#chest doc anon

[shepscapades]

Shep roughly how often does Etho attempt to interface with BDubs?

I don’t think it’s ever really a conscious decision (he knows that he won’t ever be able to actually “sync” or interface in the way the mechanic is designed to work, since Bdubs is human)—but after they’re together (and admittedly, likely a few times before then on accident—hence the gloves to try to prevent it—), I imagine it just kinda happens sometimes. It’s an unconscious slip here and there, the skin on his fingers or cheek or wherever Bdubs is sweetly/softly touching just slowly melding away, kind of as a vulnerable show of affection/intimacy, most of the time unintentional.

I will say though (and i think I’ve mentioned this somewhere? Idk where), the “exposed white shell” of the androids’ forms are actually more sensitive to physical sensation! Something something about the skin overlay creating a muted buffer between an android’s touch sensors and the world :] So when they reveal their shell/it gets damaged and they can’t put the skin-tone overlay over it, the exposed parts are a little more vulnerable, both in the intimate sense and also in the like. Damage sense. If that makes sense! LOL

[acotarxreader]

Other Worlds

Azriel x reader

Synopsis: Nesta accidentally pulls you from our realm into theirs and a certain Spymaster can't help but be enamoured.

Original Request: "So I was wondering if you could do like Reader is from the modern world but ends up in the ACOTAR world, and ends up like falling in love with one of batboys."

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of cuts from a fall, my silly wordplay

A/N: I loved writing this, it really had me in my silly sense of humor (at one point Azriel is jealous because he thinks Xanax is a person) and just like also so happy to have written my first request! I hope you like it Anon and tolerate my silliness.

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“Do you think she’s dead?”

“Hard to say, you fall that height and would expect it” Nesta gently rocked the body back and forth with the sole of her shoe and you groaned.

“This is exactly why you shouldn’t practice without Amren Nesta” Feyre bit out.

“And how was I supposed to know that a human would fall out of the sky? And besides, I did catch her before she hit the ground” Feyre gave a huff to her sister’s bored tone. 

“But not before all the trees Nesta”

“Details, details”

“Rhys is gonna kill you, we have to move her before he finds out” Feyre got level with your marbling body, sticks and leaves sticking out of your hair from your fall through the canopy above. Nesta folded her arms across her chest in protest as Feyre rolled you onto your back, a deep whimper escaping your throat.

“Well she’s not dead”

“For now” Nesta raised an amused eyebrow before rolling her eyes and squatting to lift your feet as Feyre caught your shoulders with her own disapproving look. 

“Her clothes are so odd, is it continent fashion?”

“Hard to say, the material on her legs is so…dense?” Nesta replied, a thumb rolling over the cuff of your jeans, your Doc Marten burying into her sternum.

The two sisters carried your weak body through the hillside towards the cabin they had retreated to for a break from the Illyrians. They reached the humble home after a small uphill climb in the Winter air and gently placed you down on the couch again. The two stood then at the foot of the couch, unsure of what to do next with their new house guest, a thud from outside followed by a swear interrupting their thoughts. 

“Shit it's Azriel with the food supplies you forgot”

“You forgot” Feyre returned

“Whatever, here help me cover her” The two sisters sheathed you in a thick woollen blanket as Azriel pushed through the door causing the females to shoot straight up, standing shoulder to shoulder to try to hide you behind them. 

“Hey, I dropped a bottle of liquor on the path sor- what are you two doing?” he looked suspiciously at the two, plopping the crate of food down by the mouth of the door. 

“Nothing!” their heads snapped to one another at the same time, cursing their simultaneous reply. 

“You two have the same look on your face that Cassian had when he was trying to hide the blood ruby he got from Summer Court after his experiment with arson” he gave a laugh that turned nervous when the females didn’t do the same, another almost panicked glance shared between them. 

“Well if that’s all Az, thanks for coming” Feyre made a quick movement to Azriel, catching his shoulders and turning him back towards the door, Nesta taking a wide stance to try to obscure more of you. 

“Fucking hell” your voice rattled out in pain as you pushed to sit up, the wool sinking down to your lap as your heavy hand found your bleeding head. Azriel’s eyes grew to nearly the width of his skull as he looked frantically between Nesta and Feyre. 

“She did it!” they said in unison again, pointing to one another. 

“Oh Rhys is going to kill you” he whispered angrily, moving to the couch as Nesta sidestepped, throwing an anxious look at Feyre.

“Whe-re the fuck a-m I? What happ-ened?” your hand traced through your thick hair, branches catching in the locks. You squeezed your eyes together tightly, trying to bring the cozy cabin into focus before swinging your legs to the ground and supporting your weight with one arm. Your movement went entirely still as you looked up to find the three members of the Night Court staring at you with matching bewilderment. 

“Am-am I dead?” Your stare landed on Azriel’s wings, conclusions forming quickly.

“No unfortunately not” Feyre elbowed Nesta into the ribs as Azriel analysed your whole figure with his hazel eyes, his shadows swirled around his feet until they wrapped around yours. Your shriek of pure terror caused them to dash back to their master. 

“You're okay!” Azriel tried but it was too late, you were in full panic mode, your system shutting down in utter distress until you felt your blood pressure hit the soles of your feet after hitting the ceiling, sending you into a loss of consciousness. 

“Nice going you big bat, you killed her” Azriel gave a dirty look towards Nesta, her eyes rolling for the thousandth time that day. 

“Send for Madja-”

“-Rhys will kill Nesta for this”

“Well I think her little magic trick will die without her” Feyre folded her arms into her chest, weighing up the options. 

“We could give her the tonic that's here, let her heal without everyone gawking at her at home. I’ll go back with Nesta and explain, by the time we’re here again perhaps she’ll be healed and Amren will be home from her travels and can send her back” 

“And am I supposed to play healer Feyre?”

“Well you have more experience with healing because of the battlefield than us and besides, Nesta isn’t known for her bedside manner” Azriel sighed before rubbing a hand across his face at Feyre’s logic, she showed him how you got here in his head to help her point.

“Okay fine, go but if she dies, I’m not to blame” They nodded in agreement, taking another look at your floppy body before heading for the door with their things, kicking the box of supplies out of the way. 

Azriel lifted your legs slowly back onto the couch before fetching a dish full of mountain water and healing tonic. He hovered the cloth over one of your large gashes that had cut straight through your straight-leg jeans. He looked over your body, unable to hide his curiosity towards the university logo decorating your sweatshirt, the deep purple colouring at the very ends of your hair as well as the multiple pieces of metal piercing through your ear's cartilage. Despite the series of cuts and bruises generously coating you, Azriel believed you might be the most beautiful creature he had ever seen and you were entirely out for the count. 

He sighed, dropping the cloth back into the dish and going to make tea with another healing concoction. He rolled his shoulders back and tucked his wings in as tight as possible to minimise their appearance before gently tapping your shoulder to bring you around. When that didn’t work, he fetched one of Cassian’s training boots and ran it beneath your nose, you stirred immediately. You went to shoot up in shock, his strong steady hand, gently pressing you back down. 

“You’re okay, you…you just fell but you’re okay.” he said as softly as possible, the ease of his voice unable to settle the rising worry across your face. 

“I-I fell?” he gave you a small nod, not entirely a lie he thought to himself. 

“Fucking hell my head-” you once again ran your hands down your face, the dry blood slightly flaking in the movement “-do you have any paracetamol or something?”

“Para-what-almol?” Azriel’s eyebrow raised in question before he reached for the tea he made for you from the small table behind him. You removed your hands from your face and looked towards the squatting Illyrian, taking in the beautiful male in front of you, pain being replaced by embarrassment. You pushed up despite his disapproval look, returning to the same position you were in before you fainted.

“Sorry, I should-I should go? Emm…where are we?” 

“This is Velaris”

“Velentia?! How did I get here?!” You shot to your feet in surprise, the blood rushing and sending you shakenly back to the soft fabric almost as quickly. 

“No, I’m not sure where that is but you’re not there, here take this” he passed the cup with a half laugh and you looked down unconvinced. 

“No thanks man, not here to be poisoned” Azriel scoffed in slight offense as he watched you wince to put it back on the small table. You look down at your freshly ripped jeans, your fingers tracing the fresh wounds. 

“I’m Azriel” His voice brought your eyes back to him as he passed you the soaked cloth, allowing you to run it over the gashes. 

“YN” You gave a small smile back, fighting the singe of the elixir. 

“YN? That’s an odd name”

“You say that as if there’s an Azriel at every petrol station in town” You half laugh, more questions entering Azriel’s head than answers. Azriel rose to his feet and headed into the kitchen with the abandoned groceries as you finished with your leg, starting on your forehead. 

“No paper here or something?” Azriel looked towards you as you took the cabin in in all its glory, Feyre’s artwork the object of your marvelling. 

“They’re Feyre’s, she was here earlier. She went a bit mad up here when she found out Rhysand was her mate”

“Mate? Oh she’s like Australian?”

“What? You speak in riddles” he laughed, joining your side on the couch with his own cup of tea. You looked at it with an air of hunger, not unnoticed by the Spymaster, he looked from the cup to your face. 

“You can drink it YN, it’s not poisoned, here look I’ll take a sip” You watched him take a taste before offering it back to you where you took it from him, its fresh floral taste having an almost reviving effect, you drank it almost one gulp. 

“Now, I’m afraid you can’t go home just y-”

“Fuck I knew it! What’s in this tea?! I’m being kidnapped!” You shot towards the door, almost knocking the dish of water all over the floor, sending Azriel swearing. You reached your exit and with a wave of his hand, Azriel locked it from the inside.

“YN, no one is going to hurt you, you just, this is going to be hard to explain, one of my…friends brought you here by accident” You still tried to pull on the knob of the door, glancing from it to Azriel as he stood to close the distance.

“Stay back! I know self-defence!” Azriel couldn’t hold his laugh at the small human girl before him threateningly looking at him. He went to catch your arm softly, only for you to send your heavy-booted Doc straight into his instep, followed by the base of your palm up and into his nose, the shock of your sudden movement catching him off guard. He groaned slightly reaching for his nose as it bled, missing your hand reaching for the keys in your pocket and the mace on the keychain. Azriel roared at the feeling of the spray of chemicals burning into his eyes, sending him onto the floor writhing in pain.

“Fuck! Fine! Die in the snow!” He shouted out, waving his hand and releasing the door. You hardly heard him, whipping the door back as the now night air lashed in near-freezing gails of icy snow. You fought the tornado of air as you put the oak door between you and it, sliding down the wood to the ground, your body screaming in pain still from the fall. Azriel sat up, still blinking hard to clear the burning liquid. 

“And you thought I’d be the one to use poison” A breathy laugh left him as his red eyes watered and you found yourself matching his smile.

“I promise I won’t kill you, if you don’t kill me” he gave you a genuine look and for some reason you felt such a wave of trust hit you. You agreed, too tired to run from him or face the snow and you rolled your head along the door before looking back at the Illyrian, tracing your eyes along his linen shirt and leather pants

“Are you in a motorbike gang or something?”

“Gods I hope you start making sense soon” he pushed up from the ground, doing his best to not untuck his wings for balance. You looked up at him and reluctantly took the hand he offered, noting the deep scaring covering them like burls on a tree. He followed your eyes to his hands before he gingerly took them back to replace them across his still-stinging eyes. Azriel threw himself back down on the couch and you followed suit.

“I’m sorry about the-” you gestured to your own eyes and he gave a small laugh.

“It’s okay, I’m impressed a human would have such speed, to be honest”

“Human? And what are you a fish?” 

“No” he didn’t return your laughing tone, only reaching for your disregarded cloth and placing it over his eyes. Your hand ran down the side of your jeans until you retrieved your phone, the screen fully destroyed from your dance with the trees. 

“Great” you sighed, throwing it down on the table, Azriel watching the action. 

“Nesta couldn’t save your mirror from the fall?”

“Nesta? Rhysand? Azriel? No one called like Dave around here?” 

“Not really the fashion in Prythian” he smiled.

“Prythian? Like from the children's stories?” you chuckled at him.

“No, Prythian like the realm” he tossed the cloth back into the dish, the red in his eyes subsiding. 

“My mom used to tell me stories about Prythian and these like great bat boy warriors with these really big-big-win…” you trailed off as you looked to see the shape of Azriel’s wings over his shoulder. 

“Really big? Well, thanks for the flattery” He laughed aloud as your face greyed. 

“Fuck, it’s happened, studying for my physics final has finally driven me insane, this is all in my head, a stress-induced dream” Azriel reached to your thigh and gave you a gentle pinch following your matter-of-fact speech, causing you to flinch a little.

“Okay so not a dream…”

“Not a dream, my brother’s lovely ma-wife’s sister, pulled you through a sort of rip in the realm and landed you here…not very carefully might I add” He said softly so as to not have you black out again, you nodded very very slowly to his words. You faced away from him, fixing your stare on the smashed phone, you thought of your physics lectures. The theories of tears in the fabric of time being possible, the possibility of alternative realities, the possibility of unexplored realms before settling finally that this wasn’t a possibility, this was a reality. 

“So, okay, right-” you bit your lip, working through the thought, Azriel trying to push the shiver down his spine away at that action “-okay cool, right, so I’m gonna need like an excuse note or something for the exam and then, right, cool, Xanax maybe”

“Is Xanax a friend of yours who can help?” Your head shot towards Azriel at his genuine question and you let a roar of laughter leave you. 

“Definitely although I don’t think they’re here somehow” you offered with a smirk, Azriel feeling a weird sense of jealousy at not being the object of this smile. 

“Well, we’ll make do and try to get you home” You nodded sheepishly to him.

“Do you not want to go home YN? You seemed pretty eager when you tried to break my nose earlier” he smiled and you gently knocked into his shoulder playfully. 

“I mean…I’m not in a rush to get back to the test” 

“Okay well, it will be a day or two before my friends are back and Rhys has calmed down over Nesta bringing you to greet us so you’ll have time. As for now, care to have something to eat? You can help me make it so we both know neither is trying to poison the other” he gave a light laugh while standing again, and you followed him along to the kitchen. 

For the rest of the night, the both of you spent your time cooking, laughing and teaching one another about your worlds. Azriel explained the Courts, his role and his family’s as well as giving a shortened version of their relationships with one another. In return, you told him about your studies, what Instagram was and how democracy works. Azriel wasn’t sure he’d ever felt such strong feelings towards someone he’d just met before and it confused him almost as much as what microwaves were. 

“Here you go, a glass of our best liquor, you deserve it” Azriel passed you the tumbler as you sat cross-legged on the couch beneath the woollen blanket you were previously hidden under.

“Oh slay”

“No, I didn’t kill anything to get this for you” You almost choked on the drink with the laugh that left you at his confused words. 

“No Azriel it’s like-actually maybe I’ll explain drag culture to you another day” He nodded eagerly at the prospect of learning more, sinking into the couch alongside you with his own drink. 

“So have you girlf-mate type person like Feyre and Rhys?”

“No, no girlf-mate type person-” he teased back and you sighed, clipping him with the pillow from under your elbow “-do you?”

“Nope, to be honest, I don’t think I’ll be missed from home, I lost my parents young and never really found my flock at college either” you shrugged. 

“How could anyone not miss you YN?”

“You have to say that, you’re my captor”

“Actually Nesta captured you, I’m just minding you-” You returned his smirk “-speaking of which, time for sleep, tomorrow they should be back to figuring getting you home for your exam” you whined like a misbehaving child but you’d been fighting off sleep since dinner so agreed with him.

He lead you to his room in the cabin before offering you one of his clean linen shirts and leaving you to sleep. You practically swam in the fabric, with no wings or Illyrian muscles to fill it out, feeling the same way about the colossal bed that you slipped into. You looked up at the ceiling where Feyre had painted delicate little consolations, the day washing over you, had all your prayers finally been answered? You smiled as you gave into the sleep that hunted you all day.

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“We are sending her back!”

“Amren can’t guarantee she’ll end up in her realm, she’s not going anywhere!” You wiped the sleep from your eyes, Azriel's blunt tone waking you from the best sleep of your life.

“She can’t stay here Az!”

“And what if she ends up somewhere a lot worse, she coul-oh YN you’re awake” You looked from the doorway between the two gorgeous Illyrians. 

“This is Rhysand”

“Oh, your majesty I suppose” you did a half bow after stepping closer to the males, a small laugh leaving Rhysand at the action. 

“Don’t flatter him YN”

“YN, flatter me if that would make you happy” he grinned, Azriel rolling his eyes. 

“You’re exactly as described” You shrugged at him, settling down on the couch between where the lllyrians stood

“I would like to apologies for Nesta’s…interuption to your day to day life and more so for…probably being all Nesta when you woke up” Rhysand offered, Azriel folding his arms tightly across his chest as he inspected you closely, you in his shirt may now be his favourite sight. Rhysand watched the slight change in his brothers demanour at your presence, this increasing his worry. 

“Now YN, it’s time we get you back to-”

“-I heard you guys say you can’t say for certain I’ll get home” you cut across Rhysand, his eyes darting back to you, Azriel trying to bury his smirk.

“I’m confident we know how to get you there”

“Okay cool, so Feyre will accompany me” 

“What?” Rhysand bit out.

“Well its just if you’re so sure you’ll get me in the right spot, surely you’ll have no issue allowing Feyre to accompany me yanno, since you’re confident” Azriel lost his battle in holding in his smirk. 

“She’s got you there Rhys, if one of us wouldn’t do it, why should she?”

“Because she doesn’t belong here” Rhysand chewed out, locking eyes with his brother.

“She is sitting right here and she isn’t going near any wormhole or whatever if you’re not sure I’d get there safe” You forced his attention back to your with your sharp words.

“Who said anything about worms?”

“YN has a habit of speaking in riddles” Azriel sat alongside you, giving you a somewhat proud smile, his arm instinctively resting on the back of the couch behind you. 

“YN, I’m sure you’re great but I can almost guarantee that our world is vastly different to yours, it’s a lot to take on for your mortal mind, perhaps we could arrange a home for you in the mortal realm?” you tilted your head side to side weighing up his offer before Azriel replied for you.

“I can teach her our ways, I can school her like you did Feyre” Rhysand sighed out but couldn’t deny the way Azriel looked at you and you at him was deeply familiar to him. 

“Fine, a week, you may stay a week and if it doesn’t work out then the mortal realm it is, we’ll set you up with a nice manor and you’ll live very comfortably”

“Like Downton Abbey?” you teased despite your audience.

��I’m not familiar with that region”

“Is that where the drag culture is?”

“Of sorts” you laughed at Azriel and his quizzical words, his hazel eyes so enamoured by the sight, further cementing Rhysand’s suspicions. Rhysand sighed deeply ensuring you agreed to the terms and to be taught by Azriel before he left to continue to reprimand Nesta. 

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Over the next week it became abundantly clear that despite being from two different realms, you and Azriel were made for one another. You both had the same humor and intelligence as well as thirst for knowledge. You continued to teach him about your home and he taught you about the new world around you and the more you learned the less you wanted to leave. On your first day in Velaris, you thought your heart may burst with the growing love for the place and even more so for your guide. 

“And then Cass completely blew the building up, I thought the vein was going to burst in Rhysand’s head” Azriel tilted his head back and laughed loudly while you both crossed the bridge of the Sidra, your last official day in the Night Court before you had to decide. Somewhere along the way, Azriel and your hands became interlocked and forgot to separate.

“You live such insane lives here”

“And you could too” he stopped you in your tracks, his eyes warming over your body as he looked down on you, the sinking sun reflecting off of the snow. 

“Maybe with less arson though” he added with a grin you loved so much. 

“Az, I’d love to stay but-”

“-No, just say ‘Az I’d love to stay’ and leave it there” he fought his faltering smile as you looked down at his shoes, both hands held in his now. 

“But Az-” you couldn’t find the end of the sentence, the words lost on Azriel’s lips as they met yours with such searing passion. His mouth slotted over yours with such a perfect fit it was like they were always meant to be there. You stood further on your toes to deepen the kiss as his hands traced around the nape of your neck and yours landed around his torse. You separated when the need for air almost matched the need to never let go. 

“I-I can’t remember the end of my last thought” you laughed lightly and he grinned. “So you’ll stay?”

“I don’t think I was ever going to be able to walk away from you…well not without mace anyways” you smiled back into another kiss, the second of many many more.

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Let Me Know What You Think Friend!?

Part Two

[thesecondhandwoman]

I don’t send requests often so I’m not sure if this is too vague but what do you think of a pit fighter vi x reader where reader is a medic at the pit and vi slowly but surely begins to trust them?

PIT FIGHTER’S MEDIC

Pit fighter!Vi x f!reader

Synopsis: You were a medic at the station besides the cage fights, constantly taking care of beat up fighters, victorious or not. That’s how you met Vi, the most recently boosting pit fighter.

Request: Anon 🤍

A/N: No where close to proofread (so please, bear with me on this one).

The underground pit was a second home to bloodstains and bad decisions. You’d stopped keeping track of the fights the moment you clocked into your shift. The medic station was tucked in a dark corner, far enough from the roaring crowd but close enough to the cage that the echoes of flesh meeting steel felt all too real.

Tonight wasn’t different. The air reeked of sweat and spilled beer, and the sound of bets being placed rattled against the screams of the current brawl. A fighter was thrown into the metal bars with a sickening clang, the crowd howling their approval. You didn’t flinch, couldn’t afford to.

Not when she walked in.

The crowd was still chanting Vi’s name when she staggered out of the cage, jacket slung lazily over one shoulder, blood trickling down her temple. Her stride was confident, too confident for someone whose opponent had nearly taken her head off three times in the last round.

“Rough night?” you called, barely glancing up from the bloodied tape you were sorting.

Vi gave you a crooked grin, wiping her face with the back of her hand and only succeeding in smearing the blood. “Nah. Barely broke a sweat.”

“Is that what you call nearly getting your jaw dislocated?”

She chuckled, plopping onto the chair across from your table. It creaked under her weight. “Guess I’ll take your expert opinion on that, Doc.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing a cloth and your disinfectant. “Hold still.”

Vi didn’t flinch as you reached for her face, your fingers tilting her chin to inspect the cut on her temple. She was already drenched in sweat and what looked like oil grease, a combination you were growing weirdly used to.

“Seriously, you should take it easy on the booze before fights,” you muttered, cleaning the wound. “You’re slowing down.”

“Didn’t slow down enough to lose, though,” Vi quipped, but there was a slur in her voice, the alcohol thick in her breath.

“Winning doesn’t count if you get yourself killed doing it,” you said, glaring at her. “Next time, I’m not patching you up.”

“Oh, come on, you’d miss me.” Vi’s grin widened, but the teasing didn’t quite reach her eyes.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you focused on stitching up the cut, ignoring the weight of her gaze on you. She was always like this: half-drunk, bruised, and too damn cocky for her own good. But there was something underneath it, something she wasn’t saying.

Something that made your chest ache every time she walked into your station looking like the world had chewed her up and spit her out.

Vi became a regular at your station, whether she needed serious medical attention or not. Most nights, she was the same—reckless, smirking, and smelling faintly of engine oil and whiskey. She talked just enough to keep the silence from settling, but not enough to give away anything real.

You didn’t push her. Not at first.

But over time, she let things slip. Little pieces of her past. A sister she used to look out for. The nights she spent in the Lanes. The bitterness in her voice when she mentioned someone named Caitlyn.

You listened, never prying too hard, and patched her up like always. Some nights, you caught her staring at the pit from the corner of your eye, her knuckles bloody. Other nights, she didn’t talk at all.

And then there were the bad nights.

The bad nights were always worse.

It was one of those nights when Vi stumbled into your station, barely standing. Her opponent had been twice her size and almost as fast—something you’d only caught glimpses of between the crowd surging forward to watch the fight. Vi had won, but the price had been steep.

Blood poured from a cut above her eye, dripping onto her bruised, dislocated shoulder. Her bandage-made gloves were gone, the straps ripped and dragging from her hands.

“Vi,” you said, rushing to her side as she collapsed into the chair. “What the hell happened?”

“Guess I overdid it,” she said, her voice rasping. She winced as you helped her out of her jacket, revealing a nasty gash along her ribs. “You know me.”

“Yeah, reckless as hell,” you muttered, grabbing your kit. “Stay still.”

Vi hissed when you pressed a cloth to her side, but didn’t pull away. “You’re good at this,” she said after a moment. “You always been a medic?”

“Pretty much,” you said, focusing on stopping the bleeding. “Started out patching up people in the Undercity. It’s a skill that keeps you alive down here.”

Vi didn’t answer right away. When you glanced up, you saw her watching you, something unreadable in her expression.

“Why do you care?” she asked suddenly.

The question caught you off guard. “What?”

“About me,” she said, her voice softer now. “Why do you care?”

You hesitated, your hands stilling for a moment. “Because someone has to,” you said finally. “And because you deserve better than this.”

She snorted, the sound bitter. “Better? This is all I’m good at.”

“That’s not true.” You met her gaze, your voice firm. “You’re more than this, Vi. You just don’t see it yet.”

Vi’s jaw tightened, her shoulders tensing under your touch. But she didn’t argue. Instead, she looked away, her fingers curling into fists.

“Maybe,” she muttered, almost too quiet to hear.

That night marked a shift. Vi started coming to the station earlier, before the fights, something she didn’t do regularly, her sharp tongue softer than usual. She drank less, most of the time, and even started to let you help her fix the binding straps around her chest (since they were miserably dressed in your medical eyes) while talking about something better than oil grease for cage fighting marks.

“Not bad, Doc,” she said one night, watching as you tightened a strap of bandages from behind her. “I didn’t know they could be so much more snug.”

“Yea, now you will be able to fight without looking like this is gonna come right off,” you said with a small smile.

Vi grinned, the first real one you’d seen in weeks, and shook her head. “Alright, alright. Jokes aside, you’re not half bad, you know.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you teased. But inside, you felt something shift, something warm and unfamiliar.

The fights didn’t stop, but Vi’s recklessness eased. She still fought like she had something to prove, but there was a fire in her now, a purpose that hadn’t been there before ever since Caitlyn distinguished it with heartache.

And slowly, she began to trust you with a lot more than little pieces of her past and present.

It wasn’t until one quiet night, long after one of her fights had ended and the crowd had thinned, that Vi finally opened up fully in the medical station.

You were cleaning her up of oil grease since she had missed a few spots, knowing it would be bad for her skin if she slept in it (again), when she had suddenly looked a lot more vulnerable and small.

“I used to fight for something real, something good,” she said, her voice low. She glanced over at you, soft blue eyes meeting yours before looking back down. “Before all of this mess, hell, way before.”

“What happened?” you asked gently.

She hesitated, her fingers tracing the edge her jacket’s hem. “It fell apart. I lost it all. Lost her.”

You didn’t need to ask who “her” was. The weight in her voice said it all.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly.

Vi looked up, her eyes meeting yours. “Yeah. Me too.”

“But, despite the past still being heavy, how are you right now? In the present?” you asked, breaking the silence. “Are you okay? Doing a bit better than when you first got here at least?”

Vi glanced up, her bruised knuckles resting on the edge of the table. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I just— I also wanted to say thanks.”

You raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

“For putting up with me,” she said, her lips curving into a small, almost shy smile. “I’m not exactly easy, you know? Especially now.”

“You think I don’t know that by now?” you teased softly to lighten the mood, leaning forward slightly before being more honest. “But I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think you were worth it.”

Vi’s expression shifted, something warm flickering in her eyes. “You really believe that, don’t you?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I do,” you said firmly. “You’re more than the fights, Vi. You’re more than the past that’s weighing you down. And I’ll keep saying it until you believe it too.”

For a moment, she just looked at you, her gaze searching yours like she was trying to find something she’d lost. Then, before you could say anything else, she leaned forward, her hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face.

Her fingers were rough, calloused from years of fighting, but her touch was impossibly gentle. Your breath hitched as she hesitated, her eyes flicking to your lips and then back to your eyes, silently asking for permission.

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you closed the distance between you, your lips meeting hers in a kiss that was soft and tentative, like both of you were afraid to break the fragile moment.

Vi exhaled shakily against your mouth, her hand sliding to the back of your neck as she deepened the kiss just enough to make your heart race. There was no desperation, no urgency—just the quiet, unspoken promise of trust and something new blooming between you.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested together, her breath mingling with yours.

“Was that okay?” she asked, her voice so soft you almost didn’t hear it.

“Yeah,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips. “More than okay.”

Vi let out a breathless laugh, her usual cockiness softened by the vulnerability in her expression. “Guess I’ll have to come back more often, then.”

“Like you needed an excuse,” you teased, your smile widening.

She smiled and shook her head before crushing her lips against yours again, pushing you further into the room so the night could continue with something more than heavy sorrows but light promises.

A/N: I don’t really like this one a lot, might redo it, but this is it for now.

[gloomwitchwrites]

IM FEELING ANGSTY TODAY so what about 141 who is in love with reader but they are in love with someone else <3

ANON! STRAIGHT TO JAIL!

But in all seriousness, I love some yummy angst. Make me suffer. Make the characters suffer. Let's all suffer a little bit. Hope you shed a tear or two (or don't).

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Presented in four double drabbles.

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, alcohol, stalking, flirting, yearning, angst, suggestive themes, brief mention of intimate relations, divorce, co-parenting, nurse!reader

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist

John Price

The door opens, and your smiling face greets him. You look a bit tired, but even so, you're beautiful. John wants to snapshot this moment. To savor it.

“You’re early,” you breathe.

John shrugs. “That all right?”

He did it on purpose. The new boyfriend shouldn’t be home yet, which means John can have some time with you.

“Is that Dad?”

The familiar voice of his daughter and small feet slapping against a wood floor reaches him. She appears, arms outstretched eagerly.

“Hey there, dove,” chuckles John, lifting his daughter into his arms. “Ready to spend the weekend with me?”

She squeals with delight, her small arms wrapping around his neck. John glances at you, urging memory to resurface and seize you both.

But it is not to be.

The boyfriend appears. The man that came after the divorce.

John doesn’t blame you for moving on. His job drained the marriage into nothing.

But he still wants you.

“John,” nods the man in greeting.

“Is her bag ready?” asks John, addressing you and not acknowledging the boyfriend.

“Yes,” you reply, handing it to him.

John wants to say, “I love you.”

But he doesn’t.

“I’ll bring her back Sunday evening.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Vape smoke lingers in the air.

Kyle reclines on the sofa, his head on a pillow, scrolling his socials in the dim dark. The television is on, the volume turned low to create background noise. On the table next to him is a bottle of tequila, half-empty and warm. He takes a swig, savoring the burn.

Kyle’s gaze is glued to the phone screen, fingers tapping until he finds your page.

He shouldn’t do this. It’ll only upset him—making him yearn for something he doesn’t have and might never know. It’s a foolish endeavor. Heartbreak just for fucking kicks.

He gazes at your smiling face, of how perfect you are to him. It’s not fucking fair—even if he respects your choice.

You should be his. The two of you should be together.

But there is someone else. A man that Kyle despises but only because you’re not his. The bloke is a good man. He’ll take care of you. Treat you right. Be there when you need him and not away on another mission without any idea of when or if he’s coming back.

Kyle’s chest aches.

"Fuck," he sighs, locking his phone.

He reaches for the tequila.

John "Soap" MacTavish

“How bad is it, doc? Think I’ll live?”

Soap puts every ounce of devious flirtation he can in his tone. He’s putting it on thick.

He gives you his best smile, and he gets the exact reaction he wants.

Your head bows in embarrassment, a soft smile spreading on your face. Your touch is gentle, taking great care to wrap the wound on his bicep.

You’re flustered. It’s bloody adorable.

“You’ll live, sergeant,” you reply, voice a little husky.

It’s such a small thing, but Soap clings to it. To him, this is a sliver of hope. A possibility even though reality says otherwise.

Soap leans in a bit, pushing into your space which almost seems to worsen your flustered demeanor. “I took a hard hit.”

“You did,” you agree. “It’s good they brought you in.”

You have no idea Soap asked Simon to hit him harder during training just so he’d end up here.

But it’s not to be.

The man that has your heart arrives, strolling into the communal exam room without even glancing at Soap.

“You’re ready to go, sergeant,” you reply brightly, demeanor changing now that your boyfriend is here.

Soap’s stomach twists into a knot.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon sits in the dark in his home office. A slight twinge of shame paints his mood, like it always does when he watches the monitors.

He tells himself he does this to protect you. That he’s looking after you even if you’re not aware of his actions. This is just a precaution until you finally realize that you should be his.

Simon removes a cigarette from his jacket pocket. When it ignites, and that luscious burn hits his lungs, a calmness settles over him.

His actions are valid. This behavior is fine.

Simon settles back in his chair, gaze roaming over the different camera views. There are fifteen of them in total. Each one is in your home in various rooms. Infiltration and surveillance are something he’s fucking good at. And he’s done it here with excellent precision.

It’s some of his best work.

In your bedroom, you’re currently on your back, and completely naked. The wanker you call a “boyfriend” is thrusting like a bloody fucking idiot. It’s clear to Simon that this man only cares about himself.

Simon could make you come. He’d give you plenty of orgasms.

But you’re not his.

You belong to someone else.

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[porcalinecunt]

ak!jason craving his back alley surgeon (ftm) so much that it physically hurts not to just fuck him right in the middle of their session ,,

021 𐙚 KINKTOBER — 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆

🪽ᯓᡣ𐭩 the arkham knight remained touch starved for too long, so he turns to his nagging yet stupidly cute back alley surgeon! ~

⋆˚࿔ FEATURING . . 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ AK! JASON TODD X MALE! READER

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . cw — ftm!reader. dubcon. rough oral sex. throat breeding. throat bulge. fingerings. touch starved jason. past mentions of torture/injuries.

[・:。author’s note ! 「 ✉️ 」・𓂃 ࣪˖ ] i do NOT know how to write endings ;-; but omg anon, i RAN to write this the moment i saw this request! ak!jason todd lives in my head rent free :<

he forgot what normal touch felt like, if it even existed in the desolate gotham city.

and you can’t blame him, the last thing he ever felt were the joker’s ghostly white hands tearing at his skin with any rusty metal he could get his hands on. the burning hot iron engraving a capital J on his cheek.

getting shot on camera in a snuff was somehow the least worst thing that happened to the knight.

naturally, the acidic lake of the lazerous pit only harden his outer shell, rendering him mentally cut off to the concept of affection. hell, he wouldn’t even let the nurses within militia grounds even touch him. grumbling that he can take care it himself with a simple twist of a broken limb or a faulty cauterized wound.

or a visit to your back alley clinic.

after a hellish night of shockwaves and stitches, jason properly met you after you saved his life from a particularly lethal mission. unlike the kind nurses though, you were cold and a little vile. spouting exhausted quips about how ‘braindead’ and ‘reckless’ he was, and how he was a pain in your ass. ah, a vile little bitch. the arkham knight thought.

yet, he couldn’t bring himself to hate you. oh no, despite the sharp tongue, your shockingly soft hands revive a need jason thought he abandoned after his death. he found himself looking forward to the checkups, to your palms resting against his scarred chest and broad shoulders. fingers pressing against his more delicate spots, allowing his mind to wander to the nastiest places.

how delicate was the rest of you?

a question that got him gripping the metal table as you did another checkup on him, making sure he didn’t measly tear off any of the wrapping or bandaids.

jason’s breath hitched once your fingers ghosted over his abs, his chest and his thighs. it didn’t help that with every slight move, he grew harder and harder in his pants. you were fucking teasing him, even if it wasn’t intentional. his boner was growing more obvious and it was like you were purposely playing dumb, agitating the knight.

“shit..fuck it.”

he uttered, sitting up despite your failed attempts to keep him down.

“mister todd, what are you?!- HEY!”

a harsh push threw you far back, stumbling onto the dirty sofa chair while jason quickly followed. you could barley process what was going on when the sound of a belt buckle made you freeze.

“sorry doc, got a problem i can’t fix on my own..”

jason muttered as his pants dropped to his ankles along with his boxers, revealing his ‘problem’. you couldn’t think of anything to say, only stare at his ridiculous girth and his swollen tip leaking precum as it ran down to the base.

“mister todd..—“

“please. c’mon doc..”

he was practically begging, a tone that went straight into your soaked cunt. you had to hold back from straight up palming yourself through your pants. a defeated sigh left your lungs as you leaned forward off the couch and onto your knees. a risky kitty lick snapped the rope of control in jason, a heavy metal hand clasping the back of your head, forcing his dick into your jaw.

he was too big, way too big. your poor mouth was practically stuffed with cock as the knight didn’t let you pull back for a moment. “nose, doc..breath through your nose.” jason sighed, slowing pushing further and further until he was nestled into your throat. a static groan leaked through his gritted teeth, a sound that made you flinch with anticipation.

with eyes screwed shut, you couldn’t even look at him as he pulls his length back only to shove it right back into the jugular, slowly picking up his already relentless pace. the sloshing noises of your spit and his cum mixing filled your ears until your patient’s groans practically drowned out.

gobs of the nasty mix spilled off his soaked dick and through your swollen lips, along with tears that blurred your vision and salted the taste of the knight’s girth. it was all humiliating in the best way possible, you were fucking getting off to it. made you wonder how long he was imagining this very scenario.

“get up.” he suddenly commands with a booming tone, pulling you off his cock with a handful of your hair. “w-wha..?”

“you fuckin’ heard me. get up or i’ll fuck that cunt of yours.”

barley a promise, knowing how fickle the knight is. yet you still followed his command, standing up as he pushed you down onto the metal operation table with your front facing the ceiling. jason, dick still hard and bobbing around as he walked to where your head hung off the edge.

“gonna make you extra useful doc, if you’re okay with that..” he asked with a ragged breath. you were too fucked out to give a proper answer other then a pathetic “uh huh…” with your tongue stuck out. you couldn’t even get another sound out before he stuffs your mouth full once again, this time, with a desperation for an orgasm.

gripping the sides of the metal table, jason thrusts his dick in and out of your throat, a small bulge forming yet visible enough for him to admire.

“atta boy, you’re not bad f’ a doctor..shit..!”

he laughed, listening to your whines and gagging as you rub your thighs together for a source of friction. all this time, you were left neglected as jason used your throat as a free fleshlight. with shaking hands, you reached down through the band of your pants and ran your fingers through your needy little pussy.

“mmm..mister todd..”

you muttered, fucking your fingers into your soaked cunt as you felt his cock twitch in your mouth. he was gonna cum.

“mouf..cum in m’mouf..!” you weakly uttered, earning a mocking coo from the knight. “yeah? you want me to cum in your mouth? ‘course doc..” he panted, his pace growing more relentless somehow.

“consider this returning the favor, f’ being so good to me.”

with a couple more thrusts and some jerkin’ off, a white hot liquid spurted in your mouth and down your throat. heavy and salty was all you can taste as he practically bred your throat full.

jason pulled himself out, watching as gobs of his cum and your spit spill out from your lips and all over your fucked out face. he wished he could take a picture of it just to have something to jerk off to when he can’t sleep.

“so..see you next week?”

© porcalinecunt 🪽ᯓᡣ𐭩ྀི do not steal, translate, or use my work and claim as your own.

[shooting-love-arrows]

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎'𝐬! 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃 reacts to...cheater! reader

Request made by Anon:

Hi! I just read your post about yan 1950 house husband, it's amazing. Can you write his reaction if reader cheated on him? If you don't feel comfortable with this ask, feel free to ignore this.  Remember to take care of yourself and have a nice day.

Hello to you too, dear Anon,

First of all, I must apologize but your request suddenly disappeared from my inbox! Thankfully, I have the content of your request saved in my google docs so I pasted it above. 

Putting that aside, although this topic is sensitive to some, I am fine with writing about that. 

I appreciate your words. It's very nice of you to think about little ol' me. I wish you a nice day too (even if it's not a daytime)!

Thank you and I hope to hear from you soon!

PAIRING: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 x [CHEATER!] reader (gender not specified/mentioned/implied), your lovers genger isn't specified/mentioned/implied either. Don't be swayed by the curses used to describe them; Tw. cheating/indifelity from the reader, cursing, description of a m*urder, delusion (delulu is the solulu), emotional manipulation, gaslightning; A/N: As a person, I do not support this kind of behavior. This is only a piece of fiction, serving for entertaining purposes only.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Denial. Denial. Denial. At first 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 doesn’t believe it. No, he refuses to do so. You’re the most faithful and perfect partner known to the human kind. Right then, he's desperately holding on to that image. But unfortunately, evidence says otherwise. A simple photo, sent to him by your lover, secretly taken by some photographer is clearly showing you and (that whore) your lover, in some hotel room, in an intimate position. It is clear that day that you have an affair. 

“But what if my darling was forced to do this?”

That question sends him into a spiral of delusion, rage and sorrow. As a defence mechanism, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 made up a story where suddenly you were a victim in this whole situation. It was definitely your lover who has forced themselves on you. Probably blackmailed or worse, drugged you to have a taste of sweet love and burning passion you share while making love with him. 

“My poor darling…” 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 wailed, clenching his chest like someone was physically ripping away his still beating heart from it. Fat tears ran down his rosy cheeks, smudging his mascara and turning him into a crying mess. “I’ll avenge you, my darling. I won’t forgive what was done to you!”

He doesn’t even blink when he sends your lover into the pits of hell. There’s no hesitation when 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 plans this hideous crime, making sure every detail is taken care of. And so, it begins small, like creating false and disgusting rumors about your lover. Day by day, he patiently destroys your lover's life. Until the day when 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 poisons them through his signature pie and then proceeds to repeatedly stab your lover until no one is able to recognize them in the first place. 

"YOU WENCH!" 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 roared at the person who happened to be your lover. "HOW FUCKING DARE YOU?!" With every word he dove the sharp, kitchen knife deeper and harder into his victim's chest. "DIE!!" 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 yelled for the final time and knife one last time, straight in this whore heart. He was left alone in the empty and messy kitchen, covered in blood, panting and trying to catch his breath. 

In the end, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 begins to gaslight you. Once again, with the patience of a saint, he began to manipulate you to believe that it was in fact your lover who was using you all this time. You were forced into this vile affair and you are a victim. 

“My innocent darling, you mustn't think about it (them) anymore. I will make everything perfect once again.”

But isn’t it weird how he started wearing clothes that are scarily similar to those worn by your lover? Sniff…sniff…and those perfumes…

All of the published posts on this account/blog belongs to @shooting-love-arrows. I do not consent to my works being: translated, stolen, published or reposted on this and other sites. Likes, reblogs, comments are highly appreaciated. Thank you.

[hermitcraftheadcanons]

I have a headcanon regarding furnaces!

Tango (a Blaze hybrid) and Impulse (a demon) are the only Hermits who can grab things directly from the furnace without getting burned. Everyone else has to wear oven mitts if they want to pull something out. Most Hermits just shuttle their smelted items into chests, where the item cools enough to be safe to grab.

To an extent, Doc’s cybernetics are also immune unless he’s smelting ores, then he needs to wear mitts just like everyone else.

Skizz has burns on his hands because he keeps forgetting to wear mitts.

Joel could make himself immune because he’s a god, but he’s too lazy.

Scar uses tongs instead of oven mitts because he’s dropped *important item that just finished smelting* way too many times.

Joe Hills uses those square silicone pot holders, which isn’t that weird except he’s the only one who uses them.

iJevin just accepts that his hand is gonna get burned; being made of slime makes using oven mitts or pot holders pretty impossible.

-💫 Anon

Fortunately, being made of slime also means he doesn't quite burn the same way other people do, and its a bit less awful than it is for flesh.

-Mod Mleem

[pedge-page]

Do you think you'd be able to write me a little something? You don't have to at all, but I'm on my 3rd night in hospital recovering from what

Should

Have been a routine surgery but it went south and they had to splice me open from pelvis to just above my belly button.

What would Joel be like with a partner recovering from surgery? And even more having to help reader pee? Both of them getting turned on but can't do anything? (My night nurse is a really hot older guy that gives joel vibes so I'm STRUGGLING)

Notes: anon I am so sorry that happened to you! Even more sorry that this took so long, but I do hope you are recovering and doing better! 

Proper Medical Attention

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Warnings: piss kink, fingering, brief piss taste, reader had hip surgery, dry humping ish

 18+ ONLY

 - - - -

“Give me that god damn jello cup,” you command, extending your arm and making grabby-grabby hand gestures.

Joel rolls his eyes. His arms are folded across his chest, slumped in the uncomfortably plastic seat and metal frame of the guest chair under the window. “Ya ain’t supposed to have jello. Drink water.”

Dropping your arms, you frown. “I’m sorry, isn’t jello a fluid?”

“No, ‘course not. It’s—it kind of—more like—“

He fails his words trying to explain.

You snap your fingers anyway and point incessantly to the tray across the room with the jello cups.

He grumbles but follows your demand, handing you one.

“Can you open it pleaassee?” You pout.

“Thought it was just your legs that ain’t workin’.” He tears it open with ease then hands it to you. 

“You try getting double hip surgery.” You rub your hands together excitedly.

He looks around the tray. “No spoon…Do ya want me to feed it to—“

You tilt your head back and suck the squirmy blob out of the tube like a shot glass, tongue working it out perfectly until your mouth is just full of jello. You sucked it down like it was the best jello of your life.

“—Nevermind.”

“Thought you were supposed to have lots of fluids after surgery.” You slurp another one down before chucking it all Joel’s head, hoping he’ll take the hint to throw them away to you.

“You are. Jello ain’t a fluid.”

“Doc said it is.”

“Not all doc’s are smart,” He sasses you, throwing away the cups in his lap as well as the ones crunched in yours. “The nurse said ya ain’t supposed to have a lot right now since ya ain’t ready to use the bathroom yet. That’s why, dummy.”

“Psh. I don’t have to pee. That’s—“ you pause, suddenly realizing the your body hadn’t thought about the last time she had gone to the restroom. Now full of jello cups that, your body now decided is a liquid state, the urge to go is upon you.

“Oh. Oh Joel.”

“What.”

“Why—why would you do this to me.”

“I ain’t done—what are you—“ but he sees your knee curve inward under the white sheet, and your free hand go down between your thighs. “—oh no.”

You only nod embarrassingly. Sighing, you reply, “I’ll just call the nurse guy—“

“Hell no.”

“What?”

“It’s a guy!”

“… so?”

“So… I ain’t letting a guy help you piss.”

“I can’t go by myself!”

Joel crunches his fists. “Alright, I’ll help you.”

The nurse (the hot sexy one Joel doesn’t trust) helps you out of the bed, offering you a walker. He gets you all the way to the private suite door.

“I got it from here,” Joel budges in, stepping between the nurse and you.

“Are—are you sure? It’s really no trouble. I just want to make sure she’s—“

“Yeah I got it. Just help her down the seat an make sure she stays upright, yeah?”

He nods, and Joel gives him a curt smile before shutting the door, locking the two of you in.

Joel and your eyes fall upon the toilet seat.

“I can’t do this,” you whine, suddenly regretting being potty trained for the first time in your life.

 “We’re doin’ this. Otherwise mister pretty boy is gonna do it and I ain’t letting’ that happen.”

You walker-waddle yourself over to the toilet before backing up and positioning your rear to the seat.

“I gotcha,” Joel says, a comforting hand on your back to help you ease down into a squat. 

You were still a little numbed up from the surgery, so it was more uncomfortable than it was painful. You didn’t want to look at the sutures binding your sides together, instead concentrating on the sink ahead. You gripped the side handles for dear life. 

Finally, your bare ass touches down on the seat. 

“And we have landed,” he chuckles. He makes sure your papery gown is clear out of the slpash zone. 

“Your ass is still cute by the way.” He winks. 

You roll your eyes. Of course he was looking at your baby butt full on display in this stupid thing. “Think the nurse agrees?” You tease.

His good-natured humor quickly disappears in favor of a scowling jaw-grind. He folds his arms across his chest, looking between your legs.

It’s a little too silent right now.

“Supposed to go.”

“I can’t do it when you’re looking at me like that!”

“Like what? I’ve seen your hooha before, babygirl. Doc was more intimately inside you this mornin’ more than I ever been.”

“It’s not… that I just…you… you don’t see me pee!”

It’s one thing to be walking around the house naked for Joel, Joel eating your pussy every morning like his coffee and biscuit, and Joel playing with your folds on a lazy Wednesday evening.

But the man has never seen you go to the bathroom before! “It’s…it’s just different.”

“C’mon. Just—go!”

“Turn around!”

He tosses his hands up. “Fine!” Now facing the wall, he grumbles, “Happy?”

But you’re not. just his presence here is shaking you up. God, you had to go so bad a minute ago. Why can’t you just do it now?”

“Still awfully quiet back there…” he chides annoyingly.

“Give it a minute!” I’m gonna fucking strangle him the moment I can walk on my own.

You squeeze your eyes shut, pretending you’re at home, in your private little bedroom bathroom, with your comfy bathrug beneath your feet, and it smells like vanilla and lavender. 

You let out a breath, and begin to go.

Breathing steadily, eyes still closed, you don’t notice Joel’s ears twitch. Nor the way he shifts his weight from the left to the right, nor how his eyes keep wanting to glance behind him.

I mean, you’re going now, right? He can just… take a peak. Its not like… he ain’t seen fluids come from there before…

He turns his shoulder just slightly, head tilted to see you. the hissing sound between your legs immediately draws his attention down, and he lips part slightly to let out a silent sigh. 

You moan a little, feeling much better now that you were emptying a very tight bladder. Opening your eyes, you don’t expect to be met with Joel’s staring back at you.

“Hey! I said—“

But he’s not even listening: his pupils are blown wide, staring at the stream exiting your cunt and splashing below, his mouth agape as he licks his lower lip every few seconds. His biceps are strained hard against that slutty plain shirt, and you definitely don’t miss the way his pants look tighter around his crotch.

No. Fucking. Way.

Joel Miller has a piss kink.

It hurts to do so, but you spread just a little wider, now exposing your twitchy clit to his hungry eyes.

That gets his attention. He entirely shifts his body forward facing you again. 

“Damn. I really had to go,” you giggle, humming contently. “Joel?”

He swallows in response. 

Your eyes trail downward as he adjusts himself in his jeans. He gives extra care to palm his tent a little bit, though it’s not even subtle anymore with the way he’s still cupping and brushing his hard-on.

Your trickle lightens before stopping entirely.

It’s silent again.

“Um…could you…get me…paper...” You feel a little flustered just asking. 

It’s the way he’s looking at you. That’s all. That heat between your thighs? Just the warm piss dripping. that’s all. There’s nothing else wet happening down there. Yeah. That’s probably it.

He doesn’t go for the toilet paper roll. Instead, Joel gets on one knee, right between yours, and reaches his hand between your thighs.

“Joel!”

He cups your mound, growling when his palm and digits come in contact with your hot, wet center. “Baby…”

‘Its just—just—pee—“

“It ain’t just pee,” he snickers, his eyes low.

His finger flicks your nub a little, taking his time to drag then through your slick folds.

He can feel the distinct throb in your core. Everything about his touch is even more heightened than it normally is. And he touches you down there a lot. But for the both of you right now, it’s like it’s new territory all over again. Your fingernails bite the side grips just as hard as your teeth sink into your tongue. 

He can tell you’re holding in your moans. “Stubborn little thing, ain’t ya?”

“Don’t t-talk,” you squeak. 

He shrugs. “Looks like I ain’t the only one who enjoyed that show.” He grips his hardened jean-clad cock with his other hand, grinding his palm into it as he plays with your wetness.

“I—“

“Do you want to give me another round?” He sneers. He delves his fingers further, finally parting your petals. “What am I gonna do with ya? Can’t even piss without my help—“

On cue, you let out a little extra squirt you didn’t realize you’d been holding in. He groans, feeling the heat of your urine soak his palm completely as he cups you fully.

 Grinding the heel of his hand into your clit, you start to feel lightheaded.

Before you can speak, he dips his middle and forefinger into his mouth, humming at the tangy, salty, slimy taste of your arousal and liquid gold coating him.

You gape at him.

Smacking his lips a final time, he leans close, and the scent of your fluids just barely coats his lips. "Want a taste?" he holds his hand out to your face, still slick with his saliva.

Every bell in your brain says to be a good girl and suck them clean.

So you do: your tongue slithers between the cracks, sucking the pads in until he's clean.

He takes his cue, knowing he’ll be in trouble if you pass out on his watch.

“Time to clean up, babygirl.”

He wipes the towels between your pussy-lips generously, soft and careful.

“I could—have—done that—myself—“ you stammer. Your body is still alive with jitters, but your brain is struggling to process what’s happened

Joel washes his hands thoroughly before helping you back up and to the sink yourself. He stands behind you so you don’t lose balance.

You prop your elbows along the vanity, careful to avoid his gaze staring back at you In the mirror. 

The water rushes against your knuckles as you generously lather the soap through the cracks and under your fingernails.

You feel his lips brush against the back of your head. And even more prominent, the bulge that nudges your ass cheeks perfectly.

“How long?” He whispers, giving a peck to your ear shell.

“4.”

“I hoped you say days…but it’s weeks, aint it.”

You turn around, wiping your hands dry with the towel. he tears your down, holding you close so you can lean on him for leverage. 

His lust filled eyes look ready to tear you apart all over again.

“Months.”

He looks ready to have a heart attack.

“WHAT!”

“Doc said 4 weeks on the walker. 4 months to be cleared for rigorous sexual activity.” You toss the paper towel, grab your walker, and saunter out of there with as much sexy confidence as girl on a walker with her bare ass swaying on display can muster.

He follows behind you. “You think I’m losing here?’

Pulling the sheets, you backward scoot until your thighs are at the edge of the bed. He helps hoist your ankles slowly in the air until you can lay back comfortable.

“Just remember. When I take you home…you can’t get up and do anything without my assistance. Right?” Joel nods to the nurse, who came back to check on you.

“S’right! You’ll need careful monitoring for any movement during your recovery. I’ll be back in a few minutes with your meds.” He leaves the room.

You gulp, unwilling to see the devilish look in Joel’s eyes.

He holds one of your empty jello cups. “Wonder if they’ll ask me to help ya piss in a cup if ya get some kind of infection…” he ponders.

- - - -

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel @fluffygoffpanda @picketniffler @bbyanarchist @94namkooksworld

[aemondapologistfrfr]

Not Yet

daemon x stepdaughter!reader

anon request - ty for letting me bring us filthy step daddy daemon

Summary: Daemon catches you tanning out back and has to do something about how he finds you.

Warnings: 18+ daddy kink, cheating, spanking, fingering, edging, p in v, raw next question

Authors Note: hey um this came so fast so did i i’ve got a ridiculous amt of daddy docs rn and im not mad at it - more daddy daemon coming soon, hopefully this week!!

Word Count: 2.2k of zero plot

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

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You had gotten into a fight with your mother which resulted in her excluding you from her vacation with your siblings. Not that you cared. It left you alone with the exception of your step dad, but he was busy working so basically you got to spend the next couple of weeks alone. By the time you woke up he was long gone and when he returned for the night you were already locked away in your room or out with friends.

Today the UVs were perfect and the slight breeze whispered of how it could offer a cooling kiss as you tanned by the pool. You throw together a bag on your bed of oils, sunglasses, and a book if you tire of your phone. You pull off your sleeping shirt and put on your favorite bikini. You admire yourself in the mirror and take a couple of pictures to post before you walk through the house. 

You stop in the kitchen and grab a couple of drinks and fruit before carrying your supplies out to the patio and dumping them onto the pool bed next to your favorite one. You set up the spare bed how you like it before moving the umbrella to cast your bed in the golden light. Once you have everything situated you start to coat your skin in your tanning oil before laying back on the bed. 

You sink into the plush material and a smile starts to form across your features. You grab your phone and play music and set an alarm to tell you when to flip before leaning back in the bed and letting the warmth take over. The breeze is wafting through the leaves and you can hear the slight ripple of the water helping truly put you at ease. The sweet smell of your oil greets your nose and you softly shake your head at how this is better than any vacation your mother would’ve taken you on.

Your alarm goes off and you peel your eyes open and start to sit up. When you move your bottoms shift and you groan seeing a tan line forming. You shrug knowing that your step dad won’t be home for hours and start to pull off your bikini. Once the fabric is discarded on the other bed you flip and restart your alarm. A shiver runs through you at the breeze and you smile clinging deeper to the pillow you’re resting against. The alarm goes off and you give a slight jump from being half asleep. You roll over in the sun once more and grab your phone and a drink. 

You smile at the comments on your post and read through them as you sip on the cool drink, the liquid offering you a small reprieve from the heat. Setting the drink down once more you go to set your alarm when the patio door slams shut. You turn and see your step dad and discard your phone and grab the blanket from the bed attempting to cover yourself.

“Why are you home?” you watch him walk around the bed and look down at you.

“This is my house.” Daemon watches the blanket shift as you sit up. “Why are you naked in the backyard? Where anyone could see.” you offer him a small pout at his words.

“No one will see.” he watches as the blanket starts to fall down your chest. “I don’t want any tanlines.” you scoot closer to him with pleading eyes.

“I came home and saw you. What if the gardener came? Or the neighbors?” he hums, tilting your chin further up. 

“But it's just you daddy.” you watch his eyes darken. 

“Put your bikini back on.” he pulls the blanket from your body. “Gods, you’re so indecent.” he watches your skin and nipples pebble from the breeze. 

You slowly stand from the bed and blink up at him before turning to the other bed and slowly grabbing your bottoms. As you step into them you wish this would’ve gone differently. You wish you met Daemon before your mother, but you quite like how your dynamic with him is now. You peak over your shoulder at him and see his jaw clenched and you turn back around, bending over to grab your top.

It is taking all of his restraint not to keep you bent over that bed. Your skin is glowing in the sun from the oil and he just wants to run his hands all over you. He gave up a long time ago trying to hide his desire for you. You're his favorite fantasy and he doesn’t try to deny that to himself. He doesn’t care that you’re his ste-

“Better, daddy?” you turn and look up at him. 

“This is your bikini?” he runs his tongue along his lower lip as he grabs one of the straps. “I’ve seen napkins bigger than this.” he shakes his head letting his fingers trail down your body. He starts to walk around you, never taking his hands off of you. “What tanlines could this possibly leave?” he chuckles.

“There would’ve been lines.” he notes how breathy your voice is.

“Mm.” he nods. He stops when he’s behind you and groans as the string to your bottoms disappears by your ass. He can’t help himself and digs his fingers into your tender flesh and you let out a small whimper. He pulls you against his chest and his hands engulf your breasts, “What do you think this is covering?” he whispers as he pinches your nipples that are barely covered by the small triangle.

“Daddy,” you whine when he rolls your nipples. 

“Out here naked for anyone to see.” he tsks and pinches your hardened peaks once more. “I’m gonna have to punish you.” you gasp when his lips press against your neck. Your soft whines are going straight to his cock and he pulls back and takes a seat on the bed you were tanning on. You turn to him with a soft pout and he raises his eyebrows at you. “Over my knees.” he grabs your arm and pulls you closer.

He helps settle you over his legs and all of his attention on your ass and the small string from your thong that disappears. When he softly tugs the string up his ears are graced with a small whine. He shushes you before pulling it more harshly before bringing his other hand down onto your ass. You dig into the blanket when his palm lands on your other cheek before quickly connecting with the first once more. 

“You know why daddy is spanking you right?” he starts to smooth his hands over your heated skin.

“Because I was naked.” you look over your shoulder at him. “Please,” you whimper when he pulls your thong again. 

“Because you were naked outside.” he watches your teeth dig into your lip when he spanks you again. 

“So I can be naked inside?” you squirm when his fingers dig into your ass.

“If I find you naked in the house you’re gonna end up over my knees again.” his palm lands on your ass again.

“Even if I’m in my room?” he watches you squeeze your legs together. He squints his eyes at you and starts to pull your bottoms off and sees your arousal soaking them. “Daddy,” you whimper when he spanks you again. He spreads your legs and watches your pleasure seep out of you as his palm continues to meet your ass.

“You’re not supposed to be enjoying your punishment this much, naughty girl.” he chuckles at your moan when his palm lands on your center.

“Yes, please,” you plead as he slams two fingers into you and lands his palm on your ass again. 

He listens to your pleasure coat his fingers as he continues to pound them into you while alternating spanking you. You have your head pressed against the bed as you fist the blankets focusing on his fingers. Your high is fast approaching and your toes start to curl as it races towards you. Daemon chuckles lowly watching your legs curl up towards him and he starts to move his fingers even faster. 

“Yes, I’m gonna-” you cut yourself off with the scream as he pulls his fingers out stealing your high from you. “Please, please,” you whine when he lifts you off.

“Take off this top and lay back on the bed.” he rises and towers above you watching you bare yourself to him once more. 

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to be naked outside anymore.” you look up at him once your top is discarded.

He grabs your arm and lifts you up to lay you on your back. You whine at the contact on your ass and squirm trying to get comfortable. You stop moving when Daemon starts to crawl over you and brings his hand between your legs. You sigh in relief when he starts to circle your slick bud. He starts to dip down but instead of capturing your lips he captures a nipple. His teeth tug at the peak and your legs try to shut around his waist. 

He slips his fingers back inside of you and listens to your high pitched cries. You’re slowly rocking your hips against his fingers as you feel your pleasure building once more. Daemon kisses and bites across your chest before taking your other nipple into his mouth. He barely swirls his tongue around it, just wanting to encase it in his warm mouth and tease you some more. He feels you start to flutter around him as your pleas get louder.

“Do you think you deserve to come?” he lifts up and watches you nod your head quickly. “Mm, I don’t think you want it enough yet.” he removes his hand and watches your chest heave as you look at him with round eyes. 

“Gods daddy, please,” he smirks, hearing your whining. “Please, I’ll be good, please, please,” you reach for his hand and he sits back. 

He watches as you spread your legs wider for him and he shakes his head. He grabs your hips and pulls you closer, smirking at your sigh of relief. You gasp as he lifts your hips and lowers his mouth and lashes his tongue against your bud. He watches your eyes roll back as you start to go limp. Wrapping his hands around you to support you better, he begins to devour you and watch your body hum with pleasure. 

You’re trying your hardest not to show him how much pleasure he’s giving you because you don’t want him to take it away again. Gods he’s licking at you so completely you can’t help every whimper and plea that makes it past your lips. He chuckles feeling your legs shake on either side of his head, the vibrations pulling a moan from you. 

“Please, yes, daddy I-

“Not yet.” he pulls back and watches as the tears slip over the edges of your eyes. “Mm, what's wrong?” he chuckles watching your lip wobble.

“Please, please,” you continue to plead as he lays you back on the bed. As you're wiping your face he quickly takes his clothes and is crawling over you once more. 

He presses his lips to your neck as you continue to plead. His fingers find your wetness once more, feeling his cock ache as listens to your begging. He starts to rub at your throbbing bud once more and you feel yourself shooting upwards. He watches as your eyes squeeze shut and he slams himself into your core. Your eyes rip open as a scream catches in your throat. 

“How does daddy’s cock feel?” he starts to pound into watching you slide up the bed. “Tell me.” he chuckles at your little gasps.

“Good, I-I, please,” your words breathy and slurred. “Can I-’ you cry out.

“Hm?” he leans down and rolls his hips into yours before continuing at this brutal pace. 

“Can I, please,” you whine. “Can I come please?” you gasp.

“You wanna come all over daddy's cock?” he watches you nod as your whole body trembles. 

“Please.” you whisper.

“Since you asked so nicely I’ll let you.” you explode at his words. “That’s my good girl.” he pants as he continues to pound into you.

His pace never falters as he chases his own release. You’re squeezing around him so tightly, it’s all his mind is focusing on. He has a bruising grip on your hips and he pulls you against him after every thrust. Your nails are digging into his arms as whines and gasps are pulled from you. With one last demanding snap of his hips he spills his seed into, pressing his forehead to yours and groaning lowly.

“Thank you.” you pant, clinging against him as waves of pleasure still wash through you.

“I’m not done with you yet.” he lifts you up and begins to carry you into the house.

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masterlist  ⏾  wips  ⏾  taglist

i just 🙂 

@ka1afbr @ninihrtss @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @alexxavicry @misspendragonsworld @papichulo120627 @ashovertheriver @gabriella-aesthetic @moonymoo1 @faenyra @uwuuness @lizzylovebooks280501 @nostalgiagoth03 @multilover19 @summer-and-sunflowers @eternalwinters @rere10 @sxlsvv @sarahrosw36q @tricksterreaper @somethingsaladsomething @naty-sunshine @supernaturalwitch89

[luxcuriousao3]

Part 2 of Alpha!ghost?? 🥺🥺

Please?

-🍒Anon

I've been sitting on this because I've been asking myself, "Will I write a full part two?" But the answer is probably not 😅 BUT I have part of a second chapter written, and I figure I can share a little bit of it. Think of it as an alternative ending I guess? It's not... happy, per say, but it does make Fevered Mistakes SIGNIFICANTLY less angsty lol. I guess you could call it a hopeful/open ending. And hey, I suppose if people want to see the other bits I've written for chapter two, I'll publish them, I just wouldn't call it canon.

Also I've never had emoji anons before, but I will happily accept you as 🍒 anon! I love cherries.

warnings: a/b/o, mentions of past rape, vageuly suicidal thoughts

When Simon woke up, he was alone.

He was cuffed to a hospital bed, and both his team and the omega were gone. Simon’s heart lurched in his chest. His omega. He’d claimed her. He’d raped her. He’d killed her.

Simon was not a good man. He hadn't been a good man in a long time. He’d done horrible, horrible things. Some he regretted, many he didn’t. He bore them all and kept going. But this…

He didn’t think he could live with this.

Suddenly, the door opened, and Johnny entered, clutching a cup of coffee. He looked haggard—face unshaved, hair unwashed, clothes rumpled and stained. There were heavy bags beneath dull blue eyes, but when he saw that Simon was awake, he perked up, rushing over.

“Thank fuck yer awake,” he said, slumping into the chair next to Simon’s bed and grasping his hand tightly. “Cannae take anymore o’ this waitin’ ‘round.”

“They gonna discharge me?” Simon asked, looking away. Looking at his hands, the ones that had killed that poor girl. My omega. He closed his eyes, unable to stand the sight of them.

“By the end of the day, m’guessin,” Johnny answered, and Simon let out a deep breath. He knew he deserved it, but he was surprised the military was moving so quickly. Usually this kind of thing took months of wading through red tape and bureaucratic bullshit. “Price is gettin’ the paperwork taegether now.”

Simon felt like he’d been punched in the gut. His own Captain...

“He recommend me for a dishonorable?”

“Wha—” Johnny started, brows furrowed in confusion before realization donned on him and his eyes widened. “I meant from the feckin’ hospital, ye numpty!”

“But— the omega,” Simon replied hoarsley, stumbling over his words in a way that was entirely uncharacteristic for him. He blamed it on the sucking, pulsating void in his chest, the guilt and the self hatred and the desire to take a long fucking walk off a short fucking pier and let the ocean claim him and tear him apart. Just like he’d done to her.

“Aye,” Johnny said, face growing solemn, his scent—eucalyptus, chocolate, and a clean, cool aftershave, a combination that shouldn’t have gone well together but was the most delicious thing Simon had ever smelled—grew bitter with sadness. “The omega... she’s alive, Si. In rough shape, but the docs think she’s gonna make it.”

[sincerestlove]

Mother Nature

thank you so much for the request Anon! i hope i did the idea justice!

Request: hii! my sincere welcome to tumblr, hope u find it a great community here 🫶 u said u were taking requests, i really liked ur writing so what about regina george and reader are on their periods but g gets extra mean and r gets super sensitive and emotional?

Pairing: Regina George x Reader

Warnings: None; just Regina being moody and mean

~

The second you woke up, you knew it was shark week.

You could feel the dull, painful ache in your lower stomach and the tension in your lower back. Your boobs were sore and to top it all off, you could feel a migraine working its way to the front of your head.

Yeah, today was going to be hell.

Sluggishly dragging yourself out of bed, you somehow managed to get ready for school, gathering all of your things into your backpack. You were about to text your girlfriend, Regina, who picked you up for school every morning, when you heard her obnoxious car horn outside your window. You figured she'd stop after her usual 3, but no.

She kept honking.

Rolling your eyes, you made your way downstairs and out the door. The second you laid your eyes on the blonde, you could tell she was in a bad mood. She looked stunning as usual though, clad in a pretty multicolored pink top, pink high-waisted jeans and her signature docs. It was Wednesday, after all.

"You want to stop staring and get in the car?" Regina all but snapped at you, bright blue eyes icy cold as they glared at you. You didn't respond but did as she asked, settling into the passengers seat. You leaned over to press a kiss to her cheek, but she leaned away, brushing you off.

Okay, ouch.

"Don't, Y/N. I did my makeup perfectly, today. You'd just mess it up."

You felt the harsh pang of sadness and hurt settle deep in your chest, turning away from her to stare out the window. The rest of the car ride to school was silent, thankfully. When you arrived and Regina parked the car in her usual spot, you rushed out, not stopping to hear anything more from her. She didn't say anything, anyway.

~~~

The rest of the day dragged on uneventfully, the only notable event being that your migraine had gotten substantially worse. By lunch time, your vision was blurry and you could barely keep your eyes open. Regina hadn't texted you all day either, which only made your mood worse than it already was. You were used to secretly texting in class, but she hadn't reached out at all. Settling at the Plastic's lunch table, you were the first one there, and decided to lay your head down, offering you some minimal but much needed relief.

"What are you doing? You look ridiculous, sit up." You looked up to see Regina towered over you, arms crossed, an annoyed look on her face. "God, you look awful. What, did you get hit by a bus?" She all but laughed at you, a sneer resting on her pretty lips.

You didn't know what her problem was, but ever since this morning, she had been mean to you. One thing about Regina that you knew for a fact, was that she was always nice to you. Ever since you met, she had been nothing but sweet. She had a soft spot for you. But today, something changed. You had enough of her bitchiness for one day.

You felt tears welling up in your eyes, a few of them falling down your cheeks. When Regina saw them, her expression changed, eyes softening, her hands reaching out to you. You swatted them away, standing up from the lunch table. "You know what? Fuck this. I'm going home." Without another word, you grabbed your backpack and made your way to the front doors of the school. This time, you heard Regina call out for you, but you didn't turn around.

You made it halfway down the walkway when you began seeing spots in your vision and fell to the ground. You groaned in pain, hands coming up to hold your throbbing head. Regina called out for you again, a moment later feeling her arms wrap around you. "Y/N, hey, what happened?!" That was the last thing you heard before everything faded to black.

~~~

When you opened your eyes again, you were laid in the nurse's office, headache still pounding against your temples. "Y/N?" Warm hands cupped your face, turning your head to meet a familiar pair of blue eyes filled with worry.

You smiled softly taking hold of her hand into yours. "Hi." She sighed with relief, leaning down to take your lips into a gentle kiss. She brought you into a tight hug, nosing herself deeper into your neck.

"God, I was so worried. I didn't know what happened to you, I just saw you fall." She rushed out, voice breaking at the end. You shook your head, running a hand through her hair.

"I'm fine, Gina. I'm just on my period. I think it's because I haven't eaten or drank anything all day and on top of my emotions, it caught up to me."

She lifted her head, meeting your gaze. "Y/N, I'm so sorry for being a bitch to you. I woke up and started my period today, too, which just ruined my whole mood." She sighed, brushing her thumbs over my cheeks. "But that doesn't excuse how I treated you and how I acted. I'm so sorry for hurting you and making you cry. I'm so sorry."

You saw tears bubbling up in Regina's eyes, making your heart ache. You knew she wouldn't and couldn't be mean to you without something going on. "It's okay, Gina. I know you didn't mean it, I was just hurt and confused. I didn't know if you hated me, or what."

"Of course not. I could never ever hate you. I'm sorry, baby." Regina kissed you then, running her hands up and down your shoulders soothingly. "I promise I will make it up to you. For now, c'mon, let's get you some painkillers, food and water."

You nodded gratefully, taking the hand she offered you. Leading you out of the nurses office, she guided you to the cafeteria and sat you down at the table. She kissed you once more, before walking off to the lunch line.

Gretchen, Karen and Cady were all staring at you like you were an alien.

"What, is there something on my face?" You reached up, wiping a hand on your eyebrows and cheeks.

The three girls smiled at each other knowingly. "Yeah, it's called Regina George's complete love and adoration."

You rolled your eyes at them, falling into familiar banter and gossip about the happenings of the school. Regina returned a few minutes later, armed with a full tray, a bottle of water and an Advil. You smiled at her warmly, waiting until she sat down beside you to kiss her. "Thank you, Gina." You mumbled against her lips, feeling her smile.

"You're welcome, baby."

~

i hope you enjoyed!

please leave requests if you have any ideas! :)

[ryescapades]

*ੈ‧₊༺ “ALL HIS GUNS WERE BLAZING,”

characters: narumi gen (kn8) x gn!reader contents: sfw, jealous!narumi, hint of ex!narumi, open ending wc ~ 600

a/n: CHAT I KNOW THIS SETUP IS REPETITIVE but i just couldn't help it ... anw, short break before i continue (and try) working on my 1k event ^_^ this was supposed to be the intro piece to the anon req about nrm and lana’s serene queen but i kinda stopped halfway ..

Narumi absolutely hates feeling like this.

It’s curling in the depth of his guts, writhing and squirming like parasites feeding on its host. His chest feels tight, as if there’s an iron fist controlling the way it beats, oppressive and ruthless and cruel. It’s green, it’s mucky, it’s repulsive.

He tries his damnedest to tear his eyes away, but the sight in front of him makes it impossible to do so. It burns. His heart burns. An emissary of his own tribulation, his focus continues to fix on the ravenous gazes feasting on you, trying to steal away all your attention that was meant only for him.

It used to be, at least.

The lights reflect from the crystals on the chandelier hanging above, highlighting all the glorious velvets and diamonds in the decorated ballroom. You stand in the small crowd of tattling officers and superiors alike, an expression of ease and cordiality stuck on your stunning face.

Playing nice during formal events such as this has never been his forte. Scandalmongers and… ass kissers (as he’d like to put it) hide behind sugary smiles and honeyed praises, seeking attention only to gain benefits of their own.

They get to the very end of his nerves, and the fact that he’s more or less required to attend these events make them even worse to be at. Not to mention the various threats from Hasegawa about throwing away his games if he doesn’t at least show his face here.

Forget about the kaijus, humanity itself is in another league of monstrosity.

As one of the strongest officers around, Narumi is subjected to being the center of all the gossip and envious stares. Men and women wish they were him, some even flocking themselves around him in hopes they’d eventually get the chance to be one of those in his orbit.

He couldn’t care less about those people though.

However, when it comes to you…

Narumi’s eye twitches again when the man you’re talking to steps just a tad bit closer, thinking you won’t notice such a subtle action. The audacity of that man? And it’s not just him, either. He’s all too aware of the vultures lurking around in the hall, hushedly whispering and eyeing you like you’re a piece of meat. He gets it. He really does.

You’re gorgeous, talented, ridiculously strong in all manners of combat, and you’re his, you’re his, you’re hi—

A sudden touch on his arm stops him short, a hand running itself down his bicep like it had any business doing so. He’s then reminded of the female officer from another division that has been on his ass for the past ten minutes, looking all too friendly as she continues to prattle on about her achievements in the Defense Force; a pathetic attempt at convincing him once again to vouch for her promotion to her own captain.

He wanted to push her away, wanted to rush off to the exit of this goddamn place to go back to the comfort of his office and spend time in the virtual world, but when his sensitive irises catch the telltale sign of discomfort on your face from the foreign and filthy hand trying to snake its way around your waist, he thinks his mind had blacked out from how unconsciously his next set of actions feels.

It’s like there’s a different entity taking over him, leading him to march towards where you are. The conversation you were having with the obnoxious man is halted, and you can barely get a word out before the captain pushes the officer off you, grabbing your hand in his before he drags you away into the night...

been sitting in my wip doc for like ,, idk Months

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[gay-dorito-dust]

hi hiii its my first time ever asking anyone idk how this works ( ;｀Д´)

i rlly love your writing, i often find myself staying up late reading through your blogs!! funny bcs u were the one who got me into jason todd (ФωФ)

anyways!!! i was hoping you could pls pls pls pls plssssss write smth about Jason Todd who has a lover thats a sleep-deprived uni student having a hell week and jason is like "bitch put google docs down and get some sleep, ur ass has been awake for 48 hours" all worried and wanting them to rest and reader is like "correction, 50 hours."

i hope it makes sense (´ 3｀)

tyyyyy!!! woopee woopee

Sorry this took so long to get to anon, I hope you liked it either way. And don’t stay up too late reading fics but I truly appreciate you reading my stuff, I’m glad you like them 🦦🐿️

A week.

An entire week Jason had noticed you have been forcing yourself to stay up at the dead of night, glued to your laptop all the while chugging energy drinks and cups of coffee as though they were going out of style, and for what? An assignment that determined your future at uni should you not get straight marks.

Jason thought it ridiculous that you made yourself sleep deprived over this but he knew that if he didn’t do anything about it, then you’ll continue this habit until you were well out of university, struggling to come to terms that you had well and truly burnt yourself out before you could properly start living.

So when Jason couldn’t fell you next to him in bed one night, like you promised him you would, and groaned as he got himself out of bed before making his way towards the kitchen where he’d knew you’d be.

‘What time do you call this?’ Jason asked when he saw you in your usual spot at the kitchen counter, hunched over your laptop with a thin blanket frapped over your shoulders and a can of energy drink on one side of the laptop and a cup of coffee on the other side. He hated what this stupid university has made you do just in order to get good grades, it was harmful, damaging and it would inevitably lead to health complications later on in life; If he could Jason would more then gladly march down there and threaten the professors to stop shoving a boatload of work onto their students, but firstly he has to get you away from that damn laptop and learn how to take a fucking break.

‘Mid-afternoon?’ You asked, not looking up from the bright screen of your laptop, where the words scrawled across it in an incoherent mess for your overworked brain to comprehend.

‘It’s actually 3:30 in the morning.’ Jason replied unamused as he crossed his arms over his chest and you winced when you saw that he was indeed right about it being three thirty in the morning. ‘Don’t you think it’s time that you shut the laptop off and get some sleep?’

‘But I-‘

‘Actually sleep.’ Jason cuts you off as you slumped back into your chair, unable to come up with a decent enough response to defend yourself with because deep down you knew Jason was right, you’ve hadn’t had a decent sleep in a long while and it was definitely taking it’s toll with how lightheaded you’ve become as of late.

You sighed and ran your hands down your face. ‘Jason I can’t, I’ve got-‘

‘An assignment to complete for tomorrow I know.’ Jason cuts you off again as he crossed the room to put his hand over the top of your coffee cup upon noticing that you were intending to take another drink from it. ‘But I look at you and can tell you can barely keep your eyes open for more than five minutes.’ He adds and upon your silence, he puts the cup aside as far as he could before doing the same with the half empty energy drink, and then finally shutting the laptop close despite your weak protests for him not to.

‘No, Jason my assignment, I need to finish it.’ You told him with slow, sluggish movements as you tried to pry his hand off of your laptop, all the while biting back a yawn. ‘Just give me five more minutes please and I’ll come to bed, promise.’

Jason had enough of this habit of sleepless nights, it ends now, the professors will have to understand and extend the due date for your sake as he remembered how often you had harped on about how important this assignment was for your overall grade; However Jason didn’t take neglecting your bodily needs lightly and would prioritise that over anything else,you could hate him all you wanted but he was only looking out for you and your wellbeing.

‘Sorry chipmunk but I can’t watch you do this to yourself for any longer than I already have.’ Was all Jason said as he then lifted you out of your chair suddenly causing you to yelp in surprise and cling onto him for dear life, now being more awake then you ever have been five minutes ago, as he then proceeded to carry you back towards the bedroom before unceremoniously dropping you onto the bed.

‘Jason, I seriously needed to get that assignment-‘

‘We are going to sleep, end of discussion.’ Jason said with finality as he crawled under the covers and quickly held you against his chest as tightly as he could, rubbing his hands up and down your back soothingly. ‘I know how important this assignment was for you sweetheart but I’d much rather have you well rested, clear minded and healthy than to ever to have you pass out in my arms from exhaustion. I want my baby happy and healthy and you are neither of those things right now.’ Jason whispers into your ear, kissing the side of your head a couple of times before resting his forehead against yours so that he was looking into your weary half lidded eyes.

‘Look at you, you can barely keep your eyes open.’ He spoke with worry laced in his words.

‘You’re really warm and comfy jay birdie.’ You murmured, feeling the need for sleep grow ever stronger the longer you stayed in his arms as it fogged your mind.

‘I know, so please we can talk to the professor in the morning and sort something out, but until then no more late nights understand?’ Jason said firmly as he held you a little tighter, he just wanted you to get a decent nights sleep and be looked after properly but all these late nights weren’t cutting it and were making your situation worse, how were you meant to get anything done when you were half out of it due to overworking and lack of a sleep schedule? Were the professors at your university thinking they were teaching robots instead of humans with breaking limits?

‘Okay I understand, I love you.’ You replied sleepily as you burrowed your head into his neck, falling asleep in record time as Jason stayed awake a little longer as to make sure you were properly asleep before following suit, watching over you in the dream realm as he did the waking one.

[sordidmusings]

How to Break Rules (Sir Crocodile x Reader)

Art by xuchuan25 on x!

TUMBLR ATE THE FUCKING ASK WHEN I SAVED IT AS A DRAFT 🙃 luckily I had it saved in my doc and it was anon so they wouldn't have been notified anyway

Anon Ask: Crocodile doesn't seem like the type to kiss during sex unless he's down bad. Maybe he starts a casual relationship with a strict "no kissing on the lips" rule but anywhere else is fair game. It's fun to think of the different ways a possible "first kiss" could happen when he's already rawed you lol and the different reactions if he initiates it or you do and whether it's spur of the moment or calculated.

A/N: OOOOOOOOOO love this and have actually come across this in my own travails haha as someone who loves service, there is such a rush in being told “you can kiss me anywhere but my lips; you have to earn that” 😩 Like it’s just dangling that fruit of how much of a rush it’ll be when you earn the right, when you’re told you’ve been so good for so long. It is also kind of a wild and intense dynamic to be in to have done So Much Stuff but not a simple kiss 💀💀💀

I will also say that I have a WIP smut request in this vein that has been FIGHTING ME FOR MONTHS 🥲 except it’s reader who has put down the rule of “no kissing” and the reason is because love is a requirement for it. Hoping this exercise helps get more flowing for continuing that beloved behemoth 🙏🏻 Ficlets and thoughts in bulleted form below! They get longer as they go because that’s what tends to happen for me lol

Word Count: ~3k total over a few scenarios and such

Warnings: brief allusions to sex but nothing nsfw, gn!reader, not actually unrequited love, a few flavors of reader personality, from very bratty to docile, for dynamic variety 🤌🏻, jealousy/possessiveness

Goodies below the cut - dig in (‘∀’●)♡

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

At first I was a bit clinical in my brainstorming of this, more stuck on the grid of who does it to who 

He kisses you

Involuntarily

Poor croc is finally at his limit in keeping his lips from yours and being so deep in indulging in all the rest of you is his undoing. Every piece of you feels so good even though every moment with you is agony - agony from having you but not all of you, being with each other but not belonging to each other. He was Tantalus and you were his fruit and drink, always slipping just past his fingertips. If he could taste you, share your breaths, feel your voice, then maybe he’d finally stop wasting away. 

On purpose

You’ve been vexing him with your teasing, always gifting him the touch of your soft lips everywhere but his own. He didn’t want to be the one to fold on his own rule, but no matter how loose he got your mind, how far you were from forming words, how pliant and placating, you’d kiss him and kiss him and kiss him but never his lips. It didn’t matter if he hovered his own over yours close enough to taste your voice on the air, you’d never push forward. It was maddening. 

One day he finally barks at you after you turn your face away, “Why do you always run?” 

You answer, confused and honest, “You told me I wasn’t allowed.” 

The response is a hook at your neck, pulling you closer; a hand in your hair, cradling you; a mouth on your own, consuming you.

A promise to you that you’re truly his

This Sir Croc warms more to the idea of you being his with no qualms stemming from his own pride. 

It took a long while, but your home in Croc’s life was built brick by brick, sure and steady and obvious. He noticed it and kept an eye on it like he did with everything, but he did not reject nor rush it. No, it was inevitable beyond his will, the way you slipped into his head and chest and nested there. No stubbornness would stop the way it warmed him. No clinging would allow you deeper into a space that was always meant to be yours. As he first noticed the foundation you’d set, saw the promise of his future in your care and vision, he knew he was meant to exist next to you. 

He waited for this understanding to sink in you too. It never did. 

No matter his well-thought gifts, steadfast support, or opulent compliments, you never pressed to take more promises from him than he offered himself, never set to make claim to him outside of closed doors. He knew he had to change that. 

The thought possesses him the next time he brings you around with him and someone has the gaul to approach you. They ask about why Croc keeps you so close to see if they had a chance to stick to your side instead. That won’t do. 

Croc stalks over quickly, seeping dominance but not quite aggression. When he gets to you, he places a weighty hand on your right shoulder and leans over the left, fully encasing you in his presence. 

All the other man sees is the threat leaning over your shoulder and he scatters before you can finish saying “-my boss.”

Much happier with Croc surrounding you, you lean back into his warm chest. A low chuckle plays with the hair around your ear, causing you to shiver in delight.

“A boss? Is that all I am to you?” There’s a teasing lilt to his deep voice, one steeped in deep fondness.

“Of course not,” you assure. He guides you to turn with his hook under your chin, letting his fingers tickle the back of your neck to your other shoulder as you spin to face him. The smile on your lips is easy and familiar and softens Croc into clay, ready and happy to be molded into whatever you want. Yet you always just ease him back into his own shape, each time with fewer cracks and dents, waiting for him to be as solid as he’d like for when he enters the kiln.

“Then tell me, dear,” his voice is as warm and rich as the purple of his eyes. He pulls his cigar from his lips with two fingers. You watch his lips as he speaks. “What am I?”

Before the falter in your smile can fully steal it away, Croc slips forward to taste it on your lips. You freeze and Croc snakes his hook behind your neck to pull you forward, but by the time it gets there you’re already pressing into him. You’d never forgive yourself if you didn’t savor the feeling of finally belonging fully to each other.

You kiss him

Power Move

Sir Croc never seemed able to control you and he loved and loathed it in equal parts. It’s one of the reasons he sought you in the first place. You knew exactly when to push and when to follow, when to challenge and when to submit. It was a very rare day when you genuinely got on his nerves.

Today is a very rare day.

You’re clearly upset with Sir Croc - not leaning into his affection, barely answering his attempts at conversation, unwilling to look at his face for more than a second. More than anything you refuse to tell him what’s wrong.

Now, you’re not doing it just to piss him off; you don’t feel quite allowed to be upset about the issue so you don’t want to share. You don’t want to have an attitude but every time you see him it reminds you of the realization that you’d do anything for him. Worse than that, that thought was immediately followed by the Knowing that you aren’t his and the uncertainty that you ever will be.

Right now, you feel like you’re not his to have, but his to use.

Though, he does give you special treatment. He lets you closer to him than any others, treats you with gentleness except when you corner him into using a firm hand. He’s never even used his power over you when it’s not for play and pleasure. Except for one little rule.

No kissing on the lips. 

You thought you’d earn it months ago. You’ve earned everything else, every sweet treatment and treasure you could think of will be yours if you ask it of him. He’s come to spoil you even more rotten than a queen with her fat lap dog, and yet you’ve not gotten a single kiss to the lips.

It’s begun to feel like he’s keeping it from you to let you know he’ll never fully give himself to you because he never fully intended to keep you. And it hurts.

And now he’s mad because you’re mad but you can’t tell him why you’re mad and the whole thing is maddening.

You watch him knock the ash off his dwindling cigar into the ornate ceramic tray on his desk. The heavy sigh accompanying it annoys you. Why is he the one sighing?

Oh, now he’s rubbing at his temple. He thinks he’s frustrated? You’ll show him frustration.

“Should I go?” You ask, peeking at him from the corner of your narrowed eyes.

“Do you want to go?” Croc rebuts, sounding confounded and at the end of his rope.

You eye him unhappily. 

Instead of responding, you stand up from the leather sofa across from his grand desk. It’s a decent distance, two chairs to its sides are placed closer, but of course you chose to sit away from him today. It’s to your advantage now; you need space for your next move.

You make your way to him slowly, swerving your hips smoothly the way he likes and adding a teeny bit of weight to each step - both to be closer to stomping and to have the motion give a slight bounce to all the soft parts of you for him to watch.

And watch he does - his face melts into the hungry admiration he saves for you, albeit still a bit guarded. 

When you get to his desk, instead of addressing him you gracefully gather the papers spread across it into your hands. You take a moment to pretend to scan through and consider them, only to frisbee them onto one of the chairs.

Croc’s eyes turn sharp and burning.

“Brat-” he cuts himself off, looking at your face and picking up that you’re having even less fun than he is. He sucks in a tense breath and hisses it back out. Let’s try that again.

“Am I working too much and you need more attention? Is that why you’re having a fit?”

Good enough.

“If I was having a fit, the whole base would know,” you bite back at him.

Instead of arguing or redirecting, Sir Croc settles on watching you. Nothing’s worked, so he’ll just allow you to take this wherever it’s headed.

You plant your palms on his desk and let the quiet linger. He lets you lean into his space and stare him down. He’s unsure what you’re looking for and honestly so are you. You’re unsure if you find it but you do find some fortitude in the settling air. You finally speak up.

“Do you remember the rule you set when we started this…” your eyes flit around, searching for the right word, “agreement?”

“No kissing on the lips unti-”

Your hand is fisted in his shirt, your lips are warm and insistent against his.

You expect anger, pulling back, or even shoving hands. Instead, Croc is scrambling out of his seat, careful to keep your lips locked, and helping you to clamber over the desk towards him with a greedy grip. You won’t be free from his taste or hold the whole night through. Now that they’ve had you, they’ll haunt you all your days, keeping him alive with each time they possess you.

You sneak your way into it

Sir Crocodile doesn’t get to enjoy late risings often. That’s why he makes sure to wring them of all they’re worth, and that’s only become better with you there. 

Knowing that the morning lacked a rude awakening, you both indulged in a night of the senses - seeing the sights, hearing live music, eating and drinking with abandon before coming home to get your fill of each other in all five senses, especially touch.

As Sir Croc comes back to his body, floating from the abyss of sleep one breath at a time, he finds his sense of touch being coaxed and teased. Gentle fingers brush across his skin along familiar trails made to map and admire his large form. They round over muscles, press into places of softness, tickle at the sensitive skin of his wrist, his blunted forearm, his hips, his neck.

The touches all feel so full of adoration and something else he’s felt more and more from you. He’s finding it harder and harder to ignore, especially because he’s used to adoration and there’s something different in yours - something softer, gentler, surer. Something he is sure by now is genuine love.

Each time it comes out he lets it wash over him as best he can without solidifying its bond. After all, this was never meant to be love.

But feeling your affection made it impossible to ignore how much better life would be if he always woke up with you.

Sir Croc encourages more of your touches, following them where he could and bedding his cheek into the top of your head. You happily snuggle deeper against him and his heart leaps.

Knowing he’s awake, you begin placing sweet kisses against his skin, teasing at the edge of his trimmed chest hair. He lets out a long breath with the undertone of a content groan rumbling through it. You smile against the plush of his pec, happy he’s still fuzzy from sleep and primed for your plot

Your lips trail and massage higher, over clavicle and to neck. He tilts his jaw away to give you free reign of the sensitive skin from his throat to his ear. Your thigh mimics the rising of your lips, trailing slow and tender over Croc’s front until it brushes from his thigh to his stomach. The rise and fall with his breathing is calming under you and the steadiness made it easier to notice when his breathing hitched and his muscles twitched against you.

His hand returned your affection mindlessly, simply following whatever instinct compelled him. Mostly it trailed from the nape of your neck to your hip and back, taking small moments to press you closer when he didn’t want one of your kisses to move quite yet.

Everything was deep breaths echoing against skin, the comforting pressure of bodies melding wherever you touched, the dance of give and take with affection. Each place you pushed your love, Croc opened himself to feel more of it, even when you left his shoulder chest and neck to explore his scarred cheek

He doesn’t even hesitate to let you near when you first trail the tip of your nose over the strong angle cut by his jaw. The barely there stubble blended to a moment of pure softness before being interrupted by the ridges of his scar

Croc is fully and willingly enchanted by your soft and smooth actions. He couldn’t bear to make you stop, couldn’t care for any pretense or boundary of his it would break so long as you don’t stop touching him so sweetly. His whole body feels light and alive and he’s struck with the realization that he’s as in deep as you are.

You place your first kiss to his face on his scar where it cuts across his cheekbone. He presses just a millimeter deeper into the plush of your lips

You follow the path of the scar, feeling his lashes tickle the tip of your nose on your way. All the while Croc keeps his languid caresses going on your skin, still lulled by recent sleep and the comfort of your touch and warmth and the want for more.

When you get to the bridge of his nose, you break contact to press your foreheads together. His hand slips up your back to rest at the back of your neck, holding you to him. You bump your nose on his and he bumps back. You tilt to leave a kiss on his cheek. His finger tail up to softly scratch at the base of your skull. You smile against him and feel his own cheek rise momentarily against you.

Sir Crocodile feels more free of thought and obligation than he has in years. Your slow acts of worship have brought out a peace in him that he’s rarely known. There is no rush or push, just a calmness and sureness that this is where he should be and how he should feel. That you both belong here.

And then something changes when you kiss right outside the corner of his lip.

He is left wanting.

You linger at the spot before moving just barely away and coming back just a hair closer to his own lips.

Each near miss felt unnatural and unsatiating, quickening his heart and breath in his discomfort and discontent. The hand at your head goes from caressing to holding, urging you to stop fleeing and teasing.

You smile again against him and this time there’s no mirrored grin from him; he’s falling too quickly into a pit of need, one he didn’t notice you digging with every caress and kiss.

You tease  your lips to the corner of his, planning to press more firmly directly on target, but his hand grips you firmly and he’s turning and insistent lips slot hungrily against yours.

You gasp in delight while he shudders out a breath he’s been holding since he met you.

Then I had a better angle come to me by remembering a basic writing preference, that the circumstances around the kiss - the ‘why’ not just the ‘what’ are much better for generating a scene, luckily in the above I think I amended that mistake when I went into more detail! (keeping these more to the stream I originally wrote them in cuz I fear I went on too long above LOL)

He kisses you after fearing for your safety

He kisses you for fear you’ll leave

You kiss him in anger, wanting to prove you’re worthy

He kisses you while you sleep, too afraid for you to know the hold you’ve had on him all along

He kisses you to soothe you, pull you from your fears and sorrows to just float with him in your little bubble away from all the hurts of the world, held aloft by sensation and need and affection

He kisses you to possess you, someone else coming too close and needing the message

You kiss him in joy, ignoring all the dirt and grime that came back with him from Impel Down

You kiss him with a sorrowful heart, needing to comfort the man who was larger than life now sat sadly before you bare of all, even his golden hook and ego

You kiss each other, your lips had sweetly made their way up his neck and across that strong jaw, coming to rest unsure right at the corner of his lips, your shaky breathes puff sweetly across his cheek as he tilts his head to rest temple to forehead, the turn to face you fully is slow and caressing, his own breath coming to mingle with yours, your noses bushing gently. The barest tilt of his head has your lax lips tentatively brush his, just the faintest tickle of skin on skin. A shaky exhale - his or yours you’re not sure - and your lips press more surely, first easing in like the first step into dark waters before you both succumb to diving under. A fierce grip slips to the nape of your neck, endlessly dragging you closer

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Thank you for reading and thank you anon for your ask 💜 I'm gonna be better at getting back to the others (life was being life lol) and up next I have some comfort fics and x marine reader! And perhaps a little filth 👌🏻

Masterlist

[darlingdaisyfarm]

Howdy! Jdjdjfh I hope you're still taking Gravity Falls Stan/Ford requests--

What if the reader and Ford/Stan (separate) were married, but the reader suffered a traumatic head injury in a car accident? This injury causes them to be unable to retain memories for more than a day. Every morning, they wake up next to this mysterious, handsome man who has to explain to them that they are married—and have been for years. The reader can't help but feel guilty about this situation. :( We need some lovey-dovey comfort

Sorry if this is long or complicated kfhfkfh thank you for your time!!

Have a good day/night :)) 💗 love your writing so much

you’ll always remember | Stanley Pines x reader

tags: sfw, memory loss, established relationship

a/n: hi, lovely anon! thank you for sending this in and for your sweet words!💗 this little piece focuses on Stan for now. but don’t worry, i’ve got something equally heartfelt coming for Ford too, ill post it a lil bit later

thank you for trusting me with your emotions and have a beautiful day/night, darling!

Ford version

you open your eyes and the next thing you feel is headache, your head feels. . . way too heavy, but sadly, not from oversleeping or the nice kind from sleeping in. it’s different type of pain. 

you rub your eyes, feeling lost and blink around the room, with fear realising you don’t understand where you are. your messy thoughts are interrupted by the bed creaking when you sit up and your heart does this awful little jump when you see him.

this man.  

this. . . mysterious man with a broad chest, an old tank top clinging to it. there’s golden chain around his neck, glinting against the soft peppered hairs of his chest. 

and you. . . you don’t know him.  

your stomach twists immediately. the room doesn’t look familiar, either, nothing does. these stacks of magazines, mugs, a nightstand that’s barely holding itself together. you hear a faint sound of birds outside, but even that won’t calm your mind 

“mornin’, sweetheart, sleep okay?”  

your heart lurches, panic curling up your throat. you try to get up from bed, but everything feels too heavy and weird, your body barely listens to you, your limbs hurt

you freeze, looking a bit scared, but more than all confused. “who— who are you?” 

Stanley sighs, nodding at your words, agreeing with you. it’s not the first time he’s heard it. you can tell from the way his face falls, his smile disappearing, but then he covers it up with a gentle grin

“right. uh, this part,” he mutters, scratching the back of his neck. “okay, so. you don’t remember me. look, baby, my name’s Stan. Stanley Pines. i’m your husband.”

your what?

“yeah, i know. sounds like a bad joke, but it’s true. you’ve got, uh. . .” he avoids your wide-eyed stare. “you’ve got a thing. memory stuff. from the accident. doc says you won’t remember much past a day. it’s been like this for a while now, heh.”

his tone doesn’t sound all that happy, because for Stanley it’s just as hard as it is for you. he explains it like it physically pains him to spell all this shocking nonsense out for you.

“i know this ain’t fair to you. shit, it ain’t fair to either of us. but i’m here. i’ll always be here, ‘kay? even if you wake up every day thinkin’ i’m some creep who wandered in off the street.” 

you just look at him, unable to understand what he’s talking about after the word “husband”. husband. . . gosh, feels like your brain just started to hurt more. your mind scrambles, clawing at the edges of something it can’t reach, no matter how hard you try.

“don’t— don’t look so freaked out, kid,” Stan says quickly, seeing your panic. “here, look—”  

he reaches for something on the nightstand, hoping each time that it will work. Its an old picture frame, a little bit worn, but when he holds it out with a hopeful look, you see yourself in it. laughing. leaning into him. his arm’s slung around your shoulder as he grins, his fez perched crookedly on his head. 

“that’s us,” Stan says softly, watching your reaction. “took that on our anniversary, up at lookout point. you love that spot, always goin’ on about the view. even dragged me up there at sunrise once.” he chuckles, but his eyes are watching you carefully, he’s waiting you to give some reaction, please just. . . please. he waits to see that beautiful smile of yours he always loved so much and you want to smile. you want to remember. 

but there’s nothing.  

corners of your mouth lowers and your chest tightens, guilt bubbling up inside. “i. . .” wait, what was his name again? damn. “don’t remember that. i don’t remember you.”

Stan’s smile wobbles for half a second before he catches it. “yeah, i figured. but that’s okay. s’not your fault, sugar.”  

you hate that. you hate how kind he is about it, how patient, but at the same time how broken his voice sounds.

Stanley sighs, rubbing at his face, trying to scrub away years of exhaustion. then he looks at you again.

with hope in his eyes.

“here, how about this?” he says suddenly, brightening. he pulls open the nightstand drawer and takes out another photo, this one of you, him and some. . . kids? it’s twins, a boy and girl in some funny looking sweater, both with brown hair, all of you standing by the lake. you’re holding up a huge fish, grinning from ear to ear, and Stan’s standing behind you with his hands on your shoulders looking so damn proud of his lovely little human.

“this was last summer,” Stan tells you, tapping the glass with his thumb. “we went fishin’. you caught that sucker all by yourself. wouldn’t stop braggin’ for weeks.”

a faint smile appears on your lips. 

“still got the tackle box you picked out, too,” Stan adds with a laugh. “you said the one i had was too ‘junkyard chic.’ you’ve got a sharp tongue on ya, y’know that?”  

your fingers tremble as you reach to take photo from his hands. you look at it, look at that person who looks like you, with a smile’s brighter than the sun and these eyes. . . sparkling, as if you’ve just heard the funniest joke in the world.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper, staring down at your hands. tears spilling down your cheeks. “i- i don’t know how you do this. every day. i can’t- i can’t even remember, Stan.”

the first time you said his name. 

“hey, hey.” his hand comes up, hovering over your shoulder, rubbing it slightly to calm you. he’s not sure if it’s okay to touch you yet, he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but you look up and he’s already leaning closer. “don’t you dare apologize for this, sweetheart. you didn’t ask for it. none of this is your fault, y’hear me?”  

you nod weakly, but he isn’t done.  

“you’re still you. still the same stubborn, beautiful, funny, smart, pain-in-the-ass i fell for, okay? you’re stuck with me, like it or not. you take all the time you need, honeybun. i’m not goin’ anywhere.”

you nod, still doubting, lowering your eyes to that photo again. 

“now, how about we get some breakfast? you always say my stancakes are the best damn thing in oregon.” Stan smiles at you because you’re his whole world. and even though the pieces don’t always fit in your mind, Stanley still loves you with this kind of affection that’s lived a thousand lifetimes and he knows, somewhere deep in your mind, you love him too. he just gotta try a bit harder.

when you meet his eyes, for the first time, you feel something painfully familiar deep inside of you. as if he’s the one you’d always reach for in a sea of faces. and you laugh softly

“i say that, huh?” 

“every time,” noticing that little change in your voice, Stan grins and winks at you. “c’mon, let me prove it to ya, baby.”

even though your head’s a mess and your heart feels like it’s been put through a blender, you want to believe him. you take his hand, noticing a ring around his finger and only now you realise you are wearing one too

….

“but what if i never remember?” you ask as you trace the edges of his beautiful face with trembling fingers, trying to commit it to memory.

he just smiles and wraps his big hands around your waist.

“then i’ll just remind ya every day. as long as it takes.”

[revelboo]

hey, im the anon that originally asked for bluestreak content and i wanna thank you- reading what you've written for him has gotten me through so much these past few months. i picked up some scans of mtmte awhile back and was looking through some for drawing references of the scavengers and i! didnt!!! know that he dies!!! and when i say it hit me really hard it hit me ufckin hard and just. i asked about him not knowing much about him outside of him liking movies nstuff, initially, and you fleshed him out to the point that my chest physically ached for awhile after finding that out last night. hes come to mean a lot to me in a short amount of time and ALL THIS TO SAY: TLDR: your grasp on character writing and world building is impeccable, its made me want to create- like REALLY create, drawing and writing both- for the first time in awhile- like picking it back up i mean. thank you, and take care of yourself this holiday, alright?

He’s a character that I’ve always liked. The chatterbox sniper that can’t stop talking. I’ve always figured the nervous chatter was a stress thing for him.

I’m glad you like my writing and if it makes you happy to create, please do

Where I Belong Pt 9

Bluestreak x Reader

• Anxiety cranking through him as he leans on Smokescreen and tries to keep his other hand on your legs where you’d perched yourself on his shoulder, he makes his slow, careful way to medbay. Wishes you wouldn't sit up there, because it spins him tight with the fear that you'll fall, and he won't be able to catch you in time. Especially now. You never seem to realize how small or breakable you are and it amazes and terrifies him. “Your human’s scary,” Smokescreen whispers and you make a noise suspiciously like a laugh. He’d never seen you so angry as when you'd demanded Smokescreen come back and take him to medbay, but scary? No, just worried for him and it means so much to him. A warmth that spreads through him and twines about his spark. Because that anger had been fear for him. Trying to protect him the only way you could.

• One hand braced on the side of his helm for balance, you're half tempted to lean out and shoot a dirty look at his buddy. The feel of Bluestreak's servos pressing against your legs and thighs convinces you not to, though. Most likely he'll think you're going to fall and grab for you, so you behave as he limps to medbay with his friend's help. But it drives home how small you are compared to them, how little you can actually do to help if Bluestreak really needs it. Maybe he could have made it here without the other Autobot's help. Maybe not. And if he is hurt worse than he's letting on, if Smokescreen had left him, you wouldn't have been able to get help. Too small to even get down from his berth or to work the massive door if you could find a way down. Helpless and you hate it.

• "I'm not going in there. Doc's been cranky about anyone waking his human," Smokescreen says as he stops shy of the door. Thanking him, Bluestreak lets himself in and slowly limps inside. He can't blame Smokescreen for not wanting to deal with Ratchet in a mood. But he's not expecting to see Ratchet sitting on the side of a berth, big frame curled forward and servos brushing a small form curled on its side. That gentle touch almost feels like something private he shouldn't have intruded on. Head lifting, the medic's optics are tired when they meet his. Like he's not recharged in a while. Growling as he pushes away from that small shape to point at an empty berth. "Do I even want to know?" Ratchet asks.

• "We ran into Skywarp. Prowl said the Cons were patrolling out there, but we had it timed to miss them. Guess they changed their routine," Bluestreak says, hand reaching to grab you and move you to the top of the berth so he can sit on the side. "It's not really that bad." Somehow the more he insists he's fine, the more you're sure he isn't. That he'd always play it off no matter how badly he was hurt in favor of worrying about others. "I mean, it's barely a scratch," he adds, wincing when Ratchet examines his shoulder. You have no idea who Skywarp is, but you can guess that he's not friendly. One of the Decepticons. For being so talkative and distractible, Bluestreak seems to make an effort to not talk about whatever's going on except in frustratingly broad strokes. You know the Autobots are at war. That the Decepticons are their enemies and that both are here on your world. That they're likely all that's left of their species and yet they still can't stop fighting. The why they're fighting to begin with, though? You haven't figured that out. Climbing up onto his chassis when Ratchet makes him lay back, you ignore the look the medic shoots you and sit with your legs against the mesh of his neck. Watching him tuck his chin to be able to see you and smiling for you. Not scared like the last time you were both here, not as lost.

• Ratchet's digging around under his plating to repair the damaged lines and it hurts, but he keeps his attention on you. The warmth of you distracting him from Ratchet's servos. "You're not allowed to get hurt," you tell him, and he smiles despite himself at how serious you sound. "You're just going to have to be more careful." Ratchet snorts softly as Bluestreak reaches up his undamaged hand to slide a servo against your cheek. Realizing you really are serious. Worried for him. Spark warming as you catch his servo and hold it to you, wrapping your arms around it while you stare up at him. And he doesn't want you to have to worry over him, to feel like you need to protect him when he should be protecting you. Doesn't want to see the shadow of fear in the back of your eyes that he can see now ever again.

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