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gainercontent · 2 months ago

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The Naughty List - Part 1

It was Christmas Eve, and 20-year-old Jason Price was in his usual rebellious mood. As the snow fell gently outside, blanketing the small suburban neighborhood in a layer of white, Jason lounged on his couch in a dark hoodie, earbuds securely in place, blasting music that was anything but festive. The rest of his family had gathered in the kitchen, baking cookies and humming carols, but Jason wasn’t having any of it.

For years now, he'd grown cynical about Christmas. The magic he once believed in had been replaced with indifference and apathy. He hadn't cared about Santa Claus in ages, and to him, the holiday was just another marketing ploy to make people buy things they didn’t need. He never cared for the usual Christmas cheer—family gatherings, gift exchanges, the whole “being together” thing. In his mind, the whole season was just one big commercialized joke.

To make matters worse, Jason had learned that he was on Santa’s naughty list this year. Not that he cared; he’d long stopped worrying about whether or not he got presents. His rebellious nature had only grown over the years, and he wore it like a badge of honor. Sure, he’d gotten a few reminders from his parents, and even a half-hearted lecture about “the Christmas spirit,” but he had rolled his eyes and shrugged them off. If Santa didn’t like it, well, that was his problem.

The house was quiet, except for the sound of Christmas music drifting from the kitchen. Jason scrolled through his phone, avoiding the festivities and ignoring his family’s attempts to engage him. His mom had baked a fresh batch of gingerbread cookies, filling the house with the sweet, warm smell of cinnamon, nutmeg, and molasses. But Jason wasn’t in the mood for any of it. He wasn’t interested in the cookies, the hot cocoa, or even the Christmas tree standing tall in the corner of the living room, its lights twinkling with innocent holiday joy.

He tossed a glance toward the window. The world outside was still, save for the occasional flurry of snowflakes that danced in the light from the streetlamps. Everything felt like it was frozen in time, caught between the present and the past, and Jason couldn’t shake the feeling that he didn’t belong in this world of traditions anymore.

Suddenly, a strange noise broke his focus.

**Thud.**

It wasn’t the sound of a car driving by, or even the wind against the windows. It was too heavy, too deliberate. Jason sat up, pulling out his earbuds and staring at the ceiling as the sound came again.

**Thud.**

A faint rustle, like something—or someone—was shifting on the roof.

Jason furrowed his brow, rubbing his eyes. What the hell was that? He’d heard noises on the roof before—possibly squirrels or the occasional raccoon—but this was different. The thuds were slow, steady. Almost rhythmic.

**Thud. Thud.**

He shot a glance at the clock. It was well past midnight. His parents had long gone to bed, and there was no one else in the house. It was just him and the sound of whatever was walking—or stomping—on the roof.

Jason got to his feet and cautiously moved toward the window, pulling back the heavy curtains just enough to peer outside. The yard was still—no one was out there. The sky was dark and clouded, and the only light was from the moon reflecting off the snow. He listened again, straining his ears for any sign of movement, but the thudding had stopped.

Confused and a bit unnerved, Jason shook his head. "Stupid raccoons," he muttered under his breath. He was about to turn away when a faint, sweet scent reached his nose.

The smell of freshly baked cookies.

It was the same warm, spicy smell of his mom’s gingerbread cookies. But it wasn’t coming from the kitchen. Jason’s eyes widened as he looked toward the staircase. He could smell it more strongly now, wafting down the hall.

“Mom?” he called, but his voice was hoarse from sleep, barely a whisper.

No answer. His parents were definitely asleep—he would have heard them if they were up. Still, Jason’s feet moved almost on their own, pulling him into the hallway, the smell growing stronger as he passed the kitchen and toward the living room. But the cookies... weren’t coming from the kitchen. They were coming from the fireplace.

His breath caught in his throat. The fireplace.

He hadn’t noticed it before, but now that he was paying attention, it was almost as if the whole room seemed... different. The Christmas tree lights were flickering in a way that made him feel dizzy. A low hum seemed to fill the air, almost like a song playing beneath everything else.

Jason took a hesitant step toward the fireplace. The hearth was cold, empty—nothing unusual. The chimney was clear, but that strange scent—those gingerbread cookies—lingered in the air like an invitation.

He was about to turn away when, out of nowhere, there was a loud **CRASH** from the roof.

This time, it wasn’t a thud or a rustle. It was a full-on slam, followed by the unmistakable sound of footsteps—big, heavy boots thumping down onto the chimney.

Jason froze. This wasn’t a raccoon. Or a squirrel.

Suddenly, the air in the living room grew thick with a strange energy, and the lights flickered once more before going completely out. For a moment, the house was plunged into darkness. Jason’s heart raced as he stood there, his pulse pounding in his ears.

Then, from the other side of the room, there was a noise—a deep, heavy breath, like someone exhaling after a long day of hard work.

Jason’s stomach dropped as he realized: something—or *someone*—was in his house.

He didn’t have time to react before the sound of boots against wood echoed down the stairs. A heavy, jolly laugh filled the space, reverberating in the room.

“Ho, ho, ho!”

Jason’s mind went blank. He couldn’t believe his ears. Standing in the doorway, just beyond the shadows of the hallway, was a large figure dressed in red. A thick, snowy white beard covered his face, and his eyes twinkled in a way that made Jason feel as though he was staring at something from a dream.

There was no mistaking it. It was Santa Claus.

The old man looked at him with a knowing smile. “Well, well, well, Jason Price. You’re still awake?”

Jason could only stand there, his mouth hanging open. His head spun, trying to make sense of what was happening. “Santa...?” he managed to stammer.

Santa chuckled, adjusting the massive sack over his shoulder. “I see you’re on my naughty list this year, young man. But don’t worry, I’ve got something special for you.”

Before Jason could say another word, Santa reached into his sack and pulled out a plate of warm, freshly baked cookies. The same ones that filled the house with their intoxicating scent. He held them out to Jason, his eyes twinkling with a mix of mischief and understanding.

"You’ve been a little too rebellious, haven’t you? Maybe it’s time to find some balance."

Jason stood there, speechless. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind, but one thing was clear: this wasn’t the Christmas he’d been expecting.

With a deep breath, Jason took the plate of cookies. As he did, he realized something—the world outside, the cold, snowy night, and the strange magic filling his house, felt like a new beginning. Maybe being on the naughty list wasn’t the end of it all. Maybe, just maybe, there was something to be learned about Christmas after all.

Jason stood in the middle of the living room, still in disbelief at what was happening. Santa Claus, the jolly old man in red, had just handed him a plate of fresh gingerbread cookies, their spicy scent filling the room and tantalizing his senses. It didn’t seem real—none of it did. But there was Santa, smiling knowingly at him as if he’d been expecting Jason all along.

“Go on,” Santa said with a twinkle in his eye. “Try one. It’s part of the magic, you know.”

Jason hesitated. His stomach, still a little uneasy from all the holiday food he’d already eaten, growled at the prospect of another treat. But despite himself, the cookies looked too delicious to pass up. He picked up one of the small, perfectly shaped gingerbread men, still warm from the oven.

Santa leaned back slightly, his large belly shaking as he chuckled. “Ah, don’t worry, they’re not just cookies. They’ve got a little bit of magic in them. And trust me, they’ll change things for you.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, looking down at the cookie. The idea of magic seemed ludicrous—he wasn’t a little kid anymore, after all. But the cookie smelled so good, and for some reason, he couldn’t resist. He took a bite, letting the sweetness wash over his tongue. The spices, the warmth, the soft crumble of the cookie—it was like nothing he’d ever tasted before.

At first, there was just a sense of satisfaction. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he chewed, feeling the holiday warmth spread through him. But then, something strange happened.

A **tingling sensation** spread from his stomach outward, radiating through his limbs like a wave of warmth. Jason froze, feeling a strange tightness around his waist. His jeans, which were already snug after a day of indulgence, suddenly felt even tighter. His stomach rumbled—not from hunger, but from something else, something *different*.

He looked down in disbelief, his hand instinctively reaching for his midsection.

Jason blinked, his breath catching in his throat. He could feel it—his clothes were tighter, the waistband of his jeans digging into his belly, and his shirt was now stretching across his chest and stomach. He hadn’t imagined it. It was real. He’d just gained weight. Right there, in the span of a few seconds.

Santa, who had been watching him closely, broke into a warm grin.

“Magic cookies,” Santa explained, his voice as jolly as ever. “Each one makes you gain 10 pounds. I can see you’re starting to understand the magic now.”

Jason’s mouth went dry. “Wait... what?” He stepped back, his mind racing. “You mean... this is real? I just gained 10 pounds in like... a minute?”

Santa chuckled heartily, his belly shaking. “Indeed. Those cookies are no ordinary sweets, my boy. They come from the North Pole, crafted in the heart of the workshop, and they’re a part of my gift for those on the naughty list.”

Jason’s mind was spinning. "But why? Is this your way of punishing me?"

Santa waved his hand dismissively, his eyes gleaming. “No, no, it’s not about punishment. It’s about balance. You’ve been living with too much stubbornness, too much defiance. These cookies are a way to teach you a little lesson about... well, about how good things can come from unexpected places.”

Jason stared at him, still not fully comprehending what was happening. His belly was already feeling heavier, the pressure of the extra weight making him uncomfortably aware of his body. He could feel it in his limbs, in his posture—the slight shift in his center of gravity, the tightness of his clothes.

“So... every cookie I eat—what, I get fatter?” Jason asked, incredulous.

Santa gave him a knowing look. “Not just fatter, my boy. You gain weight in a way that mirrors the choices you make. Each bite reflects the way you approach life, and how much you’re willing to let go of your pride, your ego, and embrace something a little more... *sweet*.”

Jason looked at the plate in his hands. The other cookies were so tempting, so warm, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to keep going down this strange, magical rabbit hole. He’d already felt the effects of the first bite. His jeans were visibly tighter, the waistband straining against the added weight. He could feel his stomach protruding a little more, his face flushed as he glanced at Santa in confusion.

“Don’t worry,” Santa said softly, as if reading Jason’s mind. “You don’t have to eat them all at once. But you should know—you *will* feel the effects. If you keep eating, your body will change. But it’s your choice, Jason. You’re not forced to indulge in the magic if you don’t want to.”

Jason swallowed hard, looking down at the cookie in his hand, then back up at Santa. There was something undeniably *inviting* about it. He wasn’t sure why, but it felt like the right thing to do in the moment. Maybe he could let go of his defiance, even if just for a while. Maybe he could try something new, something he’d never considered before.

“Just one more,” he muttered to himself, almost against his better judgment.

Santa gave him an approving nod. “Ah, good choice. A small step toward a new understanding. Go ahead.”

Jason, a mix of curiosity and temptation swirling in his chest, picked up another cookie. This time, he didn’t hesitate. He bit into it, feeling the warmth and the magic all over again.

Almost immediately, the tingling sensation returned, this time more intense. His stomach seemed to expand as if it were a balloon being inflated. His pants, which were already tight, seemed to fit even more snugly around his hips. His chest felt fuller, as though his body were adjusting to the new weight with an almost *unnatural* rapidity.

He wasn’t sure if it was the magic or his own choices catching up with him, but as the pressure in his belly increased, Jason could only stare at Santa with wide eyes.

“Okay, that’s... that’s enough,” Jason said, trying to steady himself as his balance shifted. But even as he spoke, the strange sense of satisfaction grew stronger. He felt fuller, heavier, but oddly more *content* than he’d ever felt in his rebellious, defiant existence.

Jason looked down at himself. He didn’t know how much weight he’d gained this time, but the sensation was undeniable. He couldn’t ignore the tightness in his shirt or the weight of his stomach. It was clear that he was becoming a different version of himself with every bite, both physically and, in some strange way, emotionally.

“You’ve learned a lot tonight,” Santa said, his voice kind but firm. “But remember—there’s always room for change. Christmas can be magic, but only if you let it.”

Jason stared at the remaining cookies on the plate, still warm and tempting. His stomach was already uncomfortably full, and he could feel the pressure in his waistband increasing with every passing second. He was getting heavier, and each bite seemed to make the weight more apparent, pushing against his clothes, straining his chest, and making him feel like his body was no longer his own.

He looked up at Santa, who was watching him with that infuriatingly knowing grin, as though he’d anticipated Jason’s every move.

“I think I’m done,” Jason muttered, trying to push the plate away. The first two cookies had been enough—too much, in fact. He was starting to regret even eating the first one, feeling the weight settle around his stomach and chest. But the strange part was... he didn’t *hate* it.

His belly groaned beneath his shirt, a reminder of the two cookies already devoured. It was so full now that the idea of eating any more seemed impossible. Yet, there was something about the air in the room that made him hesitate. It was as if there was an invisible pull toward the cookies, a magnetic force he couldn’t quite explain.

“No more cookies for me, Santa,” Jason said firmly, setting the plate on the coffee table, but even as he spoke, his stomach rumbled loudly, almost as if protesting his decision.

Santa chuckled softly, stepping forward with a gleam in his eye. “Oh, Jason. I think you *might* be mistaken.”

Jason's brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Santa placed a finger on his chin thoughtfully. Then, in a flash, he poked Jason’s belly—just a light tap, right on the soft, bloated area just below his ribs.

**Poke!**

Jason gasped. The instant Santa’s finger made contact with his stomach, a strange sensation flooded his body. His belly seemed to *deflate* for a second. It wasn’t just that the pressure lessened—it was like the food had disappeared. The bloating, the fullness, it all seemed to vanish in an instant, leaving him feeling... strangely empty.

And then, the hunger hit.

A powerful wave of gnawing emptiness swept over him. His stomach growled, louder than before, a deep, almost painful rumble that seemed to echo in the quiet room. Jason’s eyes widened in shock as the hunger intensified, his gut aching with the need for more food. The pangs were so loud, so insistent, that they drowned out everything else around him.

Jason's hand went instinctively to his stomach, clutching at the fabric of his shirt as if he could somehow keep the sensation at bay. But the hunger didn’t stop. It was as if his body was screaming for food, his insides hollow, desperate for more.

“What the hell—?” Jason breathed, his voice shaking.

Santa just watched him, still grinning, his arms crossed over his chest. “I warned you, Jason. Every bite of these magic cookies does more than just fill your stomach. It changes how you feel. It alters your desires. And now... you can’t stop. You *need* another bite.”

Jason’s hands trembled as he looked at the plate, the third cookie sitting there innocently, just waiting for him to take it. His mind screamed at him not to do it. He didn’t want to eat another cookie. Not now, not after what had already happened.

But the hunger... the gnawing, relentless hunger in his gut... It wouldn’t stop. His body wanted it. Desperately.

“No...” Jason muttered, shaking his head. “I don’t need another cookie. I *don’t*.”

But the moment he said it, the hunger seemed to intensify. His stomach growled so loudly it nearly rattled his ribcage. The pressure returned in full force, and before he knew it, Jason was hunched over, clutching his stomach as if he could somehow stop it.

Santa watched him for a moment longer, his eyes full of knowing mischief. “I think it’s time for the third one, Jason. The hunger can’t be ignored, no matter how much you try.”

Jason’s resistance was faltering. He didn’t want to eat, didn’t want to give in to this strange magic. But his body was betraying him. He was too hungry, too empty, and the cookies were too close.

In a moment of weakness, Jason reached for the third cookie. It felt like an almost automatic response, his hand moving before his mind could even catch up. He didn’t want to, but his body needed it. Desperately.

Santa’s grin widened as Jason took the cookie and, without a second thought, bit into it.

As soon as the warm cookie hit his tongue, Jason could feel it—more than just the sweet flavor. His body reacted instantly. The warmth spread through him like a shock, and that empty sensation he’d felt only moments ago vanished, replaced with an overwhelming fullness. But this time, the fullness was different. It felt deeper. He could feel his stomach stretching, his pants tightening around his waist, and yet... it wasn’t painful. It was almost *comfortable*, in a strange, indulgent way.

Jason’s shirt grew tighter as he chewed, his chest expanding slightly with every bite. He could feel the extra weight settling on his body, his stomach swelling visibly beneath his shirt. With each bite, it was like he was ballooning outward, the weight accumulating rapidly.

He didn’t even notice how much he’d eaten, how much his body had changed until he looked down. His stomach, already soft and heavy, was now noticeably larger, pushing against the waistband of his jeans. His shirt strained to cover the growing mound of flesh beneath it, and the tightness in his pants was unmistakable.

Santa observed the transformation, his eyes gleaming with approval. “There it is, Jason. Just let go. Embrace it.”

Jason’s hands gripped his belly as if to hold the weight in place, but it was no use. He had given in. The hunger had won.

But something else was happening now. Jason felt a strange, euphoric warmth spreading through his body. It wasn’t just the cookies that were filling him; it was the feeling of *acceptance*. He could almost hear the soft hum of magic surrounding him, as though the cookies had done more than just make him fat. They had somehow made him *feel* full—complete.

Jason swallowed, feeling the heaviness in his stomach, and for the first time, he felt something that wasn’t just hunger or defiance. He felt... *satisfied*.

Jason had barely finished the third magic cookie when he felt an overwhelming shift in his body. At first, it was subtle—just a slight tightness in his stomach, like it had been stretched to its limits. But it didn’t stop there.

The first thing Jason noticed was the pressure around his midsection. His jeans, which had already been snug before, felt almost painfully tight now, digging into his waist. His stomach, once slightly bloated from the previous cookies, had ballooned out significantly, pushing against the fabric of his shirt, the soft fabric straining to contain his expanding form.

His chest had broadened too, his ribcage seeming to expand with every breath. As he looked down, his belly had swollen outward, a soft but firm mound of flesh that jutted noticeably past his waistline. The buttons of his shirt were pulling at the seams, and the waistband of his jeans was digging into his lower belly, the skin a little pink from the pressure. He could almost feel the weight accumulating beneath his hands as they hovered over the growing mass.

Each intake of breath made him acutely aware of how much he had consumed, and the feeling of fullness washed over him in waves. His belly had become an undeniable presence now, a heavy, rounded expanse that clung tightly to his body. It was as if every inch of his skin was occupied by this new weight, the feeling of it seeping into his legs, his arms, his chest. He wasn’t sure how much he had gained in total, but it was clear that his body had changed significantly with each magical bite.

But as he sat there, dazed from the strange magic, he realized that the hunger still hadn’t fully left him. His stomach rumbled again—louder, deeper than before. It was like a growl that reverberated through his entire body, leaving him feeling *empty* despite the vast amount of food he’d just consumed.

And then, before he could even process what was happening, Santa raised his hand with a knowing smile. The plate of cookies seemed to levitate, the two remaining gingerbread men sliding across the table toward Jason.

Jason blinked. “Wait, what?” he said, still reeling from the effects of the last three cookies. But it was too late—the cookies were already in his hands, as if they’d been beckoned by some invisible force.

Santa's voice was calm, his tone warm. “You didn’t think it would stop at three, did you, Jason? The magic works in ways you can't predict, but now that you're here, it's almost a part of you. Go ahead... just one more bite.”

Jason’s hands trembled as he held the cookie in front of him. The pressure in his stomach was intense, a reminder of the weight he was already carrying. The thought of eating another one should have made him want to stop, but that gnawing emptiness still lingered in his gut, an insatiable, magnetic pull. His eyes traced the cookie’s edges, the sugary glaze gleaming in the soft glow of the Christmas lights. It was impossible to ignore.

Without fully realizing what he was doing, Jason took the first bite of the fourth cookie. His body immediately reacted, that same sensation flooding through him—the warmth, the magic, the sense of immediate satisfaction, and yet, at the same time, a deepening hunger.

His stomach seemed to lurch, pushing outward with the added weight. The softness of his belly was now undeniable, the expanse of flesh that had once been confined beneath his shirt now visible as it pressed outward, expanding beneath his hands.

Santa watched him, still smiling. "The magic doesn’t just fill you—it *changes* you, Jason. Every bite is a step toward something new. Something different.”

Jason couldn’t speak as the second cookie was placed into his hands. This time, he didn’t hesitate. He bit into it almost greedily, as if his body needed it. The flavor hit him all at once��spicy, sweet, with a warmth that spread from his mouth to his belly.

And as soon as the cookie entered his system, he felt the unmistakable weight of it.

His belly, already massive from the previous cookies, grew further—his stomach expanding with a slow but undeniable pressure. The tightness around his waist was almost unbearable, the waistband of his jeans digging in, as if threatening to burst. His shirt stretched across his chest, pulling tight over the soft, swollen mound of his stomach. The feeling of fullness had become almost overwhelming, as though his body had reached its absolute limit.

And yet, it wasn’t over.

Jason felt a deep, parched thirst suddenly wash over him. His throat felt dry, his mouth cottony. The hunger had finally receded, replaced by an almost desperate need for something to drink.

Without thinking, Jason reached for the glass of whole milk Santa had left on the table. The cool, white liquid seemed like the only thing that could quench the fire in his throat.

He brought the glass to his lips and began drinking, each gulp feeling like it was soothing something inside him. The cold milk seemed to settle in his stomach, cooling the heat from the cookies, and for a brief moment, he felt a little relief. But as he drank, his stomach continued to react to the magic in his body.

The pressure inside him was no longer just physical. His body was growing heavier with each swallow, his stomach expanding and stretching with the milk, the cookies, and the magic working its way through him. The fullness in his body wasn’t just in his belly anymore—it was in his arms, his legs, his chest. Jason could feel the weight of it spreading through him, sinking into his bones, his skin. He was *growing* with every bite, every gulp.

The milk, thick and rich, slid down his throat easily, but with every swallow, he could feel the weight of the magic pushing him further, making him feel more bloated, more *filled*. His body felt like it was expanding not just with food, but with *everything*. The magic was seeping into every part of him.

Finally, after Jason finished the milk, he let the glass slip from his hand. His stomach was so full now that it felt like it might burst. He leaned back into the couch, the weight of his belly pressing against his legs. He was *huge*—his shirt now clung to his swollen stomach, unable to cover the full expanse. His pants, once comfortably snug, now felt like they were cutting into his flesh. The waistband dug painfully into his soft belly, the fabric stretching in ways it wasn’t meant to. He couldn’t even move without feeling the tightness, the heaviness in every part of him.

Santa watched all of this unfold, a satisfied look on his face. “You’re learning, Jason. The magic isn’t about controlling you; it’s about showing you how to embrace what’s already inside of you.”

Jason could barely focus on Santa’s words, his mind fogged by the overwhelming sensation of his body. His stomach was so distended, so *full*, that all he could do was sit there, helpless against the pull of the magic. The once rebellious, defiant Jason had surrendered to it, his body irrevocably changed, his appetite insatiable.

Jason let out a loud, unintentional burp as he leaned back into the couch, the pressure in his overstuffed stomach making the sound escape from him. It was so loud, so sudden, that it echoed in the quiet room, a perfect, embarrassing punctuation to the magical meal he had just consumed.

"Excuse me," he muttered sheepishly, though a part of him was too full and too dazed to really care about the manners he normally would’ve worried about. His stomach was so large now that the idea of sitting up or moving was almost laughable. Every inch of his body felt stretched, as though he was on the verge of bursting from the sheer volume of food he had taken in.

Santa chuckled at the sound, an amused glint in his eyes as he looked at Jason’s swollen form. The old man’s gaze shifted down to Jason’s belly, now a soft, round mound pressing against his shirt. It was clear that Jason had eaten well—too well—and now, he was feeling the full force of that magic.

Jason sighed deeply, rubbing his hands over his belly as it grumbled, still not fully content despite the massive intake. It wasn’t just a growl anymore, it was an ache—one that he couldn’t ignore, no matter how much he tried to distract himself.

"I’m... I’m going to go back upstairs to bed," Jason muttered, his voice thick from the fullness in his stomach. He could feel the weight of the cookies pressing down on him, and though he had no desire to move, he knew he had to. His body felt like it had been stretched to its limits, and sleep seemed like the only reprieve from the intense pressure he felt within.

Santa grinned, watching Jason shift uncomfortably on the couch. "You’re going to need a little more than just bed to recover from all this magic, Jason."

Before Jason could protest, Santa’s gloved hand reached out and poked Jason’s bloated stomach lightly. The action was playful, but the effect was instant. Jason gasped, his belly jumping at the poke, a shudder of sensation running through him. The pressure that had been building seemed to momentarily *shift* as his belly responded, like a balloon inflating and deflating under his shirt.

“Alright, alright, I get it,” Jason said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll try to be better next year. But… can I just go to bed now? I feel like I’m going to explode.”

Santa stood up, his merry eyes twinkling as he patted Jason gently on the belly, a soft tap that felt like the final nudge to keep him in place. “You’ve done enough, Jason. Just remember—next year, you’d better be on the nice list if you want to avoid more *magic cookies*. The world can only handle so much Christmas spirit, you know.”

Jason gave a tired but sincere nod, rubbing his now-aching belly. “Yeah, yeah… I’ll be good, I promise.”

With that, he pushed himself slowly to his feet, feeling the weight of his stomach shift as he stood, and made his way toward the stairs. Every step was a little slower than usual, his body heavy, swollen, and full. But it was Christmas, after all. He had indulged in the magic, and now, all he wanted was to sleep it off.

Before he disappeared up the stairs, he turned to glance back at Santa, who was still standing by the tree, watching him with that playful smile.

“Merry Christmas, Jason,” Santa said, his voice full of warmth.

Jason nodded, a smile tugging at his lips despite the discomfort. “Merry Christmas, Santa. And… thanks for the cookies.”

Santa’s eyes twinkled, his voice low and full of mirth. “Don’t mention it, kid. Just remember, no more naughty behavior next year.”

Jason was already regretting every bite as he made his way up the stairs. It wasn’t just the slow, lumbering pace of his steps, but the deep, weighted feeling of his body. Every movement felt heavier, every step more sluggish than the last. He had never felt so *slow* before. His legs seemed to protest with each step, the weight of the magic cookies settling into his body like a dense, unshakable fog.

Fifty extra pounds felt like a mountain on his frame—his stomach, still swollen from the five cookies and glass of milk, jutted out in front of him like a balloon. It was soft, round, and *massive*, and with every step he took, it seemed to pull down on him, making his movements even more labored. His shirt stretched uncomfortably across his chest, and his waistband was cutting into his belly, the fabric straining against the sheer size of him.

By the time he reached the top of the stairs, Jason was panting, exhausted from the simple effort of going up. He stopped in front of the bathroom mirror, his reflection hitting him like a slap.

The sight of himself was almost foreign—his once lean frame had been completely transformed. His belly now looked like it was carrying a small beach ball in it. His shirt clung tightly to his swollen gut, the fabric stretched to its limits. Jason’s chest had widened as well, and his arms, once muscular but lean, now seemed thick and heavy, filled with the extra weight that had accumulated over the course of the night. His pants, which used to fit comfortably, were now pinching at the waist, the fabric pulling tight against his thickened thighs and hips.

Jason stared at himself for a moment, taking it all in. His face looked rounder too, a soft flush of color on his cheeks, as if the weight had even settled there. His lips parted, a silent exhale escaping as he looked down at his bloated belly once more, still feeling the pressure build, almost as if he had more room to grow. The fullness inside him was so intense that he could hear his own stomach growling softly, even though he knew he couldn’t possibly eat another thing.

“God, this is insane,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head. The discomfort was real, but so was the strange sensation of satisfaction—like he’d just indulged in something he couldn't control. Magic had a way of making everything *feel* so much more intense. And now, he had no choice but to live with the results.

With a sigh, Jason turned away from the mirror, giving his stomach a gentle rub as if comforting the weight inside him. He felt his body shift, a slight jiggle in his belly as he moved toward his bedroom. It was impossible to ignore the strain on his clothes, or the constant pressure on his stomach, but there was nothing he could do about it now.

He collapsed onto his bed, the soft mattress groaning under his new weight. The cool sheets felt nice against his warm skin, but his stomach was too tight, too swollen to allow him to get comfortable. He shifted a bit, but his belly was so large now that it wouldn’t let him relax fully.

Just as he was about to close his eyes and try to forget about the strange night he’d had, a familiar scent wafted through the room. It was faint at first, but unmistakable—the sweet, warm smell of freshly baked cookies. Jason’s eyes popped open, his heart skipping a beat.

“No way…” he murmured, lifting his head from the pillow to sniff the air more intently. The scent was drifting in from somewhere. The familiar, inviting aroma of gingerbread, sugar, and spice. It wasn’t just in his mind, he could *smell* it.

Jason groaned, his stomach grumbling again, this time from something more than just fullness. It was that same deep, empty hunger he had felt earlier—magically induced, of course—but it was so overwhelming that he almost couldn’t fight it. His body *wanted* more.

His eyes darted toward the door, half-expecting Santa to appear, carrying another plate of magic cookies. He could already picture them—those warm, sugary treats, the kind that filled him with a sense of indulgence and the promise of more weight, more fullness.

The thought alone was enough to make him sit up, but the pressure in his belly made him stop. He didn’t know if he could take more, but the smell—*oh, the smell*—was so tempting, so irresistible.

He groaned and turned over onto his side, clutching at his belly, trying to settle himself down. *Not again,* he told himself. *I’ve had enough for one night.*

But the scent was still there. Faint, but lingering. And Jason realized, with a sinking feeling, that no matter how much he tried to ignore it, that magic had already sunk deep into his bones. It wasn’t just in his body—it was in his mind too.

With a frustrated sigh, Jason closed his eyes again, trying to push away the hunger, the pull of that magic.

But somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that the next time he smelled those cookies, he might not be able to resist. The thought made him shudder, even as he drifted off to sleep, his body still heavy and full, his stomach aching from the weight of what he had already consumed.

Part 2 will be posted on December 25th

#belly gainer #male gaining #gaining kink #christmasgains

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nemisuki · 2 months ago

Text

A Special Day

Dating AU | You never felt the need to celebrate this 'special' day every year. But time it's different, the first year with your explosive boyfriend. And seems like he thinks differently.

᧔o᧓ || Katsuki Bakugo x f!reader, no manga spoilers, no nsfw, pure fluff, no angst, aged up, oneshot, bkg is a softie, gift giving, 1.3k word count

"So do you have any plans tomorrow?"

The sound of his voice breaks the silence between you two. The only other noise being the scribbles of her pencil and flipping of paper.

Her eyes don't break away from the math problem in her notebook, the source of her misery for the past 10 minutes.

In response to his question, the girl exhales a short hum while erasing her failed attempt of multiplication, "Not really."

A small pout begins to form on her face as she concentrates on the equation.

What sane person puts letters in math?

Listening to her reply, his eyebrows furrow with slight confusion, his hand pausing from completing the assignment in front of him.

He takes this opportunity to pause his studies, leaning back in his chair to stretch his limbs.

A small sigh exiting his mouth as he stands up to lift his arms over his head to give relief to his aching muscles.

"It's your birthday, don't ya want a party or go out to eat?"

At his movement, she takes a peek in his direction.

Her gaze roaming his backside - noticing the outline of his back muscles from that tank top he's wearing.

The combination of his shirt and the grey sweatpants loosely hanging on his waist was deadly.

It's even worse that he is completely unaware of the effect it has on her.

Seeing him take a break gave her an excuse to do the same.

She props herself off his bed with her elbows, now sitting up on the edge of his mattress with a small yawn, "Not really. I don't usually celebrate it."

"Like at all?" he turns back to look at her, noting the aloof expression on her face.

"I mean maybe when I was younger but not anymore.”

He examines her body language intensely, only to find no signs of discomfort.

So she really doesn’t want to celebrate huh.

I mean he understands, he wasn’t one to care about his own birthday either.

He steps closer to plop down beside her, looking at the alarm clock on his bedside table, “we should call it a night.”

“Yeah I should head back to my dorm now” she smiles, looking at how the moonlight accentuates his features, only enhancing the vision beside her.

“Just sleep over” he mumbles, already moving to lay down on his bed. Making room for her as he scoots towards the wall.

“And your roommate?”

“Shitty hair said he’s crashing at Raccoon eyes dorm. So turn off the lamp and come over here yeah?”

She couldn’t help but to laugh at his blunt demands, reaching over to shut off the lamp then resting beside him in an instant.

There's no way she'll let an opportunity like this go to waste.

With that, the blonde drapes the blanket over the two, looking almost offended that she didn't wrap her hands around him like she always does.

He isn't one for physical touch but he's gotten used to hers.

She seems to feel his stare and immediately scoots closer to curl up beside him, leaning her face into his chest.

Thankfully dismissing all his dramatic thoughts in an instant.

He wraps his arms around her torso to hold her close, "Real tired. Gonna sleep now, night."

"Mhm good night 'suki. I love you" she whispers back, closing her eyes to relish in his warmth.

A feeling she loves all too well.

"....love you too" he replies after a few seconds. Before his eyes fall close, allowing himself to drown in the feeling of her presence.

Already knowing what he must do tomorrow.

✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ ⎯⎯ ✦

Her eyes squint in response to the distant sound of raining pattering outside the window.

The once dark room is now filled with morning light peeking through cracks in the curtain.

A groan escaping her as she rubs her eyes awake, attempting to fight the invisible force that's trying to pull her back to eternal sleep.

Though under the covers, she shivers at the chilly room she's woken up too. Expecting to be tangled under the covers with her favorite blonde, yet is only faced with an imposter - a pillow taking his place.

It takes her a few minutes of mindlessly staring at the ceiling for her to sit up, but only due to the sound of the door slowly creaking open.

His figure comes into view as he closes the door behind him, placing a mysterious bag on his desk as he takes off his coat and tucks his umbrella away, "You just woke up?"

"Yeah just now. Where'd you go?" she tilts her head, ruling out the option that he had class since he doesn't have his bag.

She stands up and begins approaching him but he holds his hand up, making her pause in her tracks.

"Close your eyes for a minute" he mumbles quietly, all of a sudden avoiding her questioning gaze.

Despite her confusion, she doesn't ask to investigate further as her eyes flutter shut.

"Don't peek or I'll kill ya."

An amused smile appears on her face at his snarky comment, "I won't but if you don't hurry up I might fall back asleep."

The sound of rustling was heard in the room, as well as a small clicking sound shortly after.

"Can I look now?"

"No."

"What about now?"

"I told you already, not yet!"

Laughter escapes her as she impatiently waits, fidgeting her fingers as she hears him step closer.

"...Alright you can open them now."

She hums and her eyes slowly open, slightly squinting to adjust to the light of the room once again.

Once done, she looks ahead of her and is met with an overwhelming sight. Complete shock taking over her face.

Bakugo is standing there, holding up a small birthday cake with lit candles on top.

Her heart thumps louder in her chest, so much so that it almost drowns out the noise of rain happening outside the room.

And she wonders if he can hear it too.

"I uh... know what you said yesterday but it just-" he holds the cake closer to her face, "didn't feel right to me."

Her gaze roams across the cake, pretty cursive letters in frosting spelling out 'Happy Birthday Y/N' on the surface. Along with her favorite pieces of fruit scattered around the edges.

"You didn't have to" she mumbles, a thankful smile taking over her face the more she stares at the cake.

"Well I wanted to. Now blow out the candles, nerd."

Holding back a laugh, she takes a moment to look at him, "Not gonna sing for me?"

"Hah! In your dreams maybe. Hurry up would ya? My arms getting tired here" he rolls his eyes at her teasing, the tip of his ears turning a soft pink from embarrassment.

She holds back a wide smile and blows out the candles before he grows more shy.

"What flavor is it?"

"You're favorite one, obviously" he huffs, stepping away to set the cake down on his desk.

As her gaze lingered on him, a sudden feeling took over her whole body.

She notices the small puddle forming under his wet shoes, a mini bouquet of her favorite flowers resting in a vase he must've bought earlier and a gift bag carefully placed on the sidelines.

Katsuki Bakugo hates the rain. Avoids it at all costs.

Yet he willingly went out in this downpour to buy her these things.

Ah....

"Oi do you want a one slice or-"

His words falter when her hands suddenly wrap around his waist from behind. Her face resting against his back, not wanting him to see as silent tears trickle down her cheeks.

"Thank you Katsuki."

He stays silent, feeling the back of his shirt grow damp from her quiet cries.

A sigh exits his mouth as he prys her hands away, spinning around to hold her close to his chest. Rubbing her back in gentle circles and whispering rare words of reassurance.

"Yeah yeah let it all out. I got ya" he mumbles, knowing exactly how to calm her down.

She just needs him there to hold her as he always does.

And he'll stick around - for her.

"Happy Birthday Y/N."

✦ ⎯⎯⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨ masterlist || taglist || intro || socials ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⎯⎯ ✦

A/N ||| hey hey everyone! It's actually my birthday today so I quickly wrote this up hehe. Sorry if it's a bit choppy, this was rushed. Anywaysss I finally made a taglist - so if you want to get tagged in my bakugo fics then click on this link!

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rafeandonlyrafe · 1 year ago

Text

obsession

words: 2.2k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, reader and rafe are both crazyyy, toxic relationship, rafe being a murderer but its canon, rafe breaks into readers house

taglist: @drewstarkeysbae @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @slut4drudy @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs

the noise has you sitting up suddenly in bed, ears straining for the same sound that pulled you out of a deep sleep. you sit there for a minute before letting out a breath and laying your head back against the pillow. maybe it was a raccoon knocking over your neighbors trash can, or a car backfiring.

either way, you think you're in the clear to head back into dreamland, until there's that noise again. glass shatters and this time you know it's not at your neighbors house, it's at your front door.

you sit frozen in fear, heartbeat pounding in your ears. it isn’t until the sound of your front door opening reaches you that you spring into action. you jump up out of bed, from under the safety of your covers. your eyes briefly scan the room as footsteps ascend up the stairs, like they know exactly what their target is, exactly where you are.

your choice is between under the bed and the closet, and when your doorknob begins to turn, your throw yourself onto the rug and roll under the bed. you cover your mouth as your door opens, heavy boots entering the room. you watch as they move right up to the bed, throwing the covers onto the floor, letting out a low curse you can barely make out when you’re not there.

you watch as the boots head over to the closet, ripping the doors open. you keep your hand over your mouth, afraid to breath too loudly. you watch as the boots move closer again, until a hand is suddenly clenching down on your arm, yanking you out from under the bed.

“there you are.” rafe says, smirking down at you from your spot on the floor, your back against the rug.

“rafe!” you say, half in fear, half in relief.

“get up.” he commands, but doesn’t even give you a chance to do it yourself, reaching down and tugging you into a standing position.

“wha-what are you doing?” you ask, pressing your hands against his chest, but not pushing him away. you and rafe have a confusing relationship. half the time his is head over heels infatuated with you, and the other half he is pretending like you don’t exist, like acting as if you're not there can quell his obsession. it breaks your heart, only for him to come back in a few days and put it back together.

“god, i’ve missed you.” rafe says, pulling you tight against his body, even as adrenaline causes you to shake, your mind going over what just happened. rafe broke into your house, because he missed you.

“rafe.” you pull yourself away from him, even as you find comfort in his hold. “you broke in!” “because i need you baby!” he says loudly, looking at you like you’re the one being unreasonable here. “and i’ll buy you a new door and get someone to install it tomorrow.”

“next time just knock, please.” you say, taking his face in your hands. “you scared me.”

“i’m sorry princess. can we cuddle, yeah?” you see the look in rafes eyes, a crazed look, that he’s not in his right mind. you’re not sure if he’s been taking drugs again or if he’s just in a bad mental state.

“yeah, come on.” you gesture to your bed, not sure what would happen if you say no, not that you ever deny rafe. he lays down as you pick your covers up from the floor. you snuggle up next to him, letting your breathing return to normal, wishing you didn’t feel the peace that you do when in his arms.

“what happened?” you ask, rubbing your hand over his chest.

“i-i did something terrible tonight.” rafe says, hand squeezing your hip. “i really fucked up. this is why i need to leave you alone, fuck. you deserve someone better than me.” “hey, hey, shh.” you say, giving a kiss to rafes jaw as he starts to get worked up again. “i can help fix it, if you’d just tell me whats going on.” “no, i can’t. you can never know, you’d never look at me the same again.” rafe says, the emotion in his eyes replaying the horror of whatever happened.

“come on rafe, it’s not like you killed someone.” you say with a chuckle, but rafe is quiet. far, far too quiet.

“what the actual fuck, rafe?” you sit up in your bed, looking down at him as a tear falls down his cheek. “rafe, fucking talk!”

“i did it to save my dad.” rafe says, rubbing his hand over your thigh. “i had to, okay? and i need you to trust me about that.”

“rafe, who did you kill?” you ask, grabbing his hand and squeezing it tightly.

“sheriff peterkin.” rafe mumbles under his breath, but you make it out clear enough.

“you killed the fucking sheriff?” you scream, moving to get out of bed, but rafe stops you, pulling you back against him. “rafe, let me go!”

“shh, shh, baby, let me talk, okay?” rafe says, caging you tight against his body, restricting your movements. you stare up at rafe expectantly as he presses you into the mattress. “i had to. i didn’t want to. i had to. or she would have shot my dad, okay?” “why would peterkin shoot your dad?” you ask.

“it’s a long fucking story, but i need you to trust me, baby girl. i can’t have you hating me too. okay? i love you too much, so you’re gonna just be fucking calm. you’re not gonna scream, right?” rafe asks. you give a little nod. you know it’s stupid, you shouldn’t trust rafe, but you do. maybe it’s your foolish love for him blinding you to his flaws, or what they’ve awakened inside of you.

rafe lets go of you, flipping so he’s lying on his back. you curl on your side next to him, placing a hand on his stomach. “i’m scared, rafe.” “i know. this is why i try to force myself to leave you alone.” “you hurt me even more when you do that.” you say with a frown, thinking of all those times, after weeks of being happy together, of getting along, when rafe will suddenly ignore you at a party or stop answering your calls.

“i’m so sorry.” rafe takes a deep breath. “i need your help though. i need you… i need you to tell the police i was here all day, with you. they would believe you.” “okay.” you say in a whisper, “i can do that for you rafey, just no more secrets, no more trying to push me away.” “promise, princess.” rafe pulls you in so he can give you a soft kiss on the lips. “it’s us against the world now.” “i love you rafey.” you tell him honestly.

“oh, my perfect girl.” rafe rubs your side, hand slipping under your pajama shirt. “i don’t deserve you.” “stop, don’t say that.” you say, eyes fluttering clothed as his hand moves up and down against your bare skin.

“it’s true, i don’t. you’re too perfect, too forgiving. you’ve let me hurt you so much and then still take me back.”

“no more hurting, then.” you say, moving so you’re straddling rafe. “no more hurting me. you wanna be with me, you have to let me in, stop pushing away.” “promise.” rafe says, looking up at you lovingly. you’re not sure if you believe him. he’s never once proven that he can stop hurting, stop betraying, but you’re willing to give him another chance, and another and another.

“now let me take care of you, yeah? apologize for giving you a fright and for hurting you.” rafe says, placing his hands on your hips, rubbing and squeezing them.

“yeah.” you nod, eyes fluttering closed as he presses you down, against his abs. rafe knows the way to truly calm you down, to truly get you to forgive him.

“look at you.” rafe laughs as you begin to grind yourself down against him. “already cockdrunk, silly baby.” “c’mon.” you say with a whimper, wanting what rafe promised, wanting him to take care of you.

rafe flips you suddenly, hovering over you with a laugh. rafe pushes your shirt up to under your chest, the sensitive skin of you stomach on display. rafe drops down, kissing along your skin. “i love you so much.” rafe says.

“i love you too.” you whisper, tugging rafe up so he can give you a real, proper kiss. your lips connect, and you instantly moan into his mouth as his mouth dominates yours. “please fuck me.”

“let me eat you out first baby.” rafe nuzzles his nose against yours, but you pout.

“you can eat me out in the morning. i want your cock. now.” you demand, usually not pushing rafe like this and going along with whatever he says, but he owes you right now, so he works his pants down his legs while you take off your pajama bottoms, revealing you’re not wearing underwear. rafe smiles, the wetness on your pussy shining in the low lighting.

“take this as my apology for scaring you.” rafe pushes his cock inside of you, making you cry out from the stretch, briefly regretting not letting him open you up more with his tongue or fingers until he starts to move, his warm cock searing your insides.

“so good.” you whine, spreading your legs to give rafe more room to move as he begins to snap into you. you look up at your man, a look of concentration on his face, and your heart beats faster knowing what he just confessed.

it’s not like you ever thought rafe was a good guy, at no point in your relationship did he hide the darkest parts of himself, the jealous, devious parts that contracted your good girl exterior, but what rafe never expected was to bring out the dark side in you as well.

you push rafe off, not wanting to look at his face anymore. maybe then you’ll get a sense of decency back, your morality about not letting a murderer fuck you right after confessing, but you turn on your hands and knees and present your ass for him, and you know there’s no going back.

rafe quickly repositions and enters you, his hands tight on your hips as he lets out all of his frustrations, the loud smack of his skin hitting your ass ringing out in the room.

he moves so quick you feel like your entire body could catch on fire as your high builds, needing that final touch on your clit that you know rafe isn’t going to give until he’s ready.

“so good for me baby, this is why i can never leave you.” rafe moans, tossing his head back as he pumps himself inside of you, keeping a steady rhythm as you squeeze your cunt around his cock. “i tell you i killed someone and you spread your pretty legs for me, let me in this perfect pussy.”

rafe bends over your back so his mouth is right next to your ear. “you’re a dirty fucking slut, but you’re mine.” he growls.

your arms collapse under the pressure, rafe straightening back up as your cheek presses into the mattress. rafe thrusts even harder now, determined to utterly exhaust both of you so you can pass out and worry about the consequences in the morning.

“perfect. fucking. girl.” rafe groans, accentuating each word with a thrust. you moan indeterminately, letting him know just how good it feels as his fingers leave bruises from how tight he’s gripping your skin, yet another mark that rafe cameron is going to leave on you, not all of them visible, but you wouldn’t trade back the trauma for anything if it means being with him.

you muster up all the strength that you can, forcing your body to move even as it cries out to give in, to give up, but you push yourself back up, making rafe lose balance as he falls back on the bed.

you turn so you can see his face as you sink onto his cock. “you’re mine too.” you remind him, bucking your hips as you ride rafe, ignoring the burn in your thighs. “don’t fucking forget it.”

you bend down, using your entire body to move back on his cock, bouncing and grinding in a frantic rhythm. “and never leave me again. never keep shit from me.” rafe looks up at you in awe, reaching a hand to tangle in your hair as he pulls you into an intense kiss, a clash of biting teeth and slipping tongues.

“i fucking love you.” rafe groans against your mouth as you clench around him, feeling his cock swell inside of you, signaling he’s close.

you sit back up, bringing a hand to your pussy, working your clit with two fingers as you keep bouncing, letting yourself go when you feel rafes hips push up against yours, releasing his cum inside of your heat. you slump forward as you climax, moaning into rafes chest.

“baby, you are something else.” rafe rubs a hand over your back as you come down from your orgasm, keeping sat on his cock, not wanting to give it up just yet.

“mmm, you brought out something in me.” you say, turning to press a kiss to his chest. “and you can’t just take it back now.”

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hipsdofangirl · 2 months ago

Text

lucky numbers

time/dimension traveler! seungcheol x reader

summary: you work as a gas station attendant and cover your coworker’s night shift.

genre: lowkey crack fic or premise, sci-fi mixed with modern au, kind of deep themes mentioned, angst end, implied fem reader but can be gender neutral, lowercase intended

notes: i forget how some aspects of the lottery works just bear with me—. not proofread as always

wc: 2.9k

you’re not sure if this was worth it. you’ve seen the video games, the movies, the tv shows, and hell even the news; working, by yourself, at your small town’s local gas station is foreshadowing trouble. unfortunately, the only sound besides the late-night radio station is the tv with static crackling your eardrums.

sitting at the counter, you glance at the clock’s hands, seeing only an hour has passed since you started your shift.

you scratch your scalp out of disbelief of your character: a people-pleaser who can only hope the frat guy you exchanged shifts with will follow through when you are in need.

the tv static scratches your ears, your fingers move to cover and rub the flabby lobes as if it will heal them.

you glance around wearily, before bending over, using the crappy metal swivel chair as balance, to pick up a remote that lays under the counter. without looking above, you aim the remote upwards and turn it off, static fizzling into the air.

you let out a sigh of relief for your eardrums and sanity. you set down the remote and angle it back as if it looks like you never touched it. then, you lift your body up to sit on the chair once again, and slouch.

your eyes flicker over the clock, seeing not even 10 minutes have passed since you last checked. you look outside the windows, scanning the pothole infested pavement for any customers or potential perpetrators.

with nothing in site, you swivel off the chair and walk into the workers-only side room, which is also behind the counter.

you sit down at the desk, staring at your reflection on the black screen. with a purse of your lips, you push the button on the side to turn it on. the machine is advertised as being a ‘fast actor’ for its generation, but you pray it can improve. your nails methodically tap the desk in a rhythm as you wait.

you observe the break room, peering into the women’s bathroom. since you were the only one working till morning, you just left it open in case of an emergency.

four separate screens then emerge on the single monitor, positioned for maximum security.

a white light—brighter than the fake LED ones—zaps across the screen.

you raise your brows in confusion; as out of the corner of your eye, you were able to see the store counter. you saw no ‘zapping’.

the machine then goes back to normal—or at least what it looked like when your boss showed you how to use it.

then you hear it: rustling as if a raccoon broke into your trash and words being whispered.

you freeze. how the hell did someone get in without you knowing? it hasn’t been that long since you left the front counter and even if it had the security cameras would have shown it right?

you go to push yourself up when your mind begins playing possible tricks on you: what if it’s not a customer? the noises sound very close to the register. why would they be quiet if their frantic muttering admits they have some level of anger issues? what if it’s a burglar?

slowly, arms frozen in midair as if once you rest onto something everything will collapse, you turn in the chair as much as you can. carefully, and in tune with the fight or flight senses, you stand up, the chair creeks a tiny bit and you pause in a squat stance.

the rustling still persists. you take this as a sign that you are still clear. leaning on the locker, your fingers curl around the handle of a metal bat your boss praises for its good luck it brought him; if only it can bring you luck now.

you tip toe your way to the doorway, slowly peeking out from behind the halfway closed door.

your suspicions were somewhat accurate: someone was and is up at front counter and spitting words at himself. at the same time, his fingers flick through slips of lottery tickets; after a few slips, he runs his thumb under his tongue for a better grip before continuing his search.

your hold on the bat doesn’t drop it but you don’t tighten it either.

instead, you push open the side door with a creek. “what are you doing?”

the man’s eyes widen as he snaps his attention toward you.

you then get a better look at the built man. you squint your eyes at his creamsicle colored hair and weird clothing.

the man goes to open his mouth but you interrupt him. “you know what. whatever ritual you seem fit, i do not judge.”

he closes his mouth, and you notice his eyes narrowed in guilt or distrust. you follow his eyes to your own hand. you look back up at him and walk back towards your chair, bat dragging across the floor; your boss is going to kill you when he finds the scrape marks on the floor and bat, you could only hope this hot stranger might get you first. if you were going to die might as well go out looking all cool.

as you sit, basically in front of him, he man huffs and scans over the available selections’ pictures. his arms tense and you observe the prominent veins in his arms bulge.

immediately going into work mode and therefore relaxing (out of sleep deprivation you don’t quite understand), you use your free hand to point to the options. “lately this brand hasn’t been in the news at all for any jackpot earnings across the state, so if i were you, i would pick this one.”

he grumbles under his breath and waves you off. instead, he goes the brand you wouldn’t pick at all.

you wince at his standoffish-ness and choice. “i don’t know about that brand, sir. that one just had a massive winning so it’s unlikely—“

“17 08 04 30 95,” he interrupts, still scrounging through the stack.

you blink and stare at him. “excuse me?”

“you’re excused.” he smirks and laughs to himself, appearing proud of his comeback.

your chin drops down in bewilderment and in subtle offense. his laughter dies off awkwardly as he glances at your lackluster reaction.

he clears his throat. “sorry.”

you tap your fingers on the edge of the bat’s handle, dipping your head down and finding more appreciation to your decaying shoes. you can’t wait for this jerk-wad to leave.

you can feel his eyes glance over at your form frequently.

he clears his throat again. you don’t give him attention. it’s too late—or well early for this—and his attitude dampened your mood.

he softly talks, “those are the numbers i’m looking for.”

you turn your head so only one of your eyes can watch him.

“lucky numbers or something? that’s a lot of them and i doubt all of them would be there,” you sluggishly replied.

he lets out a sigh and rests his hands on the counter, leaning into your space a bit. “it’s..complicated. i need to buy that one before someone else does.”

you glance at the clock, seemingly no time has moved since you last took note of the hands.

you raise your brow, subconsciously leaning closer to him. you feel your cheeks become warmer—from his breath and the proximity.

your own sigh melts into his. “tomorrow, we are supposed to put out the recent shipment…” his polished brown eyes meet yours with a gaze you can’t understand at the moment. you hesitate, “i can grab out the brand you want and maybe—just maybe it’s there somewhere.”

he whispers, a plea embedded within, “that would be lovely.”

you whisper back, “okay.”

you back up from him to stand up, just processing that during this conversation you began to turn the circular metal through your fingers.

before you can enter the worker’s room, you glance at the ceiling corner, waiting for the blinking red light on the camera to blink in. it never did.

you saunter through the worker’s room with shaking hands. your mind fumbles through what the actual hell just happened.

a hot guy appears in the connivence store at odd hours in the morning and doesn’t seem to be a druggie with those types of clothes—in fact you can’t even imagine where those clothes would have came from. the man is rapidly searching through a specific brand of lottery tickets and only looking certain numbers in a certain order.

you don’t even realize you’re grabbing the box with the latest shipment.

and why are you so willing to help him? out of fear, arousal, drowsiness, or familiarity?

you briskly walk back to him, not noticing a blinking red light perpetually turned on in the women’s bathroom.

you enter the front to see the guy pacing towards the front doors, scanning outside and talking to something on his shoulder.

“here it is.” you toss the box lightly on the counter.

the loud noise causes the man to jump, his arms flexing to protect himself as he makes himself somewhat smaller.

you laugh at the sight: a grown buff man being scared from a loud noise. you glance into the dark tree-line, realizing that he still is a person.

you cover your mouth with your hand, hiding a soft smile. “i’m sorry about that.”

he straightens up and presses his head into his shoulder, saying something you can’t quite distinguish before strolling back over to you.

he runs his fingers through his hair, dissipating the small pout that previously formed.

“a rough night—“ he meets your disheveled gaze, “for both of us it seems.”

you blow air through your nose. “don’t even get me started.”

he laughs, peeks of his gums entering your sight, causing your smile to widen a bit more.

he then gestures towards the taped box. “can you or do you want me to?”

“oh! no, no i got this! i would be buried even further if i let you open this along with getting access to it,” you ramble.

you grab an army knife that rested under the counter and flick it open. the man��s eyes widen in awe as he watches you slice open the tape along its crease.

you flick the blade back into place and set it on the doubter to your side as you peel back the cardboard lid, the man hovering over it as well. holding your breath, the sight of many slips you expected to be there cause you to release it. unknowingly, leading to your head bumping against the man’s.

you both reel back, touching your foreheads in sync as you both apologize.

you then apprehensively look at one another, gesturing to dig their hands in first: he won. rolling your eyes, you fingers stretch to grasp as many lottery tickets as you can. you take the bundle out of the box and set it to the side, gearing up for another pickup as you watch the man’s arms flex once again as he picked up his own stack.

“what were the numbers again?” you ask, ready to help him search.

the man blinks. “you don’t have to help out, i’m just glad you were able to find these for me.”

you wave him off with a laugh. “it benefits me so i can possibly stay at this piece of shit job for longer.”

his eyes gloss over and he purses his lips. “why do you stay here?”

you flick through the slips—not telling him you remember some of the numbers and not wanting to seem like a creep. “i can’t apply to any other job right now. this place doesn’t even cover my rent and i want to walk out here at any moment—“

“but you can’t bring yourself to? scared of the unknown?” he interrupts.

you hum. “maybe,. well i don’t think so.”

his eyes watch over your form as he pauses in his own search. “let me rephrase that. scared of the unknown and possibly leading to being seen as a disappointment?”

you pout your lips. “17 08 04..?”

his eyes still look for continuation of the conversation, but your shut down prompts him to go along by your rules.

“does it have 30 and 95 at the end?” he inquires.

your brows furrow. “oh my god.” you flip the side over to him. “your entourage of lucky numbers actually came up!” you chuckle out of disbelief.

his eyes narrow in light anger. “i don’t have that many lucky numbers.”

you chuckle at his reaction and hand him the slip.

he scans the lottery ticket—front and back. “yep!” he pops the ‘p’.

your shoulders sag in relief. “i—wow i can’t believe they actually came up.”

he hums, still observing the ticket. “i knew it would, you still have the magical touch, (name).”

you laugh at his proclamation before stopping. you don’t wear name badges.

you clear your throat. “so what did you say your name was? since we went through this emotional moment together.”

his arm slowly drops down to the counter. that once expression-ate smile fades into a solemn one.

“se—sebastian,” he answers after a moment, not meeting your gaze.

you know he is lying, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything. he slides over the lottery ticket to you.

“write your name and turn it in first thing in the morning, okay?” he asks, that pleading undertone returns.

out of awkwardness of the situation and now wanting to be as far away from him as possible, you can only nod. you bite your lip.

out of spite, something does escape your lips. “can’t put your real name, sebastian?”

he sighs and tilts his head down, not meeting your gaze. “i’m already putting you into so much trouble by being next to you. i can’t let them hurt you even more. just trust me.”

for some reason, your eyelashes feel damp.

you whisper, “i’ll trust you.” you languidly clasp the lottery ticket, waiting for him to reach his hand out and clasp yours. he doesn’t.

he glances around, never looking at you. “sorry about the mess you’ll have to clean up…and i’m sorry. take this money and quit right now.” you wonder if he is crying as he rubs his cheeks with his arm. “that boss of yours is a piece of shit.”

you hug the slip, daring it not to be soaked with your tears.

the camera’s red light blinks on.

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turns out, that ticket was the jackpot winner: a whole 970 million dollars.

you didn’t think much when you turned it in. hell, you didn’t think much when you grabbed all your things and left the gas station in the middle of your shift. your boss called many times, berating you for leaving and threatening to ruin your life.

somehow, a few days later, the scheme of him installing and spying on the girls in their bathroom was revealed. when you watched the news segment on it—on the brand new tv you bought—it appeared to have been hidden in a spot you don’t even recognize; only someone who knew this was going to happen could have figured it out (obviously..).

you think back to that man every now and then. eventually, you believe you conjured him up and that the whole scenario was a dream or premonition; that theory doesn’t go far as you did win the lottery against all odds.

this reminds you of when you were retelling this dream to your friend, they brought up how you might have found a time or dimension traveler; since, according to them, lotteries are just a scheme to expose them.

⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°

“yah..that was really risky coupsie,” jeonghan mumbles under his jacket, covering his mouth to shield him from the cold.

scoups—or rather sebastian or seungcheol—kicks a pebble for some form of control.

“you told me that we didn’t need to let that lottery ticket fall into that asshole’s hands, and i didn’t,” seungcheol retorts.

jeonghan sighs, a puff of air flowing through the fabric. “yes, that was the mission. but you just had to see your partner—or well this universe’s version of them.”

seungcheol scoffs. “like you weren’t the one that redirected the shipment to their workplace.”

jeonghan giggles with a smirk, face molding into his chest as far as it can. “that wasn’t me. that was shuji—“

“don’t bring me into this.” joshua walks past the open doorway where the other oldest are conversing.

jeonghan clicks his tongue.

the second oldest now directs his attention to his friend. “well now you are their dream man, maybe when this universe’s version of you runs into them, something of recognition will spark.”

seungcheol looks away. “yeah recognition of fear and anger.” he rubs his temples, squeezing his eyes shut. “ahh, i can’t even think of this universe’s-me getting his shit beat out of him for something i did.”

jeonghan points out, “they never seem to have a mean bone in their body.”

seungcheol laughs. “this one does—i can tell when they hide it. it’s always the same habit of fiddling with something. i thought they were gonna snap when they brought out the baseball bat.”

jeonghan laughs and claps his sweater paws. “that was hilarious! i’ve never seen hoshi turn that pale when he tuned in when a loud slam reverberated through his ear piece!”

seungcheol cannot hide his proud smirk. “someone needed to give them a push—even if my life is at stake.”

the two travelers laugh together.

jeonghan’s smile softens toward his friend.

seungcheol continues, “if i can make this one’s life a little easier, i’ll do anything.”

a/n: remembered the whole tumblr post about the conspiracy about lotteries being traps for time travelers and had to write something. also mainly for @jcxbliss cause how they have been having a rough time at work.

also another scoups fic returns after i reached 2.5k likes?!??

as sad yet hopeful as the ending sounds, i hope this did make you feel better or cathartically worse. i did write this in two hours LOLOL

anyways have a good day/night! 🫶🫶

#seventeen x reader #seventeen #seventeen imagines #svt x reader #seventeen x you #svt x you #seventeen stables #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol x you #scoups x reader #scoups x you #kpop imagines #kpop ff #kpop x reader #kpop x you #time travel au #dimension travel au

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appleblueberry-pie · 8 months ago

Note

Im back with another yandere satoru request hehehe

So, I was wondereding what would happen if Satoru's beloved found out about his very unhealthy obession with her?

Hold on, lemme cook rq- So, instead of getting the fuck away from him (like most logical people would do) she decides to try her best to get him some help. Like, she'd confront him about his very distirbing behavior, (basically tearing down his entire facade and presenting it to him) and when he's begging her not to be afraid of him, not to abandon him, she tells him that she wants him to get help.

Heres where I kinda got a little stuck....the thing is...he would listen to her every beck and call, but would he really get the help he needs, or would he decieve her and trick her into beliving that he's getting better when in realitly he hasn't changed at all. (He's just alot more careful about what he does behind her back.)

Mkayyy, thats all folks. Thanks for coming to my ted talk.

You kept hearing noises from your backyard.

It woke you up. You couldn't really recognize what it was, but you really hoped it wasn't raccoons eating your berries again. You admit, your garden has many fruits and vegetables, but you certainly didn't want them being eaten. They took too long to grow! So, you got out of bed, threw on your robe over your night gown and quickly made your way downstairs to your backdoor.

When you opened the door and stepped onto the grass, everything seemed fine. Your strawberries were intact. Carrots still growing. No lemons dropped from the tree. But to the far right, you did see a familiar figure continuously puncturing another man's insides with a pretty dangerous looking knife thing.

Someone was in your yard.

Someone was being killed in your yard.

You're within distance of a killer.

By the time the realization set in, the familiar looking man had already saw you staring at him. It was Satoru Gojo.

You both stared at each other. It grew painfully silent and you took a step back, your eyebrows furrowing. You began hearing your heartbeat in your ears and began breathing faster. Your lips separated, probably to scream, and Satoru dropped the knife, immediately running over to you to shut you up in time.

When he trapped you in his arms, you tried to scream in surprise, but he already had one of his hands covering the entire bottom half of your face. "SHHHHHHHhhhhhh. shhhhhhhh. shhhhhh." His heartbeat thumped against your upper back and you tried to look up at him. He was already staring down at you with those big blue eyes and you tried to take his hand off of your mouth. "It's okay, baby. You're alright. It's alright."

Well, he didn't kill you, so clearly you didn't have to be scared. You still tried to talk and he tilted his head. "......you gonna scream if I let you go?" You shook your head. He stared down at you, as if he was trying to catch you in a lie. But then he laughed and finally loosened his hold on you. You took his hand off of your mouth and turned around. "...............Why are you killing someone in my yard?"

He says nothing.

You try to look back at the corpse and he blocks your way. "Fertilizer."

You avert your gaze and hug yourself. "For your tree."

"I already fertilized it two weeks ago. You were there. It doesn't need fertilizer until like a few months later." Satoru goes silent and sighs.

"Alright, babe. You caught me." He stalks closer to you and stops when he's directly in front of you.

"I killed him because he was a terrible waste of space." His smile was unnerving and you only felt more uncomfortable and confused. "What....?" "....He was useless. And he got in the way." The way he spoke made things a little awkward between the two of you. Did this have something to do with you and him? You hoped not. But with the way he said it, and the way he was staring at you began giving you confirmation that this was the case.

"He doesn't deserve you like I do." You inhale sharply and take a step back towards your door. "Satoru-" "No, I'm serious."

"You can't just....kill someone. He's dead!" His shoulders shake as he laughs at your statement. "You think I don't know that? That's the whole point. To die." You shake your head, "I-I need to get you help. This isn't okay. You shouldn't think it's okay to kill someone just to....I don't even know."

"To have you," He states. But you didn't hear. You were already back in the house to research different forms of treatment he could possibly receive. You didn't know what you were going to do with the body.

Satoru did plan to use it as fertilizer.

He lied to you for 12 weeks. And he hated every second of it. He never liked hiding shit from you. Which is why he straight up told you that he killed that dumbass from a while ago. You deserve better than some liar. But he'd be damned if he let some random take you away from him. So, he told you that he was going to the therapist that he been paid off and also killed.

He told you the body was taken care of and you didn't have to worry about it. After all, your tree leaves looked perkier than usual(he didn't tell you that either).

When you heard he was consistently meeting with his therapist, you let him take you out more often. You let him hang out at your place to have sleepovers if you had the time, and you realized that you might have a small crush on him. You shouldn't have a crush on a killer, but here you were. You should've called the police on him a long time ago(not like he'd get rid of them either), but he promised you he'd be good. And he has been. So you trust him.

Satoru learned to stop doing things like being a killer when you're around. It was smart to do it at night. But definitely not where you live. Probably the stupidest thing he's ever done. He should buy that house a few towns off. Everyone would be better off dying in there anyways, especially if there'd be no trace of them in the first place.

He's lucky you're gullible.

#yandere #yandere x reader #reader #yandere x you #yandere character #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere jujutus kaisen #yandere satoru gojo #yandere satoru x reader #yandere gojo x reader #yandere jjk #yandere jjk gojo #yandere jjk gojo satoru #yandere satoru gojo x reader

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wisteriaiswriting · 7 months ago

Text

Mercs as Parents Headcanons

Words: 2379

Jeremy either takes after his mother and is the absolute top tier caretaker, or just like Spy and can’t do shit for you.

He doesn’t even realize how many skills he has picked up from his Ma growing up.

Will spoil you with everything he can get his hands on. (Tries his best to make sure you don’t grow up similarly to how he did.)

Every chance he gets he’ll bring you along to meet his Ma and brothers, so your Grandma and uncles, alongside any cousins that come along.

Really enjoys going on morning jogs with you, but if that isn’t your thing he’ll play some baseball with you.

***

If he was being honest, cooking wasn’t one of his favourite activities. But if and whenever you asked he never minded, actually excited to do this for you. Reminding him of his Ma, which led him to messaging her for recipes to use in the future, helping him for today's breakfast.

Looking many times at the pancake recipe sent over from her, they were basic buttermilk but there were plenty of toppings stashed away. He managed to get a decent pile finished before another merc entered the kitchen, not needing to turn to know who it was.

“THERE'S THE SMELL OF A CLASSIC AMERICAN BREAKFAST!”

“Yeah, yeah, there ya go pal.”

Reaching over to the plate to grab the top pancakes, ignoring the heat to throw them right at Soldier. Who caught them, cramming the first one into his mouth while tearing the other one apart to give to his raccoons. When it was finished the group of them rushed out, leaving Scout and you together again.

Within minutes the rest of the batter was cooked, the stack of pancakes were separated onto two plates. Sliding them across the table, meaning you had to grab both so they wouldn’t go sliding off. While he dug through the pantry, grabbing any types of syrups and toppings he could find.

Walking back over to you and letting everything drop onto the table, sitting down himself before reaching for the sugar.

“Eat up, don’t want any of ‘em going to waste. Ma would’a whooped any of us kids for wastin’ that!”

Guess you’re American now. Solly will not listen, and doesn’t really care what you say about it.

Keep him away from the kitchen, he cannot make the simplest of meals that are not MRE’s.

Just because he gave you the title of Sergeant doesn’t mean he’ll go easy on you in training, if anything he has you train harder.

Is very quick to get you ‘matching’ uniforms. (He claims it’s a Sergeant’s uniform but there’s really no difference.)

Will gladly get you your own raccoon. (Likely you’ll have to name it as he’ll give it the dumbest and most American name.)

***

The lot of you had just finished eatting dinner, allowing everyone to go off and do whatever they wanted. Which meant Soldier had gone somewhere doing something, either way at the moment you didn’t care what he was doing.

Until a loud, constant knocking started on your door, continuing ‘til you opened the door, finding the very man standing there all proud. In his, now scratched up and bleeding arms was a very unhappy raccoon. It was throwing itself around, screaming or whatever noise raccoons made.

Lieutenant Bites scampered around his feet, screeching back at the one in his arms before rushing into your room.

“SERGEANT, MEET THE NEWEST RECRUIT, UH… What's your name?”

His shouting quieted down for a few seconds to ask it, not that it’ll actually answer him. Only letting go when he noticed something in its mouth, holding it closer to find a finger. Confused until you shouted at him.

“SOLLY, IT BIT OFF YOUR FINGER!”

“OH!”

Not caring as the raccoon ran off into your room as well, rushing to grab the finger and bring him all the way to Medic.

No one is really sure who is caring for who at this point, and you don’t think the two of you know either.

They’re constantly dedicating and giving you drawings and plushies whenever you need them or even just when they feel like it.

Very often visits Engineer about anything and everything really, not that he ever minds the company. (Engineer feels like a very proud grandpa everytime Pyro comes by.)

It’s much easier and better if Pyro doesn’t cook, although they can make any easy to eat / make meals, so you won't ever starve.

If anyone ever tries to mess with you, they’ll have to go through Pyro first.

***

Pyro wanted to colour with someone, and with Engineer busy they wandered around to find you. Their first stop was your room, but with no luck finding you they walked around until they reached the living area. About to launch themselves over when they noticed how you were sitting, hunched over with your head dropped into your hands.

A few seconds passed before they moved again, rushing out of the room all the way back to their own. Grabbing one of their many plushies before returning, slowly approaching you. The familiar sight of Pyro didn’t phase you, nor did them sitting next to you.

What did surprise you was a plushie pushed into your arms.

The soft animal shouldn’t have brought you to tears but it did, wrapping your arms around it while holding it closer to you. Pyro had already placed their colouring book and supplies down, quickly wrapping their arms around you to pull you closer. You felt the cold material of their mask gently sit on your head as a faint, muffled hum could be heard.

He knows he isn’t the ‘parently’ type of man, it definitely didn’t help that everyone else said the same thing.

If you don’t like him drinking he’ll try to slow down, he really does and means well, but considering him and his body it’s quite hard to do.

Whether you ask him or not, at some point he’ll start going on about anything that comes to his mind, which can range from simple Scottish myths and legends to past situations he’s been in.

Is quite reluctant to let you meet his mother at all. (Even if she bullies him, she knows him well. Realizing how much he cares for you, so she cuts you some slack, not Demo though.)

He doesn’t care one bit about where you’re from or what language you speak, he will teach you some Scottish slang, and even some of the language itself.

***

You weren’t sure if the timing of your death was good or not, but either way it meant you didn’t have to walk all the way back to base. Able to have all your weapons and other accessories put away before any of the others returned, expecting Scout to come rushing through the door.

Finding out why when the door opened, seeing Demo slumped on his shoulder, arm thrown aross Scout. Eagerly chatting away while the younger merc barely spoke back, until he saw you.

“Y/N, back already?”

At your name Demo stood on his own, only for a few seconds though, collapsing onto you while using his empty hand to ruffle your hair.

“Y/N, laddie! Did I ever finish tellin’ ye about the…” Taking a quick drink of his scrumpy, “The selkie I ran into, a bit ago?”

Out of all the mercs he actually knows the most due to caring for his sisters.

There are times he will baby you, so you’ll need to let him know when it’s going too far so he backs off.

Most nights, if not all, are spent with him reading you books and reciting russian legends. (If you don’t understand Russian, he’ll spend time trying to translate them for you.)

If he ever finds out you aren’t eating properly he’ll spend hours cooking meals for you everyday if needed. (Proudly makes his mother’s recipes.)

He’s another person who keeps a close eye on your during battles, and tries to keep you near him and Medic.

***

The room was filled with the smell of cooked meat and vegetables, you sat at the dining table while Heavy stood in the kitchen. Soon a bowl was placed infront of you before he walked away again, it was a clear liquid with chopped up meat,

“That is Ukha, soup with fish.” Looking up at him, still waiting for the oven to finish. “This is Shashlik,” When it finally did finish he pulled the tray out, dumping the meat onto two plates. “Meat served on sticks.”

“They’re not on sticks though?”

Laughing at your words, placing the full plates on the table before opening a box next to him, pulling out said sticks.

“Here, sent all the way from Siberia.” Taking the plates to stab multiple bits of meat onto them, sliding the finished meal over to you when he was done. “As I work, eat, you need to grow stronger.”

Dell is probably the best parental figure out of the nine of them.

He gives you all the petnames he can think of. (Alongside Pyro, who has become your new sibling.)

Allows you two to sit and spend time in his workshop while he’s working, but gave you special permission to stay in there without him. (Which is a huge privilege only given to one other person.)

He puts anything of yours at the top of his priority list.

Tries to keep a close eye on you during any fights, if possible he keeps you close to him or his sentry.

Lil extra here - He has given you and Pyro kinda matching petnames. You’re ‘Sugar’ while Pyro is ‘Honey.’

***

Dell was busy working on his next project, which neither you or Pyro currently cared about. Both of you were focused on your drawing, spending nearly half an hour switching colours, even starting over once before finally finishing.

Clapping their hands after standing up, you added your final details as Pyro caught Dell’s attention.

“What’s up Honey?” Pointing back to you as you walked over, holding the paper behind your back. “Sugar?”

Swiftly placing it into his hands, unable to see much of his reaction has his goggles covered his eyes. Soon after he pulled them off, letting you both see his teary eyes.

“Aren’t you two sweet as pie…” All three of you knew how sweet you were, considering your petnames. “C’mere…”

Welcoming you both over into his embrace, carefully placing the drawing safely behind him on his desk.

Special dove privileges, you swear he might also be one with the amount of time he spends cooing over you.

He takes extra care during your surgeries, promising not to mess with anything he doesn’t need to.

Speaking of surgeries, if you ever feel like assisting him in any he will gladly welcome you. (The others are kinda scared though.)

You and Heavy are at the top of his priority list, on and off the battlefield.

He is a massive hypocrite, because if you dare mess one meal he will be on your ass about it.

***

While he was focused on some work, Archimedes had managed to slip out of the infirmary. Not realizing until hours later, when calling out didn’t reveal the bird he rushed around trying to find her.

Eventually he realized she must’ve left the room so he had to go searching, and luckily he didn’t need to search for long. Turning a corner and nearly running into you,

“Ah, Y/N, zere is a small problem…”

“Missing Archimedes?” Holding out your arms as you spoke, “Cause she came looking for me.”

He paused for a few seconds, taking in the sight.

“Aren’t you two just adorable!”

It is petnames galore! At first he might seem embarrassed but quickly embraces them. (Main ones are Roo, Joey, Chick and just adding lil onto them.)

He actually had good (adoptive) parents, so he knows how to do most things.

Doesn’t mean to, but he’s a slight helicopter parent. Keeps you in his scope and all around view.

Will give you a key and free access to his camper van.

***

This man is another massive hypocrite, he makes sure you’re getting enough sleep, eating well and staying healthy. (If you bother him back enough, he will do the same alongside you.)

It wasn’t new to not see Sniper having meals with the team, opting to spend that time in his camper. So he normally came by before it started, but today he was a bit behind. Walking into the room towards the counter, grabbing his plate before making his way back out.

Walking behind you, lightly patting your head.

“Come on, Roo.”

He didn’t wait for you, walking out as you scrambled to grab everything. Finding him standing at the main door to go outside, continuing when you reached him. The walk to his camper was quick but it was a comfortable silence.

Which was cut short when you both got comfortable inside, filling the air with laughter and conversation.

You should feel lucky that Scout isn’t aware of the relation between him and Spy, otherwise there would be a real one sided competition.

Please give him a break, he’s old and is nowhere near good at parental things.

Constantly leaving you all types of gifts in your room whenever you either mention wanting something, or he thinks you might enjoy it.

Gives you every petname he can think of (English and French), and at this point you think he might’ve forgotten your name.

He definitely tries to teach you french, praising you if you pick it up quickly while holding conversations.

***

“Qu'est-ce que j'ai dit sur le fait de surveiller ses arrières?”

"Qu'il faut toujours être sur ses gardes..."

Spy was cut off by the sound of the door opening, looking over to find Scout standing in the doorway. He was clearly unprepared to find Spy in here, willingly talking to you much less.

“What's uh, going on here?”

"Nous pouvons dire qui est le meilleur enfant."

It took you a minute to realize what he was saying, and with a smug look from him it clicked. Sending you into a full blown laughter, while Scout was confused.

“What’s wrong with you two?”

***

"What did I say about watching your back?"

"You always have to be on your guard..."

"We can tell who the best child is."

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sleepy-fiction · 16 days ago

Text

Adam Warlock x Reader.

NEMESIS AND I. 🏆 NSFW

syn: at galacta's inter-faction New Years party, you run into your mortal enemy, a new member of the guardians called Adam Warlock. and after some interpersonal battles, you allow yourself to fall into his charm, and he to yours. TLDR; mini slow burn where u hate Adam and then u fuck him

tgs: breeding kink, cunnilingus (fem r), fingering, masturbation, p n v, creampies, power play, bdsm, slowburn, soft dom adam, fem villian reader, inappriopriate use of adam's soul bonding ability (sex), a lot of shit goes on in this fic my mind is blanking, oh and u kiss bucky too idk

an: it's finally done.... after five days.... BARELY PROOFREAD

13.3K WORDS

Galacta's New Years parties were the hit of century. Everyone always attended, from villians to heros, it was the one sanction of peace in the universe. On the month following and prior to the party, a ceasefire commended the rare seasons when paths crossed. And any who disobeyed such rules, or worse started an issue at the party, would have thr face the wraith of both their faction's and the enemies. And yet again, Galacta's cosmic rager was started up again, only this time, an abandoned space station outside the Milkway was chosen to be this year's host.

Preparations were going smoothly on her in, as she fixed the place up well. Strobe lights, lazers, performers from across the galaxies flew out to attend, so it only made sense for you, and a few other villians to attend this year. By now, youd be terrorizing the galaxy, setting flame, birthing to chaos, destroying (or getting destroyed by) the guardians of the galaxy.

But for once, it was good to set a difference pace.

That's why you went all out on the night of the party. You wore your sexiest dress, paired with the slutiest heels imaginable. The combination a far cry from the violent and downright unapproachable nature you dressed yourself in. Though it wasn't your villian name, you wanted everyone to know that the Duchess of Galaxies had arrived.

Your space shuttle pulled into the station, as you slipped out into the airlock, feeling gravity return to your feet. You adjusted your top and breasts, checking your makeup one final time before the grand iron doors opened, and thr flooding of deep techno rave beats filtered in through the noise.

You smiled and shuddered, "the purr of chaos," whispering nothings into the air.

You were gonna get laid tonight.

But by who?

You passed through the final automatic door before you reached the inside. The lights were shut off, leading you into a world of bleeding LEDs and flashing neon lights. You recognized some familar faces as you passed by the dance floor. Of course, Sue Storm and Reed, finding their rhythm as they grinded against eachother. It made you scoff, but still, you shouted as you crossed them, "Don't hurt her now, Reed," winking.

"Ha-Ha! Enjoy yourself, Empress," Reed called back.

You slithered down to the drink bar, where lines of sofas and tables adoring the space. Along the far corners was a bar. And despite being off the crowded dance floor, this place was almost equally as flooded. That was the appeal of Galacta's New Year's. Alive and crawling with bugs.

Speaking of, as you pranched to the bar, blowing your kisses, and greeting friends, you stepped on something. "Y-owch," it suddenly yelped, it's voice like gravel.

In confusion, you whipped your head down, finding the kne and only Rocket Raccoon. Still, you didn't liff your foot, and the little creature pulled at it frantically. "Oooh. My, if it isn't Rocket Raccoon," you snarled as you lifted your foot. He stumbled back with a deadly growl. "I didn't know Galacta allowed pets in here," you snickered.

"What the fuck did you just say? Huh (y/n)? You wanna fucking go," he barked throwing up his puny fists.

It's then that you notice Peter Quill and his sister Mantis scurry on over.

You gasp dramatically, "Picking a Fight? At Galacta's New Years?" You spoke loud, purposely drawing the attention of others.

Rocket grits his teeth as he booms, "Hell yeah I'll fucking show this party the best facking fight its ever seen--" Before he could finish, Peter arrives to the scene, grabbing the Raccoon by its scruff.

"Hey- No, no, no. There will be no fighting," The Starlord huffs, turning away from you to whisper dead at the Raccoon, "I'm not missing out on another year, got it?"

It's then you glanced over to Mantis, her eyes narrowed on you, her fists clenched in anger. You quirk, raising a brow as you drop a deviously finger against your lip. "Oh? Cat's got your tongue," you speak.

Mantis flattens her top lip, hissing, "You should have never did that to Planet Yulean! Think about the Yuppies that got hurt!"

"I couldn't care less about Yuppies, they were hoarding fuel," you roll your eyes. "But they're dead now, aren't they?" You grin, staring her dead in her eyes.

Mantis shouts, "You monster! I swear. When we get outta' here I'll teach you a good lesson on-- On.... One everything!"

It's then a golden hand that flies between the two of you, and your eyes flicker up to see him. Adam Warlock. One of the new generations of the guardians. He was simple, plain, and easy to overlook, at least in personality. The two of you were fairly netural about each other, as you couldn't really get under his skin. You didn't know him, and you really couldn't figure him out. He seemed so weirdly honest that you were drawn away from him.

Appearance wise, you could easily admit how handsome he was. Definitely better eye candy than the squirrel, depressed oldest, and drax, that pulled down the looks on the team. Well, at least the old team. In all honesty, you hated the change. You hated how the guardians were moving ahead, you hated how you seemed to lack and fall behind in importance to them. Most of them split up and left, leaving behind these strange imposter's you didn't know.

Maybe that's why you were so off out by Adam. He was a symbol. A symbol of how you were now of the past. A symbol of change.

You immediately got irritated at his presence.

He spoke, "Now. Let's not start fights here. This is a netural setting on netural grounds. Although you are not physically fighting, Empress, you are starting a lot of them."

Mantis smiled, softly patting his arm. She says, "Thank you, Adam." And he grins joyfully. Mantis spares you one dirty look before turning away.

You seemed to burn with rage at the little gesture. You spit, "Ah-huh, You think you can talk to me, Tinman?"

He chimes, "No it's Adam. Adam Warlock."

Your eye twitched. You weren't stupid. "Yeah, uh'huh. Why dont you make yourself useful and go fetch me a scotch, robot," You wave your hand at him, dismissing him. He seems to stare at you, his eyebrows furrowing, before he simply walks away. His back slinking off into the dense crowd. You stood there a second, taking a breathy huff.

Now you were alone.

Good riddance.

You sigh, finding a spot on one of the sofas, leaning your head back against the back of it. Behind you, you heard the (usually) tantalizing sound of liplocking, but now it brought you nothing but rage. No one deserved to be happy but you.

How could you ever be when you were fading away. Not only were you no longer considered a priority, or barely even a threat by your nenemies, they were moving on. They were growing, no longer in fear of your threat to the galaxy. Thanos really reset the memter, especially after he took so much of your land from beneath. Fighting against him damaged you. You were weaker, insignificant.

You and many other villians.

Your eyes dotted across the room, watching as Captain America mingled with Miss Marvel and Cloak and Dagger. Your eyes honed in on them in disgust. They smiled and chatted away, laughing tenderly as if things were funny, exhanging looks, and glances at familiar friends and familiar faces. These heros always got what they wanted. They always get it in the end.

Then you glance over at Loki. The God of stories sits at the far end of the bar, drinking alone, lost in thought. Just as you were. All alone, all in thought. For the more sane villians, it was harder to "fit in", not that you wanted to, but still. Unless you were mindless and brainroted, seeking endless bloodshed with no sanction, you were alienated. That's the one understanding that kept you with a decent-ish relationship with the god. Sane villians who want power yet aren't respected.

In the end, it seems all us villains drift away. Your eyes sadly glance away from his cloaked back.

No fair. No fair when--

"Mmh-- haa," the couple behind you moaned. Your fists clenched tightly. Your magic swelled in your palms, burning hot to the touch.

"Fuck, not here," you heard the other one whisper. Inconsiderate fucks. You glanced behind you, watching the two blue skinned aliens swap spit. They weren't even heros or villians, just random rich folk who got in with connections or status. It only ticked you off even more.

No one should be happy.

Nothing about this was happy.

You whisper, "No one should be allowed to be happy but me." You spat out the last word, your whisper underneath your breath. Your palm burns, and without thinking, you shoot out magic. Wih a buzz, you shoot a shadow beam that curves backward, zipping through the dark, before it sneakily hits the champagne glass the couple held.

A splah rippled behind you. "Ah-- Shit! My shirt! Ugh! This was expensive," you heard one yell as they stood up abruptly, storming off to god knows where.

You smile, feeling the sofa shift as the other rushed off after them. "Hey! Wait," it's pitiful voice soon drowned out by the lull of techno. Your eyes dust close with ecstasy as you turn on the couch, laying your back against it and spreading your legs wide in the new room you gained. You rested your arms out against the back of the couch.

God, what were you even thinking before? It was too good to be you! You shut your eyes, rolling your head back with a soft groan.

"Your scotch, Empress," you suddenly heard Adam's voice before you.

What the fuck?

In disbelief, your eyes blank open, your head shooting up right. To your surprise, this wasn't a figment. Before you was the golden boy, Adam Warlock. He stood tall, his golden hair slip back, gorgeously complimenting the new suit he wore for the occasion. His golden light was a Stark contract to the neon-hellscape, the yellow and red almost comforting to the eyes. He held two glasses of scotch in hand, blinking at you, staring simply through lpng, frail, golden eyelashes.

"What?" You spat.

Adam looks off to the dance floor, lulling out, "You asked for a scotch, ma'am."

You were kidding.

You were making fun of him. Why the fuck did he actually get it?

Your eyes flicker to the whisky. It was served in a refreshing glass with a lemon slice, a straw, and a thick ice cube. You swallow, mouth parched and dry. You blink once. You suppose you'll enjoy it. You reach for it, but your fingers hesitate just before your fingertips brush the cold surface. Adam doesn't wait. He meets you halfway, pushing the glass into your hands, brushing his golden fingers under the pads of your fingertips before letting go. The scotch fits well in your hands.

You pull it into you, staring at it more quietly. He's the first to ever shut you up, huh. You feel the sofa sink next to you. When you glance, the Warlock is sitting beside you, not looking at you, as if to spare you the embarrassment, as he takes a sip. "Mmh," he hums, a smile dotting his face.

You quirk oddly, "You like it?"

He finally looks over at you, and you can clearly see the engravings of symbols on his golden face. "Yes, Scotch Whisky is good," he says. His voice is soothing, and it's deep and thoughtful. His jawline was perfect, strong, and dashing. He was truly sublime. Even you were taken aback. He speaks again, "Whisky is always good."

You take a sip, never taking your eyes off him. He's quite large too, broad shoulders with a small waist. You were almost jealous.

Your eyebrows twitch in annoyance. "Why are you doing this," you huff. You cut to the chase.

He awkwardly looks away. "I don't know much about you. And... This is my first party," he huffs shyly, his eyes meeting yours again. He doesn't break eye contact. Not even as he goes for another innocent sip.

"Ah-ha... Well. Do you know that I colonize and conquer planets for my bidding," you speak. Your eyes sharpen, your smile devilish and tight.

He winces, shaking his head. "Oh boy, trust I know," he sighs. "Dangerous stuff, you know. If you cross the wrong person, they'll be gunning for you," he speaks as if he knows that life, it irriates you worse, "It's never too late to call it quits," he continues.

You stand with a start, throwing a finger at his face, "So that's what you want from me! You're trying to turn me good, huh? Haha! How pitiful. One bland scotch isn't going to change me." You take a swing, hapzardly tossing the glass as you stare down at him. "You heros think you're so above all of us. All of everything. As if you get us all, standing up on your righteous throne."

His jaw slacks. He's about to speak, probably to sprout some more hero bullshit to you. No way that'll happen. You sway, pouncing before he can make one more move. You slide into his lap, pulling your hair away from your neck and leaning in close. Your perfume lingers on him. His thighs are a strong and steady support to you. Your knees rested on the soft sofa.

He flinches in surprise, his breath catching and then blowing against your neck.

You drag the side of your nail down his cheek, tracking your finger with your eyes before pinching his chin, pulling it down to part his mouth. You whisper seductively, "I'm rotten. I'm boundless and endless, ruler all of all, and nothing all at once. And I will return to terrorize you and your little gang again. And again. So you'll never forget me," you hush, so close that your breath mingled together.

You can hear and feel his panting against you, his chest rising and falling. "I'll haunt you forever. I'll dig myself beneath that golden skin. You'll be awake at night, trembling in fear of the mighty Empress of Galaxies," you hiss spitefully.

His eyes flicker between your features, mouth agape with a shaky breath. He's so still afraid to even move a centimeter. Either that or ill prepared. Your eyes narrow down on the etchings on his perfect, golden face.

"Mmh," a pleased sigh escaped you, "You're mighty handsome," you whisper, dragging your hand down his neck and to his chest. "I'll eat you for lunch," you grin.

He finally, finally, says something after a deep pause, "Y-You like me? You like me in that way?"

Your eyebrows furrow. You hiss, "Of course not. I'm fucking with you." You lean back away from his face, disbelief ans disgust in your eyes.

His hands slither around your hips, his eyes flickering. He gazes deep into your eyes. It lnly makes you tense up, your disgust brewing into bewilderment. Did he not listen to any of what you said? Or was he doing this on purpose?

"You like me? Is this what you're doing? Is this how you flirt? Have you done this with Quill, too," he asks. His face is blank, his tone is inquisitive.

Your face heats with humiliation, you lean back more, still held in place by his hands. You bark, "Of course not! He's! He's unattractive, to say the least."

He gasps quietly and the grins, "So I am?"

You sputter, "Yes? I already-- I already established that. I'm teasing you, Adam. This isn't real." You fold your arms and look away.

"Aah," he nods. You refuse to look. "Your dress is stunning. You have a great sense of fashion... You are definitely one of the best dressed here," he reaches and tugs on your jewelry, and that's what gets you to finally look at him. He speaks, "You have a beautiful style."

Your eyebrows furrow deeply, eyes flickering back between each of his features, searching for an answer. Was he? Fucking with you now? How fucking dare he.

You dawned a plastic smile, accompanied by a passive-agressive hum. You slid your hand from up his chest and to his neck. You lean into his ear and whisper, "I wonder what'd be like to melt you back into pure gold," your hand tightens around it, "I wonder if you'll finally learn to shut up." Your magic swells in your palm, and he can feel it against his neck. He gulps quietly.

For some reason, you can't bring yourself to peer out of his neck at first. You feel nothing but irration, nothing but the desire to squash this little bug and move on with your life. But also, a slight humilation kept you from looking at him. He was running circles around you. You feel the large, strong hands around your hips quiver, and you feel him half harden beneath you.

You jolt at the feeling.

"A-Ah... Melt me? O-Oh," he whispers, swallowing thickly.

You slip out of his neck with disbelief. He thinks this is real.

He continues, "W-Well. If you melt me, I don't think I'd be quite useful for my team. In fact, w-what I'm saying is that there could be other ways in which one could... Uh." He stops his rambling as he stares into your eyes. You're looking at him blankly. He only seems to clam up more.

Power spurs in your belly. You slowly, slowly, creep on a villainous smile. Oh yeah, you were gonna fuck with this.

He sighs and looks away, "Well. What I mean is--" You crash your lips against his, cupping the sides of his golden cheeks in your hands. He hums dutifully into it, melting and rocking his head forward to take over this kiss. His left hand raises from your hip to stroke up and down your back, reassuring and worshiping all at once. It then slides to your shoulder, as he wrosd his thumb around it, and beds his fingers around you, his knuckles facing away, his forearm against your skin.

You run circles around him now. He's a horrible kisser, yet he's trying to take the lead. His tongue laps awkwardly out of tune, and his teeth crash into yours. Was he really this inexperienced? It makes you chuckle. He surely has the passion. Your hands slip up to the back of his head, holding it as you pull apart and start anew. Only this time, the both of you keep your eyes open, staring, and letting you guide him into how to kiss.

He finds your rhythm, slurping you up, molding his lips against yours. Ever so diligent, ever so studious. He pulls apart to breath, and the two of you take this short intermission to stare oddly, contently into eachother’s eyes. He pulls your body in, you curve into him with a deadly giggle, and he takes the lead with his new knowledge.

You don't have to tell him twice.

That was fun, at least.

Your heart starts to race, your mind dabbling into dangerous places. You'll fuck him, split up the team from the inside, and then they'll never forget you. Yeah.

Adam sucks your tongue into his mouth before pulling out of the kiss. He licks up your lips, before catching your bottom lip in-between his teeth. You moan, spine-shuddering in excitement. He was too quick of a learner.

Your head buzzed in desire. You moan, "Ah- fuck." Then he releases your lip, dragging off of it painfully slow. It bounced back into place, all juicy and wet from his mouth. Your lipstick smearing on him. Your eyes lid. Maybe. Maybe just a little bit of him was driving you crazy.

Only a little.

He'd make for a fun toy.

One of his hands slides back to cup your ribcage, it fits swell in his palm. He moves you like a weightless doll back into his inquisitive mouth, swapping your spits, dragging his tongue up the roof of your mouth. Your tongue laps the beneath of his while he does so, but then he turns his head completely to dive in deep. Your hand falls, grabbing tight chunks of his suit. A whimper flies out of you.

Your tongues meet again, burdened with passionate fire, frictioned and brisk, lips brushing, growing redder, and plump. He's calm and calculated, at first slipping into your rhythm just to test it out and learn. To gain more of a human experience. Then, it bubbles into desire, a feeling he's not very sure with, then it turns competitive. He wants to turn you on too.

He's overpowering you fast, he doesn't need to take breaths as much as you do, and he's taking advantage of that. As you pull away to breath, you only get a mere second before he's suffocating you again with pretty, golden lips. So much so that you've begun to time your breathe, but, the strategist he is, he's even quicker to notice your pattern and sabotage it too.

You slam on his chest and forcefully pull away from him, leaning over the side of his lap a bit to heave and pant. Blood is brewing in your face and pussy, you can feel your clit swelling. You really couldn't breathe, you didn't know that feeling had such an effect on you. He didn't give you anytime to think. You knew it as an irriation, something you couldn't figure out. Adam knew it as your weakness, your head clouds you from reality.

He's just as smart as you. He knew greater than you that no villian would simply climb into his lap just to "fuck around". A part of you liked him. You just couldn't admit it.

As you pant, he cups the side of your face with his hands, your hair folding against his fingertips. He was admiring you with a soft smile and relaxed posture. The weakness. It made you want to curl up. You shut your eyes tight, trying to gain some energy to stand up, or brew up some sort of curse on him.

Adam's hand slips down, his thumb running over your kiss-bruised lips. You moan and mumble in discomfort. Your head meekly drops into his hand, and he can feel just how hot your forehead was on his palm.

He mutters, "You're thinking too much, Empress... You pick and choose your battles... Maybe... This should not be one..."

Your fists clench tightly. "Why do you talk as if you know me," you spoke. You try to bite back with force, but it comes off so weak. So sensitive, so vulnerable. The Empress was never vulnerable or soft with anyone.

The Empress ruled with a heavy hand, always in control, always in power. Always. Always...

Adam speaks, "Maybe I do."

You look up, glossy eyes finding his. This was a problem. You stand up, using his shoulders as support as you did so. "If you'll excuse me," you huff, face falling blank. You slink off into the dance floor, your usual strut more of a wobble, as you felt how disgustingly wet you were. It made your underwear so uncomfortable, not to forget how your aching clit commanded your knees to soften like jello.

Your neck was hot, your head was heavy. Your feet ached from the heels. You tried to dance in the tight hubub, as arms brushed against yours, as backs were dear to your body. But all you could do is think. Think about how wet you were.

"You think too much," Adam's voice appears in your head.

You hiss.

As if he knew you. You don't think enough. The beat flowed into a slow, sensual song as you released tension from your body with a huff. You slid your hands down your chest, cupping your breasts before sliding them down your stomach. You rose then high into the air afterward, trying to get into the groove, as you swayed your hips to the beat.

You heard the crowd shift behind you, feeling a presence on the custs of your back. They were close, whoever it was, as you lost yourself to the rhythm, eyes shut with your worries behind you. You felt large hands ghosts your hips. You reached down and pressed them down against you, feeling the smooth fingers curve around your hips in a secure vice. You moaned out a chuckle. You felt the stranger pull you into him, meeting you halfway as your bodies connected.

Your back laid against a sturdy, hard chest. You leaned your head back against it with a pleased hum, feeling their crotch brush against your butt. The heat, the pressure, the friction was cathartic. You almost forgot why you came here in the first place. You leaned forward, dropping your hands on your knees grinded against the stranger. You felt them lay a steady palm on the center of your middle back, the other hand sliding to old the side of your ass.

The touch.

Your brain flickered.

You know who it is. No- You knew.

But you kept your eyes closed vice. You didn't want to think about it. You couldn't do with the stress right now.

Maybe Warlock was right. Maybe you do think to much.

His hot rod was hardening beneath your quick, strategic ebbs and flows, your body moving in a addictive, rhythmic wave. The hand slid up and cupped and cupped your shoulder, it was cold and metallic to the touch. Warlock. You shuddered and mewled, pleasure erupting deep within you. You leaned back up into Adam, pressing your back against his strong chest again.

You reached up to cup his cheek, mewling out, "Warlock," as you look to admire him.

hello this next part of thr fic is rushed because I wrote it out the first time and it didn't save so..... but trust the og was juicy.

His long black hair, dewy peach skin and-- Your eyes hardened. Metal mask? You flung off him in an instant, in the process bumping into someone else. You steadied yourself and stared wildly at the man-- who wasn't Warlock.

You stared at a tall miscuksr man with long black hair bluntly cut at the shoulders, his skin fair and leach, a metal mask clamped over his mouth, accompanied by a cool metal arm. You recognized him immediately. "B-Bucky Barns," you stammer out, your eyes wide and frantic.

He stood tensely in place, his arms pulled up harmlessly, his face flushed in deep humilation. "Warlock," he squeaks out, but quickly covers his humilation with a gruff. He's just staring at you, not quite processing what was happening yet.

Your face grows deadly hot, your body tensed up. You nod simply, fleeing from his stare as you speak, "Sorry... I-I thought Adam followed me from the dance floor." Your tone was weak, barely surviving over the loud music.

Bucky's eyebrows quirked in surprise, his hand reaching to scratch the back of his neck. It was rare to see The Empress blubbering. You were always so poised.

Winter Soldier spoke, "Aah. No, I've been watching you dance... I've been watching it for a while so," he blanks, looking away, "I-I thought you saw me approach you." He's quiet the slient type, you're aware. You never would of guessed he had taken an interest in you.

You knew of the Winter Soldier. You've seen him in here in at Galacta's every year almost. You've even once shared a drink, but that was maybe four or so years ago. You never had a real interaction. He had taken an interest in you? It was certainly flattering.

Bucky's brows pinch as he shakes his head in disbelief. "Adam Warlock?" He repeats, but this time it's framed as a deadly question. His tone is drowning in petty confusion. He spits the name as if it were a juvenile stain on your crest. You pale. But he continues, "Like The Guardian, Adam Warlock?"

He spoke as if the name was beneath you.

Truthfully, he was right.

Adam Warlock was beneath you.

At least to your Empress Persona.

Adam Warlock wasn't someone "The Empress" took after. No, in all honesty, someone like the Winter Soldier was perfect for you. He was quiet, filled with a powerful prowess mixed undeniable raw strength. Only such a cold and calculated powerhouse could be a perfect fit for the power-hungry, illustrious Empress. Meanwhile, Adam Warlock is soft and kind. The Empress isn't.

Humilation stung you. Your head felt so heavy. You sighed, pinching your temples, "I won't tell a soul about this if you won't." You shut your eyes tight, praying this all would fade away.

You failed to see the disappointment that flickered through his eyes. He still spoke, "Deal."

You quietly slipped past him. He watched you leave. Your head fell low, your arm suddenly felt cold and forlorn. You stepped off the dancefloor. Shame seemed to sting at every corner.

You were impossibly fond of Adam Warlock.

You were so vulnerable with a stranger. You embarrassed yourself again and again.

You found your way back to the sofa you saw Adam last and was instead greeted by the scorching sight of Captain, Stark, and Thor. They sat snugly like old chums, laughing loud, beaming with endless joy.

You clench your fist.

You glanced around the bar, searching for even the smallest flicker of gold. Luckily, you caught sight of glimmering gold, just behind a crowd of villains you didn't care about. You pushed through them and soon found your Adam, sat at the end of the bar top in between... Hela and Loki?

What.

Your palms burned with fury.

What did they even have in common?

Hela's face was slightly softened, as she peered down at him between upturned eyes. Loki was perched forward, chin resting in his palm as a pleasant, thin lipped smile grew on his face. Both of which had their whole bodies turned to face him. Adam sat in thr middle of them, talking with his hands as he shared some story. The light from the ceiling glowed down upon him, making him twinkle and shimmer in contrast.

You felt.

Bitterly insecure.

So he just talked to villains then, huh? You weren't special at all. You were easily replaced by two other washed-up phonies. You were friendly with both, but still. It stung.

But at the same time. You couldn't look away. Not from the air of pleasure that dimmed from the three of them, how entranced they seemed just by catching sight of Adam. You found yourself grouped up and frozen, just like them.

Adam really was...

Really charming. He naturally lowered people's guards, naturally brought them in, and captured them there. It made sense. He was pure gold, who wouldn't be called in. Your heart ached pitifully.

He was funny and witty. He was a true jewel.

You could easily see why his team valued him so much. He was unique.

He was precious. Not in a juvenile way, but a way that highlighted how lucrative and luxurious he was.

Your eyes trace down his red cape, his slicked back hair, those golden palms. How he was a direct contrast to the neon life, to the blur of black and green that sat next to him. He was glowing.

Hela reaches and lays a hand on Adam's shoulder, he turns to her as she speaks.

Your eyes softened.

You really think too much.

You were still The Empress, you couldn't forget that.

With a deep breath, you correct your posture, strutting on over. You get in close, reaching a hand to cup Loki's waist, the other squeezing Hela's nailed hands, leaning in close on Loki's back. You do this all at once as you slyly hush, "Hello, lovelies," eyes lidded as you stare at Adam, and Adam only.

He flinches, staring at you with a slack jaw. Loki doesn't budge at all, and pleased hum mixing from him, "Hello darling." He reaches back to briefly pat the back of your head.

Hela's eyes narrow down on you intently, eyebrows raising in delight. She slips her hand back into her lap, humming, "My Empress." A pleasure to have Hela's approval.

You pull back, moving to Loki's side as you drop your palms on the table. You speak, "May I borrow your little jewel for a while?" Your eyes soften down on him. You were displaying open affection to him? Adam's eyebrows pinch together, a soft smile glittering across his face. He leans back.

"By all means," Hela says.

"Ooh, but we were just having fun," Loki pouts, drunkenly sloshing his head about.

"He can play god-sitter another time," You say.

Adam awkwardly looks between the three of you.

That's when another steps to the group, laying big and heavy hands on Adam's shoulders. You flicker on over to them, seeing Thor standing just behind him. Thor asks, "Does the dear lad get a say on anything?"

You all seem to cackle, "No."

Loki groans, turning his whole body away from Thor as Adam stands. "Ugh, hurry ans escape while you still can," Loki slurs. Adam chuckles, almost rushing towards you as you lean up, raising your hands to be taken by him.

He grabs them fondly, pulling you along through the party, barely missing the bickering that erupted behind you two.

Adam pulled you off into a long winding hallway, that was, essentially, the bridge between the party and the shuttle board. The hallway was lined with large rounded windows on the right side, a grand observatory to view this side of the universe. Stars sprinkled endlessly, galaxies entertwining, glowing their saturated colors. The two of you sighed at the sight.

"No matter the faction... This sight is home," you whisper, resting your head against his shoulder as you walked.

He hums deeply, nodding with a breathless sigh. "I couldn't agree more. When I learned to fly this was all I ever wanted to see," he hums.

"Earthlings don't understand it," you snicker.

He chuckles, glancing down at you. "You're enjoying yourself, Empress," he says. His free hand cups your cheek, running a thumb underneath your eye.

He's warm and smooth to the touch, you're not sure at all how you mistaked him for Winter Soldier.

You spoke, "Well of course. I have successfully pried you away from two duplicates of me."

He laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. He nods, "You have."

You continue, "And now, you will take me to your ship."

He freezes, "Oh wait... Groot's in there."

You groan bitterly. You pull away from Adam and lean against the windows, kicking one of your legs back, a sly look on your face. "Then," your tone is deadly, "You will please me here. Whilst I count the stars I have yet to conquer." You glance off to the window.

Adam walks over quietly, your heart rate spikes. He grabs your hips securely, not hesitating for a second. You perk your ass out for him, and he meets you half-way, pressing his body flat against your. You moan, eyes already rolling to the back of your head. His crotch kisses your ass, the friction and warmth mind blowing as he wraps his arms around you, wrapping you up in his readcape, pulling you off the window and into him. Your hands meekly fall into this cloak.

"No," he hushes. His voice is deep and sweet in your ear.

"No," you scoffs.

"Not here," he leans and kisses your ear. His breath is hot, his lips are firm and soft. He's holding you plainly, cutely, you can't even get mad, you feel comfortable here. Your eyes lid, as you stare off into the galaxies.

"Why not," you whine.

He speaks, "I don't want to get caught."

You snicker, "Not a exhibitionist, I see?"

He sighs contently, looking up to stare off at the stars with you. "I still am a guardian. I must behave accordingly, especially in public. Many look up to me... And... I don't think I'm ready..." the last part hushes out, quick and fast, drowning in insecurity.

"Ugh," you roll your eyes playfully. But it didn't go unnoticed by you.

He snickers, "Some of us have rules and are not succumb to mindless chaos." Direct jab.

"I'll send you to hell," you hiss. He laughs heartily.

One last time, Adam sinks into you, taking in your scent, squeezing you tight, savoring your warmth, before he pulls away from you. You knew it was bound to happen, so you stare in contentment, counting stars. He whispers an intergalactic coordinate in your ear along with a date, you hum appeased.

"Until we meet again, nemesis."

"Au revoir."

A week from now, huh.

You can wait.

🏆🌟.

There you were, week later, in the den of your enemy, Guardian's ship. Warlock had you pinned. You found your back against the Starlord's old seat, your hands trapped on his broad chest, as his hands were locked on the chair on each side of you, his tongue half way down your throat.

Adam made up some lie about him taking the ship off to maintenance while he brought and paid for the rest of the team's vacation on a tropical tourist planet. He did take it for maintenance (and a deep cleaning), just needed to show it off to you.

Everything about this was so dangerous. He brought the ship into your large, monstrous space port, docking inside. You had the total upper hand here. You could draw in your shadow creatures in minutes, overpowering him and destroying the ship. He knew he was playing with fire. He knew it was wrong. But still, he lapped and sucked away.

The kiss was passionate from the jump, and eager awaited hands crawled up and searched eachothers bodies, stroking needy touches, groping, and groaning. Adam himself came into this event with his brain already shut off, falling to the will of his senses without question, something he rarely got to explore. Meanwhile, you were glad not to be in control, to not be cautious, at will to his every motion.

Your lips crashed in a rushed, passionate frenzy, your lips bruising already under him, as he dragged his hands from the chair to your sweet hips, pulling them flush into him, he loved the feeling, squeezing the flesh there was his life line. He popped out of your kiss with a dazed expression, you strayed out a swell moan.

You ran your hands up his neck and cupped the sides of his golden face. His cheeks were warm, and he curved into the touch and puckered a sweet kiss into your palm. His hair was down, floating above his shoulders as you twirled it in your freehand's fingers, giggling giddy at his affections. You wee becoming dangerously fond of him.

But as you stare at those yellow scleras, you stop caring.

When you were together, you vowed to just be (y/n) and Adam.

"Empress," he whines. But he likes the nickname.

You sigh, "Warlock?"

"Follow me to bed," he leans in, burying his face into the side of your head, "I want to hold you."

"Alright, alright," you hum. Adam pulls away, grabbing you by your hand and pulling you off with him. The ship has had some several upgrades since the last time you sliced it in half. It now had a lower and upper wing, the upper, having designated bedrooms for each of the crew. And after noise complaints, it was maintained today to be soundproof.

Adam pulls you into his. It's befittingly decorated with gold and red drapes, the occasion grey or black charcoal painting dotting the white and metal walls. His bed was a king's, with plush red duvet and fluffy ruby pillows. He sits down on it. You stand between his legs, throwing your hands around his neck. He grips your hips again.

You sigh in content. "You please me, Adam Warlock," you whisper.

"What a great honor," he sinks those hands around your back and flops backward with you, unearthing giggles ans chuckles on the way down.

You lay your head down next to his neck, spreading your arms about his head. Your right hand glides through his hair. His large, warm hands spread up your back, feeling your breasts against his chest.

There's this unyielding warmth here, fracturing through your joint bodies, radiance of affection burling through it all. His hand smooths down your back and to your ass, he cups them in both hands. You stiffen and look at him, raising a judgemental brow. He laughs, lidding his eyes and sputtering before going quiet. Since he's made of gold, you figure he can't really flush. You drag your hand down his cheek.

You prop yourself up with your left, using your right to pull down his lip. The inside of his mouth was pink and warm, his tongue pink, his teeth white. You didn't get to see it much, as mostly, you were feeling it out. "You're not gold all the way down," you say as you glaze at his pink mouth.

His brows quirks in confusion, "I am."

You shake your head, "Your month's pink, meaning your organs are too... See... If I were to follow down your throat, you'd be red and bloody... Like any other worthless human," you grin.

"Ooh... Ah... Right," he looks away.

You hook a finger on his bottom teeth, pulling his head back to you. "What? Spit it out," you command.

"Nothing, nothing, Your Highness," he's smoothing circled into your ass.

Your eyes lid, resting your face in your left palm. "I implore you, speak," you drag your middle finger up the bridge of his nose. "My tin-man."

His golden lashes flutter, his bright scleras glowing an honest yellow. He stammers, "I thought you were asking... You know... All the way down, if I were gold."

You blink, "Yes. I did. I am."

"Ah, I am then," he nods.

You quirk, "But you're not. You're pink."

"I can show you," he whispers quietly.

"Alright," you hum.

He gives you one final, tart squeeze before you slide off him, rolling onto your side as he sits criss cross on the bed. Immediately, he begins to unbuckle his metal belt, and you jolt upright in surprise. You get it now. "Oh- oh I," but it's too late for you to interupt. As within seconds, Adam had fished himself out of his grey-black suit pants, his penis slowly hardening under your stare.

Just as described, he was golden. His rod was still mostly soft, his size seemed unclear, but he was uncircumcised, his foreskin was a shining, glittering gold. It was pure, dancing with soft sparkles of different shades of gold. "Oh, my," you whisper, leaning forward for a better look, and laying your hand on his forearm.

He flinched a little, he hardened more. Was this his way of initiating sex? Your eyebrows pierced as you gazed up at him, his breath was caught, lips persed together, shy gaze being thrown back at you. You blinked. He could have easily carried the situation into something further at the cockpit, you were needy then. All he did was kiss you how he did before. Now he had you in his room, and now he's flashing himself.

He's hardening more.

You continue to stare with an unreadable expression into his eyes. Adam's face tenses more, teeth baring in braced anticipation.

Was he?

"Are you a virgin," you asked. It's more of a statement than anything.

He seems to clam up more, "I-I... I uh..."

"My, so there are things you can't do," you grin devilishly. You press your hands against his chest, pushing him to lay back on the bed. His cape spreads out on the sheets, his hair spread away from his face. "You're shy, aren't you? Ah, is that why you denied me at the party? Because you are a shy virgin? Or, are you truly not ready for sex?"

You rest a hand on his thigh.

His head was spinning, he tried to prop himself up onto his elbows to get a good look at you inbetween his legs, but you rose forward and pushed him back again. He bounced back on the bed with an anxious gasp. Your head tilted, "I need an answer," you pinned him down beneath you, slowly rising to gaze up at his face, trying to bring the tension away from his most sensitive part, and towards his face.

He laughs awkwardly. You blink.

"Ooh," he starts. "M-myeah... Yes, I am what one would call a virgin... Not particularly shy about it. Haha... Not at all." He's cracking again.

You smile. It was a soft and amused one, not the face splitting grin you usually bore. "Adam Warlock doesn't always have everything in control either... But he pretends to," you reach and stroke the side of his face with your hand. He squeaks, his eyes trying to hide behind his lashes, his hips swelling forward to the speed of your caressing.

He shuts his eyes tight again, drawing a breath and relaxing back into the sheets as you move your hand.

"Adam," you whisper.

He peeks up at you, "Yes?"

"Let's kiss," you grab his chin.

"Ah," Adam dives into your lips again. You have the upper hand as you turn your head to deepen it, but still, you're steady and secure, setting the pace for a slow kiss. You explore his pink mouth, licking his cheeks and teeth, meeting his tongue to carress and twirl around with it. You feel Adam's hand raise and rest on your back as you move to straddle him, hovering just over his waist, not resting on him yet.

You drive your hands down his bare, golden chest, he mutters into the kiss, but his tongue swallows it up as it chases after yours. He's good at kissing, so you start there. Not reaching past what you haven't done with him before. He's still mostly letting you take over, he's not lit with the zealous fire like before.

You were so confused. You pulled out of his lips, hearing him shudder and huff. You rest your forehead against his, peering into his eyes, he avoids them, looking away at the paintings on the wall. Your hand slides up to cup his neck. "Are you alright, Adam," your tone is so soft.

"I- uh... I," he doesn't do anything more. You take a slow breath in, annoyance plaguing you. He won't kiss you, but he won't tell you what was wrong. So what does he want? It's annoying. What was the point of you being here then, if he wasn't going to talk to you. Your brows furrow.

If you were doing something wrong. You'd remove yourself the second he says it. And if he wanted you to continue, then you would do so the second he says it. Yet, he says nothing.

He finally, after a bit of silence, (and him noticing how you huffed), looks at you, a guilty expression wrapped on his face. "On Earth, humans have a common saying that... One's first time is sacred and i-irreplaceable... They say that... That you will never forget them... The person and the time," he pauses.

You lean back from him, giving him space, and he watches how your eyes begin to melt. You know where he's going.

He continues with a sigh, "I am still a Guardian... To become this infatuated... And entwined with such a grand enemy wouldn't be... Beneficial or safe for my team... They would never accept it... They would hate to see us..."

Us, Infatuation, entwined.

He really likes you.

His expression is meek, his voice trembling with weakness. That you were, his weakness. And he was rapidly becoming yours at an alarming and uncontrollable pace.

His hand reaches, and he cups one of your breasts affectionately before his hand slides up to your shoulder, in the crook between your shoulder blade and your neck. His hand is large enough to cover all of it. He gives it a tender, secure squeeze. He speaks, "I'm not sure if... If I should do it... It might be better off," you brace yourself, he notices, he retreats, don't go, "Ah... Empress. I make all the wrong choices with you... You've enchanted me."

Your brows quirk. He didn't give you a straight answer. You didn't have time to help him figure it out. You'd leave yourself to vulnerable if he decided in the end, after all of it, all of what you'd give up for him, he decides to settle with his team. Would it be worth it?

You freeze up yourself.

You didn't know.

He continues, unaware of your own mental dilemma, "Here I am... Taking the ship, and parking it in the lion's den... The Starlord'll kill me if he finds out what I've done to his legacy," he laughs, but his eyes are brimming with affection. He reaches for your face, you look away, his hand retreats back to his chest.

Terror.

He blinks.

Without knowing it, he's begun to convince you otherwise. You speak, "One must decide... You must decide... If I am worth the risk. Am I worth the risk, Adam Warlock? By choosing to give me all of you, you will be thrust upon hardships and bliss. One but decide, if the bliss will outweigh the hard, or will the hardships swallow up the little bliss you had in the beginning. I... Tend to destroy everything, especially the good," your fingers trailed up his golden cheeks.

"I will leave you desolate and broken... Your team will forsake you," something flickers in his eyes, "I will corrupt the little goodness, the little sense you have left. Nothing of me is worth it," and is your solemn truth.

You look back into his eyes, your face hardened, only to find, that he's smiling. A soft giggle trails out from his lips. You're heavily annoyed. Your face scrunches up. You're opening up and he's. Hes simply laughing. That's when you sit up, almost moving to leave when he shoots upright and grabs you by the shoulders, giggling, and burying his face into your neck. "Pfft-- I'm sorry," he's still. Still laughing.

Your face burns with frustration. You feel your feelings begin to hurt. "You're humiliating me," your voice is squeaky and strained.

His laugh dies a little in him, "Sorry-- Sorry," the tension is thick and stressful. Is that all he was going to say-- "It's just, (y/n)... I think I've decided now," his breath is airy. You tense up immediately, already glancing up at the door. You're never worth it. You sag already.

He speaks, "Your words really opened my eyes."

Ah, you've gone and ruined it, too. You clench up, grabbing chunks of his cape. Why do you not want this to end? You've merely started.

"And I think you're right," he speaks. Why is he so cruel? Why couldn't he have chosen another set of words. Why does he rub it in your face and not quickly get it over it. Just say it. Say he doesn't like you so you can be gone. A tiny, quiet whimper shivers out of you. He speaks, "There are going to be a lot of hardships moving forward for us."

You blink.

You hissed out, "What?"

He pulls out of your shoulder, looking up at you with delighted eyes. "Ah-- Are you crying?" His hand slinks up to wipe away the tears you didn't know where falling.

It only makes this more humiliating for you. You're not weak. You shake your head, "No. Of course not."

His hand drops back to your shoulder. "Aah, okay, okay," he's amused again.

You only get angrier. "So. What does that mean?"

He doesn't scold you, he doesn't get annoyed, he's not angry. He only smiles, effortlessly sweet, following along with your train of thought, a hum in his throat as he chimes matter-of-factly, "Well. It means... I like... I uh-- I like you. And... Yeah. I like you, (y/n)."

You're drowning in disbelief. "But- You said I... You said my words... My words helped you see, I didn't say anything good about us. I dont... I didn't say anything good about me. Why are you deciding to stay?" You don't know it. But you're sort of pushing an idea that Adam Warlock must be flawed if he ever were to pick you.

That's when he takes offense. Not about himself, but about how you think of yourself.

He sighs out loudly, "(Y/n). That's what I like about you..."

"What? That I am-- That I am evil? That I will hurt you? That I promise," you huff.

He speaks, "Yes." You flinch. "That you are moody and indecisive... You think a lot, you're anxious... That you're an inter-galatic terror, and a domestic one," he strokes your cheek again, his tone is soft and affectionate, "I like you. I like that. I like all of you... I like it. You're fun... You're different."

Your shoulders slowly relax, unaware of how your slowly begin to sit in his lap. He's just staring at you now, all proud of himself. You blink. You blink again. "Ah, that's it?" You ask.

"Yes," he giggles.

"That- That wasn't very romantic," your brows furrow.

He giggles again. Adam cups the back of your head, pulling your face towards him, and meeting your face halfway to kiss you, a soft, gentle peck that was intended to be a long kiss, but was interrupted by his hearty laughter.

You huff, "Hey... Tin-man. You... Say something romantic." You're still pretty tense. With a pouty face and glossy eyes, you look like you're on the verge of crying a thousand times over. But. You gaze at Adam, sat in his lap, reminiscent of before, when you met at the party, and now a week later, still falling again and again for his hurtful charm.

He leans forward, taking your down with him, your head falling against his plush ruby pillows. You look so pretty in his bed like this. His heart's racing, those glossy eyes of yours are ever the sweetest. "Ah, I'm sorry, my Empress... I am lucky to be graced with your presence, and spared from your just wraith from my imprudent behavior. Forgive me, sweetness... Love of my," he freezes.

You freeze too. A thick surge of blood rocketing to your face, eyes buldged out.

"Ahem," he looks away in embarrassment. "M-My sweet Empress," he gulps.

"Mmh... I'll think about forgiving you," you chime.

He giggles again, finally, finally succumbing to your sweet lips.

🏆🌟.

You gasp ans shudder, as Adam takes you down into his red sheet. Your marvelous suit was peeled off you by his large hands, each time, he took a second to take it all in, reveling in the sight of new skin, not touching you once until it was all off, discarded to the side.

Your body was pure heaven, he oggled it down, watching how you posed and store up at him, softly aching your back and chest, trying to accentuate your assets, and like a fly in a fly trap, he fell for the honey hook line and sinker. His cock was spitting up on itself, twitching and shaking, as he took the terrifying task of hovering his hand over your glorious tit, his fingers seeming to shake.

He gulps quietly.

He's going for it.

He's really.

"Adam please take your clothes off," You sigh out, pinching your temples.

His bright scleras shine bright in embarrassment, his teeth clenched tightly. He takes a breath to calm himself before he quietly turns off the side of the bed, dropping his pants ans shedding his giant cape. He crawls back in, lips pursed, eyes still locked on your tits. He sits next to you, legs criss crossed, as he leans his head inquistively forward, tucking hair behind his ear on his left side.

And it is with that same left hand that he reaches... And! And!

Hovers his palm over your tit again. He got as far as he could before he could feel your warmth radiating up against him, his cock throbbing pitifully. He senses a change with you, he looks to your face. Surprisingly, you're not angry, you stare at him blankly and calmly, eye fucking his just as much as he to you.

He was golden all over, down to his cock, to his calves and toes, to the tips of his golden hair. His broad body as stocky as a barn, complimenting a tiny waist, built arms and powerful halves. He was so pleasing to look at, how his golden skin reflected and shined under the light so sweetly. He was hairless downstairs, smooth all down, even from his crotch to his legs. Your eyes flickered to his forearm, which was also hairless. Then they landed back to the shaggy hair at the top his head.

He got lucky.

You giggle.

He sucks up the sound. He finally lays a hand on your boob, gasping lowly, as he gives you the tiniest squeeze. He caresses you, lulling his fingers to cup your underside, feeling your hand hard nipples graze under his palm. He pulls his hand up to your collarbone, shuddering as your nipple draws a line on his palm again. He sinks back onto the bud, only this time with his golden fingertips, pulling them into a squeeze. You harden, parting your lips a little.

"Be a bit faster, Adam, I can't wait forever," you whisper.

"R-Right--"

"If you must stare, I perhaps I'll send you a few polaroids," you giggle.

His jaw slacks. As he stutters, "Yes... My Empress but-- I don't know how to do anything else."

You part your legs, flashing your pretty cunt to him. Adam sucks it in. You meticulously slide your hands down your body and to your clit, slowly rubbing circles for him to watch. He turns to you, leaning over to peer at your exposed labia. His dick twitches. He watches you moan before dipping your fingers down, parting your hole with two fingers for him to see.

He slips off the bed, you pay him no mind, as you continue to pleasure yourself. You're magnetic in this moment, eyes shut peacefully, fingering yourself at a quick pace, loving the way your hymen stretched around the entrance and bullying that intensely. He gets to enjoy the best part from here, you dipping in a see of plush red, moaning. He slips back on to the bed, his little moment over, as a new fire overcomes him.

He slots between your legs, holding your thighs, parting them wider, as you pull out of your yo shift and angle for his take down. He rolls out his pink tongue, licking a stripe from your entrance to your clit, looking dead at you as he did so. His heart was beating so fast, he was so nervous. But you couldn't tell, you flushed, patting his head with a whisper, "Good boy."

He he doesn't slow down, not even as his scleras glow brighter with sensitive lust. He's laying full on his stomach, grinding into the sheets as he sticks his whole tongue inside you, squirming it up against your hymen, just how you liked it. "Aah... Adam," you moan. He twists his head, grip intense on your thighs, as he fucks his tongue into you, pawing up around the layer of muscles that tighten around him, squirming the hard tip of his tongue into your walls before thrusting out, thickening his tongue and badgering your entrance with it. All just to slam it back in, erratically swirling his tongue from side to side, thrusting it in deep, flattening out his tongue for the thickness inside of you.

You bucked into him roughly, reaching out and grabbing chunks of his hair.

He could feel your loud moans reverberate through you, as you pushed yourself down on his tongue. His balls jerked, and he gave into the intenseness by grinding down more onto the sheets.

He pulls out to pant, too enamored by the flithy act that he forgets to breathe. He goes back in fast, lapping up your clit and labia, adoring how you felt when he parted you with a flat tongue. Your pussy made all sorts of vulgar sounds, complimenting the grunts that flew out your body.

He really couldn't take this.

He slips his tongue back in, dropping one of your thighs. He rockets his freehand up, snapping sharp into the air. The click comedy with a room shaking buzz, the lights flicker, and with a rough grasp, you feel energy invading your body. It directly attacks your heart, pulling at a strange sensation just behind it- your very essence. Your soul.

You gasp, feeling a phantom heartbeat ring next to yours. It's warm and inviting, full of kindness and light- golden, tasteful-- "A-Adam," you whine out.

Your breath quickens. Your soul is tied to Adam's in this moment, all of you belonging to him. It was odd and strange, the sensation like a relaxing lullaby but burning with passionate energy. You shudder. You can somehow feel Adam, not just his heart but-- feel yourself in his perspective. You can feel his embarrassment, how its hidden by lustful eyes, feel his passion for you, how his whole body seems to burn. As you look down at him, you find he's already staring at you, leaning his head against you thigh, his hair hugging his face.

"He's watching you ride out your high. Your first time ever begin soul-tied to him.

You whine again, hearing his thoughts interrupt you.

You both reach for eachother, sensing it in your souls, as he frees a hand to intertwin with yours. You met half way, yet again, loving his warmth and his company.

You groan and buck your cunt forward, he pulls off your thigh and buries into it on command. His hand runs from thr back of your thigh to the inside, resting right by his cheek to support him in his bullying of your clit. He flicks it and rolls it erratically around, doing all of this on repeat just to pull you into his warm mouth and suck you off.

He can feel your soul cry out, feel how the sensations make you feel, but they coarse through his own body, reverberating inside his being. He can feel what it's like to have your clit bullied, and it forces him to thrust against the bed and grunt, slipping off your clit in the process.

He sighs helplessly, tucking hair behind his ears before drawing an experimental strip up your clit. He can feel the sensation against his cockhead simultaneously. You grunt and buck your pussy forward, your crotch knocks against his nose, and you both hiss upon feeling Adam's pain.

You only need to think it, "Adam, what's going on,"

Before he responds back to you, despite ever speaking a word, "In this moment, I am yours and you are me. Our souls have bonded. I feel all of you," he strokes your thigh, "you feel all of me."

You moan out, "Haa- fuck!" Your eyes rolling back in ecstacy. You can feel his-- or yours-- throb, it's so painfully tense with heavy, shaking balls. His load is going to hard and huge, you can feel the sensation ring up his reproductive systems and to his brain.

The combination of dopamine and oxytocin firing through both of your bodies was an overwhelminf sensation, your mouth grew parched. You finally rested back down onto the pillow, Adam senses your acceptance, and he goes back into you. His work is sloppier, interrupted by his own grunts and moans, but he still fucks your clit up, badgering it, slurping and flickering against it.

You can feel him, feel what it's like to devour you, feel what it's like to sense your pleasure on his cockhead, how these bullying sensations feel like teasing on his cock. You can feel Adam begin to lose it, as he tries to suck up your whole vulva, just to feel the sensation on his cock too.

You grab chunks of his hair, roughly pulling up out of your body with a huff, "Adam- A-Adam hurry up and fuck me," you think.

He's so pitiful in your hold, not even hissing in pain, just thrusting up into the sheets. He nods simply and quietly, sloppily pinning you down. And even sloppier, his head pokes everywhere put your entrance. You can feel his thick head thrust into your folds and part them, twitching before bumping into them again, and again, each in a different area.

You hiss, tightening your death grip on his hair, he whimpers. You use your voice for the first time, "Put it inside, dammit!"

You release him and he drops his head into your neck, biting down hard as he forcefully, and finally, slams all the wall inside. He bottoms out inside you, all glorious seven inches, as he's skinner with a fat head. You both moan out in unison, yours are mostly filled with bright eyed gasps. You can feel your walls tremble around him, what its like to have a hot and heavy cock inside a warm womb, and simultaneously, the thrill of being filled up.

Adam's whimpering, panting, thrusting into you as if you were a pillow. His thrusts are shallow, he's barely leaving you, drowning in your warmth and fucking your cervix at this point. He likes the way it hurts, having your cervix bullied, he likes the sensation that you feel when your pussy's full. He can't leave, he never wants to.

But his man-ly senses override the glory of his new-found feminine desires.

He releases your shoulder, his forehead against yours, tightening his grip on your entwined hands as he fucks you, pulling out and then slamming in harshly, just to do it again. Focused on roughness than speed. "Aah- My! E-Empress," he mewls. He loves the way he feels on your-- more so our- hymen, finally understanding in full why you bullied it so much.

Such a normally restrictive muscle being forced to loosen, the pleasure and pain were comingling into one new, glorious thing. He loved how his head bludgeoned it to stretch, before his skinny cock made it shrink, just for it cry out when it had to deliver his fat head out.

You, on the otherhand, you used your freehand to claw his shoulders, already fucked out of your mind. Your bodies were combining into one sensations, you couldn't separate them the way Adam could. You felt your cock get a tight and hot hole, and your pussy get fed. Like some simple ape, you hollered and moaned in an endless stream, feeling your cock twitch in a pretty orgasm.

"Im- gonna cum," you moaned out, shooting your load into yourself. Only for your pussy to drown in a pretty wave, cumming instantly at the thick, appreciative sprays. You moaned ans arched off the bed, spitting out, "'M cumming a-again!"

Adam shakes, his virgin body forced him to cum again, right after you, his second time today. You moan out again, thwarting your head all the way back, not caring for the pain that rushed up your spine. "C-Came! Th-Thrice," you mewled, your toes flying up clenched.

Adam released your hands as his head fell heavy. His forehead and thr top of his head rested on the bed, his hands scooped up your hips, pressing you against him as if he were lost in a bowing prayer. He fucks into you, still maintaining that sloppy, but incredibly deep pace. He just wants to squeeze around his fat cockhead, and you do so, making him cum once again in your hot walls.

Your claws rip out skin, blood oozing out of your golden back, as you scream. To your magically inexperienced, you've been cumming non-stop, no separation between the two of you. Your mind was in ruins, tearing flooding out your body as you sobbed. Adam felt them swell up in his eyes, as he bits down on the sheets.

His brain rings, "A bit more. Please a bit more i need to remember this forever," Adam thinks. You nod pitifully.

He manages strength to raise his head up, and shoot up fully upright on his knees. He tightens his grip on your hips and fucks speedily, into you, slamming his burly head in your gummy walls, the sickness of a sea of cum aids him to go fast. There's this milky ring that builds on his shaft for every thrust, forcing the sea of cum to dribbling down and spray out when it can. The color was a light golden. Pure strays of gold mixed with your human slick, it's a glittering sight that none of you can behold, too lost in the balance of chemical fires.

Your orgasm is building, he can sends your ovaries forcing out a painful quake. His orgasm is building, you can your-- his-- balls surge.

"Cumming! Big-- Big c-cumming," you try to warn him, but trust me he already knows. You brace yourself, reaching out and grabbing chunks of the red sheets.

"Fuu- Fuck-- (Y/n)-(Y/n)-(Y/n)," he chants, speeding up as his high reached.

He slammed down into your cervix, your highs combined into one explosion, as you exploded out a hot load within yourself, and his ovaries squeezed out every last drop down your womb to meet you. The mess filled your womb up with cum, your breath dulling in your throat, your voice hoarse from the screams you didn't know were falling out.

Adam could barely stand upright, as he trembled from head to toe, jerking and pulsating. The pleasure came with an endless pain that followed, forcing him to snap his fingers, feeling his soul return to his body.

You both gasped at the ready-ness. It felt as if someone forced the lights on in a comfortable, dreary sleep. He pulls out of you and collapses next to you, panting and heaving as it his life depended on it.

His balls had completely tagged, as with his cock, it shrunk behind his foreskin almost instantly. You were still moaning in confusion, forced into another, painful orgasm just as your body returned from being one.

You grunted out, almost instantly flying into his body as he laid down, head resting in his chest, hand grasping at his body. And as you turn on your side, a flurry of cum rockets out of your wall, the sensation is nothing but endless relief. You moan again, unaware of how sweaty and sticky you were, seemingly everywhere.

Adam quickly jumps into action, snuggly pulling you into him as he helps the two of you into the ruined covers, barely resting his head on the pillows before it was lights out for him.

And you, you got to revel in after-glow glory before you too, were knocked out.

🏆🌟

Your eyes burned behind your eyelids, disoriented as you shot up. Your eyes opened shortly after you found yourself upright, instantly noticing how your uterus cramped up tightly before mellowing. You were in a warmlight red room, your hair wild, the strench of sweat and sex pure and thick in the air. You were deathly hungry, deathly parched, and desperately in need of a shower.

What the fuck?

The memories of before hit you like a brick.

You gasp, it's a picture of bewilderment, amazement, and anxious excitement as you turn to Adam in bed. He's grunting awake, laying a hand on his forehead as his eyes pop open.

You nudge him, "Adam." He grunts, his eyes closing blissfully. You nudge him again, "Adam. Adam... Wake up, honey." Your voice is drowning in tender affection.

"Oh fuck," he hisses, as he finally sits up, just like you. "Ah-- Shit... 'Ve got a migraine," he speaks as he keeps his hand against his forehead.

But he smiles oh so gratefully, and oh so tenderly when he sees you. He leans in and pecks a loving kiss on your lips, and you moan awesomely into it. There's this air of awe that suffocates you both as you pull away.

"Fuck," you hiss. "That was," you trail off blissfully.

"Exhilarating," he finishes. Adam slips off the bed, his knees buckling before he catches himself. He looks back at you, and finally gets to see the mess you two have made. His sheets are drowning in crusty sweat, and even worse, smeared with thick white crust in one concentrated area. He cringes bashfully, looking away in disgust and pride.

You walk up to him, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"We need a shower, my sweet," you smile. Your hair's a mess.

He giggles.

The shower, turned bath, was lovely. The two of you engaged in meaningless talk about everything and anything. Like what letter of the alphabet the galaxy would be, and if rocket where a cat would he be less angry? Things that floated from your mind to his, and he simply went along with as he helped you wash and comb out your dirty hair. As he scrubbed himself while you rinsed. And finally, as he snuggled your warm body onto his while you yapped in the hot water.

You've never been so vulnerable, as you laid your bare body against him, your hair up as it sat in his conditioner, his lips and face already familiarizing itself with your neck.

"But out of all the races, I never would've expected a Xyler. Maybe a Luma, but never a Xyler. They're naturally more... Well," you paused in thought, "Reproduction-minded."

"Mmh, I've never been to Wahloni. I wouldn't know," Adam hummed, as his hands worshipped up and down your body, mostly your sweet breasts were played with.

You sighed in content.

"Hey... You ought to pick up your team too... You still have seats to wash, my golden boy," you grin.

He huffs, "Don't remind me." He picks his head up, turning to the large mirror in the bathroom. "Computer," he shouts, it responds with a ding, "what time is it?"

The mirror warps, a holographic "2:30 pm", flashing on the screen.

Your eyebrows furrow. "Huh? You arrived at four?"

"Ah, the clock's messed up... It's probably only eight, I've got until eleven," he speaks. Adam begins to kiss suck your neck, you moan sweetly. "Let's... Play again," he whispers.

You laugh, "No Adam! I still haven't recovered from that."

He kisses your ear, "I won't use my Soul-Bonding."

"No. Not a chance! Trust me, my sweetness, there will be more where that came from. Simply, another time," you turn to him, kissing his lips sweetly.

He wraps arms around your hips.

"Let's clean, my dear," you command him.

The two of you slip out the bathtub after you finish your route. He helps dry you off as he fetches your suits from the hang wrack. They're fully dry, curtesy of their quality, but the two of you decide white robes would be better. Adam loads his sheets in next, while you fetch a while glasses and some wine. He follows you out to the common area, where a nice flat screen descends.

"What time is it, computer," Adam barks again.

"Hello, Adam Warlock. It is 2:57 pm, Eastern Standard."

His eyebrows quirk. "That can't be right?"

"You have 250, new messages. Shall I read them?"

"Fuck-- Yes," Adam tensely folds his arms. You grin at the chaos, pouring your glass.

"From Rocket Raccoon. Where are you dipshit. Do not leave us stranded. From Mantis. Are you okay? We don't mind if you're a little late. From Drax. Hurry the fuck up. From Rocket Raccoon. I will shred you into gold flake--"

Adam gasps, "Wait, computer give me the full date and time."

It spurs, "It is 2:57 pm, January 8th. Drax's birthday is approaching. Should I set a reminder?"

You shoot off the couch.

Adam grabs his locks viciously in his hands as he yells panickedly. "Wait, what? The eighth? That's tom... Holy shit," Adam frantically looks at you.

Your eyes bulged out. "That's! We slept in, Adam!"

In a hurry, the two of you speed in two different directions. You rush to throw on your suit, Adam runs down to the control board. He starts a call, and you can hear Mantis's strained voice as she yells. You don't care to make out the words, quickly collecting every reminder of you ever being here in your pals, as you rush back to Adam.

He turns back from the conversation to you, "Yes! Yes. I was attacked by," his eyes lock onto you, "The! The Empress!"

"Oh god, but it's not even February? Does she not care about the party," Mantis huffs in disbelief.

"She's an animal. Can't expect an animal to follow rules," Rocket gruffs.

You bite your lip. Adam shoots you a soft look.

"I think it was all bark no bite, as I defeated her pretty fast. She chased the ship through the galaxy-- But there's not a scratch on it," he speaks, not looking back at the computer.

"It's villian menopause. She's falling behind. That's what it is," Drax hums.

You clench your fists with angry. Huffing as their conversation drones on.

"I don't know, but Adam. I've got my own adventures to return to, okay," Mantis drones on.

You jester to the door, waving at him. He nods sharply, waving as you rush out. He cant help the warm, affectionate smile thats on his face. They make his next words oddly happy, "I've got it. Don't worry I'm returning."

He'll, see you again.

As you step out into your ship, you rush into the airlocks before opening your hatch, allowing Adam to fly out of your ship's park. And just as you return to your cockpit, your system dings.

"One New Message from Golden Boy, My Empress. Should I read it?"

Your heart flutters, "Yes."

Your system speaks,

"Same time next week? :)"

#adam warlock #adam warlock x reader #adam warlock x you #mcu #mcu fandom #mcu fanfiction #marvel cinematic universe #marvel rivals #marvel rivals adam warlock #adam warlock marvel rivals #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut #marvel characters #marvel

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localsandwichchef · 6 months ago

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What do you mean I’m holding my Pokéball upside down?

#arven rp account #pokeblogging #arven #rotomblr #*confused raccoon noises

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drabblesandimagines · 1 year ago

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Home

Leon Kennedy x female reader I just wanted to write some damsel in distress nonsense with Death Island Leon, but imagine whoever you like! Fluff - though mentions of blood, smatter of death.

Coming to, you feel as if you’re hungover - disorientated, nauseous and a sore head - but that can’t be right, you didn’t drink last night.

It takes a moment to localize the throbbing pain only to the side of your head rather than all over and, as you catch sight of blood smeared against the white tiles of the kitchen floor – something you were desperate to change as white shows up everything - you remember.

You’d been working in the home office. Leon had set it up for himself originally – you’d never been brave enough to research what the price of the beautiful mahogany desk must’ve been, but you’re always sure to use a coaster to avoid marking it. He used a laptop, so he’d insisted you utilize the space instead for your desktop when you moved in over a year ago. It was a nice house, on a quiet, suburban street – he’d bought it as a fixer-upper, a bit of a passion project. The rooms were all in various states of completion but he wanted your opinion and input.

“This is our home,” he’d stressed, before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Plus, you’ll be here more than me…”

You’d heard of the conspiracy theories surrounding the Raccoon City incident. Who hadn’t stumbled down that rabbit hole before? Leon had confirmed it in vague, half-told recollections of the night a few months into your relationship after an argument about his commitment issues, and you hadn’t pressed further than that since. He told you the bare minimum so you were aware of what his work now entailed, why he had to go away for weeks at a time, why he was so desperate to keep his work and personal life separate for your safety and protection.

He accompanied you when he could to family and friends’ celebrations, charmed them all into forgiving him for his flaky appearances, but they could all see how happy you were since the two of you had got together.

You’d been wearing noise-cancelling headphones as you worked to drown out the next door neighbour’s relentless building works that had started on Monday – a basement leak meant the foundations were being fixed and the noise was horrendous - and had gone to the kitchen to make an ill-advised afternoon coffee and…

Nothing.

Well, the building works have stopped which is a positive, but that doesn’t negate the blood on the floor and your thudding head.

“Mrs Kennedy, I presume.” A man, well-dressed in an awful tight-fitting suit kneels down in front of you. He doesn’t look familiar - blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, a bit of stubble, looking tired, mid-40s, you guessed. You’re confused by the way he’s addressed you – you’re not married, there’s no ring there - and he clocks the bemused expression at once. “Or perhaps you’re his whore, waiting for him to return to your little love nest, hm?”

There’s no good answer or witty comeback so you keep silent, instead trying to raise your hand to feel your head, gage how bad it is – head wounds bleed a lot, you knew that much – but your arm doesn’t comply. Your gaze finds the plastic of the zip-tie cutting into your wrist, holding it snugly against the arm of the chair you’re now seated in - dragged in from the dining room.

“Ah, yes.” He cups your chin, tilting your face back towards him in an effort to get you to focus on him. “A necessary measure. I need you to play the damsel in distress.”

“Leon’s not here,” you reply, quietly, words feeling thick on your tongue though it’s not a lie. “He’s away with work - I don’t know when he’s going to be back.”

“Oh, he’s due home very soon. I couldn’t make such a pretty thing wait for days on end.” He lets go of your chin only to place his hand on your thigh, giving it a light squeeze. You try to jerk away from his touch but find your ankles have received the same treatment as your wrists, though tethered together as if to stop you standing.

“I apologize about your head,” he stands up then, a smug look on his face as he towers over you. “I did tell my men to be gentle, but it appears one misunderstood.”

You shuffle in the chair in a pitiful attempt of relieving the pressure on your wrists. “Who are you?”

He clucks his tongue. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

“Kennedy’s ETA is four minutes, sir.” A gruff voice states from behind you.

“Excellent.” Your captor smiles. “I suppose he was hoping to surprise you with his arrival, hm? Nice that we can turn the surprise around on him.” He snaps his fingers at one of his subordinates, “You can gag her now.”

A hand yanks your hair, forcing your head back and you gasp only for a wad of fabric to be stuffed behind your teeth. You try and push it out with your tongue on instinct but another bit of fabric is forced between your lips, keeping it snugly in place as it’s knotted at the back of your head, causing you to whimper – or at least attempt - when he brushes up against your head wound.

There’s a hive of activity around you – the three grunts getting into position, checking their ammo. They can’t just plan to shoot Leon outright, surely. Why would he need a damsel otherwise? Your captor grabs the back of your chair and drags it, positioning it in line with the hallway door, meaning that you will be the first thing he sees. He places his hands on your shoulders and squeezes.

“Showtime.”

Your heart is pounding so loud it’s all you can now hear – maybe it’s so loud Leon will hear with that incredibly sensitive hearing he has before he opens the door, know something’s wrong and get the hell out of here.

No such luck, though. The building work next door hasn’t resumed, so you can hear him cut the engine in the driveway, hear when the Jeep door opens and closes, hear the jingle of his keys in the door. He has his eyes cast down when he enters, immediately turning to the lock the door behind him out of both security and habit.

“Sweetpea?” He sounds upbeat, happy as he calls for you and it breaks your heart all the more when he turns, eyes meeting yours. “Fuck.” He breathes out, taking a hurried step forward, hand automatically reaching for his pistol still holstered on his belt. A loud click pierces through your left ear, cold metal prods into the side of your temple and Leon freezes in place.

“Uh-uh, Kennedy. Unless you wanna see your lovely lady’s brains splattered all over the floor, I’d drop that right now.”

Leon doesn’t hesitate, holding his hands above his head and dropping the pistol to the ground, hitting the wooden floorboards with a thunk.

“Keep those hands up and kick it over.”

Leon complies, kicking the pistol so it skids down the hallway, swiftly collected by one of the grunts.

“Dante.”

“Oh, I’m flattered you remember little ol’ me. Come - join us.” The gun leaves your temple but the fear remains as Leon slowly strides up the hallway, hands still in the air. “Pull Kennedy up a chair and make sure he’s comfortable.” A grunt ducks into the dining room and emerges with one the armless chairs, placing it down heavily on the kitchen tile as Leon enters. He’s swiftly smacked across the face with the butt of a gun, followed up by a punch to the stomach, causing him to double over. Another grunt grabs his arms, yanking them behind his back and you know by the way his biceps tense that he could break out of that hold easily enough, but he’s choosing not to.

You feel horrible that you’re the reason why he’s not.

He’s pushed down onto the chair and his wrists are quickly secured behind his back with a zip tie through the wooden slats. He lifts his head up to reveal a bloodied lip, but his eyes are immediately on you as he speaks.

“She has nothing to do with me and you, Dante.”

“Oh, I know that.” He scoffs, digging his fingernails into your shoulder once more. “But your little sweetpea is so useful in making sure that you remain on your very best behaviour.”

“You’ve got me now, okay?” Leon shrugs his shoulders in demonstration. “Let her go.”

“Aw,” Dante tuts. “Did you think you had her out of harm’s way, Kennedy? Kept your personal life underwraps? Granted I couldn’t quite confirm her name, but here we are all the same. Pretty little thing – shame she had to get wrapped up with you.”

“What do you want?” You can tell Leon’s annoyed, though he keeps his voice measured.

“The Apollo files.”

Leon raises an eyebrow, scoffing. “I don’t ha- Ugh!” The grunt in front of him had pistol-whipped him once more, his nose now bleeding a little in consequence.

“Next time you tell a lie, your woman is going to get the same treatment.” You grip the armrests in apprehension and Leon once again tenses as he notes your discomfort.

“Okay, okay! They’re in the attic. One of the storage boxes up there – there’s not many. Against the south wall.”

“Good boy.” Dante chuckles, ruffling his hand through the agent’s hair condescendingly. “You two - with me,” he points at two of his men, before turning to the third. “You, keep an eye on the lovebirds.”

“Be careful where you step up there – I haven’t put in a permanent floor. Been busy.” Leon retorts.

“Aw, boys, he’s worried we’ll hurt ourselves.” He grabs Leon by the chin then, squeezing his cheeks. “We’ll be right back. I wouldn’t want to keep this lovely lady waiting any more than she has to.”

He shoves Leon’s face to the side and heads out to the hallway, the two grunts following as the third remains in position to the side, gun in hand.

“I’m so sorry, sweetpea, but I’ll get you out of this – I swear.“ Leon says softly, turning his head to the side to look at you. “Okay?”

You nod – there’s little else you can do – but you know you’re shaking. You hate yourself for doubting him, but you can’t see how the two of you are getting out of this in one piece. He doesn’t say anything more, his eyes flitting from one direction to another as he calculates his moves for what feels like hours.

The building work next door resumes – a loud drilling echoing around the kitchen. The grunt winces at the sound and Leon gets to his feet, arms still bound around the dining chair and headbutts him, sending him stumbling back, blood gushing from a broken nose. Leon spins then, slamming the chair against the marble countertops, splintering the wood and releasing himself from the chair. He then jumps again, tucking his legs impressively close to his chin, though letting out a strangled grunt and his bound hands are now in front of him. He lifts up his knee, tenses his biceps and slams it down, the zip-tie splintering across the floor – all in the time it takes the grunt to come to his senses and aims his gun blindly, sending bullets thankfully in every direction but yours.

Leon ducks and dives, swiftly grabbing the grunt around the neck with an arm and holding it tight, cutting off his air supply until he goes limp in his arms and he grabs hold of the man’s gun, quickly checking the cartridge with one smooth downward motion.

A bullet sails over his shoulder as one of the grunts returns from upstairs and Leon quickly takes him out with a headshot. You divert your eyes then, not wanting to see. It’s them or you – you know that – but it doesn’t make the act easier to witness.

It is barely a second before another gunshot rings out, followed by a second - Dante and the remaining man at the kitchen doorway, though the grunt goes down as quickly as he entered due to Leon’s return fire.

Dante’s face is furious, his gun aimed squarely at your head and he pulls the trigger. Leon sidesweeps the chair legs from under you, sending the chair toppling backwards and you with it, your head smacking once more against the tile and making your ears ring and vision dance with black. The bullet soars over your head and into the kitchen cabinet.

There’s another gunshot, a horrible, squelching sound, and then a series of grunts and groans – flesh on flesh – but you can’t look up, can’t see what’s going on as a succession of gunshots ring out and there’s the sound of a body hitting the floor.

There’s the clatter of a drawer being opened frantically and then, suddenly, Leon is above you – his shoulder bloody – and a knife in his hand. He lifts your head up gently, cutting through the back of the gag and pulls it away from your mouth, fishing out the fabric that had been making you feel close to choking.

“You’re okay, I’ve got you.” He says softly as you catch your breath, taking glorious mouthfuls of air. “Stay still, okay? I’ll get these off you.” He presses the blade against your wrist with a careful flick and you’re released from the first of your restraints. He makes quick work of your other wrist and the ones around your ankles, pulling you up into his arms, cradling you in his lap.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, rocking you back and forth. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Leon, it’s-”

“Don’t say it’s okay. It’s not okay. I promised to never get you mixed up in this. I don’t know how they found this place, how they found you. I’ve been so fucking careful, baby.” His voice breaks, along with your heart.

“I know you have.” You try and soothe. “It’s not fair, but it’s not your fault, sweetheart. I love you.”

He presses his lips to yours then, kissing you softly. “Love you too – so much. Feel so selfish.”

“Uh-uh, no – you deserve to be happy. I want to make you happy.”

“You do, sweetpea, but-“

“If I can’t say it’s okay, you can’t go down this road either and we both can’t pout about it.”

He sniffs, rolls his eyes and you finally remember the blood patch on his shoulder.

“Did you get shot?” He shakes his head. “Grazed me. I’m fine. You, however, need a full check-up.”

“If I’m having one, you’re having one too. We can have a date to the emergency room.”

He laughs – it’s nice to hear, to see the smile reaching his eyes. “I owe you a much better date than that.”

“Nah – maybe they’ll put you in a hospital gown.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“What?” You bite your lip.

“The ones that don’t tie at the back?”

“Oh, don’t they? Interesting.”

He kisses you again then, with a bit more passion than before. “Baby, you do not have to get me in a hospital gown to see my ass.”

“Who said anything about seeing your ass? Get your head out the gutter, Mr Kennedy.”

Leon rolls his eyes once more, getting to his feet with ease with you still in his arms. He pushes your face into his chest as he walks towards the front door.

“Leon, no, you need to rest your shoulder. Put me down - I can walk.”

“Don’t want you to see.” He murmurs. “I’m gonna get you in the Jeep, call work quickly – they’ll come sort this mess – then straight to the hospital.”

You keep quiet then, closing your eyes and inhaling his scent as you nuzzle your head against his chest, a realisation hitting you.

“We won’t be coming back here, will we?”

He pauses, fiddling with the keys in lock.

“I’m sorry. I know you were finally feeling at home here and-”

“No.” You cut him off. “Home is us together – wherever. Okay?”

“Yeah.” He opens the door. “You’re right. Home is with you, sweetpea.”

Comments, likes and reblogs make my whole day x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

#ghostdogwrites #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you

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p1nkprincess444 · 3 months ago

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ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ - ᴛᴏᴍ ᴋᴀᴜʟɪᴛᴢ

female!reader x zombie! tom kaulitz

word count: 1,058

contents: apocalypse, fluff, slightly gore-ish, small angst

part two

It had been almost ten days since the break out, you hadn’t seen your boyfriend in twelve. Almost no one understood what was happening, but those infected were that of zombies. You were completely and utterly alone as your parents never came home from work the day of the outbreak. You were camped out in your basement, you had used whatever you could find in the house to attempt to barricade yourself in, but already your food was running low. You cursed yourself for not picking up the groceries your mother asked you to as your stomach growled once more. You decided against moving the barricades from the doors, your eyes locking on a small basement window. You pried open the painted over window managing just barely to squeeze through the small frame. You were immediately alert to how your once vibrant neighborhood was that of a ghost town. You wearily made your walk to the store occasionally hearing a noise or birds chirping as if nothing was wrong. When you entered the store you were met by a few stray raccoons rummaging through the half opened bags of food. You grabbed a few bags filling them with whatever was left on the shelves not bothering with the perishables.

You safely made it back to you with your food but you realized a stranger had crawled in through the opened window. You cautiously clutched a board game box, the only thing you thought could be used as a weapon in the barely furnished basement. Your nails were digging into the soft cardboard as you kicked open the bathroom door. You were met with big orange eyes and the soft mewling of what appeared to be a stray black kitten. You sent down the box picking up the small animal cradling it in your arms. You didn’t feel so alone as you slept with the kitten in your arms that night.

It was now day fourteen and it was the fourth day you had spent looking for Tom. You didn’t find any trace of him in his house, at the recording studio, the last place to check was the school.

You wandered into the abandoned school building, the lights flickering adding to the ominous feel. You jumped what felt like five feet in the air when you heard what sounded like a metal tray clattering to the floor down the hall. You cautiously made your way to the chemistry lab or what was left of it. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what you saw.

Your boyfriend was tearing at the throat of one of your former classmates, the boy's face was frozen in terror with blood sprayed across it. Almost as if Tom could sense your presence his head slowly lifted from the boy's throat turning to look at you. His mouth was covered in blood, his hands and nails covered in dirt with blood under his nails, he looked utterly bedraggled. You couldn’t move as you stood in the doorway with tears in your eyes clouding your vision, his appearance was starkly contrasting with his previous one, what happened to the boy you love?

Tom approached you as your eyes quickly blinked away your tears that blurred your vision. He stared at you with a familiar curiosity, almost as if he recognized you. His hands moved to grasp your arms, his nails digging in but not piercing the skin. Tears freely ran down your cheeks as his dark sunken eyes stared into yours. Your body tensed as he slowly leaned in his mouth centimeters away from your neck. You were shaking in his arms as you waited for the inevitable to happen, but instead he sniffed you. Confusion flashed across your face, he held you still as he pulled his head back looking into your eyes. His arms locked around you in an instant pulling you into an almost crushing embrace. He wreaked of decay and rot as he held you close, you couldn’t tell if it was Tom smelling that way or the dead bodies that were attracting maggots on the floor.

“ Girlfriend. ”

That was the only thing he could say. It broke your heart that Tom had turned into this, you knew you couldn’t just leave him here to feast off rotting bodies.

“ Come with me, okay? ”

You managed to get Tom into a basement. You had a small set up now, your food and snacks were in the closet along with the kittens food, you had moved your mattress into the basement as well as blankets and pillows. There was already a small television in the basement along with a dvd player and an endless supply of dvd’s you made the best of what you could.

You sat immediately and brought Tom into the small basement bathroom beginning to run a warm bath as you undressed him. His once warm and lively skin was now pale and bluish, his skin was cold and rough to the touch as you helped into the bath. You pampered him the way you would a small child washing his unkempt hair after you removed his disheveled braids. Once the more pungent smell of decay left his skin you helped him from the bath drying his now somewhat warm skin. You dressed him in clothes you had taken from his house, you packed them in hopes you would see him again, but didn’t imagine it this way.

You both were now sat on top of your mattress watching Jaws as you rebraided Tom’s hair to the best of your ability. He had been relatively calm the whole time, only once panicking when soap got in his eyes, but he jerked away from you when your small kitten rubbed against his legs. He stood upright, his hair only half braided as he practically ran from the cat to the otherside of the basement.

“ It’s only a cat- He’s harmless Tom. ”

Tom knew he should trust you; he was terrified of the innocent-looking animal. You didn’t want to panic him more so you tucked the cat away in the bathroom. Tom eventually relaxed once more allowing you to finish his braids and lay him down.

The blankets were draped over both of you, but you weren’t asleep unlike Tom. Thoughts were running through your head trying to make sense of it all.

#fluff #tom kaulitz angst #angst #light angst #tom kaulitz smut #tokio hotel smut #tom kaulitz x you #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz boyfriend #tom kaulitz #i love tom kaulitz #kaulitz twins #zombie

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rory-cakes · 10 months ago

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The Crew! Part 1!

A series of Incorrect quotes with Birdy!reader and the Hazbin Crew!

Birdy: I would never say that my partner is a bitch and I don’t don’t like them. That’s not true… My partner is a bitch and I like them so much!

*Part 5 essentially*

Alastor: Pros and cons of dating me.

Alastor: Pros. You'll be the cute one.

Alastor: Cons. Holy shit, where do I begin-

Angel: Bonjour, Husk. Voulez–vous coucher avec moi?

Husk: No, I don't want to sleep with you.

Angel: Is that what that means? Oh, man, I had a really gross tennis instructor.

Vaggie: You look like a corpse that was just pulled out of the river.

Angel: Wrong. I look like a cool rock star who just OD'd in his own pool. Big difference.

Lucifer to Charlie: Stop saving the world and get a hobby.

Husk: Is this gaslighting? Am I being gaslit?

Alastor: If I were gaslighting you, you’d never know it.

Husk: Is THAT gaslighting?

Alastor: Shut up.

Birdy, teaching Charlie to drive: Okay Charlie, what does a green light mean?

Charlie: Go!

Birdy: A red light?

Charlie: Stop!

Birdy: And what about a yellow light?

Charlie: If you floor it, you can make it!

Birdy: …No—

Angel: As someone who has a long history of not understanding anything, I feel confident in my ability to continue not knowing what is going on.

Alastor: Alright, listen up you little shits.

Alastor: Not you Birdy. You’re an angel and we’re thrilled you’re here.

*Squad is playing Among Us*

Lucifer: I believe Vaggie is innocent, I was with them the whole time. Alastor, what were you doing?

Alastor: Oh, I was just murdering… I mean, nothing!

Vaggie: What's this?

Chalie, hugging Vaggie: Affection!

Vaggie: Disgusting.

Vaggie: ...Do it again.

Vaggie: Any idiot would know that.

Nifty: I knew that!

Vaggie: See?

Lucifer: I don’t think the therapist is supposed to say ‘wow’ that many times during their first session with a client, but here we are.

Charlie: We’re kind of missing something guys.

Angel: Cohesion?

Vaggie: Teamwork?

Husk: A general sense of what we’re doing?

Lucifer: And Birdy is not here.

Husk: Oh, and that, yeah.

Lucifer: I hate you with every inch of my body!

Alastor: That’s not a lot of inches.

*in a group chat*

Angel: First one to reply is gat.

Angel: *gay

Angel: Wait...

Birdy: *eating a cinnamon roll*

Everyone: Cannibalism.

Birdy: *confused chewing noises*

Angel: Here’s the cold medicine you asked for.

Husk: *dumps 3 shopping bags of wine on the table*

Birdy: ...Thanks.

Birdy: Don't break someone's heart, they only have one.

Alastor: Break one of their bones instead, they have 206 of them.

A/n: Hope You enjoyed!!

Taglist: @crazed-flower, @nanamunath, @preferably-fictional, @eccedentesiast-sapphic, @leximus98, @cupidsgift, @mag-chan, @stygianoir, @thereeallink, @yelloeukulele, @mariaclarade-la-cruz1, blurpleuni-squid, @galaxywing-has-adhd, @just-here-reading, @deez-nuts0, @strawberry-gothic, @purplerose291,@1-800-mocha, @trashbin-nie, @queenmizuki, @nkirukaj @bennythebitch @otherthoughtsofbu, @fantasycantasy, @hunnybee11626, @notally-tormal, @valerie-36, @lovingyeet, @holographicage, @har-har-harvey, @i-love-jafar, @cupidsgift, @meow-meowo, @theblueslytherin, @deadt3tinside, @lyralibra, @the-unhinged-raccoon, @avitute, @alastorswifeee, @stygianoir, @sideshow-b0b, @deadlymouse123, @mysingularitybts, @emotionalfangirl2002, @t0xic1vi, @goodlittlepup, @starsatmyhome, @wendds, @reader3, @redfoxgotlost, @hurthermore, @frostychurro, @isa-dragon, @makandcheese04, @sassypeiceofshit, @kenzi-woycehoski, @otherthoughtsofbu

#hazbin hotel #x reader #x reader fic #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor altruist #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #alastor #alastor x you #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x angel!reader #alastor x wife reader #alastor x y/n

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latanyalove · 1 year ago

Text

I'm Right Here With You

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Pairing: Chopper x Motherly Y/N (Slight Zoro x Y/N)

Content: Discrimination against Straw Hats, misunderstandings, light angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending in part 2

A/n: Part 2 Here! I'm so happy and grateful for passing 200 followers! For that, we are celebrating this little one's birthday, who is also mine and Zoro's child. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing this! <3

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Happy Birthday to my Little Raccoon Dog!

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Even though you were new to the Straw Hat Pirates, there was one member that you had quickly grown close to.

The adorable doctor of the ship: Tony Tony Chopper.

Due to the fact that you are naturally capable of manipulating water without eating a devil fruit, you have suffered a lot of injuries trying to control the sea as a result.

Which meant a lot of visits to the doctor's office, which was great for the both of you. You healed quicker and Chopper had the chance to test out some medicine on you as well as get special plants from the ocean.

Nami would say that you two were two peas in a pod, which would confused Chopper and ask you to explain what it means to him.

You often attended to Chopper's needs, acting like a mother or older sister figure towards him. You would make sure he was eating properly and scold him if he was being reckless.

Chopper would often confide in you, as he knew that you would be able to provide him with the understanding and care he needed.

The crew had just arrived at a new island: even though the crew had been to many weird islands, this one was in the top ranks.

Apparently the whole island thought that they were in the year 1890, their dressing completely different compared to the crews clothes, all of us receiving stares especially towards Nami, Franky and Brook.

"Why is she wearing hardly any clothes?" "Is she not ashamed?" "She must be a slut,"

Listening for only a second, you quickly drapped your coat over her shoulders, staring back at the civilians. Nami looked self-conscious, which was never the case. Ever.

Luffy didn't even know half of the words that were said but seeing Nami's reaction made him boil in anger. Fortunately Franky caught on and closed Luffy's mouth before he would start yelling at the citizens.

"Let me go!" Luffy tried to say but Franky whispered something which kept him quiet for the meanwhile.

After a while, the mayor finally revealed himself to them, demanding why pirates were coming to 'terrorize' this island.

The calmest of the crew, Nico Robin, stepped forward and tried to explain herself but the mayor wasn't calm enough to be reasonable.

"Liar! Pirates are never to be trusted!" The mayor stated, looking for the residents to make the scene bigger.

"Mr. Mayor," Robin started, her voice unrecognisable as the rest of her words were whispered but it seemed to have made an impression on the leader.

"Oh- Okay, you have until tomorrow night to get out of here," The mayor said, trying to mask his fear with a fake confidence.

Robin turned around with a smile, pleased with her work.

"Let's go back to the ship to figure out a plan," She said and we quickly agreed, a path was given back to the ship in an instant. . . .

Chopper had been walking with his crew members through the town aware of the stares that he was receiving but it didn't affect him as much.

He had grown accustomed to the curious gazes and judgmental whispers that followed him wherever he went. He knew that being different was part of his identity as a reindeer with human-like abilities, and he had learned to embrace it.

"Mother! Please help me!"

Chopper's ears perked up amidst the noise of the town, and he quickly turned his head towards the desperate cry for help. Despite the stares and whispers, his compassionate nature couldn't ignore the plea of a child in need.

With a determined stride, Chopper followed the voice, ready to lend a helping hand.

I'll be back soon guys.

Navigating through the crowd, Chopper's hooves barely made a sound as he closed in on the source of distress. The echoes of the child's sobs grew louder, tugging at his heartstrings and fueling his determination to bring solace and assistance.

"Shut up little child!" "Stop crying!"

Chopper witnessed something terrifying: two drunk men beating up a child. His instincts kicked in, eating a Rumble ball to be in the Horn Point form as he rushed forward, using his strong antlers to fend off the attackers and protect the defenseless child.

With the attackers quickly defeated, Chopper's attention shifted entirely to the frightened child.

He turned into his Brain Point form before kneeling down beside them, he offered a gentle smile and reassurance.

"What's your name?" Chopper asked softly, his voice filled with genuine concern.

The child sniffed and looked up at him, their eyes wide with fear. "M-Mark," they stammered, their voice trembling.

Chopper nodded, his heart swelling with a mix of compassion and determination. "Don't worry, Mark. You're safe now. Are you hurt anywhere?"

Mark shook his head, realizing that Chopper was not a threat. Grateful tears welled up in Mark's eyes as he whispered, "Thank you. I'm just scared, but I'm not hurt."

"Mark! Baby! Where did you go!?"

Chopper's ears perked up at the sound of the female voice, and he turned his head to see a woman frantically searching for Mark.

With a reassuring smile, he gestured towards the child and said, "Don't worry, I found him. He's safe with me."

"Thank you so much! I was so worried," the woman said, tears of relief streaming down her face as she embraced her child tightly.

"Come on, Mark, we have to go meet up with your father," she said, grabbing his hand and dragging him away.

As Chopper watched them walk out of the alleyway, he noticed that there were more women with their sons walking in the same direction at the same time.

It was a peculiar sight, but Chopper understood that he couldn't judge their traditions or the reasons behind their actions.

Maybe it was Mother's day? Or a mother and son bonding day for the island?

Suddenly Mark looked back, his eyes filled with terror instead of gratitude.

It was clear that the woman claiming to be his mother was not who she seemed.

Though before he could do anything about it, he felt something make contact with his head, knocking him out. Darkness consumed Chopper as he lost consciousness, unaware of the danger that awaited him. . . .

It has been 2 hours since Chopper had gone missing and you really started to worry. You couldn't help but imagine all the possible dangers he could be facing out there alone in the dark, and the thought made your heart sink.

Even though Luffy said he would be alright, you couldn't help yourself from envisioning Chopper in dangerous situations. Thoughts of him being chased by predators or getting lost in unfamiliar territory consumed your mind, causing your anxiety to intensify.

"He's going to be alright," a voice said behind you, making you jump.

You turned around to see Zoro standing there, a reassuring smile on his face. "Chopper is resourceful and has survived countless dangers before."

"I know but I can't help but worry," you said, your voice trembling with concern. "I know Chopper is resourceful, but what if this time is different? What if he's in real danger?"

Zoro's smile faded slightly, but he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "He's tough remember, he's part of this crew for a reason,"

You nodded, staring out towards the island from where they were docked, and tried to find solace in Zoro's words. Deep down, you knew he was right. Chopper had always managed to find his way back to the crew, no matter how dire the circumstances.

Your heart still ached with worry, but you held onto the hope that Chopper's resilience would once again lead him safely back to the Sunny.

Without saying anything, you saw Zoro hand you a bottle of sake and you accepted it, taking a large gulp of it. As the warm liquid burned its way down your throat, you felt a sense of temporary relief wash over you.

"I've been meaning to ask, why do you act so motherly towards Chopper?" Zoro asked curiously, breaking the silence.

You paused for a moment, contemplating his question. "I guess it's because I see a bit of myself in him," you replied. "I know what it's like to feel scared and alone, and I just want to protect him like I wish someone had protected me."

Zoro nodded understandingly, his gaze softening. "Well, he's lucky to have you looking out for him," he said sincerely.

"Since we're asking questions, why do you act so fatherly towards Chopper?" you said, turning to face him.

There was hardly any space between the both of us since you were sitting close to him but you didn't care. Zoro, however, seemed taken aback by your question, his cheeks turning red and his eyes widening in surprise.

After a moment of hesitation, he finally replied, "I guess it's because I see him as a younger brother?"

"Is that all?"

"No," he muttered, his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. "It's not just that. I care about him, just like I care about you."

His words hung in the air, and you felt your heart skip a beat at the unexpected confession.

"Well, I guess that makes you the overprotective dad and me the overly concerned mom of Tony Tony Chopper," you chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

Zoro's cheeks turned even redder, but a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"Yeah, he's lucky to have us as his parents," Zoro replied, his grin growing wider.

As the tension between you and Zoro reached its peak, the air crackled with anticipation. Time seemed to stand still as his lips brushed against yours, sending an electric shock through your entire body.

The kiss was soft yet passionate, igniting a fire within you that you never knew existed. Every touch, every caress, spoke volumes of the unspoken desires that had been brewing between you. In that moment, it was as if the world faded away, leaving only the two of you, lost in a sea of euphoria and longing.

"Zoro, are you there?" The voice of Luffy was loud, enough for the both of us to back away from each other in embarrassment. The moment shattered, leaving us with flushed faces and a lingering tension that neither of us knew how to address.

"I'll go with him," Zoro said, quick to get up and leave, his sudden departure leaving you with a mix of confusion and disappointment.

You couldn't help but wonder if the intensity of the moment had scared him off or if there were other factors at play.

You couldn't help but wonder if Zoro's sudden departure meant that he didn't have romantic feelings for you. The lingering uncertainty left you questioning whether the kiss had fallen short of his expectations or if there were other reasons behind his retreat.

Was the kiss not good enough for him? It was your first kiss after all.

"Hey guys! Did you know what happened at the base?" A voice below at the dock said, capturing your interest. Curiosity piqued, you leaned over the railings of the ship to catch a glimpse of the commotion down below.

"No, I've been stuck guarding the area."

"Well I heard that the pet of the Straw Hats, Tony Tony Chopper was captured using our simplest trick," The male laughed, "And here I thought that they were strong!"

Your heart sank as you quickly sobered up at the mention of Chopper's capture. The playful moment with Zoro was instantly forgotten as a wave of worry and determination washed over you. You knew you had to find Chopper and bring him back safely, no matter the cost.

Sorry everyone, I couldn't wait any longer.

Without a second thought, you jumped off the ship and quietly followed the sound of their conversation, determined to rescue Chopper and ensure his safety.

You weren't the best at stealth, but you managed to stay hidden and follow them to their base, careful not to alert anyone of your presence.

As you approached the entrance, you couldn't help but feel a surge of adrenaline and determination, knowing that Chopper's safety depended on your next moves.

"The password?" A voice said behind the door.

"Evolution prevails," The man said confidently and in a matter of seconds, the door opened.

Right. You knew the password, now you just needed to infiltrate the base, without knowing how strong or how many they are.

Maybe you should have waited for Luffy's command.

No, Chopper needs you right now. He could be in the brink of death and you're the only one in the whole crew who knows more than just CPR.

You walked to the door and knocked twice like the previous did, saying "Evolution prevails,"

The door swung open, revealing a dimly lit corridor. As you stepped inside, the sound of faint footsteps echoed in the distance, urging you to tread carefully.

Since you were fairly new to the crew, you didn't have a wanted poster yet so it was easy to talk to people without being noticed.

"Hey old man, do you know where Tony Tony Chopper is being held?" you asked the elderly man who seemed to be drinking alone. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of surprise and caution.

After a moment of hesitation, he leaned in closer and whispered, "You're looking for the pet of the Straw Hats? What do you want with them? Are you supposed to be guarding them?"

"Yeah, I'm new here," You muttered, holding back from sending the man flying.

"Really? Well you're in luck, you get to take care of the weakest prisoner. He's already been beaten up in the basement so you can just watch or join in with the beatings!" The old man laughed.

"Who knew that the future King of the Pirates would recruit such a useless-"

He was on the verge of finishing his sentence when his own drink flew out of his cup, forming a helmet around the top of his head and drowning himself in the alcohol.

Instantly, panic erupted in the bar as the old man desperately tried to break free from the makeshift helmet of his own drink, while the other workers looked on in shock and disbelief.

The chaotic scene caused a momentary distraction, allowing you to slip away unnoticed and continue your search for Tony Tony Chopper.

You ran through the corridors, your heart pounding with each step as the image of Chopper's injured form lingered in your mind.

The urgency pushed you forward, determined to find him before it was too late. Every passing second only fueled your anxiety, driving you to search even harder for any sign of your little reindeer.

It was then that you found a staircase going downstairs, leading you deeper into the labyrinthine prison. With each step, the air grew colder and the atmosphere more oppressive, heightening your sense of foreboding.

"Please help!" "This is hell!" "I'll pay you to let me out!"

The desperate pleas and cries for help echoed through the prison, creating an eerie chorus that sent chills down your spine. The darkness of the corridors seemed to consume the flickering lights, adding to the feeling that you had indeed descended into the depths of hell itself.

Chopper, just wait a little.

As you made it to the end of the staircase, adrenaline coursing through your veins, you wasted no time in searching every jail cell with unwavering determination. With each guard that stood in your way, you swiftly overcame them, using your water ability to ensure nothing would stop you from finding and rescuing Chopper.

The prisoners ranged from young to old, humans to animals, but all of them were beaten up and injured. Their bodies bore the marks of brutality and their faces were etched with pain and despair.

It was a grim sight that served as a constant reminder of the cruelty and suffering within the prison walls.

"Y/N?" A voice whispered from a cell you quickly past by.

You recognized that voice straight away, turning back to look inside the cell. It was Tony Tony Chopper, his small frame huddled in a corner, his eyes filled with fear and hope as he saw you.

"Chopper!" you exclaimed, rushing to the cell and reaching through the bars to hold his trembling hand. "I found you. We're getting out of here."

You were shocked when you saw how beaten up Chopper was. His fur was matted with blood, and his limbs trembled with pain as he weakly clung to your hand.

It was clear that he had endured unimaginable suffering, and your heart ached with a mix of anger and determination to rescue him from this hellish prison.

"Y/N?" Chopper asked in a shaky voice.

"Yes Chopper?" You answered, looking through all of the unconscious guards clothes to find a key from the cell.

"Am I really the weakest?" Chopper asked, his voice filled with self-doubt.

You looked into his eyes, filled with determination, and replied, "No, Chopper. You are strong in your own way."

After finding a key, you quickly let him out, unlocking the cell door and embracing Chopper tightly.

Feeling the warmth of his trembling body against yours, you held Chopper tightly, letting him know that he was safe now and that you would protect him with all your strength.

"I thought you guys were going to leave me here," he cried, clinging onto you, his small body shaking with relief.

"Never," you whispered, wrapping your arms around him even tighter. "I will always be there for you, Chopper. As your mother, I would never leave you."

As Chopper clung onto you, his trembling body slowly started to relax. He looked up at you with tear-filled eyes and let out a small, shaky laugh.

"Now come on, let's get back before Dad gets mad," You said, remembering the event of before.

"Dad?"

"You know, the swordsman that always carries you around," You reminded him.

Seeing his face light up made you smile. "Zoro is my dad?!"

You nodded, enjoying to see the grin on his face.

"Hey! A prisoner is escaping!" A guard yelled from a distance.

You quickly snapped back into reality, realizing the danger that lurked outside the cell.

As the guard's shout echoed through the corridor, the sound of heavy boots hitting the ground grew louder, reverberating against the cold stone walls. Each thud seemed to send shockwaves of fear through your body, reminding you of the urgent need to escape and the perilous journey that lay ahead.

"Just don't let go and let me do the rest," you instructed Chopper, tucking him closer to your chest, as you both sprinted down the dimly lit corridor, adrenaline pumping through your veins.

Your ability was very useful since the basement was basically flooded.

As you ran through the flooded basement, you summoned your power, manipulating the water to rise and swirl around you. With a flick of your wrist, you sent powerful torrents crashing into the guards, knocking them off their feet and rendering them unconscious.

Water obeyed your every command, becoming a formidable weapon that cleared your path and thwarted anyone who dared to oppose you. . . .

By the time you two had made it out of the base, you were battered and bruised just like Chopper, your bodies bearing the physical scars of the fierce battle you had fought.

You breathed hard, trying to catch the breath that was knocked out of you moments ago by the doorman. The adrenaline still coursing through your veins, you glanced at Chopper and saw a worried look in his eyes.

"Y/N? Are you okay?" He asked worriedly, looking back to see if anyone was following us.

You reassured him with a faint smile, your voice filled with determination, "I'm fine, Chopper. We made it out together, and I won't let anyone harm us."

As you staggered, each step feeling heavier than the last, you kept your eyes set on the sea shore, where your crew members would be waiting for you in worry.

What would they think of you? Will they be disappointed when they see you because you disobeyed your captain's orders? Will they kick you out of the crew? Will Zoro, Luffy's first mate, hate you?

As you struggled to stay on your feet, the waves crashing against the shore seemed to grow louder. Chopper's worried face blurred in and out of focus, and before you could answer his question, darkness enveloped you, and you succumbed to unconsciousness.

"Y/N! Y/N please get up! If we get to the ship, I can use my medicine to heal you so stay awake until then!" Chopper said, panicked.

"Please, mom," you heard the distress in his voice as Chopper pleaded for you to stay conscious.

The sound of his worry cut through the darkness that surrounded you, urging you to fight against the pull of unconsciousness and make it to the ship where he could treat your injuries. . . .

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