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deepfivetraveller · 3 months

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King Baldwin iv x Time!traveler!reader

chapter 2

Chapter 1

You get up from your bed and sit on the floor cross-legged. “System, I have the ability to by clothes from you right? Can you show me a few of the clothes available at your store?”

Sadly Miss Y/n, when I meant you can buy clothes through me, I meant you can buy the fabrics only. It showed you a plethora of fabrics, ranging from cheap cotton to colourful silk.

Now this is annoying. You might have basic skills to stitch a button and all but making an entire dress from scratch? Yeah, that’s impossible. Not to mention tailoring machines don’t even exist. Now you have no choice but to buy from traders

When you began your mission the system gave you some money as an achievement for starting the main quest, which was more than enough to rent a room at the inn. But now that you have a place to sleep for some time you should probably start thinking about how to finish that small side quest you started.

After calculating the benefits and losses of the decision you’re about to make, you snap your fingers at the thrill of discovery and lean towards the screen. “System show me the food products you have available.” Within seconds it shows you all forms of food at the online shop. You scroll down a few times and find exactly what you’re looking for. Pepper, chilli powder, chat masala and many more spices were shown and you clicked buy,buy,buy on all of them. Considering the fact that most of the spices here weren’t even discovered in this timeline you have some faith that they will blow off in the market when you sell them.

I think I know what you’re gonna do to finish the side quest miss Y/n…

Last night

“Sadly this seems to be a bad time for you and your father to set up your shop madame.” The man held a cresset lamp, which illuminated the path while his wife helped you walk across.

“Why do you say so sir?” You’re confused. He seemed a bit hesitant to say this and signs his wife to reply.

“Many people in Jerusalem have been going sick. And it’s no ordinary sickness, no, people’s legs are getting swollen, they bleed at the slightest of injuries and the gums inside their mouth become tender to the point that their teeth start to fall off. Most doctors call it ‘The Barlow's disease’ or something along those lines but most of us just call it ‘The loosener of teeth’”

Yeesh that was a gruesome description. People here have less immunity as it is and something like this ain’t gonna help them much.

“Is it really that bad?” She nods a yes. “The sick have increased to a point where the king himself has taken notice. Although he has hired physicians from other lands to cure the sick, most of the people who have the sickness don’t have the money to visit them.” She sighs in defeat.

Wait a minute…Swollen gums? Falling teeth? Barlow's disease? You’ve studies about this before in history class, it’s scurvy! It affects people with a lack of Vitamin C in their diet that is, sailors and the poor. It can be cured simply by eating food which has the vitamin. A wave of relief washes you since you definitely won't be getting it.

“I don’t think it’ll be a problem anymore madame.” You smile softly while the screen shows a pop up.

Side quest unlocked! Cure all people in Jerusalem from Scurvy.

Present

The stall for your shop was quickly set up, partially because the last owner just left the shop as it is. Within some time, all the spices were neatly displayed. By looking at other shops it was easy to decorate your own and it’s safe to say, yours was the most organised. It was extravagant, but not extravagant enough to drive the common people away.

Good job Miss Y/n! I’ll help you in whatever way I can to make the mission easy for you. I’ll try my best to get a discount on the rates in my store so you won't have to spend too much money on this!

“Thank you screen, that’ll help a lot. Honestly I’m doing it mostly for the money I’ll get after completing the side quest.” You remark while the screen giggles with its emoticon mouth. “By the way, just refer to me as Y/n. Miss Y/n feels too formal. Talk to me casually! You’re the only person that connects me to my time anyway.” You dryly chuckle, looking at the containers sadly. Even now you’re mind is not able to comprehend the fact that you’re in the past. It’s still trying to convince you, you’re in a foreign rural village.

“Excuse me.” you look at the young girl standing in front of your shop. “Do you have any pepper available?” So cute! She has such chubby cheeks too!

But immediately you notice her teeth. They look like as if they are about to fall; multiple of them. Her gums are also swollen, indicating she has the disease. So that's why her cheeks are chubby! Now you feel kinda bad for thinking its cute. “Yes we do darling how much do you want?”

“About 2 Livre (pounds) please.” She waited as you wrapped it up for her. “Do you wish to pay with your money or win it for free in a contest?” She squints her eyes. “Contest?”

With a bright smile you say “Yes a contest! This contest is an eating contest that only the people with Barlow's disease can contest in.” You show her a plate filled with oranges. “If the person is able to eat these oranges before the hourglass stops the person gets whatever they wish to buy for free! Remember, the more you want to buy, the more amount of fruit you have to eat.” You point out. At first you were a bit worried whether the girl would openly admit she has the disease since it’s considered shameful to openly admit a person is sick, but considering how her mouth was watering when she looked at the oranges, it was quite easy to determine she’d do anything for free food.

“W-Well…” She lifts her skirt a bit to show her swollen legs. “I have the sickness. Can I contest? If so, will my name be revealed for having the sickness??” Oh my god her cuteness is crushing your heart! “Oh no dear, nobody’s name shall be revealed, winner or participant. Do you want to contest?”

The girl nods vigorously as you set up the hourglass. The moment you tell her to start, she shoves all the slices of oranges into her mouth, making her choke. You panic and tell her to spit it out but she ignores your pleas and swallows them all, making her oesophagus hurt from the pressure.

You shift your demeanour and hand the pepper over to her. “C-Congrats! You won the contest! You can have this for free.”

She however is in a state of shock. To get good quality food for free is a miracle, a gift from God really.

“Did I…really win this?”

“Yes love you did! What you ate was quite a large amount too. Well done!” It wasn’t. You calculated time and time again this morning to get the orange slices proportional to the food they were buying in such a way that anyone with weak teeth could win it. You even used the son of the man and wife you met at first as a guinea pig, by making him eat them in the name of ‘A thank you gift.’ His sickness decreased drastically and his teeth became strong sometime after the meal, which was quite startling to see since you’ve never seen anyone recover that fast.

The little girl looked at you with doe eyes. “Can I contest again?”

“No love, a person gets only one chance per day. You can come tomorrow to try!”

“I will!” She squeaks. “I loved that fruit too. It’s flavour was unlike anything i’ve eaten, being sweet and tangy at the same time.” Damn it's hard to believe she was even able to taste it after seeing the way she shoved it in her mouth. “I’ll come again tomorrow to try nice lady!”

“Spread a good word for me!” You yell as she waves goodbye. It didn’t take much time for your shop to go popular.You told about this contest to anyone who entered your shop. Many were disgusted at the fact the sick have come here but others saw this as an opportunity to get free food. The sick came to you in disguise at first but within the span of four days they didn’t even hide their sickness anymore. People started viewing your shop as a clinic at some point, an they started lining up, some even carrying family members who’ve lost their ability to walk.

It got to the point where all of this was happening at a loss, so the best course of action was to sell the oranges to other fruit traders. It not only gave you a huge profit but also made sure the cure was spread to all corners of Jerusalem. Your oranges were rumoured to be ‘The miracle cure’ so they sold out of shops within seconds. The poor still came to you for the free ones but the rich considered it a luxury product due to its high rates at shops. Funny how these were the same people who were disgusted at your idea at first.

Within one and a half months the sick decreased drastically. Your name became popular which worried you alot since you’re probably under the radar of assassins or someone more dangerous. Your quest too was finished, and the system gave you a heep of money which was enough to buy a moderately big home. While people were being cured, your anxiety surged more and more. You were certain your life was under a threat.

One faithful day while you were instructing the new employees on how to take care of the shop, the crowd became silent. They made way for a bunch of men on horses. It was the crusaders.

Everyone including you bowed slightly as they made an announcement.

“Madame Y/n, the king has noticed your efforts on eradicating the Barlow's disease. He has decided to meet you at the royal court to thank you properly. We shall be heading there NOW.” Two guards came up to you and dragged you inside a carriage like vehicle, which was poorly made.

This wasn’t an invitation to give you rewards. The KING himself has decided you’re a witch and has demanded your presence in court, to decide how to execute you.

#king baldwin iv #kingdom of heaven #baldwin iv x oc #baldwin x reader #king baldwin x reader #baldwin of jerusalem #baldwin iv x reader #the leper king #koh fandom

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percervall · 4 months

Note

AHHH IVE BEEN SUMMONED! from smut prompt list 1 please my I please humbly request Jenson or Mark with smut prompt 4 pretty please

Okay love you byeeeeee ❤️❤️❤️

Had to go the mafia route for you babe, big thank you to @feralnando for helping me plot this

warning: injury details, mafia!Mark, cockwarming

You had no idea what your husband did for work. It’s not that you didn’t have your suspicions, but Mark always made sure to keep you at an arm’s length when it came to how he ran his business. However, when he stumbles into the house leaning heavily on his second in command, you can’t ignore that he is involved with some bad people. The moment the door to the living room slams open, you shoot up from the couch like you just got bitten.

“Joder, you’re heavy,” Fernando complains as he drags Mark into the living room. Mark just grunts, a hand pressed against his ribs. It would have been a comical sight to see the smaller Spaniard pretty much bear the entirety of Mark’s weight if it weren’t for the bruises already forming on your husband’s jaw, and the skin peeking through the cuts in his dark button down.

“What happened?” you ask, rushing to help Fernando walk Mark over to the couch.

“Business deal got out of hand,” Mark utters through gritted teeth as he takes off his shirt. His chest and forearms are covered in cuts, a bandage taped to his ribs. You turn around to get the first aid kit so you can clean these wounds, but Mark grabs your wrist.

“It’s just a scratch, I’m fine.”

“Mark, you’re bleeding,” you protest, “You should see a doctor, these cuts need to be cleaned and dressed properly.”

“All I need, sweetheart, is you. Right here,” Mark replies, pulling you back towards him and into his lap. Fernando shakes his head, muttering something in Spanish before leaving the room. You gingerly move to straddle him, taking his face in your hands so you can assess the damage. Mark smiles softly, wrapping a hand around your wrist before pressing a kiss there.

“I promise baby, I’m fine. Just need my pretty girl,” he murmurs.

“Need me, huh?” you reply, swallowing hard as his eyes turn dark. Mark undoes his trousers before sliding a hand under the hem of your dress to pull your panties to the side.

“Will always need you, sweetheart,” he replies, pulling his dick out, “Just. Like. This. Fuck.” Mark grips your hips and slowly helps you sink down into him, making both of you moan. You rest your forehead against his, panting at the sudden stretch.

“So good, always so good..” Mark mumbles as he buries his face into your neck. Rocking your hips just ever so slightly, you can feel him groan against your skin while his hands still your movements.

“Mark-..” you start when you hear him wince.

“I’m fine, just wanna feel you baby..” he cuts you off, pressing open mouthed kisses against the base of your throat.

“I love you,” you sigh, running your fingers through his hair.

“I love you more, sweetheart,” he whispers against your skin and wraps an arm around you, anchoring you to him, as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear the moment he lets go.

#mark webber smut #mark webber x reader #mark webber x you #mafia!mark webber #mar's feral fics

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forlorn-crows · 8 months

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And You Know That It Takes Two

Rating: E for Explicit

Relationship(s): Copia/Dewdrop

Tags: transitional period between era iv and era v, banter, slice of life, first time, first kiss, handjobs. beta'd AND correctly translated italian!

Words: 3731

Summary: “Well, I do. Of course I do,” he assures the ghoul. “Quite fond of you all, actually. It was, admittedly, a little rocky when we first met. But.” There’s that heh Dew was expecting just moments before. “Here we are, no?”

When Copia starts rubbing his thumb up and down the inside of his knee, Dew’s brain stops working. His gaze zeros in to the fingers splayed across the side of his thigh, so foreign, so bare, so pink against the black of his casual uniform pants. His mind is full of static and all he can hear is his own blood pumping through his head. But there’s a weird something tugging in his ribcage; something new yet old, unnamed but familiar.

special thanks to @miasmaghoul for beta'ing and @foxybouquet for the italian translations ♡

EDIT: now with ART from the fabulous @noahl-art. merci beaucoup, nono!! find his full artwork here

Read on AO3 or under the cut:

Caro: dear

Stai bene?: (Are) you okay?

Ti piace?: Do you like this?/Does this feel good?

Merdaccia infernale: (roughly) infernal fucking shit. Closest to "unholy shit".

Proprio così: That’s it.

“D’you think Lucifer would want us to have black mass every Saturday?” Dew pokes the wooden arm of Copia’s chair with the toe of his boot. “Shouldn’t we be exercising our sinful wiles instead of listening to you drone on about the Dark One?”

Copia tugs on a scrap of paper trapped beneath the ghoul’s thigh. “You do plenty of that on your off time, my ghoul,” he teases. He looks over his reading glasses, offering a smirk. Dew can hear the unspoken eh? at the end of his sentence, so much so he can’t help rolling his eyes and smirking back.

“How would you know, old man?” Dew fires back, flicking the hem of Copia’s trousers with his tail. He leans in closer. Elbows resting on his slightly spread knees until his face is level with the anti-pope’s. “Listening in on your free time?” The fire ghoul smiles wickedly, giving him an obvious once over. He cocks his head and bites his tongue between his teeth, waiting for an answer.

Copia’s face rosies a bit, but he returns to his chicken scratch. He jots down a few words before he mutters: “I am sure you do not fantasize your Papa spying on you, caro.”

“Maybe I don’t.” A lie. “Anyway, I think Rain’s loud enough to hear across the fuckin’ abbey. Probably have a soundtrack of water ghoul moans to lull you to sleep every other night,” Dew snickers.

Copia just shakes his head with an amused sigh and continues taking notes. Little chunks of writing in the margins of photocopies of Latin texts, scrawling in both Italian and English in a little notebook off to the side. Dew’s struck with just how patient this man is, endlessly so. He can get crabby on tour, just like any of them, restless and tired, but he really is kind to him and his pack.

The fire ghoul hums thoughtfully and returns to his upright position. Leaning back into the circles of bare desk he cleared earlier for his hands. “Do you get tired of putting up with us, Papa?” he asks casually.

“Dewdrop,” Copia says with a measured tone. He puts his pen down, and his glasses too, looking up at his lead guitarist and steepling his fingers. They’re devoid of gloves, Dew notices in passing, his nails neatly trimmed and his skin smooth and humanly wrinkly. “We have been working together for how many years now?”

Dew shrugs. “A few.”

“Si, quite a few, hm?” Copia agrees. He swivels his chair so his body faces Dew more directly and places a gentle hand on his knee. “Why then, my ghoul, would you think I am ‘putting up with you,’ as you put it?”

“Don’t tell me you actually like us,” Dew says sarcastically. But Copia’s hand is warm on his knee, and he’s trying not to focus too much on how he’s looking at him right now, all soft eyes and a worried crease in his brow.

“Well, I do. Of course I do,” he assures the ghoul. “Quite fond of you all, actually. It was, admittedly, a little rocky when we first met. But.” There’s that heh Dew was expecting just moments before. “Here we are, no?”

He’s quiet for so long that Copia clears his throat and gives his knee a polite pat before taking his hand away. He makes to go back to his notes, but Dew mourns the loss of his hand immediately. His pen barely touches the pages before the fire ghoul sobers up and inhales sharply.

“Uh,” he blurts out stupidly, shaking his head and squinting his eyes at Copia. Unsure what to say but determined to say something. “You mean that?” Immediately he wants to crawl back into himself—back into the Pit, even—for sounding so small. Vulnerable.

“Yes, I do,” Copia says quietly, genuinely. He taps his pen against the paper, little dots of black littering the line beneath his skip this? note. Instead of resuming his annotations, he sets the pen down once more, looking up at the ghoul perched atop his desk. His white eye is suddenly piercing in the lamplight, and he’s looking at him like he can see more than just the ghoul sitting in front of him.

“Well, I guess we’re . . . fond of you too, or whatever you wanna call it,” he mocks, aiming for levity. Dew’s tail flicks, ruffling the hem of Copia’s pants again.

Copia chuckles. “Well, that is good then,” he smiles.

Dew hums. Offers a one-sided smile in return. Easy. He could leave it at that; resume the relaxed banter about sermons and his new duties as Papa while Copia gets increasingly tired and/or annoyed and shoos him away with a chocolate truffle in hand (the ones he keeps stashed in his desk drawer for evenings like this).

He could. But in the same moment, he decides he’s tired of tip-toeing around the idea of what this man is to him. He wades out into the waters, throwing a line.

“Is that . . . the only thing you feel for us?” he says at length, quieter. He scoots his thigh closer to the anti-pope’s hand. Encouraging him to touch again, if he wants. The sudden heat in his belly hoping he does. He wades a little deeper. “For me?”

Now it’s Copia’s turn to falter, fingers twitching at the fabric of Dew’s trousers. He looks down at Dew’s thigh, then back up to his face. Searching his copper eyes for something, anything, his thoughts as loud as if Dew were a quintessence ghoul.

“I . . .” he trails off, a failed start. He clears his throat. “I am, as they say, only human. So there are, perhaps, other . . . things. Si.”

Dew grabs his hand gently, placing it just above where it was moments ago, confidence building. “Fantasies, maybe?”

“Dewdrop—”

“For how bold you are on stage, you sure are fuckin’ shy in private, Papa.”

Copia huffs a laugh, moving his hand tentatively along Dew’s thigh. “Eh . . . reserved, maybe. But I don’t know about shy, my ghoul.” He shuffles his chair so he’s situated back between the fire ghoul’s dangling legs.

Dew smirks. “See? Can call me motherfucker in front of thousands of screaming girls, but it’s my ghoul in here.”

“Ah, but that is the difference. They do not get the privilege of seeing you offstage.” A beat. “Though, I imagine they would do a lot of things for that privilege,” he mutters.

Dew bites his tongue in asserting that he is, in fact, a motherfucker offstage too. Instead, he tilts his head so his ashy hair cascades over his shoulder and spreads his legs further, hooking a foot in the arm of Copia’s chair and tugging it closer. He’s baring all of himself now, literally and figuratively. Potentially risking his position, too, if this goes south.

But by the look on the anti-pope’s face, they’re both too deep to swim back now.

“And what’re you gonna do with that privilege, Papa?”

“You’re asking?” he deflects, putting the other hand on the opposite thigh.

“If you don’t touch me in the next five seconds, old man, I swear to Satan—”

“Like this?” Copia smooths his hand up the inside of Dew’s thigh, running along the seam of his pants until he reaches where the ghoul’s started to chub up. His breath hitches, head tilting back.

“Yeah,” he breathes. He looks back down at his hand, tucking chin to chest as he watches those fingers press just so, right where the tip of his dick sits already sticky in his boxers. He bites his lip with a stifled noise.

“Long time we’ve danced around each other, I think,” Copia says. Dew just nods, flexing his hips into his fingers to get more friction. Copia presses more firmly, taking the hint. Drawing a firm line down the ridge of his clothed shaft.

“Humans and ghouls, well . . .” he trails off, looking up at Dew.

“You’ve thought about it,” he replies simply.

“Of course. Of course I have, caro. I–” he laughs, shakes his head in disbelief. “I mean, look at you.” He stops himself, color rising to his cheeks. He drops his gaze, focusing back on the hand on Dew’s fly.

The fire ghoul watches him trace a finger around the button before reaching down himself, popping it open. “What about me?” he asks softly, inviting. Shifting his hips again to encourage him to continue.

“Not just fishing for compliments, I hope,” Copia teases lightly, a little bit of that stage persona shining through as he drags the zipper down.

“That’s not what—hh-oh.” He cuts himself off with a stuttered breath of a moan, Copia’s hand having reached past his fly and into his pants to pet at the dot of wetness sticking his boxers to his tip. The look of pure curiosity—wonder, really—on the man’s face as he feels him up has his stomach flipping. “Fuck, keep doing that.”

“You tell me what you like, my ghoul, and I will do it,” he whispers.

Dew groans as another bead of precum blurts out into his boxers, wet at just his words. “Keep teasing it,” he breathes. “Shit, see how wet you can get it.” He twitches under Copia’s fingers as he wraps his hand around his clothed cock, thumb swiping back and forth over the head. Firm, but just light enough that it makes Dew keen for more.

Copia continues the little motions, over and over until Dew’s underwear clings to him, saturated with pre. The friction of it and the intensity of Copia’s gaze on him has him dizzy, wanting. The man’s thumb presses over his slit, and he can’t help his eyes rolling back, thighs twitching towards each other.

“F-fuck,” he stutters.

Copia rubs his other hand over Dew’s thigh, soothing. “Stai bene? Good?”

The fire ghoul nods, hair falling off his shoulders to frame his face. “More than,” he groans. He bites his lip, bucking into Copia’s hand. “Again—do it agai—yes, Satanas, yes.”

The anti-pope presses into his slit again, this time dragging the pad of his thumb along the ridge with even pressure. Humming as he works it back and forth. It’s so sensitive, so instantly overwhelming that Dew has to consciously restrain himself from gouging his claws into the wood. He lets his head drop back, facing the ceiling and biting his lip to stave off the rush of arousal that threatens to make him spill in his pants.

Below him, Copia sighs. “Beautiful, caro,” he comments.

Dew half-snorts, half-groans, bringing his chin back down to his chest. “You flatter me,” he says with an eye roll.

“They say it gets one everywhere, no?”

“If by ‘everywhere’ you mean ‘in my pants’.”

“If that is where you want me.”

Dew sucks his teeth, scoffs a little in disbelief. Eyebrows twitching upwards when Copia fingers the elastic of his boxers, blunt nails scratching at the peach fuzz on his stomach. He can’t get a grasp on the anti-pope’s tone, switching so fast between charming and soft it makes his head spin. He’s seen both moods separately, of course, fired back his own quips with a silver tongue or begrudgingly accepted praise and a head pat for a productive rehearsal. But having a cocktail of both leaves him with mental whiplash.

The hand making his dick wet probably isn’t helping in that department.

So he nods instead, helping the man shimmy down the waistband of his boxers to snuggle it under his balls, freeing his aching length. Dew hisses at the cool air of the room breezing over the slick-coated head—though, it’s replaced with a puff of hot air when Copia breathes:

“May I?”

Dew nods again, widening his eyes and raising his eyebrows as a silent duh. Copia chuckles at that, scooting a little closer. He smooths his other hand up the fire ghoul’s thigh, up, up, up until he stops at his hip and rests his palm there, forearm dropping to sit on top of his leg. Dew’s stuck watching its ascent and misses the moment the anti-pope reaches for him, wrapping his fingers gently around the base of his cock and stroking upwards.

“Lucifer,” he chokes out. He snaps his gaze to where their skin meets and watches his dick kick hard in Copia’s fist, more precum welling up in the slit.

“Ti piace?” Copia continues to stroke slowly, not immediately translating as earlier. His accent curls around Dew’s eardrums, the Italian twisting with foreignness and short-circuiting his language synapses. He shakes his head, begging the small box of Italian in his brain labeled ‘Papa’s Nonsense Words’ to make sense of the phrase.

He blinks at Copia’s expectant gaze. “Huh?” he asks eloquently, forcing the word through an embarrassing moan.

“Does this feel good?” he supplies, nodding toward his hand.

The fire ghoul stares at the man’s hand, now wet with his own slick as it glides up and down. When his brain finally catches up to him, he barks a bewildered laugh. “I’m gonna have to learn more fuckin’ Italian for this,” he mumbles.

“Oh.” Copia laughs too, realizing his little slip-up. Dew’s shoulders shake with his own renewed laughter. Giggles passing between the two as if they were twelve-year-olds who just pulled off a prank on their teacher, not a fifty-something leader of a Satanic church jerking off a near immortal hellbeast turned quasi-human.

But the shared laughter is familiar. Comforting, in a way. Something to dissolve that final layer of caution that sat like oil on water between them.

“You are an endless delight, my ghoul,” Copia sighs, huffing out a last chuckle.

“I’ll give you an endless—uuh-nholy ff–fuck.” Copia runs his thumb over the slit of Dew’s cock, and his sentence is reduced to an eye-rolling moan. He grabs hold of the anti-pope’s forearm that rests on his leg, fingers digging into the muscle as he drools out a fat roll of precum.

Copia hums and smears it around the head, pulling down the foreskin to rub at the sensitive underside. It’s all the courtesy he’s granted before the man goes back to stroking him in earnest, skirting over the head with each downward pass and tightening around the base when he pulls up.

Dew grips his forearm tighter, thighs jumping with each tease of his frenulum. “Faster,” he begs. “And tighter. Fuck, feels s’ good.”

“Merdaccia infernale, are you always so . . .” Copia shakes his head, letting the room fill with the lewd, creamy sounds of Dew’s slick-soaked cock.

“Wet?” Dew supplies as a choked-off noise. “Not al–hah–always. Not since—” his eyes roll back again, too caught in pleasure to be completely coherent. “The–shit–the—” Dew flails his hand in some nonsensical gesture.

“Si, si.” The man understands without further elaboration that he means his elemental transition. That, despite the effective evaporation of his water, the born-again fire ghoul still carries traits from his original alignment—including dribbling pre like a leaky tap.

But Copia knows, doesn’t need him to explain or elaborate. Just tightens his grip and speeds his hand, looking up at Dew with a gaze that cuts him right down to the core. Intense, yet soft and admiring. Desire flickering just behind that.

“Shit,” Dew hisses, letting his eyes close fully. Sinking into it. His hips are moving of their own accord now, little twitches that meet each downstroke, just barely fucking into Copia’s fist. It’s so much better than it has right to be, but Dew doesn’t care. All he cares about is the way Copia’s hand feels on his dick, the way his other hand grips his hip, the way his breathing grows heavier and tickles the fine hairs at the base of his dick, how it chills the wetness at the tip only to be warmed by his fingers within the same second.

“Oh, oh, ohhhh fuck, Papa, fuck.” His pleasure heightens suddenly, the backs of his thighs going pleasantly tingly and his toes curling in his boots. He can feel it starting to build, balls drawing closer to his body with every stroke.

“Close?” Copia whispers, gripping Dew’s hip tighter and shifting in his chair. He grunts a little, no doubt filled out in his slacks too. Dew can’t confirm from this angle, especially not with the way his vision blurs, doubles even. But he has to be, if his wavering voice is anything to go by.

Dew throbs at just the idea of his cock straining against his zipper, balls heavy and squished between his thighs as he watches the fire ghoul come apart. Neglecting it as he showers Dew with undivided attention. He’s assaulted with the mental image of Copia in those tight, white pants from his Cardinal days, absolutely everything on display, and he groans.

He’s shaking now, stomach jumping as his breath starts to quicken. He’s sure his eyes are wild as he looks at the man below him, whining through his teeth as his hand moves faster, faster. Dew watches Copia bite his lip and look down at the movements of his hand, and the sudden fantasy image of that mouth kissing the tip of his cock makes him grip the anti-pope’s forearm until it threatens to bruise, nearly doubling over with the swell of impending orgasm.

Dew needs him. He needs him so badly.

“Gonna cum—fuck, please,” he moans, breath quickening to shortened gasps. “Kiss me—please, m’ gonna—Papa—” Dew grasps at the man’s shirt collar, pulling at it to get him to stand. Dragging him in by the shoulders and kissing him fiercely, whining when Copia groans into his mouth and pumps him even faster. The scent on him is instantly intoxicating; notes of neroli and patchouli, dull wax from the black patches of makeup, the barest hint of incense smoke underneath. All pressed directly into his nostrils where Dew’s nose smushes against his.

“Proprio così,” Copia mumbles, encouraging. His other arm loops around to cradle him between the shoulder blades, hand threading through his hair to grasp and hold as he kisses him deeply. That little bit of tension on Dew’s scalp sends a zing of heat right to his dick, and he’s moaning like a whore as he scrabbles at Copia’s shirt, ready to fall over the edge.

“Fucking. Fu–uhh, uh, uhh—” Dew loses all sense of words as he clings to him, mouth dropping open and tongue drooling over Copia’s lips. He cums hard, spilling over his hand with a shuddering groan, bucking into that wet fist until he’s risking sliding off the edge of the desk. He doesn’t, of course, braced and embraced by Copia’s body as he is.

Dew’s head drops to his shoulder as he rides out the seemingly endless spasms. Far too many for a handy, if he’s being honest. But the anti-pope works him over until he’s milked dry, whispering more words into his hair that he doesn’t understand and rubbing a soothing hand over his back.

“Shit,” he rasps. After a few more moments he peeks down at his lap—lucid enough now to mind his horns—where his black pants are now streaked with white, Copia’s hand resting on his fly also coated in the stuff. He shakes his head softly and laughs.

“Got me good, old man.”

“Dewdrop . . .” His tone is pleading, breathless. Dew lifts his head and the hand on his back migrates to the side of his face, caressing softly. He leans into it as he looks at Copia, his face flushed and a look of pure want and adoration in his eyes. “Please, caro.”

He doesn’t need to ask what he needs, eyes flicking down to the tent in his pants and back up again. Dew nods. Moves the hands around Copia’s neck to the back of his head, pulling him in.

It’s less feverish this time. Softer and slower, but far from chaste. Idly he wonders if any of the others have had him like this: privately in his office, a mere exchange of something fleeting, or hot and heavy in a storage closet after a show, frantic and adrenaline-fueled.

If any of them have, they’ve never told. He’ll go back to the ghoul wing smelling of him, unless he runs straight to the shower. Douse himself in scalding hot water until he can barely smell himself.

But he won’t.

Dew slides into the space in front of Copia, ignoring the mess on his dick as he presses close to the man. Licking into his mouth and sliding their tongues together as Copia’s hands start to roam. The fire ghoul slots a thigh between his legs as his palms reach his waist, pressing against his crotch.

Copia whines in his throat, twisting his fingers into the fabric of Dew’s shirt. He’s hard as steel against his leg, throbbing when Dew presses harder and tugging at him like he could still get closer than he already is.

“Sit down,” Dew rumbles. He breaks the kiss and holds his gaze as he presses on his shoulders, easing him back into the desk chair. Down, down, down until Dew looms over him. He smirks slightly, confidence and ease returning to him as their positions switch. Running his thumb along the painted upper lip then dragging down to the bare one.

Wordlessly, the fire ghoul sinks to his knees. Scoots Copia to the edge of his chair so he can spread his legs. He smooths his palms up his thighs, his infernal heat seeping through the trousers. He watches Copia’s face as he pets at him, cupping and rubbing at his cock through the layers of fabric. The man’s chest heaves. Hands gripping the wooden arms of his chair. Exhaling shakily as Dew traces a claw around the button on his fly.

“Allow me,” Dew purrs.

#the band ghost #fanfic #the band ghost fanfic #ghost fanfic #dewdrop ghoul #cardinal copia #papa emeritus iv #copia x dewdrop #dewdrop x copia #papa x dewdrop #dewdrop x papa #copia/dewdrop #dewdrop/copia #papa/dewdrop #dewdrop/papa #CORRECTLY translated italian #dews gonna go back to the dorms and theyre gonna smell copia on him and then EVERYONES gonna want him

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highvern · 10 months

Text

Teach Me IV

extra credit

Pairing: Lee Dokyeom (Seokmin) x fem!reader

Genre: smut, humor, college au, frat!svt

Warnings: mentions of drug use (weed) and alcohol , phone sex, exchange of nudes, both are down horrendous, mutual masturbation, making out, dry humping, idiots in like, dokyeom has a praise kink and isn't ashamed, snippets of disgusting fluff

Length: ~5.1k

Note: ugh ... anyways! i know i mentioned potential angst in an ask but i'm weak

read more here

The best part of starting Fall Break on a Friday is having to do absolutely nothing for five blissful days. But because he is easily swindled by his friends, Dokyeom is ass over tits and the clock hasn’t even chimed 8PM. After the incredibly awkward week following your latest tryst, he’s thankful for the mind numbing freedom of alcohol, weed, and nothing but miles of mountain and woods.

Or he would be if wasn’t still upset you turned down his invitation to join him this weekend.

So he sneaks into his room and pulls up your Instagram. You're at the top of his results when he clicks into the search bar.

You posted a new photo this afternoon. A memory of a girls night out, sandwiched between two of your friends outside some bar, nothing but wide drunk smiles and closed eyes under the flash of the camera. Dokyeom already saw it. Already liked it.

He keeps scrolling, down down down till he reaches his favorite picture. A frozen memory of you outside some cafe, slumped in an iron wrought chair, sunglasses obscuring half of your face; your mouth is spread over a wild guffaw, teeth flashing and the corner of your lips arched high in amusement. Whatever had amused you pulled your entire body in, shoulders curved up as your chest caves, chin tipped back.

The soft pink sundress hugging you snugly is an added bonus.

And somewhere in his muddled mind, Dokyeom decides he needs to talk to you. Right. Now.

After the third ring, the call connects.

“Heyyy, pretty lady.”

“Oh my god, are you drunk?” You laugh, and Dokyeom can imagine the same expression from the photo flashing across your face.

God, she even sounds pretty. He thinks.

He whines through the goofy smile plucking the corners of his lips, “Nooooo.”

“Oh, really?”

“Maybe I’m a little drunk.”

“Only a little?” You jest.

“Maybe a lot-tle.”

“I can tell.”

“Wish you were here.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Haven’t seen you in like a week.”

If he wasn’t wasted then he might feel embarrassed, but Dokyeom finds the words slipping past him without a second thought as he rocks back and forth, caught in waves of emotion.

“How’s the cabin been so far?”

The sudden change in topic scratches unpleasantly but he lets it go.

“Would be more fun if you were here.” He confesses. “What are you up to?”

“Laying in bed, watching Love Island.”

“What are you wearing?”

“Seriously?” You scoff.

“What?”

“You’re so lame, Kyeom.”

“I’m curious about what you do when you’re alone.” He tries to sound innocent. “You’re alone, right?”

“Yeah, Ava left for the weekend.”

“So what are you doing this weekend?”

He’s fishing for the real reason you told him you couldn't come with him to the cabin. You’d been purposefully vague the few times Dokyeom probed since last Thursday, claiming any excuse under the sun: a friend coming to visit, getting ahead on assignments, pulling a few extra shifts at the library. Anything to avoid flat out rejection.

“You know, this and that. What about you guys? Any big plans?”

“Some of the guys mentioned a hike tomorrow. And Beer-lympics Sunday.”

“God, you’re such a frat bro.”

“I can do better.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. What are you wearing?” He tries again.

He hears you huff, “Pajamas.”

“Sexy.”

“I actually think this is your shirt.”

“Oh? Send me a pic.”

“What do I get if I do?”

“What do you want?”

“Are you hard?”

“I can be.”

“I’ll send you a picture if you send me one too.”

“Fuck, okay.” He agrees, tapping open his camera app and trying out a few angles, working himself up in the process.

Dokyeom settles for cupping the bulge over his pants, outline of his cock pronounced as he lightly squeezes. He’s highly aware of your obsession with his hands, so he tries to flex his arm forcing the web of veins to rise as the muscles clench.

“I’m waiting.” You goad on the other end of the phone, knocking him out of his concentration.

The five photos he’s snapped all look about the same. Settling on the least blurry one, he quickly opens your messages and sends it before changing his mind.

A sharp inhale announces its arrival on your phone.

“Your turn.”

He can hear the rustle of clothes and blankets through the speaker, and a whispered curse following a dull thud. Dokyeom can’t help the chuckle that escapes as he pictures whatever caused it.

The photo you send back takes him a second to decipher. You're definitely wearing his shirt, the bottom hem bunched across your breasts, the swells of flesh peaking out near the top of the picture; perfectly omitting your face. Tracing down your bare stomach, your hips are wrapped in powdery blue cotton panties. And if that wasn’t enough, one hand is stuffed underneath, pulling the elastic taunt across the crease in your hip as it stretches to accommodate your fingers.

Holy shit.

“You like it?”

“You're evil.” Head rolling back, Dokyeom groans as he takes it all in. “You want me dead.”

You giggle at his tone.

“Fuck,” he mutters, continuing to study your figure. “You’re so hot.”

“Kyeomie,” you whine, obviously embarrassed under his attention.

“Are you touching yourself?”

“Yeah,” you mewl.

“Dirty girl.”

“Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it?”

The back and forth of your relationship is the funnest part, in Dokyeom’s opinion. You like when he puts you in your place as much as he enjoys you putting him in his. It helps that even when he assumes the more dominant role, you still praise him as if he’s the best thing since sliced bread. It scratches that submissive part of his brain that always wants needs to be good. Especially for you.

“I can think of a few things.”

“Oh? Like what?”

Phone sex is unfamiliar territory. He isn’t sure how much is too much and the awkward parting last week still stains his brain. But you just sent him a photo with your hands down your underwear so Dokyeom tries to go with the flow.

“Could make you cry on my cock.” He flushes when you remain silent for a second too long . “Sorry, that felt awkward.”

“No!” You object, voice crackling through the speaker at the sharp increase in volume. “It, ugh, that’s hot.”

“What? Crying from my dick?”

“You don’t think so?”

Dokyeom’s cock twitches, as if to signal its eager agreement.

“I think anything involving you near my penis is hot so I’m not really a good judge.”

“Well, just imagine it. Remember that time we fucked at Wonwoo and Mingyu’s house party?”

“Not appreciating you saying other dudes’ names while my dick is in my hand but yeah.”

You snicker at his reprimand. “Anyway. Remember how I wanted you to fuck my mouth?”

Dokyeom takes a sharp inhale as the memory rushes forward. You on your knees, eyes glossy and lips bruised, begging him to stretch your throat. The second the request reached his ears Dokyeom nearly came on your sweater covered chest, but he’d ignored your request, hauling your ass up onto the counter in favor of stuffing your cunt. You hadn’t complained.

“But you wouldn’t because you didn’t wanna mess up my makeup?”

“You looked pretty… didn’t wanna ruin it.”

“Yeah but I wanted you to.”

Another squeeze of his cock as he slips his hand under his boxers, “Yeah?”

“You’re really hot when you tell me what to do.”

“Fuck.” He groans, vocabulary limited by the husky timbre of your voice. “Are you touching yourself?”

“Mhhmm, doesn't feel as good as when you do it though.”

A pathetic thrust through his fist at the praise. “I know but I’ll make it up to you next time. Promise.”

“How?”

“Might tie you up. Fuck you till your screamming.” Dokyeom doesn’t know who he’s become but you seem to like it.

“Oh?”

Your reply is all breath, the same way you sign when he gives you his fingers after a long study session. The beads of pre-cum on his tip increase as he works his cock, almost able to fill the way you’d coat his fingers if he was there to give them to you.

“You like that? Want me to use your tight little pussy? Fill it up?”

“Want you to come inside me again, Minnie. So hot.”

“I know, pretty girl. So desperate for it aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” you squeak, “Are you close?”

“Send me another picture.”

Only a few seconds pass, filled with muffled groans on his end and the clack of your nails on yours. Dokyeom rushes to open the new attachment you’ve blessed him with, heart clenching when his stomach caves around a moan.

The photo is blurry from your haste but he doesn’t care. You're drenched. The crotch of your panties tinged darker as you pull them aside, flashing the way your entrance stretches around three of your fingers. Your clit just barely visible, puffy and swollen from neglect.

“Fuck, baby.”

“Minnie—” Your voice sounds far away, and he realizes you've put yourself on speaker so you can use both hands.

“Can you do something for me?” he grounds, squeezing the base of his cock to stop his impending end.

“Anything.”

Another deep breath before he lays himself bare, “Drive up here tomorrow.”

“What?” You ask, the springs of your mattress squeaking as you sit up, clearly confused by the switch in pace.

“I wanna see you.”

“I—”

“Promise I’ll make it worth your while.” Dokyeom scrambles.

Another pause before a timid, “How?”

“Whatever you want.”

“Dangerous words.”

“Pretty sure I’ll enjoy it just as much as you.”

“I don’t know…”

“If you don’t want to, it's fine but,” he sighs, “if you can I want you to come. And not just because of sex.”

“Then why?”

“Because I like—” He cuts himself off hastily. “Because I like spending time with you.”

As seconds tick by without response, Dokyeom is sure you're going to call his bluff. Or worse, laugh in his face. He’s sweating, heart beating irregularly as he waits for your reply.

“Really?” Shyness creeps into your voice.

Dokyeom nods before realizing you can’t see him. “Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’ll come.”

“Really?” Dokyeom asks, eyes wide and jaw slack. No way it's this easy.

“Really,” he can hear you smile. “But only because you said you’d give me whatever I want.”

“You’re gonna make me regret that aren’t you?”

“Absolutely.” You tease, enunciating each syllable as his heart beats in time. “But Kyeomie…”

“Yeah?”

“I’m still wet.”

“Can’t have that.” He tsks.

“Please,”

“Be a good girl and play with your clit.” Dokyeom instructs, slipping right back in.

A hitch in your breath precludes a satisfied “hmmm”. He wishes he could taste both on his tongue.

“Touch yourself too.” You plea.

Dokyeom’s wound so tight a gust of wind would have his load all over his stomach. He tells you as much.

“Shiiit” You curse, catching up to him. “Close.”

“Yeah? Think you deserve it?”

If he was there, Dokyeom knows he’d see the frustrated kick of your legs and feel the daggers shooting from your eyes.

“You ignored me all last week, I don’t know if I should let you.”

“Dokyeom, please!”

“But since I get to see you tomorrow.” he tuts, covering up the catch of his breath as you plea again. “Let me hear it.”

The call devolves into choked curses and groans. He keeps the screen close to his face as he focuses back on the picture you sent, painting his fist with streaks of white as you beg him to cum, choke on how much you want to taste. Your stuttered “ah”s floating right into his ears as you twist and shake in your bed hours away.

When Dokyeom can feel himself returning to his body, he soaks in the lull of you catching your breath.

“You good?”

“Yeah.” You sigh dreamily.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Send me the address.”

“Oh and Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m happy you’re coming…”

“Goodnight,” you chuckle at the double entendre.

“Night.”

Even with the satisfaction of an orgasm coursing through his veins, the fizzing bubbles of happiness in his chest have nothing to do with the cum cooling in his underwear.

The drive to the cabin is two hours and thirty seven nerve wrecking minutes. Dokyeom has been up since six, texting you the address, asking you to let him know when you left, keep him updated on any pit stops you needed to make. Not to rush up the mountain and drive safely.

The digital clock on your dash reads just past noon as you slowly creep up a narrow gravel road, praying another car doesn’t swoop around the bend. Of course a pack of frat boys would choose some creepy woods to set up camp for a long weekend.

You dial Dokyeom’s number just to be safe. Barely a full ring passes before he picks it up.

“Hey!”

“Hey… I think I’m pulling up to the right place?” You scan for any sign of a driveway on either side of the road without any luck.

“Oh shit, I’ll come outside. Jun got us lost yesterday when he drove up so it’s tricky.”

Taking a left as you finally spot the red mailbox with a beaver carved into the dark wooden post at the end of the lengthy driveway, a two story cabin comes into view between the trees. Dokyeom jogs from the porch to meet you at the edge of the yard. Rolling down your window as he makes his way over, you greet him.

“Hey,”

“Hey,” he smiles, bright enough to blind a village.

“Um, where should I park?”

“Just pull up behind anyone, it doesn't matter.”

“Alright.”

Dokyeom walks next to you as you pull in behind a white sedan. Once in park, you pop the trunk before slipping out the door. He already has your bag tossed over his shoulder, tangling your fingers with his as he pulls you towards the house.

“Some of the guys went on a hike earlier so I’ve been helping Seungkwan and Mingyu clean up.”

“Oh, you didn’t need to wait for me.”

“I wanted to.”

Before you can think too much on that statement, Seungkwan interrupts by tackling you in a hug.

“Oh thank god you’re here.”

“Hi to you too.” You say, carrying his weight as he goes boneless.

“Hi,” he responds with a squeeze, before turning to Dokyeom with a blunt, “Goodbye.”

Seungkwan pulls you inside the front door, beelining for the sliding glass doors that lead to the back porch.

“Hey!”

Without slowing, Seungkwan fends him off. “She was my friend first!”

“Yeah well,” Dokyeom flounders like a washed up fish.

“You dazzle with words. Now go away.” Seungkwan sniffs.

Sending an apologetic smile over your shoulder, you allow Seungkwan to usher you along. You spot another person in the kitchen, face shadowed by the hood of his sweater. He doesn’t look up when you and Seungkwan shuffle pass.

“Ignore Mingyu, his girlfriend broke up with him yesterday.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah, anyway.” Seungkwan plops onto one of the chairs circled around the patio table. “Speaking of girlfriends—”

“Did you finally get one?”

“Being mean is bad for your health.” He deadpans. “As I was saying, did Dokyeom ask you to be his?”

“His what?”

“His girlfriend.”

Your ears ring at the nonchalance in Seungkwan’s tone.

“Why would he ask me to be his girlfriend?”

“Why else would you get up at the ass crack of dawn to come to this dump?”

“He said he wanted me to come.” You answer, turning your head to observe the lake beyond the thin tree line.

“After you told him no? Wow, didn’t realize he was that good in bed.”

Your hands itch to circle his neck and shake but Seungkwan is saved by the very man in question.

“Hate to interrupt but I thought you might want some coffee?”

You turn around, smiling as Dokyeom leans out of the sliding glass door, “Yeah, that sounds great.”

“We aren’t done talking!” Seungkwan calls as you reach the door.

“I am!”

Mingyu apparently retreated to his room after you stepped outside, nowhere to be found in the kitchen or living room beyond the counter.

The isolation makes you nervous which is strange because it’s just Dokyeom. But his words last night over the phone, coupled with Seungkwan’s on the porch twist your guts uncomfortably.

It’s too late to bail. You can’t claim illness since Dokyeom will fawn over you like some mother hen. Besides, you don’t actually want to leave. You just can’t stand the nagging voice in the back of your head insisting this isn’t what friends do. Even if said friends are having sex.

“Wanna show me your room?”

“Sure!” Dokyeom is still cheery, eagerly leading you upstairs and down a maze of hallways.

The outside of the cabin, while daunting, failed to betray how big it actually is as you pass door after door on your journey.

The room Dokyeom is sharing with Soonyoung is cozy. Two full sized beds with little room for anything else and an en suite the size of a closet. But at least you won’t have to battle it out with anyone else for a bathroom during the next three days.

Dokyeom was lucky enough to claim the bed closests to the bay windows, framing a pleasant view of the backyard, dock, and sprawling lake. When you step closer, you can spot Seungkwan’s mop of hair as he leans on the edge of the railing that borders the porch; hand animated as the other holds his phone near his mouth.

Turning back to the bed, you spot your bag on the floor at the foot of it. The room is ten degrees hotter when you realize Dokyeom was lying right there as he talked you through an orgasm barely twelve hours ago. You awkwardly shuffle on your feet as you try to find something to say.

Dokyeom seems unperturbed, flopping onto the mattress, arms thrown wide in invitation. A shy grin twists your lips. Hair a mess, and cheeks flushed, Dokyeom looks cute. He’s always cute but navy crew neck and gray sweats transforms him into a cozy dream. The mattress dips under your knee as you crawl to lay next to him.

Settling your head over his heart, arms twining around one another, you feel your own give a peculiar squeeze. It’s truly no different than all the other times you’ve cuddled, albeit those were post-coitous; except it is. Dokyeom told you he wanted you here, that he likes spending time with you, and now he’s squeezing the life out of you as he snags one of your legs to wrap around his waist.

When sleep tickles your nose, pleasantly warm and inviting, you ignore how Dokyeom isn’t your boyfriend. What you have right now is perfect enough.

—

The sweet hum of Dokyeom’s voice lulls you awake, a simple melody you vaguely recognize from his playlist he insists on blasting during your hangouts. Gray light from outside casts the room sullenly dark. Storm clouds, swollen to a near black, eclipse the late afternoon sun. Dokyeom’s neck is the perfect place to escape the unavoidable sounds of the cabin filled with life, eyes firmly shut as you inhale the smell of laundry detergent and pine.

One of your hands managed to twist under his sweater in your sleep, fisting his thin T-shirt as you attempt to beckon sleep out of hiding and back towards you. A pathetic whine escapes when Dokyeom jostles you in an attempt to find a more comfortable position, only silenced by his lips against your forehead and his stroking your elbow.

“Shhhh,” he coos. “Go back to sleep.”

“What time is it?”

“Like five.”

Lifting back from his neck, you pout. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

A gentle peck to your lips in response leaves you speechless, a soft quirk to his lips as you gape. Collapsing back into his chest you’re left to bask in each other's presence as you take to silently drawing shapes on his stomach, smiling as he giggles from ticklishness. His thumb traces the curves of your hip, digging to the soft flesh of your waist.

A banging on the door makes you both jump out of your skin before Seungkwan’s voice cuts the air. “Come on love birds, dinners ready!”

“If we don’t get up, do you think he’ll go away?” Dokyeom whispers into your hair.

“No.”

On queue the door flies open, smacking against the wall and rebounding into Seungkwan’s face.

“I said it's time for dinner. Now get your asses up!”

“Go away, Boo!” You demand, chucking a pillow in his direction.

“What happened to respecting your elders?” Dokyeom asks, eyes sharp as he tries to kill the younger man with his eyes.

“When my elder does something respectable, I’ll consider it.” Seungkwan claps. “Now chop chop!”

The dinner Seungkwan so adamantly demanded your presence at is a huge pot of spaghetti and some loaves of garlic bread. Nothing overly complex but the bustling atmosphere downstairs is nice, comfortable.

Dokyeom introduces you to some of the fraternity members you haven’t met, as well as their dates. Squished between him and Seungkwan at the dining table, you barely engage in conversation. Not that you need to. They both fill the space with their own joking easily enough.

Instead, your mind focuses on the warmth of Dokyeom’s shoulder brushing yours, and how he rests his arm on the back of your chair once he finishes his plate.

When the mess is cleared away, a few people scurrying off to who knows where, Soonyoung insists on a game of Beerio Kart as dessert. Excited to have a new person to torment, he drags you to the couch before you can object. In a blink, you find yourself wedged between the armrest and Dokyeom as he explains the game.

“The rules are simple my friends! No drinking and driving and you have to finish your drunk before the race ends. If you fail to do so you’ll be publicly shamed.” Soonyoung claps his hands together, the maniacal glint in his eyes a little too intense for such a silly game.

“And for additional chaos,” Seungkwan adds. “I’ve changed it to blue shells only.”

“Now may the best driver win!”

“Alright, the first round is Jun, Marci, Sam, and me.”

“This is gonna be a bloodbath.” Someone calls from the other couch.

And it is. Jun uses height to hold Seungkwan’s drink out of the younger man’s reach, resulting in Seungkwan launching himself from the couch in a flying kick. They’re both so occupied with one another they don’t notice the race is long finished and neither of their characters moved past the starting line.

A chorus of boos rises as the race times out, designating them as 11th and 12th place.

“Alright, next is DK, Y/N, Wonwoo, and myself.”

“Can I forfeit?”

Dokyeom turns to you. “You wanna quit already?”

“Considering my opponents, yes.”

“New rule: no quitting allowed.” Soonyoung interjects.

“You can’t make that a rule!”

“I just did!”

You respond with a thumbs down, much more effective than the middle finger you want to throw his way.

“It’s okay if you’re scared, Y/N.” Wonwoo taunts from across the room.

“I’m not scared!”

“That’s exactly what someone who is scared would say!” Soonyoung chimes in.

Dokyeom just shrugs his shoulders when you look at him for assistance. Figures. He’s part of the reason you don’t want to play. He and his roommate rile each other up too much under normal circumstances, let alone when things get competitive and alcohol is involved.

“Fine, let's play!”

Soonyoung divvies out another round of lukewarm beer cans you’re required to drink as Wonwoo picks the track. N64 Rainbow Road because apparently he’s an asshole. The way he reclines back in his seat confirms it.

To avoid the inevitable mess Dokyeom will make in his haste to chug before the race begins, you stand, shuffling closer to the safe zone at the edge of the coffee table. He tugs at the back of your shirt for a second, prompting you to shake your head.

Dokyeom pouts but stays silent.

“Alright lady and gentlemen! Start. Your. Engines!”

Cracking open your can the second the countdown begins on screen, you gag at the taste of cheap beer as everyone whoops around you. You manage half the can before you have to stop under the threat of it coming back up. Dokyeom and Soonyoung are still drinking, the later shuffling in place restlessly. Wonwoo hasn’t even opened his beer, focusing on getting as far ahead as he can.

Hopefully Seungkwan’s meddling takes care of him.

The race track is chaos as you press your character forward, occasionally blown off course by a blue shell moving to knock out whoever is in first. Half way through the course, you chance a glance at the other corners of the TV. Soonyoung and Dokyeom have finally started lap one, only for Soonyoung to fly over the edge at the first turn and wait to be rescued. Wonwoo is caught in the mess at the front of the pack, only able to maintain first for a fraction of a second before being sniped by a shell.

Once you round the third lap, you take your chance. Stopping in a corner of the track to down the rest of your drink, hoping everyone is too engrossed in the events on screen to see you start moving despite still swallowing a mouth full of beer.

This is when you see Wonwoo make his mistake. He pauses right before the finish line, cracking his can open and nearly choking on the large gulps in his haste. You're gaining quickly, barely a quarter of the last lap remains between your carts. When he finally finishes the can and picks up the controller, you unleash the blue shell you’d been saving. Rosalina goes flying as you sail by, Yoshi claiming fifth place.

“Suck it!” You scream, jumping up and down in victory; joined by Seungkwan who hollers with you as if he won too.

Wonwoo is shell-shocked, literally. He finishes seventh overall, pulling behind another computer character. Soonyoung is on the floor as he and Dokyeom fight for second to last place. The shame goes to Soonyoung as the race times out once again.

When you turn back to the couch you're met with another blinding smile as you drop into his lap.

“Looooooserrrr,” you taunt as you flick his nose gently.

“Yeah whatever.”

“It’s okay, maybe I can teach you sometime.”

He laughs, squeezing you into his chest. “God, you’re annoying.”

“It’s so lonely at the top.” You furrow your brow in mock sorrow.

Another race ensues, more chaos and screaming echoing through the living room. The heat of Dokyeom’s chest sinks through the back of your hoodie, strong plains of muscle shaking as he laughs with the group. When Seungkwan and Soonyoung face each other in a rematch you tempt Dokyeom upstairs, kissing behind his ear before leaning back and giving him the “look.”

The “I-want-your-dick-in-my-mouth” look.

Of which he very is familiar.

Dokyeom lurches forward, eager to appease, forgetting you're still in his lap until your weight knocks him back down. Shaking your head you stand and pull him up behind you, moving towards the stairs uninterrupted as Seungkwan and Soonyoung threaten each other's life and limb behind you.

Tacky wood shiplap digs into your spine uncomfortable as Dokyeom crowds you against the wall. His lips ghost along your jaw, hands on either side of your head to prevent him from crushing you. You don’t have the same concern, pulling him closer with the fabric of his sweater. The door to his room is a few feet to your left but the idea of separating for even a second to make it inside is pure agony.

“What does the winner want for her prize?” he whispers, teeth grazing your earlobe.

“Depends.” You sigh, grinding against the bulge of his thigh.

“On?”

“If my prize is separate from what I get for driving up here.”

Dokyeom nips your chin, dodging your attempt to connect your mouths.

“Depends on what you want.”

“I want you to fuck me.”

“I’m gonna do that anyway.”

“I wasn’t done yet.”

He stays silent, teeth bruising the sliver of shoulder peeking out under your collar.

“I want you to fuck me,” cut of with a hiss at his vigor, “and I want to film it.”

Backing out of your neck, Dokyeom blinks at you, mouth wide.

Peeking at him through your eyelashes, you wait for Dokyeom’s brain to restart. His mouth opens and closes, but nothing comes out. Not a rejection or an agreement. Just surprise.

A heaviness curls in your gut. You thought he’d like the idea, especially from his reaction to the pictures you sent last night. And the videos he’s sent over the months you’ve been hooking up. Videos of him jacking off, cumming on his own stomach, your name on his lips. But maybe you assumed too much.

“Ifyoudon’twanttowedon—”

But a scream interrupts your rant as he lifts you by your thighs, ankles locking around the top of his butt and arms tangling around his neck like a koala. You hold on for dear life as he carries you down the hallway.

Palming your ass harshly with one hand, the other scrambles to open the door as he licks up your neck. The door rattles on its hinges as he kicks it shut but the blood rushing through your ears muffles it.

“Yes, yes. Holy shit, yes.” He’s whining into your ear, hips rutting into your core as he lands unceremoniously on the bed, crushing you underneath him.

You’re shocked for a second, woefully unprepared for his enthusiasm. But another harsh rush against you, coupled with his hands pawing up your shirt to palm your chest makes you bold.

Two things you know to be true about Dokyeom:

First, he has a ragging praise kink. If you tell him he’s a good boy, he can come almost untouched.

Second, he loves the sight of his cum streaking across your body.

He was right to say he’ll enjoy this as much as you will.

“Yeah? Wanna come on my face?”

Another pathetic whine against your neck as he keeps curling his clothed cock against you. All of his weight settles between your hips as drives you to madness.

“Then go lock the door.”

#svthub #lee seokmin #lee seokmin x reader #svt x reader #seventeen fanfic #svt #dokyeom #seokmin x reader #seokmin smut #dokyeom x reader #dokyeom smut #🫡 highvern

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fxtalitygod · 1 year

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VII. ~Survival~

Summary: You were determined to survive longer than anyone, even if you were set to marry him.

Genre: Historical AU, angst, mature, suggestive, arranged-marriage

Warnings: Dark themes, theme/depictions of horror, swearing/language, suggestive, mentioned pedophilia, child molestation, attempted child sexual assault, mentions of adult murder, implications of impregnating, implied Stockholm Syndrome, images/depictions of dead bodies, slight misogynistic themes (if you squint).

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: Soooooo... this is the shortest chapter I've ever written, but it wasn't my intention. To be honest, I kept becoming unhappy with the results and kept going back to fix it, but it never felt right. At the end of the day, I decided to touch into an uncovered territory of (Y/n) that I had debated on for a while and enjoyed the results. I promise the next chapter will be longer and will cover more bases! Enjoy Chapter 7 of Survival!!

P.S. I know I said I'd get this chapter out in May, but it's currently June 1st, 12:26pm (for me), so take it or leave it!!! (╥﹏╥)

JJK Mlist•Taglist Rules•

• Pt.I • Pt. II • Pt. III • Pt. IV • Pt. V • Pt. VI • Pt.VII • Pt. VIII

"Y/n, wait up!"

You turned to see your little sister running over to catch up to your quick pace, grabbing her hand as she extended it to you. The two of you were pushing through the crowd in the market, holding on to each other as if it were for dear life. You would rather be damned than lose any of your younger siblings upon your watch.

"We need to hurry! We have to be home before Mother starts dinner," you noted breathlessly, "She cannot even start if we do not get these ingredients to her on time," referring to the basket you were holding close to your form.

Your sister gave an obedient response as she focused on your swift gait. You could only smile at the young girl's compliance— had it been any of your other more youthful siblings, they may have given you replies of retaliation out of their immaturity, but she was a sweet child who clearly looked up to and admired you. Turning your attention back towards the road of the market square, you saw that you were close to the exit that would lead you on the path home, sighing in relief as you slightly sped up your stride; however, before the two of you could exit you felt a hand wrap around your arm, pulling you and your sister into a secluded area.

"Now, what do we have here?" A gruff voice sounded, "Two pretty little buds have stumbled upon my path."

The voice was clearly a male's, and he was undoubtedly intoxicated as his speech was slurred, plus his stride was far from straight as he walked closer towards you. He circled the two of you like a vulture over a carcass, his eyes narrow and intimidating as he looked at your youthful figures, disgustingly licking his lips. The predator eventually moved into the light, revealing his aged appearance. The man was clearly an older one, his rough, oily skin and few missing teeth being a telling sign of his seniority; if he was any younger than you had assumed, he did not age gracefully.

“I-I’m sorry, sir,” you started, unintentionally stuttering as you spoke, “b-but we have to be home before sunset,” you finished explaining, your voice slightly cracking as you spoke due to the fear swelling in your chest. Despite your own terror, you tried to keep your stance straight to give your sister peace of mind, pulling the little girl behind you to act as her human shield.

“No worries,” the stranger chuckled, before reaching around you and grabbing your sister by her forearm before pushing you onto the ground, holding your chest down with his foot, “I’ll make you both into proper women before then,” the man closed his statement, making his advance on your younger sibling first.

You struggled as you tried to push the man’s foot off your torso, but your attempts were futile. The sick individual only grew tired of your punching, moving, and scratching as he decided to kick you to the nearby wall. Your gaze followed his figure as you weakly got up, only to be pushed into the wall once more, feeling cuts and scratches being made upon your flesh. The male took hold of something at the corner of your eye, still keeping your sister in a tight grip as she struggled. In moments, your hands and legs were tied, and a solid heavy stone was placed upon your lap to keep you from getting up anytime soon.

“Y/N!” Your sister screamed with tears in her eyes as the predator began to touch and kiss her pure skin with his contaminated flesh.

Your mind paced watching the scene, bile rising to your throat as you grew repulsed. Before long, the disgusting creature decided to yank at her clothes— that was the moment you snapped.

“Wait, take me instead! I’ll let you do whatever you want to me!” You yelled in haste. The decision was made with little thought, but as long as your sister was safe, you could live with the disgust.

The man paused to think for a moment before a repulsive grin overtook his expression, quickly going to restrain your sibling before removing your bonds. The moment you were free was the moment you were infested by his greedy touches. If the contact of his fingers and lips didn’t make you want to gag, the feeling of his bulge between your thighs made you want to vomit.

You thought that by sacrificing yourself for your sister's safety, you would be able to tolerate his blatant violation, but you could only feel your resolve weaken as his lingering touches began making your skin burn, but not in a good way. Despite your discomfort, you continued to indulge in his horrific actions, deciding to let out your emotions with tears and balled fists. Things weren't any easier as you heard the choked sobs of your younger sibling as she watched the setting, feeling your dignity and pride being washed away. Everything was going as the man wanted– he was getting his fixture of pleasure while two young girls suffered. If his hard-on wasn't a signal of his enjoyment, his chuckles and wretched words were an unmistakable banner.

"You're such a pretty little thing, so obedient for me. Y'know, I think that deserves a reward," the aged man cackled, moving his hands to remove his garments, changing course to strip you as well.

"(Y/N)!!!" your sister screeched, loud enough for her voice to echo in the alley.

Before you could say any words of comfort for the little girl, the man turned around, obviously not pleased with her outburst. The man's nostrils flared as he raised a hand and hit the young girl. The audible smack did not settle with you, and you could feel a temper you had never felt before build up inside you. You do not remember what happened next, but everything went pitch black for a second, and when you opened your eyes...

All you saw was the body of the pedophile lying on the floor, unmoving and breathless.

You stared at the lifeless figure, not knowing what to say as the scarlet liquid began to pool in a puddle beneath his form. Lifting your crown, you looked around to maybe see who the culprit of killing the man was; however, the alley was empty– just you and your sister. Speaking of the sibling in question, you swiftly moved to retrieve the girl only to see that her restraints were already broken and that she was unconscious, yet breathing.

Questions began to fill your mind, but you pushed them aside, focusing on the current circumstances. You wasted no more time as you went to lift the little girl onto your back, picking up the basket of ingredients before making your trek home. Although one problem was resolved, there was still another pressing matter...what would you tell your parents? Unfortunately, you did not have much time to think up an answer to that as you were now at your front door, sliding the object to reveal the worried expressions of your parents.

The couple rambled, asking what had happened, questioning why the two of you were late and battered. The more they interrogated, the louder the ringing in your ears started to develop, effectively drowning out their uneasy voices. You didn't know what to say or what to do. Would it be a good idea to tell them the truth? What if they wouldn't believe you? Would you be punished? How would they even react?

"We were playing in the fields and had an accident, but we're alright now. (S/n) fell asleep on our way back, she really exerted herself."

The lie was sour in your mouth, but you thought it was the better route when you pictured the corpse lying on the dirt floor. How would you explain such a gruesome sight? The answer is you would not because there wasn't an explanation to give– you didn't even know what had happened.

The night went on as usual, your parents buying your story and continuing regular activity. When your sister had risen, she didn't remember a thing, only saying the last thing she recalled was shopping at the market. Your parents didn't think much of it as they gave her a simple reply before having her eat with the family. When you were presented with your plate, you could hardly stomach the sight of the food; however, you knew it would be rude to waste a precious meal, so you ate and shoved whatever bile threatening to scale your esophagus down.

After the meal, you were tasked with helping your mother clean the dishes. It was quiet between you both as you scrubbed the dishware and bowls, not yet feeling comfortable to voice words. Although you opted to stay muted, your mother did not make indications she would do the same.

"Thank you for taking care of your sister," the woman started, giving you a warm smile, "she really looks up to you, and I could not be prouder of that."

Her words broke you then and there as your eyes glossed over, feeling tears cascade down your face. Your mom stopped what she was doing and took hold of your face to have you look at her, "Whatever is the matter, dear?"

"But I didn't take care of her. She got hurt today because of my incompetence. How can I call myself a good sister after that?" You choked out between quiet sobs.

"Accidents happen, my dear," the parent soothed as she pulled you in, petting your hair to calm you, "The best thing you can do is learn from them."

You could only nod into your mother's bosom, not trusting your own voice at the time being. Maybe she was right– you just had to ensure the incident wouldn't repeat itself. You repeated that statement mentally as she held you, so why did you still feel guilty.

"After all, you took care of it, my dear," your mother sounded, "You killed that vile man."

Your eyes shot open, your breathing heavy, and your pulse uneven as you woke from your nightmare. It wasn't the first time that night terror had occurred, but you had to admit it had been a while since it had. Ever since birthing your children, the nightmares had been more consistent.

At first, they were an occasional occurrence, but as the months passed, once or twice a month turned into three to four times a week. Some lasted longer than others, and others were more frightening than some. Either way, your once dreamless nights began to fill with discomforting and restless evenings. Despite the abnormality of some of the dreams, you only deduced it as a result of stress. You kept yourself levelheaded on the outside, but within, you were drowning in your overwhelming thoughts.

Ever since your everlasting pact with Sukuna, things around the temple began to change significantly, at least for you. Perhaps someone with an ordinary eye would not notice these small changes, but you were focused on the finer details. Minimal adjustments such as staffing, specifically the addition of two new guards. It was not a large sum of security, definitely not an army, but for even one guard to join Sukuna's ranks was unusual. Your husband had not much need for any more manpower as he had plenty of that as it already was; however, the stranger part is that they seemed to be patrolling the areas where the mothers resided. This did not go unnoticed by anyone as rumors were already spreading, but everyone seemed to hold an opposite reaction from your own.

"Well, they definitely do not hurt my eyes.~"

"I heard from one of the kitchen maids that they're Sukuna's spies. Apparently, one of the moms here is being distasteful."

"Our dear husband protecting his prizes, how sweet.~"

"This was bound to happen since last year's inspections– truly disappointing how many failed progeny there were."

Meaningless jokes, endearing words, bustling rumors, but no mentions of concerns. You found this new detail far from good because the guards were not focused on the mothers nor the children but rather on the surroundings of the room they inhabited. Their eyes were cautious and were jumping from place to place, their forms tense, almost as if they were waiting for something to happen. Despite these prominent cues, everyone seemed to overlook it– you had heard a few women state that `Sukuna did not want them looking upon his prizes.`

"Y/n-sama, I've been requested to escort you to the gardens," a voice sounded; however, it was not your attendant but rather Uraume who had called out to you.

You had been seeing the individual more often than usual– what started off as passing glances and minimal greetings had turned into confrontational meetings and regular appearances; this happened to be one of those instances. It did not take you long to rise from your relaxed state, moving to take hold of your children before turning to Sukuna's right hand. Uraume did not say anything, only giving you a bow and a gesture to follow them to the gardens, where your attendant would most likely be waiting. Usually, the girl would be the one who greeted you on these mornings, but because of your recurring night terrors, you opted to have her take the time to focus on other tasks, telling her that you could wake yourself; however, when you first brought this conversation up, she hesitated on the idea. After some convincing, your attendant finally caved and gave you the mornings to yourself, but that did not last long.

It took around a week or two for Sukuna to figure out that you were spending most of your mornings alone, which your partner did not appreciate. Despite his detesting of the news, he did not lash out at anybody for it– the man seemed more apprehensive than infuriated. It took only a few days for Sukuna to appoint his direct helper to retrieve you. From then on, you were seen with Uraume for most of the morning before they left to perform their other duties.

You followed the individual down the corridor, glancing at the walls and what inhabited them. There wasn't much decorating the temple as Sukuna was not a sentimental man– he hardly kept his offerings unless they were of necessity. The walls were blank and lifeless, and viewing them could drive you insane if you focused on them.

"Y/n-sama, do you love Sukun-sama?"

Your breath hitched as you moved your gaze to look at the back of Uraume's head. There question left you speechless; however, it was not because you did not have an answer but rather their sudden interest that took you aback. The person did not vocalize their thoughts much, but you could always tell when they were thinking to themselves.

"Yes, he is my husband. Why would I not love him?" you quickly stated.

"You do not have to lie to me (Y/n)-sama."

You could not help but worry at Uraume's comment. Did they know your intentions? Were they going to remove your twins from your care? Had they already discussed this with Sukuna? How long did you have left?

"And where is your evidence of that, Uraume?" you managed to keep your voice leveled despite the anxiety creeping up on you, but you needed to keep your composure if you wanted to win this little tussle, being if you had to fight at all.

A chuckle resonated through the hall.

"You're right... I have no proof, only my own conspiracies. I admire your ability to hold that over me– your defensive side is a site to see. If I'm being honest, when you first came to the temple, I did not think much of you as I thought you were just another woman to bear Sukuna's kin; you proved me wrong (Y/n)-sama. I do not understand how you managed, but you have Sukuna-sama wrapped around your finger like I have never seen before," Uruame voiced, a lightness to their tone before continuing, "Perhaps it is for the best, after all, you are both seem satisfied with your current standing."

For the rest of the trip, you sustained the following stillness, only giving the individual a hum in response to their last comment. When the garden came into view, you internally sighed in relief, glad to rid yourself of this mind-wracking conversation. Too bad things couldn't stay that way.

"Y/n-sama, your village has started to retaliate against Sukuna's command. Truth be told, it has been going on for the past year; however, things have started to escalate— for the sake of your family unit, keep yourself on guard," The righthand warned, turning to leave you to your daily activities.

Just peachy, another occurrence to write down in your list of troubles.

You would not get proper rest in a while.

Taglist:

@littlemochi @mistalli @youngbeansprout @bbylime @bangtan-forever1479 @idktbhloley @izayas-rings @o3o-aya @pyschopotatomeme @persephonehemingway @otomaniac @meforpr3sident @alurafairy @nezuscribe @my-simp-land @zukuphilia @niya729 @spiritofstatic @bbittersw33t @kashasenpai @decaysan @honeybaegle @ygslvr @outrofenty

#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #ryomen sukuna #sukuna fanfic #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna #tw stockholm syndrome #tw death mention #tw dead body #tw suggestive #tw pedophila mention #tw child molestation

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budsofrose · 1 year

Text

Okay uhh im having brainrot so bare with me

Modern au!Sanemi leaving the office, having finished up grading paperwork and having to rush home since he promised Genya he’d help with math.

He walks home so he could save up on money, and as he walks down the and passes by the halls he notices you in the school courtyard, sketchbook and pen in hand, doodling while simultaneously trying to focus on schoolwork.

He decides to walk up to you and ask what you’re doing out here since school hours have ended, but before he does he sees your pen drop and roll over near his foot. Abashed seeing him come into view as you try to pick up the pen, as he crouches down and gets up to give it to you. The pen looked like itd seen better days. Beat up with scratches, teeth marks, and the paint chipping off.

“Here.” He gestures, and you gratefully take it. Fingers brushing up against one another contrasting from his rough overworked fingers to your soft and delicate ones, eliciting a shiver from him.

“Im so sorry sensei, I hadn’t seen you were there.” You bow apologetically, your shirt showing cleavage and seeing it mushed up together in the process, being painfully flashed by sanemi.

He tisks with pink dusting his cheeks, he states “Well obviously. Why are you still here? Class hours ended a while ago, and the school’s closin up.”

You stammer, “Ah, well I usually stay a bit and study with friends, but they left a while earlier.” Looking down at your notebook and closing it off, as you start to pack your things.

“I’ll walk you home, its not safe for a student to be out for so long.” He offers. You try to protest but he’s already walking away, expecting you to follow him as you hastily pack your things.

As his figure slowly shrinks the farther he goes, you decided to just shove your items in your bag rather than put it in order. You can organize it later on right? Holding your bulky pencilcase in hand as you jog your way to catch up.

He glances at you for brief moment looking down at your shirt before slowing his pace so you could catch up to him.

“Thank you for offering to walk me home sensei, I really lost track of time today.” ‘Lost track of time daydreaming about you’ you internally thought.

He grunts out a ‘no problem’ before you two continue on your walk. Tension is seeping through the both of you, but its not long before the silence is broken again, but this time its surprisingly by Sanemi asking you a question.

“Whats up with your pen? Why’s it all fuck’- why’s it all beat up like that? Dont ya got other pens or something?” You chuckle at his little slip up, him having to withdraw from cursing since it wasn’t really professional, inside or outside of school campus, especially around a student.

“Oh? My pen? Well its my favorite pen ive had as a goodluck charm. I always try and stock up on refills since I like to write and draw a lot.” You say, gesturing to your pencilcase in hand.

“Im still finding a replica of it, since its really worn down now, it holds a special place in my heart. Not as special as my other pens though.” You fiddle with your pencil case, opening it up to showcase your pen.

“Didn’t know it meant that much to you.” He says before coming to an abrupt stop causing you to also stop just a few steps ahead of him.

“Why dont you tell me all about your pens, hm?” He says as he comes closer to you.

You didn’t know how long its been, but it felt like hours. God knows where you are, having to painstakingly explain to Sanemi about each an ever one of the pens you own as he slowly slides it inside you when finished doing so. Sobbing, as overstimulation hits you as he trys to bully one more pen inside your cunt from your bulky pencil case' as he rubs circles on your clit to sooth you.

You don’t know how you allowed yourselt to get roped into this, but you’re not complaining. as Sanemi strokes the insides of your thigh coaxing you to open up more.

“Good girl, such a good girl. how about just one more pen, just one more, alright? Maybe then ill take them out and give you something a bit bigger. Hows that sound?"

Genya never really got that help in the end.

I am by NO means a writer, like kudos to anyone (ao3 rizz) that writes at all, I just though abt this and said why not 🤷‍♂️

#demon slayer #kny #kimetsu no yaiba #sanemi shinaguzawa #genya #genya shinazugawa #sanemi #shinazugawasanemi #modern au #kny modern au #reader insert #sanemi x reader smut #sanemi x reader

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harvardhaugland · 1 year

Text

playing with his hair - jamie ♡

a/n: not my first smut ive written but rather posted! once again feel free to send me sf6 related prompts or something jhejrhjrbr

jamie is rather subby in this… hmm yes… massaging his scalp or playing with his hair would be a weak spot for him i think. like when u scratch behind a cats ears… anyways nsfw below the cut vv

You’d never really seen Jamie as the type to get stressed out often— but on rare occasions, being known as a “peacekeeper” around the city keeps him too occupied to the point where it’s hard for him to keep some time in to enjoy himself.

He comes over to your place on days like these, beg you to take care of him, massage him where he’s sore.

Jamie shrugs off his jacket, laying his head on your lap and stretching out across the couch like a cat. he’ll let you slowly untangle his hair, carding your fingers through it once it’s let down and loose.

When you slowly massage your fingers into his scalp— he lets out this drawn out groan of relief. He bumps his head up against your hand, silently encouraging you to keep going. It’s almost like he was teasing you right now. His pants are down low enough to show his v-line, you could almost see the outline of his dick through them.

He’s tempting you, when you move your hand to his chest, squeezing his pec.

“You mind taking care of something else too—?” he asks, his fingers play with the hem of his pants. There’s a scheming look on his face. As if he had this sort of thing on his mind all day, so you oblige him. Your hands slide down his body, tracing the outline of his stomach, your thumb rubs the ridge of his pelvis and you start to snake your way under the waistband of his underwear.

You can feel him writhe under you, excited. His muscles tense when you finally break the waistband— relaxing when he feels your touch on his actual skin.

“You always want too much from me.” you joke, one hand wrapped in his hair, the other wrapped around the length of his erection, slowly stroking him. Jamie would usually retort back at that, sassy like he usually was. But this time he won’t even quip back, instead he simply sucks in the air through his teeth, letting out another soft moan. He’s so much like a cat, it makes you laugh a little.

He’s so painfully hard in your hand, his back is arched and precum leaks from the tip of his cock. You circle your thumb around his tip— he lets out a particularly loud, needy whimper. It makes you rub his head to soothe him.

“You’re so sensitive today.” you let out a tiny chuckle.

“God, you’re killin’ me here.” he says, quiet and breathy. His breath hitching when you speed up the pace. He’s rutting his hips up into your hand, fast. His cock twitches. You decide to lightly yank on his hair to get him to slow down and savor the moment. He gasps, letting out a whine, “Baby..” he pouts. Jamie looks up at you, pleadingly.

“Calm down before you get a cramp.” you remind him, “You’re supposed to relax. Remember?”

He nods. His face red, hot and bothered. He has his hands bunched up into the fabric of the couch, “Can I cum? Please?” he begs, his voice is strained, his cock twitches as you continue the same slow pace of stroking. It’s fun to see him like this, he seems to be enjoying it as much as you do. You continue on to slowly pump his cock, building up and speeding up the pace of your hand.

Your other hand is still in his messy hair, snaking around to cup his face, your fingers run over his lips— Jamie’s mouth is parted open, he pants, trying to catch up with the speed of your hand. He repeats your name, over and over like a chant.

It takes some thought, but it’s his day today, not yours, “Go ahead baby, you’ve earned it.”

He lets it all go, making a mess all over his stomach, and your hands. Jamie lets out one big breath of air, collapsing in exhaustion. He looks up at you with a pleased smile, “You are..” he breathes in, “The best student I’ve ever trained.” Jamie chuckles.

#street fighter x reader #sf6 x reader #street fighter 6 #street fighter #sf6 #jamie siu #jamie siu x reader #THIS IS MY FIRST POST LIKE THIS THIS IS SUPER EMBARRASSING I NEED WORDS OF ENCOURAGEMENT AFTER THIS #ugh the dividers didnt go on right #whatever

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xr0tt3nxfl3shx · 8 months

Text

👁💊My Medicine is underdeveloped and my Amygdala won't work.💉👁

Twomp[AU] fanfiction + art !! Pertains to the events in this post. [No beta we die.]

⚠️‼️TW: VOMITING / OVERDOSE / SUICIDAL IDEATION / UNREALITY / CORRUPT MENTAL HEALTH SYSTEM / GENERAL MENTAL ILLNESS THEMES‼️⚠️

A/N: i didnt wanna mention it tbh but just in case, ive been down the chemical consumption road 3 times, an i mention because i know the internet has opinions on mental illness in writing. But ive been there myself. All up close and personal like. so i think i can speak on it (dont castrate me)

POV: 👁Argos👁

I scratch at my skin in the dark of my room as if that'll hold in the tears from spilling over my burning red cheeks. The feeling of rage and overwhelming depression clash within me, and leave me to switch every few minutes between cursing the name of every therapist who ever told me that "I'm not even trying to get better" and crying over the idea that they might be right.

My heartbeat is so vigorous that it feels like at any moment the tendons will tear away and my heart will burst in my ribs. How could anyone say that to me? I seethe and hiss through my gritting teeth. Why can't I get better? I cry enough to fill an ocean and nearly drown in my tears.

I should be able to control all of this by now, I'm not a child. Yet, I can't stop thinking about putting the heads of those who hurt me on a platter. Or banging my head on my bedroom wall hard enough to dull the heartbreak. My eyes are running dry from all the tears, I've been at this for a while. My head is pounding from the adrenaline. All reasonable thoughts are drowned out, with intrusive and irrational ones taking the place of my internal voice of reason.

I can make it better, I can make this better. I just need to try a little harder! Just.. go a little further. These feelings, it's just a chemical imbalance right?

I'm running out of options, types of therapy, pills, at this point I might as well just get a lobotomy. I'm sure my therapist would like that.

There's still time to make this right. I don't have to end my life to end my suffering right?

I can prove them wrong. I will prove them wrong. It's just a chemical imbalance. I just need to fix it.

I rummage through the medicine cabinet above my bathroom sink, overlooking the blood crusting around the drain. There has to be something in here that can make my head stop pounding or my thoughts quiet down if not for just a little while. Maybe everything all at once? Yeah that should do!

Laid out in front of me on the cold tiled floor of my bathroom are various pill bottles. The amount of pills actually in them is varied, they like to switch my meds every other week it seems. I try to be hasty with this, pouring out a small handful of gel capsules into my hand. Each one smooth, glossy, and slightly cool to the touch.

You know, I've been here before, and typically there's some survival instinct in me, paralyzing my hands before I can do any damage. But all I can feel is anguish. And anger. And there's no more room for self preservation in me.

I take my first dose before I can come down from my emotion fueled adrenaline rush. Quickly now don't let the self preservation come back. I take my next dose of a new pill type, a tablet. It was a bad idea doing this dry but oh well!

Before I know it I'm slumped against my bathroom door, unable to continue my self medication on account of the mounds of pills I dry swallowed having begun triggering my gag reflex. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't anxious about this, but it had to be done. My therapist is always urging me to take steps in the right direction!

(Though admittedly he never mentioned which direction is the right one.)

I make it back to my bed, dragging my feet and leaning on the wall for support the whole way. It's not even five minutes in when I start to feel the effects. I probably should've eaten before taking my pills like the instructions say.

This is different though, I feel my connection to reality slip right through my jittery fingers. Like the shadows in my room are divulging their presence. Like they are reaching out their hands, ready to take hold of me, pull me in and make me one with unreality. An emptiness overcomes me, something I've truly never felt before. And it's the strangest thing, because simultaneously I've never felt more alive in my life.

Everything is really funny, I've never noticed how funny everything is up until now. Every little unorganized thought that pops up in my foggy, spacing-out head manages to get a strained laugh out of me.

Visual snow floods my peripheral, the colors of the world begin to become one with the static in my eyes.

Ah, I remembered what I was going to do in here. I need to call Mr. Plant. I need him to know that I'm going to get better, and how much I love him of course. Oh he'll never understand just how much I love him! I love him to death, haha! Literally.

I dial in the number. Moving has proven difficult, like trying to control a vehicle while tired and out of it, or in my case trying to control a vehicle through the most debilitating brain fog I've ever experienced. The disconnection from body and thought is almost calming.

The ringing of the phone is such a funny thing as well. I could lose myself in the methodical rhythm and loose vibrations running up my hands- oh look here he's answered!

"M‐r… plant! I ha-ve.. s o me thi.. ng to tell you."

I am fighting to get the words out. The weak sounds I manage to get out of my raspy throat come out in uneven tones with jarring stutters. Why is it so hard to speak?

"I took.. a lot o-f... my me-ds. Ha-ha!" He hangs up immediately.

Is he not happy for me? It wasn't long before I heard sirens closing in. Did he call the cops on me? That's no fair, no fair at all.

I've never been rolled into the back of an ambulance on a stretcher before but there's a first time for everything I suppose. It's too bad I'm too out of it to really experience it.

In the ambulance is when the first wave of nausea hits. I could barely even feel the EMT insert the IV or hear when they asked me questions.

———

The heart palpitations do their diligence distracting from the perforations left in my arm from the injections of various medications and the IV drip.

My respiration is just as irregular as my heart's chemical damaged rhythm. I feel like I'm drowning in this heavy air and it feels like the knots in my stomach have spread to my heart. This pain is so unbearable that I feel the need to crave it out of myself with a blade.

The world is doubling- no tripling, blurring, and mushing together all at once. I can feel the hum of the fluorescent hospital light buzz through my head. The scent of rubbing alcohol and sterilized equipment is evident throughout the cold medical facility.

By my own hands I've made my body a place unsuitable for living. I've "almost drugged myself to an early grave" as the hospital staff keep reminding me.

Speaking of body, I can no longer tell where I end and the wires of the EKG machine begin. Neuropathy has set in and nerve sensation has dulled for the most part, except in my stomach and heart where it hurts the most of course. But me and the machines they have me hooked up to might as well be one as long as they are taking the place of my dysfunctional body systems.

When they run the EKG scan, which they do about every half hour, they ask me to stay as still as I can, but it's hard to control the shaking when I don't know where it comes from in the first place. I'm by no means cold, or if I am I really can't feel it.

Have I mentioned the shaking? The tremors? I need to grow accustomed to the flavor of raw stomach acid soon, because that's all I've been throwing up anymore. It's all that's left.

The nausea begins to build all over again, like my stomach is writhing and contorting in my torso. I can feel the knots being tied. Over the next few minutes it builds and builds, I'd do anything to stop the encroaching bile now. The nausea completely overwhelms my senses right before another round of the most violent retching I've ever experienced. Accompanied by the most awful squelching and splattering sounds as it hits the rest of vomit already resting at the bottom of the bag.

I feel like I'm nearing being turned inside out everytime it happens. And I've filled yet another vomit bag. This isn't going to stop for days as the doctor told me. I doubt I'll get the luxury of unconsciousness.

The activated charcoal they gave me to drink is like this black sludge, "slow and steady now, don't drink so fast you throw it all up but not so slow that you succumb to the consequences of your own actions." Well maybe that's not what they really said but it's how it felt. I can tell the staff are judging me, I just know it! They think I deserve this.

At least the charcoal is cherry flavored.

My many eyes dart around the clean and pristine hospital room erratically, glancing off in every direction. I don't want anyone to look at me anymore. I can't stand the buzz of the lights and I can barely bring myself to move enough to blink. Or even move enough to breathe. I am much too dizzy and light-headed to even consider standing up. I'm so dizzy I could swear I'm phasing in and out of my body. The only thing keeping my consciousness bound to this body is the unending pain ancoring me in the reality of my situation.

It's growing increasingly unbearable.

Above all else I am losing my mind trying to figure out where I went wrong tonight. These chemicals were supposed to fix all these feelings. The pills were supposed to fix me. My psychiatrists and therapists all told me that I'm sick, disordered, and all I needed was to buy a few more medicines.

It must be my fault, it must be if hundreds of milligrams of mood stabilizers can't just make it better.

Tell me, anyone tell me, why I'm so useless that I can't even help myself?

Why am I so worthless that my medicine won't work on me?

I am almost entirely suspended in unreality. The prozac, olanzapine, mirtazapine, and everything other useless drug they gave me were meant to cure me. I've tried everything!

I've done the very most I can to try and make the bad thoughts quiet down. And are the thoughts that tell me "I'd be better dead", my own thoughts, or a symptom of one of my diagnoses?

Is the reason I'm like this the same reason I don't deserve love, or do I not deserve love because I'm like this? I want to get better. I swear I really do.

So why does no one believe me?

"Sir, you have a visitor." The nurse informs me in a harsh yet hush tone.

The words barely make it through my chemical head. I'm practically catatonic in this hospital bed. But when I do process them I pray to every divine that it is who I think it is.

Red petals on the top and bottom, two yellow petals, one pink and one blue. I was right!

I can't believe he came all the way down to this void to come see me. I really thought he'd stay home. I don't think anyone or anything could possibly understand the pure desperation I feel coursing through my veins. Right alongside the saline they're using to flush my IV of course.

My boyfriend entered my hospital room, #34 I believe, I saw when they rolled me in on the stretcher. Tears well up in my dried eyes, I couldn't feel enough of anything to cry while drugged out of my head but seeing him, well, I need him more than I have ever needed anyone before.

The look on his face when he saw me is one I didn't know he was capable of, pure horror even. I must look horrible stained with my own bile in these itchy hospital scrubs. He is quick to clasp my hand in his and rub along my knuckles and the back of my palm. Through the blurred vision and tears I can't even make him out anymore but I don't need to, I just need his touch. I need it so badly.

I have no depth perception at the moment, or hand eye coordination, and again everything is quite blurry so it was mostly unintentional when I pulled him in by the sweater. He leans into me and wraps his arms under my upper back, holding me against his chest.

He's warm against me, holding me gently in a hospital bed. I can't feel much at all other than the pain, his warmth was the only other sensation I could pin down in my head. It was such a harsh contrast from how I normally see him acting.

With him so close I can't tell where he ends and I begin this time. Even in one of my most painful moments, I feel a familiar comfort in my palpitating heart. He's the only thing keeping me from going entirely mad. He has no idea what I'd give to melt into him right here right now, become an amalgamated abomination of our half hazardly bonded flesh and bone. I'm afraid I'd ruin him and all his perfection with me and all my misshapen and grotesqueness.

I am especially disgusting as of now, making him worry about me like this. Can I not be horrible for just one second? Selfish, that's it. I must be selfish. I take another go at speaking a moment after we pull away. All I can muster is an apology that comes out more like a pathetic stammer through my tears.

The way his cold gaze met mine shook me. I've never seen real tears stream down his face. He looks so... distraught. Its like he's looking right through me and simultaneously looking directly at me. And on top of everything I've never seen him sign so frantically. He rarely signs at all.

"Please don't be sorry."

…

"Don't strain your voice."

"Just stay right there, okay? Do you need anything?"

"I'll get you anything, I'd do anything for you."

I knew he cared about me, but I guess I never realized just how much. Or maybe I just forgot. How horrible am I?

Is it possible I'm actually worth something to him? Worth enough for him to call me an ambulance, worth enough for him to comfort me in the hospital bed, worth enough for him to cry over me?

Was I really worth staying with all this time?

My thoughts are interrupted by another round of retching, it seems those knots in my stomach weren't just anxiety. Mr. Plant holds my hand through it. I'm gonna be here a while, I know that. But he's here with me, and from the looks of it he isn't leaving my side anytime soon.

I'll make it out alive, not for myself, just for him. And for the possibility that maybe he needs me just as much as I need him. I wish my mind wasn't so scrambled, so I could find the words to express just how much I love him.

I love you Mr. Plant.

#overdose #vomiting #tw overdose #tw vomit #unnamed twomp au #twomp #ashur gharavi #argos twomp #the world of mr plant #twomrp #twomp fanfic #plargos #eye love you #I'm so sorry regular twomp enjoyerd #YOU JUST GOT [COMICALLY ANGSTY TWOMP AU]'D #Spotify

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onepiece-asl-lover · 5 months

Text

READER my au X ASL TRIO

Part 2 "help from strangers"

Eventually you regain consciousness but deside to keep your eyes close to relax and know your surrondings for a little. You hear whispers and talking from some people around you. All words they are saying mash up into a mess when they are speaking over eachother "girl...dont know...healed..dangerous...safe...child..Collar....chains...medicine....14?" When trying to puzzle those words together nothing pops into your brain. You feel a matress like thing under you but you still feel chains connected to you.

You slowly open your eyes and squint as light from a ceiling light hits your eyes. "Boss she woke up!" *random ahh shouting* You see you have bandages around your body your not cleaned up but atleast the bleeding the cuts are healing, then you look at the chains and they looked like somone was trying? to pry them open well barley. How stupid they must be, the metal is seastone. A man or a woman you think? Turns to look at you.

"Who are you"

You just look at him and blink then you speak up, more hoarse then expected but you kind of did drink some of the saltwater while swimming to shore.

"im R-reader"

"Reader? Ive heard that name before, Celestial Dragons slave girl!"

"Yes,sir"

"Yes sir"? Im a women!"

You just look at her, your face completely still and emtionless.

"Stop staring!"

"...umm t-thanks for taking care of me?"

"Taking care"? Dont tell me you're going to stay here?.."

"..."

"Stop staring! And I heard you were a bratty kid too"

"..."

"I don't wan't to take care of one more brat!"

"..."

You kept looking at her blankly not a single sprakle in your eyes. You can see a few sweatdrops going down her face and her teeth grits together as you keep looking at her then after a 1 min staring contest she sighs and turns around.

"Fine, Y/n, ill let you stay but you have to get to work next morning with Ace, and Luffy!"

You wanted to cry from relief but you were taught not to cry or you will be punished severely. So you nod and sat up, ignoring the pain going through your body.

"Thank you ma'am"

"Ya ya, your welcome"

The rest of the Mountain bandits go back to eating and you can see meat around the room. Then you see two boys, one with a Strawhat and the biggest smile you ever seen, rushing to your side while the other, with freckles, stays put and coutinue to eat an enormous amount of meat.

"Hey! My name is Luffy! Let's be friends!"

Danm this kid's enthusiastic but it make you feel...happy? Nobody showed you this much equality and kindness expect for that orange hair lady but she said it in a meaner voice.

"Okay."

"Yay!...hey what is that"

You see him point to the seastone collar around your neck

"Its a shock collar made out of seastone, if it is bothered to much it will start to beep then...it will explode"

It hurt to say that. Having to experience when you were in the Clestial dragons hands, innocent people dying becuase of a shock collar.

You turn to look at Luffy as he inspects your injury with a smile. He reminds you of an person you met a long time ago.

"You must be so brave to have all these scars and scratches! You will look so strong and tough in battle! I got one when I stabbed my cheek, but Shanks said having scars dosen't make you a pirate but I think it makes you look strong! blah blah"

As the boy continues talking you have a warm feeling in your chest you haven't felt in a long time he seems so sweet. When anybody looks at you they look at you like you were a piece of trash that has no worth

"Hey Y/N how old are you?"

"Im 11"

The room goes silent and the moutain bandits are upside down on the floor for some reason and even that freckle face boy looks at you

"Wow, she is tall for an 11 year old, I thought she was 15"

"Ace is 10 and he's only 3/4 of her size and she is just one year older than him"

The room goes back to the chatter and you look at the freckled face boy who you expect to be Ace, grunts and turns away from you.

After eating

You see Luffy run after Ace outside shouting his name as some mountain bandits try to stop him but to no luck. You see the lady who people call "boss" or "Dadan" sigh as she starts drinking some alcohol while other also drink some aswell.

You lie down and close your eyes to get some rest as you here drunk Dadan talking about the boy "Ace".

You thought a little eavesdropping wouldnt hurt right..?

"Im already giving up on Ace, too!" "I dont care if he dies or not. I'll just tell Garp it was an accident.""It's true that 'the devil's children have devils luck''! "He's the devil's son"! "If the Goverment finds about this, what do you think they'll do to us?!"

"Easy, Easy, Boss"

"You're drinking too much!"

As you open your eyes a bit you see Ace behind the curtain, and it doesn't look like you were the only one eavesdropping, and you can tell those words that Dadan said hurt him a bit.

You see Ace walk to his bedroom and close the door. A little while after, Dadan told you to go sleep in the room aswell. It did hurt to walk while still healing from all the blood loss and scars.

You went into the room as you quickly put a mattress down and before you lie down and went to sleep, you glance at Ace as he seems asleep.

"Ace, I dont think you're a devil's child, I think your just..misunderstood" you mumble

Ace sits up and goes to look at you with a shock face

"what did you sa-"

But he sees you're already asleep and sighs.

"Hm?"

He looks at the collar around your neck. He gently adjust it so it hurt you to bad. As he sighs again he lies down and falls asleep.

Next morning

You woke up pretty early 2am , only sleeping for 2 hours but if felt nice sleeping after being able to sleep only for 30 min when in the hands of the Celestial Dragons. You saw Ace and Luffy still sleeping and you gently tuck the blanket so it covers them.

You went the main area and saw it was a bit of a mess from yesterday. You started mopping the floor and laundry then started polishing the wepons and shoes.

You sat on the floor and waited for everyone to wake up. You see the room is spotless and clean. You wait for everyone to wake up, you wonder what their expressions will be? Guess have to see when they wake up.

#one piece #Portgas Ace #reader x character #asl brothers #one piece luffy #portgas d ace #emtionless #used to be slave #freedom #family?

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chimerahyperfix · 2 months

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YAAAAYYY MORE IN CRAFT AND CAGES CONTENT!!!! YIPPEE WOOHOO!!!! Ive been meaninf 2 do one of these 4 a while (shoutout 2 the handful of drafts for these lost in the vast expanse of my Drafts) Time for The Horrors smile.

(content warnings - self harm, suicide + idealation [both simply mentioned but. It’s pretty obvious what’s going on], short but relatively graphic depiction of death/injury - this one is heavy)

There are many ways for you to end a loop. You don’t like any of your options, but you have them. The House is tall enough to jump from. Messing up crafting the bomb works, but it takes longer than you'd like it too-- and Change forbid someone finds you. The tears are nice enough, better than anything else you have access to. The King; well, the less he kills you the better.

The EASIEST option you have is in your room.

Easiest. Not the kindest- just the easiest.

It’s not hard to see how many… extremely dangerous chemicals you have. They litter your desk you should have cleaned it you should have cleaned it you should have cleaned it.and fill your closet. Spilled over and swept up and hid in all the little nooks and crannies of your shared room. Mirabelle knows not to bother using them for anything - and thank Change, because you're not sure what you'd do if you hurt her because you were careless. Yeah, you two have your little squabbles; but in the end it's all fun and games to you. You don't want to hurt her.

You don't want to hurt anyone, actually. Barring the King, of course. That was never your intention. Every now and then, your mind wonders to all those cut-off loops, and you wonder if they continued without you. It's something you've started to manually block out.

They are the fastest the quietest the lonliest an avaliable option. And it sucks, because they hurt. They hurt so, so much. But it’s the fastest way out and you don’t have to make others watch.

The first few times; they were all accidents. Back when you couldn't make the craft bomb fast, back when it took you hours to craft -- it's hard work, making a bomb from scratch! -- you'd always eventually mess up trying to take a drink of your water.

The first time was the worst. You don't remember all of it, not really, not anymore -- blotted that one out as much as you possibly can. You do remember the pain. It was basically acid, so it absolutely tore your throat up.

Everything after the realization point is blurry. You remember screaming, maybe, and blood spilling everywhere. A hand smacking your back. Choking to death. Waking back up at the very same desk with the lingering feeling of gore mashed against your mouth.

Even now, you can still taste it. Like the blood and toxins have seeped into your very being, coating your teeth and your throat. If you bit something you'd probably poison it, too, like a snake, or a scorpions tail.

It's... not that bad, now. You can hold down the sounds that scream in your chest, and simply lay down and die in a puddle of lightless, and that's fine. You've gotten the whole ''look like your sleeping at your desk'' shtick down too. It still hurts, crab does it ever, but you must've burned through all the nerves in the area recently, bevause the pain just gets further and further away. Smaller. Quieter.

Eventually, there's a possibility someone will find you. It happened the first time around. It's not a thought you'd like to entertain, but every hypothesis has a line of reasoning behind it, and eventually the variable will pop up. You very well could be running on a tightrope of when the other side will drop, or a coin flip or something. Until that actually happens, you swear off thinking about it.

For now, you close the door behind you and make your way to your little glass bottle-ridden prison. You need to loop back.

#in craft and cages #claude looping au #isat claude #isat #in stars and time #isat spoilers #in stars and time spoilers #isat act 3 spoilers #<-pretty sure this happens in act 3 canonically #cranked this one out while listening 2 the new will stetson+rachie mesmerizer cover #cw sui ideation #cw sui mention #cw self harm mention #this one’s pretty small compared 2 some of the other ones I’ve done up but #I was craving writing this au again and the fic is Taking Forever #[see: slow writer + artfight] so this’ll have 2 do for now #the vauge implications claude now has poison spit is also something I really like. go off girly be venomous #is that canon? ya probably. is that how any of this works? no but idc #chimera writes

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mrs-ghost-2 · 1 year

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Heyy! I was wondering about needy!ghost with a ma’am kink? (yes this is the same person) thank you!!!

Hey again! 💜 I hope this is what you were wanting!

Needy!ghost/simon, f!reader

Not looked over so all mistakes are my own, anything medical-related is my own guess, minors DNI!

Word count: 3.4K

Warnings: language, oral (m receiving), unprotected intercourse (wrap before tap!), established relationship

It’d been a long mission and everyones’ nerves were fried. A mission that was supposed to have taken a week turned into nearly three weeks gone and the base was buzzing with anxious energy when the helicopter carrying 141 finally touched down that evening. Some of the team walked off with scratches and a few bruises while the others got carried into the med bay to be stitched up and get some much-needed fluids to help regain strength.

You had been reclining in your chair in the bay, boots kicked up and laptop residing on your thighs while you typed away at some notes for another soldier’s file when the men started filing in. Four of your empty beds became filled and you jumped to your feet to meet with your aid for a quick run down of what happened. You noticed Ghost was occupying one of the four beds and had his eyes locked on you, impatiently waiting for his turn.

“It looks like some stitch jobs and IV fluids for hydration and blood to help them recoup at a faster rate. McTavish will need to be checked again in 24 hours due to a likely concussion and Lieutenant Riley will need an extra transfusion in three days due to blood loss from a knife wound found in his abdomen.” You nodded along as you listened to the woman in front of you, eyes never straying from Ghost’s as you visually checked him for more injuries than what you were told.

“Sounds good. I’ll take Price and the Lieutenant while you take McTavish and Gaz.” She nodded and handed you the two files for your patients.

With a quick thank you and dismissal, you swung by your desk to grab your stethoscope and notepad before going to the first bed occupied.

“Captain Price, I’ll be right over to start your stitches but I need to set Lieutenant Riley up on an IV first.” The man nodded, exhaustion evident, and laid back with his good arm draped over his eyes to rest.

You turned your attention to the hulking man in front of you, outwardly professional but your eyes betrayed your worry. It wasn’t exactly a secret but it wasn’t well-known either about Ghost and yours personal relationship outside of work and especially off-base. So you did your best to not play favorites while on the clock.

“Lieutenant, I’d say it’s good to see you but I like it better when it’s not in regard to your health. Do you mind telling me what happened while I get you set up?” Ghost hated when you used his title outside of the bedroom; he was only a Lieutenant to other soldiers, never to you.

“Surprise attack half-way through the mission. That’s what took us so long.” Ghost quipped, teeth gritted in pain that he refused to admit while watching your every move.

You refused to let it hinder you as you got the tourniquet and needle ready, reaching out for the transfusion bag when it was handed to you.

“And the knife wound?” You continued, motioning for him to roll up his sleeve to above his elbow before you got to work.

“Minor inconvenience.” He grunted in annoyance when you tied off his arm to find a vein and he looked away when you slid the needle under his skin.

“Minor?” You huffed, undoing the tie and tossing it to the side as you slid his arm under the blanket since the transfusion could make him cold.

“Didn’t hit anything important.” he snapped, head falling back to the cot as he became effectively stuck while he received the blood he knew he needed.

“Watch the tone, Lieutenant.” You retorted, rising from the chair at the side of his bed and yanking your gloves off to throw in the trash can.

“I’ll be back to fix your stitches and check your other injuries. For now, why don’t you try and rest?” Simon-finally feeling more like himself than Ghost- nodded and closed his eyes as he tried to rest and not worry about your tone and possible anger at his actions. He knew he shouldn’t have snapped at you, but there was still adrenaline coursing through his bloodstream and he was still wired to attack. He sighed, knowing he’d be paying for it later.

You gathered the tools you would need to stitch up the gash across Price’s temple after setting up his bag of fluids to help while you worked. The man was easy to talk to and he kept you smiling as you tied off and taped his stitches before setting to work on the slice across his forearm. Simon’s anxiety continued to build as he waited for you to return; partially from the needle still in his arm and from nerves leftover at your reaction. You made quick work of the rest of Price’s injuries and unhooked him from the IV after you were done, sending him on his way with instructions to rest and get some food for the night.

As soon as the bay was empty except for you and Ghost, you turned on your heel to face the large man waiting for you. He had listened, staying in bed while he received the blood he needed and keeping still to not tear his makeshift stitches.

“It’s just us, Ghost. Can you please remove the mask? I know you have a cut over your eyebrow that I need to check.” You knew he was coming out of the field mindset and didn’t hold him to the tone he had kept earlier.

As you waited for him to tug off the mask, you tugged off your gloves and washed your hands and arms of any blood or dirt to make sure you didn’t transfer infections. You knew he needed to remove it without stares so you busied yourself with grabbing new suture kits and bandages and fresh antibiotic cream.

“I’m ready.” You looked up to see a tired Simon staring back at you, smeared black paint making him more disheveled.

“Hi, Simon.” You smiled small, walking up to his bed once more and taking a seat to begin working.

“‘Ello, love.” He replied, tone weary as he saw everything you brought. He was no stranger to the med bay and first aid but he hated it every time.

“I’ll do your eyebrow first and then move to your stomach. Do you want some morphine or whiskey?” You told him what you were doing before doing it, so there were no surprises. While waiting for his response, you slipped the transfusion needle from his arm and taped a simple bandaid to the bend.

“Whiskey.” Simon replied, not wanting any medical drugs in his system unless absolutely necessary.

You grabbed the bottle from under the bed and handed it to him as you slid on new gloves and got to work cleaning the wound before adding three simple stitches and tying them off. His eyes never left your face as you worked, getting lost in the way your tongue slipped between your lips to “help keep you steady” as you made careful stitches into his skin. He simply thought it was cute but kept his quips to himself as you focused on your work.

Once his eyebrow was stitched and covered, you tossed any garbage accumulated before moving down the bed towards his legs so you can work on his stomach.

“You gotta lift your shirt for me, Si.” You told him, grabbing a fresh cloth to clean the wound once you could remove the makeshift field bandage.

“Yes, ma’am.” He sighed, gloved fingers untucking his shirt from his pants before lifting it up to just under his pecs with no resistance. He trusted that you would take care of him.

The simple term caused your gaze to shoot to his, knowing without having to voice what he needed and wanted from you. He was only like this after particularly grueling missions, so you didn’t get to see it often. Ghost wasn’t one to take orders but Simon was a soldier first and listened when he was told to do something for his own health and well-being. But only by you, no one else.

“Needing something from me, Si?” You checked in with him as you carefully removed the dirty tape and soiled bandage.

“Need you, ma’am. Please.” He mumbled out, head pliant against the cot mattress as his face turned to look at you with his bottom lip worried between his teeth.

“Need what from me, Simon? Use your words.” You ordered softly, tossing the new trash before getting to work cleaning off the dried blood and dirt from around the inch-long gash on his side.

“Help me…Touch me…Need to feel you.” He worked to explain, not one for voicing his needs out loud but he always listened to you. He trusted you to help make him feel better.

“I am touching you. Is this not good enough?�� You questioned him with a sly grin, reaching to grab the suture kit to start stitching up the wound so you could clear him and you both could return to your room.

“Not what I mean’. Wanna be closer.” Simon tried again, doing his best not to move as he felt the needle continuously pierce his skin.

“How much closer?” Your voice had turned a little huskier as you continued to stitch the wound closed.

His fingers were flexing open and closed at his sides while he fought his rising irritation at both the needle and your faked incompetence at his words. While he knew what you wanted him to say, he fought against saying it versus simply showing you. The adrenaline still in his system was causing his thoughts to darken, to turn towards more lewd scenarios of the two of you in this room. Of your head buried his lap, or, better yet, his buried between your thighs.

“Wanna be ‘nside you.” Simon voiced, hips struggling to stay against the bed as the front of his pants tightened from his growing arousal.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Simon.” You tsked, finishing up the last few stitches and tying them off quickly.

“You won’t. I can take it.” He tried to reason, quickly becoming desperate for you.

“Simon…” you warned, thumping his hip gently in warning as you cleaned off the fresh blood that had spilled during your work before covering the wound in a fresh bandage and tapping it off.

“Ma’am, please.” He begged in a gruff tone, heels digging into the mattress as his hips canted up to press his thick cock against the seam of his pants to get some friction.

You tutted in fake disappointment as you cleaned up your work area and threw away your last pair of needed gloves before crossing your arms as you stood above him. The black paint made his eyes appear darker than they were and his lips were parted as he panted for breath.

“I’ll help you, but only if and when you decide to listen to me. Can you do that, Si?” You ordered, head cocking to the side to watch him as he nodded instantly and settled back against the bed.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You moved back to the side of his bed, leaning down to capture his lips in a demanding kiss as your fingers slid down the injury-free portion of his stomach to the large bulge between his legs. He gasped against your mouth as your fingers curled inwards to grip his length in your palm. Keeping your lips pressed against his, you began to massage his hard cock as you shared breaths.

“You want my hand or my mouth, Simon?” You asked him, breathless from the kiss as you pressed your foreheads together.

His hips were rocking up into your hand as his head fell backwards and eyes drifted shut. This new position left his neck open and you took the offer, lips and teeth sucking a mark against the side of his jaw that was sure to stay for a few days.

“F-fuck, love.” Simon gasped, eyes squeezing shut and brow furrowed in pleasurable pain you were causing him.

“I asked you a question, Lieutenant.” You snarled against his throat, sucking another mark into his skin to prove a point.

“Mouth, p-please. Fuckin’ mouth.” Simon snarled, no longer in control of his body as it disobeyed his mental order to stay put.

“That wasn’t so hard, huh?” You kissed the two marks your teeth and lips had left before pulling away and moving to unbuckle the belt holding up his pants.

His eyes shot to you, breathing heavy as the buckles clinked against each other and your nimble fingers popped the button of his pants before yanking down the zipper and spreading open the flaps.

“You sure, Si?” You questioned one last time, gazes locking together while your fingers hovered above his black boxer briefs.

“Yes, ma’am. Please…touch me.” His voice had dropped into a deep tone, desperation coating his every word.

You grinned wickedly at him, fingers sliding under the waistband of his boxers to yank both them and his pants to his knees. His hard, leaking cock slapped against the hard planes of his stomach and he cursed low in his throat. Keeping your eyes trained on his, you bent down and slid your wet tongue from the base of his thick length to the weeping tip in a slow drag that had him cursing again and hips shifting in budding neediness. You sucked at the tip, tongue swiping against the slit to catch dribbling precum as he bucked upwards against your mouth.

“Ah ah, careful, Simon.” You warned, deciding to pull off completely and mouth wet bites and marks against his hip while you waited for him to calm down.

“Sorry, ma’am. Feels t’good.” Simon moaned low, biting back curses of desperation as he fought to gain control again and settle once more against the bed.

“Be good for me, Si.” You ordered softly, your fingers taking over for your mouth to offer a change of pace.

He nodded that he would and took a deep breath as your fist started making long, languid strokes across the silky skin of his heated cock while your lips encircled his tip once more.

You hollow your cheeks as you sucked on the swollen, leaking head to add extra sensation while you began to stroke him faster. Simon struggled to bite back curses and praise as you sucked and stroked him, fingers curling into the sides of the cot so he wouldn’t tangle them into your hair. Normally, he’d be controlling the speed and depth of his cock in your mouth but he needed you to take care of him. He trusted that you would do what’s best for him so that he didn’t have to think, only feel. And you did just that, tongue stroking the most sensitive areas of his rigid length as you bobbed your head up and down to drive him crazy.

Simon began to babble incoherently then, the first bursts of heat from his building orgasm beginning to lick up his spine and extend down to the tips of his toes.

“Fuuuucckkkk fuckfuckfuck love, feels s’good. God, fuck, takin’ me so deep, can feel myself ‘n your throat, shit. Gonna make me cum, baby, gonna fill your mouth up. You’ll swallow it, huh? Take every las’ drop ‘nd swallow it for me? ‘m being good for ya, so good. Oh FUCK, that’s it baby, jus’ like that, swee’heart.” He rambled, knuckles white as he absolutely struggled to not take your hair in his hands and shove you down onto his cock until you’re choking.

You were already turned on as you began to blow him but you became absolutely drenched after hearing his filthy words. You nodded and moaned around him, cheeks hollowed as you worked harder to make him cum down your throat as quickly and recklessly as possible. He helps you along, hips thrusting up into your mouth as his orgasm crested and he spilled into your mouth with a shout and harsh curse of your name. His hips jerked as wave after wave of his orgasm crested over him, leaving him panting as you swallowed every last drop he gave you and leaned up to lick your lips clean.

“Better?” You asked him, lifting your thumb to catch a final drop of his release dripping from your chin and sucking it between your lips.

“Not enough, ma’am. Need to be ‘nside you.” His hands reach for you, tugging you towards him once more.

You frown and sigh, knowing that he needs rest but fighting against your own growing need to have him buried inside you. To burn away all of your fear and anxiety from the last three weeks.

“But your stomach…” you drawl, eyes darting to the large bandage covering his skin.

“I’ve had worse, ma’am. Please. Wanna make you feel good.” He thumbed at the button of your own pants, his focus only on unzipping them and yanking them off as quickly as possible.

You swat his hands away gently and make quick work of the fabric, toeing off your boots in the process and leaving the fabric in a pool at your feet. Simon groans deep in his chest at the sight, and makes grabby hands at you to silently urge you closer towards him. You laugh and oblige, climbing onto his lap and notching each of your knees at his thick, muscled hips while your drenched panties massage up against his sensitive cock.

“Oh shit, swee’heart. Fuckin’ drenched for me, baby. S’all for me?” He asks you, gloved fingers wrapping around your hips possessively as you ground against him in a teasing figure-eight motion.

“Only you, Si.” You moaned out, fingers sliding between your bodies to push your panties to the side so his spit-slickened tip could notch at your needy hole.

“Ride me, ma’am. C’mon, fuckin’ take me.” Simon begged you, desperate to be buried inside you so you can chase away his demons and fears.

“What do you say?” You gasped, your swollen clit getting friction from the thick patch of curls surrounding his shaft.

“Please, ma’am.” He begged again, trying his hardest to not shove deep inside you on his own.

You oblige him, taking his lips in a messy kiss as you swallow him completely in your soaked pussy. His stomach caves in as he curses, the sensation too much and not enough all at once. The deep penetration causes you to curse too and your hips start rocking on their own, absolutely desperate to feel every hot inch of his cock inside you.

“Yeah, jus’ like that, love. Shit, take it. Fuckin’ take it. Oh, use me. S’yours. All yours. I’m all yours, fuck. Use it, use my cock to get off, wanna feel you cum all over my cock, ma’am. Please. Please please please fuuuccckkkk.” Simon babbled incoherently again, fingers digging into your hips as you bounced in his lap.

You couldn’t stop even if you wanted to; he was sounded too pretty and too blissed out to deny him. You wouldn’t deny yourself, either. Him needy and begging for you and your body like this was rare and you relished it every time. You knew it was a defense mechanism to make himself feel better, but you swore you would be there to help him however he needed. And you’d be lying if you said this didn’t help you, too.

“M’gonna cum, Si. Gonna cum for you, only for you. Fuck, c’mon baby, want you to cum with me.” You ordered breathlessly, desperate to fall apart together.

You prayed that you both were quiet but you knew no one would even be close to the bay with Ghost inside so you were safe. You knew it was the end when Simon dug his booted feet into the mattress and took over, holding your hips up as his own hammered into you. He was chasing both of your orgasms for you, taking away all of the responsibility as he begged for your release.

Who were you to deny him?

“Oh, fuck, Simon. YES. Yesyesyes, just like that. C’mon baby, cum with me. Yeah, cum with me!” Your orgasm barreled into you relentlessly, shooting sparks down your spine and through your bloodstream as you quivered and came all over his cock like he had begged.

He followed almost immediately afterwards, tugging your body onto his own so he could bury his face in your neck as he whimpered and shook from his release and onset of overstimulation. You held him close as you both came down from your highs, panting and stealing each others air as you comforted each other. Minutes later, you were able to pull away and catch his warm, content gaze.

“C’mon, honey. Let me get you cleaned up and we’ll go rest.”

#ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost cod mw2 #ghost cod smut #simon ghost riley smut #wet and needy #needy!ghost #needy!simon #modern warfare #ghost smut #cod ghost #requests #asks #ghost requests

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forlorn-crows · 1 year

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Hi! I’d like to request anything with transmasc Rain, whatever you’re feeling like writing.

Thanks :)

so uh. ive got making out on the brain. so does rain.

tagging @gayrickgrimes and @askingforthesun, bc i know they love these boys

Rain wriggles his way between Swiss and his phone on the common room couch, folding himself neatly into his lap and draping his arms over the multi-ghoul’s neck.

“Hello to you too,” Swiss teases, setting his phone onto the cushion next to his thigh. He smooths his hands over Rain’s sides, looking up at the almost-pout he wears. “Now, what’s that face for, rainbow?”

“Kiss me.” It’s a soft demand rather than a question, the tone of which makes Swiss chuckle.

“Where’s your manners?”

Rain’s pout deepens, but the side of his mouth quirks upwards, betraying his petulant facade. Swiss can almost see the gears turning in his head as Rain chews on the inside of his cheek, no doubt weighing his various options of backtalk, more pouting, and sweet-talk.

“Please,” he says in a small voice, tipping his head down and looking up through dark, pretty lashes. Swiss can’t help but give him a precursory peck on the tip of his nose; he’s too cute not to.

“Of course, my prince.” The nickname earns him a happy trill and a goofy smile. It’s a silly one he started recently, one that never ceases to make the water ghoul blush a sweet, pale lilac. It creeps up his cheeks now, the white freckles across his nose becoming more prominent.

Rain leans in first, bumping their horns together affectionately before pressing his cool, plush lips to Swiss’. The multi ghoul relaxes into the cushions, sliding his hands around Rain’s waist and rubbing his thumbs in little circles on the small of his back. The slide of their mouths is slow, easy, perfect for a lazy spring afternoon.

Swiss hums against Rain’s mouth, licking softly at his top lip every so often. Rain sighs in response, shifting his weight a little to settle further into his lap. He cradles the mutli-ghoul’s face in his hands, kissing at the corner of his mouth and working his way down to the stubble along his jaw. Rain mouths along his jawbone up to the space just below his ear, placing a chaste kiss to the soft skin.

“Mm, that’s nice, baby,” Swiss sighs, tipping his head up to give him better access. Rain moves one of his hands to cup the back of his neck, leaning into the space Swiss gave him. He purrs and sucks with the lightest pressure, circling his tongue gently over the skin between his teeth. The multi-ghoul makes a noise in his throat as he scratches lightly at the nape of his neck.

Swiss grips a little harder at Rain’s waist, digging his fingers into his shirt and pulling him closer. The water ghoul makes his way back up to his mouth, smiling against Swiss’ lips before he dives in once more. There’s more insistence behind it this time. It’s an insistence that makes Swiss groan unabashedly, quickly chubbing up under Rain’s attention.

The multi ghoul darts out his tongue to lick at his bottom lip and pulls it between his teeth, worrying and sucking just so. Rain gasps, hips twitching of their own accord. The unconscious movement causes their groins to press together, Swiss’ bulge dragging across the seam of Rain’s jeans. The pressure is sharp and quick against his clit, wringing a little oh from his lips.

Swiss practically growls in response, grabbing Rain’s ass and dragging his hips against him again, taking his turn to kiss and suck along the column of the water ghoul’s neck. That lilac blush spreads further down his throat now—Swiss fights the urge to suck an equally purple mark into the skin, keeping the pace slow but heated.

Rain’s hands fly to Swiss’ hair when he forces the water ghoul’s hips to grind into him for a second time. He’s getting wetter by the second, clit already hot and throbbing in his boxers.

“Fuck, baby, I can never get enough of you,” Swiss groans, holding Rain’s lithe body as flush as possible against his own and just breathing him in. His hands start roaming then, palms gliding over Rain’s back, his shoulder blades, up to the back of his neck and down again.

The water ghoul holds Swiss’ head to the hollow of his throat and tips his head back, grinding fully now against his hard length. Slow. Indulgent. Intoxicating. Swiss grips his ass again and he moans.

“Satanas, yes, take what you need.” Swiss cants his hips to meet his movements, breathing heavier. He mouths messily against the same spot on Rain’s skin, over and over, letting himself be held there by the water ghoul’s hands against his scalp. The friction’s quickly not enough for Rain, evident by the way he adjusts and readjusts the angle of his pelvis.

“Swiss, please,” he whines. He drops his forehead back down to the multi-ghoul’s, hot breath ghosting over his skin as his mouth goes lax.

“Yeah, baby?”

Rain pulls him into a sloppy kiss, all teeth and tongue. He reaches down and tugs at one of Swiss’ wrists, guiding his hand across his ass, over the hollow of his hip and down to his inner thigh. He drops his hand, slender fingers brushing against Swiss’ knuckles as he moves to undo the button and zipper on his own pants.

“Touch me.”

#mmmm kissin #ask #anon #transmasc rain #rain ghoul #swiss ghoul #rulti #rain x swiss #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfic #fanfic #ficlet #ghost fanfic

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macravishedbymactavish · 9 months

Text

Christmas Miracles (Alex Keller x GN!Reader)

A contribution to The Holiday Writing Challenge, sorry I've been so MIA my dudes.

| Blog HQ | Modern Warfare 2019 / 2022 Masterlist |

TW for slight angst with a happy ending, Cat Dude!Alex with OC feline Neko

“It's Neko.” Your husband trailed off, grief saturating his tone. After a minute of loaded silence he continued. “The vet said she's in stage II kidney failure.”

Your jaw dropped at his words, hand covering your mouth as you listened to the soft whimpers on the other end. Comprehending how half his world just fell to pieces.

“She's fine though. She eats, drinks, follows us to the bathroom and screams at random.” You whispered, shocked by the news you just received. Your husband brought the cat in for a minor dental procedure, not to write out her final will and testament

A couple of small sniffles, “I know. They said she'll be ready to pick up in an hour or two.”

“I'll talk to my lead and pick you up. We'll go together.” You decided, sitting back in your chair. “It'll be okay, I love you.”

“Fuck I feel pathetic. I love you too.” Alex sighed, ending the call. Tears burned in the back of your eyes, knowing the undescribable bond between the two.

“I'm nervous.” He whispered, knee bouncing anxiously against yours. Eyes scanning the room as he waited for your names to be called.

“It'll be okay.” You mumbled, fingers slipping through his. Squeezing three times; silently forgiving him for not returning the gesture.

His eyes were red, and still swollen despite mostly calming down 20 minutes ago. The entire ride to the clinic was filled with apologies and wondering out loud if the staff will notice he was crying minutes prior.

“Hey you two, we're going to exam 3.” The tech walked over, gesturing for you to follow.

“So, before we bring Neko in we want to review the notes from the procedure and discharge paperwork.” She started, eyeing at your boyfriend who was staring mindlessly at the door. Unable to process any of what was said until he knew his feline soulmate was alright.

“Procedure went amazing, we didn't pull any teeth as the previous problem resolved.” The tech explained, showing you images of the x-rays and Neko's teeth. “We did notice on the pre-op labwork that she does have evidence of some kidney disease however.”

Your eyebrows raised unconsciously. Relief flooding your system. Disease isn't nearly as bad as failure.

Nudging Alex with your elbow, silently reminding him to be present in the conversation; you listened as the vet tech continued to explain the ranking of severity. Stage IV being failure.

Neko was stage II. Mild to moderate disease.

“So, to make sure we have it right. She doesn't have kidney failure. Her kidneys just aren't as effective as they used to be?” You asked, feeling Alex relax beside you. Letting out a loud sigh of relief when the tech left the room to grab his cat.

New tears brimmed in his eyes when the carrier was brought into the room. Irritated meows flooding the room, along with your husband's soft sob.

You listened to the dietary changes, recommended supplements and follow up appointments as Alex cooed at the small animal. Chuckling softly as she continued to berate him for leaving her here all day.

“Thank you, we'll call in the new year to book.” You smiled, waving at the staff before leaving the clinic. Rolling your eyes at your husband, who held the carrier up to his face. Apologizing to his feline friend, and explaining to her how awesome it is that she'll get so much more soft food now!

“It's a Christmas miracle.” Alex sighed happily on the drive home, one arm in the carrier. Scratching Neko's cheek as he smiled wide.

“It's a sign you need to brush up on your medical terminology.”

Taglist: @bloodonmyhands-1221 @bowtruckleninja @v1naco

Alex Keller Taglist: @glitterypirateduck @deadbranch @gcing-back-to-505

A/N: This is 100% based off my situation today, except I was Alex. I cried thinking my cat was in kidney failure.

Except it was my husband (Alex Keller at home) who has zero medical training who thought disease and failure were interchangeable. Leading me to pre-maturely mourn my feline soulmate.

#alex keller fluff #alex keller x reader #alex keller x gn! reader #alex keller #cod mw2 #cod mw2019 #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2019 #call of duty modern warfare 2022 #cod alex

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sensei-venus · 1 year

Note

Omg for the social anxiety Reader what if Hawk's is the one to approach her and help her out? I need to know how he'd react to someone like that having been a shy bullied kid himself. If you want to ofc

(Unedited) (Route Post To This Post)

Reader felt herself freeze up as the new voice seemed to loom over her. A shiver ran up her spine as she slowly looked up at the person. Her heart speeds up a bit from being so close to a stranger.

Her eyes slowly glanced up to find a boy around her age looming over her. He wears a short mohawk and crystal blue eyes that seemed to glare into her soul. Her mind started to race as she thought about all of the things that could happen in that very moment. She felt her lip tremble a little.

“Uh you want this or not? I'll take it if you don't, I have been looking for a new hoodie.”

“No...no ill take it, thanks..” Reader was quick to take the hoodie from the boys outstretched hand. He difby seem to care that she basically snatched it right out of his hands.

He raised a brow as he looked at some of the shirts on her arm. A few band tees called out to him. Stuffing his hands into his pockets he said “You listen to them?” he points to one of the shirts. Reader looks down at the shirt he is pointing at and simply nods.

Her face is already starting to get hot, she didn't want to be here. Why did some attractive guy in the middle if the mall have to see her struggling to get a stupid hoodie out of all people. She wanted to but her tongue and run right now.

“Iv been trying to find their album for months now, it's sold out everywhere. Like I could just pull out my phone and listen to it but I would die for a hard copy.”

“Have you tried Tip Top records, over by the old roller rink? They sell CDs too and they tend to have a lot of sold-out stuff because like no one goes in there. It's like a hiding hole these days.”

Reader clamped up, eyes wide.

Was she really talking to some stranger right now with no issue?

“Really? Never even thought to go into that place but that definitely makes sense. I don't hear about anyone going to that place let alone buying anything from there.” The guy nodded and smirked. His teeth were bright and full as he looked her way.

“Oh yeah the names Hawk by the way.”

“Uh Reader.”

Reader didn't know why this guy was making her smile so hard right now. Any other day she would be running away to get out of this situation. She wouldn't even be able to get a few words out. But some how this guy was making her talk with no problem. It felt so weird and new to be able to talk to someone like this. For once she felt like she was having a normal conversation with a stranger.

Her heart was beating hard but not out of anxiety, there was a new feeling. The initial anxiety was slowly trickling away and new feelings were bubbling up inside her. For once she wanted to continue talking to someone new. Her stomach felt weird in a good way, she wanted to keep feeling that way. Talking to “Hawk” seemed to make her anxiety slip away.

“Hey I don't know what you're doing right now besides shopping, but some of my friends are going to go hang out in the court yard. Probably just get something to eat and chill. Why didn't you come? You don't have to talk or anything if you didn't want to....it would be cool if you just stuck around.” Hawk scratched the back of his head. His eyes lazily rolled as he threw a thumb behind him, a group of other teens was in the back laughing about something on a shirt. Those must be the friends he's referring to.

Reader looked around him and just stared at his little friend group for a minute.

“Trust me they're cool and if you feel uncomfortable or something, just let me know. I'll make them shut the fuck up real quick.”

She wanted to laugh at that but she could tell by his tone he was serious. Clearly, he didn't find the idea of his group of friends making her uncomfortable to be very funny. He watched for her reaction but didn't try to state her down anymore. He seemed to understand her nervous posture by this point.

Taking a deep breath Reader held the new hoodie close to her chest. Cheeks burning with nervousness and embarrassment. Slowly she looked at Hawk with a small smile.

“I would love to hang out with you and your friends. But I will warn you that I'm not much of a talker.” Reader mumbles out. Hoping she didn't chase off the new guy with her anxiety.

She was shocked when he just grinned and laughed saying “That's completely fine. Trust me when I say that most of my friends talk like crazy. They basically entertain themselves at this point. I would just enjoy it if you were there.” she sheepishly nodded at him.

The fact he wasn't pushing her to talk made her breathe a sigh of relief.

“Just uh meet us at the food court in a few minutes ok? It's not hard to sport up. See you later Reader.” he smirked and gave her a small wave before turning and walking off. He walled back to his friends who just slapped him on the back and went back to talking. The whole time he wears a smirk on his face.

Occasionally he turns his gaze back to her, just watching to see if she has run off or not. The whole time her cheeks feel like a lit furnace.

She quickly turns around and makes her way to the register. Clenching her shirts and hoodie in her arms.The smile that took over her face was huge and weird to her. For once she couldn't wait to go hang out with people, especially strangers at that. As she started to check out her stuff with the cashier she looked back toward where Hawk was standing before.

For a split second, she caught his eye and they just stood there looking at one another. Reader gave a small wave. Unexpectedly Hawk also gave a small wave, making sure none of his friends were watching him. He grinned at her before turning back to them.

Maybe meeting new people wasn't so bad when it was people you felt drawn too.

Maybe she could give it a try.

#cobra kai #cobra kai blog #cobra kai ask blog #cobra kai headcanons #cobra kai imagine #cobra kai blurb #eli hawk moskowitz #hawk moskowitz #cobra kai eli #eli moskowitz headcanons #cobra kai hawk #cobra kai hawk x reader #hawk x reader #eli moskowitz #hawk moskowitz x chubby reader #eli moskowitz x chubby reader #cobra kai x chubby reader #chubby reader #social anxiety!reader

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