#games included: reader rabbit

[cosmignon]

sometimes I remember how I wanted to visit my grandma a lot specifically bc she had a nicer computer than my family's so I'd run upstairs to play computer games basically the entire time and im like grandma i hope u know i love u i was not ignoring you i simply had to GAME

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, yandere, captive reader, dehumanization, patronization, condescension

♡ fem reader

This is his playroom. It’s got puzzle-piece foam flooring and is filled to the brim with all sorts of different toys—including you. He’s got stuffed animals, pretty dolls, toy soldiers, Lego builds, and a gaming station with all types of fun—and parental safety restrictions, of course, no talking to strangers for you. Your controller is a pretty baby pink, and his a cool camo-green. But today, they’re left on the floor, untouched.

Because today, he only wants to play with you.

“You’re gonna be so pretty…” His voice is as grating as always—synthetically childish, making you grit your teeth. Sitting with you between his legs before the mirror, working diligently.

You look at the floor to avoid your reflection.

He’d gotten you a brand new baby-blue dress and painted you himself—done your eyelids up in matching clear skies, black lashes moth-like and fluttery, cheeks a rosy pink, and lips a sheer gloss extra plump and pretty—no need for tint—you bite them so cutely, they’re already his favorite color. Your hair’s done up in curls and ringlets, so bouncy and soft, beribboned with plentiful white bows.

“This color suits you so well. Makes you look like a cake-topper. Bite-sized. I could eat you right up.” He hums behind you, fiddling with the many intricacies, doing them up perfectly—no rush.

Looking up, the person staring back at you looks no different from a life-sized porcelain doll. Pristine, mint condition, fit to be put behind glass. In your frilly dress, petticoat and stockings. Just like Alice down the rabbit hole.

The only thing that betrays the illusion is the leather collar on your throat and the chain running from it to the middle of the floor. But no matter.

He’s got a giddy smile on his face— chest swelled with pride at his work. You’re his most prized possession. You really are! There isn’t a single toy in this room that can compete with you.

He’s not wearing anything special to match. Bedhead, undressed, still in his pajama pants. Why wouldn’t he be? This is his playroom, after all—his downtime—where he can be a boy with his toy. Though, calling him a boy isn’t exactly right—what with him being nearly in his thirties. Not to mention that he’s about two heads taller than you, with abs like an athlete, toned and chiseled and hard to the touch, hard enough to strain your wrists when he bears down on you. Oh, and that thing in his pants.

You bite your tongue and steal yourself. It would be easy to cry, but he only gets weirder about it then. So you stifle it, even though you look so stupid you want to act like an animal. Tear the dress to shreds and rub your makeup into a mess—scream, bite, spit on him. You’d done all that once before to no avail other than punishments that still keep you up at night. Once was enough. He didn’t play nice with you.

But then again, when does he ever?

“Hmm, think I’m done…” he announces after having dallied with the lace of your corset for a quarter-hour—it’s so tight you have to appreciate every breath. “Time to have some fun.”

He treats you no different from a doll either. Scooping you up into his arms like an inanimate object and carrying off to the princess bed—the one that looks like a girl’s birthday cake with a veil on top, and mountains of pillows all too soft.

He places you down on top of the duvet and it seems to swallow you like an ocean. He dives after, covering you like a fishnet. You take a final breath before he can drown, your hand on his chest, holding him at a distance.

“I was thinking, uhm…” you start, the words coming out odd, barely recognizable as your voice—only noticing now how long it had been since you’d spoken last. “I was…” you restart, but it’s still no easier. His eyes are large and unblinking, staring down at you as though he’s just as surprised as you are to found out you speak. “Hoping we could play… a little differently this time?”

He blinks at the request, having fallen completely still above you.

“Really? How?” The suddenness of his words make you flinch. You don’t know what you had expected—maybe a smile and something dismissive. It had been a while since he’d spoken directly to you like that—and not to himself in absentminded comments about you.

You recover some time, seeing him stare down at you all expectantly in wait. He follows when you guide him into sitting instead of looming over you, putting yourself in his lap—straddling him. “Mh, like this. Maybe?”

It’s a gamble. He’d never had you on top before, nor ever shown an interest in it. Setting aside the time you’d been sprawled on your belly over his thighs, his hand riddled in your hair and his other hand branding your ass with his very own toy company logo.

His expression is unreadable—perhaps a little confused if you were to take a guess.

“Oh!” he erupts with a smile you hope is the good sort. “You mean I play the toy and you the master?” He laughs brightly, falling on his back with a hand over his face, cackling through his fingers as though it were the most absurd proposal he’d ever heard.

But despite his obvious amusement, you still feel it—his toy poking into you from beneath.

He settles after a moment. “Alright then, why not?” Looking up at you—his hair a tousled mess splayed upon the bed, eyes as gleeful as the quirk on his lips. “Who knows… it could be fun.”

He props his arms behind his head, lounging comfortably.

“I did call you a cake-topper, after all,” he snickers. “I’ll lie perfectly still, like a good toy, while you play with me. Sound good?”

You can’t believe how open he was to it. Still a little apprehensive, you nod your head.

And then the game begins…

He doesn’t exactly stay true to his word. But you suppose that would be too much to ask. His head still rests pretty on the pillow with his eyes closed, smiling in satisfaction—for now, sated with your performance. Groaning in absentminded bliss, “You’re right. This is fun~”

But he hadn’t stayed perfectly still like he’d said. He’d reached out when you’d finally begun riding and now his arms keep you snug against his chest, fine-pressed sweaty skin against your frilly bust, more in a lock than a hug. It makes it kind of difficult to do what he wants, but you try your best—knees and toes planted in the mattress for stability as you jerk your hips on his lap. It’s awkward, but riding him like this is still better than the alternative, after all.

You keep your arms around the back of his neck, resting your face in the cradle it creates beneath his chin, panting lowly—eyes closed in focus away from the pain, brows tight with your tongue between your teeth, trying to maintain the rhythm despite the blossoming ache that’s started to spread from your hips down your thighs—another ill sting in the small of your back crawling up your spine. It’s hard staying bent over like this, and your movements are turning sluggish…

There’s a sigh from above you, pitchy and just awful. “Aww, is it really time already?” he whines—previous satisfaction dwindling—bordering on something else entirely now, the opposite and so much worse—boredom with a hint of disappointment—a spoiled child with a toy that’s run out of battery.

You shake your head, burying your face in his neck and tightening your grip, stealing yourself with newfound strength to maintain the tempo you had before while muffling out a desperate, “No, I can keep going—”

He lets out another sound, this time in thought. “Hmm...” It doesn’t give you much confidence—how lax a sound it is—as if he isn’t even close to being spent yet. “I don’t know… You’re so slow. I’m gonna get soft if this is all you got, y’know?”

He starts moving—sitting up. He takes his own hold on your hips, and you know what that means. And you can’t handle being played with, not when he damn near breaks you each and evert time.

“No, wait! I can keep going, please, just a little longer?” you insist, both palms pushed flat on his chest with your round eyes looking at him hopelessly in plead for a second chance—even though you know he isn’t one with the patience to give you one.

He stares blankly back, big-eyed in surprise at your outburst. Though still not convinced it would be worth humoring you. If he was being honest, he’d enjoyed it more than he thought he would but had now had his fill and wanted to take charge as usual and finish the job. However…

Oh, you’re being so uncharacteristically cute today—and that pathetic look of desperation on your face is truly something else…

He smiles deceptively softly, so brightly it reaches his eyes. He very nearly looks innocent like that, but you know him too well—so well that the sight of his lips curling gives you nothing but a churning stomach.

“Okay then, doll. You convinced me.”

Suppose it doesn’t hurt letting you have your way sometimes. You have been on very good behavior lately, after all. He ought to reward you.

“I’ll be your toy a little longer.” He murmurs with a lazy smirk, nose-kissing you—patronizing, as though he’s doing you a big favor.

It doesn’t grant you any peace, and neither does the way he keeps his hold on your hips, rubbing smooth circles into the fat leisurely, letting you know he wouldn't be removing them—it serves as some type of encouragement as you start moving again.

It’s easier now when you’re upright. Holding his shoulders, you can jump rather than buck—up and down, up and down, up and down—it’s simple enough. Or it was for a moment, at least, before he planted your hips down.

“Not like that,” he shakes his head softly. “Like this.” He moves you after his will, wanting you to grind instead—putting you back in square one.

Your movement staggers, and you mask a wince with a moan—fuck, your muscles are so sore, maintaining this movement is enough to make your loins scream, feeling all but set on fire.

With one hand keeping you seated, the other takes hold of your leash and pulls you in close, his lips on the dew of your rouge-dusted cheek—you feel the grin, and like prey threatened by a hunter’s teeth, you shiver in respect of it. “Come on, dolly, ride or die, faster,” he simpers, voice laced with mockery and amusement.

Your thighs are shaking now, tightened up in anguish, begging for a break—soon to take it without your permission. How much you can take reaches a point, and everything goes slack not a second too soon.

“And now you’re done,” he snickers hotly under his breath, planting a kiss on the side of your glossy lips while you exhaustedly and gingerly take your break with a feeling of defeat. He speaks low, and you dread every eerie lick of his words, “My turn to play.”

You want to protest, but you know it’s no use. He’d made up his mind now, and challenging it any further would only turn you into a nuisance—toys are supposed to enjoy being played with, after all—best take it with grace and shut up before he reminds you.

He flips the both of you around with ease, reclaiming his spot—on top. He loves you like this, splayed out beneath him like a puppet—just waiting to have all your strings pulled.

It was good while it lasted, you think—maybe if you get better, you can make him finish and not have to endure what comes next.

“Don’t pout, dolly—that was fun,” he kisses you lips as they start to tremble. “But you suit being my toy so much better.”

♡ BNHA – Deku, Denki, Mirio ♡ JJK – Mahito, Gojo ♡ HQ – Oikawa, Miya twins, Tendou ♡ BLLK – Nagi, Bachira

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[cjonesjr]

・﹒・﹒・ why are ya avoiding me? [1]

Summary: You avoided him at all costs because frankly, he was an asshole, doesn't mean he avoided you though. He constantly flirts with you but you just take it as him trying to anger you. It works, but you start to feel like he's being serious, and you have butterflies in your stomach just thinking about him. However, he finally confronts you one day, and you don't know what to do.

Warnings: 15+, suggestive remarks, pet names

Pairing: Jax x GN!reader

Series: Part 2

Notes: I'm not proud of this writing at all, but I'll keep it as it is for you guys!

It was a normal day at the digital circus, as normal as one day can be in this wacky place. The adventure-of-the-day just finished up and you purposely made it so you weren't close to Jax at all, but he kept slithering into your personal space like you haven't set clear boundaries. You hate him, simple as that, regardless of how many times Ragetha claims that you must have a crush on him. The audacity. Jax is a bitch, asshole, shithead, he was terrible to everyone, who could like someone like that?

Well, despite making your status clear on the relationship between you to, he didn't get the memo- no, no, he just didn't care. At every single chance he got, that bitchass rabbit would flirt with you. It frustrated you to no ends because he obviously was just doing it to get a rise out of you and it was working. Every time you got upset, he would smirk and call you "cute", it set you off even more. Even though his body (and everyone else's including your's) was just a fake, digital avatar, you still found him somewhat attractive.

I mean who could deny that he was cute? His voice didn't do him any favors either, but it didn't get rid of the fact that he was a bitch. Every time you blushed at his flirting (which was shamefully more than what you would have liked), he would get closer and tease you about it. Pomni made it abundantly clear that you two acted like a married couple, which is so far from the truth.

So why did it feel different this time? Zooble was talking to you about how they never liked going on Caine's "adventures" because they were stupid, which is fair considering he only did it just to keep us from going insane from boredom and abstracting, they always felt like something that would be in a game for little kids. You tried to pay attention to her, truly you did, but your gaze kept moving over to Jax as he was conversing with Pomni about something you couldn't hear. You shouldn't be staring at him so much, why were you?

"You gonna tell him?" Her question caught you off guard. Tell who what? You knew exactly what she was talking about, however you chose to play dumb even though it won't work.

"Uh what do you mean?" You ask, head turning to her, feigning innocence as she sighed and rubbed her nonexistent temple, grumbling.

"Don't be dumb Galka, you like him even though you say you hate him. Everyone knows, I mean you look at him like you love him" Love him? As if! Far from it, you hate him.

"But I uh...I don't! He really gets my nerves Zooble! He wants to piss me off because its fun! That's why he flirts so muuuuch!" You whine as you look over to the one in question, but this time he stared back at you. Eyes widening, you quickly turn back to Zooble, however, its too late as he's already saunter over here like he owns the place with his shit eating grin loud and clear on his stupid face.

"Well hello there Galka, looking adorable as always" Immediately, you felt your face warm he flirts with you yet again, refusing to look back at him.

"Leave me alone @@#@$, what part of "don't come near me" is hard to understand?"

"Oh I understand fully. I just wanna know oooone thing" His voice pissed you off, especially when he spoke in that tone, one that reeked of smugness. Yet, butterflies erupted in your stomach as he spoke, his presence made you flustered, why? Out of annoyance most likely, only reason.

"Why are ya avoiding me, Cutie?" There it is, the elephant in the room that you refused to address and that stupidly cliche nickname that you loved from him out of his dumbass mouth.

"I'm not avoiding you, I'm just...coincidentally not around when you are" Shamefully looking down at the floor so he didn't see your face, you knew it was a weak excuse but it was better than accepting fate and saying nothing. That didn't deter him in any way as his feet popped into your field of vision. Shit, he is right in front of you. His arm came into view as his hand sat under your chin, soon lifting it up to meet his gaze, smirk ever present.

"Yeah, sure, likely story. Wanna explain why you look like you're having very dirty thoughts right now? Are they about me?" His statement made you scoff and step back, waving your hands to separate from him. The AUDACITY, again why was everyone claiming you liked him? How could you want to be with this person when he said shit like that?

"Oh please! In your dreams #%#@$head" Turning around, you started to make your way to your room, it was a bit of a walk but you didn't mind it. Plans sometimes were never made to be followed through as Jax appeared yet again in front of you.

"C'mon let me walk you to ya room at least" How did he know you were heading there? God he never fails to ask to be punched in the grion.

"I don't think anything here is going to put me in any danger #%@$ Bunny, leave me alone" You spoke firmly, not wanting any slips to happen, voice strong as you walked with a purpose, pushing past him to the one place that Jax isn't present. Well...physically at least. Ok maybe you did have a feeeeww pictures of the rabbit in there, but it was to remind you how much you hate him, yeah that's it. Nobody else knew because you never let anyone enter and since nobody else had a key, it worked out.

"Oh are you sure sweet thing? Don't worry your secret is safe with me of-" He holds your shoulder to stop you before leaning in close your head "all those pictures you have of me"

[brokenpieces-72]

May I present an idea to you:

Hybrid Sharkgirl reader.

…okay this is a new one… sounds fun.

Not sure how the rules are gonna work with this but why don’t we have a little road trip? Going to include Spirit (callsign of the Jackalope reader).

Macho

You were told you would be shipped out, quite literally to the middle of the ocean. You proved yourself in more ways than one among the rest of the men on board. Your navigation and hunting skills made care for your hybrid features easier.

Your features include gills on your neck, and smoother skin. Your teeth are sharp, and your eyes are fairly dark. When you hit the water, your have a much easier time moving around, your reflexes unmatched by any human underwater. This is part of having a tail that you can shift to when you want, making you merfolk in species. Finding underwater mines, doing underwater repairs to the ship and showing great skills in search and rescue made you a highly valuable asset. The men and women on board showed you respect, and most of your time was spent eating or hunting underwater if not exploring. You’d earned the call sign Macho.

You got word that some hybrids would be visiting the ship why they were sending them you don’t really know. You overhear them mentioning the program you had been a part of. Your mentor tells you it won’t be to replace you or anything, knowing you had overheard some of the crew suggesting it. Apparently they had a hybrid from the same program but it was a land species.

You go with your mentor and the captain to greet the few hybrids they had sent. The chopper landed and out came a large bearded man with horns, a tail and wings-a wing. Followed close was a man with black hair and some facial hair, with jaguar spots along his arms. Behind the both of them you could make out a small shape wearing a poncho.

The captain greets the two men, a captain and a colonel and then greets… a young girl with antlers and rabbit ears, what the heck? Still she stood attention the same as you so she was certainly trained. You’d heard of barrack bunnies but this was definitely not what they meant. She had to be maybe a couple years younger than you, fresh out of the program surely.

The men chat for a while as they walk inside, heading below deck. You walk alongside the girl, Alejandro and Price, called Spirit. The men and your mentor left to talk in private, asking you to stay with Spirit. Wait stay-you’re not a babysitter. Your mentor expresses understanding but suggests talking to Spirit and showing her around would be beneficial. You roll your eyes but agree. Your mentor is grateful, even with the two older newcomers seeming a little unsure.

You show Spirit around the ship and she asks you some questions. Is it comfortable sleeping in such small spaces, how do you play games if the ship rocks constantly, what is cooking meals like, and so on. Reasonable questions, and you can give her the answers. Then she asks about your features. Can you still breathe air okay, do you have a tail, do you hunt like other sharks?

“You ask a lot of questions.” You state bluntly. The girl went a little quieter.

“Should I stop?” She asks nervously. You sigh a little. You could be a little harsh in your tone sometimes.

“Well how would you like it if I asked your some questions. Only fair.” You say shrugging. The girl’s eyes got a little sparkle in them, and then there was a growl. You both froze. Who was that?

Meanwhile your mentor was getting interrogated a little. Alejandro and Price wanted to know about the mentors, retainers, and handlers of the program, and going straight to them was proving fruitless. Having some connections in the military was another direction, one they could walk.

“You’ve never tried to give your ward blood or tried using it to enhance her abilities?” Price asks.

“No, I’d never do that to her. She has enough trouble making friends, if anyone on the crew saw her in a blood craze… to be honest I don’t think we’d see them again.” Your mentor exclaims. It was frustrating to know they’d come all this way only for them to come up short. They hadn’t expected much but they figured bringing Spirit would let her see more of the military life, sniff out what maybe they’d miss. That and having someone interact with another hybrid from program might open some more insight.

“Thank you for your time. We apologize for the accusations.” Price says.

“I understand. We’d heard reports and rumours about your situation. Many were informed by the program to take care and caution with their charges.” Your mentor says.

“Macho is fairing well here, we can assure you.” Your captain says.

“We’ve seen her record. Very impressive, and you clearly run a tight shift here. I commend you.” Alejandro says. “We best be off.”

“We’d need something to eat before we go though. Spirit has an appetite, and it will be a few hours back.” Price says.

You know where the mess hall is, your appetite is pretty big too. Sometimes you’ll go hunting for your own food but the cook on board knows how to make even the most basic of spices work wonders. In that time Spirit had told you plenty about herself and you told her about what you can do. You don’t know if she’s just stroking your ego or if she’s actually impressed but you indulge her.

You keep chatting over food, digging in. Your portions are a good size and the cook isn’t about to stop you from taking seconds before everyone else is served. Hearing the number of different hybrids Spirit works with has you a little jealous. Wraiths were rare but sounded really badass. A harpy? You weren’t sure about that, you had some ugly experiences with harpies when you were younger, mostly picking on you. How the heck was her brother a werewolf? Oh adoption, wait she’s been adopted!?

“Do you have other hybrids to work with?” She asks. You shrug and stuff your face, and that’s all you have to do. “That sucks.”

“I’m a handful enough, the cook would have to work double time if they had someone with my appetite.” You say, smiling. You weren’t really sure how well you’d far with another shark hybrid. It might get ugly. “After we’re done you wanna see my tail?”

“Wanna see mine?” She asks you excitedly.

After you finish eating you hurry to find your mentor. You needed to take a dingy with you so she could see it better, and you could show off some more. Spirit is following you like a puppy, and you feel like a kid again.

“Can we take a dingy out?” You ask, poking your head out from the doorframe. Your mentor, and Price are on the other side and both look at you and then each other.

“Why?” Your mentor asks, looking back at you.

“I wanna show Spirit my tail!” You say excitedly. Your mentor raises an eyebrow, with a bit of pride in his expression.

“Has she eaten?” Price asks. You nod quickly, before Spirit pokes her head out behind you nodding too.

“Don’t go far.” Your mentor says. You and Spirit cheer and hurry to the deck. You don’t hear your mentor saying he was happy to see such an excited and happy side to you.

When Spirit sees your tail she asks to touch it, and you let her. She’s much more gentle than others had been. Your scars are visible, but you keep it to yourself. Spirit asks if she can go into the water herself, and you tell her it should be fine. Thankfully you hold on to her cause it turns out she can’t swim. You get her back in the dingy right away.

Instead you find everything you think is interesting to show her, coming up and holding them for her to look at. The sea bunnies are her favourite. You take her back to the boat once the sun starts to set. She offers to let you see her form next. You agree and she warns you it can be a little scary.

“Wow you weren’t lying, it is kind of scary.” You say, looking at the wendigo side. It’s much bigger than you were expecting. “It’s badass!”

The Wendigo makes happy chirping noises that reminds you of a dolphin. However she has to shift back because the chopper had returned. Before you say good bye, you give Spirit your number, telling her she can text anytime. You smile and wave to three hybrids as they leave. You’re beaming and looking at your cellphone fondly.

“Make a friend?” Your mentor asks. It’s like you were woken up from something as you realized what had all transpired. You’d made a friend. Holy shit that’s awesome!

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @dcnocap207 @reaper-chan666 @bestbookfriends

[backwardsbread]

Hello !!

Don’t mine me dropping in a request but I HAVE BECOME OBSESSED with your writing (it’s such a good way off letting off steam and the way you write the characters make it so bealive you can’t convince me u don’t work for vivziepop) ANYWAYS.

I was wondering if you could write headcannons for husk x oblivious!reader? Like basically EVERYONE in the hotel know that husk has a crush on the reader (even thought he keeps denying it) but reader is just oblivious to this. And like angel and alastor always tease him about this right in readers face and she just doesn’t get it which makes husk more flustered ? I HAVE FALLEN INTO THE RABBIT HOLE OF HUSKS DEEP VOICE 💔

(Reader could be gn or AFAB, really anything you are comfortable writing with :3!!)

Hope this reaches you in a good time :33 !!!!

You guys- everytime I open my inbox and see such sweet messages and AMAZING requests— MY HEART CANT HANDLE IT.

That being said, this prompt is GOLD. I hope I did it justice!

Hazbin Hotel:

Husk x Oblivious!Reader

Warnings‼️: none really? Light swearing, Lots of fluff, Fem!Reader, use of Y/N.

~Not proofread~

To me, Husk is almost insecure about his feelings.

He likes to keep things real and genuine, done get me wrong, but he’s constantly listening to other people’s drama and thoughts.

He’s a good source of comfort for the hotel guests, including you. Someone who will listen to you without judgement.

I think how he starts falling for you has to do with this. You’d stay up late nights with Husk while he closes the bar, often times turning the tables on him.

Asking him how he’s doing, what he did throughout the day, even something as simple as asking fun facts about him

Your guys’ game of 20 questions became a norm every night. Slowly you creeped over the walls Husk had put around himself. Something Husk didn’t realize you had done until it was far too late.

The warm feeling he gets in his chest after your guys’ interactions wells up into butterflies in his gut. It doesn’t take long for him to get feelings for you when you were always nothing short of perfect in his eyes.

Since he’s one to usually keep his feelings to himself, he tries to hide this from you and the other attendees of the hotel.

But once he actually realizes he has a crush on you, oh buddy, is he OBVIOUS.

His calm and cool demeanor shifting into anxiety whenever anyone brings the topic of you up or even dares to ask if you two are an item.

It doesn’t help that Alastor can read him like a book after many years of owning Husk’s soul.

Even so, Husk can’t help the way his voice and demeanor soften whenever interacting with you.

I can definitely see Angel noticing this next and making a SCENE about it. He didn’t mean to embarrass his friend, but he can’t help poking fun.

(Also, Angel was mildly upset that Husk hadn’t just told him about his feelings towards you. Angel would be the best wingman.)

Angel does try to set the two of you up frequently, trying to nudge you guys to make things official.

Except one teensy weensy issue.

You completely misunderstood Husk’s advancements towards you as friendly banter.

Confusing your own interest towards him as simple excitement to hang out with him.

Angel and Alastor find this hilarious

Both of them are able to openly tease Husk around you while you have no clue what they’re insinuating.

They just watch Husk panic as they outright call him out on his crush. While you just stare at them confused as if they’re telling an inside joke.

It drives Husk bonkers how you don’t seem to catch on to his flirting or feelings for you.

He honestly doesn’t know what was worst, you not realizing his feelings, or the fact you responded to his advances so nonchalantly.

Can you imagine Husk gets the courage to hold your hand or something, and you’re just like

‘Oh this is a thing now! Alright anyways-.’

And just move on as if nothing happened/changed.

He even asks you out on dates occasionally, but instead of it turning out as alone time, you end up inviting other hotel members.

And he just can’t say no to you so he’s left with joining a group dinner, with apologetic looks from Angel and amused grins from Alastor.

When Husks asks for it to just be the two of you, you assume he’s in an argument with the other hotel attendees.

“Oh are you in an argument with Angel right now? What happened?”

“Is Alastor pissing you off? I can talk to Charlie about it! She’ll get it handled.”

It drives Husk NUTS. Every innocent move you make leaves him even more flustered.

The fact that you don’t even seem phased by it leaves him feeling frustrated and kind of rejected.

Which was never your intent! You just didn’t understand your feelings for the ex overlord and his towards you.

————————————————————————

You were in Angel’s hotel room. He was picking out an outfit for you, throwing you in all different kinds of combinations. Different dresses with different styles, cute skirts and tops, jumpsuits, you name it. You enjoyed the little game of dress up he was playing with you, but you weren’t sure the exact reasoning for suddenly using you as a model.

“Okay okay, this one is so cute.” You walk out of Angel’s bathroom, a huge grin on your face. Angel looks over towards you, wolf whistling as he looks you up and down.

You were dolled up in a burnt orange dress that was bedazzled in rhinestones. The shiny stones making diamond patterns along the dress. It had puffy sleeves made of tool that fell off your shoulders. The dress hugged your waist and the skirt flowed out, reaching just past your knee.

You look at yourself in the full length mirror, doing a little spin to see yourself in full view. Angel approached you, making sure the zipper on the back of the dress was all the way up and secure.

“You look hot, toots! The color really suits you.” Angel compliment while you ruffled your hair to give it more volume. You giggle at his compliment, continuing to admire yourself in the mirror.

There was a timid knock on Angel’s door, making the spider demon grin and turn on his heel. You kept admiring your outfit in the mirror while Angel answered the knock.

“Right on time!” Angel said as he opened the door. You look in the mirror to see who was at the door behind you. Husk was there, grumbling a bit at Angel’s enthusiasm.

Your smile brightened, turning to look over at Husk. Once he got full view of you in that dress, he froze, his face flushing dark hues of magenta. Husk was also dressed nicely, more put together than usual. His hat not on its usually place between his ears, his hair done up nice, a burnt orange bow tie complimenting a new grey suit he was wearing.

“Hey, look, we match!” You exclaim, grinning ear to ear. Angel sighed while Husk blinked out of his tiny daydream.

“I- uh.. looks like we do.” Husk muttered, his embarrassment getting the better of him. You both stayed quiet for a bit, the anticipation absolutely killing Angel. After what felt like ages of silence, Angel went over to you, nudging you towards Husk.

“Ahem, (Y/N), Husk here was actually wondering if you would accompany him tonight. There’s this new place that he’s been dying to try. It’s got some real fancy food!” Angel gave Husk a look as he tried to get the ball rolling. Husk only blushed and looked towards you to see how you reacted to his- well Angel’s- proposal.

“Ooo! Sounds great! I’d love to. Are you coming too?” You questioned. The ask made Husk die a little inside.

“No, nope. I’ve got some uh..things to attend to! So just the two of you. A date, you could call it.” Angel clarified, giving a not so subtle wink towards Husk, who returned it with a glare.

You feel your face heat up and for some reason your heart seems to skip a beat. Just you and Husk? There was nothing wrong with that. But the idea excited you nonetheless. Now that you thought about it, it was rare you and Husk got time alone outside the hotel. Sure he had suggested going out often. But not on.. a date as Angel had suggested.

You smile, moving to link your arm with Husk’s, “Yeah! That sounds great actually.”

Husk looks surprised at your reaction, he was halfway expecting you to suggest inviting anyone else to the outing. He can’t help the grin that forms on his face.

“Well then.. let’s get out of here.” Husk says, guiding you out of Angel’s room. As the two of you are walking down the hallways, Angel calls out to the both of you.

“Have fun, lovebirds! Husk, don’t ruin that dress, it was expensive!” Angel shouts, making Husk flip him off, grumbling a bit.

“Are we eating messy food? I can change-..” You start, but Husk cuts you off.

“No- No, sweetheart, Angel is just a prick. Don’t worry.. let’s just focus on tonight.”

“Just us..”

[monstersandmaw]

Male orc x gender neutral reader (light nsfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Commission number two folks!

Content: Gender and body neutral reader who’s autistic deals with sensory overload while at a funfair, stimming includes rocking and pressure on the hands. Male orc offers a way out so the reader can catch their breath. Very brief mention of the orc losing a close friend in the past year, and of deciding to live more in the moment because of it. Light-ish nsfw at the end with a bit of a fade to black. 

Wordcount: 7562

Three hours ago, you’d been sure you could handle this. How could you not? It was a day out with your friends for Lily’s birthday, but of course, the orc had chosen the modern equivalent of a jousting tournament to show off her skills to her girlfriend. Still, you and Luke and Ellis had met up and made your way through town, collecting Lily and Maggie outside a gelateria, where naturally you all paused to buy the most amazing ice cream in town. With a start like that, how could things possibly go wrong?

After a leisurely walk to the fairground on the outskirts of town, you’d watched Luke win a fluffy white rabbit toy that was almost as big as he was on the coconut shy, despite the way the game was obviously rigged, but the werewolf had wagged his shaggy grey tail and howled his victory to the sky and clutched his new friend to his chest like it was his own goddamn child, and you’d clapped and cheered along with everyone else at the soppy wolf.

You hadn’t noticed the way you'd started to grip one hand with the other, squeezing tightly with finger and thumb just to give a little release to the steady buildup of pressure inside you as the atmosphere of the fanfare closed in around you. You also didn’t notice that you were gently rocking from side to side on the spot while you waited for Ellis to decide if he was going to go and say hi to the girl he’d been crushing on for a while, so when you found a teenager staring openly at you from the queue for the paintball stand, you assumed their attention was on Ellis.

Ellis usually attracted looks, not only because he was a goblin — a species that was relatively rare in your part of the world — but because his storm-grey skin was mottled all over with pale patches from vitiligo. He wasn’t bothered by the attention for the most part, but when you saw exactly where their gaze was directed instead — at your twisting hands — you felt an ugly stab of something bitter go through you. Carnivals may not offer the outdated and heartless ‘freak show’ elements anymore, but boy were you made to feel like one sometimes by other people.

“Hey, look!” Ellis exclaimed, his scratchy, reedy voice cutting through the maelstrom of noise and crush of people easily enough. “There she is! I’m gonna go see if she’s up for a ferris wheel ride. You think she’ll say yes?”

Your nod came out jerky and a bit stilted, but you mustered a smile of encouragement for your friend and he grinned back at you, all his sharp teeth glinting in the sunshine. Then something shifted in his expression and he frowned. “You ok?” he asked as his completely black eyes went a little wider with concern.

Again, you nodded and tried to look a little more convincing. After weeks of dancing around each other, he was finally going to shoot his shot, and there was no way you wanted him to miss because of you. “Fine,” you croaked. The word came out like a cat hocking up a hairball, but at least you got it out.

“Ok. Text me, alright?” he said. “Text me if you wanna go.”

You nodded. No way were you going to be the reason everyone left. If things got bad, you’d just… bail. Somehow. If you could find your way out of the crush of people without imploding first.

Glancing right, you saw Lily raise the hammer on the high striker and watched her muscles bunch and flex in her arms, shoulders and back. She was wearing a black tank top that said, ‘If lost, return Butch to Femme Fatale’ and beside her stood pint-sized Maggie in her denim hot pants and white t-shirt that read ‘Femme Fatale’. It was adorable, honestly, but as you stood there alone in the stream of people coursing and jostling down the avenue of grass between the smaller stands and side-shows, over-stimulation swamped you completely and you found yourself drowning silently.

Flashing lights, blaring funfair music, screaming, children running this way and that, rides rumbling and rattling on all sides, electronic bleeps and jingles mingling into a cacophonous mixtape in the air and reverberating in your head, cartoon pistol noises on the laser gun range sounding over and over and over, more screaming as the pendulum ride swung overhead once again…

The sensory overload raked its claws across your skin and left you with white noise in your head and cotton wool in your mouth.

The scent of candy floss grew chokingly thick in the air as you just stood there, paralysed.

Out of nowhere, a small and extremely solid lizardfolk kid barrelled into you, nearly knocking you flying. His horned head collided with your thigh and it hurt, but you didn’t cry out. His father scooped him up by the hand and apologised to you, but when he saw you rocking from side to side, he snatched his kid away and shot you another look, as if you were contagious or dangerous and not just struggling to kick start your brain again so you could get yourself the heck out of there and find somewhere safe to process everything.

Struggling to catch your breath, you gripped one hand with the other, squeezing as hard as you could but it wasn’t enough. There was just too much, inside and out, and you had nowhere to put it — nowhere to park it all until you could deal with it.

Someone ducked in front of you, their huge form blotting out the searing light of the afternoon sun.

Blinking, you looked up, still rocking, and tried to focus on their face.

He was an orc, you realised when you saw the huge, jutting tusks in his lower jaw and the expanse of sage green skin. A long, thick plait of black hair hung forward over his left shoulder, and through it ran a streak dyed a dark, vibrant red that was really attractive; it complemented the green tone of his freckled skin beautifully. Wearing a white, sleeveless tank top that had the logo of the fairground company on it, he wasn’t built like he spent every spare minute in the gym, but he looked like he could have lifted the ferris wheel right off its supports with no trouble at all.

Someone snickered nearby and you flinched, but you didn’t break the steady rocking motion of your body while mentally you tried to fend off all the unending stimuli around you. The orc’s expression darkened when he caught the sound of  laughter, and he stepped pointedly a little to the left. The movement served to block you from their sight and to refocus your attention on something that was quiet and solid and steady in front of you.

Yeah, he was solid alright. You blinked and watched the corners of his mouth twitch upwards just a little behind his colossal tusks, both of which bore silver caps over the tips to indicate that he had reached full maturity in the eyes of his culture. It probably meant that his tusks were filed to sharp points beneath the caps too. It was rare for orcs who lived in the city to stick to the older ways, but as you continued to stare up at him and move side to side while you ran your hands over your forearms, you noticed the beads in his braid of different materials: wood, copper, steel, glass, stone, and even bone. He’d lost someone close to him then at some point. Gods, now was not the time to be fishing everything you knew about orcs out of the depths of your brain.

For another few seconds, he continued to shield you from the staring judgement of the people in the queue for the nearest booth, but when you didn't seem to be able to settle, he jutted his chin to the side of the grassy avenue between the stalls.

“My name is Rhokann. You wanna step this way for a second? Catch your breath where it’s a bit quieter?” he said.

When no words came to your lips, he tilted his head just a little and then beckoned you with a big hand. “There’s a quieter spot over by that oak tree and the river. You want to come with me for a minute?”

You did. You also wanted to say thank you, but the words got glued up on their way from your brain to your mouth, so you just nodded.

He stuck out his arm and halted the flow of people for a moment to usher you between the candy floss stall and something else that was painted a thousand lurid colours so you didn’t look too long at it. Only when you saw the bole of a huge, old oak and a wide patch of un-trampled grass around it did you let out a shaky breath and turn to see him standing a little way off. A couple of people peered after you down the gap between the stalls, and he looked back at them with a very articulate and animalistic growl. That done, he stepped a little to his right, obscuring the view of you down the small alley with his body.

“Forget about them and look out over the river for a minute,” he suggested.

His dark brown eyes slid from you to the railings behind you, and you turned to see the river gushing in a white foam over the weir that controlled its flow through the city beyond. The sounds of the funfair behind you faded slowly, dissolving into the steady stream of white noise from the river, and you took a deeper breath and gradually released the death-grip you’d had on your own hands.

You let your gaze unfocus a little, but your body kept on moving as it tried to help you dissipate all the tension that had been building in your muscles and your mind ever since you’d first arrived at the fair.

A shadow moved in the corner of your vision, and you found Rhokann approaching slowly. He cast a pointed look at the metal railing to your left and said, “You mind if I join you for a moment?”

You shook your head. The word ‘no’ didn’t want to come, but he didn’t seem to take it as rudeness.

“Cheers,” he said. “Carnival gets intense, huh?”

This time, you nodded and he smiled when he saw it. You liked the way it hitched his mouth up around his tusk on the right, and it brought a twinkle to his coffee-brown eyes.

“Take your time,” he said. “You here with your friends?”

You nodded.

“They know where you were?”

You shook your head, but reached into your pocket and drew out your phone. Shaking it a little, you hoped he’d get the idea that they could contact you if they wanted to find you, or the other way around, and he smiled again in understanding. Your heart skipped a beat. He may have been seven and a half feet tall, but he had a gentle demeanour that you hadn’t really realised was possible in someone that big. He had a paunch too, which he clearly wasn’t trying to hide with his close-fitting, sleeveless top, and you could see from the scoop of the neckline that he had an attractive swirl of dark hair across his pecs that made you wonder what the rest of him looked like without clothes on; a fact that was startling enough in that moment to make you flush hot and look away.

“You want me to keep you company for a bit, or do you want some space?” he asked after another couple of minutes floated past.

You shook your head and then struggled to find the words to make him stay just a bit longer. When he saw you floundering, he smiled and asked, “Stay?”

You nodded, exhaling in relief, even as you fought off a rush of disappointment in not being able to form the words.

“You’re good,” he said with a wave of a huge hand. “Don’t stress talking.”

He took a deep, luxuriant inhale and leaned his massive forearms on the metal railing, easing his weight forward and gazing out at the river. His braid went all the way to the small of his back and it made you want to wrap it around your hand and tug just to see what kind of sound he’d make, and again, you had to look away before he caught you lusting after him. Just because you’d been rescued by a heroic stranger, didn’t mean you had to go falling in love with him in the following five minutes. It didn’t hurt that he hadn’t batted an eyelid at your stimming, or that he didn’t seem bothered by the fact that you’d been rendered almost completely non-verbal by the whole experience.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket a while later and you drew it out again to see that Lily was looking for you.

‘Where are you, Titch?’ she’d texted and you smiled when you saw the nickname. The massive orc had given it to you back in college, and it had stuck ever since. Even Ellis called you ‘Titch’ sometimes, despite the fact that he was nearly a foot and a half shorter than you. ‘We turned around and you’d gone!’

Rhokann was watching you from the corners of his kind eyes, and you waggled the phone again before typing out a message to Lily. ‘Needed to step away for a second. Got rescued by a super hot orc guy. More at ten.’

Lily texted back immediately. ‘Super hot orc guy, huh? I’ll be the judge of that. Where are you?’

‘Big oak tree on the edge of the park near the river. Don’t embarrass me please.’

‘As if I’d ever…’

‘You spend every spare minute you’re not kissing Maggie trying to embarrass me and El and Luke.’

‘Fair play. We’re nearby. I can see the tree’

You locked your phone and swallowed thickly, feeling a bit more able to talk. “Friend’s coming…” you faltered. Wow. Nice and articulate, you sneered at yourself with your usual sarcasm.

“That’s good,” Rhokann smiled back. He made no move to push himself back upright from the railings though, and shifted his gaze back out to the city that sprawled over the other side of the river. He gave another sigh.

You stepped a little closer and looked up at him. “You… ok?” you asked.

“Mm,” he hummed. When he looked back down at you, his dark eyes were strangely sad. “Just… thinking,” he said with a gesture of his hand near his temple. “I’ve been working here all summer, and it’s been amazing, but I’m starting a full time job in a week. I’m just thinking about what’s coming next.”

“Doing what?” Words were starting to come back a little quicker now, but it wasn’t great.

He turned his head over his shoulder to look at you, but before he could answer your question, you heard Lily’s voice coming from behind you.

“Hey Titch!” she called, and then she eyed the other orc ostentatiously up and down.

She raised an eyebrow when she saw the beads in his braid and the cuffs around his thick tusks, and you watched Rhokann deflate a little. Lily was not a traditional orc. For one, she was dating a human, which wasn’t exactly frowned upon but humans weren’t normally seen as suitable partners for her kind, and for another, she had cut her black hair short in a style shaved close to her skull above her pointed ears and left a little longer on top. She wore no cuffs on her tusks, and she’d filed them to softly-rounded points. “As much for Maggie’s pleasure as my own damned convenience,” she’d once told you.

Lily disdained orcs who stuck to the old ways, thinking them brutish thugs stuck in the past, and she folded her arms as she stared Rhokann down. “You wanna head home?” she asked in a low growl.

You turned your attention to Rhokann and he offered you a tiny, sad smile and a shrug of his shoulder. You wanted to stay and get to know him, but you also desperately wanted to be away from the fairground now. Your body felt drained of life, like you were running on fumes, and all you wanted was the quiet of your apartment, a pair of noise-cancelling headphones, and a good book.

In the end, Rhokann decided for you. He offered you a broader smile, and said, “It was nice meeting you. Take care.”

You’d never regretted your tendency to go non-verbal more than watching him walk away and not being able to say thank you.

With Lily on one side, you were joined by Luke a few minutes later, still hauling around the giant fluffy bunny he’d won, its ears flopping comically with each of his bounding steps, but you kept scanning every face for Rhokann. You saw an ogre with green skin that was a similar shade to Rhokann’s, but disappointment bit deep when you realised it wasn’t him, and when a flash of red hair up ahead drew your attention, you barely contained a sob when you saw it was a troll with multiple streaks of red in their black hair.

The walk back home passed in a daze, and you spent the rest of the day buzzing in the worst way possible.

A week later, Luke texted and asked if you wanted to grab breakfast on your way to work, and since you only had stale cereal in your cupboard, you practically leapt at the chance. ‘You mind if we drop my car off at the garage on the way?’ he asked with a subsequent text. ‘There’s an amazing little cafe just around the corner and we can get the metro from there afterwards.’

When his sputtering old deathtrap wheezed onto the garage forecourt though, your heart practically sputtered out as well. There, in oil-stained overalls, was Rhokann.

He didn’t spot you to start with, but when you climbed out of the passenger side and closed the door, his eyes flickered to you and then away again. Then back in a huge, obvious double-take, and his face split into a hearty grin. “Hey,” he chuckled once he’d taken the keys from Luke. “I didn’t think I’d get the chance to see you again.”

“Neither did I,” you admitted, and Luke shot you a look. He was in his human form this time, but he was no less intimidating than he looked as a shifted werewolf. For all that he was happy to haul a fluffy, cartoon rabbit around a funfair all day without a lick of self-consciousness, he was a dedicated gym-rat and had the body to match, but while his commitment was certainly admirable, he wasn’t your type. Rhokann, on the other hand, with his strongman physique and solid layer of fat to soften the strength that lay beneath… unfff… It was hard to look at him for long without feeling your skin start to prickle with heat.

“Wait, you two know each other?” Luke asked you and you nodded.

“He came to my rescue at the fairground last weekend while you were showing that white rabbit the time of its life,” you grinned.

At that, Luke flushed. You weren’t the only one who liked Rhokann’s build, but the orc wasn’t looking at Luke’s incredibly toned arms, which were currently being deliberately shown off to amazing advantage by his tight, black t-shirt. No, Rhokann was looking at you like you were the most interesting thing he’d seen in a year, and it was enough to make a cloud of butterflies erupt in your chest.

“Damn,” Luke hissed down at you, smirking. “You weren’t kidding about the ‘super hot orc guy’ thing.”

At that, your eyes went wide with horror and you smacked him in the chest with a wild flail of your hand. “I can’t believe Lily told you I said that, but you didn’t have to fucking repeat it!” you hissed around a strangled yelp. “In front of him,” you added through gritted teeth.

Rhokann chuckled quietly from a few feet away, and you turned quickly back to look at him. He raised one thick, black eyebrow and you rolled your eyes.

Turning to Luke in desperation as a mild panic seeped across your brain, you blurted, “Didn’t you say they were super busy at breakfast? Come on, we’d better go…”

And with that, you bolted from the garage without waiting for Luke to follow.

You weren’t proud, and you were sorely disappointed in yourself for chickening out, but in your defence, your friend had just embarrassed the hell out of you in front of your hero of the day. What if Rhokann just thought you were some human with a crush now?

Luke caught up with you, looking back over his shoulder at Rhokann for a second, and then trotted down the road at your side. “Hey, wait, I’m… I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“It’s ok,” you groaned. “I know how it feels when there’s a gorgeous guy standing there looking like… that… In your case, stupid stuff falls out of your mouth. In my case, I clam up.”

“Fair, but still,” Luke groused, holding the door of the cafe open for you and letting you step in ahead of him. “I’m sorry.”

The scent of coffee and sweet icing sugar wafted around you and you forgot your embarrassment for a bit, but the way you’d scuppered your chances haunted you for the rest of the morning at work.

By the time you got home, you were fractious and stimming and in need of some space to slough off the day on your own terms. When your phone chimed a little while later, you assumed it would be one of your friends, but it was an unknown number, and your heart skipped a beat.

‘Hey, it’s Rhokann. I hope this isn’t presumptuous of me. Your friend Luke gave me your number and said it was an apology, but he didn’t say what for. Anyway, if you’re not interested, just ignore this and block my number, but I’d love to see you again. Let me know if you’re up for that, and maybe we can figure something out soon. If not, I’m glad I met you all the same and I won’t contact you again.’

No one had ever said anything like that to you, and you stared at the text for a full five minutes.

The first person you texted though was Luke to yell at him affectionately in all caps. He called you back, and you accepted the call with a little huff that made him laugh with quiet fondness. “I’m sorry, Titch,” he said. “But I fucked up, and I figured he’d been about to ask for your number before you bolted…”

“Yeah, but I would have had the chance to say no…” you said.

“True, and I’m sorry I interfered again,” he sighed, and then after barely a beat had passed, “So are you gonna meet up?”

You rolled your eyes and flopped down onto the sofa. “I haven’t texted back. But probably.”

“Yes! He’s stunning. You saw those caps on his tusks though, right? He’s old school… He’s probably gonna go all-out to impress you…”

“So long as he doesn’t literally hunt and catch dinner for me, I don’t mind. Lily told me about orc courtship, and I am not interested in a whole fucking elk on my doorstep or something…”

“Nah, but he might challenge the chef to a death match for the honour of feeding you…”

“Oh please don’t even joke about it,” you groaned, and Luke did laugh, long and loud. “I’m hanging up now, you bastard.”

“Love you too, Titch,” he said, and hung up for you.

It took a while to figure out how to reply to Rhokann, but eventually you came up with something that you hoped didn’t sound super desperate and strange. ‘Sorry I bailed earlier like that. Luke has no shame, I swear, but I’ve told him off for going behind my back and we’re friends again now. You free this Friday evening?’

Before you could chicken out, you sent the message and sat back on the sofa, wringing your hands quietly in your lap and breathing steadily.

His reply came five minutes later. ‘If it helps, he was really awkward about broaching the topic with me when he came to collect his car. And yes I am free this Friday. What were you thinking?’

‘All on me then?’

‘I have suggestions but I wondered what you wanted. Cocktails at ‘IceCube and Henbane’? Catching that new movie they’re advertising all over town? Dinner somewhere? A walk along the river and takeaway from one of the food trucks? Any combination of those?’

Realising he was probably letting you decide on something that wouldn’t be as overstimulating as the funfair had been, you decided to keep being playful first. ‘You know henbane is poisonous to humans?’

‘They serve human-safe cocktails too, and non-alcoholic ones too that are just as good. Steer well clear of the naga-specific menu though because that shit could clean out a drain. Or strip the rust off your buddy’s car.’

You barked a laugh that echoed off the walls of your apartment. ‘I’ll tell him you said that.’

‘Go ahead, I said as much to him already.’

His texts had a cocky kind of confidence that he’d not really exuded on the day you’d met him at the fair, but then you remembered how he’d drawn himself up to his full height to shield you from those artless onlookers and flexed his shoulders just a fraction to make them back off, and you figured the two sides of him could probably sit well on his bulky frame after all.

‘Oof, I bet his ego took a hit with that. Let’s do cocktails and then maybe walk them off along the river afterwards?’

‘Sounds perfect. Shall I meet you somewhere first or meet there?’

You looked the place up online, which you probably should have done first in case it was out of your price range, and hit the map on the website to see where it was. Having arranged to meet him there, you signed off for the night and tried to get your mind to stop spinning. Somehow, despite two missed chances, the universe had thrown you a gift and a third chance in the form of Luke’s meddling.

That Friday, dressed in what you hoped would be an appropriate outfit for a cocktail bar in a swankier part of the city, you headed out with your heart in your throat.

Rhokann was impossible to miss, standing under the soft, orange light of the lamp outside the cocktail bar, and wow did he look good in black dress pants and a white shirt. His twin silver tusk-caps caught the light, and you noted that this time he had his hair tied back off his face in twin braids that melted into a single rope that hung down his spine.

He spotted you and turned to watch you walk towards him, but he didn’t make any kind of move towards you until you came to a stop in front of him and looked up into his softly smiling face.

“Hi,” you said awkwardly.

“Hi. You look gorgeous,” he added, eyeing you up and down in a way that made his gaze feel like a physical presence against your skin, and it was all you could do to repress a shiver.

You swallowed thickly. “Likewise.”

“Shall we head in?”

“Lead the way,” you said, not really wanting to walk into the unfamiliar space first. Rhokann just nodded and pushed the door open, holding it for you to enter behind him before heading into the softly-lit, wood-panelled bar.

It had the cosy, secretive air of a speakeasy, and as you wove through the tables behind the server who had looked Rhokann up and down and licked her lips in a very unsubtle display of interest, you spotted someone playing an upright piano in a far corner. Rhokann thanked the server politely and let his eyes drift back to you a moment later, the woman apparently forgotten. Something warmed in your chest and you took your seat opposite him.

He was one of those people that had real presence, and it wasn’t just his size that conjured it around him like a tangible aura. There was something about him that made people look at him, but his eyes never left you. After two menus had been set down before you, he said, “Tonight’s on me, if that’s alright?”

“You’re sure?”

Rhokann inclined his head and you caught sight of an earring dangling from his right ear. It looked like a piece of jet shaped like a small fang, polished and set in silver and dangling by a single link to a ball stud in his earlobe. He had silver rings up the line of cartilage to the pointed tips of his ears, and in the lobe of his left he had a simple silver stud. At the artfully-open neck of his white shirt, you could see the hint of an orcish tattoo and a whisper of dark hair that made something thrum through you again.

In contrast to your habit of moving around, he seemed still and calm as a monolith, and you found yourself drawn to that; drawn to his steadiness in a way you’d never experienced with anyone. Over the course of the next two hours, the two of you also talked in a way you’d never found easy with anyone. He listened, and in a measured, easy, back and forth of conversational give and take, you got to know each other.

His family was wealthy and lived in the country for the most part, and yes, they were very traditional by modern orcish standards. “You might think I’m pretty formal when it comes to orcish ways,” he said, looking self-conscious for the first time all evening, “But you should see my parents and my two older brothers…” He took a deep draw of his smoky, whisky cocktail and blew out a breath. The tip of his tongue caressed his lower lip just a little as he savoured the lingering taste, and your eyes tracked the movement hungrily.

To distract yourself, you eyed his silver tusk-caps and said, “I was going to ask about…” and tapped the side of your mouth awkwardly, not sure if you should really be asking about his orcish jewellery and personal tastes so soon.

To your relief, Rhokann smiled and brought his finger and thumb up to the right hand tusk. He lifted the cap off and turned it over in his hand for a second before handing it to you to look at. The tusk beneath gleamed beautifully in the low light, and you had been correct in guessing that his tusks were tipped with wickedly sharp points beneath them.

In your fingers, the cap was practically the size of a tiny shot glass, and you could see the orcish patterns engraved into its surface all the way around. “It’s beautiful,” you said. “My friend Lily told me a bit about orcish culture, but she doesn’t really keep to traditions, so I don’t know all that much. Just the things she personally doesn’t like. Which, to be fair, seems like a lot when you get her started on a rant.”

He laughed and delicately took the silver cap back from you when you held it out to him. He slid it easily back into place and said, “You can ask me anything you like. I figured your friend didn’t like me much when she gave me the once-over at the fairground.”

“She’s protective of the people she cares for,” you said. “It’s the one orcish trait she hasn’t abandoned. That, and showing off her muscles for her girlfriend.” The heady atmosphere and the slight rush of adrenaline that was coursing through you from being so close to him at last was making you bold, and you spoke before you’d realised you might actually be insulting him, but Rhokann only laughed.

“Ahh, those traits are etched into our DNA,” he said. “You’re gonna have to go a long way to find an orc who isn’t protective, and who doesn’t like to show off just a little bit.”

You stared pointedly at his muscles beneath the white shirt and then looked him in the eye. “If you’ve got it, why not show it off a bit.”

“Only if it works…”

You cocked an eyebrow. “Can’t you tell?”

He leaned just a fraction closer and your heart skipped a beat or two as his big, brown eyes seemed to glow softly. “I’m getting some hints,” he purred. “You slipped through my fingers twice now,” he went on, bringing his hand up onto the table and laying it knuckle-down on the wooden surface between your empty glasses. “I’m not going to let a third time pass me by without a proper answer from you.”

“What’s the question?” you asked faintly.

He smiled. “Can I see you again after tonight?”

You nodded.

“You want to get out of here yet?”

Again, you nodded.

His smile returned, and you sat back in your seat while he hailed the server and paid for your drinks. He gave her a tip generous enough to make her blush, and then stood and looked down at you. “Ready?”

A third nod was all the answer you could muster, but he didn’t seem to think you rude.

He walked behind you this time as you led the way out, and when you stepped out into the balmy, end-of-summer evening, you heard him heave a huge sigh. Glancing back over your shoulder, you found him looking at you, and you flushed. “What?”

“I’m just glad I got the chance to see you again. I thought… I thought that was it when your friend bustled you away from me.”

“Why were you working there?” you asked bluntly. You wanted to know why he was working as a mechanic at a tiny garage on the edge of town too, if his family was so well-off, but you didn’t know him well enough to ask something so direct. “At the fair, I mean.”

He smiled. “I wanted to?” he shrugged. “I’ve always been the dutiful son — I went to a good university and got a respectable degree and got a sensible job, but I felt… choked.”

Rhokann sighed again and checked the street for traffic before gesturing with his hand for you to start crossing. You walked by his side as the pair of you headed towards the river, where a long, flat promenade stretched, and you listened to him talk. His beautiful, rumbling bass carried easily on the still evening, and it made you feel steady again amid the noise of the city behind you.

“I’m not on bad terms with my family or anything, but… after a close friend of mine passed last year, I decided that I was going to live my life on my terms, and not anyone else’s. My heritage is very important to me, but it’s not everything I am. My family doesn’t understand why I quit my career and got a summer job working at the fair of all places, or why I turned my love of cars and fixing things into a job as a mechanic.”

“If you’re happier now, that’s all that matters, right?” you said.

He grinned. “I’m happy tonight, that’s for sure.”

“You’re such a charmer.”

“If it works, right?” he chuckled. You got the impression there were depths to him that would slowly unravel to you over time, and you found yourself looking forward to it already.

“Yeah, it works,” you mumbled.

You walked along the embankment together for a while until his footsteps faltered and he asked, “Would you let me hold your hand?”

“Sure,” you smiled, hoping you didn't have sweaty palms.

His hands were rough and huge, but you made it work, and it was wonderful to have a physical connection with him after clicking over chat and drinks already.

In the lea of the oldest bridge that spanned the wide river, the two of you slowed and came to a natural halt to lean against the wall in easy silence, staring out at the water as it slid past in an inky, glittering ribbon.

Rhokann turned away from the view and the movement caught your attention, drawing your gaze up to his handsome face.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked in a hoarse murmur.

“Yes.”

Leaning down, Rhokann placed his palms on your jaw and angled your head gently upwards, but he didn’t kiss you right away. He bit his lower lip and although his eyes narrowed, you saw the way his pupils widened hungrily. “You’re stunning,” he exhaled. “I… I’ve wanted to kiss you all night.”

“Stop talking about it then, and do it,” you teased.

His eyes flashed and he closed the distance between you, hunching over and pressing his mouth against yours. His tusks framed your mouth beautifully, the silver caps nudging into your cheeks a little as he kissed you senseless. You’d never been kissed like that. His hands left your face and wandered down to your waist, where he tightened his grip and picked you up, setting you down on the wide, stone wall that bordered the river. At that height, it was much easier for him to reach you, and he stepped closer, parting your knees to stand even nearer to you. You hooked your lower legs around his hips and let him kiss you over and over until your body felt like it was on fire.

Your fingers found the intricate plait of the braids on the side of his head and he moaned when you ran your fingertips over the pattern. “I want you,” he said. “Not tonight if you don’t want it, but I need you to know I want you. However you’d like…”

“I want you too,” you breathed back in the scant space between you, foreheads touching. It felt more intimate than any words you’d ever spoken, but it also felt true.

Your hands moved to grip his huge, rounded shoulders and you squeezed before running your palms across his pecs. His chest heaved and he sounded out of breath when he said, “My place isn’t far from here. You want to come back to mine?”

You nodded.

He lifted you down and took a moment with his eyes closed to breathe carefully. In the light of a nearby street lamp, you could see the impressive tent in his trousers, and you bit back a smile.

“Told you I want you,” he said when he caught you looking. “Come on.”

Flattered and a little intimidated, you walked with him back to his apartment. It wasn’t anything showy like a penthouse overlooking the city, but it was in a nice part of town, and it felt secure and homely as you followed him into the lift. In a small rush of bravery, you placed your hand at the small of his back and you felt as much as heard the groan of pleasure he let out in the small confines of the elevator. His skin radiated heat through the fabric, and you splayed your fingers, feeling the solid muscle and the slight softness there too that made you ache inside and out for him.

By the time you got to his front door, he was taking deliberately steady breaths, but the moment you were inside, he lost a little of that composure. “I’d offer you a drink, or —” You silenced him by reaching up and pressing your thumb along his lip before drawing him down to kiss you again. Part of you wanted him to take you right there in the hallway, but you had hoped for something a little more comfortable.

Rhokann undressed you carefully but insistently, and between the front door and his stylish, modern bedroom you left a trail of your clothes and his, until you were both in only your underwear by the time you were standing beside his massive bed.

Dark sheets stretched neatly across its huge expanse, and he let you push him down to sit on the edge of the mattress, gazing up at you with his hands resting at your hips, thumbs drawing idle lines across the fabric of your underwear. The evidence of his arousal was obvious, and a darker wet patch had started to seep into the material at the tip of his cock.

His body was soft but strong in the kind of way that you’d always adored. His paunch was evident, but his arms were like anchor cables, and while he might not have had the lean look of a social media gym-junkie, he could outlast any of them in a show of strength.

“I never thanked you,” you said, reaching around to the back of his head for the plait that you’d wanted to feel in your hands since the first time you’d seen him.

“For what?” he asked breathlessly. His pupils were huge and the light reflected in his warm eyes like a cat’s in the dark. Desire swept through you in a heady rush.

Slowly, taking your time about it, you straddled his lap and sank yourself down to grind your hips decadently against his, and when his hard cock moved against your body, he let out a long, broken moan.

You tightened your hold on his braid and the sound he made would stay with you forever. The deep, guttural groan rumbled from his chest and his eyes rolled back behind fluttering eyelids. Beneath you, you felt his cock twitch.

“Please,” he gasped. His grip tightened on your hips and he shuddered like he was losing control of all his strength, fighting to keep from having his way with you. The jet earring dangling from his right ear glinted softly as it swayed like a tiny pendulum in the void between his earlobe and his shoulder.

“I never thanked you for taking such good care of me,” you said.

The orc responded exactly as you’d expected he would, and gave a throaty hum of pleasure.

“When I needed you, you protected me… got me out of there…”

You’d chosen your words very carefully, and Rhokann arched his spine, jutting his hips up and practically begging to fuck you without uttering a word.

You twisted his braid around your hand one more time and he tipped his head back, following the direction of the force you put on his head. The lick of red in his forelock looked perfect in the warm light of his bedroom, and you had been right about the orcish tattoos that covered his chest, right down to his hips. He also had the most delicious chest hair and the dark trail that ran down from his navel to the waistband of his tight boxer-briefs was gradually making you lose your mind.

“You were patient and understanding, and you didn’t mind that I didn’t have my words then,” you went on. “But I have them now, don’t I?”

“You do,” he choked. “You do. Please… Please…”

“Let me thank you properly then,” you said, and climbed carefully off his lap. You looked pointedly at his underwear and said, “Off.”

“Only if you do to,” he said, and you knew you’d met your counterpart in him.

He gave and took in equal measure, and as the two of you lost yourselves tangled in his sheets that night, you knew he was going to be the best thing that could have happened to you. The two of you moved in perfect synchrony, and you came apart within a heartbeat of each other. Rhokann made a mess of the sheets and you made more noise than you’d ever made coming in your life, and when the two of you lay back, sweaty and satiated at last, he wrapped his arm around you and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered.

“Thank the gods for third chances,” you smiled and he laughed quietly. “And meddling werewolves.”

“Indeed. Come here.” He tugged you against his body so that you were lying half-propped against him, with one arm draped over his soft middle, and you trailed your fingers up the centre of his chest. “You staying the night?”

You nodded, and hoped it would be the first of many.

__

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Masterlist | Ko-fi (tip jar)

[takami-takami]

Accidents.

includes— hawks x reader. minors dni. suggestive.

warnings— daddy kink. predator/prey undertones. keigo being a meanie.

You wish the ground would just swallow you whole before his smug look does.

"Don't let it get to your head! Keigo—" You squeak, covering your own face with one hand and pushing his away with the other. Your palm does nothing to quell the mischievous laughing fit that your boyfriend doesn't seem to have the courtesy nor self control to keep to himself.

Don't let it get to his head? His head couldn't be any bigger in this moment.

He seizes the opening to situate himself on top of you with ease, keeping you caged beneath him so he can bear witness to the full extent of your misery. Your hands lie helpless, locked under his hold and pinned above your head to leave you wide open. He wants nothing obstructing his view of your dreadfully desperate squirms.

He considers locking your legs in place beneath his, too. It wouldn't be difficult at all to overpower you, but the butterfly kicks behind his back that ruffle the sheets beneath are just too delicious to watch.

Your bedroom has become a locked box of your whimpers and flails, and he loves it. What he wouldn't give to cage you here and throw away the key.

"Keigo...? Sorry, dunno who that is." His eyes roll in time with his shoulders, while that wicked grin never falters.

"Could've sworn you were just calling me something else," he sings above you. He purses his lips like he just can't catch his thought. Bastard. You'd be screaming into your hands if you had access to them. "What was it you said... What was it..." he hums a devilish, giddy tune, turning to catch your eye.

"Care to remind me?"

"You're an asshole!"

"No, that's not quite what you called me."

You huff in response, opting to stare at the ceiling behind him. Anywhere but that stupid, god-awful, pretty face of his. Maybe if you try to pull your wrists free, he'd take pity on you and— nope, still not giving an inch of leeway.

He notices your weak attempt. Poor thing, he thinks. You don't actually think there's anywhere to run, do you? Your halfhearted flailing underneath him is cute though, he'll give you that. So cute. Almost as cute as your little slip-up that got you into this fucking mess.

This is your mess, you know. You did start it, after all, and who is Keigo if not a man who finishes the job? It'd be criminal to not keep this game going for as long as it'll take to satisfy his instinct to torment you.

He's not a sadist, he swears.

He just knows prey when he sees it.

"Kei', I didn't— can you please just let this go?" You finally look at him with those puppy dog eyes. In another circumstance, they would get him to do whatever you want; but for once, he decides to be selfish. He's just having too much fun.

"Why should I? Don't tell me you're embarassed," he posits, as if you aren't the picture of shame incarnate beneath him. "Nothin' to be embarassed about, doll." He closes the gap between you, nose barely brushing the line of your jaw before he dares to have a taste. "Plenty of people would jump at the oppurtunity to call me da—"

"Hawks!"

"Oooh, yet another name and you still won't repeat the one from earlier. Gonna hurt my feelings, baby." Raptor eyes zero in on the juncture of your neck. When you strain to turn your head away from him, you leave your jugular completely exposed. He sighs. You're fucking helpless. He supposes that's why he's the pro hero, and you're just the little hare captured betwixt his talons. 

With a finality settling in his gut, he latches on and sinks his canines into you. You go limp below with the hitch of a breath, kicks slowing to a halt.

"You know, I think I like this." When his hands release yours, he's sure your muscles won't even twitch. Frozen under his spell, you are the moth to his proverbial flame; the rabbit in his headlights.

"I think that name is already one of my favorites. You'll say it again for me, won't you? Tell me..."

"Who's your fucking daddy?"

[la-petite-lapin]

Unlikely Friendships | Part Two

Unlikely Friendships masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley x single mum!reader Word Count: 3.4k Series warnings (may update between chapters): 18+, Minors DNI, single mother reader, mentions of violence, cannon-typical violence, injury description, shitty parenting (not by reader), swearing

He knew that it was pathetic. That the one and only thought on his mind as the field medics battled to patch up the gunshot wound in his shoulder was of you and Sunnie.

The 141 had been deployed to some far-flung corner of the globe, scouting for information on their upcoming, larger mission. Easy, they'd said. In and out, quiet - light work, really. But, that had gone down quicker than a lead balloon when one of the back-up guys had been discovered rooting around in the mainframes.

Thanks to Simon's quick thinking, the bullet had found a home in his shoulder as opposed to the middle of Gaz's forehead.

It was minor damage - by Simon's standards, anyway - and he begrudged the fact that they were all fussing over him. That he was likely going to have to take it easy for the next couple of weeks, at least. Then there was the fact that their op was definitely going to have to be postponed, especially now their targets had their hackles up.

So that was why he was still holed up in his quarters at the late hour of 10am, laid up under the sheets of his double bed with his good arm tucked under his head. Glancing across at his barren desk, devoid of any personal effects - much like the rest of his room - a glint of sunshine-yellow fur snagged his attention. He gazed at Mr Rabbit with a kind of reverence, a calm film passing in front of his thoughts, shutting out all of the usual, violent background noise.

He missed that kid; bold and chatty in the face of a monster such as himself.

He also missed you.

He wasn't too proud to admit it either; that he'd thoughts about Sunnie's cute mum almost every day since you'd met in the hallway. It wasn't even anything purely physical that had stood out to him at first. He'd been drawn to you like a man in the desert to water; lured in by the fiery passion in your eyes when you thought that your precious baby had gone missing - lost by her careless twat of a father,

He turned your name over again and again in his head. Thought about your perfect, plush lips moving as you said it. The way that you'd held yourself, tall and proud, hand on your hip - full of fire and...

It was that thought that finally dragged Simon out of bed, into the shower, and into some clean clothes. Once he was decent, he hauled himself into the rec room, greeted by post-workout Johnny and Gaz lounging on the overstuffed sofas.

It was no secret around the barracks that Gaz felt like shit for what had happened. He'd never been the lucky recipient of Simon's suicidal heroics before but, apparently, it was "fucking dreadful". All of the guilt and terror, and none of the actual, physical damage to boot.

Simon offered them a cheery wave but ducked straight past them before they could stop him, making a beeline for the second, much rowdier group occupying what was meant to be the 141's private room.

The secondary taskforce they'd thrown together to support on their upcoming op was gathered around the pool table at the back. That included Daniel Harper; just the man that Simon happened to be looking for.

As if sensing Simon's approach, the sergeant looked up from the game he was spectating on. "Oh hey, Ghost. How's the arm holding up, buddy?"

Simon stood, deathly still and stone-faced under the thick cotton fabric of his mask. He knew that he was intimidating - could see that familiar flash of fear in Sgt Harper's eyes. It was widely known by then that the guy who'd screwed up the op - a personal friend of Harper's - had been given the finest, public dressing down of his career by Price after they'd returned to base. Fortunately, he'd been removed from base by the time Ghost was up and prowling again. Though, the fear that he or another of the 141 might retaliate for the royal fuck-up still seemed to hang heavy amongst the secondary squad.

Sgt Harper gulped.

"Would be better if I hadn't been shot," Simon said emotionlessly.

The men playing at the pool table slowly lowered their ques. It was as if they were all holding their breath; waiting for him to do something.

Waiting to see a glimpse of the notorious Ghost come out to play.

"When's that daughter and ex of yours coming back to base?" Simon asked, tone giving away nothing of his intentions or mood.

The sergeant's expression switched to a confused one. One eyebrow raised, he cocked his head to the side. "I'm not too sure. Missus isn't too happy that I let the kid wander off."

He said it like it was an annoyance - like you were daft for not trusting him alone with your child. If anything, Simon thought you were damn right.

"Why'd you want to know anyway, Lt?" he continued, casting a glance back to his buddies with a smirk like he was about to say something tremendously funny. The look of a man who needed validation from others to feel secure in himself. "No offence, but you don't seem like the wife and kids type."

Simon damn-near snarled.

There the sergeant stood - some second-rate, low-rank tool - with no idea whatsoever about Simon's personal life or background. None of them did. He could be a family man for all they knew. He wasn't, but he could be. And - quite frankly - the dig at you, however subtle, was something he found disgusting. You were the mother of that idiot's child, separated or not, and that afforded you a certain level of respect, regardless.

The look of complete and utter calm in Simon's dead eyes shut off any murmurings before they could truly begin. "I have something of theirs. Need to return it."

Sgt Harper frowned, eyes still glittering with amusement at his own shitty attempt at humour. "Like what?"

"Mr Rabbit."

The sergeant's expression turned sour, not escaping Simon's notice. "Oh, that tatty old rag. She won't miss it." The gleam in his eyes turned to an irritated one as he added, "I keep telling the missus to stop buying her all that crap, but she never listens."

What a charmer you are, Simon thought with a sneer.

"I'd rather return it to the little one, if that's all the same to you," Simon replied coolly, letting just a hint of a threat creep into his voice.

Sgt Harper's face paled slightly and a deeply buried alpha-male part of Simon's brain purred with satisfaction. He couldn't stop the train of thought that followed; that if he were Sunnie's father, he'd buy her all the stuffed animals she could ever want. Not a helpful thought to have.

Growing impatient, Simon tapped his foot against the floor and grumbled, "So when are they back on base, Sergeant?"

He gulped, the column of his throat working with the effort. Gingerly, he said, "I could call the missus and ask her to swing by this weekend. Does that work for you?"

Simon nodded, satisfied. "That's fine by me."

Without a thank you or goodbye, Simon sauntered away from the pool table. Instead of heading back to the comfortable isolation of his quarters, however, he dropped down onto the sofa beside Johnny. Both lads were leaning forward, grinning like a pair of Cheshire cats. They'd both quite clearly been listening in on Simon's conversation.

"So... wha' was all tha' about?"

It had been weeks since Daniel lost Sunnie on base when he finally decided to man up and call you.

You'd made it clear to him that he wasn't going to see her without supervision for a while, especially not on the army base. Not that he'd seemed at all bothered by that; he didn't seem fussed at all. In fact, he'd made no effort to reach out and apologise, nor to check up on Sunnie and see if there'd been any lasting effects on her.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said as soon as the call connected. It was the same soothing, placating tone that he used to use when he wanted something from you. Recognising it set you on edge.

"What do you want, Daniel?" you replied coolly, immediately cutting through the bullshit. The sooner he got to the point, the sooner you could get on with your night.

"I was wondering... could you come to base with Sunnie this weekend?"

You glanced across to your right. Sunnie was curled up into your side on the sofa, a rerun of old Friends episodes playing on the TV as background noise. You'd been reading a book, now left forgotten, pages-down on the arm of the sofa in favour of scrolling through Tiktok on your phone.

Thankfully, your daughter had been okay since her adventure in the army barracks. In fact, she seemed to have almost forgotten about it, apart from talking incessantly about her new friend - Simon. She'd even started telling the other kids in her reception class about how Mr Rabbit was on holiday with the "big army man", as she called him.

But, most importantly, she didn't even seem aware that she'd gone missing for any period of time that day.

You exhaled a deep sigh. "Yes. But she's not staying there overnight."

"Okay, that's fine." There was a pause, and you could hear Daniel tapping his foot against something on the other end of the line. "Did you, uh... did you know that Ghost has been asking after you?"

Your brow furrowed. Who the fuck was Ghost?

"Who?"

"The 141 guy who found Sunnie," he grumbled, getting audibly pissy. "He kept asking me when you'd be back on base. Wants to give some stupid stuffed toy back to my daughter."

Anger seethed in your chest. The hand that wasn't holding your phone clenched into a fist at your side. Burning hot rage lanced through you, soothed only by running your fingers through Sunnie's hair. She stirred softly, reaching out a tiny hand to grab your leg - as though she were making sure that you were still there.

In her other hand, she clutched a rose-pink stuffed dragon - the ears, wings, and spines along its back glittering softly in the light of the living room lamp. Her chosen replacement in Mr Rabbit's absence.

Your heart ached as you watched her. That was another reason why you dreaded Sunnie having overnights with her father; his attitude towards childhood in general.

His parents had never let him have a proper one of his own - that much had been evident from the day you'd met them. Despite all of the reassurances that he'd given you when you'd gotten pregnant - placations of being better, of reading up on soft-parenting techniques and the like - he'd done nothing but mirror his parents' shitty attitudes since the day Sunnie was born.

He didn't believe in giving her toys that weren't educational ones, or letting her babble; constantly snapping at her to speak properly, even though she rarely babbled unless she was excited or tired. It had been one of the many reasons why you'd split up. Though there hadn't been a shortage of those.

"Daniel, I will say this one last time: our four-year-old daughter's toys aren't stupid," you said through gritted teeth.

He muttered something under his breath, clearly in the mood to argue. Before you could ask him to repeat himself, he said, "Oh, I see how it is. Any excuse to get back at me, huh? Think you'll get there by fucking the Lt? Go ahead - he won't go for it."

You blinked, stunned. Where the fuck did that come from?

"The guy's a fucking sadist," Daniel spat, saying your name to emphasise his point before jumping straight back into his unsolicited rant. "Don't want your or my daughter anywhere near him. I mean it. I won't stand for it."

Instead of dignifying any of what he'd just said with a response, you hung up. That was one bonus of being separated - you didn't have to listen to his rambling bullshit anymore. By the time you'd carried Sunnie to her room down the hallway, changed her into her favourite PJs and settled her into bed, you'd missed five calls from Daniel.

Padding back into the living room, you sat back down in your spot and closed your book. Not in the mood to fight with him, you opened up your messaging app.

You: Daniel, leave me alone. You: I don't want to talk to you right now.

Not even a minute later, your phone pinged with a reply.

Your fingers itched to open the app and have a look but, instead, you rolled your eyes and slid it across to the far side of the sofa. Whatever he had to say could wait for the weekend.

"Sunnie, come on!" you yelled, standing at the foot of the stairs with your hands braced on your hips.

Several loud thuds on the ceiling marked Sunnie's path upstairs as she bolted across her playroom.

"Sunnie! Hurry up or I'll leave without you!"

And that kicked her into action.

Within a matter of moments, Sunnie was bounding down the stairs - wearing her favourite dress with little bees stitched into the fabric, and a pair of bright pink trainers. She looked adorable, dead-set on looking good for what she deemed to be a playdate with her newest friend.

It had been all she'd talked about since you told her the other morning.

It had been Simon this, Simon that ever since.

Before long, she was strapped up into her car seat, ready for the journey to the base. Her chosen stuffed toy of the day - Mr Rabbit's mint green twin - was clutched in one little fist as she sat in the back, babbling away to herself. You couldn't help but smile; egged on by her excitement.

You weren't too proud to admit to yourself that you'd been more than a little excited to go to base too.

You'd been thinking about the tall, muscular giant of a man who'd found your daughter more and more recently - especially when you were alone at night. You found yourself drawn to the memory of that deep, baritone voice, those bright hazel eyes, and his odd choice to hide behind a balaclava; something that you could only assume was a safety or privacy thing. The taskforce was meant to be top-secret - perhaps that was how he maintained his anonymity.

Or maybe it was something else entirely.

"Mummyyyyyy," Sunnie's drawn-out whine came about fifteen minutes from the entrance gate.

You rolled your shoulders back, glancing up at the rearview mirror to check that she was okay. Content that she was fine, you flashed her a smile. "You okay, baby?"

She nodded and you quickly turned your focus back to the road. "Mummy, Simon said he looks funny."

You hummed softly under your breath.

"Did he, princess?" you asked absentmindedly.

A frown formed on your lips. Sunnie always had very big emotions. She felt everything; hid nothing. All of her emotions were worn on her face as and when she felt them and - while it made her an open book - it also meant that sometimes things ate at her. Like watching you and her dad argue, or when another child in her class felt upset about something.

She was the most caring, sweetest soul you'd ever known, and you were proud to call her your daughter.

"Maybe... maybe he just needs to be reminded that he'd beautiful," you suggested softly, not wanting to upset her any further. That maybe he'd never been made to feel pretty before, as a gruff, giant soldier.

You glanced in the mirror to watch Sunnie's face light up, her smile luminous. "Okay, mummy."

And that made you smile too.

"Ghost, you've got someone here to see you!" Price's gruff voice announced from the other side of his locked door.

Simon startled.

He was standing shirtless in front of his bathroom mirror, mask chucked on the side of the sink as he examined the healing bullet wound in his shoulder. He'd started going to the gym for morning training sessions with the boys again, and he'd managed to strain it a little. Nothing serious - the stitches had held - but the skin around the entry wound was a little red and tender to touch.

"Uh... coming!" he yelled back.

As quickly as he could with his injured arm, he tugged his black t-shirt back on and pulled his balaclava down over his head. Leaving the bathroom, he made a beeline for the door, stopping only to grab Mr Rabbit from his perch on the desk.

Simon undid the lock, swinging the door open to be greeted by...

A small, compact weight hurled itself at his knees, almost taking his legs out from under him.

"Sunnie!" a soft, feminine voice said admonishingly. He didn't even have to look to know that it belonged to you.

With a deep, throaty chuckle, Simon lowered himself down to his knees and pulled Sunnie in for a slightly awkward, one-armed hug on his good side. To his delight, she wrapped her arms around his waist and tightened her grip as much as her little body could manage.

"Mister Simon!" she squeaked.

"Hello again, princess," he said, running a fingernail along the seam of the stuffed rabbit's ear with his free hand. When she finally pulled away, he handed the toy back to the little girl. "I think this belongs to you."

Sunnie squealed with glee, pulling the sunshine-yellow rabbit into her arms for another bone-crushing hug.

"Hey, darling," Price said, his voice reminding Simon that there were, in fact, other people in the hallway around them. A gaggle of new recruits were staring at them, wide-eyed and awestruck, watching the feared Ghost interact so wholesomely with a small child. Price's eyes were focused on said child as he held out a scar-flecked hand. "How about we go and find you some ice cream?"

John looked to you for approval and you nodded, smiling kindly.

Dropping down to press a kiss to Sunnie's forehead, you told her to behave herself for the captain then watched as he led her off in the direction of the rec room. Only when they'd left your sight, did you finally turn your attention to Simon.

He could've sworn that his heart stopped beating in his chest as you fixed him with your warm gaze, lips curving up into the most beautiful, genuine smile he'd ever seen. The feeling didn't ease as your rose back up to your full height - still comically small beside him - and extended a hand for him to shake. He took it, wincing slightly at the feeling of his callouses scraping against your baby-soft skin.

"Hey, Simon," you said, still having yet to break eye contact. "It's nice to see you again."

He released your hand, easing back a half-step. He didn't know what to do; what to say now that you were right in front of him. He just stood awkwardly, trying not to stare at your mouth as he grumbled, "Nice to see you too. I, uh... I didn't know you'd be coming to see me."

His throat worked as he swallowed, the scent of your perfume lingering pleasantly in the air. It was nerves - honest to God nerves - that he was feeling.

Pitiful. Weak. Pathetic...

"I wanted to properly thank you for what you did last month," you explained.

Everything in your expression was open. He wondered if you knew just how similar you were to your daughter in that regard.

"We didn't get much chance to talk last time, and Sunnie talks very highly of you," you continued, a mischievous sparkle in your eyes. "You might be on your way to becoming her favourite person."

Simon could feel himself blushing under the mask. "Well... that's a first."

You chuckled. "Befriending a lost little girl who's wise beyond her years?"

He shook his head. "Being someone's favourite."

He'd meant it in a self-depreciating jokey kind of way, but the look on your face made him regret it. You looked fucking horrified.

"I- sorry. Didn't mean to make it depressing," he said with a grimace.

A long moment passed before you shook your head, that beautiful smile gracing your lips once again. Looping an arm through his uninjured one, you nudged him in the ribs.

"I think we should go and find somewhere in this place that does some decent coffee," you said cheerfully. "Something tells me we've both got a lot of stories to tell before Price brings Sunnie back for her playdate."

Preening at the sight of you so close to him, Simon grinned under the mask - the mention of this playdate completely sailing past his comprehension. "Sounds like a plan, sweetheart."

a/n: I'm a simple woman with simple tastes: I just want to see Simon in a tiara, playing tea parties with Sunnie :) Maybe I might make that happen in part 3... - lapetitelapin :)

[incorrect-fnaf-quotes]

Pittrap/pitbon x reader headcanons?

Normally, I wouldn’t do any Frights characters, but: I love ITP, I love Spring Bonnie, and the game was great—so, enjoy this :)

-

🐰|Where you lived... well, it was quite boring. Lots of stuff had closed. One of those things would change.|🎾🕳

🐰|You always found yourself going to Jeff’s Pizza—whether you were craving pizza, or the fact that it was somewhere to go—other than your job.|🎾🕳

🐰|As you were eating, you just found yourself wandering through the building in the process.|🎾🕳

—

With your free hand—although, it was still greasy, you opened up the door. You’d never been in this area of the place before.

...But then again, until now, you’d never just left your table to go look around. You figured Jeff wouldn’t mind, though.

Once the door was opened, you looked around, taking a few more bites from your slice of pizza in the process. You stepped inside.

To your right, there was an old ballpit—it seemed rather dusty. You would’ve ignored it, you would have left the room—there was nothing else.

Except...

As you’d started to turn, balls began spilling from the old ballpit, rolling around on the floor, as... something yellow began to emerge.

You couldn’t tell what it was—until the rest started coming out. A large, yellow head surfaced next—albeit rather slowly. Long ears were attached.

Then, yellow paws grabbed at the edge of the ballpit, and the thing began pulling itself out—revealing the rest of the thing’s body. It wore a yellow bow tie.

Dropping your pizza, you stared with widened eyes, and quickly started to back away.

The thing—which seemed to be a rabbit, must have heard you—the ears atop the head twitched, and then the rabbit’s whole head turned.

The rabbit was staring right at you.

—

🐰|You’d initially left in a panic—with the rabbit choosing to follow. You figured you could go to Jeff for help... somehow?|🎾🕳

🐰|Although, to your surprise, Jeff seems pretty chill about the rabbit—including the other customers that are near.|🎾🕳

🐰|Your surprise just quickly fades into confusion when, apparently, he and the others seem to see an actual person instead.|🎾🕳

🐰|Although you leave right after that, you come back the next day—just wanting to take a pizza to go. Except... the rabbit is waiting.|🎾🕳

🐰|You worry about what might be done—except, even more to your confusion, the rabbit just... waves, smiles, and gives you a hug.|🎾🕳

—

The longer you stared at the rabbit, the quicker a realization came to you. The rabbit had to be from one of the Freddy’s locations.

You’d never been to Fredbear’s Family Diner—it had closed a long time ago. But that didn’t mean that you hadn’t seen anything for it.

There was the bear... Fredbear, of course—and then a bunny accompanying him: Spring Bonnie. That was the name, wasn’t it?

The rabbit beside you, as the two of you approached the ballpit room, looked like the rabbit from back then. Yet... something seemed off.

Entering the room, you sighed, and backed away from the rabbit. “You were just... in that thing?” You gestured to the ballpit.

The rabbit nodded.

“How has nobody seen you before?? Why did Jeff see somebody else yesterday?”

The animatronic just stared.

“Why are you being so friendly?” Although... it was certainly something you were glad about, it the end.

The rabbit still stared.

“Do... you want to hurt me?”

The rabbit’s head shook—‘no’.

—

🐰|For awhile, you really aren’t sure what to think about this—but, you find yourself continuing to go back, and visit.|🎾🕳

🐰|Instead of ‘Spring Bonnie’, considering where he came from, you suggest the name ‘Pitbonnie’.|🎾🕳

🐰|The rabbit seems to like the name, and it just sticks. Although, sometimes, you use ‘Pittrap’ as well.|🎾🕳

🐰|Pitbonnie tends to bite you—but he means no harm. It’s more of an affectionate gesture. And to your surprise... with all of those teeth, some sharp, you’ve never been hurt.|🎾🕳

🐰|It seems that the rabbit can get upset pretty easily—but it’s pretty easy for you to calm Pitbonnie down.|🎾🕳

🐰|He tends to brings you gifts—gifts coming from the other side of the ballpit, back at Freddy’s.|🎾🕳

🐰|Because of this, you just... find yourself having a lot of plushies. It’s not something you’re complaining about, though.|🎾🕳

🐰|You swear you’ve seen something in the suit, but you’re not sure what—Pittrap hasn’t really shown you.|🎾🕳

🐰|Fuzzy. Soft. The rabbit’s suit is nice. You figured this out the first time Pittrap hugged you. You very much enjoy his hugs.|🎾🕳

🐰|You once saw him interact with a kid—although you weren’t sure what the kid saw. You learned that the rabbit could be fatherly, though.|🎾🕳

🐰|You’ve seen Pitbonnie go and disappear through the ballpit, and you wonder a lot—while also tempted to follow.|🎾🕳

🐰|You haven’t done so yet, but maybe one of these days.|🎾🕳

—

As you made it outside of Jeff’s—just a single step or two out, you paused at the sound of heavy footsteps.

Turning around, you were greeted by Pittrap, holding open the door, and staring towards you.

The rabbit had always said goodbye to you when you would leave—but he’d always remained inside of the building.

Pitbonnie’s ears were lowered, and it looked as if he was trying to shape his mouth into the best frown possible—but it was still stuck in a grin.

“What... what is it?” You questioned.

The rabbit shifted around a little bit, still staying relatively focused on you... but also beyond you.

“You want to come with me?” At your question, the rabbit nodded.

You held out a hand.

—

🐰|The way to your place was... surprising—you were tired, and apparently, the rabbit could drive. Who taught him?|🎾🕳

🐰|The moment the two of you are at your house, he just heads for your bed. You don’t mind.|🎾🕳

🐰|The whole thing was already strange... an animatronic rabbit coming out of a ballpit, and you bonding with said rabbit. But now, the rabbit is staying with you?|🎾🕳

🐰|The rabbit will begin helping you out with chores around the house—which you appreciate.|🎾🕳

🐰|You have no idea what’ll happen next, or how this’ll turn out... but it’s fine. You like this. You were glad to go into that room.|🎾🕳

[darlingpwease]

It was me! I kidnapped Yuuta, fucked him full, and tied him up! he's not leaving till I get him pregnant >:3c

⌞ 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐄 ⌝

you were sure that someone as perfect as he was was given to you by fate — and you couldn't afford to miss him, even if someone found your methods... "radical".

CONTENT WARNINGS: unhealthy behaviour (kidnapping), established relationship [?], power imbalance, pet names, begging + drooling + crying, heavy talk about pregnancy & family-making, mind break [yuuta]

dubious consent (dubcon), somnophilia, sex marathon, heavy petting, unprotected sex / heavy breeding, dirty talk + possessive talk, belly bulge + deep penetration (cervix fucking), treatment (biting, mild choking g.), praise (g., r.), multiple orgasms (g.), hyperstimulation (g.), bondage (g., tied hands), forced orgasms (g.), fingering (g.), cum inflation (g.), mild degradation (g.), worshipping (r.)

WRITING STYLE: drabble (interlude + main chapter), ±3000 words; referencing yuuta's genitals as a 'hole', 'labia' / 'lips', 'womb', 'juice' / 'cum'

DARLINGS: yuuta okkotsu x reader; dom!reader, top!reader, dark!reader, dark!yuuta okkotsu

note: meanie,,, meanie!!! bring malewife back!!!!!</3333

Even despite power and usefulness, even despite tender maturity and loving gentleness, even despite external coldness and 'coolness' — Yuuta was still the same shy, timid sweetheart, looking at you with adoring doe eyes, catching your every glance, willingly following you anywhere, but blushing when you expose "too much" skin, especially if you touch him, forcing him to hide in a corner just to not look quite pathetically desperate. It doesn't matter how long you've been together, but it always seemed as if he would never be able to take you calmly, even if you one day start dating like normal persons, instead of awkward courtship and emotionally affecting games in which there are never winners, even if his sad puppy-dog eyes always make you wonder when is the right moment to ask him.

You didn't consider yourself particularly timid, especially when he tried so hard to show the green light, practically jumping into your hands, breathlessly offering you beautiful things as some kind of gifts to the deity, following you like your shadow, trying to snuggle up to you and asking if you have a type with a face so hot that you were worried for the first time, was there still embarrassment or is it already a fever; damn it, Yuuta gets up early in the morning to cook food for you, always brings you drinks, shivers slightly when touches your skin and always insists on using reverse technique so that you are safe and he knows that everything is fine with you; he calls you to ask you to meet him at the airport, makes sure that it is a convenient time for you during calls, regularly writes to you and sends photos, remembers all possible and impossible things about you, including the most insignificant, but whenever it seemed to you that now, it's time, the right time has come,

Yuuta ran away.

Sometimes metaphorically, sometimes literally, if you were too intimate and aware of this intimacy, letting him know what you want to talk about when press him into a corner, no longer reacting to his unconscious attempts to become even smaller than you — he immediately tries to hide, like a rabbit in front of a fox, regardless of whether it was really a "corner for negotiations" or a gentle purr about the need to discuss something important. If you were a little less knowledgeable, you'd think he's just not interested in relationships, but whenever Yuuta mentions his type (whose description surprisingly resembles you), or that he thought about starting a family "with someone strong enough and ready for such a step", or that he 'would like to stay with you forever if it means that you will never be apart', — you can't get rid of the obsessive feeling that he is trying to say something by playing hot-and-cold, but you might as well have turned to Gojo for love advice to understand why your beloved behaves like a clingy puppy to immediately start avoiding and hiding when you try to check.

Because, you are sure, one eccentric man definitely understands an equally eccentric guy who will eat from your hands and let you do whatever you want with him, following you into fire and water, allowing you to manage him and his fate on your own, but once you offer him a confession — and he is no longer here, as if you were a leper or crazy, seeing something shameful dirty in these innocent things. It will be wrong if he gets naked in front of you or sees your underwear, but if it's others, then it's absolutely fine; hey, if someone needs help, he will always help, he likes to help and be helpful, even if it's something creepy and strange like "please, let's exchange festival t-shirts, I like your... design... more," because Yuuta doesn't care about such details and he's 'not so shy to worry about his half-naked body' — as long as you're not looking, of course.

If someone bothers you, they should be driven away or scared away, but don't get him wrong, there's nothing strange about that — people can't be completely trusted, they want to scare you or take you away, but Yuuta won't let them, keeping you as the most precious thing he has, like a dragon pining over gold, and if he's not careful, someone will steal you, or even kidnap.

... He is being dramatic? He's not, he's not dramatic, and he's not possessive, and he's not fixated, and he's not weird, and he's not creepy, and he's absolutely not crazy about you at all — this is, this is security, and even if you're strong, even if you're potentially stronger than him, you have to be safe and hidden, do you understand? Next to him, letting him wrap around your arm, seeing everyone who is trying to get close to you, knowing that only he will always stay by your side while others will come and go. You're his, and he's yours, — but it's, it's not weird, and it's not wrong, and he's, he's keeping himself under control, do you see? He is safe, he is normal, he is absolutely adequate and he will be anyone, if that means he will be with you, no matter what he wants, pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease

DON'TLEAVEHIM

He's going to be a good boy.

The best boy.

The most obedient, gentle, harmless, innocent, weak, affectionate, patient, quiet, unpretentious,

the goodest boy.

He won't be demanding, he won't be stupid, he won't be needy or clingy, he will be the one you dreamed of, anyone you dreamed of, and will do whatever you want; maybe, maybe Rika taught him a thing or two, and maybe he himself has learned more a few, but he will be the very very very most most most most most

Your touches are like a burning flame,

almost illuminating everything in the semi-darkness of the room,

even when they are so weightless, almost sliding over his fabric while you hide face in his shoulder, thoughtfully stroking him, as if not paying attention to his ruddy face, which quickly becomes nervous from the realization that you are too thoughtful today. It's not that you've never been thoughtful, but you've never been so absorbed, as if trying to make a choice while playing with the clothes, easing the internal tension. For a moment he wants to ask if he is the cause of your current mood, but instead he starts breathing shorter so as not to disturb you, feeling breath on his neck, but not understanding whether he should stop you or watch where it leads, even if your fingers slide to the button — but makes a decision when covers it with palm when your fingers touch.

Yuuta can't help but tense up, feeling that the atmosphere is becoming more oppressive, but when you take your hand away, he hurriedly presses it back, looking at you with a complex expression, not letting you unbutton it, but also preventing you from leaving, feeling an unpleasant disgusting tangle in heart. It's not like he's playing with you, right? He's sincere, he wouldn't mind you unbuttoning his jacket and everything right now, but you, well, you can't. Not now. Not in the near future. He needs to deal with, uh, this first, and... only then you can do whatever you want.

You could hug after that, or even kiss, if you let him; maybe you would stop at holding hands, not wanting to move on, or, well, let him sleep with you not only "just in the same bed", but also sleep like not sleeping, but awake all night night, being alone and not turning on the light. Maybe you would like to call this relationship something like "dating", or "engagement", or "friends with benefits", or "marriage". Maybe you would like to live together and put things together like some kind of... family.

Maybe.

“Ah?! I— I don't— I don't know... I mean— I don't have anyone right now who would be willing to start a family with me, but if someone wanted to, then I would.”

“Pregnancy and children is a little... too much, and I do not know if I can be a parent, but if anything, then I... would like a baby if my spouse wanted to.”

“I am, I am ready to become a good parent — I can become a good parent, and for the sake of our child I will be as good as possible!.. "Our child", I mean, mine and my spouse's... yes... Just so it doesn't sound weird... Not in the sense that the thought of 'our child" sounded wrong, just... Oh.”

“No, no, it's okay, I trust you! You always do everything just for me; I know you care about me. I care about you too, I would like to always help you and be there for you if that's what you would like too.”

“Even if you give me poison, as long as it's from your hands, I'll willingly eat it...”

“... mhm...”

Yuuta is soft, sweet — both outside and inside; especially when his face is so rosy, with trembling eyelashes, breathing heavily when your hands touch his delicate skin, shaking even from the feeling of your breath on it; even if he is almost always cold, freezing, needing a lot of clothes so that his thin long fingers are not comparable to ice, inside he is hot and wet, so sticky that you are not sure that you can pull fingers out of him when gently push them, letting the juice leak due to the incessant trembling from another orgasm. His clit throbs as you continue to rub it, stretching his tight hole, taking care that the juice and lube inside make him perfect for later — you haven't even started yet, this is just preparation, even if you feel like you're starting to go crazy, wanting to fuck his slutty needy hole and stuff it so that his stomach will become full with you, impregnated by you, until the only thing Yuuta can think about is you and how soon you will make him bred again.

His body is beautiful, delicious, perfect, with wet soft thighs, on which red lines appear when you squeeze them, and the pretty gentle face, so serene that you can't help but want to kiss him — especially when he whines softly, as if restraining himself, while you touch, rub, squeeze, intoxicated realizing that if Yuuta were conscious, he would blush even more, looking with shiny wet eyes at how you push fingers into his greedy hole, forcing it to make even more squelching sounds, so loud that even his breathing and moans when you touch his clit, so red and swollen from hyperstimulation, cannot drown them out. Inside, Yuuta is slippery, wet, so hot and so messy that you probably didn't even need lube when his juice flows through your fingers again, mixed with his cum, flowing out again and again to ease your thrusts, needing to squeeze everything out of you and make sure you cum right in his womb, stuffing and filling to the brim when his body is ready for breeding.

His ovulation is in three days, — not so long to wait, — but you know that even so, if you cum inside today, filling up until your cum starts to flow out of him just from the fact that you lightly press on his soft belly, then Yuuta will surely get pregnant with you, with your baby, who will mature in his needy womb. The higher the amount of cursed energy in the body, the lower the fertility, especially for sorcerers, especially for the likes of you and him, but you have more than enough time to make sure that sooner or later Yuuta will become the parent of your baby, even if you have to fuck him every day and night until his body becomes addicted from you, whining loudly like an animal in need every time you thrust into his pliable hole, drooling while you bite his skin, arching backs so that it's easier to hold on to his hips, longing only for you to fuck him senseless, no matter whether you make him throw his legs over your shoulders, put him on all fours, let him lean on a tree — it doesn't matter as long as he is full of you as deeply as ever.

When Yuuta pulsates again on your fingers, squeezing, pushing his thighs apart to take deeper, letting the juice flow even faster down your palm and thick labia, you know that he has cummed again, but you don't stop, continuing to stroke his trembling hypersensitive body, ignoring even the way he whimpers, as if he is about to finally wake up and look at all the mess he has made, seeing how many times he shamelessly cummed on fingers while you were playing with him, treating his body like your toy, tying his hands tightly enough to easily be able to bend him into a mating press or make him to ride you, easily serving you to the wet sounds of his leaking juice, soaked his thighs and labia, taking you all the way, — and understanding what you will do next when you leave hands on his hips, not letting him get out,

as if he would let you.

Yuuta has never felt so painful, so wet, so stretched and so hot when his body is so painfully empty, even though Yuuta feels himself being gently squeezed — but this caress only makes eyes water from too many sensations, drooling from itchy emptiness and being crushed by sensations, not understanding what is happening to him besides how painfully sensitive his clit is, that even careful rubbing makes him whine, wanting to pull knees to his chest if his thighs weren't so soft and trembling, being able to only awkwardly squeeze someone's body between in an attempt to stop them, but even when his glazed eyes look at you, you can't help but feel elated, knowing what will happen next, unlike him, vaguely whining something because of confused mind, realizing that you are in front of him, but being unable to understand what is happening; even when his legs are on your shoulders, while Yuuta feels even more empty inside, feeling his hole throbbing with the need to continue, and the fact that this need only further clouds his mind, vaguely realizing that you want to 'do something' and no longer trying to stop, only warms you up more.

His eyes are wet, shiny when you reach for a kiss, squeezing his thighs with hands, gently asking if he is ready for you, you are about to breed him, and you want him to watch this; after all, this is your first time, even if you definitely spend a lot of time together in the future, especially if his womb is reluctant, — and Yuuta only looks at you with glassy eyes, breathing heavily, definitely realizing what is happening and why he is in such a position, but being unsure whether he should say "stop" or let you fill his hole prepared by you, letting you make your baby inside of him, which will bind you to each other forever,

just like he wanted,

because of which you will have no choice but to choose him and stay with him, having more and more children, making him your husband and part of your family,

AS YOU ARE OBLIGED TO

you chose that, right?

you have to take him with you and make him yours

just like you are hugging him in your arms now, hearing hot breath, feeling how his hole is about to take you inside and up to the womb, which you have to fill until the calendar on phone informs you that 'period delay is too long', his pregnancy has surely come while he is whining from another orgasm.

“I'm, of course I'm ready!.. I— I want your baby; I need you to do... it... inside. In my... w-womb and, like, in my... in me — until I'm yours.”

The velvet walls of Yuuta envelop you when you fill with one push, ignoring how he almost suffocates, instantly feeling so full that his not yet restored mind is crushed again, obeying the need to be fucked until his hole starts to hurt, even if it means losing consciousness from how sensitive his swollen clit is, responsive even to light contact with your skin, which is why he squeezes you tighter, wanting to force you to stay inside and move at the same time until he begins to suffocate from the intensity, hiding his head in your shoulder or in a pillow — it doesn't matter as long as you fuck him without a break, encouraging to humiliatingly cum even if Yuuta doesn't want to anymore, but can't fight with himself, crying with sick delight, forcing him to squirm under you and awkwardly move hips towards you.

Your second push is rougher, deeper, to such an extent that he can feel his stomach filling up with you, even if his uterus seemed too far away before — he can't help but realize with unhealthy delight that you can certainly reach it and rest against it, especially if he tries to throw his knees just a little higher on your shoulders, helping in breeding only by the fact that his soft pliable hole will give you more delicious friction, making you want to get as deep as possible into his slutty hole and cum, as if if you don't do it, then you will die, being unable to even make him scream from fucking senseless, until he's only able to keep his mouth open to grab air. His face is wet, hot, red, looking at you with delight, trying to kiss with whimpering, then at how you drive into him with a squelching sound, breeding his hole, squeezing only so that you stretch him again, ignoring even his inarticulate pleas for 'more' and 'deeper', 'cum inside', 'make me a baby'.

When Yuuta can't do it anymore, rolling eyes pitifully, feeling how his body, exhausted due to orgasms, can only greedily obediently accept everything you give, letting you do whatever you want — squeezing and biting, kissing, licking while he is vaguely realize that you are already close, ready to stuff womb, kneading his hot sensitive body, reacting even when everything before his eyes is floating, being unable to cling to anything other than the thought that you are about to cum inside, perhaps to the point that everything will flow out of him, considering how tight and easily squeezing he is, as soon as you leave his hole for a while, making him feel lonely, whining until you continue; teasing him, pushing the tip only to hear his whimpering and complaints mixed with pleas, enthusiastically shouting your name and how good he is, how good you are, how his whole body feels great while you hold him so close, needy kissing to drown out the flow of praise and adoration, soon becoming many times more intense and unstable with pleas to leave him filled with you forever, never make him be lonely and empty, he can't live without what you gave him today, he can't live without you, please please please please,

“Please please please please please please—”

make him think only about you,

which are interrupted when Yuuta becomes hoarse in his voice, enthusiastically realizing that you are cumming inside him, hugging tightly to you, so warmly and intimately, so close that his heart can't help but flutter, feeling your smell and the way your heart beats while his womb is gradually filling up, more and more, until everything it doesn't start to flow out of him — just so that you don't stop kissing him, ignoring even whiny sighs about when his skin is soaked with your cum.

... When you carefully slip out, Yuuta is almost close to a disappointed moan, if there were at least a little strength in his body, but he can only relax like a rag doll, letting you snuggle as you feel comfortable, carefully pushing the leaking sperm inside — and almost immediately pushing inside stretched hole, taking care of so that nothing leaks out until you wake up to breed him again, wetly kissing his hot face; Yuuta tries to respond in kind, but instead his body responds with sweet pain, which he first wants to cure, but then allows himself to relax, letting you instead hug and hold tightly to you, whispering how good Yuuta is, so obedient, it won't take long to make him pregnant, and these the words respond with warmth in his chest, hearing that you really plan to create a family with him, even if he is like that.

But one more kiss makes him forget about it, vaguely realizing that his hands are still tied — not that it would be a problem for him to untie them,

but instead he obeys, settling comfortably for sleep when your arms are wrapped around his waist. After all, he can always talk to you about it later; after all,

you now have all the time in the world.

[wri0thesley]

the perfect date - mahito x reader (3.8k)

there are a couple of drawbacks to being with a curse, romantically speaking. mahito, though, would like to remind you . . . there are also some benefits.

cw: not sfw. reader is afab, but no gendered pronouns are used. mahito's transformative powers are used (tongue, shifting genital size). oral (reader receiving), edging. the softest mahito i can possibly write, but there's still . . . an edge to him! pet names including 'cutie' and 'darling'.

this was a commissioned work.

Nights like this, you can almost forget that what you and Mahito have isn’t normal.

Mahito sits beside you on your sofa, his body curled about you like a cat. Arms wrapped about your waist, head lolling against your shoulder, so close that you can see every stitch that decorates his body, smell his peculiar springtime-and-sweet-rot scent every time you breathe in. It is not an entirely unpleasant scent - and it’s one that you relax into, that makes you feel like you’re at home. 

The television is blaring some choice of movie that Mahito had picked out from your collection - he’s always fascinated by your tastes, prodding and poking you to explain why you have this one, what do you like about it, won’t you sit and watch it with him--? 

You, of course, are helpless to resist doing anything the curse asks of you. 

Tonight’s choice is a romantic thriller. There’s some plot about a secret document and an FBI agent and star-crossed lovers on the wrong sides of a dispute; but you’ve reached your own favourite part of the movie by now. The two lovers are taking a stroll through a beachside amusement park - one of those tacky things that’s all painted striped sidings and romantic carnival games. One of the lovers wins a small stuffed animal in a shooting game booth, only for their partner to win the jackpot, a huge and luridly pastel bunny clasped between them. They share a pink cotton candy in the shape of a heart, ride a Tunnel of Love, share a kiss at the very top of a ferris wheel--

And quite against your will, quite unexpectedly, as you watch this show of romantic affection - your heart gives a sickening lurch in your chest. 

You have always wanted that, too. 

You have watched this movie plenty of times and imagined yourself on this date; fluttering your lashes demurely at the attendant at the Tunnel of Love, revelling in the fond glances of passers-by as you and your beloved take a photograph of you with the giant bear or rabbit or panda they won for you. You have daydreamed about romance and dates and showing off your beau to everyone you meet--

And though you are not lonely, for nobody who had Mahito as a paramour could ever feel that way . . . there is a soft little empty ache inside of you that reminds you that what you have is not quite the fairytale of your dreams. 

“Hey,” Mahito’s voice is pouty as he shifts against you, silken silver hair brushing your arm. He gives you a poke that just manages to avoid being painful. “You’re not paying attention. What are you thinking about?”

You start guiltily and look at him. Curious bicoloured eyes stare up at you; he doesn’t look angry. He seems more amused. Your little mortal foibles are a source of endless fascination for him. 

“I was watching the movie,” you say to him, which isn’t entirely true. And then you say; “I was thinking about going on dates.”

And that one is entirely true. 

There are problems with the romantic relationship you share with Mahito. Some of them are more obvious than others; at his very core, he is not really human, and you do not know how much he feels human emotions. He has an intense fondness and affection for you, yes - but you know, too, that he is capable of great hatred in the name of his boundless curiosity and the purposes which formed him. Whenever he tells you about his experiments, though, and you show a brief flare of disquiet . . . Mahito giggles and pokes your cheeks and bestows cool kisses all over your face, decrying passionately;

“Not you, cutie. Not ever you. You’re my favourite!”

That should bother you more, you think - and yet, as you watch this romance unfold on screen and these two actors play-act at the perfect date . . . you find that the thing that makes you ache most about being with Mahito is not what he might do, not what he has done, not even the things he tells you he’s going to do to mortals who do not have as much of his favour and adoration as you do . . . but that you will never get this brand of hokey romance. 

It’s rare enough that you have the ability to see him - if you were to take him to a funfair like this one, you would surely just look like one person wandering around, all alone. How sad you would seem on the Tunnel of Love, on a single boat with no lover to share it with - nobody would give you admiring looks or whisper behind their hands what a cute couple you and Mahito make. 

And it is not just the date. 

There will never be pictures all over your house of Mahito and you. You’re not even sure he would show up in the photographs, if you tried to take them. There will be no wedding, no holidays, no official moving in day (Mahito does live with you, but that was rather more like a cat choosing its owner, making itself at home with no formal invitation). You will never be able to introduce him to your friends and family, nor even talk about him to them, lest they want to meet him and then discover the truth of what he is (that is, if they could even see him). 

You have known all of this in the back of your mind. You’ve pushed it back watching gory horror movies and fantasy and science fiction, giving Mahito copies of your favourite books to read - but suddenly now, faced with this movie and the simplicity of ‘going on a date with somebody you care about’ . . . it has all come crashing to the forefront, and you feel an empty ache of something you will never truly have. 

“I’ll go on a date with you!” Mahito chirps it easily. Helplessly, you flutter your hands around, trying to grasp for the right words. “Mmm, I could take you to the place I used to live? Ah, or the movie theatre? We might have to try a late-night showing, but . . .”

“That’s not it,” you say, and you realise in frustration that your voice cracks. Mahito stiffens at the emotion in your voice - and then moves, getting onto his knees, gathering the long lithe limbs of his body together so that he can take your chin in his hand and force you to look at him. “I just . . . it’s all so romantic, you know? A-and we . . . we won’t get anything like that--”

His face is quizzical; eyes wide, one eyebrow cocked, mouth pursed in thought. He’s beautiful even like that - the stitches that bisect his face serving to give him a kind of inhuman beauty that makes your heart drum against your ribcage. 

“And I want to!” You continue, suddenly worried that he’ll take your frustration at the situation as frustration about him. “I want to show you off! I want to make my friends jealous and d-do all those normal couple things--”

Realisation dawns over his face. 

“Oh,” he says. And then, this time, a smile splitting his face like the cat that has gotten the cream; “Oh. Darling. Oh.”

You squirm under his gaze, your face heating up; and a familiar feeling low in your stomach and between your thighs that Mahito’s pleased purr has drawn out. 

Before you can breathe, Mahito has manoeuvred you into the exact position he wants you in - and you are laid out on your own couch with the curse atop of you, straddling your waist. One hand reaches down to cup your cheek, his thumb pressing into the soft skin there. He lowers his face until it’s so close you can see your own reflection in his eyes. 

“Cutie,” he breathes, the word full of intent. “You’re right in that I can’t give you that kind of thing . . . But don’t you think human romance can be so boring? So predictable?” He rolls the words around in his mouth, savouring them, his mouth turning up at the corners in a smile that’s almost lascivious. “Do you need me to remind you of all of the benefits of having something like me as a lover?” 

Your pulse rabbits, and you know that Mahito can surely sense how it quickens - can probably smell the way your desire has spiked in the air, can certainly see how your eyes have gone dark and wide, the way that your breath escapes your parted lips. 

He leans down and kisses you, hard; his mouth cool against yours, his teeth automatically nipping at your bottom lip. Your own mouth falls open in a silent surrender, and Mahito’s tongue greedily brushes over your own. That spot just behind your front teeth, on the roof of your mouth . . . and you realise with a start that Mahito’s tongue isn’t quite human.

He pulls back with a satisfied grin, humming low in the back of his throat - and you see a flash of that inhuman tongue he has crafted, longer and thicker than any mortal tongue has ever been. 

“What kind of things do you think I could do with this?” He asks you, letting it loll out a little. The expression should by rights look silly; but on Mahito it looks dangerous and horribly attractive all at once. You feel your cheeks go hot, your body squirm beneath him. “Aww! You’re too shy to tell me?”

He laughs, and like liquid, he slides himself off of you and onto his knees on the floor. Strong, long fingers tug at your body, moving you like a doll, until you are sitting in front of him and he is between your legs, your back against the sofa cushions. Seeing Mahito’s curious eyes peering at you from there, you know exactly what kind of thing he has in mind, and your stomach twists in pleasurable anticipation. 

“Let’s get these off of you,” he says, tugging at your clothes. “So impractical! You should just not bother with clothes when we’re alone.” 

Your bottoms and underwear slip easily from your hips and thighs - ignored and tossed aside by Mahito, who has a one-track mind when he has something he has set his sights on. And what he has currently set his sights on is what lies between your legs. He nudges his cheek against your thigh, an impatient order for you to spread - and who are you to deny him?

“Oh!” He exclaims in glee, as you shyly part them and he sees your sex, glistening wet for him. “Mmm, you’re excited for this too?” That too-big tongue is peeking out from between his lips, and as you look at it the tip changes just a little; becomes somewhat more bulbous, more like the head of a cock-- “Don’t be getting all nervous on me, now!” 

You let out a soft noise of surprise as Mahito dives between your legs with no more fanfare than that. 

Mahito does all things with enthusiasm, whether you’re prepared for them or not; and you are not prepared for the way one of your thighs is easily slung over his muscular shoulder, or the peculiar feeling of the tongue he has transfigured as it laps down your heated core in one long, quick movement. Mahito moans in pleasure at the way your thighs tense, the taste of you spilling over his lips - pauses after his lick to whisper;

“I could eat you alive, you taste so sweet--”

And then turns back to the task at hand with gleeful abandon. 

Your fingers find purchase on the edge of the sofa cushion, your other hand going almost automatically to tangle in Mahito’s silky silvery locks. He doesn’t seem to care about how they tug on his hair a bit; instead, he merely moans into your sex and redoubles his efforts. 

Messily, he laps and licks at you - that inhuman tongue covers more of your folds than should be possible, almost as if he wants to make good on the promise to eat you alive. Every so often, you feel the dangerous brush of teeth against your most sensitive parts; but Mahito doesn’t let it be any more than a hint, the slightest graze. He’s far too busy drinking you in like you’re the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. 

It’s more rigid than a human tongue should be, too; when it teases at your entrance, drawing circles around it, your hips jerk up towards it in surprise from how much it feels like a finger or something even bigger. Mahito lets out a huff of laughter, thrusts it in just a few scant centimetres - and pulls back, leaving your channel aching and tingling with desire to be filled with something for far longer than he let you.

He moves his attentions to your clit instead; toying with the bud, rolling it with his tongue, flickering the tip against the swollen little bud until you are tugging harder at his hair, whining softly, beads of sweat rolling down your forehead. He never gives quite enough pressure to let you come. Instead, the way he’s playing with you has little bubbles of arousal coursing through your veins, letting you teeter on the very edge, your climax almost almost in view--

Before he pulls back, lavishes wet kisses on your thighs instead, leaving you trembling on the edge of an orgasm that he isn’t yet ready to let you fall head-first into. 

“M-Mahito . . .” You manage to whine out, though you feel breathless and light-headed. “D-don’t tease me--” 

He stops and looks up at you from between your legs; you’re struck by how beautiful he is, even with your own slick making his mouth and chin shiny. His eyes are lit bright, lips smiling, silver hair all ruffled. There’s something inhuman in him, yes - but like this, it’s a beautiful inhumanity, like an angel. A smirk curls his mouth.

“But you’re so cute when I do!”

He ducks his head down again, his tongue back to its incessant working over of your sex. Your body thrums with tension that has not been allowed to come to a head; you whimper out your desire to be allowed more, but Mahito does not seem to care. You’re clearly just too cute to him utterly at his mercy; trembling and sweating and hoping that he’ll take a little pity on you. 

He alternates between fucking shallowly into you with his inhuman tongue (not deep enough, never deep enough), and playing with your clit. Circling it, suckling on it, treating your spread thighs like a dessert buffet to be sampled and toyed with. You want him to eat his fill. The longer he spends edging you, teasing you, not letting you come . . . The hazier you begin to feel. 

Your breath comes in short sharp little gasps, your chest heaving. You think you must be on fire. 

“M-Mahito . . . ‘hito . . .” You’re practically hiccuping out the words. Your voice is a slurred mess of a thing. “Need to . . . Please . . . ‘m sorry, you’re . . .”

His mouth separates from you. A lewd gossamer strand of your arousal clings to the corner of his mouth, connecting your sex and his lips. 

“Poor thing,” he coos. “You really need it, don’t you? You need me to give you what you want?”

He lets the question stretch in the air until you can get your tongue around the question. 

“Yes,” you manage to moan out, your voice soft and small and pathetic. “Mahito . . . please make me come--”

His teeth glint bright in the light of the living room, and then he is diligently bent between your legs again, and his lips fasten around the pearl of your clit. 

This time, he doesn’t pull back as the wave crests the shore. This time, Mahito keeps his mouth around it; keeps sucking and licking, keeps flicking the tip of his tongue over it, until the tide crashes over you and you think that you might black out from the sheer force of the pleasure finally being allowed to reach its zenith. 

You’re crackling. Floating on air. A slick gush of more of your arousal paints Mahito’s face, your toes curling, your mouth slack and wide open, as the orgasm does not so much ‘wash’ over you as it drowns you, fills every one of your senses with nothing but its inescapable warmth and comfort and rapture.

Mahito’s eyes look up at you from between your legs, drinking in the way that your satisfaction changes the taut lines of your face and body. He mouths something that you don’t hear, because of the roar of contentment that drowns out everything but the pools of heat that are supposed to be your body. 

(If you didn’t know better, you’d almost say . . . that the shape of his lips almost seemed like he murmured ‘perfect’).

He stands and you are boneless to do anything but watch him, dazed from the release he’s finally allowed you to feel. He shrugs off his shirt without a care in the world, pushing his sweatpants down - he wears no underwear, and you watch as his body moves and ripples and suddenly between his toned thighs where there once was nothing, is a cock standing hard to attention with pearly beads of precome gathering on the head.

“Not too big?” He coos at you, as he curls his hands beneath your knees and moves your position so that you’re entirely at his mercy once more, hard cock nudging between the lips of your sex. You look up at him, panting. You can’t make any noises other than a whine, canting your hips forward in a motion that is clearly meant to read ‘get on with it and fuck me’. He laughs. “Alright, cutie! We’ll see what you can take when I’m inside of you, hmm?” 

Your body is entirely willing as Mahito thrusts and his cock sinks as deep into you as it can go, his pelvis rubbing against your swollen clit as he bottoms out. He lets out a groan of satisfaction deep and low that whispers pleasurably down your spine. The position you’re in doesn’t quite let you cling to Mahito, so instead you grip the cushions and prepare to be fucked. 

Not that you have any complaints about that. 

Mahito doesn’t take his time with this, either; he immediately slides into a rhythm that, had you not been wet from the way he’d lavished you with his tongue and dreamy from your orgasm, would almost be painful. Instead, it veers on almost-too-much-but-not-quite - Mahito’s hips sliding backwards and forwards, the shaft of his cock sliding in and out with a delicious wet friction that makes goosebumps rise over your bare skin. 

You don’t realise it until you hear it, but you’re moaning with every thrust.

“Oh, you like this?” Mahito murmurs, smiling down at you. There’s a wicked glint in his eyes. “Mm . . . I think this might be better if I was a little thicker, don’t you?”

You feel the way his cock shifts inside of you - the way that the slick tunnel of your sex constricts around the thing inside of it, thicker than it was before, bigger. You can hear your heart beating in your ears. It’s even too much for Mahito - his pace stutters, his eyes rolling back into his head and a guttural groan of pleasure falling from his lips. 

“I--I wouldn’t need to make you tighter,” he says, his voice dreamy. “You fit like a glove--”

You lose sense of time for a while after that. 

There is only the sensation of Mahito inside of you, your heart beating in your chest, Mahito’s breath and yours intermingling. The way that his cock flexes inside of you, expanding by the tiniest of increments until you feel so full you could burst, deeper and wider and more than you’ve ever taken before. Mahito whispers soft praise to you, telling you how good you feel, how well you’re taking him . . .

And making you shudder and shake, filling you up, rubbing himself against you. You moan and whine and pant and thrust your hips - skin slapping against skin, the hot tight knot of pleasure inside of you threatening to unravel with every slight movement. 

“You’re going to come again for me,” Mahito says to you, when you feel stretched to the very limit - when he is barely fucking into you any more, because he’s filled you up so well that the pleasure comes from the feel of him and not from the movement. “Aren’t you? Aren’t you?” A hand drops your knee; slips between your legs to roughly draw jagged circles over your clit.

Your moan seems to hover in the air, a shimmering moment - this one final movement is too much. You see stars as the knot breaks and heat flows through your body like the blood in your veins, your fingers and toes tingling, your sex pulsing about Mahito’s cock.

It’s too much for him too. With a cry of your name, Mahito’s hips stutter once, twice, and then the cock inside of you pulses in tandem with your body and you feel something thick and cool coat your insides, ropes of Mahito’s release claiming your body as his (as if he needed to)--

While you’re still half-delirious with the aftershocks of your release, he changes his cock just enough to slide out of you. His come and your own wetness have probably left a stain on the sofa, but you cannot bring yourself to care right there and then.

And neither can he.

Mahito sighs in pleasure, collapsing on top of you in a way that somehow manages to be elegant. Your breath comes in soft pants, between your thighs still aching a little from the way Mahito had played with size and shape inside of you, stretching you out. He’s like a cat once more with the way he immediately makes your hapless body his home, curling his head upon your shoulders and his arms around you, slotting himself into your lap. 

“Don’t you think that’s so much more pleasurable than anything a normal lover could do?” He asks you, a little smug. He nuzzles his face against you affectionately, always tactile, always wanting to touch you, always fascinated and adoring. 

“. . . Yes,” you admit to him, breathlessly. Your throat still feels a touch dry from the pleasured noises that Mahito had wrung from you. “You’re better than any human could ever be.”

Mahito laughs wild and bright, his eyes flashing in the light. He reaches up and pulls you into another messy kiss; hand wrapping around the back of your neck, tongues and teeth clashing, claiming ownership of you and giving you parts of himself in one fell swoop. 

“You’re better than any other human will ever be,” he tells you, perfectly sincerely. “The only one I could ever - will ever - want. And I want you forever.” 

You do not know if Mahito is really capable of love, in the way that you love him. A creature made from human’s hatred will perhaps never know love in that sense of the word. But for Mahito--

That is simply how he would say ‘I love you’, in his own peculiar way. 

[willtheweaver]

A writer’s guide to forests: traveling through the woods

Getting from point A to point B is something that both people in real life and the characters of your story will have to figure out. Whether as a means to get to a plot point, or as a part of the plot itself, travel presents opportunities for the writer.

Hack ‘n slash- Where paths are nonexistent, your characters will literally have to blaze a trail (the ‘blaze’ in this case has nothing to do with fire. Instead it is a trail marker made by carving a mark into a tree. The mark resembles the white patch seen on the forehead of mammals, most often horses.) Being the pioneer is slow going, especially if the undergrowth is thick and requires clearing. Cut bamboo can go through the foot, poison oak and poison ivy can give a nasty rash, and biting insects can make life miserable. And then there is the matter of marking the trail. A character on the run will not want to advertise their location and will do their best to keep their trail hidden. But for others, they will want to mark the trail. Stone cairns, arrows, blaze marks in trees, and even sticks and knotted grass can point out the path to other travelers. This can be helpful to others, but it can also present a danger. Thieves and outlaws can create false trails that lead travelers into a trap or ambush.

Game trails- Animals have their habits. They like to take the same path between places. Over time these develop into trails that crisscross the forest floor. For a character on the run, or those who needs to make haste, these are a tempting choice to follow. But be careful. Some animals are able to traverse terrain too difficult for humans (narrow ledges, near vertical faces, and the gaps underneath fallen trees are not fun places to be). And your characters may encounter more than deer or rabbits. Predator species hang out around game trails as they can be fruitful hunting grounds.

Existing paths and roads- Roads can range from simple dirt paths to paved highways. These will be the most direct routes between the principle settlements in your story. Prosperous areas will have well maintained roads with travelers and patrols using them frequently. Characters may also encounter watchtowers, farms, and inns along the way. Poorer regions, those affected by war, or more remote regions will have less well maintained roads, fewer travelers, and few to no amenities between towns. And if your characters can use the roads, expect hostile armies, outlaws, and highwaymen to use them as well. And where the roads go may be limited to the most populated regions, forcing your characters to leave the path if they want to get to isolated villages, caves, temples, or even a wizard’s tower.

Use the water- Of course, you can have your characters forgo land transportation and use the rivers, lakes, and seas. Rafts, ferry boats, and ocean going ships are all viable options. It should be noted that these are not perfect solutions. Rapids and waterfalls will force characters back onto land until they find gentler waters. Storms can delay or sink vessels, and cold winters will freeze water over. Of course, a frozen river or lake is just an excuse to get out the ice skates. Droughts will dry up streams and small lakes, and recent rains can turn placid waters into unsurvivable whitewater.

Up in the trees- Hate to burst your bubble here, but swinging from vines is something that only exists in fiction. If you try to do this in real life, it will not work out well…provided you can even find sufficient vines or fig roots. Of course, in your story, you are free to do what you want. Nothing is going to stop you…well except maybe for your readers and the critics who will pan you for using what may be considered an overused and unoriginal trope. Other options include bridges, cable cars, or even zip lines.

Taking flight- Of course, the forest will not pose an obstacle if your characters can simply fly. This can be achieved by characters that possess wings of some sort. They could have a winged mount, or they could hitch a ride on a vehicle like a helicopter or ultralight plane.

Underground- If in doubt, take a cue from moles and dwarves. Tunnels can serve the same function as roads, with all the benefits and drawbacks included. Of course your characters will also have to be aware that cave-ins are a real and present danger. These can be natural, or deliberate sabotage. And your characters best hope all the recent tunneling hasn’t awaken any ancient evils from long ago…

[emswritingsstuff]

Blood Root (Daryl Dixon x Reader)

summary: bonding with daryl over your cooking

note: another @caseylicious request!! this quite a while in the making and i hope you enjoy, even if it did take forever!! also highkey recommend MF DOOMs special herbs albums because i listened to them on loop while writing this

WC: 3.7k

--

Since the start of the camp at the Quarry, you had the job of cooking and making food to go around. You volunteered to do it and loved it, not to mention it made things feel somewhat normal. But, with supplies running low and resources scarce, it got hard to make things for everyone. 

It seemed meat was always in stock; thanks to the Dixons’ hunting and the Harrisons’ fishing, you never really had to worry about losing that. But spices and herbs were difficult to come by, with only a few of you knowing how to identify herbs. Not to mention, spices aren’t a priority when it comes to necessity runs. It was disheartening you had to admit. All you wanted to do was make appetizing food, or at least something better than cooked, unseasoned rabbit. 

Doing research on herbs and plants before the fall through books and such, you knew how to pick out edible plants, including fungus like mushrooms too. With that came the knowledge of harvesting and cooking, which was your favorite part no doubt. But going out into the woods was a difficult task, not because of the potential danger but because you were always needed elsewhere on camp. 

Finding herbs was tough in general, a lot of them blending in with the other plants in the woods. Luckily, mushrooms came easy with how they stuck out like sore thumbs against the green grass and dark trees. The trick was knowing what was edible and what was toxic. Everyone was always skeptical about the mushrooms, not wanting to run the risk of getting sick. Thankfully, Shane could vouch for you. You couldn’t help but feel a little bitter that no one took your word for it. But you couldn’t dwell. 

And now you’re here, stressing about the low stock of your cooking supplies and ingredients. A lot of the group was out on a run, meaning you had to pick up the slack when you weren’t cooking. Ultimately meaning you couldn’t go out and look for ingredients yourself, which upset you even more. Sitting with the thoughts racing in your head, making attempts to think of a way to get the things you needed. 

An idea soon struck, and it was honestly a shot in the dark. But it could never hurt to at least ask. 

Daryl Dixon was an expert in those woods, and thankfully the mushrooms you needed were located there. The shaggy mane mushrooms ironically sprout on game land trails, and the oyster mushrooms on fallen trees. It was almost perfect, but the hard part was getting Daryl on board. 

The Dixon’s were loners, and it was respected for the most part. They both had tempers, Daryl being more explosive than Merle. Merle had his moments too, but he was more condescending and somehow irrational than his brother. It was common for everyone to avoid them so as to not piss them off and risk an explosion. And maybe you were risking getting a bad reaction from the younger Dixon, but you couldn’t care at that moment. Desperate to restock the makeshift inventory you had, you would try anything. 

Scanning over the camp to find Daryl, you managed to spot him talking to Shane about the hunt he was about to go on. Bingo. 

When the conversation ended between them, you bolted over to Daryl. Projecting a loud “Hey,” in which he didn’t hesitate to turn around and look at you. Catching up with him, you stopped and caught your breath before cutting to the chase. “I wanted to ask if you could grab some mushrooms while on your hunt? If you see them of course.” Handing him a piece of paper, it had attempted drawings the mushrooms you needed as well as small important details to pick them out. Getting nervous, you attempted to explain yourself, “I would go out myself but with a bunch of people out, Shane has me running around this place like crazy.” What you said was followed by a nervous laugh, watching Daryl as he gave an intense side-eye to Shane. 

Taking the paper from your hands, he looked over it and nodded, “I’ll see wha’ I can get.” Nodding back you handed him a small container, “In case you find them.” Taking the container he offered you a respectful nod before walking off and disappearing the blur of the woods. 

The days dragged on while he was gone, getting antsy to see if he found anything out there. So many bland meals have come and gone, feeling helpless and upset with yourself you couldn’t do better for the group. Amongst all the thoughts, part of you had to wonder if Daryl had even done what you asked in the first place. What if he just said he would get you off his back? What if he actually didn’t find anything? All you could do was wait and dwell on those intrusive “what if” thoughts. 

Right as you started to get lost in your brain, the archer emerged from the woods, a bunch of squirrels roped around his body. Trying to focus on cleaning from that night's dinner, all you did was hope he would make his round toward you. And luckily he did, as soon as you looked back to spot him, he was coming toward you with his bag. 

Glancing at him, you muttered a fast greeting before he placed his bag on the ground and reached into it. “Found the shrooms, got some herbs too. Remember ya talkin’ to Carol about ‘em.” Daryl handed you the container full of the mushrooms and well as a dry rag that held the herbs. Your mouth was agape, in shock he did this for you. Blinking rapidly, you mustered out a speedy “thank you.” Maybe you didn’t show it, but you were ecstatic. 

Dinner the following day was much better than you anticipated. It made you feel like yourself again, the food wasn’t five star quality but you did it. You made it, and the compliments from the group added to your radiant joy. There was one thing that damped your spirits though.

And that was Daryl not coming to dinner. Him and Merle never ate with the rest of the group, usually just grabbing food and leaving, tonight was different. He didn’t come over at all. With Merle being out with the run group, he was all alone. Peeking over at him, Daryl just sat at his spot working on something you couldn’t really see. Unsure if he ate something, you made the choice to prepare a small portion of what you made for the group for him. 

Considering he was nice enough to go out and help find the ingredients, he deserved to try some. And you were going to make it happen. Approaching his space, you stood there for a minute, unsure if you should disturb him or not. It didn’t take Daryl long to notice your presence, stopping what he was doing to look up at you. No words were spoken, just simply handing him the bowl. And he ended up taking it, investigating what exactly was in there. 

Taking in a breath, you finally spoke, “You didn’t come to dinner, didn’t know if you ate or not.” Crossing your arms, you watched as Daryl nodded along and took a quick bite. “Good, it's good.” Daryl's words surprised you, even if they were muffled by the food in his mouth. “Oh, thanks.” Pausing for a minute, you continued to sneak glances while he ate. “Want more?” And by the time you asked, he was a few more bites in, perking up at the question. “Got more?” Nodding, you grabbed the bowl from him and took it to grab him more food. 

As you walked away you smiled fondly to yourself, absolutely thrilled you made the most stubborn person in the group at least a little bit happy. He may not have had a ‘happy’ expression, but you could feel the energy off of him. 

And from that point on, the relationship you had with Daryl bloomed into something more. A sort of friendship, but you weren’t entirely sure if he would’ve agreed with that. 

Nonetheless, since that day at the Quarry, you had grown accustomed to talking to Daryl about random recipes you had made in the past. Or showed him beat-up cookbooks you’d found. Just going on and on about what you could do if you had the ingredients. 

And like clockwork, Daryl magically found an ingredient or two that you talked about on a run. It would always make your day, knowing he was thinking of you and about what you talked about while out there. And without a doubt the dinners were always better. 

Hence, the dinner routine started. Daryl always got to try what you made first, your way of showing gratitude to him. He’d always take what you handed him, sometimes begrudgingly. To him, it felt like you were sort of “babying” him. Also known as, feeding him decent food. 

He tried to act all stubborn and tough, but all the walls came down the minute he tried what you made. More times than not, he would be right over as soon as the group started eating. 

After arriving at the prison, soon came the new opportunities with an almost gated off “community” you all had created. The change was good. Even if it was stressful to get used to at first. As the days went on, the more and more improvements you had made. And the more people that joined. One of the improvements was livestock and gardens. With the help of Hershel and Rick, maintaining both of them was easy and rewarding. 

Meals got better too, suddenly having so much more food and ingredients at your disposal to mess around with. And with that, came Daryl too. 

The so-called dinner routine that had been created between the two of you blossomed to something more than you letting him try the food. Once everybody’s routines got solidified, so did the time for meals. With that came Daryl always somehow being around and getting first plate was given out. 

It was adorable, you had to admit that. Daryl would never outright say it was because he enjoyed your cooking. But all of the signs were there, not to mention he’d try and play it cool every time he stuck around while you cooked. The nonchalant act he was putting out didn’t work on you at all. Not even for a single second. 

“You can just say you like my cooking, you don’t have to race for first plate everyday to show it.” Shooting him a cocky look, he just scoffed in response. “Not tha’. Jus’ got nothin’ better to do,” as you worked you sneaked fast glances at him, a smirk just on your face. 

“Really? Everyday, you have nothing better to do?” Daryl just gave you a “Please shut up” look, which caused you to eventually drop the subject. But an indescribable joy filled your heart every time you saw him waiting, even if he was so stubborn about it.

As the weeks went past, the relationship you had with Daryl grew. It sprouted into something so much more than what you would have ever thought. Amidst all the times he’s helped find ingredients or hang around you while you worked, a new feeling ignited in your chest.  You liked him, and it was a feeling you really couldn’t deny any longer. 

So, you did something about it. A feeling within you told you he felt the same, but the man was so hard to read that you were unsure. And With all the confidence you could muster, you asked him out before dinner one day. A ping of nervousness was there, thinking you misread the signs he was giving. Thankfully thought, you were right. The relationship the both of you had basically remained the same, but with more touches and kissing now. It made you happy, and it made him happy.  

Somehow within all the moments of disappointment and sorrow, you finally had something amazing. Something you never thought you would be able to have.

But like all good things come, they also go. For once you wished everyone would stay the same, thankful for the change you had. but now the prison was gone, and now you all were on the road. After being separated and being held at Terminus, everyone had changed. In one way or another. 

To you, Daryl’s was the most notable, especially after Beth. He was always stubborn, but it wasn’t like him to be so closed off and quiet. The going off by himself worried you as well, but he never wanted you to go with him. Not wanting you to see him in such a way. 

Just as everything seemed to get worse, a man named Aaron came along. Speaking of a community called “Alexandria”. It sounded too good to be true and no one believed it was true. 

No amount of pictures or “brochures” could convince the group otherwise. But Aaron was a man of his word it seemed, ultimately taking you to Alexandria to show you the real thing. 

It was a dream, you swore you had to be imagining the whole thing. Sure you had running water in the prison, and you had other “normal” things. But electricity and hot water was something you never thought could be possible again. And here it was. 

After the interviews, all of you were accepted. Getting jobs or “earning your keep” as they say. Even getting offered a home, which Aaron was kind enough to show you to.

Finally stepping into the new home, it felt even more unreal. Looking around you weren’t sure how to exactly feel about it. Aaron bashfully followed you in, Daryl sicking outside with his crossbow. Aaron slowly inched his way to be up beside you. Looking at him you gestured toward the kitchen. “You weren’t shitting us right? All of this works?” as you spoke you pointed at the oven and stove. Aaron laughed as he crossed his arms, “Take a look for yourself.”  Raising an eyebrow, you did what he said. And to your surprise, it did work. 

“Holy shit?” Aaron laughed at your amazed tone, causing you to laugh with him. “This whole place is for you and Daryl, if he ever comes inside that is,” peeking at Daryl outside you could barely see the top of his head as he sat on the deck. Shaking your head, you muttered a quick thank you before following Aaron outside. 

“There's a welcome party at Deanna’s tonight, all of you are invited. If you want to go,” looking at Daryl, you could see in his face that it was a hard ‘no’ from him. “Think we’ll just stay in, adjust to everything you know,” Aaron nodded in agreement. “I understand, but Daryl,” his head shot up as Aaron addressed him directly. “Stop over at my house at some point, have something to ask and show you,” you could see Daryl’s blank stare as Aaron spoke to him. And as if on cue, Aaron quickly made his leave, waving a goodbye before walking off to his home. 

Walking over to Daryl, you made your place right beside him. Sitting there in silence, you rested your head on his shoulder causing him to wrap an arm around you and pause working. Bringing your hand up, you captured his hand in yours. 

“I know this isn’t what you want, but I think this could be good,” you whispered quietly, causing Daryl to let out a breath. “Judith needs a roof, so does everyone else,” he couldn’t even look at you, almost ashamed. “What about you?” shaking his head, he finally looked at you. “Don’ know,” wrapping your arms around him, you let him bury his face in your neck. Letting your hand play with his hair, you began to speak again. “You should go in the house, get cleaned up. I’ll run to the pantry and I’ll make us dinner,” he grunted quietly but obliged. Placing a kiss on your head and letting himself into the home. Waiting a few minutes, you eventually got up and made your way to the pantry. 

Walking through the streets of Alexandria, it felt peaceful, like nothing can hurt you anymore. It felt silly to think such things, but maybe this place was the safe shelter you’d always strived to have. This was your fresh start. 

Once grabbing everything you needed for your dinner, without any delay you made your way back to the house. Ready to relax after days on the road. 

Entering the home the sound of running water filled your ears, signaling Daryl was in there. Smiling fondly to yourself you walked to the kitchen, ready to start dinner. Just deciding to make plain spaghetti, it was easy and something you haven’t had since the fall. Plus it was romantic in a way, or at least it was considered that in your opinion. 

Cooking up the sauce and meat, you let them simmer together while you start the noodles. Putting on the pot and letting the water boil, and while waiting you lifted yourself up on the counter and sat there. 

Sitting there for a few minutes, Daryl emerged from the hall. His hair was still wet, but he was cleaner and had a fresh set of clothes on. A gleeful smile painted your face as he walked toward you, standing still beside you. 

“Whatcha makin’” his gruff voice broke the silence, him shyly looking up at you. “Just some spaghetti, change of pace from stew and jerky,” you laughed as you spoke, even getting a chuckle out of him. Reaching your hand over to his hair, you ran your fingers through it. “How are you feeling?” 

You could see Daryl biting the inside of his cheek before responding, “Fine, don’ worry 'bout me.” Not wanting to start a bigger conversation he didn’t want to have, you dropped it. Much to your own dismay though.  

As if saved by the bell, the water had started boiling. Hopping off the counter, you placed the pasta in the pot and letting it cook. Daryl remained in his place, watching you work. 

After about a few minutes, you fished out a noodle and rinsed it off so it was cold. Putting it in your hand, he looked at you confused. “Wanna try it? See if it's done?” still holding the noodle, he went to grab it and swiftly ate it. He looked unsure and all you could do was giggle at his demeanor, “Never taste tested a noodle?” Shaking his head with a “no” your face subtly dropped, but you didn't let it ruin the moment. 

“You know, if you throw it at the wall and it sticks. Means it’s done,” getting out another noodle and washing it off, he took it from your hands. Raising his eyebrow looking at you, he threw it at the nearest wall. 

“They’re done,” he pointed at the noodle stuck on the wall. Giggling softly, you made quick work of straining the noodles and mixing them with the sauce. You took the pan with the spaghetti and set it on the table, towel under it so as to not burn the table. Daryl took it upon himself to set the table with plates and silverware, before you could even think about it. 

Both of you sat down at the table across from each other, sitting there for a moment you gestured for Daryl to take his portion first. “Shouldn’t ya? Ya made it,” pointing at him, you quickly shut him up. “That’s exactly why you get the first plate. Now, eat,” Daryl put his hands up in a surrendering motion before making his plate. As soon as he was done you got yours, prompting you to both start enjoying your dinner. 

It was silent, almost a little too silent for you. Daryl’s expression was one that signaled to you that he was thinking about something. Staring at your plate, you waited for Daryl to finish eating before you asked anything. It definitely looked like something was wrong or at least bothering him. And you were tired of waiting. 

By the time he was finished eating, he had noticed you staring. His hand waving in front of your head caused you to look at him, a questioning look on his face. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself to speak.

“Daryl, tell me what's on your mind,” instantly freezing, he looked down at the cloth napkin on his legs. Obviously debating with himself on what he should say. “Jus’, thinkin’ about us,” setting down your fork, you took your hand in his. “What about us?” 

Daryl cleared his throat, stalling, still looking down. “No one’s ever done anythin’ like this for me before. Don’ know wha’ I did to deserve it,” his voice was quiet. Looking at him softly, your thumb rubbed his hand, drawing soft shapes into it. Staying quiet, he continued to speak. Just opening up to you at that moment. 

“When mom died, Merle took over cookin’. It was never like this, it’s why I liked ya so much back then.” Looking at his face, the tears in his eyes were obvious. The memories from his childhood were painful, it was a known fact between the both of you. It was rare for him to be so open like this. But it meant he felt safe. 

Bringing up the hand you weren’t holding, he wiped off his face. Sniffling in the process, he apologized for how he was acting, almost ashamed. Reassuring him it was fine, you stood up and hugged him from behind. Planting a soft kiss on his head, and after staying like that for a minute, the both of you separated. 

As you walked away you rubbed his back, picking up the dirty dishes in the process. He was quick to follow you, wanting to help with the cleanup. You almost protested, wanting to tell him you could do it, but he was already washing the dishes. As you watched him, the thought of the change in him creeped into your mind. You knew you might never fully know what was going on with him, and that was his choice, but today was a step forward. And you were thankful for that. 

[kiwixlime]

Quiet and Confident

X is for Xennial 

You really love this old man.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader Notes: I haven’t died! I have just been through so much since I last updated anything and as much as I told myself I could do things, I just wasn’t in the right headspace. In these two years, I’ve fallen in and out of love, dealt with natural disasters, ups and lows of my emotions, and a boring list of other things. But I’ve been going down the rabbit hole lately, replaying my games, and I’ve been missing my boys so badly. And for the first time in forever, I have the inspiration to pick up where I left off. Who knows how long this will last. But right now, it feels right. I feel happy and ready to move on. So I present this. I felt it was the easiest way to ease back into writing. A simple and short one shot that of course includes our favorite dilf.  Warnings because we need those: Just some fluff and some suggestive conversation. Age gap, obviously. I love old man Joel. It’s been a long time since I’ve written anything interesting so I’m not ready to dive right back into the smut yet haha. Soon, though! Soon. Anyway, this is short and sweet because it’s been a roadblock in my drafts and I have better things planned and I just want to get this out of the way. Definitely not my best work, but I promise better things are ahead. 

“Ha, Xennial.” 

“Somethin’ funny to you?” 

“Nope, nothing.” 

“You’re askin’ for it.” 

“Asking for what, grandpa?” 

Joel groans and mutters something to himself. You can’t help but laugh, sitting up in your bed, bringing your arms out in front of you to stretch yourself awake. The sun barely seeps through the curtains of your bedroom, but there’s enough of a glow for you to take in the markings that embellish your wrists. You smile, tucking your hands into your lap. 

“We should be more careful,” you express, catching his attention again. 

Curious, he enters your room, closing the bathroom door behind him. His sculpted figure makes its way to the edge of your bed. You stare in awe as he stands tall over you. He's old, but he's Godly. So fucking Godly. With a concerned pout, he holds his hands out, urging you to show him your wounds. 

When you comply, revealing the reddening marks and deepening bruises, he frowns. In the moment, he loves being rough with you. There's nothing better than listening to you beg and plead and whimper like a desperate little bitch. But once the lust wears out, he feels a little bad for treating you so...dirty. 

“Sorry, princess,” he hums and brings your wrists to his lips. His warm breath hits your skin, sending goosebumps up your arms and warmth throughout your belly. “Grandpa just can’t help himself.” 

“Oh, ew,” you whine, yanking yourself away from him. You fall back onto the bed, pulling the sheet up with you to cover your grossed-out face. You started it, but ew. “You ruined it.” 

“Hey,” he chuckles, lowering himself onto the mattress with you. “You started it. Callin’ me old 'n' shit.” 

“I’m sorry!” You giggle, exposing your face to him as he slowly pulls the white cotton fabric off your body. He's barely listening as he takes in the sight of you, gorgeous and innocent, just for him. “I just can’t get over it. Xennial.” 

“Why is that so fuckin’ funny to you?” He asks with a smile, his focus back on your face, finding you absolutely adorable with your cheeky smile and glistening eyes. 

Last night, before heading home, you guys were out with your sister and his brother and a few others, just shooting the shit and having a drink. Tommy referred to Joel as an Xennial and for some reason, you just lost it. It was the funniest thing you'd heard. 

“It’s just another way of calling you old,” you say like it's the most obvious thing in the world. “I like it.” 

“Yeah, well,” he huffs, feigning annoyance. “You weren’t thinkin’ I was too old for you last night, tied to the bed and beggin' to be--.” 

You grunt, slapping his arm. He’s not wrong. And he knows you’re joking. You like the fact that Joel is so much older than you. It’s not some weird kink thing, even though it seems that way and you happily play along to the roles. But there’s maturity in him, wisdom, and he doesn’t play games with your emotions. He’s straightforward and too old for bullshit. He lets you know what he wants and you love that you don’t have to guess. 

Plus, you feel comfortable with him. He’s strong and tough and sometimes a little scary, but he makes you feel safe. More than that, he teaches you how to hold your own; he teaches you how to protect yourself. You appreciate that. He’s delicate with your feelings and serious about your well-being. 

“Speaking of,” you say, the tone change in your voice is not lost on the older man. “You’re getting careless in public, you have to be careful or my sister will find out.” 

Thickness fills the air around you, leaving Joel with an uneasy feeling in his gut. You can feel the tension raying off of him and practically suffocating you. "Right," he says. 

Recalling the night prior, you can’t count the number of times Joel almost slipped up in front of everyone. It was either an intimate look that lasted a few seconds too long, a touch that was borderline indecent, or just his overall demeanor showing that he was way too close to you. Luckily, no one noticed as they were either occupied or intoxicated, but one of these days you won’t be so lucky. And your sister will lose her shit. 

“Is it the age thing?” He asks with a frown, his spirit darkening a bit. In all seriousness, his age is a bit of a sore subject between you two. He made sure a thousand and one times that you were okay with the large gap that existed between you two, and you were - you are. But sometimes it still gets to him. 

The last thing he wants is for someone, your sister especially, to think he has ill intentions towards you. And he doesn’t want people thinking badly of you, either. Even at the end of the world, the town loves their gossip. 

You’re young, but you’re not naive, you’re not stupid or careless, you know what you’re getting yourself into.  

“That and you know…” You trail off when you notice he’s lost in thought. 

“What?” He asks, dumbly, and you laugh. You stare at him, waiting for his brain to catch up, and when it finally clicks he lets out a small “oh.” 

“She wanted you first,” you finish, watching his face fall. He looks uncomfortable, squirming a bit under your gaze. It’s not something he likes remembering, mostly because it brings his tired brain back to the age thing again and leaves him with a sour feeling in his stomach. He’s not a creep. He’s not. Right? 

“And I wanted you,” he says softly, shyly almost. He doesn’t have to say much for you to know what’s going on in his gorgeous head. It’s painfully obvious. 

“And I wanted you,” you reply. “I know there’s something, deep down in your gut, telling you that this is bad, but I’m telling you to ignore it. I’m an adult, Joel. I’ve been an adult for years.” 

“I know that,” he sighs. “It’s just--” 

“It’s nothing,” you say firmly. “Look around, love. Look at the world we’re living in. If we find love, if we find comfort, who are we to deny it?” 

“I like what you’re sayin’,” he admits with a handsome grin, his hand finding yours, counting your fingers as he presses soft kisses to each one. He brings your palm to his cheek, resting against it and looking at you with such adoration. “You have me wrapped around your finger, you know that?” 

You hum, eyes fluttering closed, loving what he’s saying and how he says it. His naked body relaxes against yours as he climbs on top of you. Warm lips find your neck, sending your sensitive body and mind into a spell. You could stay here forever, getting lost within him, making yourself at home in his embrace. God, your sister would be so disappointed for so many reasons. 

“Everyone always says I’m just the younger version of her,” you whisper, killing the mood as Joel’s lips falter against your skin. He pulls away, brows furrowed in confusion and a little disappointment. “Sorry,” you squeak. 

“Somethin’ on your mind?” He asks with concern. 

Sighing, you sit up, Joel grumbling in disappointment as he sits up with you. “I don’t question whether or not I want to be with you,” you tell him with certainty. “But she is the one person who scares me with this. She already thinks I’ve become a different person since coming to Jackson. And I keep going over last night. One of these days, we’re going to slip. And she’s going to kill you. I’ve always been told I’m just the mini version of her. So if she finds out, she’s going to think the worst of you. She’s going to think you’re the worst kind of pervert.” 

The rambling is doing your head in, but you can’t stop. Your inside thoughts are out there now and you can’t get them back on their leash. It’s been a while since you’ve panicked like this and you really don’t care for it. 

“Because I didn’t want her?” He scoffs, standing from the bed and grabbing his clothes from the floor. He slips his boxers on and then his jeans, feeling awkward being exposed during this kind of conversation. “You’re not a mini version of her,” he insists, sitting back beside you. “You look alike, sure, but that’s where the similarities end, darlin’. I promise.” 

It’s nice to hear, and it’s something you want to believe. But his words can’t erase years of everyone you know telling you how alike you and Lexie are. Maybe that’s why you’ve changed so much. It wasn’t the world ending, it was the newfound freedom. Here, you aren’t Lexie’s little sister. Here, you are your own being. And no one knows otherwise. 

“Listen,” Joel starts before your mind can spiral again. He grabs your hand, holding it tightly to keep you grounded. “Maybe I’m wrong, maybe I just don’t know Lexie well enough. But your sister, to me, seems like the type who is always tryin’ to impress everyone. I get the feelin’ she has the need to be liked; to fit herself into whatever shape someone asks of her.” 

Part of you wants to jump into your sister’s defense and tell Joel she's not like that. But you can’t seem to find your voice. And you’re not sure if you’d be lying or telling the truth. 

“But you aren’t like that at all. You don’t give a shit what anyone thinks, and you don’t cater to 'em. You don’t make yourself smaller to make everyone else feel more important. You’re quiet and confident. And I love that about you,” he finishes and you can hardly contain yourself. 

As the words leave his lips, you pounce on him, rolling him onto his back while you crawl on top of him. He lets out a little grunt and winces, grabbing onto your hips tighter than you were anticipating. 

“Oops,” you laugh. “Did I hurt your old back?” 

“Keep talkin’, sweetheart,” he says, gruffly. “I’ll show you how fuckin’ old I am.” 

You roll your eyes. “That doesn’t make any sense.” 

Joel grits his teeth before asking, “When does your sister get home?” 

You shrug. “Not for a couple hours, why?” 

He laughs and pushes himself up, quickly flipping your positions. He reaches for the binds tied to your headboard and grins down at you, fire in his eyes. “I just think you need a reminder,” he says. “of what happens when you talk back to me.” 

[minus-plus-zer0]

~ Welcome ~

| ♡ Ao3: minus-plus-zero ♡ | | ♡ Fanfiction.net: minus-plus-zero ♡ | | ♡ Request status: CLOSED ♡ |

~ Rules ~

You can request drabbles, headcanons, or one-shot fanfics. If not specified I often default to writing fanfics.

I write fluff 🩷, angst 💔, hurt/comfort 💘, or crack ❣️.

I do not write smut, cheating, or sexual assault.

I do not write abuse or abusive dynamics between Bakugou and the reader. Abusive themes are otherwise okay (such as abusive backstories or witnessing abuse), with the sole exception of sexual abuse.

I only write gender neutral or female readers. I keep most stories race/gender neutral.

I only write romantic Bakugou x reader. Side ships with other characters may be included, but Bakugou and the reader must only be with each other!

Please do not copy/repost my art without permission! If I accidentally use stolen/AI art please let me know, because this is never intentional.

~ Masterlist ~

| 🩷 - fluff | 💔 - angst | 💘 - hurt/comfort | ❣️ - crack |

Drabbles

He Likes to Share His Food 🩷

Love at First Sight 🩷

Offering His Jacket 🩷

Reminders of You 🩷

What He Thinks About Post-Breakup 💔

Who the King Serves 🩷

Bakugou Fights For You 💘🩷

Not Afraid to Say ILY 🩷

Possessive 🩷

Family Getting Ready for Bed 🩷

Headcanons

Studying in Bakugou's Dorm 🩷

Getting a Dog With Bakugou 🩷

Vigilante Bakugou x Normal Reader - Part 1 💔

Vigilante Bakugou x Normal Reader - Part 2 💔🩷

"And They Were Roommates" University Version 🩷

Working at Bakugou's Agency - Part 1 🩷

Working at Bakugou's Agency - Part 2 🩷

Fireworks Festival With Bakugou 🩷

Fiance 🩷

Beauty Pageant 🩷

Fics

A Royal's Choice [Masterlist]

The Bakusquad Gaming Group [Masterlist]

Paper Kiss Game 🩷

Missed Texts 💔

Stuck Inside From the Rain 🩷

Shopping With Bakugou 🩷

Disappearance of You 💔💘 [Request]

Dead of Night 💔💘

His Cologne (And Yours) 🩷

Accidentally Sleeping Together 🩷

Almost Too Late 💔💘🩷

Tattoos 🩷

Alice in Wonderland White Rabbit Reader 🩷❣️

(Not) Highly Trained in the Art of Kissing 🩷

He Hears You Talking About Him 🩷

Catching Him in His Celebrity Disguise 🩷

So Pretty 🩷

Moodboards

Dates With Bakugou 🩷

[haespoir]

try again: ldh.

never not, pt 2!

⨯ pairing: ex!haechan x reader

⨯ word count: 1.4k 

⨯ summary: sleeping with your ex wasn't the best idea when you're too much of a coward to face him after. thankfully, haechan's anger seems to be enough courage for the both of you.

⨯ warnings: uhmmm no content warnings that i can think of... fluff n angst is all i've got.. haechan is desperate and reader gives in easily... just like me fr

⨯ playlist: try again, jaehyun / clementine, grantperez / wayo, bang yedam / universe, thuy 

⨯ extra content: part one

⨯ a/n: finally... part two is here!!! i hope you guys enjoy it.. i wanted to include more angst... but i couldn't do it. feedback is always greatly appreciated 🩵

. . .

Waking up to an empty bed has Haechan livid, like absolutely enraged. No one could calm the male down, not that they even wanted to try. It was an unspoken rule to just let Haechan feel his emotions; the male felt everything so intensely that it was useless to even attempt to help. 

He couldn’t believe it. If there weren’t bruises scattered along his neck, he would have believed it was some horribly fucked up dream. It was so cruel of you to leave him like this. Even if he had more than a few drinks the night before, he was honest and true in his intentions of wanting to talk. Maybe somewhere along the way the execution was messed up, but he was determined. 

Which is why he gives himself time to cool off. Barging into your apartment when he was seeing red was not a wise decision, he knew that much at least. Haechan was not the same immature kid he was when you guys began dating, and he wanted to prove that to you. 

He did. 

He really did. 

But old habits die hard. 

haechan [1:05 pm]: i gave you three hours since i’ve woken up  haechan [1:05 pm]: answer the damn phone  haechan [1:05 pm]: you’re not getting off the hook that easily haechan [1:30 pm]: don’t leave me on read  haechan [1:30 pm]: i know where you live  you [1:31 pm]: is that a threat?  haechan [1:32 pm]: it doesn’t have to be  haechan [1:32 pm]: talk to me haechan [1:32 pm]: please  you [1:36 pm]: tomorrow  haechan [1:39 pm]: not a fucking chance  haechan [1:40 pm]: i'm coming over you [1:50 pm]: the code is the same

You weren’t sure how you were going to prepare for this one. The walk of shame out of Haechan’s room was already enough emotional torment for the day. You weren’t ready to face him. You couldn’t think of a single excuse, and you knew Haechan was ready to eat you alive. 

Before you can even stop it, the tears begin to pool. You don’t even attempt to fight it as you sit on your couch, the tears rapidly decorating your cheeks. How did you tell your first love that you were a coward? How did you tell him that you loved him so intensely it scared you? At some point during your first year of college, you had begun to spiral when every icebreaker in a class involved Haechan. 

What do you like doing? 

Hmm, you usually watched your boyfriend's game with his friends.

Who’s your closest friend? 

Oh easy, Haechan. 

Girls night? 

Sorry, you were hanging out with Haechan. 

Being so dependent on him was terrifying, but you knew that you couldn’t stop. So you had to cut him off; there were probably better ways to go about it, but you didn’t give it much thought. 

It was so unfair to him. 

You can’t even begin to fall down that rabbit hole because there’s a sudden pressure on the couch next to you. Haechan was faster than you thought; in fact, it was probably a record speed for Haechan to arrive somewhere. He was someone who enjoyed being fashionably late, anything to make a grand entrance. However, for once, he decides to enter quietly. After all, the fact that the code to your apartment was still his birthday was something that he hoped had more meaning than just being a memorable set of numbers. 

“Why are you crying?” You flinch visibly at his tone. You remind yourself that you did this to yourself. Haechan had months of pent-up frustration, and you were prepared to take the entire thing. 

That was a lie, by the way. 

Because you can’t even bring yourself to look at him. “Do you want a snack? I bought some clementines recently.” You’re deflecting; you both know it. Without giving him a chance to even reply, you rush to the kitchenette in your studio apartment. Once you’re far enough, you steal a glance at Haechan. 

Seeing him spread on your couch like that squeezed your heart in ways you could not describe. He looked like he belonged there, like there was no place in the world better than your couch in your small apartment for him to be. Even now when you feared that this would turn into a screaming match and that you both would be left with a hurting heart once again, you knew that you would always love the man who sat in your living room. 

He was your universe, your everything. The fact that two years had gone by did not change the connection between you two. It was like you had never left his side; you were his perfect puzzle piece. 

And you prayed, as you gathered a few clementines and a plate, that you hadn’t ruined it completely. 

Once you’re seated next to him again, you allow yourself the small distraction of peeling the citrus for him. Without realizing it, you’re both sitting in silence; you’re peeling the small fruit and handing each piece to Haechan. It’s like you’ve fallen into a familiar routine. He takes each piece of fruit without much thought, savoring the tart flavor. He swears it tastes best when you’re peeling it for him, even going as far as to remove the pith for him. He always complained that the small strings were too bitter. Someone as sweet as him shouldn’t be eating it, you used to say. 

Unknowingly, Haechan’s anger seems to disappear as the nostalgia creeping through his body appears. After all, he was always him when he was with you. 

“Why did you do it?” His voice is small when he speaks as if eating had drained him of all the anger coursing through his veins. 

“I had to. You consumed my every waking thought,” you reply, feeling the tears beginning to well up. “It’s such a shitty excuse, I know. But I should not be in my general ed classes thinking of marrying my high school sweetheart.” Your attempt at a joke is poor because it’s true. That was something you both knew; there were many nights where you two had laid in his bed, his arm wrapped securely around your shoulders as you discussed married life. 

But when you realized just how deep you were, you became scared. Terrified. It was so overwhelming to be in love with someone like Donghyuck. The fear of the unknown had beaten you down. 

“That’s so unfair, and you know it,” he says in disbelief. So he was right last night. “I had spent so many months thinking I did something wrong; that there was something wrong with me. You made me think I was unlovable.” 

Your heart breaks into a million pieces at his words. Had you done that to him? How could he even look at you right now? 

“Oh, Hyuck,” you sniffled, letting his nickname slip into your vocabulary as if it had never left. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Your hands are cupping his face, wiping the tears that spilled from his eyes. Your fingers smelled of citrus as you wiped his tears. At that moment, your love was an offering of your soul and sincerity, an act that spoke volumes to him. “Forgive me,” it declared, “I love you so dearly.” 

“That has never been the case. I don’t think there’s a single person who hasn’t fallen in love with you at least once in their life.” You can only hope your sincerity reaches him.  

“Well, there’s Renjun…” You roll your eyes at his attempt to be humorous, feeling a bit better knowing that whatever was going on in his head wasn’t bad enough for him to not crack a joke. 

Without a word, Haechan is wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing his head into your shoulder. “What about you?” he murmurs. “How many times have you fallen in love with me?” 

You chew your lip, not fighting your instinct when your hands go to his hair. “I don’t think I could count,” you say. “I fall in love with you every day.” 

“Even now?” 

You hum, pressing a small kiss to the crown of his head. “Even now.” 

That seems to satisfy him. Quickly, he’s pushing onto the couch, the plate of citrus quickly forgotten as he cuddles into your side. “We’ll be alright, right?” It’s a question, but you think it’s more for him than it is for you. You hum again, intertwining your fingers with his. “I want to try again.” 

This time you don’t fight it. After all, you were his clementine. His inevitable lover.