#drabble that got away from me a bit | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ancha-aus · 7 months ago

Text

RealAgeAU Drabble - Parentalbond Horror

*grinning* I am baaaaaaaack!! @spotaus get over here :D

So. I had the difficult choice on which drabble i wanted to write so For now I settled on this one because I haven't had the chance to write a drabble with Horror's pov since a while and that is a crime.

First Drabble here Prev Drabble here Next Drabble here

As always we go in unbeta'ed and unedited.

*-----------------*

Horror checks the windows again before turning back to the couch and seeing Nightmare just staring at him.

Horror tils his skull "sleep will be easier if you actually lay down...." And he looks pointedly at the couch.

Nightmare gains that stubborn glint in his sockets again as he huffs "I am fine. Not tired at all." he looks at the pile of bags in the corner of the room wishfully.

Horror has to keep his chuckling inside as he answers "Shame then that it is bedtime for young skeletons." And adult skeletons. Horror glances at the other three. All KO on the other couch, all still dressed in their normal clothes and none of them actually finished their meals.

Horror will have to pack up the leftovers. Make sure nothing goes to waste. But he will let them sleep for now and just make them eat a big breakfast. But all three had been running themselves ragged lately. Especially after the last encounter they had had with the Stars.

It meant they have been making more jumps and teleports and not going out as much to collect things to make it easier for them.

Horror walks over to them and puts one of the blankets in this apartment over them, he doesn't bother to try and pull them away from one another. The four of them always had the habit of sleeping in a pile and that habit only got worse once they started searching for Nightmare and reclaimed him.

Horror checks Ngihtmare's plate and smiles "You finished it all today." No wonder he is grumpier and more active than usual.

Nightmare pulls a face and crosses his arms. Horror walks over and nudges him at his shoudler "Sleep time." and he waits.

Nightmare grumbles more as he pushes the blankets and pillows around. Horror just crosses his arms as he waits. Nightmare huffs but lays his skull down on the pillow and glares at him.

Horror knows he is grinning but he is proud to say he doesn't actually snort or laugh at the grumpy face Nightmare is pulling. instead he moves closer slowly, the first week of watching Nightmare flinch at every movement and sound had been horrible, and puts the blanket over him as well.

Nightmare doesnt complain about it. Most likely becuase he just saw Horror do the same for the other three.

Horror nods and sits by him "Time to sleep." it is his turn to keep watch and he plans on taking ti seriously.

Nightmare huffs but just turns his face further into the pillow. Tiny body starting to relax with the simple comforts.

Horror tries to not be obvious as he keeps an eye on Nightmare.

Horror knows of course what is going on and he is trying to not give in. At least one of them should not give into the adopting.

Horror can admit he had been surprised that Dust was the first one to actually soul adopt Nightmare. Especially after only a week. It had been so fast and the transition between the before and after state had been so smoothly that Horror had honestly thought that Dust had done it on purpose and planned.

It would have made sense. Dust had been the one to find the book first and been the one to actually manage to get Nightmare back to them.

Only for it to become obvious that Dust had no idea what he had just done.

Soul adoption is a rather normal thing for monsters to do. Though in most universes they rarely happened as monsters don't tend to abandon children.

But well, Horror's AU had been one with starvation and a lot of fighting. People lost their lives in multiple ways. That meant quite a few orphans.

Soul adoption happened when an adult monster willingly took the role as caretaker for a younger monster who doesn't have a caretaker. There are a few more factors obviously but Horror doesn't know all of them of the top of his skull, especially not now with that hole in it.

What it comes down to? Nightmare is an orphan and has no one he could go to that could take care of them, and all of them know this. Dust found out first and surprisingly his soul was open enough to the idea to accept Nightmare as... well... his.

There are more hurdles in this situation of course. The fact that they Nightmare they knew was an adult, which is what Horror thinks is tripping up Cross. But Dust had been very quick with accepting that Nightmare is now a child and so immediantly treated him as one.

Killer took a bit longer but quickly fell into step as well. Calling Nightmare tiny boss and going from his right-hand-man to his babysitter, Killer's words not Horror's.

Horror is however a bit surprised that Killer also soul adopted Nightmare. In theory it shouldn't have happened as Nightmare at this time already had Dust as his caretaker and so technically didn't need one anymore.

Seems like Killer's soul didn't agree with that.

Horror can't say a lot about it though, seeing as he can feel it happening with himself as well. And he has no doubt that Cross is very close to giving into his own instincts and feelings concerning this as well.

The whole thing with their last interaction with the Stars is a very big give away. Even if Cross felt very embarresed by his own reaction.

At least Nightmare is no truly convinced that they won't harm him and will help him. Horror is happy they managed to get there and with it having only been a month since they took him with them. Horror can say they did a good job.

Nightmare has falled asleep.

Horror move slowly and silently and puts two fingers to the the side of his small belly and feels.

Horror may not have a lot of magic himself but his AU was left him with a very useful skill. Wiht how little food there was available and how little magic there was there came issues. One of the issues was that after a while the magic monsters had wasn't strong enough anymore to digest the food that the mosnters did manage to eat. meaning that even if the monster ate food they would not get any energy or new magic from it.

Meaing that even if they ate they would continue to starve.

Wiht how difficult it had been for Nightmare at first to eat or even remember to eat Horror had worried something simular may have happened. That being in the goop form had caused his own magic to grow too weak to be able to function fully.

But all Horror feels is the soft and quiet purr of NIghtmare's magic working hard to use the offered food to rebuild the babybones' small reserves.

Horror sighs a sigh or relieve and just watches Nightmare for a moment. Nightmare, having noticed the pressure on him, makes an unhappy sound and his socket flutters open to give him a sour look.

Horror chuckles as he whispers "I apologise." Horror is unsure how clear his answer is as Horror himself is purring like a loud law mower at this point.

Nightmare blinks at him, still looking like the tiniest little grumpy skeleton this multiverse has ever known, before closing his sockets again and turning on his side. surprisingly not away from the touch and light hold.

Horror watches the other. It is strange. They are all different yet Nightmare still has them all completely under his control. Yet it is in a completely different way and Ngihtmare now doesn't even seem to realise it.

Horror leans on the couch and watches their tiny charge just sleep. Horror had managed to keep the need to complete an adoption at bay by reminding himself that Nightmare already had a caretaker- well two and a half now, Horror is sure that all Cross still needs to complete the soul adoption is a tiny nudge. Horror thinks that Cross is jsut thinking too much about it and doubting his own instincts and feelings.

But that still leaves Horror, and what he wants to do. He figured that it would be better to at least keep one of them unbiased in this nature, just in case that Nightmare suddenly turns into an adult again. But the longer this went on the less likely it seemed to Horror.

Not to forget. Horror doesn't even think Nightmare wants to be an adult again. Not now that he is a child but doens't have to vigilent every moment of every day.

Does he technically already have caretakers? Yes. Does Horror still want to count himself as one? Yes.

So. He just picks for himself.

Horror moves slowly and quietly as he picks Nightmare up. Nightmare grumbles in his sleep at being moved but calms when his magic recognises Horror.

Horror gets comfortable on the couch and lays Nightmare on his sternum. He can still feel the tiny soul beat and pulse fast even through two shirts.

Horror pulls the blanket back over Nightmare and waits.

It doesn't take long as Horror can feel the slight pull on his magic and energy. Hardly noticable and Horror doubts that if he wasn't so paranoid about his own levels he would have noticed.

It is something tiny monsters do. To help stabalise and sharp their own magic they try to take tiny bits of their parents, or caretakers in this case, to help guide them. It all happens naturally.

Horror just holds the tiny babybones closer and feesl Ngihtmare's soul slowly start to match Horror's own soulbeat and he feels all the calmer.

Now it is pretty much done. Horror will have to probably deal with this decision one day but for now he is happy. Their tiny babybones is comfortable and everyone is resting. Tomorrow they will have to worry about getting supplies and where they can go and eventually where they will sleep that night.

But right now? Right now he doesn't have to worry about that. and all he ahs to worry about is that their babybones is comfortable and healing.

*-----------------*

First Drabble here Prev Drabble here Next Drabble here

#utmv #RealAgeAU #nightmare sans #deaged nightmare #horrortale sans #horror sans #bad sanses #gang as family #drabble #okay that are the notes :D #I love the different energy i gave horror :D #the others accidentally adopted Nightmare. Horror however knew damn well what he was doing and wanted in.#also cross is like. a tiny tiny nudge away from adopting nightmare as well #but he is stubborn so Cross managed to keep his instincts from doing the thing the longest #but yeah!! a bit more world building and lore in there :3 #Love me some lore :D #I Got so many ideas for drabbles you all #I do worry what will happen once i run out of ideas because i am going through them at a FAST PACE #it is like i am speed running fic writing #but yeah that is it :D for now :3 #I will also be uploading a poll soonish with different ideas for new drabbles. give you a sneakpeak #and see what you guys are more excited about #ALSO ALSO #be proud. a bit of a shorted drabble again :D #I need to chill with the length of these things #okay that was it for now. Time to fix some links #Will I ever make the links all look the same?#no. I won't.#but they will work and go to the right place!

73 notes · View notes

asha-mage · 1 year ago

Note

mat/tuon prompt: dice

For his thirty fourth birthday Mat received two gifts from his wife.

The first he woke up to find on his sitting room table, in an ornately carved and gilded box of black oak. There was no note or message attached to it, and Mat knew that if he questioned the servants none would admit to any knowledge of how it had gotten into his room.

They might even be telling the truth. He thought most of the da’covale in his entourage were more in his camp then Tuon’s these days, and she had plenty of other means of circumventing his security without raising an alarm. But it was hard to say for sure. Mat had a remarkable ability to win people over, but the Empress was the Empress, and with the Seanchan-born that could matter more than all the good feeling and personal loyalty in the world.

Still the how didn’t really matter that much. Neither did the lack of anything to identify the sender. Mat knew it was Tuon. No one else in the Empire would be sending him gifts on his birthday. In Seanchan, namedays were celebrated on the date you had been given your current name, not the date you had been born, and it was months yet until the anniversary of the day Tuon had officially recognized him as Emperor Consort and bequeathed him the name of Inarian.

There would be a grand feast on that day, both to celebrate him making it through another year with his head still attached to his shoulders, and to commemorate the Battle of Malheian, which had brought the entire peninsula of Dohmar, and more importantly the capital, back under the Empress’s control. That was when Tuon had finally raised him from Prince of the Ravens to Emperor Consort, and he had shed the name Knotai for Inarian. It would be a grand spectacle, that feast, full of parades and presentations and balls. He would have to endure an endless stream of nobles vying for his favor by presenting him lavish and exotic gifts from across the Empire, and give several speeches written out ahead of time by his so'jhin. It was something Mat dreaded every year, and that despite his best efforts, he never quite managed to escape. Tuon played the game too well for that.

Case in point: the box.

Mat considered retrieving his ashandarei, but in the end settled for simply using one of the gilded fireplace pokers to remove the lid from the box. He had to shove it into the crevice and jimmy a bit to get the lid to pop off, but when he did, his caution proved completely justified.

There was a flash of black, something streaking through the air faster than Mat would have been able to escape had he been standing closer. But with Mat standing a good distance back, the serpent could only snap at the air in confusion, its fangs failing to sink into anything as it fell, half its body slapping onto the table, the other half still curled inside the box.

Mat didn’t hesitate- he struck with the blunt hook of the poker slamming it against the serpent’s triangle shaped head and crushing it against the tabletop with a single sickening crunch. Blood sprayed over the silken table cloth, staining the dark green with crimson. Then just to be sure it was dead, Mat gave it three more wacks. He didn’t think Tuon could find a special unkillable snake, but better safe than sorry.

When it became clear the snake would not be moving absent of its brain Mat hooked its body onto the edge of his poker and lifted it to the light to examine it better. He gave a start when he realized the snake was covered in shiny black scales with a lean, somewhat short body.

“A Blacklance.” He whispered and was unable to stop himself from smiling. One of the most poisonous snakes he knew of, with venom that could kill in heartbeats.

What a thoughtful wife he had.

Letting the poker drop Mat moved to strike the brass gong on his bedside table, which summoned the servants back from where he had sent them into the hall to wait. They spilled into the room in a flurry of confusion and noise that only grew as they saw the body of the serpent sprawled on the table.

They, of course, were horrified and shocked at the presence of the snake, though none of them recognized it for what it was as near as Mat could tell. Much was made over his wellbeing and Mat had to quash several attempts to call for the palace physician, the Seekers for Truth, and even Selucia.

Names where floated in the panic of who might be responsible. By his secretary, by the cupbearer, even by his da'covale: their suspects ranged from High Lords that Mat had recently offended or snubbed, to enemy warlords in the still fractured north and south who wanted to prevent the Empire’s reconsolidation, to the Amyrlin Seat, whose title was spoken with the horror Mat was more used to hearing in the voice of those talking of the Dark One.

Adric, Mat’s so’jihin, said nothing on the matter, instead simply directing the work of having the snake removed, along with the tablecloth and the box, then set about ordering da'covale back to their various tasks, including seeing Mat dressed and combed. He knew the score, and knew there was no sense in dwelling on what could not be changed.

The four Deathwatch Guards who had been given to him by Tuon were equally silent. Mat had no doubts where their loyalties ultimately lay, and they knew Tuon too well to take this for anything else but what it was. Then there was Laier. The slender fifteen year old boy who was supposedly Mat’s sulshima also had no expression. Officially Laier’s duty was tending to Mat’s weapons, armor, and other needful things while on campaign, when a horde of servants were not convenient to keep around, and staying close to see to any odd jobs Mat might have while at court. But Laier had been born and trained in secret as a Shadow, the same as Selucia, raised to be the second to last line of defense for Mat’s life. Mat had seen him kill without remorse or hesitation at only twelve years old, the same age he had been given to Mat, crushing the throat of the assassin who had been sent specifically to test his skills as a bodyguard. Laier’s loyalty was exclusively to Mat, no matter how little Mat wanted it, and Laier also knew very well where the box had come from.

Most of the scars Laier bore were not the work of Tuon’s various attempts to kill him. But some were. One was too many in Mat’s book, but he had given up that fight for a bad job. He had yelled and bargained and begged, but it had not made a dent, on the boy or on Tuon. Both had been bewildered by his objections, had seen nothing wrong in the arrangement. Mat was a member of the Imperial Family. He needed a Shadow. That was that. If anything, Tuon had seemed worried he would be upset over not having been given one sooner.

One should have been part of your wedding gift by rights. She had told him when he had been presented the twelve year old on their anniversary. But most of the unassigned Shadows were killed during the start of the Anarchy, so one had to be trained from scratch. Shadows, Mat had learned, where born into it, but began their training at three years old. They were usually assigned between the ages of twelve and fifteen. Mat hadn’t dared ask what happened to ones who weren't assigned by that time. Their was nothing else in the boy's life but protecting Mat, the same as it had been with Selucia and Tuon. In the end, Mat hadn't been able to deny him his only purpose. Instead he had promised himself that he would do what he could for the boy, and learn to live the rest. That was why Mat had sent him out of the room with the others even though he wasn't supposed to. The bloody child would have probably insisted on opening the box with his own two hands, and then where would they be?

For the moment, Laeir stood to the side, waiting patiently while the servants worked. Mat for his part kept his own silence, letting the da'covale chatter while they dressed him, not revealing any of his own thoughts on the matter. Let the palace think what it wished. No one would dare name Tuon as the culprit of the latest assassination attempt, though most would at least entertain the possibility. It made no difference in the end.

By the time his coat was fixed in place and his hat was finally handed to him, Mat was more than ready for breakfast. Adric went ahead to see to directing the rest of Mat’s entourage, and the Deathwatch Guards spread out in a fan, while Laier raced on to open doors and bow Mat into each new room. On the off chance they encountered commoners on route to the dining garden, Laier could serve as Mat’s Voice and would need to be close at hand to read the finger gestures Mat had been forced to learn.

Not that anyone really expected Mat to use a voice. Even most of the Blood had given up being shocked and appalled that Mat spoke to simple commoners without an intermediary. It was like his refusal to grow out his fingernails or paint them. Another oddity of the foreign born Emperor Consort. Something to gossip about in parlors and salons, but as long as he kept winning battles for the Empire, not something worth holding against him day to day.

Tuon was waiting for Mat in the dining garden, already seated at the small table beneath the open air pavilion. As always the first sight of her caught Mat’s breath in a way he could never explain. Maybe in a way he would never be able to explain. Her dark skin glowed in the morning light, and something about the green and white of her pleated dress- simple as a gown sown with opals and firedrops could be- set off that beauty perfectly.

Selucia stood at her shoulder of course, Deathwatch Guards ringing the pavilion in stoney silence. But Mat ignored them like he always did as he sauntered over to the table and dropped lazily into the chair opposite Tuon.

“Good morning wife!” He said cheerily. “How did you sleep?”

Her full lips twitched, the barest hint of a scowl trying to form before she suppressed it. Mat could have chuckled, but that would have given him away. It irked her that he didn’t bluster and snarl and shake the body of the snake at her. The same way it had once irked Mat when Daise Conger had refused to acknowledge that her chickens had been covered in flour. The worst thing that could happen with a prank was not getting caught and punished, it was the joke not landing.

“I slept well, husband.” She said in that drawling honey voice of hers. “I feel much refreshed from my most recent progression. And you?”

The moment Mat was settled, the da’covale began to lay out their breakfast. Mat barely paid any mind to the the combination of uncooked fish and sweet breads that were spread before them, his eyes were locked to Tuon’s, trying to read the mysteries hidden there.

Mat had not wanted a life milking his father’s cows, a life of boring simplicity in the Two Rivers. He had wished for more. He had wished for excitement and adventure and daring gambles. And Light of Heaven, he had gotten his wish.

“I slept well.” Mat replied, raising his cup. His cupbearer was there in a heartbeat to pour kaf for him. “I dreamed of a forest actually.”

Tuon blinked, raising an eyebrow. “A forest?”

Mat nodded. “A forest in Altara actually. Northern Altara, not far from the Damona Mountains. I think we may have visited it once during our courtship.”

This time, Tuon didn’t catch her smile soon enough to prevent him from seeing it. Even if she had, Mat didn’t doubt she would have caught his hidden meaning.

It was in a forest near the Damona Mountains, where a blacklance had nearly taken the life of one of their party. Mat had let it go, and Tuon had gifted a kiss to ‘the man who allowed a deadly snake to live.’ Their first kiss.

I see you beneath it all Tuon. He thought as he gazed at her. I see the woman you are beneath the duty, and the machinations, and the iron cold mask. I know your sentimental heart. To say that to her would be to court his own death- not a half hearted assaination attempt meant to fail and to keep him sharp. But a real, true death, probably screaming in the Tower of Ravens. But he found ways to tell her without words anyways. He had to. There was too much love in him for him to keep it all sealed up- like water, it demanded some path to rush along.

“We might have.” Tuon said noncommittally as her plate was layered high with fish. “I can’t recall.”

Mat shrugged and was about to start in on the food when Tuon spoke again.

“Oh, I almost forgot. I have a gift for you, husband.” Mat turned back to her, raising his eyebrow. She simply gestured and Selucia glided forward, producing something from her sleeve.

He was suddenly on guard, and his tension was obvious because he saw Laier tense also, out of the corner of his eye. In a one on one fight, Mat would bet on Laier against Selucia- he was younger, faster, and Selucia was on the older end for a Shadow already. But if Tuon was going to try and kill him here and now there was no way the Deathwatch Guard wouldn’t get involved, and in that melee all Laier could do was die. But surely not- this wasn't Tuon’s way. She wouldn’t try again at his life so soon after the snake. Unless-

His thoughts cut off as Selucia laid something down beside him on the table. It was a small leather cup, tooled with roses. Mat’s jaw dropped when he realized what it was and he glanced at Tuon again to find her smirking openly, thrilling in having thrown him off guard.

Hesitantly, Mat reached out and picked up the leather cup, popping off the lid. Sure enough, as he tipped it over, six glittering black dice, shining like glass but clinking like metal, rolled onto the table. Each pip was a moon in a different phase, carefully and stylistically set into the metal surface.

By purest chance each of the die had landed to show a single new moon. Only one pip. The Dark One’s eyes. The best toss, or the worst, depending on the game.

“Happy birthday, husband.” Tuon said, and for just a moment, he heard genuine warmth slip into her voice. He would never know if it was a mistake in a moment of weakness, or an intentional attempt to manipulate him, or just her letting herself be vulnerable for a special occasion. That, Mat reflected, was half the fun. “Do you like it?”

Mat laid his hand over the dice and grinned at her. “I love it, wife. Shall we play a round after breakfast?”

She raised a single eyebrow at him. Her imperious mask was firmly back in place now, no hint of humanity or weakness to be shown. “And what shall be the stakes, husband? What could we wager of meaning between us? Coin? Jewels? Kingdoms?”

“The highest stakes of all.” Mat said, picking up the dice and shaking them in his palm. “A single kiss to the winner of each round.”

She didn’t react except to sniff at him, but Mat didn’t mind. He knew this game. He had chosen it. And there truly was nothing else like it in all the world. That was more than enough for him.

He opened his hand, and rolled the dice.

54 notes · View notes

contaiinedarmageddon2 · 1 year ago

Note

❌ Sollux accidentally revealing his hyper cock to one of the girl trolls. Preferably one of the less common pairings.

NSFWish below cut

"fuckin Pyrope bitches keeping a gill up all coddamn morning fucking glubbin. I mean. glubbin fucking? I hate this." Meenah trudged through the dreamscape path, a mishmash of who know's memories, muttering to herself angrily, trident across her shoulders. She liked Latula, after a fashion, she was r4d as hell it would be stupid to deny it. She didn't mind Mituna either, in the way one didn't mind a harmless lost lusus at least. But the two had been getting on her last nerve. For whatever reason, perhaps a shift in the bubbles, the two's little secret rendezvous spot for their flushed trysts, and they were fucking loud. Mituna didn't have volume control at the best of times but whatever that yellow weirdo was doing was making Latula compete with him in decibels. To say nothing of the noises. It made Meenah shudder. She had tried to casually, politely( something she was totally capable of doing) let Latula know that perhaps she should move somewhere else with whatever she was doing, but the finsufferable bitch seemed to take it as an invitation for her to brag about Mituna's supposed "prowess". Meenah left in a hurry, but the details she couldn't block out were swimming around her head rent free.

Maybe that was why when she spotted an unfamiliar pair of bicolored spectacles, she stopped to watch awhile instead of just ignoring one of the random losers getting the benefit of all her hard work in the alpha session. Just what was he up to in that clearing? By the flash of red skirts moving the other direction he must've been meeting with Porrim's little protege but why out here? Grumbling to herself about how stupid this was she pushed forward toward him, a half baked idea about interrogating him about Captors and their own timeline's Pyrope coming to mind.

"Hey! Shorty! Yeah you double dutch, don't you take off!" She yelled out as she emerged from the bushes, 2x3dent swinging off her shoulders.

"oh 2hiit you're that angry ver2iion of ff aren't you." The mustard said, already starting to backpedal.

"Who the fuck you callin' angry? Your lil goody-gills is a version of ME." Meenah declared with utmost calm and a grip on her strifekind that grew white knuckled as her instincts kicked in at the mention of a competitor heiress.

It had been a long time since she'd seen proper psionics from anyone but Damara, and she avoided that crazy witch anyways. The other Captor started flickering alight with blue-red light though, feet starting to pick off the ground as he must've planned to flee her gracious welcome. However, nobody was faster than the REAL Peixes. The prongs of her trident flashed out and down as she moved to pin him between the tines to the ground and prevent an escape. But it seems she misjudged how much power output the shrimp had, and her downward stab didn't quite hit on target. One of the razor edged tips caught the waistband of his pants perfectly and seemed to glide right through the fabric. There was a brief sparking noise, and then things got very dark and very heavy.

In an instant Meenah found herself pinned to the ground, something oddly soft yet so weighty even her vaunted seadweller strength was having trouble shifting the burden off her body, and her legs felt as though they were pinned under some ultra dense beanbag. With a final heave and a lot of swearing she managed to wrestle the warm pillar holding her down off to the side. Pupil-less eyes went wide. A veritable column of turgid gray lay atop her, thicker around than her torso and extending off past her head. Her eyes traced it to the base where a set of tremendous orbs had her legs buried. It was only at that point she felt the sheer heat coming off it, the very air felt thick, she wanted to gasp, not out of having the wind knocked out of her but take in more of the strange tasting aura. Without even realizing it her arms had locked around what amount of the spongy surface they could encompass, less than half of it, now holding it against her very sensitive feeling body rather than it pinning her. And this veritable monument to virility terminated in the disoriented, slowly stirring form of that Captor.

She was going to fucking kill Latula for hiding this. Right after she got done showing this guppy why she was the reel Empress apparent. In a few hours.

#drabble #got away from me a bit

7 notes · View notes

phiixomath · 2 years ago

Text

🎉🦄

Keith clutched the present bag to his chest. He wiped a sweaty palm on his lap and shifted — unfortunately unable to get very comfortable in the car when it was full of five other people — as a knot twisted in his stomach. The bright blue gift wrap was quite distracting, though, and he glanced down at it, worrying at his bottom lip and smoothing down his suit jacket.

Lance had insisted his ten-year-old niece would love anything since she frequently jumped from interest to interest, but Keith really wanted to get her something special. Something she’d cherish. He wracked his brain for days then, miraculously, managed to overhear from Lance's mother that she had recently gotten into art and was saving up to buy paintbrushes.

Now, this Keith knew.

He’d been painting for years, had gone through the painstaking, bank-breaking process of graduating from whatever he could scrounge to, eventually, professional-grade materials. Lance’s niece was young so he didn’t want to overwhelm her, but he went ahead and purchased a nice assortment of painting tools and wrote a small guide on his best tips to getting started to go with it.

He’d felt confident, but as they neared Lance’s house he couldn’t help the nagging doubt that he’d bought something left something out or it just wasn’t what she would want any more.

He took a deep breath and settled back against the seat as much as he could. Hunk sat next to him and smiled reassuringly, bringing his arm around the headrest so Keith could lean back fully. Keith returned the smile and took another grounding breath.

Just then — the clip-clop of hooves against the asphalt.

What?

Everyone in the car sat up, leaned, or manoeuvred in some way to look out the window, see Lance absolutely speed past them on a pristine white horse clad in a long cape and unicorn horn.

“Huh — Lance?” Hunk called, the first to gain the ability to speak while Keith was sure his jaw was grazing his lap. Shiro slowed the car and Hunk called out again. “Lance!”

Through the rear view mirror, Keith saw Lance's form come to a stop. He was more quite far, but Keith could make out the horse’s hind legs raise before lowering and swiftly turning to make their way over to the car. The clip-clopping grew closer until Lance was just a few feet away and dismounted. He walking up to their car with an easy smile.

“Hey, guys!” Lance stuck his head through Keith's window and Keith immediately flattened against his seat, heart beating embarrassingly fast. “Hey, Keith.”

“Hey.”

“Looking good, man.” What. Oh, right, he was wearing a suit. (Lance’s niece wanted to host a themed party and went for fairy tales, which made the unicorn horn make sense. Albeit interesting and creative, the theme left him stumped but he ultimately settled on a typical suit and hoped it would pass as a prince or something).

“Thanks,” Keith replied, feeling his face heat. Lance grinned.

“What are you doing out here?” Pidge asked, but not before casting Keith a knowing look. Keith ignored it in favour of hearing Lance explain.

“There was a mix-up with the bakery, so I’m just gonna go pick something else up real quick.”

“With…”

Lance tilted his head in confusion then brightened. “Oh! This is Macy!” He tugged gently on the horse’s reins until her face appeared alongside his outside the window. She whinnied, shaking her mane, and Keith startled when the rough hairs struck his nose. Lance laughed, sudden and loud, and carded a hand through her mane as he sent Keith a sympathetic grimace.

“Sorry." Keith gave him a look but the edge of his mouth still quirked up. "Really, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Keith said, unable to hold back a smile when he reached out to stroke Macy’s muzzle. She leaned into him and Lance softened.

“Aw, she’s happy to see you," He cooed.

Keith feigned a scowl at the change in his voice and Lance feigned a pout. He broke character and chuckled, when his eye caught on the bag in Keith’s hands.

“Is that —"

“— Uh.”

“Oh my God, Keith! That’s — that’s amazing! Holy shit." He gasped, eyes searching what contents of the bag he could. "This is exactly the type of stuff she’s looking for!”

Keith breathed a sigh, half at the lost surprise and half in relief. “I’m glad. I really hope she’ll like it.”

“She’ll love it, are you joking?” Lance pulled on Macy’s reins again as he backed up from the car. “When we open presents before cake, you’ll see. She’s gonna love you.” He punctuated each word and held Keith's eye before turning to smile at everyone. “I’ll see you guys at the party!” Everyone voiced a similar sentiment and he smiled.

Keith turned his face as far as he could out the window, half to see Lance easily pull himself up on Macy and half to hide his smile from the others.

#this SERIOUSLY got away from me but i had so much fun #thank you for the hilarious prompt image brynn @howlsmovingass on twt #i wrote this in a bit of a rush but i'm really happy i was able to ngl #anyways ty for reading! reblogs are appreciated sm :)#klance #vld #voltron #voltron fic #fixxfics #drabbles from twitter #lance mcclain #keith kogane

16 notes · View notes

baronetcoins · 1 year ago

Note

what does the spotify oracle tell us about 28 or 76?

[send me a number 1-100 and i will try to write a short drabble based off whatever song that corresponds to in my spotify wrapped]

76: Jubilee Line by Wilbur Soot

I hate to see you leaving Fate worse than dying Your city gave me asthma So that's why I'm fucking leaving

The treaty ink was well and properly dried, carefully folded away in the archives of state. Montjoy had carried it there himself—the last man trusted by both sides. He pulled his tabbard off and folded it neatly on his bed. He'd leave it behind to give his successor something to wear until they could find their own. His fingers traced the embroidered lilies. Would the man that followed him quarter them with the lions?

"Are you going somewhere?" Henry spoke from the door of the room.

"Your majesty." He inclined his head, but did not turn around. Henry stalked forward.

"You've tendered your resignation."

"Yes." Their bodies were close together—his was a small room, and Henry had a way of making himself known. Unbidden his mind summoned an image of how he'd been standing with the princess—her hand in his, their lips almost touching. He stiffened.

"What will you do? Montjoy, King-of-Arms, turned what?" Henry's voice was carefully measured, his hand hovering somewhere near Montjoy's.

"Buy a farm, maybe. Become one of those vintners we have been missing for so long."

"Montjoy—"

"Please." When Henry reached for his hand, he caught it. "I've served the crown for most of my life. Perhaps most of yours. I cannot bear to watch."

"I have no malice against your throne."

"Not that. You. I don't think I could bear to watch your life from away. I thought I would see you die on that field." He squeezed Henry's hand. "I thought that would be the end of it, and I would have nothing but the story of a good king. I'm tired."

"You wouldn't have to be away. I could find a home for you in my court."

He shook his head faintly. "I can't."

"Then offer me this before you go?" Henry reached for his chin, standing up on his toes. He kissed Montjoy once, pressing their foreheads together, and then letting him step past. Montjoy picked up his borrowed hood and slid it over his head.

"Thanks to your majesty." He turned as he grabbed his pack from the door.

"Go in peace, gentle herald."

#ask the baronet #my writing #spotify wrapped ask game #henry v 1989 #it's been too long I think readers of my writing should live in fear of my angst again #hit me with more of these! it's fun!#... perhaps a bit more than a drabble. this one got away from me. and may even make it to ao3 later

4 notes · View notes

nicawlette · 2 years ago

Text

SPOTS TO KISS.

@nobully asked: spots to kiss + *insert number here LOL*

7. a kiss on the eyelid or the undereye. 35. a kiss on the space between shoulder blades. oh i inserted some numbers alright. my city now, bitch

The call of the waking world reaches Nicolette much slower than it usually did, especially in more recent times. As of late, it's been a miracle to fall asleep at all— when she does, it's no more than a few hours of fitful tossing and nightmares. Her body aches and her mind is plagued by too much stress to turn off. When she wakes, it's with a start, the tail end of a scream or cry for help on the tip of her tongue that comes out as broken wheezes.

Somehow, it has left her feeling more exhausted than if she'd simply skipped it altogether.

That morning, however, Nicolette stirs in steady increments. Her body begins to rouse before her brain does, all ten fingers and toes coming to life as they tense, wiggle and then relax. The blanket grazes against her bare calves where the legs of the loose sweatpants she'd borrowed had bunched up at her knees during the night. A leg bends, hitching higher until a foot brushing an ankle that isn't her own and her thigh curls around one of Wang Yi's.

She's laying on her right side, plastered up against him as he sleeps on his back. Her left arm is thrown across his waist while his stretches out, supporting her neck. Her right is bent and trapped trapped beneath her chest, growing numb, whereas Wang Yi's rests comfortably at his side. Nicolette's head fits into the curve of his neck, face buried against his shoulder.

Oh, yes, she remembers now— after he'd cared for her all evening and beginning of the night, the exhaustion hit her like a train. Those handful of hours with him had felt like days with how much they'd jampacked into them. She hadn't even had to ask about staying over. Wang Yi had simply offered her a pair of pants and pulled the covers back like it was something they'd done a hundred times before. It didn't feel strange or awkward to crawl into the space beside him, and she hadn't hesitated getting closer.

It wasn't at all like the first time, when he'd fallen asleep at the edge of the bed while reading to her before ultimately leaving the room. It wasn't even like the second time, where he begged her to stay after a fight that had felt much bigger and more important than any other petty argument they'd had. They slept in the same bed, then. Like friends at a sleepover. Side-by-side, with a strange distance despite being close enough their arms could've brushed with the slightest movement.

The distance is gone, now.

Thinking back, she recalls the way he'd been shocked by her clinginess ( but also that he had not rejected it ). Her excuse had been that sleeping on her back hurt too much because of the wounds, and it was easier like this because it took the weight off. It was partially true— she hardly feels them at all right now, as long as she remains still. Wang Yi had not put up a fight about it. Did not demand room to breathe or complain about being uncomfortable. In fact, he almost held her closer, and seemed more amused by her excuses then anything else.

The last thing Nicolette remembers is the feeling of his fingers brushing hair from her face and stroking over the bandages at her shoulder. It was the most peaceful night of sleep she's had since the mist ( maybe even before that ). She feels more rested than she has in ages. It makes her reluctant to let it end, but then Wang Yi begins to stir beneath her snake-like constricting and Nicolette knows there's no use holding on. She makes a noise of complaint anyway and he responds with a questioning sound of his own, clearly not-yet fully awake.

❝ Mn... Yiyi— ❞ She starts, unsure of where her sleep-addled brain plans on going with the forming thought, but it is effectively deleted the moment she turns her head to look at him the same time he cranes his neck to look at her. They meet by way of mouth— or, to be more specific, Wang Yi's lips meet the skin beneath her left eye. They brush towards her cheekbone, trailing along the trademark scars. He lingers even as she blinks at him in surprise, but neither move to pull away. It's a terribly vulnerable place to be touched and it freezes her in place. Her relationship with the marks is a complicated one. They used to make her feel self-conscious, afraid that the only good thing about her had been ruined.

The resentment towards their existence is not gone, but by this point she's left behind most of the insecurities. They merely add to her mysterious allure. People loved to ask questions, and she loved to tell grander and grander lies about how they were received. Still, no one ever touched them. No one was allowed to touch them— Hell, she hardly put her own hands anywhere near unless out of nervous habit. But Wang Yi is doing just that, and she's... letting him, eyes closing without her permission. What started as an accident is now done with intention as his lips move slowly over the marks as if to feel out their shape. He seems intrigued by them, but Nicolette realizes he may still be half asleep when his tongue peeks out to lick over the ridges of a scar and she gasps.

He goes to do it again and it knocks a laugh from her lungs, eyes crinkling at the corners as she dissolves further into amusement and swats at his chest. ❝ What the Hell are you doing?? ❞ She pulls back, both palms pressing into the mattress on either side of his body so she can hover above him. Plum stands pool in rivulets beside his head as she laughs in his face.

That seems to be enough to fully knock the sense back into his brain and eradicate the last vestiges of sleep. He doesn't appear apologetic, though. Instead he considers it, then replies, ❝ I was curious what they felt like. ❞ As if that made total sense. The same curiosity as when he'd expressed interest in tasting her blood. It makes her giggle harder and she shoves her hand against his cheek, breathing ❛ you're so fucking weird ❜ like it's the greatest compliment one could give.

She moves to sit up fully, turning her back towards him before Nicolette feels the bed dip as he gets up too. Her hair spills over her shoulders, the muscles of her back shifting as she arches and lifts both arms above her head to stretch. It's not the smartest idea, considering her injuries are still healing, and she hisses through her teeth as the position tugs painfully at a few fresh stitches. Still, Nicolette finds herself smiling, because she can feel Wang Yi's eyes on her. She snorts, rubbing at her cheeks as they begin to warm under the attention.

❝ I swear you're doing that on purpose, ❞ he mutters, but the complaint hardly holds up when he reaches out to drag a hand down the bandages he'd wrapped himself. As he strokes further down, the pressure shifting from gentle and tender to firm and purposeful. It delivers the desired effect, encouraging both soft sighs and hitches of breath followed by quiet, wounded noises.

Nicolette shivers. ❝ That's a bold accusation, ❞ she teases, ❝ I'm innocent— scout's honor. ❞ Wang Yi scoffs from behind and her smile grows wider. She doesn't have to look to know his expression is one exasperation when he mutters ❛ Innocent? Since when? Do you even know what that word means? ❜ Oh, her cheeks hurt from grinning. She's grateful he cannot see it, but he can probably hear it in her voice, anyway. ❝ Oh yeah? Correct me if my memory is failing, but you didn't seem too bothered by it last night. ❞

That gets him, but he hardly seems to shy away from the callout as he once would've. There's no reason to— they aren't supposed to hide things, after all. ❝ That was last night, ❞ he insists, ❝ and as much as I might want to mess you up, I just put you back together. Don't go doing anything stupid like busting open your stitches so soon. ❞ Contrary to his words, his fingers press into her tender flesh as they slide to the curve of her waist, causing her to gasp ❛ Hypocrite! ❜ without any actual heat. The pressure is gone just as quickly. ❝ I should probably leave soon, anyway. ❞ He sighs, and Nicolette doesn't miss the quiet mutter under his breath ❛ shouldn't put this off ❜.

❝ No fair. ❞ She complains, but it's only for the sake of being selfish. Nicolette vaguely remembers him mentioning visiting other people, and she supposes it makes sense, considering the state the mist had left her in. It doesn't make her any less disappointed about having to go back to the cold solitude of her apartment. But she's not about to start acting like a jealous girlfriend just because she's lonely. She has no right to, and it'll only freak him out. Still... ❝ Hey, Wang Yi... ❞ Nicolette murmurs, sounding more hesitant than intended. ❝ If I... need help again, could I— I mean, I can do it on my own, obviously, but— ❞

Noticing her clear struggle, the way her shoulders hunch up to her ears, Wang Yi shuts her up as effectively as his instincts encourage. He leans forward, pressing his lips between her shoulder blades, feeling the way she relaxes almost immediately. The longer they remain, the more the tension melts away. It's nothing like kissing her bare skin, but the heat is transferred between them anyway, through the layer of bandages. ❝ Nicolette, ❞ he starts, and she can feel his lips form around the syllables of her name, ❝ bandages shouldn't be left on for too long without being replaced. Especially if they get dirty. When it's time to change them again, let me know. I'll do it for you. ❞ And that's it. That's all it takes for him to save her from herself. Screw whatever shortcomings or struggle she has with asking for help— she doesn't need to ask, then.

Heat pools in her stomach and on her face— colors from cheeks to ears. There's warmth blooming in her chest and fluttering in her guts. It feels nice, to be cared for like that. To not have to beg for it. ❝ Mmn... okay. I'll hold you to that— it's too much of a hassle to do by myself, anyway. ❞ It's the closest she can get to admitting how good it felt to be tended to by his hands. To be touched and desired despite her broken state, allowing respite from the events that gave her the wounds in the first place. It's the best she can do to express how comforting it was to share a bed with another body— his body.

It's the only way she knows how to convey the trust she's placed in him, until the opportunity presents itself to word it better, later. Later, when more of this makes sense. For now, it's enough.

❝ Well, if you're kicking me out, you better give me a jacket to put on— I'm not leaving your condo with my tits out, bandages or not. ❞ From over her shoulder she offers him a smile and adds, ❝ I want breakfast, too. You won't force me to leave hungry when I'm in recovery, will you, Yiyi? ❞

#nobully #WOW. ALRIGHT. WELL.#I GOT A BIT CARRIED AWAY MAYBE #but I needed a break from the PAIN #i definitely made up the post-canon of their thread but it doesn't have to all be exact #ALSO ONCE AGAIN PRAYING WANG YI ISN'T OOC. ESP BECAUSE IT'S SOFT #anyway i care the so much #injury cw #⊰ 🩸 // ASKS » when she talks she talks like she can handle it. ⊱#⊰ 🩸 // QUEUE ⊱#⊰ NOBULLY » come get that honey sweeter than i ever knew / love me till my lips turn blue. ⊱#⊰ 🩸 // DRABBLE. ⊱

2 notes · View notes

oceanxveiined · 2 years ago

Text

“–then we just need to carefully turn the dial here to expose the Pyro and Electro components to each other, and…!”

Danae grimaced as the soft clicks registered, shaking out the slight tremor in her free hand.

The last time she’d tried this, the whole thing had blown up in her face and caused a nasty slew of injuries she’d nearly been permanently blinded by. Which had only been avoided by a prompt trip to Durene, who upon healing her had elected to make Danae’s life utterly miserable for the next hour with the ensuing lecture. And considering she couldn’t even speak, that had been a feat in and of itself. She would have almost preferred getting verbal nagged than dealing with the extra impact Durene’s facial expression gave her signing.

Almost.

Now, one would think wanting to avoid such a thing would discourage Danae from trying again. If not wanting to avoid the scolding, then in not wanting to face agony and risk permanent injury should the healer not get to her soon enough this time. Most anyone would. But anyone who knew her well would also damn well know she only only ever took such things as a challenge rather than anything cautionary.

She feared no monster nor god, so why should Durene be any different?

That said, if she did happen to keep the device at a safer distance away from her face this go around, it was purely out of practicality.

Still…hubris aside, having to go back to Durene for help if the reaction repeated ( especially if it resulted worse, considering the changes she'd made since then ), more so after specifically being told not to ever try this again still added a lot more pressure now. Especially since the woman would surely be so damn glad for the opportunity to gloat about how right she was. And having bear Durene’s all-too expressive face and stupid little name sign once she saw the thermal and electrical burns again would definitely make the matter all the more humiliating, too–

“Oh…!”

Danae’s eyes flashed open as an odd sensation suddenly thrummed ( Odd, odd, was it painful? No, that wasn’t it- ) through her body, concentrated at her hand where she held the device. Thrummed along her frayed nerves and burrowed deep into her sore muscles.

Her lips parted in surprise as she swayed in place, brain trying to place just what it was she was percieving. Hand trembling in the wake of and direct contact to such a sensation, her grip on the device slackened a slight, even while the other tried to steady it. “Wh-what'n th–?”

Luckily, a deft pair of hands managed to cup it beneath hers, preventing it from falling to the floor and shatter. Even while her hands had instinctively gripped the thing tighter–

“Morcant?”

The name and the growing uncomfortable buzz under Danae’s skin where they touched had her fully snapping out of her haze, jerking back and holding her device closer to her chest. Perhaps a bad idea, considering how volatile the last one had been and the particular composition of this one, but– “M'fine.”

Da-Lun raised a brow but raised his hands placatingly and backed away all the same. “I thought it yet another adverse reaction. Though different from the last, I didn’t want it to break, so–”

“Well, you thought wrong,” she hissed, fingers moving the scratch at the still-tingling skin. “Wait for the damn thing to leave my hand before makin’ a grab for it. Got it? Or need I drill it into yer fucking skull?”

The man huffed out a breath, but nodded curtly. “Understood.”

“Good.” Even decently satisfied with his response, Danae still couldn’t help pressing her nails into the ebbing tingling on her skin to ease it. Though…huh, usually that feeling took longer to go away–

“So what was it then?”

Danae turned to glance over at Ozzy, the man idly tapping his pen against the parchment as he tilted his head. Wait, not idly.

You look like an idiot, the pattern read, when he'd repeated it. Calm down.

"Tch." Biting back an otherwise snarled retort, Danae rolled her eyes. And realized she’d been slumping against the work bench, straightening up immediately with a sharp jerk. Fuck, when had she lowered her guard like that–? “It–works.”

“I know it does, sweetheart,” Ozzy remarked, an insufferable, amused grin at his lips. He gestured a slight with the pen. “I could see the tension leave your body an' you gasping instead a' howling in agony or gettin’ crispied like I was hopin’–"

”We made a bet on its success,“ Da-Lun explained, ”I, in your favor, of course," as if that made it any better–

”–so clearly it must work as intended. Or at least, to your insatiable standards.” Ozzy snickered, rather amused in spite ( or perhaps because ) of her glare as he added, “I was curious as t'just how much so had it. Since it got you of all people to relax like that.”

Danae glanced down at the device–fuck, she was slumping again, curled around it too, what the hell–

“It doesn’t…!” She hesitated.

“Tell us honestly, now, sweetheart,” Ozzy chided. He offered another stupid grin as he waved the pen. “If not for me, then for your results. You care about those, at least, don’t you?”

Danae pursed her lips.

…ah, she couldn't argue with that. Or him, as much as she'd want to. She had to ensure the necessary observations were recorded, after all. Embarrassing as her reaction was though–

“It doesn’t make the pain go away completely,” she admitted, sighing as her favorite sound of scratches of quilltip on parchment began to fill the air. The sounds added to the otherwise quiet of the room, the hum of the device, the dimmer lights save the lamp at her bench behind her...oh, that was nice. So nice; she almost felt tempted to lean back and close her eyes to indulge in it all. Almost–

“I can still feel it," she continued, drumming her tingling fingers on the iron casing. "S'no magic cure-all or anything, it’s just…compared to how I usually feel, it’s…it’s…” Dammit, how did she explain this- “It–I feel lighter? Nicer??? Like it...it–”

“Makes the flare ups tolerable?” Da-Lun supplied gently.

She narrowed her eyes a slight.

No mocking. No teasing. Simply aiding her to find the right words. Huh...

“Yeah...that.” She carefully moved to press the device against her hip, sliding it further along her bad leg. And promptly let out a soft sigh as she gingerly stretched the limb out. “Note, closer contact to the more sensitive areas provides a far more effective use of the…th'–” Fuck, wait, why’d she say that? That gave too much away, too much that was highly exploitable, if the odd look on Da-Lun's face was any indication–

“Maiden’s Solace?” Ozzy offered, pausing to look up.

Danae’s mouth opened and closed, once, twice, before her lips pressed into a fine line.

He didn't go for mocking, either. Nor seem to have any apparent intents to take advantage of said fact, if his lack of reaction was any tell. Which was odd, because she would have figured he would keep more of an ear out for such things than Da-Lun. No, the only real problem she had with Ozzy piping up with his little suggestion now was–

“M'not a maiden,” she remarked, wrinkling her nose. Even if, sure, it was made for one in mind, but she was the one who made it, so– “Brigand’s Solace?”

Ozzy scoffed, chuckling as he pointed the pen accusingly. “Now you just stole my idea and made it sound more cool than it is, Morc.”

“Oh, come up with a better one then! I dare you–”

"Bettin' on what that I CAN, then–"

“Everflame Lenity?” Da-Lun interjected, before their bickering could escalate. He nodded his head at the device. “Considering the Pyro component.”

Stilling, Danae and Ozzy exchanged a glance.

“That works well enough,” Danae decided, shrugging as Ozzy gave a noncommittal hum ( ’I like the contradiction,’ he might have muttered, she didn’t care to make sure right now ). “For this version, anyways. I might want to change the Pyro source further down the line.”

“Already thinking of advances for it,” Da-Lun noted, with what sounded suspiciously like an amused laugh. “You really never change.”

“Well, I can’t afford to just settle after a victory,” she told him, rather matter-of-factly. “‘specially not when I’ve finally gotten a real breakthrough with SOMETHING now.”

“Cuz yer a shit inventor, sweetheart–”

“Oz,” Da-Lun warned.

Danae rolled her eyes, rather than dignify it with a response of her own. Though the fact that the–yeah, okay–Everflame Lenity helped keep her usually simmering temper at bay may have also contributed something. Sue her, she felt nice and relaxed right now, thank you very much. And ruining it to bite the bait Ozzy set out just wasn't worth the effort.

But like hell would she explain THAT to them.

Still…okay, yeah, this thing was definitely an immense help when the relief was closer to the worst of the pain. Especially pressed directly against her skin. It was enough to help bear with more than simply physical ailments, with the steady thrum soothing her usually hair-thin nerves enough to keep her calmer than she'd felt in a long time.

Did that perhaps have an effect on why it felt so pleasant overall, too?

Shit, were it any closer to her center, the ease it had in spreading the feeling to the rest of her body would definitely be inconvenient. It left her feeling too lax as it was; not focused enough nor willing to keep moving, like she ought to be. It made her want to take it easy, let her body rest. Left her feeling vulnerable, much too vulnerable-

“What is it then? Th'Everflame seed’s really not good enough for you?” Ozzy asked, back to scribbling down his notes. “Picky, picky~ What’s the issue?”

Yeah, better tell them any of that. They'd never let her live it down-

“Well, it works sufficiently enough,” Danae explained, looking back down at the device. She ran her thumb along the dial slowly turning it back. Hesitating when the sensations dulled to mild discomfort began to swell again. “And it will supply an adequately continuous source of Pyro energy to resonate with the Electro Crystal; thus inducing the energy reaction that triggers the relaxant properties I wanted. That is exactly why I'd chosen it initially.”

“So that’s how that works,” Ozzy muttered, more to himself than her. And being kind enough to mark the inscribed explanation over for ease in locating it at a later time. Which she would normally be worried about, him considered–

“But?” Da-Lun urged.

“But,” she amended, tone firm to ensure Ozzy heard, and heard it well– “The Everflame seed, like its source, can be…unstable.”

Ozzy stopped writing. A flurry of thoughts seemed to cross his mind before he met her gaze, head tilting a slight.

“So…it’s useless for dear Eliza, then?” he asked. Oddly calm, at that, she reckoned, with hardly a trace of his usual jesting. Enough to make even Da-Lun shift uneasily. Which in and of itself should have been a warning. Anyone else who really knew him well enough sure would have.

Still, deliberately ignoring it and the little hint of something in his tone ( bitterness? Yeah, that was probably it– ), Danae shrugged. “Not entirely, I would think. But it’s better than nothing.” She paused then tilted her head, a mocking grin at her lips. “What? Scared to risk yer precious little ward, now? When she could FINALLY get her much-needed relief?”

Ozzy bared his teeth in a laugh. "I just don’t recall clearing her to be one of your little test subjects, love.“

”She just needs to say yes,“ Danae retorted. ”I don’t think Eliza needs your permission to be a part of my little–"

A spark of violet had her voice choking back–Da-Lun had suddenly moved to stand next to her before she could taunt Oz any further. Whether to shut her up or because he had a thought he’d impulsively acted on, she wasn’t quite sure. Probably the former. Especially since he knew how much she hated when he flash-stepped like that–

“May I?” Da-Lun asked. He remained in place even at her glare, though kneeling immediately once she gave him a curt nod. He reached to handle the device–careful not to touch Danae in the process this time, thankfully.

Surprise flickered across his features as his shifted his hold on it–ah, so even Da-Lun was taken aback by the odd sensation it gave off–and looked it over. Once, then a second glance-over, gingerly rolling it over across her leg a slight ( oh, that...felt a little better; making a note to write down the way he'd moved and placed it later- ) to ensure he didn’t touch anything more than the points he was holding it by and where it rested against her.

Danae shook off the slight daze the sensation brought on her, determinedly looking over at Ozzy, who begun to lean forwards. Staring so intently he didn’t notice the ink dripping off the pen tip splattering on his pants–

”Hm..."

”Report," Danae demanded immediately.

“It looks to stable enough so long no truly jarring movements are made,” Da-Lun affirmed, pulling back. “Which unfortunately means Morcant here can’t bring it along in-battle–”

“Oh, the horror,” she drawled, rolling her eyes. “Please, not dealing with agonizing flare ups while on duty. I’ve never experienced that before–”

“–but it should be safe enough for Eliza to use for herself,” Da-Lun patiently finished. ”Since she is usually at rest and in tucked away in bed."

“And surely I’ll just up and let you just test that on her?” Ozzy remarked, raising a brow.

Recall exploitable connection, certainty and magnitude higher than original assumption, Danae's brain chimed in. Factor unpredictability, should be constant enough to use–seek gaining favor, ensuring no repercussions amid self-benefit–

“I can tote it around while here at home base for awhile longer, if you want,” Danae offered. ”Just to be sure." Compromising as it was, but if it meant getting on his good side here-

”Mm, I do like the heightened chances of you getting blown to smithereens,“ Ozzy mused.

Danae snorted. ”Ha–when boars fly maybe–"

”It could do some good in helping Morcant stay in a better mood during its trial run,“ Da-Lun wryly remarked. Gods dammit, there was the mocking she'd been hoping to avoid– “That would save us from plenty frustration. Or…why not try it yourself, Oz? For Eliza’s sake?”

The man blinked then huffed, leaning back as he pointed at the other with the pen.

“I like the pain I feel, thank you very much,” Ozzy drawled. “Makes me feel alive. S'like a badge of honor for all I've been through. What I've survived, an' all that shit–” Excuses-

“And I pride myself in that badge of honor as much as you do,” Danae retorted, rolling her eyes. She carefully rolled the device a bit more over her skin. ”And feeling the relief I do from it right now is just downright weird, I’ll admit.“ She paused a moment to brace herself, then fully pulled the device away from her body in a swift motion. Curling her lip a little at the growing, gnawing want to put it right back into place– “But believe me, try this. Just this once. Or what? You scared?”

Ozzy barked out a laugh. "Of one of your contraptions? Oh, very, sweetheart."

"Aww, truly?" Danae goaded. "Stars, and here I thought there was no gamble you wouldn't take!"

"Say I do, then," Ozzy chided, rolling his shoulders a bit. Ooh, had that annoyed him? That was a first- "I highly doubt it'd even work right–"

”And with any luck, he’d fumble it and it’d blow him halfway to Celestia,“ Da-Lun muttered, the corner of his lip twitching a slight at Danae's snicker. ”Spare us all his clownery.“

Ozzy eyed him at that, eyes narrowing just a hint before holding his hand out for the device. "Oh, I'd like to see Celestia tryn'n handle me, Da."

"You really think gods can't do what we have already?"

"Nope."

Danae scoffed a laugh then handed it off to Da-Lun, who passed it over to the man. Grimacing when Ozzy swiftly snatched it from his hands.

Seriously, was he trying to make it explode?

Especially since he'd immediately pushed against his belly, just under his ribs at his right side, the moment he'd gotten it. Which, recklessness aside, was already odd in and of itself, because Danae could have sworn his back ought to be where it goes. Pain relief considered, anyways.

Huh. So his weakest physical point was closer that area then?

A breathless sound in surprise had Danae's thoughts stuttering to a halt as she looked back over at the others.

Ozzy’s jaw had dropped, eyes wide as he clutched the Lenity to his body. Pressing it a little tighter, even while Da-Lun had tsk’d and tried to ease his grip, tried to stop him from fully turning the dial.

”Good then?“ Danae asked, moving to hop back up onto her workbench. A hand moved to idly dig the heel of her hand at the joint of her hip, once, twice, pushing down towards base of her knee, then her lower leg as she glanced him over. ”Looks like it, if yer all dopey now. Stars, did I actually discover the means to finally sedate you?"

Ozzy managed a chuckle. “Okay, so that…that really…!”

Da-Lun stepped to scoop up the pen and parchment from where the man had discarded them, then moved back. Oh, good, he knew the priorities here, as always– “Yes?”

“Morc, when you said resonate, you really…!” Ozzy let out a soft exhale, gesturing a slight to Da-Lun with his head, "C'mere, Da," then promptly pressed against the other for support once he drew close enough. No sooner, Ozzy's eyes fluttered shut, a content little hum rising in his throat.

He lay still a moment, two, before adding to his recount, “Feels lovely. Like a gentle...buzz? No, a hum, all through me." He waited a moment for Da-Lun to catch up, then added, "S'very soothing. Like…like a song–”

“Like Sister Barbara’s healing song?” Danae teased, shifting a slight as she eyed the Lenity. Stars above, the fact that she still wanted it back was a bad sign weak, weak-

“Oh, no–no, I don’t like that.” Ozzy’s eyes scrunched up a bit in distaste. "Th'shit gives me headaches just hearin' it from afar. I fear I'd burst into flames if she tried usin' it on me."

Pen scratches stuttered as Da-Lun stared at him incredulously. "She–she has a Hydro Vision–"

”Y'know what I mean, Da."

"No, I don't–"

In spite of the resulting laugh, Danae sucked in a soft breath while the two were distracted in their bickering, easing to edge forwards.

It was subtle, but now that she was a little closer, Danae noticed the usual slight furrow of Ozzy’s brow was gone, his jaw fully relaxed. Even his breathing seemed to be a little easier, too, with only slight hitches compared to the more pronounced rattle from before. A little quicker too, as though he were no longer carefully measuring each breath. His body didn't twitch and shudder as much either, no tension from how guarded and wound up he usually was; like a crossbow pulled taut and ready to fire at any moment.

Stars, it was no wonder the man started sounding like he had his tongue made of lead now. And from the looks of it, whatever he felt on the daily must be a nightmare to deal with, if even this modicum of relief worked for him. More than the aches and discomfort she did, for sure. Unless...he was just playing it all up to snuggle up to Da-Lun. She really wouldn't put it past him to–

”Still wanna hold off on it for Eliza?“ Da-Lun asked softly.

Ozzy hummed, eyes blinking open. “I still doubt it’s safe enough,” he mumbled, smoothly lifting it for Da-Lun to take. Rather unflinchingly, too- ”Especially with her…ah, clumsiness?“

”Ooh, don’t let her hear that. You know how sensitive she is about it."

”Morc–"

“Mako and Jade can help stay and manage it,” Da-Lun suggested, carefully taking it in hand then reaching for the cloth Danae held out. Awkwardly at that, as Ozzy still leaned heavily against him even with the thing gone. Well, he did have to readjust to not having it...that made two who did. What a massive downside- “We all could, in shifts.”

Shaking her head to dash further thoughts,Danae wrinkled her nose. ”All of us–?"

“Ugh, but then I’d have to increase your salaries to account for the extra hours you’d put in,” Ozzy groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Then where does that leave me? Broke. Ruined–”

“Mako and Durene would be more than happy to do it for free,” Danae pointed out, rolling her eyes. “Mako–here, Da, put it in this–loves making himself useful, spoiled brat as he is. And he adores Eliza, something about those Fontaine folk–”

“And Durene?” Ozzy asked, tipping his head back in thought as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. ”What's her stake?“

Danae blinked. She glanced over at Da-Lun then back to Ozzy. “You…can’t be serious.”

“Dead, in fact,” Ozzy answered, eyeing her back out the corner of his eye. “What?”

”Well, I’ll be,“ Danae marveled, nudging Da-Lun's hip with her good leg as best she could reach. Ignoring Ozzy's groan in protest- "You hearin' this?"

“I genuinely think he doesn't know,” Da-Lun remarked, disbelief clear in his tone. “Ozzy doesn't know.”

“Dunno what?”

“That is such an exploitable weakness.” Danae damn near felt amused enough to burst out in laughter. “So exploitable, I’ve been–Oz...!”

"What?" The man sat up fast, almost childishly petulant in his demand, “What? Tell me!”

“Durene and Eliza…" Da-Lun emphasized. Gesturing a little for emphasis.

Ozzy’s brow furrowed a slight, the gears slowly turning in his brain, then his eyes flashed open. ”Oh."

”Oh,“ Danae mocked.

”Oh, indeed,“ Da-Lun muttered. ”Now, Oz, don’t–”

“What a fucking nightmare,” Ozzy choked out, horror blooming across his features as he clutched his chest. “My Eliza and Durene…!”

“Oz–”

”Oh, stars, the unethics of a healer-patient relationship!“ Ozzy clapped his palm against his forehead. ”Durene’s been compromised!"

Danae faceplamed as Da-Lun sputtered and clapped a hand over his mouth. What was he trying to stifle there– ”That’s what you’re worried about?“

“My healer’s making goo-goo eyes at someone in her care,” Ozzy scoffed, feigned offense across his features. “Distracted, from her duties no doubt. Are you not worried?”

”I th-think it’s more of a benefit to you and Eliza that she is,“ Da-Lun managed. Clearing his throat and straightening up promptly at the odd look Danae threw him.

”Benefit to me?“ Ozzy laughed. ”Oh, no, you should see how she gets when I keep courtin' dear Eliza–oh...that explains a lot of her enmity to me now–, but, no, no, her feelings for Eliza are not a benefit to me–"

”But,” Danae pointedly suggested, “she can willingly watch over Eliza’s progress with the Everflame Lenity once she sees how much it’d help her.”

Ozzy blinked. ”Oh. Yeah, that. She’d love that.“ Seriously–

”Then it’s Eliza’s,“ Danae decided. ”We could have her–or, maybe Durene–report more on it and how effective it is for her. For now. As for the rest of us–"

”Any solid ideas for a more stable Pyro source?” Ozzy interrupted. And normally Danae would snap at him for it. However…

She rubbed the back of her neck. “Uh…haa, that–” She shifted under his stare. Alright, calculate the immediate outrage ( wait, why was she so worried? She didn't care ), bracing briefly ( oh, right, because they were more annoying than the others when they got worked up ), plunging the wound into saltwater– “A Smoldering Pearl should...work–?”

“Archons, Morcant–”

“Of fucking course you’d ask for that–”

“Mako’s working on getting us into Inazuma as is!” she snapped defensively. “And I’ve been there before–”

“Under Fatui diplomatic immunity,” Da-Lun scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“How do you expect us to get off Ritou even then, hm?” Ozzy chimed in.

“–so I know exactly where to go from there and what to do,” she stubbornly continued. “I can get us some disguises and use that Fatui Diplomacy to our favor if we really need all that, then a team of four can easily get in, get what we need, then get out. Simple!”

“And you have your crack team all in mind, I’m sure?” Ozzy asked, crossing his arms. Genuinely, mockingly, probably both, knowing him–

Still, Danae was undeterred as she just her chin out. Because, “As a matter of fact I do.” Mostly cobbled together from obsessive research she’d done on the needed source, sure, and perhaps all strictly hypothetical in its effectiveness, but– “One, I would be a key asset to this, since it’s a Pyro-based lifeform."

"Obviously," Ozzy drawled.

Danae huffed. "Then I would want you an' Da, as well as–”

“The only other alternatives we have to fight it are Durene who possesses a Dendro Vision,” Da-Lun protested, “Jade who would be absolutely useless to us with Pyro abilties herself, and–”

“Tua would be perfectly effective in providing ample distraction while the rest of us get to work and get it done!” Danae finished stubbornly. “Not to mention his Vision’s Geo reactions can get us shields while he's at it." Da-Lun’s mouth opened to protest again, her swiftly moving to cut him off in adding, ”I think that works just fine since I could help us finish it up promptly.“ Ignoring Ozzy’s snort- ”What, would you rather we ask some outsider for help? Da?”

Da-Lun clicked his tongue. “I would prefer we don’t go through the trouble at all!”

“Because you’re a damn coward!” Danae snapped, simmering temper at last igniting. Adamantly staying right in place to meet his glare, even as he suddenly flickered to stand towering over her again. Perhaps having instinctively made a grab for her screwdriver when he did- "This isn't anythin' new fer me. Fer us. We've been and always have–"

“We aren’t just risking two people like back then, Morcant,” he snarled back. “And even with the lot of us working in tandem now, you know damn well THAT thing is entirely different than a Pyro Regisvine. What you’re doing now is just insa–”

“We aren’t 'risking' enough! " Danae spat, slamming her free hand down. "And if you can’t see that, you gods-damned, half-breed beast, you oughta–!”

A shrill whistle had both Danae and Da-Lun flinching, turning to glare at Ozzy.

“Honestly, utter children, the lot of you,” he huffed, lowering his fingers from his mouth. Shaking his head, he met Danae's gaze. “Tell me, the Pearl will make it safer for Eliza? For certain?”

“Yes.” Danae huffed, crossing her arms. Both to press them against the gnawing sensation at her gut and in gesture. “It’s much more stable and has a more constant flow of Pyro energy. Likely will last longer, too.” She shot Da-Lun a proud look at Ozzy’s appraising hum. “And if we’re able to get more than one, not only is it extra insurance, but I could also tamper with them and see if it could help us not be so caught by the relief of the Lenity. See if we could possibly be able to control the intensity of the feeling a lot easier. Y'know?”

Da-Lun raised a brow. “You’re fully sure of it?”

“It’s…an estimation,” Danae grudgingly admitted. “On that latter bit, anyway. But, for certain, the Lenity would be safer for Eliza to use with it. And for far longer periods of time, without much–if at all–risk of the continuous exposure to Electro causing a terrible reaction. Especially compared to the Everflame seed.”

“Hn…” Ozzy nodded slowly. “I like that. We’ll draft plans for it come morn, then. In the meantime–” He reached to tap the box the device now rested in. “You let Durene know what to do, Da. She likes you best.”

“She thinks I’m the only one of us with sense,” Da-Lun corrected, snorting. “And after all that transpired now? I am fully inclined to agree.” Still, he made his way to the door without further protest. Pausing, he looked back.

“I’ll stay with them on the first night trial run, as well,” he told them. “For the notes. And extra security.”

“You’re the best, Da,” Danae called to him. Grinning completely unfazed at his withering glare.

“Not bad for a gods-damned, half-breed beast, right?” Da-Lun drawled, before turning and heading off. Slamming the door on his way out.

Ozzy's gaze lingered there until the sound footsteps retreated, then gave Danae a sidelong glance. “Oof, I think you really hurt him with that one, Morc.”

“Ah, he’ll get over it,” she muttered, waving her hand dismissively as she hopped down and turned to start clearing her workbench.

“Y'know, his kind don’t take so kindly to insults,” Ozzy chided, coming up behind her to take the box she held up. "They seem rather the smite-y sort, if y'know what I mean."

As he moved to set it on the shelf behind them, Danae snorted.

“Aw, what’s he gonna do? Cry to Rex Lapis about it?” She rolled her eyes. “I’d like to see that old fossil drag his ass on over here'n try anything. Oh wait, he can't. An' not like the others could do any better-” Shutting the toolkit, shuffling to straighten then setting her notes to the side, thank fuck they were actually well-done–

She paused.

Wait, why didn’t Ozzy laugh at that one? He usually liked her prideful little commentary–

“You better hope that doohickey of yers doesn’t hurt her.”

Danae rolled her eyes at the genuine seriousness in his voice. “Really? Open vulnerability in front of me, Oz?" Fingers drummed against the tabletop. "How bad did the thing get you, genuinely–”

“I mean it, Mare.”

She stilled, exhaling slowly. Alright, so…no joking around. Whatsoever.

A breath, two, then Danae turned around, leaning back on the desk. “We, of all people, know Da is the best person to protect her if it risks that.” She puffed her chest out. "Plus it's one of my works, Oz. I wouldn't hand it out for use unless I was certain it would work. One-hundred percent."

"Mm, true." Ozzy hummed, leaning in. Not to cage her like she'd anticipated, but to scoop up the toolkit, before pulling back to kneel and store it away. He glanced up at her. "Just I'm clear–we’re agreed. Yes?" A hand reached out. "That we can’t go near that thing again, I mean.”

Danae eyed him curiously, then sighed and held out a hand to help him to standing. "Hn." Even if awkwardly, considering he towered a near foot over her- "S'not good for folks like us."

It felt safe. Too safe. Damn near a trap of her own making, undoing forged by her own hands. An illusion of something just waiting to be shattered. One that most certainly would be. Something that'd definitely leave them at risk of being shattered themselves, especially in Ozzy's case, where the pain seemed to ramp up harshly once it was taken away–

"Right, agreed, then," Ozzy said, gripping her shoulders uncomfortably tight as he pushed to stand back up straight. "Glad you fed Da that bullshit of us wanting one of our own, too. Absolutely brilliant, he won't nag us to–ah, ah, don't you get all smug on me now."

He released his hold, moving to smooth the wrinkles from his clothes. Pausing to eye the ink stain on his pants, before adding, "So, we’ll never speak of this again, nor risk messing with that ever. 'nless absolutely necessary."

"I can power through pain just fine, Oz," Danae huffed, crossing her arms as she rolled her shoulders. "Have for years now, same as you. M'not Jade, for that matter."

Ozzy laughed, moving to bump her cheek with his knuckles. "But I still don’t want you compromised, Morc." A pause, baring his teeth in a grin. "It’d look bad on us if you collapse mid-mission or show weakness again, y'know."

A harsh flush rose in Danae's face as smacked his hand away, baring her teeth and snarling, "That was one time, Oz. Let it go. I told you, it won't happen again–"

"We never know." Unfazed, Ozzy shrugged and moved to see himself out. "Keep pushing yourself like that, sweetheart, it might just happen. Not that you've ever been a good listener–"

"I don't wanna hear that from the man who keeps using a Delusion against his healer's orders," she snarked. "Damn hypocrite."

"Ooh, perhaps." Hand on the knob, Ozzy paused and turned back. "Keep working on that, for me, yeah? And for your trouble today–"

He reached to rummage in his pocket, tossing her a small item.

Swiftly snatching it from the air, Danae glanced at her palm. Brows furrowing a slight as she held it up.

"A key?" she scoffed, raising a brow. "That's my reward?"

"Da and I got our hands on an Abyss Mage," Ozzy explained, looking rather proud at her now startled disbelief. "Pyro, mind you. Tua's keeping them company now as we speak, keeping them nice and weak for you."

"You brought one for me?" Danae's grip on the key grew taut as her eagerness grew, the metal biting into the soft meat of her palm. "Here?"

"A rather tricky feat to manage, mind you," Ozzy remarked. "But I knew you would earn it. In spite of all your hopeless little setbacks–"

"Oz!"

Pearl-white teeth flashed as he laughed. "Have fun with them, sweetheart. I might just join you t'get in on the fun." He opened the door and slipped out, casting one last look inside, "And good work, Morc. You did well," before the door shut behind him.

Danae let out a soft breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding. Slumping a slight against the desk now that the others had gone.

The praise churned in her gut, bubbling like air beneath the frothing ocean waves. But more than that, far more importantly than that, what gripped her the most now was the utter eagerness that thrummed in her veins at the thought of seeing their little prisoner now. In being able to carve information out of it herself, wringing every last bit of information it possibly had to offer. And if it didn't cooperate? She'd make every last moment the most miserable of its wretched existence, out of spite, in a bit of fun and stress-relief–fuck, after today's success, this was the cherry atop the sundae!

And if all went well, maybe she'll even indulge in one in the capitol, too. Maybe catch that little girl with the Valberries along the way and get some of those as well, stars, that would be a delight!

With that thought, Danae grinned as she tossed then caught the key, and rushed out the door.

#;mun drabbles #//Takes place for certain before the Inazuma quests in canon game events; if not v early on in them like in the Liyue stuff #//Tldr on the important bits; she came up with a device to help w chronic pain; but needs materials from outside home base in Mond #to help make it; more so to make it Stable and safe for constant usage considering it relies on Electro-Pyro reactions #//Thus enabling reason for her to interact/be placed in locations such as Inazuma and Liyue. For ease of plots; regardless of timeline #//The former having more complications; but w/ reasonable work arounds for it in the form of exploiting Fatui diplomatic immunity #v; intertwined fates (genshin verse)#//And now fun hc tidbits that matter to no one but me mjdnkdfg #//1) Durene's name sign for Dani is ASL-based; the sign for smart but with v instead of single pointed finger & a pause before flicking #//Bc it's got influence from the sign for stupid/idiot in it. So; her name sign is essentially Smart (Derogatory)#//But Danae being Danae can’t read the fondness of it; so she thinks Durene just hates her #//2) I realize I need to clear up a tidbit bc I hadn't added it in the bio yet #//Morcant is her code name working among the group; kept from when she had been with the Fatui #//Danae is her secondary name; and is what she'll most commonly give out in social settings otherwise #//Mare is her actual given name; but only a very select few actually know it and she's willingly given it out to fewer #//If I had to give a comparison; it's like how Childe w/ his names. Childe/Danae - Tartaglia/Morcant - Ajax/Mare; respectively #//3) Her reaction to Da-Lun’s touch is both her aversion to it & just bc of how their Visions/abilities (Hydro & Electro) react #//Since he constantly has energy thrumming through him as is and she tends to usually have the Wet status on her #due to how her abilities work. So she just naturally cringes away & anticipates she’s gonna get electrocuted by him at all times #//Yes; it has happened before; no; the others will NOT let her live down the exact reaction they'd both had to it #long post for ts #//Need to write rundown of allies/charas important to her story at some point. Make stuff easier to comprehend & then some #//Bc as good as she talks them up as a team at times & her thoughts on them in general; she is V unreliable a narrator #//They aren't as cohesive as she implies; so even with folks like Da-Lun being half-adeptus & having a capable healer in Durene #or even a merchant ally in Mako; they still have fair share of setbacks. Esp with Dani's own lack of trust in them & sheer ambition #to the point of disregarding her own allies' safety and comforts as secondary to the Main Goal she pursues; as seen in drabble #//But also they ARE friends; or some at least WANT to be (not that Dani realizes); but everyone's varying intentions/lack of #understanding of each other SEVERELY impede that at times & will bite them all in the ass eventually. Especially her #//They are a bit like a Jenga tower; steadily being picked at each time they cross each other's lines; but they make it work. For now #//That's the important bit to know while I get the other charas' brief descriptions up lmao

1 note · View note

hwanghyunjinenthusiast · 2 years ago

Text

size matters • l.c.

Pairing: lee chan x afab!reader Genres: major smut (minors PLS dni!), losers + idiots + besties to lovers Warnings: *deep breath* MONSTER COCK CHAN, swearing, love me some switch action, reader does not use specified pronouns but refers to their pussy as "she", reader also wears a skirt, pet names, alcohol and goofy drunk antics, bad humor, use of "whore/slut", tons of dirty talk, they're kinda pervs, mentions of toys, masturbation (fem), hints to past sexual partners, mentions of oral (male), actual oral (fem. receiving), car sex (kind of), condoms, fingering (fem. receiving), WAP lmao and squirting, bantering, degradation, wee bit praise, unprotected/protected MESSY sex, underwear play (??? lmao), precum play (??), edging, face-riding, groping/manhandling, objectification, reverse cowgirl position, bulge kink, slapping/spanking, possession, almost choking, biting, tears and crying, a bit of overstim and if i missed smth lmk sdfjkajdf WC: 8.3k A/N: this started out purely self-indulgent as usual and reads like a bad pornhwa but it's also nana month so a happy early birthday to @bitchlessdino because i will be asleep when the clock actually strikes 12 tomorrow! and bc i will dedicate all chan content to the loml! this is like my 3rd longest fic on this blog and 4th longest fic ever and it's just utter filth and smut... hate it here. i always get into a crazy headspace when i write for this man. i hope y'all enjoy my delusions before i retire out of shame 😬

"I'm worried my dick's too big."

Laughter bubbles in your chest at the same time the beer you'd just taken a swig of swishes around in your mouth. It's so like your best friend to say something stupid. Especially when your mouth is full.

He frowns in mild annoyance as you rock back and forth with mirth, struggling not to spit out your drink and make a mess. But also trying to refrain from choking. Because if you die, you sure as hell will find a way to make sure everyone knows that a dumbo and his terrible concern over having a big cock drove you to your demise in such an unfortunate manner.

And no one wants that.

"I dunno what's so funny," the man in question irritably gripes, "but for god's sake, calm down and swallow."

Though it ends up that Chan is the one gulping first. Ears burning and eyes widening when you wiggle your brows deviously and do as he says. Sticking your tongue out for good measure — just for proof that yes, you did swallow — but he's quickly whipping his gaze away. Head turning to the side as if that does anything to hide the embarrassing look overtaking his expression.

He thinks you'll back off, hoping the nervous twiddling of his fingers will deter further teasing. But he should really know better. The telltale signs are littered across the table in front of him and even overpower your usual sweet scent when you lean close into his personal space.

"So, you like it when someone swallows versus spits for you, Channie?"

"You're drunk."

"So are you."

Because that's what happens every movie night. The two of you enjoy too many beers after a feel-good show and start talking nonsense.

"Yeah, and we're having a very serious conversation right now. A drunk one. But still, serious."

You purse your lips. "You're bluffing. No way you're complaining about the hugeness of your dick. 'Cause no one does that."

"It's not like I'm trying to boast or even insecure, I'm just worried."

"Worried about what?" you snort and push at his shoulder. "There'd be no reason to worry if you know how to use it. In the end, size doesn't matter at all."

Chan quirks an eyebrow, side-eyeing you. "At all?"

"If your technique is good, it shouldn't matter as long as everyone feels satisfied. You know, you just gotta hit that one spot…"

You start doing hand motions to demonstrate your point that seem wildly inappropriate and are honestly so drunkenly uncoordinated to the point that Chan not only feels compelled to stop you but doubts anyone would feel good from that. Then again, he's never really managed to partake in sloppy sex, so who knows?

He grabs your hands to still them and though you no longer move, you protest. "What? You'll have 'em seeing and feeling stars! To be honest… you prolly will too if ya try your best."

"You know, I do know how to pleasure someone. It's not really an issue once I'm inside, it's just getting there that's kind of a problem."

"Channie, are you secretly a virgin?" You lay your head on his shoulder, hand running down his forearm and weaving your fingers between his. "Issokay if you are."

"You know I'm not!"

"Well, yeah I guess you're a bit of a whore. Still love you no matter what."

Chan chokes out your name in frustration. "All I'm saying is that I have a huge cock and I'm sad about it!"

"And you keep saying I'm drunk. Look, you're valid in being… upset about having a fat dick even if I don't understand. Just telling you that sometimes a ton of prep is helpful and even a decent amount of lube. No shame in that. Not everyone's built to take a large-ass, whopping cock." And then you mumble extremely quietly, "If it's even that big."

Unfortunately, he hears you and scoffs. Popping his shoulder up to gently shove you off him. Though that only causes you to grasp for his sweatpant-clad thigh and hold onto it for dear support in your half-drunken stupor. The perverted part of both your brains flash to your hand squeezing tightly around something else; the unmistakable heat of said something else radiating towards the closest part of your hand and causing a hot rush to flare across your entire body.

Or maybe that's just the alcohol.

Doesn't stop you from shamelessly ogling what you can only presume to be his bulge, gray fabric stretched over his groin and straining against muscular thighs.

"Are you flaccid right now?"

"What's it to you?"

"Just curious. Thinking about my different dildo sizes."

He balks at that. "Pl-please don't."

"Yeah, not sure I wanna compare what your dick would realistically feel inside me," you admit even if you find it difficult to tear your hungry eyes away to take in Chan's mortified expression.

"Can we stop talking about my personal parts now?" he squeaks out and you shoot him a dubious side-eye even though you do easily acquiesce.

"With pleasure. Speaking of which…"

Chan's hushed groan of "Oh dear" goes ignored even after you drape an arm on the back of the couch behind his head, lay the other across his chest, and splay your legs over his lap. Your lips end up leaving a sticky residue on his cheek, neck, and ear as you graciously whisper your own sex secret — the spontaneous topic of tonight — to him.

"Only my bullet vibe has the ability to make me squirt. None of the others, not even the thirteen-inch one with suction ridges. So yeah, hm… size doesn't matter, does it Channie?"

"I dunno a single dick attached to a human body that can vibrate or has suctioning functions."

"Then you should try harder."

He apologizes for having such blatant ignorance about the matter and then eventually you end up falling asleep together.

Limbs tangled and wrapped around one another just like every other night you doze off with the comfort of the other's body warmth. And like usual, you and Chan peer at each other with eyelids heavy from sleep and goofy but comforting smiles — merely inches apart when the sun's rays sneak a peek through the blinds to shine onto your faces. Because everything's normal and just right between the two of you.

Like always.

Except it's not.

All you can think about is your best friend's dumb, gargantuan cock and his weird embarrassment about it. If you didn't know Chan as well as you do, you might think he was just using that as an excuse to get into your pants but you know better. He's genuinely perturbed over his too-big dick!

You let out a sigh. Warm breath fans the tip of your ear while large hands lay on your hips, ringed fingers teasing the bare skin revealed by the daring crop top you decided to wear tonight.

"Am I boring you, baby?"

"Kind of," you admit, displeased that you weren't enjoying the usual thrill of grinding on the dancefloor with a hot man. Turning around to face said man, you purse your lips. "How would you feel if you had a big dick, Cheol?"

He raises an eyebrow in the self-assured way only the Choi Seungcheol can. "Shouldn't you be asking what it's like possessing the largest dick of the century?"

"Not helping, I'm not talking about big dick energy."

"That's not what you said when it was shoved halfway down your throat."

"Can't say much if I'm sucking someone off, you dolt. And I said you made my jaw hurt 'cause you're a guy that likes it rough, not 'cause I thought your dick was overly huge."

"Brat," Seungcheol says rather affectionately, "so whose humongous cock are you taking tonight?"

Your eyes wander over his shoulder to the bar, the same place he noticed your gaze strayed towards all night. A glee-filled smirk is on your face when you meet his eyes again though you only casually state with a shrug, "An absolute loser's."

"Wasn't aware it was self-pleasure night, sweetheart," he jokingly snorts, nudging you in that direction before you can get too mad at him. But not without delivering a playful slap on your ass as a 'good luck to charm' to send you on your way. "Go get 'em, Tiger!"

The cocky bastard must think you're after Soonyoung tonight, who greets you by placing a polite kiss on the cheek and a casual side hug. Though he looks hella fine tonight with slicked-back hair and donning the signature head-turning 'leather jacket, silver jewelry' fit that Seungcheol is sporting, he's not who you have in mind.

You squeeze him back though, always ready to return the affection you receive. "Rare to not see you dancing, tough crowd tonight?"

"Nah, I just have my priorities set." He angles his head toward the bartender who sneaks subtle glances at the two of you as if to distinguish what intentions you had approaching such a striking man.

That they just so happen to have their eyes on. Luckily Soonyoung does too.

"Ah, well, so do I!"

Never one to want to get stuck between two people and cause a potential misunderstanding, you pat him on the arm, wink encouragingly at the bartender, and skip away to find the person who's been occupying your mind for the past few days in a very different way like crazy.

Chan hasn't moved from where you last caught sight of him — in the corner of the bar nursing the same glass of bourbon for far too long. There's distinctly more water in it from the rapidly melting ice ball than alcohol but you still ease it out of his grasp. Taking a sip only to wrinkle your nose in disgust.

Your best friend observes your expression with a bemused one of his own after you hand it back, lip gloss staining the rim. A far cry from the darkened, sultry stare that followed as you moved from one gyrating body to the next. You wonder how you've never noticed it before. But then again, you yourself have never thought about him in that kind of way until now.

While momentarily lost in your thoughts, Chan's working on getting the attention of Soonyoung's flirt target to order your favorite drink. But you place a hand on his arm, squeezing the firm muscle beneath your fingertips.

"I wanna go home."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just feel like leaving."

He shakes his head. "You looked like you were having a good time."

"Ooh… are you jealous?"

"Hah, jealous? No. Concerned that someone did something you didn't like? Yeah."

"There will be," you tug him by the open collar of the flannel he's wearing so you're nose-to-nose, "if he doesn't take me back to his place right now."

His eyebrows raise, eyes widening as they drop down to the pouty curve of your lips. You swear he even peers at your cleavage with the tiniest of squints before finishing what little bit of liquor is left, standing, and pulling you along with him outside.

Walking to his car parked by the sidewalk is truly a breath of fresh air, the chill of the evening breeze and city noises rushing by helps bring Chan back down to earth. No longer on the crazy high fueled by the hypnotic, seductive thrall of the nightclub's booming bass that adds to him being wholly entranced by your teasing allure.

Now it's just you and him. Simple as usual, getting ready to drive around.

"You want to go to my place?"

"Yeah."

He starts the engine, checking the side mirror to estimate when there will be an available opening to pull out. "Whaddya wanna do, stop somewhere for snacks?"

"Sure. Maybe condoms too."

"I'm sorry, what?" It's a good thing the car's still in park when his foot stomps on the gas pedal out of shock, revving the engine and making you both jump. "Why?"

Chan even goes as far as to steal a glance over his shoulder at the backseat. As if you had miraculously snuck in someone from the club that you were planning to fuck and he didn't know about it.

There's no one there, of course.

"Why… are we picking up… condoms?" he repeats. "I um, I have a bunch of unopened boxes i-if you need them."

"You do? Good."

"Uh, can you at least let me know how many are used so I don't suddenly run out?"

Your eyebrows raise though he doesn't even dare look at you. "Do you think you'll cum that much?"

"Pardon?! N-no, I only have a surplus because I bought them in bulk!"

"I thought you weren't having sex a lot because you have such a big cock. One that rarely goes inside anyone."

His hands cover his face. "I'm saying it's fine if you want to use them!"

"Gee, thanks. You want me to make condom balloon animals or something?"

One brown eye glares at you between fingers. "… If you're into that."

"I bet extra large ones would make brilliant animal balloons but that's a sad waste when they could go around a dick instead. I mean it can't be easy for you to find ones that don't break. Whatever, at least you have a ton. And as you know I'm on the pill."

He has to know. He has to ask. "Are you confused or is it just me?"

"Clearly, because I don't know why you think I'd be into filling condoms with air and not cock."

"Forgive me if I'm wrong, but — I mean like there's no way — but are you implying that you want to… you know, with me…?"

"Whaddya mean 'no way'? Fuck yeah, I wanna fuck you! Sorry, was that not clear?"

Chan chokes on his saliva and has a brief hacking fit. "No?!"

"Damn, uh… my bad. Sorry, I thought it was super obvious. Simply put, I can't get the thought of you out of my mind or my pussy, so yeah. We should totally bang. Have sex and all that. Only if you want to obviously. No hard feelings if not."

Oh god, yes he does. Since he now knows that you can squirt, let alone with something as small as a little bullet vibrator, all he can think about is what would happen if he teased your cunt with the thick head of his cock. It's been driving him absolutely feral and fueled a rather ugly feeling when he saw Seungcheol all over you earlier.

But now that he knows you want him? Maybe just as much as he wants you? Explicitly?

He starts driving in an attempt to help collect himself. You're at ease, able to read him well and know he'll need some time to process and organize his thoughts. So, you wait in silence while he does just that, and when he speaks again his voice is low, laced with utter desire.

"You've been thinking about me?"

"Uh-huh."

"Your pussy has too?"

"Mhm, Channie… she's been crying for you like crazy."

"Fuck," he mutters and grips the steering wheel tightly to avoid swerving into the berm. He rasps out in a desperate beg, "C-can you touch yourself for me? Let me hear how loud she is?"

And you sweetly oblige with a hushed, "Of course," and can't lift your miniskirt up faster than you do now, pushing the drenched thong underneath to the side. Your clit's been buzzing nonstop ever since he whined about his big cock and you got to glimpse the outline of it. And with him now sitting beside you as your thumb rubs at the tiny nub, pointer fingers dipping in and out of your clenching hole, you both let out groans — you at the thrilling sensation and him at the insanely filthy sounds.

Chan steals a moment to take in the sight when he switches lanes, loving the way your tongue lolls past glossy lips that part to release little whimpers of pleasure. It's unlikely you'll squirt right now. But there's still a slick sheen of arousal glistening on your thighs so he holds onto the sick twist of hope that a trace will be left behind. He's pleased and licks his lips but has to swiftly pay attention to the road again, especially when your head rolls to the side, eyelashes pleadingly fluttering at him.

He needs to get home fast. Now.

The car fills with the sloppy noises of you playing with your cunt which grows wetter and wetter by the second. The air is heavy and oozes sex, the compact space growing more humid as you work and rile up your pussy, yourself, and the man beside you. You keep easing up to that delicious edge but never fully dipping over it, making sure to continue growing needier and more wanton until the blurry scenery rushing past the windows half-registers as familiar in your already fucked-out state of mind.

"Wanna get a feel of your cock," you whine out with no shame at how pitiful it sounds. "Gotta know how many fingers to stuff inside to stretch myself out for the real thing."

The way he spits out your name like a curse word makes your gummy walls contract tightly, emitting a moist suctioning sound when you pull your fingers out and bully them back in.

"No. You have to wait."

"Don't wanna! Been waiting long enough."

"So fuckin' needy," he taunts as if he's not panting heavily with his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. "I don't think they'll come even close to opening up that tiny hole of yours effectively for my dick. But size doesn't matter, so whatever. Right, sweetheart?"

You cuss him out jokingly while working knuckle-deep inside your cunt. Humping against your palm and pulling at your nipples with the other hand underneath your top when he rolls to a stop at an empty four-way in the neighborhood.

He swats your arm out and away, curiously sweeping his own fingers across your damp folds that flinch at the sudden contact but still mourn the devastating loss of being filled before he slaps at them. Chan grins like a total heathen at the way your hips jolt upon impact, growing more and more delirious at the way droplets of your arousal splash out at the action.

"If you cum by rubbing yourself on that seat — no hands — before I pull in the driveway, I'll let you touch me to mentally prep yourself before we get inside. Before I get inside you." His words are enunciated with a smirk that drops after bringing soaked fingers to his lips — eyelids fluttering with a grunt at your taste eagerly licked clean with his tongue. "God, do you know how delicious you are? Need you to sit on my face at some point, wanna drown in that sloppy pussy."

His dirty talk could be enough to finish you off, you belatedly realize. The earlier command to rut your aching clit against the scratchy fabric to soothe it makes you thrillingly feel like a depraved whore.

"You're a fuckin' perv, Chan," you growl out as if you aren't doing exactly what he asked on instinct and loving how he's talking to you. How good he is at making you feel divine.

"Yeah? But I want something to remember this by."

"Sick," you snarl through gritted teeth like the knowledge of him thinking about this moment every time he gets in his car and looks at the passenger seat isn't getting you off even more. Bonus points if he jerks off to it. You act like it's not the catalyst to you coming undone, blaming it fully on the bump of the asphalt connecting to the concrete driveway hitting your hard nub just right — absolutely defiling his poor car with your arousal. "Sick in the head."

Neither one of you care.

In fact, Chan's so pleased he ignores the words you both know you don't mean. Grabbing the hand you buried deep within your hole, but then chose to use it to grip at the console while following his command, and guides it to his mouth. Happily repeating the same thing he did to his own, maintaining eye contact as he tongues at your fingertips. Pupils dilating with how addicted he's become to your taste. Growing more and more eager to have it straight from the source in the very near future.

Then he places your spit-coated fingers where his cock strains against dark jeans. A darker, damp spot on the denim signifies how much precum the tip is leaking, begging to be released. He squeezes the hand sandwiched between his and the hardening length, shallowly thrusting up into your palm so you can completely grope at its mouth-watering, jaw-aching girth.

"Feel that?" he goads, "that's gonna have to fit inside your tight cunt."

Your eyes nearly cross at the realization. And of course, your pussy forlornly clenches around nothing, dripping out more arousal to add to the already soiled mess beneath you.

Oh, you cannot wait.

He wasn't lying, positive every single finger stuffing your hole couldn't compare to the size you just felt beneath those very appendages. Tears collect at your lash line, already anticipating the sheer amount of pleasure you know you'll be feeling with a very warm and real dick. And he's not even anywhere inside of you yet!

Chan coos and wipes the tear that escapes to your cheek. Then he gets out of the car and comes around to the other side to help you walk since your legs are weak and shaking — for more than one reason. That's fine because it gives him almost a weird sense of pride and an excuse to grind and grope at you as he pleases while unlocking the front door. Surprisingly, both of you are giggling together as if you're naughty teens again, always up to no good. It feels strangely wholesome, a light sense of relief blooming and filling your entire body.

Until you're on the other side of the door and those feelings morph back into something carnal. More primal. And Chan must feel it too because you swear he growls when pinning you against the wall.

"You'll let me eat you out, right? 'Course you will."

Now it's your turn to feel perverse satisfaction, watching as his lip trembles at the very thought of getting denied such a treat. Feeling the man's absolute desperation through the fingertips that dig into your hips and slightly hike up the already ridiculously short skirt you're wearing.

"C'mon bestie, please."

"… You did not bestie-zone me right now."

"I — " Chan hesitates and you fear the reality of the situation has hit him. That he'll back out and leave you a yearning mess like this. But then he leans in close to whisper hotly against your ear, "What, you want me to call you something like baby?"

Your hum of consideration encourages him to continue, palms sliding down the sides of your bare thighs and lowering himself at a pace that matches the syllables of each word leaving his mouth. Keeping eye contact with you the whole time as a mischievous smirk lights up his stupidly handsome face.

"Darling? Babe? Lovely sweetheart? Or…" His voice gets thicker, more gravelly until he's finally on his knees and peering up at you. "A vixen? Seductress? Little whore? My slut?"

His hands sneak upwards again, pausing when they're hidden under the pleat of your skirt.

"Still, you'll always be my dear best friend." He acknowledges and for some reason, it fills you with a comforting sense of reassurance.

And then he waits, hoping — praying — to get your permission.

The coy way you lift up the skirt in no way matches the cute grin you flash at him. Biting your pointer finger as you reveal your pretty pussy for Chan, its puffy lips spread by the continually soaked thong stuck between them. His eyes flick almost nervously away from yours to get a look, letting out a strangled moan at the sight.

Automatically drawn like a bee to honey. His heart thumps anxiously when your fingers bury in his bangs to yank at them, halting him just short of being able to stick his tongue out for a taste that he already misses. He whines, fully surrounded by the heady scent of your arousal and unable to feast. But you have something to tell him first.

"You can't make me cum."

"What? Why? Need to stretch — "

"No. I already spent hours practicing with my thirteen-inch, so it'll be fine. We're doing this so you know what the telltale signs are when I'm about to cum when this," you briefly release his hair so manicured nails can pet the outside of your glistening wet cunt, "is wrapped around your dick." You smile when he moans quietly at the revelation and you tug lightly again at silky strands, eager to hear more before you absolutely break him. "And don't you want to see me squirt?"

"God, yes."

You shove his face between your inner thighs. "Then this'll help, baby boy. So, don't you dare let me cum unless it's on your cock."

Chan really can't protest against what you call him and honestly wouldn't want to because that would mean leaving the delectable meal he's finally being allowed to dine on. Though your thong remains in the way, he uses it to his advantage. Sucking all the wetness out of it with a hearty groan of appreciation, pushing it back between your folds, and running his tongue that put it there in zig-zag motions along the sorry excuse for fabric. Then repeating the same motions on either side of the bare supple pussy lips that clench at every nibble, suck, and brush on them.

It isn't very long until he gets frustrated by its restrictions though, feeling outrageous at how jealous he's getting of a piece of cloth that gets to wrap around your cunt all the time. Like you can read his mind, you pull him off with breathless laughter at his inevitable moan of sadness and mumble words of reassurance that you're doing it for his benefit.

He can't really hear with the rush of adrenaline roaring in his ears but he surely sees how you rip the offending thong away. It tears easily, falling apart at its most sodden point. And finally, your pussy is truly bare all for him and he rushes to dive back in. Slurping and sucking at your drenched hole like a dehydrated man finding an oasis in the desert.

Again, Chan's intentions were to leave you weak with the magic his mouth and tongue could work but you don't really allow him. His neck's cranked at an awkward angle as you continue to grip at his hair and smother his lips and tongue with your cunt, sloppy ruts back and forth causing your clit to catch and bump against his nose. He doesn't mind even if he's ninety-nine percent positive this is how you'd get off on one of your toys — no, he definitely has not imagined that — but he's not complaining.

There's something in the way that you're utterly using him like he's nothing but an object for your ultimate pleasure. It has the blood rushing down to swell up his cock even more. And maybe he's willingly happy to do so. Offering his body for your pleasure, making sure to stiffen his tongue so it will hit part of your clit as you move and grind all over his face.

It's kinda hot. He also might be enjoying this a little too much.

And just as his eyes roll up for the umpteenth time out of delicious, delirious dizziness, he feels it.

The buildup must have been when you started humping his chin shamelessly, slamming down harshly enough that he's sure he'll have bruises to show off. Settling more and more of your weight forward to arch your back, breasts heavy as they follow gravity, and your nipples visibly poke through the crop top's thin material.

Your hips jerk up and away a few times, the subtle wiggle in them certainly has your ass jiggling cutely. He also notes how your "ah" moans turn to "mhms", positive you're biting your lip with closed eyes and a pleased grin. By now the hands tangling in his hair have made their way to the back of his head and Chan knows one thing for sure.

You're on the brink of climaxing.

And as much as he wants you to make more of a mess on his face, he's a little afraid of what you might do — or might not do — so he obediently, but regretfully backs away and sinks down to sit on his heels. Pathetic, the way he has to simply watch like a good boy as your slit flutters above him and you release the death grip hold you had on his poor hair.

Once all of your weight is supported by the wall again, you slide down it to plop on the floor. A sheepish grin on your face as you praise him for doing such a great job, reveling in what a sexy, fucked-out look he's wearing — mussed-up hair, swollen lips, and a shiny mix of sweat and arousal decorating his face as his eyes struggle to refocus while he catches his breath.

He embarrassingly thinks you might kiss him when you lean in. Only to jolt with surprise at your hand slipping into his back pocket and he flinches after you squeeze at his well-shaped ass with a naughty giggle.

"A souvenir," you murmur in his ear and he feels the spongy ball of your torn thong when he stands like it's a gold coin weighing down his jeans.

"Can't believe you ripped those yourself."

"Can't believe you didn't rip them."

"Didn't wanna ruin them," he admits because he'd honestly feel bad. Though you shoot him a funny look that he doesn't quite understand as he assists your wobbling frame on the walk to the bedroom.

"Dude, you've already ruined so many, what's one more pair?"

"Huh?"

It's amazing how serious you are when you ask, "Don't you remember how wet I've been getting thinking about your dumb cock? Almost ran out of panties to wear."

With that admission, Chan is immediately rushing you down the hallway and has you on his bed at record speed. It's so comical that you have no choice but to once again fall into that giggly headspace like earlier as you help one another strip each other's clothes off.

"God, why are you like this? Such a fucking little tease."

"You love it."

"Hm, yeah," he looks at you with such tenderness, "guess I do."

You verbally agree even as you grab at his wrist before he can throw his boxers to the ground. "Hand 'em over. It's only fair if you have mine," you point out when he raises an eyebrow.

"Someone's full of surprises."

"Well, somebody's loved all of them so I'm sure he'll like this one too."

Though he falls onto his back easily when you push him down, he can't help but raise concern. "I get that you… practiced, but wouldn't a better position be with me on top? You'll like — "

"And I get that you liked being used like a dildo, baby boy."

You miss the chagrined look that rapidly spreads across Chan's pretty face at the callout. But that's okay because you turn around to throw a leg over and straddle his prone body, staring at your prize of the night — the fattest dick you've been fantasizing about in the flesh.

"Thanks for these, by the way." You send a wink at him over your shoulder, waving the boxers that dangle off your pointer finger. "Need something to bite onto," you add and moan when you deliberately let your tongue meet the salty patch of precum smeared on them before clamping the black cloth between your teeth.

His heavy cock jerks up, already overwhelmed by everything you're doing. His hips follow suit, also lifting once the feeling of your dripping cunt soaks his abs as you sit and press him back against the bed and reach a hand out. He groans, clutching at the blanket when your palm rubs at the sensitive skin. You marvel at how your decently sized fingers fail to fully wrap around the entire girth.

It already weighs a ton laying against the hand you're using and struggling to prop it up. Shining in all its glory from the excess that's leaked and coated it thoroughly. You seem happy to add to it and Chan's eyes widen at the couple of clear globs of arousal that drip out of your cunt, aided by two free fingers spreading your pussy lips and contracting your inner walls to squeeze them out. And then you sink a little lower, kissing the tip of his cock with your clit before rubbing the thick head between your folds.

"You're… you're so w-wet, mhm, fuck!" He's already on the brink of tears and this is just the beginning. And the gasping man might've just let out a sob at the sight of both of your hands shaking, clasped around his dick as you position it at the right angle and slowly ease the tip inside. "God, 'n so soft," he fucking gargles out due to how much he's drooling.

You're no better off. The saliva that's pooling in your mouth at the delightful ache and burn has completely saturated his boxers. They do nothing to muffle your moans that only grow higher in pitch with the few additional inches you attempt to take, a little more each time. But at least you won't grind your teeth together, plus you're buried in the taste and scent of Chan's essence. Even more so as you topple forward, nails digging into his shins.

It's almost humiliating. How you've ended up face-planting into the mattress and your hips take on a mind of their own, humping up and down midair yet still on the top of his cock. Circling and gyrating as they attempt to both run away and plop firmly up and down onto the hard, thick length begging to fully bury into your tight cunt that's slowly widening to accommodate.

Luckily, it's not like Chan can make fun of or even blame you, focusing everything he can on not thrusting up into your wet heat on his own accord right now out of consideration. The man understands it's a stretch, a painful one at that.

He doesn't mind staying mildly distracted. There's so much to take in. Ogling the way your ass bounces and jiggles, pornographic sound effects of his cock absolutely bullying your pussy as it squelches in and out. Filling the room with nasty noises audio porn wishes it could truly replicate amid both of your pants, moans, groans, and whines.

It feels like forever until his length has finally made its home within your squishy walls that welcome it inside with a multitude of affectionate squeezes. But honestly, that barely lasts because your hips refuse to let up and once the stretch no longer burns as much and instead melts into mind-numbing pleasure, all you can do is ride him into delirium. And Chan fucking loves it, continuing to watch how your ass reverberates with each downward slam accompanied by the sting of ass cheeks slapping against his stomach over and over again.

"S-so slutty f'me, b-best friend actin' like a whore on my dick."

"Ah, mm… cock… your cock! It's makin' me act slutty!"

"Yeah? You like being my slutty best friend, baby?"

You lug your head onto the leg you'd been riddling with love bites and salivating all over after spitting out his ruined boxers, looking tearfully in his direction. Cross-eyed with a goofy smile on your face at how fucked-out you've become as your clit grinds against his squishy balls that tighten, firm, and fill up with each thud of your hips.

"Mhm… yeah."

"You gonna be my slutty baby from now on?"

"Ohhh, touch me Channie… please!"

"Since y-you asked so nicely." He squeezes at your ass cheek though it's quickly wrenched out of his grasp because you can't stop moving. "But I… I asked you a question." And then his palm flies out, skin meeting skin in a loud crack against your other cheek. As if it's actually a punishment. "My pretty whore's too fucked out to answer, h-huh?"

"Mhmph! More… more!"

A gasp leaves your mouth and impossibly, your hips only speed up before they suddenly halt. Practically screaming at this point with how good your best friend's cock is buried so deeply and fully seated inside as you somehow manage to sit up with inhuman strength.

Oh, but your darling Channie knows why.

He lazily grins, empty mind now playing all the signs through his head along to the same moments happening in real-time. You have a death grip on his thighs, certain he'd really impale you in a morbid way if you lose your hold as you bounce haphazardly. How nice, he decides to aid you — giving into the urges to thrust up into your suffocating little cunt whenever you rise up so you constantly remain stuffed full every single time.

Your back does its arch thing and he runs a hand down the curve, pushing down ever so gently as he takes over. It's his turn for a slapping assault, his balls returning the favor on your tender clit that pokes and rubs at them, egging on the brutal pace you started in the first place.

"Gonna squeeze the life outta me," and you clench even tighter around him so that even the air in his lungs is sucked out by the squeeze of your cunt. "You wanna murder me with that sweet pussy of yours? Choke the life outta me, sweetheart? Like the well-behaved little whore that you are?"

Chants of "yes, yes, yes" fall in between salacious moans of "mhms" and "fuck Channie, so good" and it fuels Chan into true unleashed feral mode. The addition of the white ring forming at the base of his cock in no way, shape, or form is helping to reign him in at all. He presses appreciative bruises into the skin of your hips, aiding your sore and tired legs with the powerful strength of his arms.

"A creamer too… oh my god, what can't your cunt do baby, fuck — so freakin' perfect."

"All… all for you!"

Chan laughs and it's mean, a petulant frown causing your lips to jut out at his mocking tone. "For me? You gonna be a-all mine from now on? Let me be the only one t-to stretch this sweet hole out?"

Ongoing cries of "yes" mixes and slurs with "yours" but it's enough for him, especially when you manage to moan out with a promise that you're definitely his slutty whore and will only be his forever.

That pleases him, an elated grumble rumbling in his chest. "Gonna fill 'er up real good and you'll swallow me whole baby. Feel me for days, drippin' outta — ah, shit!"

His voice cracks, the hands assisting your movements haul your hips up and then down, anchoring them firmly against his pelvis. You peer over your shoulder at him in utter dismay at suddenly being empty. His missed cock trembling without your warmth, flopping hot and hard against your stomach. Granting a helpful outside visual of how deep it can drill up into your cunt. But that's kind of useless when you already experienced it first-hand, so all you can do is send Chan a weepy glare.

"S-sorry babe, we just, I should probably… " His eyes dart to the unopened drawer of his nightstand. "Gonna throw a condom on."

You let out a scoff of disbelief and discontent, surly brat behavior poking through. "Doesn't matter, wanna feel you fill me up. 'N then squirt it all out, won't matter anyways."

"That's not how it works."

Chan's grateful the usual post-nut clarity somehow hit before. It's still awful timing and might have been a complete mood killer but you're both so worked up — you in particular — it doesn't seem to matter. Even as he nudges you off while reaching for a package, you back up and try to grind against his cock to change his mind. But you reluctantly give up, especially when he ends up reacting with a harsher hiss more from rolling the latex down the sensitive length than your plump ass rubbing it.

You're honestly a little offended.

He hushes and tries to soothe you. Fumbling with the slick mess around your gaping hole and dipping inside occasionally with one hand as he works on the condom. But you know for a fact you've been ruined because you barely feel a thing after your cunt's been stretched out for and filled specifically with his huge cock.

Now you just wish he'd ultimately finish the job of ruining you. Oh, and maybe continue some more after. And a lot.

You grimace because you're able to think too much. And then Chan's finally all ready to go and your cheek is suddenly pressed into the rumpled sheets, nipples brushing deliciously against them. You're pushed onto your forearms and he helps widen your knees at a spread angle so your pussy is fully presentable and gapingly accessible.

"Good thing I'm flexible."

"Yeah," Chan licks his lips, "just as I'd expect from my sweet slut."

"You gonna fill this slut up then, Channie or — "

You're cute off by the squeal at his cock ramming back inside of where it belongs. Meanwhile, he chuckles darkly, running a hand through sweaty bangs as he tries to distribute weight solidly with how he's risen to his knees. Finding little support from the mattress to support the onslaught of powerful thrusts in and out of your pussy and discovers a better method with a tight hold of your hips where his hands instinctively fall.

"Best way to shut a whore up is to fuck them." He clicks his tongue in disapproval because you're nuzzling face-first into the bed, muffling the sounds that drive him crazy. "Doesn't mean I don't wanna hear you moan f'me, baby."

What he doesn't know is you're trying to find something to bite into that won't end up being your poor tongue.

To manhandle you as he sees fit, Chan's fingers slip down to splay around where your vocal cords lie. Thumb digging beneath your jawline into the soft fleshy skin of your neck. Teasing you with a not-quite-there chokehold that causes you to pulsate around the cock sliding in and out with little resistance thanks to the help of the slick that pools endlessly out of your core.

Then he's turning your head to the side to watch your eyelids flutter rapidly. Noticing how your jaw is clenched, teeth practically gnashing at each push into you that now relentlessly strokes that bundle of nerves. Taking pity, he lends a finger. Prying open your mouth and not caring when you bite down on it with a ferocity that could break skin — that's what he offered it for anyways — though it will definitely leave behind bruising indents that'll take days to heal.

But he wouldn't care if you ended up breaking his bones too. With the way he's driving his dick over and over into you like a madman, he possibly could break something by that alone. The new position benefits the both of you greatly, granting him a better angle to reach deep and you find comfort in the way his body lays against yours. Pressing you down further into the bed, the weight comforting.

Even through the latex, he can feel the little bump of nerves his tip brushes against that's just rough enough to make him shiver. He purposefully aims his pelvis to be able to hit it each time. The lone arm at your hip wraps around your abdomen and he moans at how he can feel the bulge of skin pressed against his forearm from the size of the monster dick within you.

It drives him feral, punctuating each sharp thrust with a praising hiss of, "Best. fuckin'. pussy. ever!"

And then it's happening. You can literally see the tightly-wound knot unraveling. Can feel as it loosens while your cunt suctions around his cock in a hard, vice-like grip. You cling around him, refusing to let him leave your warmth for a second. Not even daring to let him slide even a bit out. Though he wouldn't even think of it. As the mental ties come undone in your brain, so does your body — plummeting over and free-falling off the cliff of pleasure.

White flashes across your vision as your body writhes and shakes beneath Chan. Overcome by how fucking amazing it feels to be so full with the devastatingly huge dick of the person you care about the most tearing apart your insides. You're sobbing, tears drenching your face and where it lays.

Chan's praising you through it all, complimenting how good you are for him, how perfect everything about you is, and how only you — his bestest, sluttiest, sweetest friend — could take him so well.

"Fuckin' knew you would be the one," he confesses and presses a kiss against your neck. It's so tender, full of love and gentleness despite how his hips cruelly still haven't let up, and it makes you wail even louder. "Ever since you smiled at me. Now, c'mon sweetheart 'n give it all to me. Show's only just gettin' started."

He's guiding you through the most intense orgasm you've ever had as it spirals from a crashing wave into a soon-to-be gushing waterfall. Yes, you've squirted before. But never with such a delightful buildup like this. And he knows you can take it, knows it's what you want as he coaches himself to hold off from his own finale. You let out a hearty moan, shaking at the overstimulation and feeling him twitch repeatedly inside. Almost as if his dick itself is begging for your release so it can do the same.

Your body listens and obeys, utterly charmed by your best friend's cock. Not like that would change the impending fate bound to happen anyway. Your cunt expels him out with a spray that splashes against his abs and drips down his thighs. Chan swears and grabs his length that bobs in the air upon being freed, fingers holding the condom tightly at the base like a makeshift cock ring.

Furiously jerking off just a little bit to reach completion and then he's emptying what feels like a life's worth into the poor condom that can barely contain it. Unlike your pussy that would take it all if given the chance. It inflates, ballooning out and filling up with so much cum it's threatening to pop. As if it wasn't working overtime, straining around the sheer size of his cock.

It's so full and heavy, gravity weighing it down to flop against your folds that squirt out a tiny bit more upon contact that has your legs seizing. Your lower body — now growing numb — was somehow still sustained by Chan's insane one-arm strength until he flops onto you. Bringing you both down onto the wet mess on the bed.

"Get off, you're heavy," you grouch though a dumb smile lights up your blissed-out face.

He laughs breathlessly and rolls onto his side, bringing you into his arms and looking at you with stars in his eyes. You nuzzle into his neck, inhaling his comforting scent you never want to be without now that you've been fully encompassed by it in such an intimate manner. So you wait, feeling the way your hearts both beat rapidly and he takes a deep breath. Chest expanding as his lungs fill with much-needed air after so much exertion.

Anticipation brims from the crown of your head to the tip of your toes when Chan finally asks, "Hey, do you still think size doesn't matter?"

You blink. Once. Twice. Thrice. Definitely not the question you were expecting.

There's a lively spark still dancing in his tired eyes and you match it with a playful smile. "I'm not really sure, I think you'll have to prove it to me a few more times."

"Suppose there's still a lot of condoms we can't let go to waste."

"Aw, you don't want me to make you some balloon animals?"

"That offer is tempting but…" Sneaky hands tickle the swell below your breasts and you giggle, half-heartedly batting him away. "Not as much as you are."

"And you know… there's still a lot of chances to confirm some things while we test out whose theory is right."

"Confirm what, my dear? 'Cause I'm pretty sure I've already staked my claim on what's mine." It's embarrassing how easily Chan can read you, a know-it-all smirk on his face as he cups your warm cheek oh-so-lovingly. "My slutty bestie's the only one who can take my cock like a champ, there's no way I'm letting you go now."

It's even more embarrassing that your heart and sore hole flutter at crude words that totally shouldn't make you feel like a silly fool in love. But because you are, it only makes you fall harder.

"So, you're mine now too?"

"If that's okay with you."

And of course, it's okay with you, you verbally affirm. Feeling his smile against your own when he leans in to kiss you. You'll confirm later that size really doesn't matter. After all, you just happen to be lucky that your bestie-now-turned-boyfriend has a huge cock to complement the equally huge amount of love he has stored for you in his heart.

#dino smut #seventeen smut #lee chan smut #elv <3 #getting those out of the way before i unleash #i need tumblr to let me use more than 10 reaction pictures because these 10 don't scratch the surface of my feelings right now #i know you wrote this for nana #as you should it's what she deserves #but that inclusion of the scene with cheol............a threat actually #where do i even start #i already knew when you told me the title for this fic and that i would like it based on that dino drabble i wrote a bit ago that i would #be in for it #but good job underselling yourself elv because jesus fucking fuck christ #this is some of the filthiest smut I've read in ages #i was clutching my pearls and clenched throughout this #THE CAR SCENE??!??@?!?@?!??!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!??!?!?!?@?@??@?@? YOU'RE SO FUCKING SICK AND TWISTED #PERV CHAN????!!!!!!!!!?@??!?!?!? A CONCEPT I HADN'T CONSIDERED NOW IT'S CORRODING MY BRAIN THANKS SO MUCH #letting your juices sink into his seat.....as a keepsake.................i need to be locked away #is it awful that i was disappointed that he decided to put on a condom? 💀😭 don't perceive me it's dino okay #listen #LISTEN #i am usually a dom dino type of girlie but the switchiness between him and the reader in this........calling him a good boy......him being #into being used and objectified..............i simply died.#anyways i need to figure out a way to move on from this somehow cool cool cool #(also i do plan to read your hoshi series jhhkk I'm slowly working through my bookmarks and i decided to go top to bottom since i got too #tired to scroll lol but i do plan to read it especially since the hoshi demons have been creeping up on me lately)#q: painting with hyunjin

4K notes · View notes

astracora · 16 days ago

Text

I started thinking about my SaniOC again, and how they're built for a role, to serve a government that doesn't care about them, to replace a dead person who was just a tool. To be another body in an endless war against an enemy that looks like a mirror image of broken souls.

Stuck together from parts that don't fit, with part of someone else's soul holding them together, because you can't escape servitude even through death in this war. You're stuck having to fight, forever, and ever, even if when you look in the mirror it's not even a semblance of you anymore.

Thinking about how they don't even have a name, just a number, because tools are meant to work, and they don't have the right to think past that. Not even sure what they're missing, just a quiet ache in their chest like they're meant to be holding something.

Pushing it down because they have a role to fill, and they weren't made for emotion or for thought. They were made to fight, and to lead tools like themselves.

An empty doll led from a cold clinical room, where they sat waiting for tests to end and for orders to come, brought in front of a screen and told to CHOOSE. Why? They had no choice coming here. Had no will to express. Had nothing to push them.

Five figures before them. All a blade to use as a weapon. A right hand to lead an army. Another tool to obediently move where told. Standing, staring. Waiting. Surely someone will tell them which to pick, surely someone will point and go 'that one'. Someone has ALWAYS made these choices for them.

It's been ingrained into their being, follow, follow, follow. Rules and limitations.

'I'm just a duplicate'. Into the space between, and a blink of one silver eye at blue and gold.

The uncanny unsettling pull at a soul, and the bite of discomfort in a non-organic stomach.

A choice made without meaning to make it.

'Yamanbagiri Kunihiro has been assigned to Citadel #22-84-AX'.

#drabble #what do I even tag these things as... I don't know #wonder writes #I guess??? that'll do #anyway TKRB Sani my beloved you're a fucked up mess of pieces and guilt and I love you specifically #anyway it got a bit away from me #I was just thinking about them today and thinking about how they'd be drawn to the uncanny similarities of being a duplicate #Touken Ranbu #writers on tumblr

4 notes · View notes

gloomwitchwrites · 4 months ago

Note

There was this tiktok trend where kids and their mums would pull a prank on their dads by telling their mums to shut up...141 with a teenage son who tries it?

Anon, I am very aware of this prank. If mom is in on it, I consider it all in good fun, but omg, these guys would be absolutely stressed if they heard their teenage son tell mom to "shut up." Heads would absolutely roll over that!

Price is certainly old enough to have a teenage son on the older side. I would even say the same for Ghost. Gaz is old enough for a younger teenage son. With Soap's age...that's stretching it. BUT SUSPEND DISBELIEF Y'ALL. I'm aging Gaz and Soap up a bit for this one.

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

Presented in two double drabbles and two triple drabbles.

Task Force 141 x Female Reader (w/ children)

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, pranks, domestic, dad!141, brief suggestive themes, marriage

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

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Ugh. Shut up, Mum.”

There is a brief pause between mum and when the television remote hurtles across the room. Your son doesn’t duck in time, the hard plastic hitting his shoulder before bouncing onto the kitchen island with a loud clack.

Before your son turns, Kyle’s baseball cap with the Union Jack, soars through the air like a frisbee. This one your son manages to avoid, but it’s quickly followed by a slipper. It flies past his head, and you catch it out of the air before it makes contact with the front of the microwave.

You and your eldest son turn in Kyle’s direction as he manifests in the kitchen entryway, the other slipper in hand, poised to launch it at the first sign of any movement.

“Wanna repeat yourself, mate?” Kyle appears calm and poised, but you notice the subtle tension in his jaw.

“It was a joke, Dad! Promise!”

Kyle’s arm holding the slipper starts to rise.

“Kyle,” you say. His gaze flicks to you. “Just a joke. No harm. I was in on it.”

His shoulders immediately sag. Kyle shakes his head. Rolls his eyes. Heading for the fridge, he opens it up, grabbing a can of his favorite beer.

Kyle sets the beer down on the island, pointing the slipper at you and then his son. His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. No words come out, just an exasperated huff.

Kyle snatches up the television remote and sticks it into the pocket of his grey sweatpants. Keeping hold of the shoe in one hand, and his beer in the other, he gives the two of you his back, heading into the living room.

“No one bother me until the game is over,” he says over his shoulder. “And someone bring me my bloody slipper!”

John Price

"Fucking hell, Mum. Shut it."

John is up and out of his seat so fast you hardly see him move. He strides over to his son, yanking him off the stool by the scruff of his shirt.

"John! It's a prank!" you say quickly, reaching for his arm.

The boy is dangling in the air, toes just shy of touching the ground. "A prank?" asks John skeptically.

"Mum is in on it. Promise."

John sighs heavily and slowly lowers his son to the ground. The moment his feet touch ground, he tries to step away, but John holds firm, keeping his eldest child immobile. He leans forward a bit. Lowers his voice.

"Prank or no, you never talk to your mother, your sisters, or any woman in that manner again. Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good boy." John releases his son. "The lawn needs trimmed."

"Yes, sir."

Your son scurries away. It isn't until the door to the garage opens and shuts that John moves toward you. His arm drapes over your waist, hand landing firmly on your ass, squeezing hard.

"You're coming with me."

"To do what?"

He presses his lips to your ear. "For a different sort of punishment."

John "Soap" MacTavish

"You’re off your head, lad.”

With Johnny’s cold tone comes a tension to your son’s shoulders. He becomes rigid, sliding down into his chair like he can escape from his father by cowering underneath the table. Johnny comes around the corner, a bit of sweat on his brow. He's been building furniture all day for the nursery.

"Want to repeat that for me?" asks Johnny.

Your son’s voice cracks. "It was just a prank, Dad."

"It was what?" Johnny strides forward.

"It's a prank. I'm in on it. Promise," you say, attempting to soothe Johnny’s anger.

Johnny crosses his arms over your chest. "Is it?" He glances between the two of you and sighs, muttering, “Am pure done in.”

He disappears down the hall, returning with a stack of instructional manuals, dropping them into his son’s lap. "You're building furniture."

"But I—"

“You right scunner. C’mon.” Johnny yanks his son out of the chair, the stack of instructional manuals goes flying. Your son reaches for them all, desperately clasping them against his chest.

“Johnny," you call out, walking around the counter to intervene.

He glances over his shoulder, frown gown, sly smirk on his face. “Deal with you later."

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“Oi, Mum. Shut it.”

Your son is a wonderful actor. You’ll give him that. Even you almost believe him. Not that he would—he’d never—but his delivery reminds you of a completely pissed football fan ready to throw a punch at a member of the rival team.

He should consider theater.

Simon, your husband, is watching a rugby match in the living room. The television is on but at a low volume.

Within seconds of the words leaving your son’s mouth, Simon appears like a phantom guardian in the entryway. In one he holds the remote like a weapon. The other arm cradles his infant daughter. She looks like a small bean. Slightly curved as she snuggles closer against Simon’s chest as she sleeps.

He's not looking at you. He's staring at his son, gaze intense and full of fire.

You’ve seen that look before.

Mission abort.

"He's joking, Simon. It's just a prank,” you soothe, knowing you need to get ahead of this.

Not that Simon would hurt you or his son, but he rarely takes any shit. This prank was a gamble, and you’re completely regretting it.

"Don't mean it, Dad."

Simon just stares for a long minute. His daughter squirms and that is when he glances down, severing the connection. Observing her must change something in him, because his gaze returns to the two of you, and there is a calmness now.

Sighing heavily, Simon shakes his head, completely exasperated. The eye roll is so apparent it’s like a shout.

In the moment he was pissed—livid. But now he’s over it, more annoyed and unamused than actually mad.

Turning on his heel, daughter still cradled in one arm, Simon returns to his recliner, settling back into the soft cushions to finish watching his rugby match.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus @beebeechaos

@no-oneelsebutnsu @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @spicyspicyliving @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep

@blackhawkfanatic @sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie

@kadeeesworld @umno-yeah @daemondoll @jackrabbitem @lxblm

@arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @ash-tarte @spookyscaryspoon @enarien

5K notes · View notes

yandere-romanticaa · 21 days ago

Note

Seen the request, so I shall deliver. Could you pls write a drabble or hcs of a yandere sunday with an isekaied reader?

Good timing because I'm actually planning a non yan isekai fic for him, I wonder if you saw that post. Here it is in case you haven't.

Sincerest apologies if this isn't the best, this fic is 100% emotionally charged by my obsession with him and frankly with a little bit of a high for passing a tricky exam. This is a treat for myself.

EDIT: Please check out this wonderful comic that @danijaci made me based off this fic!! 😭🫶

Picking up the cup from the fine oak table, you gazed towards the eerie galaxy before you, hundreds upon thousands of stars giving you a constant reminder of just how far from home you truly were. Taking a sip from the little porcelain cup you could not help but to hum in delight, the soft notes of the tea soothing your nerves ever so lightly as you pretended to ignore the heavy gaze which lingered at the back of your head.

Even from this distance, it was easy to tell that Sunday was eager to approach you. Still, he kept his distance and made a silent offering in the form of the very tea you drank at the moment.

Anything is better than Himeko's coffee but you were never going privy her to that.

In a not so distant past, all of this was nothing but fiction. The Express, the story, the characters - it was all nothing more but fiction, something to pass the time as your days went on and on, the same monotony repeating each and every day.

It was hard to not think about your friends and family, what sane person would not? Lord knows how they must be feeling right now, worried sick out of their minds with indescribable sorrow. In their eyes you had merely vanished, not a single trace to be found. For all they knew you could have been left for dead in a ditch somewhere, beaten, bloodied and broken, never to see the light again or if they were even more inclined to be morbid, you had succumbed to a fate worse than death. Death at the very least grants you finality, that all is over regardless of what happened moments prior.

But that was simply not the case for you.

Here you were, lounging about in a comfortable chair as you pondered on your old life while enjoying tiny little luxuries, far away where none of your loved ones could reach you. However, life was funny sometimes because it had some fun games in store.

Sunday was very kind upon arrival. He made sure to always be there for you, always checking up on you, always there to keep you company. You were already smitten with him but now to actually witness him in the flesh was just... Indescribable. You got along like a house on fire, so much so that the crew liked to tease that you ought to just get a room. Sunday, ever the gentleman, would just brush their words aside and assure you to not take their playful little jabs to heart.

You wouldn't say anything, resorting to merely giving him a smile but not because of what he said but rather of what he did not - never once did he actually shut down those perverse accusations. Never, not even once did he deny them.

He became an emotional crutch, someone to whom you would come running to when things got tough and he would always welcome you with open arms. Sunday would hold you tenderly, his serene voice dripping with honey along with a tender drop of ecstasy, for his excitement with holding you would just show itself sometimes. His grip would be too tight at certain moments, never quite ready to let you leave. His hugs were warm and comforting, he always smelled so good too. He smelled like kindness and sweet wildflowers, always lulling you back to him no matter the time. In dark corners and perhaps even under the watchful eyes of the crew, Sunday would wrap his scarf around your head, securing the soft fabric in order to provide you with a sense of comfort.

It was humiliating just how much you would try to inhale his scent as much as possible. You wanted it etched deep inside your memory, you wished for it to linger on your very soul and for it to follow you everywhere you went, sticking to your being like tar. The fabric of the scarf would muffle your ears a little but someone was always chatting in the background. Be it March bickering with Dan Heng, Mr Yang scolding someone for doing something they were not supposed to, or just Conductor Pom Pom trying to give a speech, all of it was irrelevant.

You were ready to kill whoever would try to pry you away from sweet Sunday. That thought came often which had left you worried - just what kind of person had you become? Regardless, you kept your mouth shut and had no plans of sharing such violent sentiments with anyone, particularly not to the one you held so dear.

When it was time to part for the evening you would bid the crew farewell and wished them a good night. You always made sure to take a few extra seconds with Sunday, just to ease your aching soul. He would tell you to sleep well and would see you in the morning, ready to take on any endeavor that crossed your paths.

As everyone parted ways, Sunday would wander off somewhere dark and distant, somewhere no one could see nor hear him. He would fall to his knees and clutch his chest in agony, fat tears streaming down his face as he did everything he possibly could to steady his raging heart. In a rush he would reach for the scarf which clung around his neck, his grip tighter than iron as he would bring it close to his nose. Taking a large, deep breath, Sunday was greeted by your familiar scent which would promptly calm his poor heart.

He sometimes wondered if his heart would start bleeding from the pain due to the sheer intensity of his emotions.

This was wrong, everything about this was not right and it hurt. Sunday was obviously ill but he had no clue on how to fight this... This emotion, this white hot feeling of need whenever you stood by his side. He started to choke on the air around him and fell into an abrupt coughing fit but even then, he could bring himself to remove the scarf from the lower part of his face.

Sunday wept and sobbed, filthy snot coming out from his nose but he could not handle that now. He needed you, Oh Heavenly Aeons, how he needed you. However was he going to tell you how he felt? How, oh how was he going to express the sheer magnitude of his true thoughts? He would scare you off, he was sure of it.

Even with this pain, even with these clipped wings and bleeding heart, Sunday had never felt so alive, so harrowingly present in the moment whenever he was with you.

Perhaps, he was doing himself a kindness by just letting you be. Drink your tea, be at peace.

He can always just make you another cup if you so desired.

Without knowing, you both haunted each other in the most agonizing way known to mankind and neither was strong enough to face the reality of the situation.

2K notes · View notes

solardrop · 6 months ago

Text

beanstalk.

aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader

summary: a loser at the local pub thinks spencer is your boyfriend. Aaron drags him. tags: fluff. creepy men being creepy. body shaming (of spencer I'm so sorry). spencer just catching strays in general. word count: ~1.7k a/n: based on an ask. I was gonna just write my thoughts or a short 500 word drabble or something but then ended up writing this until the point I forced myself to just end it lmao. I think it gets a bit convoluted and cringe at the end but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ it was fun! not proofread. divider cred @/cafekitsune

The pub was going to the rue the day they made half-off appetizers their weekly special.

The team squeezed in two pushed-together tables and binged on the greasy delights. you and Spencer had gotten into sharp back and forth about the apocalypse on the way there, which earned the both of you a quick banishing to a corner of the table where the rest of the team wouldn’t be subject to your bickering.

You rest your head against the cool concrete pillar you were sandwiched against. A table pressed against a half-wall facing outdoors was a hard sell to a bunch of field agents. However, Penelope’s animated declaration for the team to ‘live a little’ —specifically, to do so before Rossi got any greyer— landed you a wonderful view of the outdoors. You could watch all the homey, drunken people sway to the music flowing from the patio. The crisp night air flushes the overwhelming smell of burnt grease away from your nose. Maybe you could convince Hotch to grab a window seat for some date nights, you have to admit, the vibes were growing on you. While you enjoy poking the brain of your younger genius friend, you miss the solid warmth of Aaron beside you. Thankfully, he opted to sit in front of you instead.

You took the opportunity to tease him. You kick him playfully under the table, stealing his attention away from the conversation he is having with Derek. He turns to squint at you for a moment, only to grab your food to sandwich it between the wall and his thigh in retaliation. His fingers drum a steady rhythm against your ankle, the ticklish tap tap tap making you squirm. You motion to ensnare his ankle with your other leg when Spencer turns to point his flimsy white plastic fork at you.

“If emergency services were still in full effect during the zombie apocalypse, there would be a drastic increase in the number of people infected and a significant loss in—”

“A significant loss in medical supplies. Spoken like a true prepper Reid. What's next, gonna tell me about the importance of learning how to pickle your own food for rationing?”

“Actually, during the Great Depression housewives pickles things that lasted their families almost—”

His impending rant is cut short by the return of your server. Anticipating the bill, Rossi reached for his wallet before the woman shakes her head at him. Instead, sliding a drink and a folded up napkin on the table and nodding her head at you.

“For the lovely young miss by the window.” She flashes a smile at you, “One of our lovely patons seems to fancy you.”

All eyes snap to you, all the color draining from your face as you stare down at the offending item. The drink was almost glowing at you, bright pink glitter swirling in the liquid with pink gummy hearts floating at the top and crystal sugar bedazzling the rim. There was no way this was actually something for the human body to consume. Even Penelope’s brows raised in shock at its extreme display.

You glance at Hotch, his leg picking up a steady bounce next to yours after the waitresses revelation. His face is hardened, jaw rocking back and forth as he glares at the folded paper next to the drink. You clear your throat and face the woman again.

“Can you tell me who sent this?”

She juts her sharp chin over your head towards one of the outdoor tables. Hotch’s neck cranes around before your own, and you lock eyes with an older man sitting a few tables down. His face was unpleasantly square, the outdated sandy mullet crowning his head doing him no favors either. He raises his beer bottle towards you with a wink. You shiver, scooting closer to Spencer when the admirer hauls himself out of his stool to stride towards you. Aaron has turned almost fully towards outside now, his brow raised.

“Ohh this is gonna be good,” JJ whispers from the other side of Reid. The comment earns her a sharp glare from Hotch, a blush burning in her cheeks as she goes back to nursing her cheeto-crusted mozzarella sticks.

“I just don’t understand,” Spencer starts, “There are seven other people at this table including men at this table why would he be bold enough to-”

A sharp knock sounder off the ledge of the short wall.

“Well, hello darlin’. I don’t mean to interrupt the dinner with your friends here, Hello friends, m’ names Miles!” He flashed his eyes around the table with a toothy, mustached smile.

“But i couldn’t help but see your pretty little face in this window ‘ere and I had to buy ya’ a drink!”

“Ah… Thank you but um-”

“Don’t even sweat it beautiful!” Small specs of saliva fly from his mouth, causing even Spencer to jump back pulling on the hem of your shirt. As if to use you as a human shield from the germs the man was spewing in his general direction. Hooray. Your hero.

“I even wrote my number on that there lil’ napkin for ya’. My momma raised a gentleman, so I gotta buy you more than a lil liquor before I take you down.” His beady eyes shoot down to your cleavage before snapping back to your face, licking his lip.

The fingers on your ankles pause at this. Aaron stares down the side of the mans face, lips pressd into a fine line spread across his face. You decide to jump in before your boyfriend takes it upon himself to tear the mystery man a new one.

“Listen, I appreciate the sentiment but, I’m here to have dinner with my friends and my boyfriend so… I could pay you back for the drink? No harm done-”

“Boyfriend!?” He steps back, eyes scanning the table once more before landing on Spencer and snorting.

“This lil’ stringbean? You can’t possibly be serious” He smiles at Spencer before he continues “Jack and the beanstalk here could barely muscle steel so ya’ll stuck him with plastic,” He waves a crooked finger aimlessly around the table, “And you expect me to believe he’s wrangling a fine figure like yourself down every night?”

That seems to hit a sore spot for Reid, who finally peeps his head from around you. He takes the moment to ramble about the millions of germs and pathogens that could be found on community utensils even after a full wash cycle. Much to the dismay of the creep and team alike, so much so that Derek had to nudge him with his foot. With the conclusion of Spencer’s monologue the man continues

“Anyways, darlin’ for one night let me take you for a spin. Lil' boy like that won't do ya' any good. I promise you only a bigger, older man knows how to really take care of someone crafted as fine as you.” His eyes lower to your chest again and stay there.

“I assure you she already knows that,” Aaron spits.

Your eyes snap to his face. He seemd deceptively calm now, his expression almost bored.

“Pardon?” Miles asks, half-heartedly turning his body towards him.

“I’ll put it like this for you Miles. Stringbean over here isn’t her boyfriend,” Spencer begins to squeak out in opposition to his new pet name, but Hotch’s voice bellows out above his own, “I know you’re pathetic, that was apparent from the moment you walked up here puffing your chest after buying the cheapest drink on the menu as a gift. But I’m almost surprised you made your impotence so obvious too, considering you made eye contact with everyone you view as non threatening, the women, the man in his late years, the kid.”

Aaron lazily cocks his head towards Morgan, “But not me and my friend here in the corner. But I’m sure you thought you got away with that. Now, I’d suggest you move. The cologne you sprayed to mask the smell of Motel 8 is starting to wear off.”

Your ears warm at his words. Every sharp word honeyed by his calm, almost sweet tone. He spoke as if he was reading the well thought out profile of an elusive crimminal instead of just some ass in a sit down. God you wanted to kiss him. He’d have to let team politics go just this once right? Just a thank you peck.

Before you can move to move ask him for one, Miles sputters out, “Talkin’ to me like I’m some dumbass— Who the hell d’ya think you are man!?”

Each syllable causes a spray of spit to launch out his mouth, forcing you to scoot even closer to spencer to evade the line of fire. His face shines with sweat and grease, red rising from his shirt collar as he barks at Hotch’s words.

“I’m her man. Her bigger, older man. But I’m sure you already knew that, since you still refuse to look at me.” Aaron reaches down into his pockets, flipping out his credentials with deft fingers, “And I’m also an agent. As is everyone at the table including the woman you’ve spent the past several minutes sexually harassing.” He scowls, “Now, go sit down and shut the hell up.”

Miles' eyes finally rip away from you to meet his now. The angered flush erupts across his whole body now. He opens his mouth several times before closing it again, iced out by the cold stare Hotch gives him. He turns on his heel and marches back to his table without a fight. He sniffs his collar before jumping back in clear disgust.

A beat passes and the whole table erupts into laughter at the absurd happenings. Aaron’s face softens, still frowning in the general direction of the slimy man. Jolting when Derek claps him on the back and shakes him in praise.

“Alright Hotch! Racing to defend your girl, I didn’t know you had it like that!”

“Well, I’m not surprised,” You stretch across the table to grasp his hand, kissing his knuckles before he could protest. He envelopes your hand in both of his and gives you a warm smile, “my man is my hero in and out of the field.” He breathes out a laugh, knocking his knee against yours for your teasing.

“Next time, you and String Bean get into it, we’re doing a different seating arrangement.”

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #hotch #criminal minds #aaron hotch x reader #mine

3K notes · View notes