she shrugged “Adam would say best way to get over someone is to get under someone else” you raised an eyebrow “That’s an idea” she grabbed your arm “Just think about what you’d doing Jinx. If you love him. Maybe it’s worth the risk”

“He doesn’t love me Kim” you breathed and she shook her head “How do you know? Because some assholes say you were a rebound?” you scrubbed a hand down your face “Photos of her are still in his place. He was going to propose to her Kim and they weren’t even together. I can accept what I am and what I’m not. I can’t keep doing this to myself. I’m hurting myself, every time I fall into his bed. I’m hurting him. I have got to move on. He can’t love me. I can’t live with him not loving me” she shook her head “Just call if you need me” you nodded “Ok” and hugged her before she walked out the locker room behind Adam.

You were sitting at the bar in Mollys, sipping on a beer. You just needed a breather. You heard someone walk up and cut your eyes up then did a double take “Hey Will” he cut his eyes towards you and grinned “Hey Jinx. How’s it going?” you shrugged “Can’t complain. Drink with me?” he nodded “I’ve had a lot worse company”

He got a beer and slid onto the bar stool next to you.

________________________

You and Will talked for the better part of an hour. Will wasn’t as good looking as Jay was but he damn sure wasn’t ugly. “So, you single or what Halstead?” you asked and he grinned “Why?” you shrugged “My place isn’t far”

He shook his head “You’re my brother’s ex” “Technically” you laughed and he looked behind you at the door “Then why did he just walk in and why is he looking at me like he’s going to kill me?” you cut your eyes back and made eye contact with Jay, your heart flipping slightly before turning back to Will “He doesn’t want me like I want him. I can sleep with who I want so what if it’s you?”

“Hell no” you heard from behind you and you both turned to face a very pissed off looking Jay. Will held up his hands and Jay simply picked you up, flipping you upside down over his shoulder “Will, I will catch you later. Me and her need to talk, NOW”

The problem with being a well known detective and being over the shoulder of a well known detective and everyone knowing the two of you get along? Not many are checking if he’s walking out with you slung over his shoulder so you said fuck it and just sagged against him so he was carrying dead weight.

Once he made it out into the cool night air he sat you down onto your feet, pushing you back gently against the wall. He put a hand on either side of your head to effectively cage you between him and the wall “So what is it? I’m good enough to fuck you but not good enough for another chance?” he asked and your heart dropped, looking up into his eyes “What?”

He shrugged “You keep fucking me but won’t talk to me afterwards, won’t have anything to do with me until the next time you need a release and I don’t have to strength to tell you no. If you only give me this part of you, I’m not strong enough to ask for more because I need you. Whatever you’ll give me, I’ll take but Will? Hell No. I’ll kill my own brother before I see him with you and I fucking mean every damn word. You don’t need anything from him you can’t get from me”

“So you’re perfectly content fucking me?” you asked and he shook his head “Hell no. I want you back but you’ve kind of made it clear that you are not going to take me back. You’ve been in my bed, I have been in yours. Hell we’ve been in my truck and the locker room. You keep coming back to give me just enough of a taste to keep me hooked and you are killing me Jinx. I can’t, I just walked in to you flirting with my brother. This is it. You are not moving from this spot until you tell me why you left me!”

“Because I fell in love with you Jay! I’m in love with you” you blurted out and his eyes widened “What?” you nodded “I love you, and I know what we had was just a rebound from Erin. You loved her. You lived with her, you were going to propose to her. I saw how broken you were when she left. I tried to stay. I tried to not let it bother me that you wouldn’t love me like that but it starts to eat at you and I couldn’t do it any more so I took the temp position in hopes that you’d forget about me and maybe if I saw you with someone else and broke my own heart it would make it easier to not love you”

“Honey” he whispered and you shook your head, trying to pull out of his grip but his hands went from caging you in down to holding your hips. “Jinx, look at me” you slowly raised your eyes to meet his “What we had was never a rebound. Yeah I was messed up when Erin left. It fucking hurt but you know who fixed it? Who made me whole again? You. You fixed parts of me I never even admitted to myself was broken. I was in love with you when you left me, I am still in love with you honey. Did I make you feel like a rebound?” he asked and god the fact that he had tears in his eyes broke your damn in two “No Jay, you treated me good”

“Then why did you leave me? I would have supported you taking the position on the task force but I woke up alone. I went in to work for Voight to tell me you were gone? I went to Russ and begged that man to tell me what I did, to get you to talk to me. I have no damn pride when it comes to you. Who made you feel like a rebound? Who put that idea in that beautiful head of yours?”

“There were so many whispers around work, Jay. So many people talking behind our backs” you shrugged, feeling your own eyes tear up “I couldn’t keep walking into work, holding your hand and hearing them laugh at me because I’m not your usual type, because you were coming off the relationship with Erin. Because there was no way a man like you could love someone like me”

One of his hands gripped your chin, tilting your head back to look you in the eyes. “I’m taking you home. I’m going to spend the rest of the night going over every inch of your body. I will show you just how much I love you then in the morning I’m going to roll call and if any son of a bitch is man enough to put your name in their mouth they won’t be able to use their mouth to do anything for a few weeks after that”

“Jay” you breathed and he shook his head “Please. Just come home with me. Let me hold you. I don’t want to fuck you anymore, I want to love on you. I want to show you how much you mean to me. I want to taste you, I want to feel you under me. I want your nails cutting into my skin, those lips on mine. I want you to still be in my arms come morning light. I want to walk into work in the morning with my arm around my girl. Hell I want to have to sign the damn H.R. paperwork because Voight figures it out when I kiss you goodmorning in the breakroom. Don’t listen to any idiots, don’t listen to insecurities. Listen to me honey. I love you Jinx. No one else”

“Kiss me Jay?” you asked and he smiled “Tell me you love me, one more time. Please?” you laughed “I love you Jay” “Took long enough” he breathed, crashing his lips against yours.

Jay woke up and for just a second that fear struck him that you would be gone, that was until he realized you were curled up on his chest fast asleep. One arm was stretched out over him, holding his body even closer to you. You shifted in your sleep, your lips brushing against his chest and he smiled. This was you being home. Waking up to you in his arms. This should’ve been your original welcome back.

“Staring is creepy Jay” you whispered, a small smile making its way onto your face. “You little shit, how long have you been awake?” you cracked your eyes open and looked up at him “Long enough to be curious how many times you’ve stared at me like that?”

“Not enough times considering” he replied and you smiled “I love you Jay” a smile slipped onto his lips “Now that’s how I want to wake up the rest of my life. You in my arms, still naked from the night before and telling me you love me” you laughed lightly “Rest of your life huh?” he shrugged “There’s so many worse ways I could spend the rest of my life than with you at my side” and brushed his lips against yours “I love you too by the way Jinx”

@desimarie12

@allisonargent144

@nevaehstreater18

#jay halstead x reader #jay halstead x you #jay halstead fanfiction #chicago pd fanfic #chicago pd fic #chicago pd fanfiction #jay halstead angst

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starmocha · 1 year ago

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So the preview of the new theme song uses imagery of the guys' myths, including Sylus'. Rafayel, Xavier, and Zayne, I think we are all fairly familiar with, but since Sylus is not released yet, there are a lot of speculations about what kind of tragic past he and MC shared. Let's try to break it down. Or make it more confusing. 🫠

Interestingly, before the "tragedy" we see their wrists are bounded together by a red thread.....perhaps....the Red Thread of Fate? As the saying goes, rough paraphrasing on my part: Two lovers, regardless of time, place, and circumstances, are destined to be together, connected by a single red thread. The red thread may twist and tangle, but it may never break.

However, as we can see in the video, Sylus and MC's thread does break, and unlike in the traditional belief, their thread is wrapped around their wrists and not fingers. As the thread breaks, we also see Sylus behind bars. Imprisonment? A crime?

Speaking of wrists, another thing I've noticed with Sylus' trailers is that it involves handcuffs a lot, which seems more significant now in light of this preview.

Especially since we see him also breaking them so easily.

I kind of made a passing joke in the tags of a previous post that Sylus' upcoming chapters carry shades of the Greek myth with Hades and Persephone, but perhaps I may not be too far off?

Just take a look at this wide view of the scene of Sylus and MC separated:

The N109 Zone is shown during the night with a bright red moon, giving a feeling reminiscent of the Underworld ruled by Hades. Note how it looks like Sylus is behind bars, a prison, if you will. In Greek mythology, Hades was tasked with ruling the Underworld, not by his choice, but the wills of others (so in a sense: trapped). Could this mean that perhaps Sylus has no desire to be the leader of Onychinus? Could he be bounded there against his will?

Meanwhile, MC is shown on the side of light. If we compare her to Persephone, she is on the surface world with other people. But from the preview, it looks like she is abducted and taken to the N109 Zone, much like Persephone was abducted and taken to the Underworld to be Hades' bride.

(Brief unserious interlude, because I want to spread my Hades/Persephone agenda:

Sylus is the Hades to MC's Persephone

The dark to her light

He is feared by everyone except her.

He'll let her get away with everything (covering him in silly band-aids, poking him in the side) because he adores her.

If anything happens to her, the world will feel his wrath.

He embodies the feeling of "if anything happens to her, I will kill everyone in this room and then myself."

In short, scary leader is big softie for his wifey and I am willing to die on this hill

OK. End interlude.)

Also, um... 😭

Bringing up the theory that Sylus is trapped? The Beast is trapped in the castle because of the curse by an enchantress. I seriously couldn't get this comparison out of my mind when I saw the dancing scene in the trailer, so it feels appropriate to bring it up here.

Perhaps like the Beast initially, Sylus does display a very dominating and aggressive temperament, but then in his 5* memory, Captivating Flavor, he seems more approachable, so perhaps we will soften him over time?

Now...since Infold had the audacity to drop that trailer while I was writing this, here is another example of them going with the trapped/caged/bounded theory (there is also an image of a bear trap earlier, but I'm at my 10-pic limit, so the cage seems more obvious (and aesthetically pleasing lol)

So could Sylus be trapped in the same way as the Foreseer is trapped within the Tower? But unlike the Foreseer, Sylus is always trying to break free from his chains. Circling back to his myth, could it be that his tie with MC was broken...by him? Perhaps out of a sense of protection? For her sake?

In Beauty and the Beast, the Beast was willing to let Belle go, to be killed by Gaston, to succumb to the curse, all for the sake of Belle's happiness and freedom.

In the myth of Hades and Persephone, Persephone was allowed to leave the Underworld to return to her mother for half a year, but since she ate a few pomegranate seeds, food from the Underworld, she was also bounded to return to the Underworld for the other half to be with her husband. Each year, the cycle returns. Come spring, Hades must let his beloved wife leave him for half a year, and there's nothing he can do to change it.

Bonus Greek myth tidbit: the crow plays a significant part in a myth involving the sun god Apollo, where it acts as a messenger for him. The crow, once white, was burned and turned black, as retribution for telling the truth (revealing an affair) that led to Apollo killing his lover.

So, let's recap real quick the symbolism we have seen. 🤔

Handcuffs: bounded

Bars: imprisonment

Bear trap (couldn't include the pic, but it's there, trust me): caught, trapped

Birdcage: trapped, caged

The crow: a messenger; punished for revealing the truth (so, punishment)

So, gathering my random little thoughts...

Theory 1: Sylus and MC must have been destined lovers in a past life, but due to whatever conflict, Sylus decided to break his bond with her for her protection and accept any punishment that comes with it, which could mean to be ruler of a place he has no desire for, an imprisonment of sort.

Theory 2: Destined lovers, but perhaps a third party interfered out of jealousy or spite. Could Sylus have been caught and framed of a crime and been literally imprisoned, thus forcing him and MC to separate?

Something to this effect, I think, from working with the crumbs I've gathered. It's also almost midnight as of the time of writing this, so my brain is feeling loopy now (also no thanks to that Sylus trailer that popped up while I was writing this 💀)

Anyhoo, make of all of this as you will. My Hades/Persephone agenda will persist.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #lnds ramblings #lnds analysis #so anyway i was going to post this last night #but then #infold dropped THAT video #and well #oh god i am still not ok #anyway #fam what you think #have i confused you all #😀

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pnfc · 5 months ago

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short conversational fic. in which heinz buys them a pet, and there are no problems ( ~4k words )

EDIT: obligatory ao3 link

It’s like half a year into them dating. Or 194 days into them dating, but who’s counting. Holiday season. They’re out shopping together, which is a joint effort, Heinz distracted by the offerings at every store and gimmick toys too babyish for any kids they know (but not too babyish for Heinz) and whatever side-street restaurants have sprung up by surprise, or are at least new to his memory. Perry is keeping Heinz on task, and footing the bill. Heinz is tall enough to reach a checkout counter. So they make a good team.

They’ve stashed their bags in the truck and are finalizing things at the books and small gifts store when Heinz tells Perry to hold on a minute, while he runs back out to the street. Perry has read through most of the cards for wine moms on the bottom row when Heinz returns with a plastic crate.

“Okay so you know in ‘Lady and the Tramp’ when the guy gets the girl a puppy for Christmas, stuffed in a hatbox?”

An alarming preamble. Perry sets his face.

“Well don’t worry, I didn’t do that, because it’s stupid. Gifting someone a pet dog. Who does that? And wrapping it up in a bow it doesn’t want to wear and everything, so it trips around and falls down the stairs, strangles itself to death, awful. Just a terrible gift idea.” He pauses. “But I got us a kitten!”

Heinz swings the container forward so Perry can see in the barred door. There’s a blanket wrapped around a white lump of fur, which is bristling and softening with each breath. Perry looks up at Heinz with a hollow expression.

I’m so glad you didn’t buy a dog, Perry signs. Heinz is beaming. No.

Heinz blinks, while it registers. “Did you say ‘no’? You’re saying ‘no’?”

I’m saying no.

“No to the . . . kitten? To the sweet little ki— Perry the Platypus, come on,” Heinz pleads, pulling the crate back stably against his legs. “There’s a million little kitties out there who need a home and we have so much room in our place, I’ve been thinking about this for a while. It never worked out for me picking up strays off the street, as you recall, but this guy’s from a shelter, so no little kid’s gonna show up and steal him away. I paid for this. The logistics all check out. It’ll make our house a home!”

No. We don’t need a cat.

Perry leaves it at that, doesn’t bother taking offense to Heinz’s suggestion that their house is not currently a home. He’s being stupid, obviously he is, why call a spade a spade? Heinz furrows his brow at Perry, and sighs at him like he’s being so hopeless.

“Alright. I thought you might be like this — you’re that type of guy, aren’t you, Perry the Platypus? All burly and macho, convinced only a big manly hunting dog could be the animal for you.”

Perry’s mouth is open. Is that how you see me?

“Ok so I’m hyperbolizing but the point is — you’re not a cat person. I know. At least you think you aren’t. But I know how people tick, Perry the Platypus, and trust me: once you let this little ball of cuteness into your heart, you will never want to unclog your arteries.” Heinz points at Perry, who’s got his jacketed arms in a cross. “You’re too soft on the inside. You’ll see.”

That certainly explains how Perry got where he is, with an impulse-driven, acutely toxoplasmotic boyfriend. He presses a hand to his bill bridge, glances sidelong, then starts tugging Heinz away from the crowded card display.

There’s no one in the back corner of the store, with the self-help books, so Perry drops Heinz’s sleeve and gestures at him to set the crate down.

“I thought we could talk it over in the car — or at home?” Heinz says as he straightens up. “Or did you want to look at these before we leave?” He’s skimming over romantic guides advising women to dump their pushy boyfriends. “It’s just they’re all so hacky, I’m not a fan. Plus this store doesn’t carry any of my books — which are hacky, yet practical.” He looks at Perry. “Though none of mine have a ‘Phasing out of subtextual innuendo and into a real relationship’ chapter, yet. That’s in drafts.”

Let’s talk here. Perry hits the brakes mid-sign and wheels on Heinz, with a low growl. Do NOT write about our love life.

“Perry!” he flutes, in a scandalized tone that is difficult to trust. “I would never, in so much detail. I write in broad strokes. Anonymized hypotheticals, that people can relate to. I’m not getting monotreme-specific. . . . Maybe mammal-specific.”

This will be a future conversation. Perry plates it on the heaping table of messy topics in his mind and returns to the one at hand.

We can’t keep the cat. It’s a bad idea.

Heinz huffs, glancing back down at the plastic carrier on the carpet. “Ok, I hate to go here but. Is it because you’re an animal? Does that make it weird to you?” He cocks his head. “Because you know I don’t even think about that. That’s not what you are to me. Like I’m not blind to it, obviously, because you are a platypus. It’s hard to miss that. And I love all the little platypus parts you have, your leathery paws and your big tail and your, your highly efficient lack of ears — it’s all just so characteristically you,” Heinz says, indicating Perry’s form with open hands. “So uniquely Perry the Platypus, not animal-ish. To me. But maybe that’s because I don’t hang out with a lot of other platypuses.”

Heinz kneels by the carrier, while Perry lets his opening question hang unanswered. He hooks fingers into the metal bars — the kitten’s still deep in sleep, its pink nose poking out of a blanket fold.

“Point is you’re not at all like this guy, to me — or to anyone with eyes and a brain. You’re a person, and this guy’s a pet. A real one, not like the one your job forced you to act like, back in the day. This kitty isn’t like you and your secret agent buddies. Like what was it — Kathy? Kelly? The cat one? We’re not gonna push it through military brainwashing, or feed it smart-pills or whatever it is they did to you.”

Perry stares in response, and signs for pill-taking with a shake of his head.

“Oh, they didn’t give you smart-pills? Well they did something to you. And we’re not gonna do whatever OWCA . . .” He trails off, since Perry’s still shaking his head. “What? They didn’t?” Another shake. “Didn’t OWCA stick you guys with a supersoldier serum when you were kids? Or some kind of brain-smartener? The whole ‘Flowers for Algernon’ deal?” Shake.

Heinz is taken aback. He pushes off his knees, and stares down at Perry. “Really? That can’t be right. Perry the Platypus, you’re like.” He pauses, thinking. “Well, I’m not too proud to say, that — for a certain number of metrics of intelligence, and that is bearing in mind that a large number of those metrics exist — you’re smarter than me. By a lot.

“And you have a certain conversational verve and wit about you that I don’t tend to encounter at the zoo, among those chuckleheads.” Heinz laughs, stiff. “I mean come on, you’re not a regular platypus, Perry.”

To which Perry has no ready retort. He just hills his shoulders, palms open. He is and he isn’t. He isn’t, but apparently he is.

Heinz gawps, and sinks himself down to the bookstore carpet. “So like, what, you’re telling me you’re just naturally like this?”

Seems that way.

“And you’re uh. What, like. . . . An animal?”

194 days of officialized dating and this has clicked for him.

“No way.” He leans in closer to Perry’s face, fists propping him forward like a curious ape. “I just never thought — you sure there isn’t some big secret they’re keeping from you? Tell me.”

Perry blinks at Heinz. If there’s a secret, he signs with plodding emphasis. How would I know?

“Right — you’re right, okay.” Heinz slouches in his kneel. “That makes sense. But wow, Perry the Platypus. That is surprising. I mean, I know animals can be smart. God knows the local pigeons outwit me every other morning on my bakery runs. But Momma Ocelot wasn’t exactly reading me Cervantes, growing up.” He rubs fingers through the short pile of the rug. “Then again, she didn’t have a library card. That might’ve had something to do with it.”

She probably couldn’t read, Perry signs, as he sits next to Heinz. I learned from OWCA.

“You had different opportunities,” Heinz says, in slow agreement. “Okay, I can see that. But don’t you think, Perry, there’s something extra-special about you? There is, right? I mean I’ve never connected to anyone,” he says, fumbling, “like you. No people, no ocelots, animals. Ever in my life. What does that say about you?”

Perry tilts his head, and points the question back at Heinz.

“. . . Huh.” Heinz stares at his own hands, dangled on the floor. Perry studies his face as they lapse into silence. Unlike most silences with Heinz, this one is accruing an uneasy edge. Perry fidgets, glances at the pet crate and back. He taps a hand on Heinz’s upper arm.

Hey. Is this a problem? he signs. It’s clear something’s clicking together in a weird way for Heinz, and Perry knows better than to assume the worst, but he still has to state his mind. I’m me. Same as yesterday, Perry signs. Same as always.

Heinz stares across at him, a little chastened, a little pink. “Oh — I know, Perry the Platypus.” He rubs the back of one hand with the other. “It’s just — what are we doing? With this kitten, I mean. What does it mean if he could be like you? If he went through OWCA, or if we . . . taught him the stuff you learned, how to read and everything. Or if we didn’t — what, would he just be a normal cat? Is that a choice we could make?”

Perry gives him a searching expression, hands up.

“That’s all you’ve got for me? You don’t know?”

Quiet again. Thoughts are coming down fast as the outside flurry. Their gestural language is getting good now, quicker than Perry had anticipated, quick to read each other and intuit what’s in the gaps. But despite it all Perry still can’t articulate with ease all the words flowing into his head — they get stuffed up inside, pillowing down too fast. Typing is great, when he can get in the swing of it, and he longs for it at times like this.

But maybe the communication barrier is just as well, when there’s so many words piling up and none of them form an answer.

What can Perry explain? Is he supposed to articulate answers to the questions that have unremittingly cropped up his entire life, in his own mind? Years wondering why he couldn’t click with Agent Pinky, who chewed on couch cushions to soothe an eternally simmering anxiety, intractable doggy jitters that Perry could not fathom and found perpetually annoying — or with Harry, who’d wrap Perry up into lanky hugs that felt like getting shoved down in a brushfield, skunky earthen smells and loud cackles that he had to fight his way back out of every time?

Were they more animal, or was Perry more human? He couldn’t hope to answer that with any confidence. Or was there something more malignant in Perry’s development, some aberration of personality, whatever it was that kept him from gelling and made him not even want to try?

He gets the sense that some unnatural growth did twist up, over the years, in the walled garden he built within himself, behind brick meters of protection. One Heinz had cracked his way through to, after years of persistent battering. And now Heinz is delighting in the fruits of whatever warped, mutant object Perry has become — which felt good, until today, when he thought to question it.

Was it unfair, maybe, for Perry to overstep the boundaries written into his birth, to give Heinz a warped impression of animalkind? Or was it all just delusional egotism on Perry’s part, thinking he’s fundamentally any different from this cat?

Perry stares at the pink plastic of the crate. Melted snow has congealed into drops on its side. He looks at Heinz, who’s sitting with his long arms crossed on his knees, and formulates the thought at the front of his mind right now, knowing it doesn’t help a thing.

I came from a pet store.

Heinz makes a little “oh” with his mouth, and nods. “That’s how your family got you, huh?”

How OWCA distributes their pet-sized agents, yeah.

Heinz joins Perry in looking at the crate, where the kitten’s still sleeping in peace. “What’d they charge for you?”

Perry snorts at that, like it’s a joke, surprised. Heinz isn’t really smiling though, he’s got those soft eyes turned on him.

So he smiles back at Heinz, head tilted. No idea.

“Well,” says Heinz. “This guy cost me $60. And I’d wanna think you’re worth more than that. What kind of a number did OWCA put on you? I’m serious.”

Perry waves a hand in dismissal. Don’t take it too seriously. They’re domestic animals, he signs, they need a home.

“Kinda hard not to take it seriously,” Heinz gruffs, “when it applies to you. I’d like to know exactly how much cold hard cash Francis made pawning off my boyfriend to some grubby little kids, you know? Not to insult your family, Perry. I like them. But like. Definitionally, that’s what they were, at the time.”

Heinz is fussing with the aglets of his bootlaces, chipping away at the plastic.

“D’you think I should ask him to pony it back up? The adoption fee? Not for me, you know, for your family, since they’re the ones who paid it. But mostly for Francis not having it anymore.”

Indignation is all across Heinz’s lined face, as he broods over his boots. Perry feels himself gazing in slack adoration. What an incredibly stupid, petty thing to offer.

He and Heinz have been out long hours shopping, racking up a massive amount of credit — on Perry’s card, on the account that is shared between them, though Heinz’s name isn’t officially attached to it yet. Every other minute it’s been:

Oh, a gardening spade! That’s a good brand, Perry the Platypus, you should get it for the boys, isn’t Ferb studying botany? And God that astrolabe is beautiful — who’d like it more, Linda or Lawrence? And Oh! When did we get a stationery store? Vanessa’s into the analog stuff, with her little jetsetting friends, and she’s got that trip to Europe next year — that is a nice fountain pen, Perry the Platypus, trust me, it’s worth the pricetag. And oh, not a bedazzler kit — didn’t Norm want that? I know, I know, Perry . . . we shouldn’t enable him. But it’s Christmas. Speaking of. That tablecloth set is gorgeous, right? I mean we need seasonal napkin sets, I’ve been saying this. The project of home furnishing never ends, Perry the Platypus. We’re getting it.

Heinz never offers to pay his share, on these shopping trips out. He accepts his receptive place under the hefty bulk of Perry’s bank account. It must’ve been the same way with Charlene. Like after so many sad bachelor years he’s reverted to the natural role of spoiled househusband, a happier state of being.

And Perry gets to enable it, gets to fund his cute little impulses. Which throbs a kind of wild power up his spine, makes him feel towering, despite his 24 inches.

Did Charlene get to feel this way? Perry thinks, as he thinks about marriage. He reaches out to rub Heinz’s knee.

“I kind of regret getting him that cool pencil sharpener now,” he mutters, and Perry has to drag his head back to the topic of Monogram.

Reassuringly: Don’t. He uses pens.

Heinz scoffs. “You could’ve told me.”

It was a vintage sharpener shaped like a cartoon beaver, you stuck the pencil in its mouth. Heinz had been so charmed by it. Perry just grins at him, all “what can you do”.

A soft mewl carries from the plastic box, and Heinz wheels on it immediately. “Aw, little baby . . .”

Through the carrier door Perry sees the white-wicked lump moving, a squint of sleepy blues. Heinz pokes a couple fingers in, his palm too thick to fit between the bars.

“We forgot all about you, sweetie, we were talking about that bad Major Monogram. He’s a mean old man who’s rude to animals, who you will never have to meet — God, can you imagine,” he says with a turn to Perry, dropping his babytalk down to dry derision in an instant. Perry holds back a laugh.

“I guess that’s another factor I didn’t consider, in pet ownership. My proximity to a guy who brainwashes little animals to prop up his own failed military career.” He waggles his fingers, which the kitten is taking notice of. “He wouldn’t try to recruit this guy, would he?”

Doubt it, signs Perry, smiling tight. But we’re not keeping it.

“Yeah, I think I’m getting that by now,” he mumbles. “I wasn’t really thinking this guy could grow up to be like you. I mean, maybe he wouldn’t? But what’s he gonna be in 5 years? Our — our adult live-in roommate? I don’t think we need that, Perry the Platypus,” Heinz says. “I mean we already had Norm.”

Perry restrains himself from throwing a self-help book at Heinz’s head. These things are murder weapons. Instead he scuffs a foot at his boot.

“Maybe we just raise it for a while,” Heinz considers while the kitten attacks his fingers. “To adolescence. Then we swap it, get a new one. Keep a perpetual cycle going of dumb little babies. What do you think, Perry the Platypus?”

Surely he’d survive one book to the face? Instead Perry pulls a reluctant paw off its spine, to sign: I thought you quit evil.

“Oh yeah, I did,” Heinz grins back at him. Dick. “Can’t believe I forgot that. Thanks for the reminder.” His face flags. “Oh — I’m kidding, you get that, right? Don’t look at me like that. This does actually bother me, in case it’s not obvious. I feel like there’s some weird implications here that I don’t wanna think about.”

Another roil of anxiety in Perry’s chest. He gestures: Like?

“Like,” Heinz says, thinking. “Well. Can I just never have a cat? From now on? It’s just that I always liked cats,” he says, looking dolefully at the kitten. “The strays around Drusselstein kept me company, growing up, and the ocelots were like my siblings, even if that didn’t last too long. I always thought taking care of a cat would be paying them back, in a way. Helping out their distant cousins across the sea.

“. . . But Charlene was allergic. So, you know,” he finishes.

And Perry can’t hide that that guts him, that detail. Because Perry wants to be whatever Charlene wasn’t. To know and understand the parts of Heinz that she did not, or would not. To accept what she couldn’t.

But Perry can’t. Not this, not now, so out of the blue, with Heinz not even realizing what he sprung on him.

Perry knows he’s not to blame for the strangeness of the world, its incongruous distribution of mind among its creatures. But he made Heinz aware, by embodying that strangeness. And now they're attached.

And maybe if he hadn’t been . . . If OWCA just sent normal people after the bad guys. Like they used do. Then, well. Then this wouldn’t be an issue.

“Perry.” Heinz’s knuckles push into the sleeve of his coat. “Hey, Perry. The Platypus.”

Heinz is ignoring the kitten, now turned to face Perry, all concern.

“You know this doesn’t actually matter, right?” Heinz’s hand rolls down Perry’s arm, as Perry looks up at his eyes.

“It doesn’t. I mean . . . it’s a lot to think about, that I sort of haven’t before. It’s a weird existential conundrum, right? I mean, speaking of things to write a book about.

“But I’m an adult man. I don’t need to get a kitten today, you know? I won’t even throw a tantrum about it. I just thought — you know, in that stupid way, where I think without thinking — that you’d like it. I thought it would be sweet.

“I mean — look,” Heinz says pointing at the carrier door, through which the kitten is now straining to escape, “he looks like a snowball, and it’s snowing. And he’d look so cute next to you. That’s about as far as I got before I had my wallet out.”

Perry tries to smile up at him. But he has to look away, can’t make the shape with his face, doesn’t know what to say. Heinz rubs a thumb on the back of Perry’s hand.

“We’ll think it through more, in the future. That’s a nice change of pace for me.”

They lapse into a gentler quiet, broken only by the kitten’s high-pitched mewls. Heinz sighs, and glances at Perry.

“You wanna, like. Hold it?”

Their corner of the store remains vacant, while the bustle of holiday shopping continues unabated near the front. At one point an older woman came perusing down the adjacent aisle, and left. That’s the most company they’ve had.

So Perry agrees to let Heinz open up the cage and lift the kitten out, deposit it on the rug. It rolls and bounds around in the angular pen made by Heinz’s splayed legs.

It does look like snow, blue eyes. A pretty little guy. Perry recalls some statistic about deafness in white cats, and for a second wonders if that could be their saving grace, getting Heinz a pet so walled off by its own sensory defects that it could never hope to operate on their level.

That’s a sick line of thought, he realizes with a flash of anger. And it’s nonsense anyway. Like he could allow it, like Heinz could. Like they wouldn’t work extra hard to train it in the animal-adapted form of sign language they’ve been cultivating.

It had opened up new dimensions, to Perry. He thinks Heinz was more excited about it than he was, the first few times Perry’d signed about some noun that wasn’t pointable in the room with them.

The kitten bounces over to Perry and grapples his arm, hugs around it like it’s a playmate. It reaches his shoulder, stretched up on its hindlegs like this. If the cat is deaf, Perry considers, glum, there’s no chance it’ll learn sign in a regular household.

Heinz is looking at him, a bittersweet smile on his face. “Sometimes I forget how small you are,” he says.

Perry grips the kitten under its shoulders to hoist it away from himself. Sure it’s cute, this dumb little thing, with fresh blueberry eyes, staring vacant the way Perry used to train his own to do. If there’s a spark of self-awareness behind this animal’s eyes, Perry can’t see it. He pushes forward, beak to its nose, and issues a gentle krkrkr, tremelo waves down the soft shelf of his bill. The kitten stares, wide eyed, and angles its teetering head forward to press its nose more firmly into Perry, before opening up to jaw on him like a chew toy.

Heinz snorts. Perry looks up again to find him grinning, cross-legged, one knee going at an antsy bounce.

“You’re so cute with him, though,” he says. “I was right about that. You’d . . . you’d be good. With a pet,” he says, voice fading to a softer tone. “With a baby.”

Heinz pauses. “I guess those aren’t the same thing, though.”

Perry sets the kitten back on the carpet, where it topples over its own legs. They aren’t the same thing — but Perry could only treat this animal like one or the other. And he thinks it’s now clear, to him and Heinz both, which one it would have to be.

“I have to admit,” Heinz says, beckoning the kitten back into his hands. “My retirement plan, whenever I used to picture it. Whether I wound up ruling the tristate area or not. Was me lounging back with a good book, in a cozy chair. Big fat kitty on my legs, keeping them warm.”

Perry looks up at Heinz, and nods slowly, mulling this over.

He pokes him in the calf, and signs: That’s good. My retirement plan was getting fat.

Heinz laughs, so sweetly, Perry’s reward. He crunches Perry’s hat down over his eyes, with a heavy hand.

Perry accompanies Heinz back to the vendor, who’s posted up in the window of the florist shop, standing by a square corral of tumbling kittens at play.

“Wife said no, huh?” he says, when Heinz hands the carrier over.

Heinz fake-laughs. Perry’s stationed at his leg, paws in coat, perennially overlooked. “Someone did.”

“Well,” he says, as they get back to the truck. “I’d say this was a pretty successful day, with no major disasters. No monumental life choices made in haste. Wouldn’t you say, Perry the Platypus?”

Perry leans back in the passenger seat, with a glance trunkward at their gift haul. A lazy “ok” hand says enough — they did good.

Heinz grins. “She’s gonna flip, right? I mean, the recording equipment — the weighted keyboard? She’ll be spoiled. You’ve got the gift giving instinct, Perry the Platypus. I’ll give you that.”

Heinz leans over Perry, to buckle him in. “Mine could use some improvement.”

Perry just gives him a silent nahh, smiling up, cheek on hand. Heinz pecks him on the hat. "Shut up, Perry the Platypus." And they depart.

#fic #u can tell im endlessly entertained digging into the weird cartoon animal stuff #also that i started writing this in december and didnt pick it back up til last week...#perryshmirtz

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slayfics · 1 year ago

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Would you consider writing a pro hero!bakugo x pro goth reader fic. Like maybe where they meet on a mission or something.

Katsuki meets a pro goth hero.

550 words

Katsuki was on the scene within seconds of the call. A villain on the move attempting to get away. Not a high-grade villain, so it was going to be an easy task. Either way, Katsuki was glad for the excitement on his patrol shift.

A loud bang and he flew into the alleyway where the villain was last spotted. But he didn’t find a fleeing villain, instead, he was met with a sight that made his ears go hot.

Another pro had beaten him to the scene. The villain was plastered against the floor the pro straddled on top of him pinning him from escaping.

“Where did your friends go?!” You yelled giving the villain a shake.

The villain only mumbled with a flush face, blood trickling from his nose, as you continued to interrogate him, unintentionally bouncing atop him as you yelled and shook him.

Katsuki huffed at the sight. Did you not notice the villain was way too flustered to say anything sensical?

Katsuki didn’t blame the villain. Your slick black hero outfit left little to the imagination. Curves fully displayed and plump breasts pushed together from the tight fit.

You may have thought you were punishing the villain, but this looked more like a reward to Katsuki.

The longer he watched the scene the harder it was to keep his thoughts about work. Your long black hair swayed as you yelled, full lips adorned in shiny black lipstick.

It was a sharp contrast to the usual girl pros he was used to with bright preppy colors that made his eyes squint. Your costume dilated his pupils and shallowed his breath, and no matter how hard he tried to redirect his thoughts he wondered what you’d look like on top of him instead.

“I said where are your friends?!!” You yelled again, obviously to Katsuki’s gaze.

“Think we’ll have better luck if I ask 'em,” Katsuki said, alerting your attention.

You dropped the villain and his head slammed against the ground. His nose still spewing blood.

“Oh, are my methods not good enough for the Great Dynamite?” You teased, eyebrow raised, you stepped off the villain.

Your attitude caught Katsuki off guard, but he found himself clenching his fists as his throat dried.

“Just sayin' I don’t think that nosebleed is because ya hit him in the face, pretty sure he’s not thinking with his head right now,” Katsuki spoke ignoring your jab.

“Alright then, show me how it’s done little fuse,” you taunted and sat up on one of the garbage bins. Legs crossed you gestured to the villain lying dizzy on the floor, indicating for Katsuki to give it a go.

Katsuki scoffed at your nickname pretending to be annoyed, but it made his eyes darken, and cheeks flush.

Katsuki picked up the villain in one hand, lighting up a blast in the other. “Speak or ya gonna be hurting even worse,” he demanded.

“Fuck ok- they are hiding in the dive bar two streets over! They were supposed to wait for my signal,” the villain confessed.

“Was that so hard,” Katsuki taunted, slamming the villain back on the floor and knocking him out.

“Oh, so you like it rough,” you taunted.

What kind of hero were you, Katsuki thought. Mustering up his best eye roll he answered, “Yeah I do- and if you want to meet me later, I’ll show ya there’s nothing little about me.”

sinners: @queenpiranhadon @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @fiannee @i-heart-carlisle @derangedmango @matchat3a @bakugouswaif @reneinii @zanarkandskylines @pastelbakugou @abadbitchblogs @deluluforcarlos55 @b134ch-m4h-ey3z @that-one-fangirl69 @pinkpurpledreams @that-one-fangirl69 @dreamcastgirl99

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fervidgrey · 5 months ago

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Ok I'm obssed with Jo. I have a request. Reader is being annoyed by some creepy guy in the street and Togame just sneaks up and puts him in a sleeper hold. Dude taps out but Jo makes him take a nap anyway. If he did some shit like that in front of me, I'd drool. I love him. Send help 😩❤️❤️

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 Please enjoy my love! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

LONG DAY, LONGER NIGHT

Pairing: Togame Jo x Reader

Rating: Mature.

Word count: 6400~

Note: Assault in the beginning (not with Togame), no use of y/n, no beta, biting, mating press, drinking, cream pie, overstimulation.

The beeping of your phone timer was the signal your closing tasks needed to end soon. You swipe at the timer, and set one more for the next 10 minutes- then you would be free. You had spent all day working at a cafe alone, both of your coworkers calling out over some family emergency for the 5th time in two weeks. While you understood people had stressful lives working alone until closing was awful in this area, especially on a Friday night.

With a huff you quickly close out the register, seal up the money earned, then drop it in the safe in the back office. Taking one last glance around you, smile as your timer goes off. While you did not appreciate doing this work alone, you were rather fast at it. You walk over to your phone, swipe off the final timer then head over to the company computer to clock out. Your punch reads OUT: 10:48PM making your grumble, the store had closed back at 9PM. A huge sigh escapes your lips as you come to terms with it being partytime on the streets at the moment. Tons of people would be bar hopping right now, and your tiny apartment happened to be next to a long string of bars.

As you reluctantly lock yourself out of the cafe's front door, and safely, then face the darkening street. You can already hear the distant thump of music and the buzz of tipsy laughter floating through the cool night air. Immediately, a drunk man bumps into your arm, muttering something about his kids but continues on without speaking to you. You stare at the man making sure he doesn’t turn around. With a soft huff you glare at nothing in particular, fully annoyed at the world before setting a steady pace to your home. There was a small part of you that would love to sit down and drink with someone, but your solo shift zapped away all of your energy, and you had no one to call. So now, all you want now is a hot shower, some snacks, and the comfort of your bed.

After several minutes of walking down the poorly-lit sidewalk you finally see the street your modest second-floor apartment resides on. However as you get closer, the louder the party sounds become. Groups of rowdy bar patrons stumble past, a small handful spill their drinks while loudly sharing drunk stories. Your spine stiffens as you prepare to enter the fray. While you didn’t think anyone would bother you, it has happened several times- and each time ended with the police being called to walk you the rest of the way home.

With a deep breath you step forward and march into the crowd, trying to blend in. You weave, and dodge a few hands that come your way with ease, after all, most of them were already piss drunk. You glance up, noting the bar you are passing, 10 left to go. You step over a man's legs as he lays on the ground, mumbling to himself, and this seems to be where your smooth travels end. While looking down at the man’s legs you do not notice the man walking right at you, likely assuming you would move- and slam into him. The collision was enough to make you blink, and feel a bit dazed but his hand snapped you back to reality. You look at the man confused, even angry as he grabs your forearm with enough force to make your body curve down- trying to relieve pressure.

"Hey, fucking watch where you're goin’!" the man slurs, his grip tightening on your arm. You wince, trying to pull away, but his strength holds you in place.

"I'm sorry." you mutter, not wanting to escalate the situation. "I didn’t see you."

His blood shot eyes narrow as he looks you up and down. "Wait a minute," he says, swaying slightly. "Don't I know you from somewhere?" Your heart races as you scan the crowd, hoping someone will notice and intervene. But everyone seems lost in their own drunken revelry.

"No, I don't think so." you say firmly, attempting to twist your arm free. "I need to get home. Please let me go." you beg, trying to appeal to his better nature, but finding nothing.

“No, I have seen you before. Are you a pornstar?” He asks with a wide grin, pulling you in close. The smell of his breath makes you retch and you attempt to yank free again.

“No, get the fuck off of me!” You nearly spit at him, focusing on removing his hand. The impact of his slap does free you, but not as you had hoped. The size difference between you and him becomes all the more apparent as your body hits the ground. Your head wobbles on your shoulder as you struggle to get your bearings back. Just as your mind got less foggy his arm was back on your forearm, dragging you into the alley around the corner.

Panic surges through you as the man drags you deeper into the alley, away from the crowded street. Your heart pounds in your ears, drowning out the sounds of the nearby bars. You struggle against his grip, legs finally back into position enough to slow him down, but his drunken state seems to have only amplified his strength.

"Let go!" you shout, hoping someone will hear you over the noise of the nightlife. Tears are spilling down your cheeks as he laughs, digging his blunt nails into your arm.

“To think I have a moment with my favorite pornstar!” He rambles to himself, already jingling the buckle of his pants. Horror washes over you. You knew these things could happen- sometimes, awful people happen. But you didn’t want these things happening, not if you could help it. You stomp on the man's foot as hard as possible, and yell at him all while yanking the arm he was holding towards your own body.

For a moment it felt like your efforts would be rewarded but all it did was make him angry. The second slap feels closer to a punch. For a brief moment it feels like your head might fall off. You crash into the concrete wall behind you groaning out in pain. Your vision blurs as your head throbs from the impact. The world spins, and for a moment, you think you might pass out.

The sound of a zipper is what begins to make the bile shift in your stomach. Your arms hug against your body, overwhelmed by the physical pain and mental trauma happening at the same time.

“Please, don’t-” was all you got out before a blur of orange, and the man hit the ground. The sound that left your attacker's mouth was horrifying. Your attacker wails for a moment before he starts to gurgle. A tall man with black hair, and green eyes stares down at your attacker with a look you’ve never seen before. He looked far too calm for a man choking another human being with enough force to possibly kill. Your attackers fingers reached out for you seeking aid, making you squirm- did you really care if this man died? You looked back at your violent defender, and spoke before thinking.

“Um, I think he’s trying to tap out.” You offer while watching your attacker struggle unsuccessfully against the man's head lock. To your surprise the defender smirks and squeezes harder.

“Nah, better if he naps all this off.” His voice is deeper than you thought, his cadence was oddly relaxed despite holding a large struggling man in his grip.

You watch in stunned silence as your attacker's struggles grow weaker, his movements becoming sluggish until finally, his body goes limp. The stranger releases his hold, letting the unconscious man fall face first to the ground. He turns to face you, his green eyes now scanning you.

"Rough night." he states casually, his voice softer now. "Did he hurt you?"

You nod, still trembling from the ordeal. "I think I'm okay. Just shaken up." Your cheek stings where you were struck, and your head throbs from hitting the wall, but you didn’t think he would care all that much, considering he just dropped a man on his face.

The stranger takes a step closer, his hands raised slightly as if to show he means no harm. "Names Togame Jo. Figured you needed a hand." He reaches down, latching onto your arm.

Normally you’d love his attention, he was incredibly attractive, but right now your nerves were shot. As he hoists you off the ground a hiss leaves your lips and you push his arm away. “Watch it.” You hadn’t meant to be so rude but the arm he had grabbed was extremely tender, all your adrenaline long gone. His posture switches immediately, his full height suddenly looming over you as he steps in close. For a moment it looks like he will slap you like the man before him, but instead his fingers grip your wrist, pulling you arm towards himself, he examines your forearm with a frown.

Togame's frown deepens as he inspects the bruises forming on your arm. His touch is surprisingly gentle as he turns your wrist, examining the damage.

"Bastard really did a number on you." he mutters, his green eyes flicking up to meet yours. "You need medical attention?"

You shake your head, wincing slightly at the movement. "No, I'll be fine. I just want to go home."

Togame nods, releasing your arm. "I'll walk you there." he offers, though it felt like an unrefusable offer.

For a moment, you hesitate- weighing the risks. After what just happened, the idea of trusting a stranger seems foolish. But something about Togame Jo's demeanor puts you at ease. Maybe it's the way he effortlessly took down your attacker, or the gentleness in his touch as he examined your injuries. Whatever it is, you find yourself nodding.

"It's not far." you say, gesturing vaguely down the street. "Just a few more blocks."

Togame falls into step beside you as you leave the alley, his tall frame creating a buffer between you and the rowdy crowds still milling about. You can't help but notice how people seem to give him a wide berth, their eyes darting away when they catch sight of him. Once you had calmed down more things made sense. His jersey was famous around these parts. While you didn’t know who he was specifically, the Shishitoren emblem was unmistakable.

"So," Togame says after a few moments of silence, "what's a nice person like you doing out so late in this neighborhood?"

You sigh, rubbing your sore cheek. "I just got off work.”

"Work, huh?" Togame raises an eyebrow, his green eyes glinting with curiosity. "Must be a late shift."

You nod, feeling a mix of exhaustion and lingering anxiety wash over you. "Yeah, I work at the cafe a few blocks back. Had to close up alone tonight."

Togame whistles low. "Tough gig. Especially in this area."

As you walk, you can't help but steal glances at your unexpected savior. His relaxed demeanor contrasts sharply with the dangerous aura he exudes. You wonder what kind of life he leads, being part of the notorious Shishitoren.

"So," you venture, curiosity getting the better of you, "do you often rescue people in dark alleys?"

A smirk plays at the corner of Togame's lips. "Only the cute ones," he quips, then chuckles at your startled expression. "Nah, I was just in the right place at the right time."

You feel a blush creep up your neck, unsure how to respond to his casual flirtation. "Well, thank you," you pause for a moment, reliving the hits to your face all over again. "I appreciate your help.” You manage to mumble out. He smiles, humming back in response.

As you approach your apartment building, a sense of relief washes over you. The familiar sight of the worn brick facade and flickering porch light feels like a sanctuary after the night's ordeal. You pause at the bottom of the steps, turning to face Togame.

"This is me." you say, gesturing towards the building. "Thanks again for walking me home."

Togame nods, his green eyes scanning the area before settling back on you. "No problem. You gonna be alright from here?"

You hesitate, suddenly aware of how empty and quiet your apartment will be. The events of the night replay in your mind, sending a shiver down your spine. "Yeah, I'll be fine," you lie, forcing a smile.

Togame's eyebrow quirks up, clearly not buying your act. "You sure about that? You look like you could use some company."

Your heart races at his suggestion. Part of you wants to invite him up, to not be alone with your thoughts. But another part reminds you that he's still a stranger, albeit one who saved you.

"I don't know..." you start, uncertainty filling your voice.

Togame holds up his hands, a disarming smile on his face. "Hey, no pressure. Just thought you might want someone to talk to after all that. But if you'd rather be alone, I get it."

You bite your lip, weighing the options. The thought of facing the empty apartment alone suddenly seems unbearable. "Actually, care for a drink?" you ask sheepishly.

Togame's eyes light up, a hint of surprise in his expression. "Wouldn't say no." he says with a casual shrug, but you catch the subtle eagerness in his tone.

You lead him up the creaky stairs to your second-floor apartment, fumbling slightly with your keys as you unlock the door. The familiar scent of home washes over you as you step inside, bringing a sense of comfort after the night's chaos.

"It's not much." you say, flicking on the lights and gesturing around the modest space, "but it's home."

Togame follows you in, his tall frame comically filling up the small living room. His green eyes scan the space, taking in the mismatched furniture and the small collection of plants on the windowsill. "It's cozy, I like it." he says, a hint of approval in his voice.

You head to the kitchen, grateful for the chance to collect yourself. "Make yourself comfortable." you call over your shoulder. "What's your poison?"

"Whatever you're having," Togame replies, settling onto your worn couch.

You pull two beers from the fridge, popping the caps off before returning to the living room. Togame accepts the bottle with a small nod, his fingers brushing yours as he takes it. The brief contact sends images of his hands on you, reminding you of how long it's been since you got laid.

You sit beside him on the couch, leaving a respectable distance between you. An awkward silence falls between you both, the room suddenly smaller than you remembered from this morning.

As you sip your beer, you can't help but steal glances at Togame. He was certainly taller than the average man, and his arms will thick as hell. You notice his eyes roaming over the various knick-knacks and photos adorning your walls.

"So," Togame says, breaking the silence, "you always invite strange men up to your apartment after they rescue you?"

You choke a little on your beer, caught off guard by his directness. "No," you sputter out, "this is definitely a first."

Togame chuckles, a deep rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. "I'm honored." he says with a wink.

You feel your cheeks flush and quickly take another swig of beer to hide your reaction. "What about you?" you ask, trying to regain your composure. "Do you often end up in strangers' apartments after playing hero?"

"Nah," Togame replies, leaning back into the couch. "Usually I'm the one people are running from, not towards."

His casual admission of his dangerous reputation should probably alarm you, but instead, you find yourself intrigued. "Because of Shishitoren?" you ask, gesturing to his jersey.

Togame's eyes narrow slightly, a flicker of something dangerous passing over his face before his relaxed demeanor returns. "You know about us, huh?"

You shrug, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "Not much, really. Just that you guys have a reputation around here."

Togame's expression softens, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "A reputation, huh? Well, can't say it's undeserved." He takes a long swig of his beer, his gaze never leaving yours. "But tonight, I'm just a guy having a drink with a cute barista. That alright with you?"

Your heart skips a beat at his words. The way he looks at you makes you feel seen in a way you haven't in a long time. "Yeah." you say softly, "that's alright with me."

As the night wears on, you find yourself relaxing more in Togame's presence. The conversation flows easily, ranging from your work at the cafe to his vague allusions to life in Shishitoren. You can't help but be drawn in by his charisma, the way his green eyes light up when he laughs, the casual grace with which he moves.

Before you know it, you're on your third beer, a pleasant warmth spreading through your body. The events from earlier in the night feel distant now, like a bad dream fading in the light of day. You find yourself studying Togame's profile as he recounts a particularly funny story about a misunderstanding at a local ramen shop.

"What?" he asks, catching you staring at his arms.

"Nothing," you say, a little too quickly.

Togame's lips curl into a knowing smirk. "Admiring the view?" he teases, flexing his arm slightly.

You feel your face flush, equal parts embarrassment and attraction. "Maybe." You admit, the alcohol makes you bolder than usual. "You did use those arms to save me earlier."

Togame's smirk widens into a grin. "Well, they're not just for show," he says, leaning in closer. His voice drops lower, sending a shiver down your spine. "Want a closer look?"

Your breath catches in your throat as he closes the distance between you on the couch. The warmth radiating from his body makes your skin tingle with anticipation. You find yourself nodding, unable to form words as Togame's hand gently cups your cheek.

"You sure about this?" he murmurs, his thumb tracing your jawline. "After everything that happened tonight..."

The concern in his eyes touches you, melting away any lingering reservations. "I'm sure." you whisper, leaning into his touch.

Togame's lips meet yours in a kiss that starts soft but quickly deepens with intensity. His strong arms wrap around you, pulling you flush against his chest. You lean into the embrace, your fingers tangling in his dark hair as the kiss grows more passionate.

When you finally break apart, both breathing heavily, Togame rests his forehead against yours. "Damn," he says with a low chuckle. "If I'd known saving cute baristas led to this, I'd have done it sooner."

You laugh deeply enjoying his charming banter."Well, I'm glad it was me you saved." you reply, tracing patterns on his chest through his shirt.

Togame's eyes fill with desire as he watches your fingers trail across his chest. In one fluid motion, he pulls you onto his lap, his strong hands gripping your hips. "Me too." he murmurs, his lips finding the sensitive spot on your neck.

A soft gasp escapes you as he trails kisses down your neck and collar bone. Your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling him closer. The solid warmth of his body against yours makes you feel safe and wanted in a way you haven't experienced in a long time.

"Togame." you breathe, arching into him as his hands slip under your shirt, caressing the bare skin of your lower back.

He pulls back slightly, his green eyes dark searching your face. "You okay?" he asks slowly, his thumbs tracing circles on your hips. "We can stop if you want."

The tenderness in his voice, contrasting with the dangerous aura he exudes, makes the heat in your core double. You cup his face in your hands, marveling at how someone who had so effortlessly taken down your attacker could be so gentle with you.

"Just, fuck me." you demand of him, leaning in to capture his lips in another kiss.

A low growl rumbles in Togame's chest as he stands suddenly, lifting you with him. Your legs wrap instinctively around his waist as he carries you towards the bedroom, his strong arms support you effortlessly. He kicks the door closed behind him then gently lowers you onto the bed, his body hovering over yours.

"You're sure about this?" he asks one last time, his green eyes searching yours intently.

You nod, pulling him closer. "Stop asking." you breathe against his lips before kissing him deeply.

Togame responds with fervor, his hands roaming your body as he settles between your legs. You tug at his shirt, eager to feel his skin against yours. He breaks the kiss just long enough to pull it off, revealing a toned chest marked with a few light scattered scars.

Your fingers trace the lines of his muscles, marveling at the strength contained within. Togame watches your hands explore, his eyes darkening with desire. He makes quick work of your own shirt, his calloused hands gentle as they map your newly exposed skin.

"Beautiful." he murmurs, pressing hot kisses along your collarbone.

You arch into him, gasping as his lips find an extra sensitive spot on your neck. Your hands tangle in his hair again, holding him close as he lavishes attention upon you. The rest of your clothes soon join the pile on the floor, leaving nothing between your bodies.

Togame takes his time, his touches alternating between gentle caresses and firm grasps that leave you breathless. His touch is electric, sending shivers down your spine and igniting a fire between your legs.

"Jo." you gasp, arching into him as his mouth finds your breast. He leaves hot kisses along your skin, sending sparks of pleasure through you. His hand trails down your stomach, teasing at the curve of your thighs. You spread your legs wider, silently begging for more.

He lifts his head, making eye contact with a smirk. "Tell me what you want." he commands, his fingers tracing tantalizing patterns on your inner thigh.

"You." you breathe, pulling him closer. "I want you inside me."

A low growl rumbles in Togame's chest as he positions himself between your legs. He enters you slowly, giving you time to adjust to his size. You moan at the delicious stretch, your nails digging into his shoulders.

"Fuck," Togame groans, his forehead resting against your shoulder as he stills inside you. "You feel amazing."

While his size was impressive, years of self care had prepared you for him. A moan fills the room as your body accepts him with ease. You wanted to share also how incredible he felt but all you could focus on was his cock spreading you wide. Instead you roll your hips, urging him to move.

Togame takes the hint, setting a steady rhythm that has you gasping with each thrust. His strong hands grip your hips, pulling you closer with each movement. The room fills with the sounds of your shared pleasure, soft moans and gasps mingling with the rustle of sheets.

Togame's powerful body moves against yours, his hips rolling in a hypnotic rhythm. You cling to his broad shoulders, loving the sensations coursing through you. His lips find yours in a passionate kiss as he drives deeper, hitting just the right spot to make you cry out in pleasure against his lips.

"That's it." he murmurs against your neck, his breath hot on your skin. "Let me hear you."

You moan louder, unashamed as waves of pleasure wash over you. Togame's pace increases, his movements becoming more urgent. You can feel yourself getting close, teetering on the edge of release.

Togame's pace increases, driving deeper into you with each thrust. You wrap your legs around his waist, changing the angle and crying out as he hits a spot that sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

"Right there," you pant, your fingers digging into his back. "Don't stop."

Togame grunts in acknowledgment, his rhythm becoming more intense. You can feel the tension building to a breaking point, a coiling heat in your core that threatens to snap any second.

"Jo, I'm close," you gasp, your body trembling beneath him. “Fuckfuckfuckfuck” you mutter, barely able to keep yourself together.

He slides a hand between your bodies, his rough fingers press into your clit, rubbing in tandem with his thrust. The added stimulation pushes you over the edge harshly. You cry out Togame's name as waves of pleasure crash into you, your body arching off the bed. The sight of your pleasure sends Togame over the edge as well. He buries his face in your neck, groaning deeply as he finds his own release inside you. Normally, you’d yell at a man for not asking to come inside you but just this once you’d let it go- after all he was your hero.

For a moment, you both lie there, breathing heavily, bodies intertwined. Togame presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before carefully pulling out and collapsing beside you. He gathers you into his arms, your head resting on his chest.

"Fuck, I needed that." you puff out, still catching your breath.

"Same." Togame chuckles softly, his chest rumbling beneath your cheek. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your back, sending pleasant tingles across your skin. You lie there in comfortable silence for a few moments, basking in the afterglow.

You nuzzle closer, inhaling his scent - a mix of his exertion, and cologne. It reminded you of fresh brewed black tea and musk. If you were honest, you hoped his scent would linger on your sheets for a while, it was intoxicating.

"So," you venture, propping yourself up on an elbow to look at Togame. "Does this mean I get protection from the notorious Shishitoren now?"

His green eyes sparkle with amusement. "Careful what you wish for." he teases, his fingers tapping the bottom of your chin, "Once you're under our protection, there's no going back."

You lean into his touch, a small smile playing on your lips. "Promise?"

Togame's expression turns serious for a moment. "I can."

"I wouldn’t mind seeing you around." you reply softly, thinking of the long hours and difficult walk home every Friday night.

Togame's eyes shift at your words, but his face is unreadable. He pulls you closer, his lips brushing against your cheek. "I wouldn't mind that either." he murmurs.

You settle back against his chest, feeling safe. The events of the night - the fear, the violence, and now this unexpected connection - swirl in your mind. Part of you wonders if you're making a mistake, getting involved with someone like Togame Jo. But as his strong arms wrap around you, you find it hard to care.

"So," you say, tracing patterns on his chest "do I get a cool jacket like yours?"

Togame laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Nah, the jacket's for members only. But you’ll get my protection." he pauses, his hand running up and down your arm. "It means no one messes with you. Not if they know what's good for them."

You shiver at the hint of danger in his voice, completely thrilled by your new guard dog. "And what about you?" you ask, looking up to meet his gaze. "Will I be seeing more of you?"

Togame's lips curl into a smirk. "That can be arranged," he says, his hand sliding down to cup your ass. "Someone's gotta make sure you get home safe from those late shifts, right?"

"I'd like that." you murmur, a smile playing on your lips. The thought of Togame waiting for you after your late shifts makes you giddy.

He pulls you closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "Good. Because I'm not done with you yet."

His words ignite a fresh wave of desire in you. You shift, straddling his hips and looking down at him with a mischievous grin. "Oh really? And what did you have in mind?"

Togame's hands settle on your waist, his thumbs tracing circles on your skin. "Well," he says, his voice low and husky, "Let me show you a few more of my talents."

You lean down, your lips hovering just above his. "Show me what you’ve got." you tease, a smirk playing on your lips. Your hips grind down on his semi-hard cock, torturing him.

In one swift motion, Togame flips you onto your back, pinning your hands above your head. His green eyes are clouded with desire as he looks down at you. "Challenging me?"

Togame's sudden move catches you off guard, sending a buzz of excitement through your body. You gasp, looking up into his intense gaze. The weight of his body pressing you into the mattress makes your pussy wet again. Just the display of his strength makes your body ache for him.

"Maybe I am." you say breathlessly, a hint of defiance in your tone. "What are you going to do about it?"

A slow, dangerous smile spreads across Togame's face. "Oh, I've got a few ideas." he murmurs, his free hand trailing down your body. His touch is feather-light, teasing, making you squirm beneath him.

You arch into his touch, craving more. "Care to share?" you ask, your voice raw.

Instead of answering, Togame captures your lips in a wet kiss. His tongue explores your mouth as his hand continues its tantalizing journey down your body. When he reaches the valley of your thighs and rubs them gently, you moan into the kiss, spreading your legs wider in invitation.

Togame breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck. "Patience." he murmurs against your skin, nipping lightly at your collarbone. "I plan to take my time with you."

His words send a shiver down your spine. You tug at your pinned hands, wanting to touch him, but he holds firm. "Jo.." you whine, frustrated by his teasing.

Togame chuckles at your whine, his breath hot against your skin. "Ah ah, not yet." he murmurs, his free hand ghosting over your inner thigh. "I want to hear you beg for it."

His fingers trace patterns on your sensitive skin, purposefully avoiding where you need him most. You squirm beneath him, desperate for more contact. "Please!" you gasp, your hips lifting off the bed seeking friction.

"Please what?" Togame asks, his voice low and husky. His lips trail down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

"Touch me, please." you breathe, your body trembling with need. "Please, Jo, I need you."

Togame hums against your skin, considering your plea. "Since you asked so nicely." he says, finally releasing your hands.

Before you can react, he's sliding down your body, settling between your legs. His strong hands grip your thighs, spreading you wide. You prop yourself up on your elbows, watching with hooded eyes as he lowers his head. You had never had a man eat you out after he came inside you, but it was incredibly fucking hot Togame was unbothered by such filthy work.

The first swipe of his tongue against your sensitive clit has you crying out in pleasure. Togame's skilled mouth works you expertly, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention on your clit. Your hands fly to his hair, gripping tightly as waves of pleasure wash over you.

"Fuck, Jo.." you moan, your hips rolling against his face.

Togame's tongue works magic between your thighs, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. His strong hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he devours you with singular focus. You writhe beneath him, gasping and moaning as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

"Jo.." you pant, your fingers tangling in his dark hair. "I'm so close."

He hums against you, the vibration sending sparks of sensation through your dripping pussy. His tongue circles your clit with increased pressure, and you feel the tension building to a breaking point. Just as you're about to tumble over the edge, Togame pulls back, his tongue hovering just above you clit. You whimper at the loss of contact, your hips chasing his mouth unsuccessful.

"Not yet," he murmurs, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh. "I want more."

Before you can protest, he slides two fingers inside you, curling them to hit your g spot. His mouth returns to your clit, sucking gently as his fingers work you from the inside. The dual stimulation is overwhelming, and you feel yourself rapidly approaching climax once again.

"Please, fuck" you beg, not entirely sure what you're asking for. "Jo, please."

Togame's eyes lock with yours, dark with desire. "Come for me." he demands, his voice low and husky. His words, combined with the relentless attention of his mouth and fingers, send you careening over violently. Your thighs snap closed against his body, struggling against his still moving fingers. Your pants come out hard while your hands fly up to search for leverage. He chuckles as he continues to pump his fingers into your tender pussy.

Your body trembles with aftershocks as Togame slowly withdraws his fingers. He presses a gentle kiss to your inner thigh before moving back up your body. His lips capture yours in a deep kiss, letting you taste a bodily fluid cocktail on his tongue.

"Fuck." you pant when he finally pulls away, still breathless from your intense orgasm.

"Doing alright?" Togame finishes with a smirk, his green eyes still mischievous. He positions himself between your legs, the hard length of his cock pressing against your sensitive flesh.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "Never better, I got all night." you challenge, with a cheeky grin.

Togame's response is to thrust into you in one smooth motion, filling you completely. You both groan at the sensation, your bodies fitting together perfectly.

He sets a brutal rhythm, each thrust going deeper than the last. His hands find your thighs and press them down hard against your body. The man was putting you into a full mating press and it was glorious. Your mind was beginning to blur, completely overworked by your moans, panting, and the pressure from his heavy body.

Togame's powerful thrusts drive you into the mattress, each movement sending shockwaves of pleasure and pain through your overstimulated body. The new angle allows him to hit spots deep inside you that make your toes curl and your vision blur. Your hands scramble for purchase on his sweat-slicked back as you struggle to match his intense rhythm.

"You feel so fucking good." Togame grunts, his voice strained with effort. His green eyes are glassy as they lock onto yours, watching every expression of pleasure that crosses your face.

You can barely form coherent thoughts, let alone words. Each thrust pushes you in a direction of an orgasm you don’t think is reachable. "Jo" you manage to gasp out, "I can’t.." your words are cut off by an incredibly hard thrust.

His hips slam against yours with bruising force. His long body arches towards you, for a moment you think he is going to kiss you but instead his teeth sink into the tender flesh of your neck. He laps at the bite, groaning with abandon while finding a new place to sink his teeth into.

The dual stimulation becomes too much. With a cry that's almost a scream, you come undone beneath him. Your body arches off the bed, trembling violently as waves of intense pleasure crash over you again. Togame doesn't let up, fucking you through your orgasm, and prolonging the sensation until tears begin to form in your water line.

Your vision blurs as the intense orgasm washes away all thoughts, and leaves your body trembling uncontrollably beneath Togame's powerful form. He continues to thrust into you relentlessly, drawing out his pleasure but pushing you to almost unbearable heights.

"That's it," he growls, his voice ragged. "Take it all." he moans out

You cling to him desperately, your nails digging into his damp back as you try relaxing into his thrusts. Just when you think you can't take anymore, Togame's rhythm falters. With a deep groan, he buries himself to the hilt inside you, his body shuddering as he finds his own release.

For a long moment, you both lie there panting, bodies intertwined and slick with sweat. Togame's weight presses you into the mattress making it difficult to breathe. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before slowly pulling out and collapsing beside you.

"Fuck." you breathe, still trying to catch your breath. Your body feels boneless, pleasantly sore in all the right places, and some areas a bit less pleasant. Togame chuckles, pulling you against his chest. "Might have to save you nightly." he groans into your neck. His tongue laps out again, soothing the deep bites he had placed in your neck, which were already forming shiny red and purple spots.

You nuzzle into his warmth, feeling utterly spent but enjoying his mouth's attention. "I think you broke me." you mumble against his skin, only half-joking.

Togame chuckles, his chest rumbling against you. "Nah, you're tougher than that." he says, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your back. You smile, nodding in agreement with his assessment of you, granted your sore cervix had different opinions.

As your breathing slows and your heartbeat returns to normal, a comfortable silence falls between you. Togame's hand continues its gentle caress along your spine, occasionally drifting to brush against the marks he left on your neck.

"So," you murmur after a while, tilting your head to look up at him. "Is this a one-time thing, or...?"

Togame's green eyes meet yours, a hint of vulnerability flashing across his face before his usual confident smirk returns. "Depends," he says, his voice low. "You want it to be?"

You consider his question, weighing the potential complications against the undeniable connection you feel with him. "No," you admit softly. "I'd like to see you again."

Relief flickers in Togame's eyes, quickly masked by a playful grin. "Good," he says, pulling you closer. "Because I wasn't planning on letting you go that easily."

#wind breaker #togame jo #jo togame #shishitoren #togame jo x reader #fanfic #togame jo smut #smut

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ryanisasleep · 1 year ago

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Im dying for some Nikto x Male Reader :'( There's nothing out there for me. Can I request, Nikto with a Cocky and Arrogant S/O? Can Be SFW or NSFW Thank you ❤️

Nikto x male!reader

(I hope I satisfied it as best as I could <33)

TW: hate sex with feelings and happy ending, insults, brusing.

Ok so if you don't like this, you can block this account and nothing more.

Requests are open if you were wondering :)

Btw I changed a bit the story so it is better in some parts

Ohhhhhhh you made me think of hate sex…god I have a good fucking small story inside my stupid head….raaaaaawwww Gnawing the bars of my enclosure. Btw you are too kind :( there you go ‘boops their head’ you will be 🤍anon.

Hate you…or do I?

NSFW so MDNI - Hate sex, swearing, fighting, blood, sex with hidden feelings

Nikto enjoys seeing your cocky attitude falter as he spits blood on your self esteem and walks over your decisions saying that they are clouded by your arrogant judgment and are not safe to be considered even remotely efficient. . .you thought that being the same rank as him and having relatively the same experiences could be of some help when shaming him all day before crossing eachother’s path and growling at the mere presence of the other.

The situation escalated when he began to push you into any wall anytime he could and bruising your mouth by roughly kissing it with his teeth while digging his nails into your clothed waist. You on the other hand tried doing the same as you weren’t going down without a fight, and managed to dig some bloody cuts on his shoulders. It continued like this; bickering sessions ended up with bruised lips and trembling legs trying to push the other away to regain some dignity.

The hate and tension reached its peak when Nikto ended up pushing you into your bed and digging his teeth into your bottom lip drawing out blood and insults. He ripped off your clothes and you did the same. Some blood and bruises were forming on your bodies but that was a matter for the after.

He wanted to say ‘You did good on the last mission’ instead of ‘You fucker, you failed everything and you couldn’t even do a simple task’ as he scratched forcefully your broad back after pinching the fresh healed wounds on your torso drawing out a silent scream out your mouth. ‘Thanks for your presence and for covering my back- back there’ ‘Shut your virgin ass since you don’t do any better, at least I am a liked person around’, you flipped your positions. Now you were on top of him with your legs pressed between his and you were clamping your teeth down on his neck. It hurt a lot. . .and Nikto couldn’t accept that, his pride was too big and high to let you on him and in a swift move he turned you down on the mattress, ‘You are only good at taking it up the ass! Moron, you should have been a stripper at this point! A failed one because I bet my salary that you wouldn't even grab the attention of a drunken man ahah!’

Spit drooled out his mouth like a carnivore savoring his newly catched prey. He didn’t want to admit it but…he really wanted to see you like that again. He was lost in his own world for a while and got back to his senses after you barked back a cocky:

‘At least I am useful to something, unlike you who can only bark out orders like a certain Colonel I know and be like an angry volcano all the goodamn fucking time!' your voice was restrained as you couldn’t quiet breath since a strong hand was holding you - choking you in the messy bed.

You then yelped out in stinking pain, he sticked his fingers inside you without a warning and without an ounce of lube, such as spit. The stretch was hurtful and you hated how good the pads of his pointer and middle fingers worked around your sensible spot, fucking and overstimutaling it till you were just panting out short breaths and trying to get up on your elbows, to then try to shove the one you looked up the most off. He pushed you down again, this time forcing your neck down and letting breathing become harder, he took away his fingers and pushed your ass up. You could sense his eyes wander to all of your upper and lower back imaging all the thoughts that might be crossing his filthy and rotted brain. You hear his belt unbuckle and the low but intriguing squelches from his fingers taking some of his saliva out the mouth (you really wanted to devour that mouth harshly) and wetting down his cock.

He pushed his length inside without a warning and he grunted out at the sudden enveloping sensation trying his hardest not to bottom out. You wanted to tell him how good it felt, how much you wanted to have his hand prints on your body and how much you wanted your neck to be bruised with his teeth marks and fingers, but only a stream of curses came out of your mouth. He rams into you, mounting you and keeping you close in seemingly fear of you going away, your cock brushing repeatedly the wooly sheets creating a friction that makes you see stars and finish immediately without a warning. After a couple of more seconds he comes into you grunting like an animal, securing you under his crushing weight. He had his eyes closed, his mask long since thrown away in some part of the room and all his features visible.

You saw the burn mark on the right side covering the skin until his eye and the long slash dividing his mouth from the left. You loved him, well love was there but you couldn’t phrase it, you wanted to put your hand under his chin but all you could ever do was to choke him if possible. He feels the same, his heart swells with pain as you twooften brawl but he can't, it's too hard. Nikto wants to try and sew your situationship back to ‘’normality’’ but his voices tell him otherwise, to do anything other than good.

He stays a shameful silent. After some time of not deciding what to do, he rolled to the side and heard the aftermath still inside you and wrapped his arms around your waist.

He knows that now you will get up, clean yourself up and leave while giving him a disgusting look because you have no reason to stay, but that was not what he wanted. His stupid brain couldn’t voice his wants and needs and that resulted in the formation of this vicious cycle of this love-hate relationship. He loved you dearly, but he could only spit out venom because he didn’t know how to phrase what he felt.

Instead of letting his grip loose, he started rubbing small circles on your firm stomach feeling your toned muscle fibers underneath, the veins going under adorned the neatly taken care of hair forming a nice happy trail. You hated not shaving them so they were always short.

He put one of his hands at the center of your chest and passed his fingers between your body hair, sweaty from before, and noticed that your heart rate was very calm, calmer than it should’ve been. He inhaled your scent from the nape of your neck and reopened his eyes as he whispered an almost sad ‘’Don’t leave, please’’.

You shifted, embracing the hand on your lower stomach with your own and sighed. ‘’Why…” you were tired, tired of all of this so you decided to be patient and hear what he had to say.

All he could think of and speak was ‘’Just. . .don’t please.’’ His hands twitched, you knew that sign, he was struggling internally and maybe making some of his thoughts scram away. You took some pity on him and decided to stay as you even had no energy to get up.

A silent strange air hugged you two while he rested, he began to tighten his grip and growl a ‘’Go away, fuck i hate you’’. He was not having this yet you sensed he didn’t really mean it. After he came back, he was different, you found himself many times talking to himself or gripping his forearms in anger so tightly that you swore blood was seeping out of the wounds but as you tried to help him and make him voice what was wrong, the answer you got was ‘’Fuck off’’.

He crawled back like a wounded animal and slipped out many words between voices and strangers taunting him every waking moment of the day. You and Nikto have been first colleagues and then close friends but as he began, over the years, that cycle of insults and unnecessary sparring, you couldn’t do anything else other than fight back.

“Easy there, it’s just us and no one else. you don’t need to do and say anything, remember only things you can touch and feel are real”

It was the mantra you had made him remember like a prayer in case his episodes were becoming too much, but they could only do so little. He repeated them whispering with a broken voice as he breathed heavily.

“Sorry, for everything…” he half cried as he lost the capacity to do so many years ago and sat hiding his eyes in his hands. You turned and looked at him with a sad look, you sat too and put your hand on his back and said “It’s fine”.

With that, you two looked at eachother with knowing looks, he said he loved you but also those parts of him did not, but he did. You said you loved him too and would help him with medications if needed and how to end things up. Being in a relationship was prohibited and could result in both of you being discharged with dishonor so being together was off limits.

The other people on base remained firm in believing that you two hated each other to the bone so you two decided to stick with that routine. Night fell quickly and you found yourself in his arms sleeping the night off. In the morning though, you had to wake up early to not raise suspects.

#x male reader #cod mw2 #cod x male reader #male reader #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod nikto #call of duty nikto #nikto x male reader #nikto #male x male #male reader insert

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