#god. at least not yet. maybe just parts in a few months

[celia-006]

Your Lieutenant... Ghost x reader

Jubilant laughter rang through the halls as you made your way to the mess hall. You’d initially thought, perhaps they were planning something for you, as it was your 26th birthday. That assumption had rang through your mind all day, you’d thought about what they might’ve planned. Maybe a small gathering at the local pub a couple minutes from base. Maybe just a simple few beers in the mess hall. You were a woman in the military for christ's sake, you were easy to please. And, of course it wasn’t unthinkable to assume that your team of two years would remember your birthday? Your team- the group of men you bled with, killed with, hell, killed for. Being the only woman, let alone only sniper, on the task force wasn’t easy. It came with many men underestimating your talents, for the longest time no one really trusted you. But overtime, you earned everyone’s respect and their friendship.

While you had to win over most of your team's favor, Lieutenant Lieutenant Simon “Ghost” Riley, was on your side from day one, not that he’d ever let you know that. For the first couple months you thought he hated your ass, but in reality, it was quite the opposite. While he kept his affinity for you hidden, he of course acted like he despised you. It was easier for all parties. Emotions complicate things, make his life harder. He first saw you, when you were in a training room with three other recruits, all male. They were your rivals for the Task Force position you currently occupy. You were just a tyke compared to the fucking weapon you are now. And that was what…three years ago? They had you cornered, practically hazing you, titling you the “barracks bunny.” He never could stand for sexism in the military, let alone in his own fucking base. Whilst he was just about to step in, you threw a deadly right hook and one of the recruits fell to the ground. Followed by loud shrieks of pain as you broke ribs and sent teeth flying. Of course he knew you weren’t a damsel, you had made it as far as being a recruit for his infamous task force. He only had to step in when you had your boot to that scrawny rookie’s neck. Grinning menacingly as his blood dripped down your face. That was the minute he knew, you were getting the fucking job. 

Truly, he’d never seen a damn recruit that… deadly. With a fire in them like he did you. Not that he’d ever let you know that he admired your boldness, as far as you’d known for the longest time he thought you were an arrogant idiot. That day, about an hour after he practically had to pull you off of those sexist pigs, you got the job. And for the next year you’d trained with him. Every. Single. Damn. Day. Up at 0500, followed by a three mile run with the lieutenant. Then a prompt breakfast, succeeded by intensive hand-to-hand combat training. Sparring with him always ended up with the both of you sweaty, heaving chest to chest. Him usually on top, because of course he had to best you at every damn thing. At least that was the case for the first month. But of course you’re a damn quick learner, and while you seldom got him pinned, you sure as hell made him work for it. After four hours of combat training, you had artillery training with Soap and Konig. One of the easiest parts of your day, you’d thought. It was easy, besting a colonel and Soap, watching their faces drop as a woman outperformed them. It was also one of Ghost’s favorite parts of the day. Because he could watch you from afar. Of course some of his tendencies are a bit.. off. He loves to observe you. When you’re in your element, shooting. It’s like it’s just you and that gun, he swears to god. The way your eyes dial in to the target, delicate, yet strong hands gripping the gun. What would your hands have looked like gripping something els- ”Doesn’t matter, never’l happen, he’d always told himself.”

After that first year of intensive work and training, you’d earned your callsign, among the TF141 and it’s enemies, Apex. You’d obtained a kill count that almost rivaled Konig’s himself. Which absolutely killed him, but of course he loved ya. You and Ghost had grown close though, as it was coming up on year two with the task force. The proximity of training had done something to him. Seeing your chest heave with exertion, your beautiful skin glistening in sweat. Eyes locked in determination. Your only goal to knock him on his ass, which you did, of course. Eventually things had grown close enough to call you “love.” First time he did it in front of the boys, Soap snorted beer out of his damn nose in shock. Yet, none of them commented on it. Ghost had plenty of women to warm his bed occasionally. In uniform and civilians, but they were all… stress relief. They knew their lieutenant, and understood this was a different dynamic. The first time he called you love, was after you’d taken a bullet for him, about a month into your official entrance to the force. He was fucking enraged that you’d done such a thing. Called you a “fucking moron, damned idiot,” shouted at you, “how’d you even survive this long if you’re that damn dense?” It made absolutely no sense to him why you’d try to protect him. He almost wanted to push you away, to Antartica. He couldn’t have someone try to save him. He was beyond redemption. While there was tension from that sacrifice you’d made for him, it had faded into a comfortable pattern. Training, silent meals together, bickering here and there. Being on his six on all missions. You were his eyes, the whole team's eyes. You kept your boys safe. God you loved every minute of it. 

And now look at you, freshly 26 and they forgot your damn birthday. Moreso, he forgot your damn birthday. The laughter of the boys grew louder as you pushed open the rusty door to the mess hall. They were all sitting at the usual spots around the circular table. Cards and poker chips strewn across the table, cigar smoke floating around the group. This was the usual, normal weekend at base. It helped you all unwind and relax. Except right now there was a goddamn gaping hole in your heart the size of Alaska. A girl sat beside Ghost. She had on a private’s uniform… what the fuck was a damn rookie doing at the task force’s Saturday night poker? You put on a happy face, sure they forgot your birthday. It’s alright, you’re the idiot for assuming that shit, right? “Whose this lass right here, boys?” you ask in the most chipper tone you could muster. Even though you felt like going to the shooting range and brooding all night, you wouldn’t. Price answered, “This right here is the new addition to the force.” He sounded almost prideful. Generally, you expected more notice on decisions like this. Today was like being in the fucking twilight zone, everything was on it's head. The girl looked up at you, and gave a pearly white grin as she sat thigh to thigh with the lieutenant. It made no damn sense why this was the first you had heard of her.

What the hell was up with that? He never let anyone that close. You once saw him deck an orderly for accidentally bumping into him. Accidently. God, what a shit day. “Name’s Anya,” she introduced, with a kind of confidence typically reserved for more seasoned soldiers such as yourself. “Apex,” you replied, with no real hospitality except for a reserved smile you gave in return. Only Price and Ghost knew your real name. Anya had blue eyes, and blond hair. Pale, porcelain doll skin. She looked like she could be one of those American sorority girls, or perhaps an actress. It wasn’t the fact that there was a new woman on the task force, a lot of times you missed having other girls around. Hell, it wasn’t even the fact that they’d randomly mentioned this one day out of fucking nowhere. It wasn’t even the fact that they forgot your birthday… for the most part. It was the way the little blonde was nustled into Ghost’s side like they were fucking. She looked like a doe, defenseless, cute, even. Was that really his type? Soft women. That sure as fuck wasn’t you. You were coarse, prone to anger. Rough on the outside. Scarred, inside and out. Was unmaimed women his type? At that thought you felt the pit in your chest turn into a void. It couldn’t even justify what you felt for Ghost to call it love, or a crush, or any stupid shit like that.

You’d die for him. You knew that. Price, Gaz, Soap knew it. Ghost knew it, even though he fucking hated it. Yet here you were, sitting across from Anya and Ghost. Jaw locked, teeth gritting letting your fingernails embed crescents into your palm. Anymore and it’d draw blood. You couldn’t even remember what Price said Anya’s specialty was. Sure, she was probably good at it considering she’d made it to this caliber of operations. But she would never be on your level. Yet here she was cozy with Ghost. Did they know each other before this? Why didn’t Ghost ever mention her? 

You looked closer at Anya, noticing her touchiness with the boys. The way she threw her head back when she laughed. She seemed right at home here. This all broke you. Forgetting your birthday. Her being so close to Ghost. For christssake, you were a sniper, fucking act like it, you told yourself. Generally, you'd never let relations among damn men bother you. You'd come out of burning buildings more unscathed than this. Anya perked up as she observed your downcast gaze. Suddenly the corner of Anya’s plush lips turn up in a malicious smirk. She didn’t have good intentions with what was about to come out of her mouth. You knew it immediately. Wolf in sheep's clothing, damn she was good. Her little doe-eye act didn’t work on you. “What’s your real name, Apex?” Of course she knew the black ops courtesy. You don’t get to know your mates real names until you earn your own damn callsign. Callsigns kept people safe, and were signs of respect. Soap just didn't care that people knew his real name. And only you and Price knew Ghost's real name.

Price looked at her almost pitifully, assuming she didn’t know the unspoken rule. You replied to her, “You’ll learn that, if you earn your own callsign.” Soap choked on his beer a little bit. He let out an amused chuckle but added nothing to the verbal brawl that was about to ensue. While you were utterly devoted to Ghost in the most subtle yet unspeakable ways, you and Soap had grown a comfortable friendship. More like siblings, truly. Something about that dumb fucking mohawk and accent you could barely understand made you want to hit and simultaneously protect him.

Ghost stares at you, with something you couldn’t quite put your tongue on. Not that you wouldn’t mind putting your tongue on- Fuck it didn’t matter. Not with this shitty dynamic and this bitch drooling all over him. 

“Wha's got ye in a knot, bird?” Soap had whispered quietly, which was unlike him. Because he was so fucking loud all the time, but he sensed the change in your disposition. He knew this was hurting you. Knew that seeing this new girl with Ghost was like a knife to your heart. He didn’t know about your birthday though. No one did. You ignored Soap’s concern and simply observed. It was like a silent conversation between you and Ghost. A dance between you two, a silent push and pull. You felt like you were being dangled off a building. A rope slowly breaking as you swayed to getting close to him. Just for him to push you away. But how much is he willing to give? 

Usually, you were so fucking loud you put Soap to shame at these little gatherings. But, of course today was different. “Everyone tells me that you’re such a bloody life of the party but you seem different today!” Anya commented in a patronizing tone. Your knuckles turned white as you gripped your glass of whiskey, and said nothing. All other conversation ceased as the boys zero in on the tension between you and Anya. Ghost, more so than the rest of them, focuses on your reaction. “You don’t need to concern yourself with anything about me, doe.” you retort.

Alcohol…anger…jealousy. Not a good mix with you. Ghost sure as hell knew that when he had to pull your ass off of a couple lads and lasses multiple times.  She grins even more, “Come on, there’s gotta be something that got your knickers in a twist, girl to girl tell m-” 

You sit the glass of whiskey down with an eerie calmness. With the kind of solemn, yet deadly attitude you only reserved for the field. 

“My team forgot my birthday.” Might as well get it in the open. She was reveling in your brooding anyway. 

“Apex, world renowned Apex, bothered when her little team forgets her birthday,” She jeers. She had some nerves. Kinda balls that a lot of men never had. You liked that about her, maybe in another life you’d be the one to train her because of that fire in her. But, that reality would never come true. You wanted to strangle her. And maybe you'd do it.

She expected you to storm off, to shout, or yell. But instead, you grin. Fucking hell, Ghost thought, she’s gonna deck her. He’d seen you fight enough to know when you were about to spill blood. And at that thought, he sees a blond ponytail slam against the ground. 

He absolutely hated the girl, and thinks Price made a mistake. She was overconfident, and was bad at hand-to-hand. Only thing she had goin’ for her was her technology skills. He wanted to make you feel jealous, and she was perfect to use. After what happened last week, he was desperate for anything to get your attention. As much as he’d hate to admit it. You were spending too much time with Soap. 

Blood spills against the ground, sure as hell not your blood. You’ve her knee to her throat when Price finally pulls you off of her. “Come on ‘Pex she dinnae mean it.” Soap says. You finally let your shoulders relax. Ghost just stares, He found your reaction amusing of course. Especially when you bend down in Anya’s ear, “stay away from my lieutenant.” He was close enough where he could hear your whispered threat. Also close enough to see Anya’s face turn white as a damn ghost. You stood up and brushed yourself off, offering an unsympathetic apology to Price for causing a scene. Soap had a shit eating grin at the sight he just saw, you rarely lost your shit, except for now of course. 

You looked up at everyone, surprised at the sight of what you did. Embarrassed that they forgot your birthday. You try to let those emotions roll off of you. Like you always have. Just a job, you told yourself. Should’ve expected such, they’re just my coworkers at the end of the day, you repeated. It just stung, worse than a bullet wedging between your ribs. No family. No friends outside of them. And they forgot. It was like a cancer that had taken root in your brain, everytime you thought about how Ghost was letting Anya touch him, not to mention forgetting your birthday. You sigh, grabbing a beer out of the fridge and made your way to the porch. 

The cool air was like a soothing blanket against your heated face. You stared into the night, and wondered what was staring back. You mainly thought about Ghost. He’d really been avoiding you these past couple weeks truly. Yes, it was true that your one-on-one training had been over. Maybe it was that time you’d been so close to nudging his mask up. And it scared the shit out of him. So, you’d hung around Soap more. And of course, the hell that went on in the mess hall today was the first you’d seen of the lieutenant all week. 

You, too, had your fair share of men. None good enough to keep. Just stress relief. Unbeknownst to you, Ghost knew every one of their names. Even the meaningless one night stands. He knew their ranks. What division they were in. How good of a fighter. All of them were just boys in his opinion, not able to give you what you really needed. But then again, could he have even provided that? He just needed to be with you from afar. He’d settle with it, or at least tried to. The close quarters training was torture. Getting to know you was like torture. Having your curves memorized was torture. The sound of your heavy pants brought him to insanity. But it was also the closest to heaven he’d ever gotten.He wanted to run his rough fingers over every one of your many scars and trace them. He wanted to demand to know where they were from. Who gave them to you so he could do a lot more than maim. Wanted to trace them with his tongue too. Wanted to know every inch of your body by touch, taste, and smell. He was a primal man, after all. And he needed you. The way his heart raced when you were so close to pulling his mask up. He was about to let you. He hated the way warmth pooled in his stomach. Despised the way that nasty fuzzy feeling embedded itself in his brain. Loathed the way you were in his dreams. In the nightmares, too of course, where you would die in his arms. However, there was something so much more excruciating. You avoided him. So of course he went to drastic measures like letting that awful little blond drool over him. 

After an hour of thinking about how you called him “your lieutenant,” which was still so fucking crazy, he decided to come outside. You knew he was coming just by the quiet footsteps. He just stood behind you, letting only his presence interrupt the silence of the night. You could feel his eyes trail over your form. You loved it, of course you loved it. You knew his smell. The musky vanilla, with notes of cigarette, sweat, gunpowder, and cologne. What you’d give to smell that cologne on him fresh out the shower. That would never happen… right? You were just stuck with this god awful, sour feeling rotting inside you.“Didn’t think she was your type, LT.” you admit, breaking the silence at its creases. He takes a second to let out a gruff reply, “Didn’t think you’d care.”

You look over your shoulder to look at him, “you forgot my fuckin’ birthday, ‘course I care.” The whiskey loosened your tongue, you’d have never said that sober. You stand up, silently taking him in. The way the moonlight made a glow around his sillhouette. His imposing form, that should've screamed "don't fuck with me," but all you heard was "fuck me." Yeah the alcohol really loosened a lot of things... didn't it. You drunk in his body like he was cool oasis and you were thirsting to death. He saw the way you looked at him, too. He knew you were going to be his ruin. The reckoning. 

He retorted, rather coldly, but laced with another emotion you couldn’t quite identify. “She was right ‘bout one thing, y’know. Don’t know why this is such a big deal.” He fucking goaded you. You stepped closer, eyes tracing the way his lips encase the cigarette he’s smoking. Seemed like a sin just to watch, hell, he was sin himself. 

There was one thing that pissed him off more than the attitude you threw around. Albeit it did amuse him generally. It was when you turned cold. When you avoided him, of course like you were this past week. You had willed your eyes to turn darker, with a somber expression.  “You’re right, I should not have crossed that boundary. Apologie-” He interrupts you. Gruff, coarse voice imposing on you, “Now don’t give me that bullshit birdie. This bothered you didn’ it?” You could swear he almost smirked. He needed to be bathed in that fire you had that he loved so much. Even if it was from making you pissed.

He fucking enjoyied this. What a damn sadist. Did he just enjoy playing with your emotions? You sigh and take a step back, “You’re fucking reveling this aren’t you?! Now I knew those boys are frothing out of the mouth cause they’d fuck anything that walks, but I didn’t know you were like th-” He takes a step closer and presses a gloved finger to your lips. “Jealous, are you darling? Y’ know it’s all fun and games.” You push his shoulder to put some distance between you two. “Ah fuck you, god you’re such a dick.” Your chest heaves with anger and disappointment whilst your skin craves his touch. His blond eyelashes flutter as his honeyed eyes stay glued to yours. Eye contact was his thing, damnnit. It was unnerving and hot at the same time.

He leans down to your ear, “Tell me, what was it you said to her before ya’ got off her?” Y “The fuck does it matter?” You spout angrily. You knew he heard every word you said. You just wanted him to hurt like he hurt you. 

“Of course it damn well matters, you called me your lieutenant.” There were only centimeters between the both of you. You could feel his breath hit your skin, how it danced across your face. Unknown to you, your display of possession meant everything to him. No one had ever claimed him like you did. Not that it meant that much to you, he guesses. Of course he was Ghost, La fantasma, бугимен, and the embodiment of nightmares. He had a deep bond with all of the task force. They respected him. Understood him, even. But they never really claimed him like you did. And this killed him, not knowing if you really meant it. You were dangerous, you were ruining him. And he couldn’t help but want to be ruined. He'd atone at your altar. Worship you, if you'd only let him.

You didn't budge, but kept the tantalizing proximity from his masked face. Wishing he’d just take it off. “Fine, I take it back, it was the heat of the moment. Now go fuck her and leave me alone I’m sure she’s waiting.” In the blink of an eye he shoved you against the wall. By God, you knew how to piss him off. Hands pinned you on both sides while a knee wedged between your hips to prevent movement. He knew you felt something, knew you did. He knew this would be bad for both of you. Sure, he felt bad he forgot your birthday. But he’d make it up. He’d be so good. So good to you. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up. God, the fuckin’ mouth you have,” he says, tracing your lips with his fingers. That made you dead quiet, the way everywhere he touched left your skin on fire. Made heat shoot down to your very core. 

He looked at you in a way you’d never seen him look at anyone before. Hungry, starved, but laced with a masochistic restraint, that was barely tethering him to his sanity.The eye black around his eyes made it seem even more sensual. Something dark in him that was going to claim you. You needed it so bad. While he was masked, his eyes had said everything that needed to be said. You knew he wanted you, but you were still hurting. You two were perfect in the sense of miscommunication. Likely stemming from rather terrible childhoods. You stayed silent, and let his fingers rest against your lips. “You don’t make any sense.” You said quietly. More like a statement than a jab against him. He was back and forth, with you and against you. Like he was tugging you along just to leave you. While sure you were deadly as hell, smart, and observant, when it came to love you were more clueless than a teenage girl. To be fair it was always difficult for you to imagine what love was. Something fabricated. Made for valentines day. It seemed like a myth or folklore. Or like something everyone else had but you weren’t allowed to have. And that didn’t bother you. Deep down on an atom-based level, what you’d felt for Simon Riley extended much farther than any language. 

He lets out a humourless scoff, “I know. Love, believe me I know, but you aren’t exactly clear y’self.” You roll your eyes, of course he would turn the argument back on you, it was practically his signature move. Yet this bickering only made the heat ignite into full on flames between you both. “Oh fuck y-” He clamped a hand over your mouth, not forcefully, but with a firmness that made you quiet. “Aye now don’t go pullin’ that shit. You’re over here runnin’ that mouth to Soap. Ya’ don’t train with me much no more and you talk to those fuckin’ sargeants.” He scoffs, as his mouth sits next to your neck, “even though I taught you everythin’ you know.” His coarse voice, partly from the cigarettes, sent chills down your spine. It was like you had just been dunked in a cooler of ice. 

The rough, gritty voice hardened from years of the military is the only thing that lulled you back to your faculties, "Don’t play a damn fool, lass. You know what you mean to me. You think I devote that much time to just any recruit? Think I train ‘em for fuckin’ years? Teach ‘em everything I know? Nearly go into a fit of rage slaughtering when they get shot on a mission?” He looked away in a failed attempt to maintain his stoic facade. But you could see through it, he knew you could. That was part of why he liked you so much, loved, really, but he wasn’t ready to admit that to himself. “Lass, I didn’ know what would get your attention. You’ve avoided me like I’m the goddamn plague. Doesna bother me that the base does that. The fear, the respect, it’s good. But when you avoid me, it- its-”

For the first time Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley could not finish a sentence. He fucking stutters. “So you let that little doe drool all over you.” You interrupt as a statement. Angrily. With that fire in your eyes that makes everything in him harden just looking at you. He swears to whatever god will listen, when it came to you he was like a pubescent boy all over again. After hand-to-hand sessions, which always ended up sweaty and pressed up against one another, he always had to make multiple trips to the bathroom to… relieve himself. It was like you were a fucking succubus, he’d always thought. 

You could tell he was amused by your anger the way his mask creased and the way his honey brown eyes lit up. “Sure as hell worked, yeah?” He said in that sultry, practically sinful tone. It was insane, the way just his voice sent energy straight to your core. You had to crane your neck to really look at him, but he was pressed against the crook of your jaw and shoulder. So you felt him. Felt all of him. Felt how he needed you as it brushed against your stomach. It sent jolts of electricity shooting through your very being. The heat of his breath against the side of your jaw made your skin feel like it was on fire. “If I remember correctly, I’m your lieutenant. Or care to repeat it? Memory’s a little dull.”

Ghost wasn’t ever touch starved, he made sure he had plenty of “stress relief,” as he’d call it .Plenty of bonnie lasses warm his bed, in at night out swiftly in the morning. Like clockwork. Always kept his mask on while taking them from the back. It was just to relieve his stress, there was never any true openness. He knew those women would run when he revealed himself. He always felt like a wolf in sheep's clothing when out in the civilian world. Even at base too. He felt alienated, like an unwilling monster. When people got too close, bad things happened. Or, so he thought. He knew he was absolutely fucked because when he’d fantasize about you, all he wanted to do was let you rip the mask off. Let your soft hands trace over his rough skin.

You could sense the change in him. The deep look in his eyes, as if he was trying to memorize you. As if he was counting every freckle and blemish. Branding it in his mind, he was your lieutenant. He wanted to swallow you whole. Crawl inside you. Have you crawl inside him. If you were a flame he'd walk in with a smile on his face. If you were a sea he'd drown a happy man. Whatever his sorry life was, would be bearable as long as you were in it.

“Your lieutenant, huh?” He repeated gruffly. “Did ya mean that?” He never wanted to admit it, but his heart raced in anticipation. It was like his whole body was pulsing with a need only you could satisfy.

“How do I know this isn’t just for your amusement Simon?” you asked softly. He betrayed nothing as he yanked your hand and placed it over his racing heart.  It was going 90 miles a fucking minute. “Ya think I’m lyin’ love?” He was almost challenging you to question his honesty again. 

You had nothing to say to that. To his proclamations. You knew he wasn’t lying. There was literally nothing in your mind. But him. His face. His voice. His hands. God, his fucking hands. They were against your hips, right now. Practically burning himself against you.

“You aren’t lying.” 

His crows feet crinkled, he let out a low laugh, “No. Couldna if I tried.” 

Your head was spinning, you couldn’t decide if it was from the previous events of this night, the whiskey, your lieutenant, or a combination of all three. Along with the dizziness from the proximity to Ghost, it came with a boldness.

You took your fingers to his face, and pulled his mask up to his nose. This time he let you instead of swatting you away like he did last time. He had a cleft lip scar, you’d never guessed. His lips plump, a mauve pink, he had pale skin. Even his damn lips and chin… they were beautiful to you. 

His breath hitched as you raked your fingers across his lips. He was nervous you’d find the cleft lip scar ugly. He did, it was part of why he loved his mask. However, you looked at him with amazement. Like he was the only fuckin man on earth. And dammit if he didn’t love it while it scared the shit out of him at the same time. 

“Love,” he whispered hoarsely. You were his vice, his tether to earth. His damnation and redemption. He knew, at that moment, he’d start a war for you. With you. Against you. Whatever you wanted as long as you were involved. He’d let you do what you wanted with him. Love him, hate him. It would kill him if you were indifferent, like you were this past week. 

He couldn’t take it anymore. Being so close to you, to your lips. To your skin. Generally he wouldn’t call himself impatient, but he needed to taste you. He slammed his lips against yours. He tasted like whiskey, cigars, and everything you ever needed. His tongue grazed your teeth begging for entrance while his hands pawed at your ass. Breathy moans escaped him, reverberating across your skin. “Fuck…” he let out. He was never a moaner, always the quiet grunter, a gruff sigh when he finished. But by god you made him… a mess.  You made him a mess. Afterall, he was your lieutenant though.

This is edited and left at a better note. Also because I suck at writing freaky and ending stuff.

I am so so so sorry. 

I just saw a post on tumblr that said rather create something than let it rot, to matter how embarrassing it is. 

Hence this. 

[lordsardine]

.

[somnoir]

Bats and Phantoms - Part 5

Part 4 | Masterpost

Jason and Phantom

Danny has noticed a pattern ever since he punched the Joker to death.

He's lost multiple things over the course of the past few weeks. Once, his laptop was smashed to bits during an attack by Bane (he really should have Tucker reinforce all his electronics). The next day, there was a new Wayne tech laptop on his counter.

When he visited his favorite cafe, his usual orders were paid for the next month. The barista refused to tell him who bought his month's supply of Living Dead. She was smiling a little too much in his opinion (he'd have to ask Tucker for a background check on Chelsea now. He liked her, but damn him if she was working with the crime lord.)

Danny knows very well that Gothamites either mug people or get mugged. And yet for the entire time, he hasn't gone through that BS... At all. It's almost nice.

He's done his best not to get caught up with the Bats, except for the fucking Red Hood. He tries to stay low, knowing that the Bats—especially Batman—was very strict on his no-kill-rule. Red Hood in the other hand... Unfortunately, he can't escape the bastard if all he wants to do is follow Danny around and gift him the most random shit. But if he's gonna deal with the Red Hood, then he's going to use it for good.

In other words, he was going to let the man feed him with godly food that he'd never been able to have. Danny's a decent cook but the Red Hood was almost godly when it came to cooking.

"You're never gonna leave me alone?" Danny doesn't even turn away from his laptop once he hears Red Hood slip into his apartment, shamelessly crawling through his window. He's so fucking sure there's a bunch of containers in his arms or maybe a reusable bag, but there's a bunch of containers. Filled with food.

"Someone's gotta keep you fed." Red Hood softly hums, passing Danny from where he was sitting on his floor while his dry eyes were watching instruction videos. By this point, Hood might be playing Tetris in his fridge with the containers. (Danny hopes there's chicken in there)

He doesn't move, doesn't want to.

Red Hood pokes his cheek.

Danny grunts in reply.

His cheek is poked again.

He might just bite the guy's hand off.

"Go away."

"Eat and then sleep."

"Perish."

"C'mon now, darling. You gotta take a break or whatever the hell you're studying for will go away."

"I will stab you."

But apparently, Red Hood isn't intimidated by his threats, already picking out one of the containers, heating it up, and then proceeding to make Danny suffer from the scent of something chicken. He's so hungry, he's sleepy, but he has exams! He has deadlines! A part of him wanted this handsome and sexy crime lord to pamper him but he'd drown in that contaminated ecto (Lazarus) than admit it.

And then his laptop is confiscated by a crime lord. Danny suddenly finds himself sitting on the Red Hood's lap and being forced to eat. At least the man isn't feeding Danny himself.

He was just enjoying the chicken casserole, sleepily trying not to stab a fork into his mouth while Red Hood has his hands on Danny's waist, caressing and cooing at him to keep eating.

The next day, he wakes up in his bed, tucked in, and the scent of freshly made coffee from his kitchen.

(God, his siblings are going to make fun of him for this)

Jason likes Danny. He'd actually tell himself that he legitimately adores the tired and unhinged college student. He wants that crazy little shit like he's gonna blow up the world if he doesn't. Because he wasn't just Joker's killer. Danny Fenton unknowingly became Jason Todd's avenger, the one person to actually avenge the second Robin. And he's just...

The infatuation would have been almost selfish, if not for the fact that Jason grew to actually fall for Danny after making sure the young man was okay. He's done his best to keep Danny away from the Bats. He didn't need Batman fucking this up for him.

Danny was so... strange. In a good and endearing way. He was dedicated to his studies, and tried to live his life but helped when he could. He's seen Danny stop by crime alley a couple of times just to help feed the kids, just to hand over blankets and what seemed to be his old clothes that nobody would be wearing. He was kind, and brutal if he wanted to be. Aside from the Joker, Jason had witnessed Danny almost drown a man for trying to kidnap a meta child in the same alley. The bastard was left for dead but survived when someone dragged him out.

Oh, Jason was in love. Horrifically so.

Honestly, he was kinda screwed at this point.

He's pretty happy that he doesn't share a class with Danny. If he did, he might not be able to focus on the lecture knowing that the very thing that calms the pits inside him was so close. The possibility of getting lulled into sleep was pretty high. But their schedules didn't even align and he barely saw Danny on campus. But he'd be lying if he wasn't trying to catch a small glimpse of him.

It's one of those days that he doesn't try looking for Danny when he's got some papers for Lit. But this was different.

Riddler is a maniac, even when he tries to be harmless. Anyone who failed to solve his riddles sometimes got blown up. Gotham U ends up becoming one of his targets. Jason just so happens to be there, waiting, watching, unable to operate out of his suit. The Waynes were not the Bats. They tried not to be to keep their identities face.

He needed to keep everyone away. He needed to keep them safe, even as Jason Todd. Fuck.

Riddles. Riddler liked his riddles, plagued the city with them. Barbara's voice is in his ears immediately, reciting Riddlers gods damned questions.

"I hold dreams cast by the desperate and bold,

My heart is silver, my whispers cold.

I’ve seen generations, yet I do not age,

A quiet witness to joy, love, and rage.

Though rooted in stone, I endlessly flow,

Reflecting the sky and the world below.

Look beneath where wishes sleep,

There lies a secret, dark and deep.

What am I?" Babs' voice is shaky, just a bit before she's hardened steel in seconds.

Jason cursed under his breath, trying to figure out the riddle. They weren't stupid. They've done this before and Nygma's Riddles were hard just for them, especially Tim and Bruce. But even so, Jason was raised by Batman. He could do this.

The words were complex, the poetic nature was irksome. But Jason took just a couple more minutes before he's identifying the answer.

"A fucking fountain. Gotham U has three of those." Jason responds immediately, sucking in a deep breath as he quickly evacuates his classmates and urges them out the building. "East, north, and south."

"Red Robin and Orphan en route to the south fountain. Robin and Nightwing to the east." Oracle quickly says, "Batman to north. Signal and Spoiler are evacuating everyone from the building. Hood, get out of there—now!"

No can do, Babs, he thinks to himself and goes running to the northern part of the campus. Batman can't do shit alone, even if he insists on it. They've learned not to let him.

He arrives before Batman, already rummaging through the fountain for the fucking bomb. If it was beneath the fountain then he'd have to destroy it, but if it was already attached to the water? Shit.

One second later, he's trying to find anything to destroy the cement, and then another passed. Jason is staring at a strange young man, white hair, green eyes—it reminds him of the descriptions of Wraith and Specter that Damian and Dick repeated. He blinks, meeting eyes with the maybe Ghost Hero. He flinched, looking into glowing Lazarus—a purer hue—eyes. "The bombs under the fountain?"

"Uh... Yes!"

The ghost nodded, phasing his hands through the fountain and a second later, he's dragging out a bomb. Fuck, it only had ten seconds to spare. Both of them stared at it, wide eyed as they panic on what to do. But the stranger doesn't seem to pay too much attention and proceeds to swallow the bomb.

"WHAT THE FUCK—"

An explosion—muffled and small—boomed through the courtyard and Jason stared at the smoke and flames covering the ghosts head. A coughing fit is heard through the smoke and the stranger is waving it away, whining about the horrible taste of burnt food.

Lazarus eyes look back at him, blinking before offering Jason a radiant smile. "Sorry about that! I'm Phantom, by the way. Was just passing by when I heard about the bomb." He offers Jason a hand, still smiling.

"Oh, uhm... Any relations to Specter?" Jason immediately asks, trying not to die from his own stupidity. Way to go Jay, immediately interrogating another guy that makes the pits all mushy and warm.

Fuck, fuck fuck. Was he going to fall for everyone that calms the pits? Fuck, he didn't want to cheat on Danny (Jayyoudelusionalidiotyou'renotevendating.)

Phantom tilts his head, before he's laughing loudly. "You've met my little sister?"

"No, but she saved my brother from a kidnapping."

"Is that so?" Phantom smiled, clearly amused. "Well then, I must bid you adieu. I can see that your city's knight has this all handled."

Just then, Batman drops just behind Jason. DAMNIT, B! GO AWAY!

Phantom just glances at Batman, amused before he takes Jason's hand and pressed a light kiss to it. Cold lips pressed against his hand and he's immediately blue screening. Fucking shit, this was the exact same scene he's read in those books about the heroine getting saved by the mysterious man who'd later on be her sexy enemy/lover. FUCK!

Phantom goes back to speak, but all Jason heard were a couple of trills and chirps, a language he couldn't understand but... It felt familiar.

"Ȋ̵̢̨͍̹̺̼̜͉̳͍̮̠̯͙̤͈̥͔̰̤̐͐͜ͅ ̴̡̤͔̪̠̗̤͉͙͓̥̺̗̎͒͒̔̎̑̀̑͜͝w̷̧̖͍̝̹̤̪̞̭͎̞͓̟̪̗̱͕̑̃̃̓̀̔̀̆̋͒͛̂͜ͅi̴̧̢̧̡̡̩̻̗̬̦͉͎̮̠̤̬̪͇̖̦̘͚̟̪̠̠̪̣̪̖͇̤̣̱̪̺̩̘̼͐̇̂̂͛̿̀͗̃͑̔͋̈́̐̽̿́͊̃̄̿̄̊́̔͘̕͜͠͠͝ͅļ̴̨̢̢̨̡̢̫̘͍͉̞̝̙̹̘̜͎̩̟̰̹̙̟͉̳̯̹̫̼͉̬̯̼̪̖̿̒ḷ̸̨̱̫̣̪͖̤̩̖̮̙̋͛͆̓͜ ̴̨̨͉̩͉̠̖̖̫̠̬̥̮̲̦͙̦̜̱̺̠̫̤̫̐̑͂́̇̆̐̋͂̈́͘ş̷̛̘͎̬͙̖̜̞̗̣͍̲̒̎̈͋̄̄͛̑̈́́̌̐́͋̃͑͑̈͛͋́̂̂̂͂̈́̌̄͊͂́̓̆̎͑̕̚͝ȩ̶̛̝̮̳̭̘̪̰͚̗̖̪̤̟͊̃̐͛͆̄̀͊̄̓̒͝͠e̶̡̢̧̨̢̛̞̖̤̲̱̯̘͇̖̹͖̽͌̍͗̿̒̃̍̆̽̓͂͗̽̈́̀͝ͅ��̢̻̱̜̼̹̠͙̺̞ ̵̢͚͔̦̹͚̱̝̪̗̽̕͜ỷ̵̛̲̘̟̭̬̩͇͖̮̉͋̑̽͂͛̆͆͂̃͋̀̎̆̑͊̃͛̐́̄̊͗̄̾͋̈́̕͝ỏ̶̖̹̦̭̱͇͔̲̝̜̹̹̗̗̮̪̗̬̥̜͍͉̻̍̍̈́̓͊̍͑́̀̈̇̄̐͐̔͛͌̊̀́̈́̍͑͆͑͒̈́̅̌́̄̉́̇͐̒̈̍̀̎̽͝͠͠͝͝ư̴̢̡͕̯̱̫̗̠̪͓̻̜̪̣̞̟̩͎̗̜̹̯̮̱͎̳̖̹͙̖̬̖͕̙͔̲͊̾͂̓̓̀͆̂̏̀̅̀̉̉͊̈́̅̎̍̇͋̽̿̒̓͐̄͛͊̄̉̽̏͛̋̓͗̍̎̆̒̄̕͘̕͝͝͠ͅ ̷̦̰͈͒̀̆̓̈́͑̂́̇͌̑͒̿̐̈́̅͋̎̄̎͒́̒͒̈́͊͛̚̚͠͝͠͠n̷̢̢̦̟͎͚̹̜̜̞͇̝̲̦̻̩͖̦̮̅̌̔̌͛̅̐̈́̋͌̂͋̈̋̎̈́̈̾̊̊͌̽̿̂̐͆͂̌͐̅́̌̚̚ȩ̵̨̧͔͔̩̭̦͈̪̟͉̦͚̘͚̥̰̰͓͓̤͉̫̳̜̲̲̖̘̜̮̠͉̪̤̤̮̣̫̼͓̦̣̤͖̘̹̉͐͗͆͆̉̐̂̀̄͑͑̄̈̒̀̈̀̀̎͘͜ͅx̶̝̘̼̟̜͎̲̪͎̥̖̠̼̀́̎̔͂͂͐̀̓̓̾̏̅̀̌̐̌̀̑̆̃͝͠ţ̵̢̭̫̫͇̟̣͓̲̦̩͉̞̞̳̬̞̘̙͈͓͈̺̱̮̮̘̠̤͔͍̼̼̳̳̳̦̼̣̼̹͍́͐̍͒͆̎͒͊̊̎͛͑̅̿͂̀̍̎͐́̋͛͗͗́̄͒̾͒͆̏̀̀̽͑͌̓͗̚͝͠͠͠ͅͅͅ ̷̨̧̡̮̝̜̟̠̦̳̼̝̭͖̭͚͎̦͕̦̩̺͓̺͚͈̺̤͋͌̔̏̒̾̓̈̅̃̑̏̓̂̚̚͜͝t̸̛̳̯̻͙̼̳̤͎̦̙̟͌̊͋͐̐͊́̑̈̽̎̎̾͂̓̉͆͗̐̇̏͋̕̚͝͝į̵̡̖̠̝̬̠̲̞̩̼͖̦̺͎͖̺͉̘̦̜̜̬͇̠̗̠̬̥͕̭̙̜̳͕̯͈͔̫̤̝̲̫̥͑̃͋̇̊̈́̍̈̉̑͛̈́͌̓̈̈̀̚͜͝͝͠͠ͅm̸̡͓̦͗͗̉͗̒̈́̂̆̿͒́͆ȩ̷̡͍̙͇̫͖̣͙̝̣̣̻͕͈͍͎̣̹̟͓̲̔̀̎̓͘͘͘͠,̶̢̨̨̧̧̢̖͖̠̲̞̮̘̮͉̩͔̭͕̻̝̤͚̻̭̘͈̮̥͉͎͙̜̭̿̿̆̑͗̌̈̈́͛͋̂̑̆̄̈́͋̈͐̑̍̆͂͆̂̌̍̅͊̍̌̓͘̕͝͝ͅͅ ̷̦̦͚̞̖̖̗̎̋̐́̍̆̾̑̾́͌̔́̀̿̀̓̂͒͐̑̋͊̒̈̕Ȑ̴̢̢͉̟̠͍̲̠e̷̢̡̢̡̡̨̨̢̨̛̝̰̪̠̥̠͓͍͔̗̩̯̺͕̬̮̳͎̩͈̼͕͙̯̟̦̺̣̠̺͔̓̉̈́̈̀͋̂̂̈́̆͑̏̅͌̌̂̓́̐͒̈͒̅͊̀̑̂̿̐̂̒̆̓̂̐͗̚͜͝d̶̢̧̛͇̙̰̺͉͔̼̘̩̟͎̖̪̻͖̥̳̠̣̖͎͈͓̳̯̤̲͔̻̱̝̿̈́̆͛́͛̆̄͛͒̿̈̊̉̈́̆̃̒͋́̽̒͐̀̃̑̂̔̋̈́̍̀̀̐̅̄̇͝͠ ̴̡̡̧̡̟̥̟̝̮̟̘̯̺̳̗͚̮̭͍̘̰̭̹͈͈̱̦͎̝͍̺͎͕̼̝̼̝̦͋̾̏́̐̍͌̍̋͒̕͜͠ͅḨ̵̡̧̧̤͓̖̺̭͕͉̖̝̲̖̙̣̳͚͙͚͇̙̼̻͖̺̼͉͖̞̤̞̝̭̂͐̒̑̓͂̈́́̉̽̇̀́̌͂͑͜ͅͅǫ̶̨̢̳̠̱̻͉̦̳͚̜͓̭̯̳̘͕͎͍͖̟͖̹̞̤̘̣̖̰͓̙̾̂͌̓͗̃̀͗̈́̚��̧͍̻͖̘͚̠͕̗͍̮͙̼͍̪̰ͅõ̸̧̨̡̢̧̡͎̺̭̬̼̱̟̝͔̲̣͖͍̭̜̣͔̠̗͍̯̣̬̮͚̔ͅd̸̡̹̠̹͍̝̜̍̈́̄̇͋̈́́̈́̈̎̎̀̉̍̎̔̋̒͒̔̒̇͐̀̀́͌̊̉̓͌̕.̴̛̛̛̫̹͍̯̟͓̒̀̈́̑̈̏̓͊̽̈́͊͗͒͌͌̏̌̔͌̏́̄͊͒̽̏̏̏͆̅̐͋̐̿̿́̐̈͐͗̊̏̔̚͜͜͝͝"

(Later on, Danny gets one hell of a tongue lashing from his siblings for eating a fucking bomb. At least Red Hood comes to visit with some dessert to make the flavor of bomb go away.)

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Jikininki Disorder.

Pairing: Yandere!Sukuna x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 5.0k.

Written for a very lovely anonymous commissioner.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Cannibalism, No Curse AU, Chef Sukuna AU, Oral Sex, Unhealthy Relationships, Kidnapping, Gore, Physical + Psychological Abuse, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, and Prolonged Captivity. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

Sukuna kept the basement door locked.

That was the only part of his rustic, oversized house that was off-limits to you. For the first few weeks, he’d kept you either collared and leashed to the headboard of his bed if he was home and locked in a roughly human-sized dog kennel when he wasn’t, but now, you were allowed to wander freely, even if he still kept deadbolts on the windows and doors. Occasionally, he’d lock you out of the kitchen while he was working on a new recipe or tell you to stay in your bedroom while he talked to his every-mysterious “business partners”, but for a kidnapper, Sukuna was surprisingly trusting. The basement door was the only thing that was always locked – and you should know. You checked the knob at least twice a day.

It wasn’t that he was afraid of you escaping, or hurting yourself, or god forbid, hurting him. Even in the early days, before you’d proved you weren’t going to run away, he seemed to be more concerned that you might be a nuisance than that you might be any kind of threat. The only thing you really knew was that the basement was where he kept his meat locker, and while you were curious, you were sure that wasn’t what he was keeping you away from. Sukuna had you sample everything he made. If he was going to start withholding food, then he would’ve had to—

“Oi, brat.” You felt his elbow jab into your side, drawing you out of your thoughts. “Quit daydreaming and try this.”

You glanced towards him, pouting as you straightened your back and repositioned yourself on the kitchen counter. You would’ve been more comfortable to sit on the floor, or better yet, at the table in the next room, but he liked to have you as close as possible whenever he was cooking. Not that you’d have it any other way. “You’re always so mean to me,” you sighed, in a pitchy mock whine. “One day, I’m not going to want to spend time with you at all.”

“As if. You can’t get enough of me.” He rolled his eyes, turning back to the stove top. Currently, he was working on something for his restaurant – a variation on karaage, a spread of vegetables and meat (pork, maybe, but you weren’t entirely sure) sitting on a cutting board off to the side, a greased skillet waiting next to it. His attention was on the broth simmering in the pot in front of him, though, which his ingredients would strew in before being fried. He’d been toying with it for the better part of an hour, and you’d sat diligently within arm’s reach, only slightly motivated by the fact that he’d threatened to break both your ankles if you tried to move.

Your sample turned out to be a piece of broccoli – likely chosen to best compliment the flavor of the broth – and you accepted it eagerly, letting Sukuna bring his chopsticks to your lips and feed you by-hand. Of course, the flavor was heavenly, and of course, you took long seconds to savor it, letting your eyes fall shut as you chewed and swallowed. Sukuna watched you intently, his dark eyes never leaving your lips. It wasn’t a secret that his favorite part of you had always been your mouth. You didn’t mind – his cooking was the only thing you’d ever liked about him.

Praise would’ve been pointless. It was a given that anything he made would be the best thing you’d ever tasted, so you tried to focus on something more productive. “It’s… salty,” you surmised, pursing your lips. “Did you use your…?”

“Cum?” Sukuna finished. “Just a tablespoon. ‘m surprised you can even taste it.”

A month ago, you might’ve recoiled, refused to eat, but now, it was all you could do to pretend to be surprised.

You watched intently as he added another cup of water, another round of herbs all kept in mismatched, unlabeled jars. Your heart skipped a beat as he finally reached towards the cutting board, but he pulled away at the last minute, turning to you, instead.

“’kuna,” you whined as he slid into the space between your legs, planting a large hand on either side of you. “I was actually hoping to eat sometime tonight, y’know.”

“I know, I know.” And yet, he didn’t seem concerned, chuckling as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, pressing an open-mouthed kiss into the base of your throat. “You’ll get to, just sit pretty for a little while longer.”

“But—” He cut you off with another kiss, this one immediately followed by feeling of his pointed canines burrowing into tender skin. You flinched into yourself, and Sukuna groaned into your neck, drawing back just far enough to run the flat of his tongue over the twin puncture marks.  Your hands shot to his shoulders, but you resisted the urge to push him away. Even if you did, it was already too late; you could feel something stiff pressing against the inside of your thigh, hear him murmuring something low and affectionate into the dip of your shoulder. Resigned, you leaned back against the kitchen cabinets and shut your eyes.

At least, if he got this over with quickly enough, you might still get to eat.

~

Your first impression of Sukuna, unsurprisingly, was that he looked more like a body builder than a chef.

Calling him massive would’ve been an understatement. He stood a head above you, with biceps as thick as your head and a chest so defined, you could see the outline of his definition through the thin fabric of his black (presumably not Health and Safety compliant) tank top. He had piercings, too – twin studs underneath his bottom lip, lining the bridge of his nose – and tattoos, black lines forming intricate patterns across his jawline and bands around his wrist. You already had your back to the concrete wall, but you pressed yourself against it, regardless, eager to put as much space between you and him as possible. Sukuna remained where he was, perpetually unimpressed.

His introduction was brief, succinct. “You’re the little bitch Uraume sent out?”

“I… I think so?” You genuinely weren’t sure. The waitress had only told you that the owner wanted to talk to you outside, which you hadn’t been surprised by. It was your fourth time coming in that week, since his restaurant didn’t do takeout and the last person to order more than they could eat in one sitting was promptly and proudly taken outside and beaten half to death. You couldn’t risk that, not when more than half of your meals came from his shop.  “I’m sorry, I just—Are you the chef? I really like—”

“Shut the fuck up.” He took half a step toward you, and you glanced down the alleyway behind his restaurant. One end was cut off with a chain-link fence, and while the other side opened up onto a proper road, it was still more than fifty feet away. You never would’ve made it, not with someone like Sukuna chasing you. “Who sent you? The Gojo clan?”

Sent you? You had no idea what he was talking about – if you had someone to fund your addiction, you wouldn’t have to resign yourself the cheapest section of his overpriced menu. You opened your mouth, but must’ve taken longer to answer than you realized. You blinked, and suddenly, his hand was planted on the wall beside your head, his body only a hair’s width from yours. He had to tilt his head forward to look at you, which while not surprising, did little to comfort you. “Answer the fucking question.” And then, when you shrunk into yourself at his tone. “I swear to fucking Christ—Did he tell you what happens to the people who piss me off? Because you’re about to—”

“I can’t eat anything else!”

You were just as surprised as he was to hear your own voice. Still, you did your best to recover quickly, falling into a stiff bow as deep as the confined space would allow. With your eyes fixed on the pavement, you forced yourself to go on, to say something that would stop the owner of your favorite restaurant from murdering you in the alleyway behind that aforementioned restaurant. “I—I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time, but—but a classmate brought me here a few months ago, and—and I haven’t been able to eat anywhere else since. I can come in less often, if that’s what you’re bothered by, but please.” You forced yourself to inhale, to breathe. “Please, don’t ban me.”

At that, Sukuna broke. You didn’t dare to look at him, but you could hear the smirk in his voice, the airy laugh lacing his tone, as if he found something about your desperation funny. He did, obviously. You’d quickly realize that Sukuna found most things about you funny. “You think I’m going to… What was it? Ban you?”

You nodded furiously. “I—I know you kicked out that salaryman last week, and a couple students the week before. They were all regulars, but I haven’t seen any of them since.” It was a rushed explanation, only half-coherent, but you still tried to go on, bowing your head. “I—I can’t cook, and I can’t eat anywhere else, anymore. If you ban me, I really don’t have a lot of other options, so—”

“You can go back to your table.”

It was your turn to blink, this time, to startle. You didn’t straighten your back, not until you felt Sukuna’s hand on your shoulder, heard the grin in his voice sharpen. “Really?”

“Mhm. Don’t order, I’ll send something over. And you’re going to stay until closing.” And then, as you stared up at him with as much gratitude you’d ever felt, “We’re going to grab a couple drinks after I close up shop. Try to think of a few more compliments, before then.”

It wasn’t a question, but you nodded regardless. After scurrying back to your table before Sukuna could change his mind, a white-haired woman who you’d never seen working the front of house before brought you a meat dish so rare, you could’ve sworn it hadn’t been cooked at all.

It went without saying that you savored every bite.

~

“Needy ass brat.”

His bicep dug into your stomach where you were slung over his shoulder, your legs dangling uselessly was your hands clawed half-heartedly at his back. You weren’t really upset that he’d caught you – you knew it’d only be a matter of time the moment you slipped out of bed – but it was frustrating just how quickly he’d come to get you. You’d barely gotten to the kitchen, let alone the fridge.

Your mind drifted back to the basement door – to the meat locker. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you decided that you would try to pick the lock tomorrow, after he’d left for the day. Whatever punishment he’d dull out would be worth it, if you could actually get in.

Unceremoniously, you were dumped onto the floor of his bedroom, left to shamble to your knees as he collapsed onto the foot of the bed. You moved to stand, but Sukuna was quick to catch you by the hair and force you back down. “Disobedient, too,” he muttered, his voice still rough with exhaustion. “Tell me what you were trying to do before I decide you can’t be trusted with the ability to walk.”

You sulked, letting out a shallow sigh and resting your cheek against the inside of his knee. “I’m just hungry,” you explained, feigning thoughtlessness. It was more or less true. You were eating better than you ever had before, and yet, your stomach had never felt emptier. “I was gonna come back, after I got something.”

Sukuna chuckled, running his fingers through your hair. You melted into his thigh, eager to keep his mood light, sentimental. “I feed you three gourmet meals a day, baby. Don’t act like you’re starving.”

“But I am.” You sighed, stared up at him with your doe-like expression. “I’ve really been craving meat, lately, ‘specially that stuff you keep downstairs. Can you make it again tomorrow?”

“We’ll see. I don’t want you getting spoiled, and ‘sides, I’ve gotta save some of it for the shop.” You frowned, sinking deeper into his thigh, and Sukuna sighed, raking his nails over your scalp. “But, maybe, if I got some motivation from my little helper…”

He trailed off, and suddenly, it was your turn to play oblivious. “Well, yeah, I’d obviously help,” you chirped, mimicking his smile. “I’m not very good in the kitchen, though, so you can’t blame me if—”

“That’s not what I want from you, babydoll.”

You felt something tighten in your chest. It wasn’t painful, but the way his fingers tugged at your hair was.

He didn’t pull. You tried to be thankful for that, but it was hard to be thankful for anything when his free hand was already at the waistband of his sweats, freeing the semi-stiff cock formerly hidden beneath the grey fabric. You frowned, but didn’t pull away. “How are you already hard?” And then, as you settled onto your knees, “You woke up, like, two minutes ago.”

“Always gotta have something nice n’ warm ready for my baby.” Rather than let your whining deter him, he focused on drawing you into his lap, encouraging you to lean into him, to brace yourself on his muscular thighs. Controlling as always, Sukuna guided you gently towards his cock. You half-expected him to force you down at the last minute, to laugh as he suffocated you on his length, but of course, he didn’t. He wasn’t that kind.

He wouldn’t let you play such a passive role in your own dehumanization.

You moved as quickly as you could without making your unwillingness entirely transparent, taking the head of his cock past your lips and running the flat of your tongue over his slit (already leaking, as if this couldn’t get any worse). You couldn’t pretend to be some pure-of-heart, dewy eyed virgin, not when most of your mornings were started with Sukuna thrusting three fingers lazily into your cunt and most of your nights ended with his face buried between your thighs, but you never seemed to be able to completely brace yourself for just how wide you had to open your mouth to take him, just how mindful you had to be to not let your teeth scrape against his shaft as you struggled to get past his tip. Like everything else about Sukuna, his cock was too fucking big. Not that he seemed to care.

If anything, Sukuna seemed to like the way you gagged around him. As you wrapped a hand around his base, pumping over the parts of his shaft you couldn’t swallow and trying to ignore the fact that your fingers didn’t touch, you heard him groan, felt his grip tighten on your hair, and knew he was staring at you, drinking in the sight of you choking on his cock with as little shame as you had dignity. “Good girl,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “Are you gonna start moving, or does the spoiled princess need a little help?”

‘Help’ meant him holding your head in-place while he fucked your skull. Resisting the urge to shake your head, you bobbed shallowly, the veined underside of his cock gliding over your tongue as a knot of ache formed in either corner of your jaw, the strain already too painful to ignore. You could taste his arousal in the back of your throat, feel him throbbing against the hollows of your cheeks, but you forced yourself to dip your head lower, to take him deeper, to at least attempt to match the stuttering pace of your hand with that of your mouth. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep him distracted. His hand drifted from the back of your head to the nape of your neck, his thumb pushing rough patterns into your skin. “Still can’t believe I get to keep such a sweet thing all to myself.” It was almost cruel, how composed he sounded while saliva dripped from the corner of your mouth. “It would’ve been a shame if I’d fucked up and done something really mean, that first day. I don’t think I would’ve gone through with it, though. As soon as I got a good look, all I wanted was to see what that pretty mouth looked like wrapped around my cock.”

His breath hitched, his hips bucked, and you audibly gagged as the blunt head of his cock slammed into the back of your throat. You jerked away on reflex, but Sukuna didn’t let you go far. His hand wrapped around your neck as he rolled his hips, forcing another inch of his cock down your throat, then another, until it was all you could do to blink away the tears quickly forming in your eyes. Your hand fell away from his shaft to scramble and claw at his thighs, but if Sukuna mourned the loss of contact, you couldn’t tell. The only thing you could make out was his cock pulsing against the convulsing walls of your throat and his voice, as distant as it was deafening. “Fuck,” he sighed, then again, “Fuck. Desperate little bitch. My desperate little bitch. Can’t go three fucking seconds without needing me to take care of you, isn’t that right?”

Your only response was a desperate, keening whine – mostly muffled by the twitching object lodged in your airway. Rather than a plea for mercy, Sukuna seemed to take it as confirmation, taking you by the back of your head and forcing you that much further, that much closer. “Fucking—Take it.”

He didn’t give you a chance to spit, let alone pull away. Your nose brushed against the defined muscle of his abdomen as you felt something bitter and searing flood down your throat. Calling it swallowing would’ve been too generous.

That night, you vomited twice before letting Sukuna carry you to bed. Despite everything, you would dream only of the taste of fresh blood and burnt meat.

~

Despite everything, you only saw the kitchen of Sukuna’s restaurant once. He expected you at your usual table almost every day, invited you out for drinks at one of his classy, dimly lit lounges (a severe juxtaposition to his own hole-in-the-wall establishment) nearly as often as that, but he only let you see his back of house once, late at night, hours after closing.

Coincidentally, that was also the night he took you away.

Admittedly, it was difficult to remember why you’d been called back to the kitchen. That section of your day was blurry, distant, fuzzy around the edges from the moment you stepped into his shop to the second you woke up alone in a bed you didn’t recognize, the smell of sweat and cigarette smoke thick in the air.  Still, you could remember the feeling of chilled titanium pressing into your back, the heat of Sukuna’s body above you, what he’d looked like as you stared up at him from below. You remembered thinking, possibly for the first time, that you hated everything about him, from his inflated ego to his resonating voice to his awful, conniving smirk, and realizing that you’d never be able to leave him.

You also remembered the white-haired server being there – standing in the doorway, her expression one of pleasant indifference as she explained something grotesque and nonsensical to Sukuna, either oblivious to or uncaring of how deeply he was buried inside of you. You watched her lips move, but only a few words broke through the haze – disposal and witness, nothing that made any sense. You remembered noticing how pretty she was, and thinking that it was a shame she wasn’t the owner, rather than Sukuna.

You could remember asking for something, and Sukuna humming in response before something was shoved past your lips – heady and thick and raw. You tasted blood on your lips, felt yourself choke, and then, everything was dark.

~

“Oh, sweetheart.”

You should’ve known he’d gotten home. You’d been able to make out the sound of his footsteps through the floor above, been able to feel the light spill onto your back as the basement door and its useless, mangled knob were pushed open, but it wasn’t until you heard his voice that you could bring yourself to care. Even then, your hold on the raw chunk of half-frozen meat only tightened, nails digging into the ruddy, bleeding tissue. As much as you didn’t want to put a name to it, it would’ve been impossible to deny what it was – to ignore what you’d seen inside of the meat locker, to pretend you hadn’t recognized the disassembled bodies hanging on rusted-over hooks, to act like you could mistake the taste still heavy on your tongue for that of pig, or cow, or some other, inferior animal. It would’ve been useless, even if the temptation was still there. It would’ve been futile.

Almost as futile as trying to deny that it was the best fucking thing you’d ever choked down.

You heard the tell-tale creak of Sukuna starting to descend the staircase, and before you could stop yourself, dug your teeth into the brunt of the sinew, tearing off the largest mouthful you were capable of and swallowing it whole. You dipped your head for another bite, but it was too late – Sukuna was already behind you, his hand already wrapped around the collar of your shirt, your body already being jerked back and away from your hard-earned prize. You tried to dig your nails into the thick of the fat, to stuff the last of it past your lips, but with an airy chuckle and a quirk of his wrist, the cut was torn away and discarded just as thoughtlessly.

For the first time, you snapped towards Sukuna, your teeth bared and your eyes narrowed into something furious, something hostile. “Why would you—” And then, letting out a miserable sob and turning away from him, “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to break anything, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and then—”

“I get it, baby. You aren’t in trouble.”

“And then I found something heavy enough to break the knob and I couldn’t stop thinking about—” You cut yourself off suddenly, letting out a sharp exhale. “…I’m not?”

“No, princess, you’re not.” If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve mistaken his tone for something gentle. His gaze fell to your chest, and for the first time, you noticed the blood dripping down your chin, staining the fabric of your top. “We should get you cleaned up, though. You’ll only feel shittier when it dries.”

You didn’t protest as he pulled you into his arms and carried you upstairs, out of the basement, away from the meat locker. You didn’t say anything as he set you on his bed, your back leaning against the headboard, and eased your top over your head, replacing it with one of his own, and produced a damp cloth from the nearest bathroom. Gingerly, he cleaned the gore off your face, never rushing through a stroke or applying more pressure than was absolutely necessary, stopping often to kiss your forehead or the bridge of your nose. You were sniffling by the time he finished, crying by the time he left the room, and sobbing when he came back – a bowl in hand with a pair of chopsticks laid across its rim.

Its contents were predictable: meat, pan-grilled in thin slices and, as far as you could tell, left unseasoned. “I’ll make some rice when you’re done,” Sukuna went on, as you struggled with the chopsticks. “To balance it out. You’ll need something to take the edge off.”

You nodded vacantly, accepting the bowl greedily despite your shaking hands. It was better raw – the flavor richer, the taste fresher – but you weren’t in a place to complain, not when it was so much easier when you didn’t have to gnaw and tear like some wild, starving animal. Not that you weren’t eating like one – keeping the rim of the bowl pressed into your chin, never letting more than a second lapse between one mouthful and the next. You only paused when you felt the mattress dip, noticed Sukuna positioning himself between your legs, and but he only smiled, only rested a hand on your knee. “Keep going,” he urged. “It’d be a waste to let it get cold, right?”

“I don’t like this.” Your voice was still unsteady, prone to cracking, but it was true. You didn’t want him to pretend to be nice. “I’ve never really liked you. I’d leave, if I could. There hasn’t been a moment since you kidnapped me that I haven’t spent fantasizing about getting out and fixing what you’ve done to me.”

“You’re just saying that to hurt my feelings, doll.” You were, but it wasn’t. Slowly, he lowered himself onto his chest, one hand spreading your thighs apart while the other toyed lazily with the hem of your shorts. You felt him lean against your thigh, pressing an open-mouthed kiss into the tender flesh. You’d gained weight during your time with him – not much, just a few pounds, a little plush to soften your harsher edges. You weren’t sure whether or not to care. “I’m just proud, that’s all. Don’t you want me to be proud of you?”

You didn’t want anything from him. Your appetite gone, you placed the bowl haphazardly on the bedside table, watching through clouded eyes as Sukuna removed your shorts entirely, taking agonizing seconds to guide them down your legs before letting them drop to the floor below. You expected your panties to follow, but Sukuna only settled into place, dragging the pad of his thumb over the length of your slit, pausing to draw slow, idle circles into your clit through the silken fabric. It went without saying that he picked out your clothes, even if he rarely had the patience to tell you exactly what to wear. You were allowed to choose your outfit day-to-day, but it didn’t matter. It couldn’t, not when your entire closet was suited to his tastes.

His hands curled around your thighs. You felt his tongue before you realized what he was doing – wet and warm and thick, his saliva soaking through the thin material and infecting you, spoiling you. You tried to ignore it, to remind yourself that you should be used to this, used to him, but this just… wasn’t what you were used to. Normally, you could expect him to be cruel, degrading, impulsive, but tonight, he seemed more than happy to bury his face between your thighs and play lover – albeit, a lover who still must’ve known he was unwanted. A lover who must’ve known you would’ve preferred a captor.

Your panties were dragged to the side, his tongue immediately finding your cunt. He took his time, laving over your entrance, coaxing reactions out of you despite your best attempts to dig your teeth into your tongue and hold back. He knew too much about you. He’d had too much time to learn. Heat pooled in your core, leaking out through your pussy, and Sukuna lapped it up like a fine wine – his thumb finding your clit as his tongue traced patterns into your cunt, and—

And oh, god, you were crying again, tears dripping down your cheeks despite your pitiful attempts to brush them away. Sukuna’s eyes flickered up to meet yours, and you felt him smile against the inside of your thigh, his tongue dipping shallowly into your cunt once, twice before he pulled away, straightening his back. His hand quickly replaced his mouth, two thick fingers thrusting into pussy with a humiliating sort of ease, spreading apart and curling against you and filling his bedroom with those embarrassing, wet, vile noises you’d never been able to stand. He didn’t seem to mind, holding your gaze as he spoke. “When did you put it together?”

“I—I don’t know what you’re—”

“Don’t play dumb.” And then, as his thumb traced harsh circles into your clit, “You knew what you were looking for. What gave it away? The texture? The smell?”

Your mouth opened, but you didn’t answer, a fractured moan falling from your lips in the place of anything more intelligent. Sukuna hummed, adding a third digit, and you spilled open in an instant. “Your restaurant,” you managed, the words rushed and sloppy. “No matter what I ordered, the meat would always taste the same. At first, I—I thought you were just being cheap, but then I noticed how often your regulars would just suddenly stop coming in, and—”

You were cut off by your own miserable, keening whine; his calloused fingers catching on something tender and vulnerable inside of you and taking advantage of it. “And you kept coming in,” he finished, hushing your whimpering. “Loyal little brat. Uraume wanted to get rid of you, but I knew I was right to take you in.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. You were too busy moving your hips against his hand, seeking out the pleasure that your body craved and your mind rejected. Sukuna took pity on you, cooing as he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into his lap, supporting you as the movements of his hand turned short, erratic, as he edged you closer and closer and closer to your climax. You came undone with a sob, burying your face in his chest, and Sukuna was kind enough to nurse you through it, to hold you against him as your body crumpled and your poor, beaten soul seemed to give out entirely.

Eventually, he broke the silence. “I think,” he said, bowing his head and running his tongue over your cheek. “It’s time for you to learn to cook.”

You couldn’t think, but you didn’t have to. There was only one thing you ever would’ve said.

“I’d like that.”

[grumpypixistix]

The lab assistant

Scientist!Miguel O’Hara x Shy!Reader

Warnings- Face sitting, slight corruption kink, slightly perverted!Miguel (if you squint), co-workers being dickheads, semi-public sex (let me know if I missed anything! )

MINORS DNI 18+

You had been working at Alchemax for a few months now. A few of your colleagues were generous enough to introduce you to the workplace and the other workers, but there was one person you couldn’t keep your eyes off of.

Miguel O’Hara.

When you first introduced yourself to him, he had already taken a liking to you. Something about how shy yet sweet you were made his pulse quicken and his cheeks burn. The way you smiled at him as you tried to introduce yourself, nervous about your first day at Alchemax. But you quickly felt at home when Miguel began to bond with you by taking over your “tour” of the place, making great conversation. Soon enough, your shell had cracked and you started talking about your personal interests, how you got hired, etc.

About a week after that day, he went home and couldn’t stop thinking about you for some reason. He didn’t know what to make of it, thinking it wasn’t too serious.

But then you started appearing in his dreams.

Miguel would dream about leaving marks everywhere on your body to claim you as his, fucking every ounce of innocence out of you.

And when he would wake up in a cold sweat, his cock was nearly on the verge of exploding, precum dripping everywhere. He felt guilty about it afterwards, it was just wrong for him to think about his colleague like that.

But you plagued his mind consistently. The dreams slowly turned into daily thoughts that he finally caved into, fisting his cock at least four times a day to the thought of your body. But you had no clue what he was doing after he got off of work. You just assumed that he only saw you as a co-worker and nothing else, maybe even a good friend.

But God, were you so far off from the truth.

As you entered the building for another shift of the week, your boss had approached you with some new information.

“I’m really sorry this is a last minute notice, but I need you to stay a little later. I tried to get some other people to stay instead, but all of them couldn’t do it… but on the bright side, Miguel volunteered to stay, so you won’t be completely alone.”

Great, just what you needed. A longer shift after your horrible week.

Even though some of your colleagues were nice to you, there was a group that wasn’t as generous as them. Some of them claimed that you were too clumsy or stupid to be an assistant, others claimed you were like a lost dog or a prude. Whatever they said, you tried not to pay attention to it too much. But there were days where it would get to you, and this week happened to have a bunch of those days.

You just nodded at your boss and shot him the best smile you could muster up.

“Alright then, that shouldn’t be a problem, sir” You said in a friendly tone.

“At least Miguel will be here with me… maybe I can talk to him, get my stress out” You thought to yourself as you walked off to start your shift.

When you walked into the lab and took your coat off of the hanger, you could hear some voices from the other side of the room.

“Oh great, look who’s here.”

“God, I don’t even know why she’s still here. She should’ve been fired months ago, she doesn’t even know what she’s doing.”

“I’m surprised Miguel even hangs out with her, she’s such a prude.”

“Hell, you should’ve seen the look on her face yesterday. She practically bursted into tears when we called her useless.”

The other comments stung a little, but what got you the most was the part about Miguel. Sure, you had developed a small crush on him, but that had nothing to do with your guy’s friendship. The fact that the other colleagues had judged your bond just to get a laugh hurt you more than you felt it should’ve.

God forbid if they ever found out about your feelings for Miguel… you couldn’t help but become paranoid over the idea.

As you tried to ignore the group across the room and focus on your tasks, it seemed that one of them had read your mind and called you over.

Shit.

“Hey, newbie! Come over here real quick, we gotta ask you somethin“ One of your colleagues called out.

Your heart pounded hard inside your chest, quietly gulping before walking over to the group with a small sigh.

“What do you need?” You asked gently, silently praying it was something work-related and not just making fun of you again.

Some of the others chuckled and chattered a little bit before falling quiet.

“Sooo, you’re friends with Miguel, right?” The female colleague from before asked.

Your palms began to grow sweaty as sirens went off in your mind, biting your cheek before answering.

“Yeah, why?” You raised your brow at your co-worker.

Your co-worker slowly smiled. Oh no.

“Well, we were just thinking… with the way you act around him and all… you definitely have a thing for him, don’t you?”

Your whole chest sunk to your stomach, wishing this was just some horrible dream and that you would wake up soon. Trying to play it off, your eyes widened at the question and you shook your head vigorously.

“What?? No, he’s just my friend-“

“That wasn’t my question. I asked if you have a thing for him” She cuts off coldly.

Some of the others snickered quietly, making your throat close up as you tried to hold your emotions back. Your face contorted into confusion at the strange question, the others taking notice of it.

“Oh my god, she’s clueless” One of the colleagues muttered with a small chuckle.

Your co-worker lets out a small laugh as she noticed your face, clicking her tongue and shaking her head.

“Here, let me dumb it down for you: do you ever fantasize about having sex with Miguel?”

Your whole face flushed bright red as it clicked into your head, slowly shaking your head.

“N- No… that’s… that’s wrong” You stuttered, looking at your co-worker.

She stares at you with a raised brow, not believing you at all.

“Okay, sure… but you still like him, right? Being a prude and all, surely you at least have a crush on him.”

“Please, don’t call me that-“

“Or what? Huh? You gonna run off to your little boyfriend and cry in his arms? I’m sure he’ll baby you, he does every time he sees you” She hisses.

The feeling in your throat grew even stronger, your eyes slowly beginning to water. But you didn’t want to prove her theory, so you just stood there silently, not knowing what else to say. As the silence grew more, some of the colleagues just laughed.

“Wow… you really are stupid, aren’t you?”

“Who’s stupid?” A voice emerges from the entrance of the room, making everyone fall silent.

It was Miguel, standing with his arms crossed and his brows furrowed. The group of colleagues weren’t laughing or smiling anymore- instead, they actually looked nervous. The female coworker looked over at you for a quick moment before flashing a smile at Miguel.

“Oh, nothing! It was just something we were talking about from yesterday. Right, hon?” The co-worker said in an overly sweet tone, forcing herself to smile at you.

You froze, not wanting anymore conflict with the group, so you just went along with it. You quietly nodded your head and looked over at Miguel, giving your best smile.

“Mhm, it was just stuff from yesterday” You mustered up as your voice shook a little.

Miguel didn’t buy it at all, seeing how your eyes glistened, tears threatening to leave them at any second. He shot your co-worker a glare before looking back at you, a sigh leaving his lips.

“Ah, alright then… do you have the paperwork from last week? I just wanna make sure everything is right” Miguel spoke to you, his face softening a little.

You quickly nodded and walked away from the group to your clipboard that was in one of the desk drawers, skimming through the pile of papers to look for the documents. The group just watched as you eventually found the papers Miguel was referring to, handing them to him. He took out his glasses from his coat pocket and put them on, reading the sheet of paper. After a few moments of silence, Miguel took off his glasses and looked over at you, handing the paper back.

“This is perfect. Thank you, sweetheart. I don’t think I’ve ever seen paperwork better than this and I’ve worked here longer than anyone else has” Miguel praised, a gentle smile formed on his lips.

“Thank you, Miguel. That means a lot to me” You hummed in appreciation, returning the smile.

The praise alone made you forget about the whole situation from earlier, but the smile comforted you even more. Your cheeks burned up as you felt your whole body tingle, a small smile creeping up your lips. The feeling Miguel made you have was insatiable, you just couldn’t get enough of it. You wanted more of him, to have his lips on yours…

You almost forgot that there were other people in the room. Almost.

The sound of low muttering made your head turn towards the group, the co-worker giving you a dirty look before the group parted separate ways. You set the paper on the table and Miguel leans down to whisper in your ear.

“We’ll talk about this later.”

Your head spun when you felt his warm breath tickle your skin, almost not realizing what he just said. When you finally processed it, you looked at Miguel and nodded a little. For once, you were actually kind of glad your boss made you work later.



After hours of working and following Miguel around for assistance (as he asked for your presence), it was time for the others to go home. Usually, you would be getting off at this time, but since you had to stay later, that meant you would have to pick up dinner on your way back home. You didn’t really mind since it would save you time and energy to make food at home.

Plus you didn’t mind since it meant you could spend more time with Miguel.

Speaking of which, you couldn’t help but notice something was a little off with him. You assumed it was because of what happened earlier, because he seemed a little more tense than normal. But after everyone had left, he looked over at you, glad that the two of you were finally alone. You were finishing out today’s paperwork, slouching over the desk as you tried to fight off your tiredness. Miguel walked over to you and gently took the pen out of your hand, turning your chair around to face him.

“Everyone left, it’s just us. Now… about what happened earlier…” Miguel started, bending down to your height, “Tell me. What exactly did they say to you?”

Your face burned up a little as his face was inches away from yours, struggling to find your words. He just stared at you, waiting for an answer. But after a few moments of silence, his face softened and he let out a small breath, resting his large hand on your thigh.

“I won’t say a word to anyone, I promise. I just want to know what’s wrong… when I got here, you were on the verge of tears” Miguel spoke softly.

The feeling of his hand on your thigh made your chest flutter and your stomach turn, trying to keep your composure as much as you could. He was only just trying to comfort you… right?

“They… they were asking me questions…” You began, still debating whether or not you should leave out a few details.

Miguel hummed a little as he listened to you, his other hand now on your other thigh as he gently caressed your skin. Your stomach felt fuzzy and warm, avoiding eye contact with him.

“Questions about what? C’mon hermosa, you can tell me” He coos, tucking a small strand of hair out of your face.

You swallowed hard and bit your lip hard before answering hesitantly.

“They were… questions a- about you.”

Miguel stopped and looked at you, gently grabbing your chin and forcing you to look up at him.

“What did they ask about me?”

You stared up at him for a few moments and finally spoke again.

“They… they were asking if… I liked you” You whispered quietly.

That caught Miguel off-guard.

His eyes widened at you just the slightest, analyzing your face to see if you were messing with him. Once he noticed your flushed cheeks and nervous look, he knew you weren’t joking. After a moment of tense silence, Miguel licked his lips and started talking.

“…Do you?” Miguel asked lowly, looking down at your lips and up at your eyes.

His question had you in a slight panic, weighing out the odds. If you told him how you felt, it would either change your entire friendship or you would be stuck working alone for the rest of your time at Alchemax. Either one of those options sounded horrible, but if you didn’t tell him now, you were certain the group from earlier would do it eventually. Your heart raced so quick, Miguel swore he could hear it clearly. A shaky sigh left your lips and you nodded at him.

“Yeah… I do” You mumbled, scared that he would react negatively.

But instead, Miguel just chuckled softly and smiled at you, his hand cupping your face and his thumb dragging down your bottom lip.

“That’s good to know… because I’ve also liked you for quite some time now” Miguel responded, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

Your eyes widened at his response, a look of hope on your face as you slowly smiled.

“Really?” You squeaked.

Miguel chuckled again and nodded at you, his eyes flicking down to your lips.

“Of course I do… how could I not?” He whispered, his face slowly inching closer to yours.

Your face flushed all the way to your ears, finding yourself drifting towards him. Closer, closer and closer until you finally feel his warm lips on yours. It felt like hundreds of fireworks were exploding in your chest, slowly wrapping your arms around him and holding Miguel close. You were almost afraid to let go, and he seemed to notice this. Miguel gently moved his hands down to your waist, pulling you up out of the chair and into his arms. The more you kissed him, the harder it became for Miguel to keep his composure. He wanted to take things slow with you, not wanting to scare you away. But God, was it a challenge for him to just keep his hands on your hips.

After a little bit, Miguel finally broke the kiss to catch his breath, already panting softly. He looked at you and let out a groan that awoken something inside you.

“Shit, do you have any idea what you do to me?” Miguel huffed quietly, his thumbs barely peeking up the hem of your shirt and rubbing the bare skin of your stomach.

You just stared up at him, your mind still foggy from the kiss you two had shared moments ago. You shook your head with a quiet “No…”

Miguel sighed and looked down at your chest, his cock twitching inside his pants. He didn’t even bother hiding his erection anymore, moving your hips against his to show you the effect you had on him. You let out a gasp at the strange feeling, your fingers digging into his shoulders as your whole body felt hot now.

“I can’t help it… you’re just so fucking sweet… you haunt me in my dreams, I swear to god. Every night when I go to bed, all I can dream about is you and that fucking body of yours… all just for me.”

Your eyes widened at his words, not expecting him to say those kind of things to you. Normally, you’d be freaked out or even scared… but something about the way Miguel looked at you made you feel different. You weren’t sure if it was from the kiss earlier or your feelings for him in general, but you felt… ready in a sense. When Miguel saw your eyes widen at his words, his face dropped as he suddenly became worried.

“…Was that too much?” Miguel whispered gently, his brows furrowed together.

You slowly shook your head and placed a soft kiss to his cheek.

“No… I- If anything, I… I sometimes have dreams about you, too…” You admitted with a quiet tone, looking away.

Miguel nearly went off the rails when you told him that, his pants feeling tighter around his dick. He moved you closer to him once more, moving your hair to the side.

“Mierda… Tell me about your dreams…” Miguel mumbled against you, pressing slow kisses to your cheek and down your neck.

Your thighs pressed together as a wet patch formed in your panties, your stomach flipping as you felt his lips against your skin. A shaky breath left your mouth, nearly moaning from how good it felt to have Miguel treat you this way. It was definitely wrong, but it felt so right. If anyone else had stayed with you two during the late shift and caught you like this, you’d be fired on the spot.

But nobody else was here. Just the two of you.

“S- sometimes I dream about you k- kissing me like this… and even…” Your voice faltered as you quickly grew shy again, biting down on your lip.

Miguel kissed and nipped at your neck, leaving little marks on your skin.

“Go on, Cariño…”

You swallowed before speaking again, letting a soft moan slip out.

“Even… touching me…”

Miguel moaned at that, causing your head to spin even more. You felt so hot that you swore you were going to pass out, but luckily you didn’t. He moved up to place a firm kiss on your lips, pulling away to look at you.

“Have I done anything more than just touching you in your dreams?” Miguel muttered lowly, his lips wet and raw.

You thought for a second before slowly shaking your head with a small breath.

“I always woke up before… before I could find out…” You answered Miguel.

Miguel frowned at that, looking at the marks on your neck before making direct eye contact with you. He sighed and shook his head, clicking his tongue.

“Well… do you wanna know what I’d do to you in my dreams?”

You nodded at him, genuinely curious as to what he dreamed about when you weren’t there with him. His forehead pressed against yours as his lips were centimeters away from your lips, his hands trailing from your waist down to your ass.

“In my dreams… I’d have you sit on my face and I’d make you cum over and over again until your legs give out..”

The image Miguel just gave you nearly made you collapse. You felt weak to your knees, a gentle whine escaping your lips. Miguel squeezed your thighs and kissed you once more, his hands moving up to the hem of your shirt. He parted from you to look at your face.

“Can I?” Miguel asked, wanting to make sure you were okay with this before he went any farther.

You looked at him for a few moments before making a decision, whispering out a small “Yes” to him. He took that as his green light and gently took your coat off first before moving to your shirt. He rolled the material up your body and over your head, helping you take your shirt off. Once you were topless in front of him, Miguel’s eyes scanned your chest. He muttered something quietly in Spanish before letting out a breathy sigh.

“Have I ever told you just how beautiful you are?” He coos softly.

Your face burned up as you felt vulnerable in front of him, but when Miguel spoke, you slowly started to become more comfortable. A bashful expression appeared on your face as you just shook your head.

“Not entirely…”

Miguel hummed gently as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, reaching towards your back to unclip your bra.

“Well… I think you’re the most gorgeous person I’ve ever met… every time I see you, it’s always hard for me to look away. Shit, baby, it’s even hard for me to look away in my dreams. I wouldn’t give it up for any other view… you’re so fucking beautiful, sweetheart” Miguel spoke in between kisses to your face and lips while gently kneading your exposed breasts.

You couldn’t help but moan at his words mixed with his touch, kissing him back each time he placed a kiss onto your soft lips. Miguel couldn’t get enough of the sweet sounds you made, craving even more from you. His hands moved down to unbutton your pants, taking off every last piece of clothing on your body before leaving you completely naked in front of him. Miguel’s breath hitched as he looked at your body.

It was even better than he imagined in his dreams.

Miguel placed small kisses down your neck and collarbone until he made it to your breasts, gently kissing and sucking one while his hand toyed with the other. The sensation made you moan a little louder, biting down on your lip to contain yourself. Miguel seemed to take notice of this and removed his mouth from your nipple.

“You don’t have to be quiet, muñeca… it’s just us. I wanna hear your pretty moans.. god, I’ve been dreaming about this for so long…”

As soon as he said that, his hands gripped your hips and he stared at you with nothing but lust in his eyes. Suddenly, he placed you on top of him as he laid down on the large table in the room. You could feel the tent in his pants right against your wet pussy, a low whine leaving your lips which caused Miguel to groan softly.

“Want you to sit on my face, querida… please…” Miguel begged softly, his hands still on your hips.

You let out a whimper at his request, reluctantly moving so your hips were directly above his face. You were hovering over him, not knowing what else to do. Miguel let out a quiet sigh, not wanting to wait any longer. He wanted to taste you… he had to taste you.

“You’re hovering, sweetheart. Lower your hips for me, ‘kay?” Miguel instructed, looking up at you from between your legs.

You looked down at him, slightly embarrassed from the position you were in. Regardless of how shy you became, you obeyed Miguel anyways, slowly lowering your hips a little.

“Is this g-“ Before you could even get your question out, Miguel’s mouth immediately attached to your clit.

You let out a loud gasp and moaned, Miguel’s tongue exploring your folds and licking up your juices. He let out a low growl that sent vibrations through your body, making you squirm and cry out.

“Joder, nena, sabes tan dulce… todo para mi~” Miguel moaned, his head moving up more to lick and suck on your clit again.

You whimpered as he sucked on your clit again, afraid that you would crush him if you moved your hips any lower. Miguel’s hands moved up to your ass and groped it tightly, his tongue poking your hole and sliding inside of you. The warm and wet feeling made your hands slam down on the table, trying not to drop your hips directly onto his face. Small pants left your mouth as his tongue fucked your hole and his nose brushed up against your sensitive clit, moaning as you kept your eyes shut tightly.

That’s when you felt Miguel’s hands grip your hips and his tongue slips out of your pussy, making you whine in response. You gasp as he pulls your hips down with such force, your eyes widening as you look down at him.

“Ay, Cariño, what did I tell you ‘bout the hovering? Stop hovering and sit on my face” Miguel scolded, spanking your ass as he goes back to licking and sucking your poor abused clit.

You cried out as you felt a new wave of pleasure form inside you, sobbing as he hit all of your spots with his mouth.

“Miguel~! Mig-“ You gasped, pulling his hair with one hand as the other stayed on the table for support.

But Miguel could care less if you suffocated him. Hell, he wanted you to. The sound of his name coming from your lips nearly made him cum in his pants right then and there. Every pretty noise that came out of your mouth was better than his dreams alone, not wanting you to stop. Miguel kissed and teased your clit more, savoring your taste as much as possible. His breath grew heavier and heavier as sweat trickled down his temples, burying his face in your pussy.

Miguel’s mouth left your clit with a small ‘pop’ as he re-entered his tongue inside your soaked hole, making you rut your hips against his face. The way his nose bumped your clit and his warm tongue stuffed inside you made your eyes roll back, your legs twitching already.

“God, don’t stop~ please don’t stop, Miggy~ feels s’good~” You begged pathetically, your shy demeanor now leaving your body.

Miguel moaned against you and spanked your ass hard once more, his fingers digging into your thighs. His own hips twitched against nothing as he listened to your pleads and moans, fucking you with his tongue relentlessly. With the way you begged so nicely for him to keep going, Miguel swore he could feel his precum seeping through his boxers and pants. How could he refuse you?

“Miguel-! I- I think I’m-“ You tried to warn him that you were close, your legs nearly giving out on you.

If it weren’t for Miguel’s large hands holding your hips up, you definitely would’ve collapsed on his face. But you were so desperate to cum, continuing to grind on his face as he licked a fat stripe from your hole to your clit. He caught his breath and looked up at you for a moment, his eyes dark and full of arousal.

“Go ahead, princesa… cum for me” Miguel moaned, going back to sucking your clit.

With just those words alone, the coil inside your stomach broke. You cried out loudly as you came, chanting his name over and over again. Your legs shook and you nearly collapsed onto him, Miguel catching you just in time. He licked up every drop of your release, making sure to not let it go to waste. You whimpered as he continued to lick your sensitive pussy, becoming overstimulated from his tongue. Your hands pressed down onto the table to hold yourself up, catching your breath as you carefully crawled off of his face.

As you sat down on the table next to Miguel, he sat up straight and faced you, panting heavily. Your eyes widened as you saw his chin was soaked from your juices, a dark blush forming across your cheeks. Miguel noticed your face as he finally caught his breath, a small laugh leaving his lips.

“How do you feel?” Miguel asked, licking his lips and wiping his chin off with his coat sleeve.

A soft breath left your mouth as you looked at him, a sheepish smile forming on your face, “I feel… I feel like that was the best thing I’ve ever experienced..”

Miguel chuckled and leaned over to you, placing a tender kiss to your lips. You melted against him and returned the kiss, slowly pulling away to look at him.

“I’m glad I could make you feel like that… say, uh… our shift actually ended like… 10 minutes ago” Miguel spoke as he checked his watch.

Your eyes widened as you looked around for your discarded clothes, Miguel quickly grabbing them before you could get off of the table.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I got it. Just sit for a little bit, catch your breath” He mumbled, putting your clothes back on for you.

Your chest fluttered as he did so, smiling at him in a loving way. Miguel noticed this and chuckled as he helped you put your panties back on.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing… I was just wondering.. do you wanna stay the night at my place?” You offered, moving your hips a little as Miguel clothed you.

Miguel grinned widely at the offer, placing a peck to your forehead and nodding.

“Of course, I’d like that… I’ll buy dinner for us on the way there. My treat for this” Miguel hummed, putting your shirt on and placing soft kisses to your knuckles.

Your smile widened as he said that, pulling him in for a kiss. Miguel wrapped his arms around you as he kissed you back, his forehead pressed against yours as you two pulled away. He helped you off of the table and the both of you made your way out of the building, holding your hand and rubbing his thumb across your skin.

“Oh, by the way… I heard everything that happened with your co-workers. I was listening the whole time” Miguel admitted, looking over at you.

Your head whipped over to him, a surprised expression on your face. “You were-??”

“Yeah, but don’t worry about it. I actually got promoted as a manager a few weeks ago, so…”

Your eyes widened as a small gasp left your lips. “Wait, so that means-“

“That means you won’t be having to deal with them for much longer. I know those assholes have been messing with you since you got here… plus, everything they said about you is wrong. You’re the best worker this place has to offer and those dickheads have been here longer than you have” Miguel responded to you, placing a kiss to your temple.

A grin formed on your lips as joy filled your chest, squeezing Miguel’s hand.

“Thank you, Miguel… that means everything to me.”

“Of course. I gotta make sure my girl is okay.”

You let out a laugh as he said that, placing a soft kiss on his cheek as you walked with him down the street.

“So, is that your way of saying I’m your girlfriend now?” You chuckled.

“Only if you want to be” Miguel answered with a smirk.

You gently smacked his shoulder with your other hand and scoffed playfully, earning a laugh from him.

“Of course I do, Miguel.”

“Good. Because I’m not letting you go.”

[clarionglass]

here we go :) part one of three, updates to be released weekly!

---

sam says 4 (game master cinematic universe, part 3)

Ruby was at her mum's for a family dinner she couldn't miss on pain of death, apparently, and the Doctor was many things, but a family dinner kind of guy wasn't one of them—particularly when Carla had already slapped him once in the short time he'd known her. He thought he'd broken his streak of bad luck with mums, but… well, seemingly not. So he was companionless for a few hours, and while he could wait for her to get back, maybe catch up on his reading—what was the point of waiting when you had a time machine? 

He ran his hands over the TARDIS console, marvelling at her clean lines and metallic flourishes, the way that even now she felt brand new but familiar, and paused. He’d just pop off for a quick adventure, nothing too dangerous, but—where to go?

He could scan for a distress call nearby, and pitch in to help. He could drop in on Donna and Shaun and Rose, beautiful Rose, and see how they were all doing. Or he could just hit the randomiser button, and jump in feet first wherever he ended up.

He remembered a conversation from a long time ago, when he wore a different face, and his gorgeous TARDIS wore a face too, for the first and only time.

“You didn't always take me where I wanted to go.”

“No, but I always took you where you needed to go.”

He grinned. Who could resist an offer like that? He pressed the button and whooped as the time rotor spun into action, ready to see where the universe would take him.

---

Apparently, he was needed pretty close to where he already was. Earth, 2024. Huh. Same planet, same time—within a few months of where he’d left Ruby, even. The main thing that had changed was the location: he was now in the good old US of A. California, to be more specific, and Los Angeles to be more specific still. And to really narrow it down, the Doctor discovered as he poked his head out of the TARDIS doors, he was in… a broom closet. Not bad, as a parking spot—a bit squeezy, but out of the way. And as he poked his head out of that door, he could finally see he was in the backstage corridors of a studio of some kind. Film or TV, if he was to hazard a guess, it was a different vibe from Abbey Road.

With a shrug, he decided to go exploring.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute before a young woman wearing the full-black outfit, headset, and permanently stressed expression of a production assistant came running up to him.

“Are you the fill-in Sam organised?” she asked breathlessly, and honestly, seeing the look on her face, the Doctor didn’t have the heart(s) to tell her no. And really, what was the Doctor, if not a professional fill-in? This, this was why he had a randomiser button on the control panel, because whatever he was about to get himself into was going to be fun.

“Sure!”

“Oh, thank god,” sighed the production assistant, relief dawning across her face. “When Ally tested positive this morning, I thought we were sunk for the record, because we called around and we couldn’t get a hold of anyone. But then Sam said he could get someone in, and, you know, here you are, and just in time, so—ah, yeah, if you could follow me this way?”

Smiling all the way, the Doctor followed his guide through to hair and makeup, looking around as they went. The studio seemed to belong to a company called Dropout, according to the branding scattered around, and things seemed, at least on the surface, to be… well. Fine. He couldn't tell why he'd been brought here yet, which meant that when he found the reason, it was going to be particularly tangled. He couldn't wait! 

And then he looked back at his guide, still engulfed in a miasma of anxiety, and realised he'd been too busy looking for clues to notice the person right in front of him. 

“Hey, it's cool, you've found me,” he started with a gentle smile. “You can relax. Hi, I'm the Doctor. What's your name?”

“Oh!” she said, startled. “The Doctor, yeah, of course. Um, hi, I'm Kaylin. Look, sorry, it's just that I've been so busy this morning, I'm so distracted… Shit, and I would've completely forgotten to get your details too. There's paperwork to fill in, but you can do that later. Um, just for now, though, can I get your pronouns?”

The Doctor thought for a moment. “He/him, for now.”

Kaylin nodded, making a note on her phone. “Okay, cool! And do you have any socials?”

“Not me, babes,” he replied. “I'm hardly sitting down long enough to be able to update, you know?”

“On a day like this, I know exactly what you mean,” she said. “That's okay, Lou didn't have socials either for the longest time. Right, so if you go through there, the team will get you sorted, and once you're done, someone will take you up to the greenroom. All good?”

“All great,” the Doctor replied. Kaylin flashed him a quick, relieved smile, then hurried off.

Hair and makeup was a fairly quick process, the sound mixer fitted him with a microphone, and before too long, Kaylin was back to take him upstairs. 

“This is the greenroom,” she said, pushing the door open. “The rest of the cast for the episode are already here—they’re great guys, and they’ve both been on the show a lot, so they’ll be able to help if you’ve got questions. And if you need anything else, just come find me or any of the other PAs, okay?”

The Doctor nodded, beamed at Kaylin, and walked in.

---

The greenroom was small but comfortable, and its occupants, two men around the same age as the Doctor appeared, looked up as he entered.

“Oh, you’re new,” the taller of the pair said, clearly giving him the once-over.

The other sighed with a mixture of fondness and exasperation, just as clearly used to his friend’s antics.

“Hey, I’m Brennan,” he said, levering himself up to standing from his perch on a chair arm, and holding out a hand. “That’s Grant.”

The Doctor took it warmly. “The Doctor. Just passing through, and happy to help.”

Grant’s eyebrows quirked. “Doctor… something?” he prompted.

“Or is it just ‘the Doctor’?” Brennan asked.

“Just ‘the Doctor’,” the Time Lord confirmed cheerfully. “You’ll get used to it, everyone does.”

Grant didn’t look convinced, but—

“Copy that,” Brennan shrugged, and settled back on the arm of the chair, returning his gaze to the door.

Grant, in turn, looked at the Doctor and rolled his eyes in a clear expression of ‘no, I don’t know why he’s like this, either’.

“Okay,” the Doctor said after a moment of watching the watching. “I wasn’t going to ask, but now I think I have to. What’s up with the door?”

Brennan huffed a laugh. “Well, the last time there was one of those up—” he pointed to the Out of Order sign stuck to the bathroom door, “—we got locked in here for the game.”

“He’s paranoid,” Grant interjected.

“Well, yeah, maybe,” Brennan retorted. “Or just cautious. Because Sam’s been acting weird lately, and we’re coming up to the last few records of the season, so he’s probably planning something way out of the box for the finale. And the original cast was you, me and Beardsley, so…”

He shrugged one shoulder meaningfully, and Grant nodded, conceding both the point and the potential for chaos.

“So if Sam comes in to give us the briefing, rather than waiting til we’re on set,” Brennan continued, “or there’s anything else weird going on, I’m gonna know about it right from the beginning.”

He turned to the Doctor. “The only reason I'm not quizzing you is because I know for a fact Beardsley was genuinely scheduled for this, so you can't be a plant by the production team. No offence.”

“None taken,” the Doctor smiled. “That sort of thing happen often, does it?”

Grant and Brennan exchanged a look. 

“More than you'd think,” Grant answered with a grimace. 

“Alright,” the Doctor said slowly, then brightened. “So what is it we're actually doing?”

Grant gave him a disbelieving glance. “You don't know—?”

“Very last minute fill-in,” the Doctor said breezily. “But don't worry, I'm a quick study.”

“Well, you're not that much worse off than the rest of us,” Brennan said encouragingly. “You know about Game Changer, obviously, if you know Sam, and we only find out the rules of the game once we get on set. Hopefully,” he added, with a dark look back at the Out of Order sign. 

The Doctor nodded. No, he didn't know Sam, and he didn't know Game Changer, but he could work out the situation from context clues. This was a game show. And with the Toymaker banished, and Satellite Five not coming into existence for another 198000 years, give or take, he found himself smiling. Maybe third time would be the charm. 

“Mmm, hopefully they aren't going to throw you in the deep end,” Grant said. “Because Brennan might seem lovely now, but as soon as we get out there, he's a whore for points. He'll stab you in the back and won't even blink.”

Brennan barked with laughter. “Yeah, and you wouldn't?”

“Excuse you, I'm always a goddamn delight,” Grant replied, the very picture of injured dignity. 

“Oh, absolutely!” agreed a new voice. The Doctor turned to the now-open door to see a bearded man in a pinstriped suit smiling broadly. “That's why we keep inviting you back!”

Grant bowed sarcastically. “Why, thank you, Sam. Good to know I'm appreciated by someone here.”

“Always,” Sam replied, gently but firmly ending that particular path of the conversation. He scanned the room, and his eyes lit up when they landed on the Doctor. 

“Ah, you must be the Doctor!” he said with obvious delight, walking over with his hand outstretched. “I'm Sam—thanks for filling in for us, you've made sure we're going to have a good show. Seriously, it's a pleasure to have you here.”

“Aw, cheers!” the Doctor smiled, shaking the offered hand. “Glad I could help out, I'm really looking forward to this!”

“Well, great!” Sam exclaimed, then took a step back, regarding all three players in turn. “Now, folks, I'm just letting you know that we're just about ready to start the record, so if you can start heading down, that'd be great.”

Grant and Brennan nodded—Brennan, the Doctor noticed, with relief. 

“See you down there,” Sam said, smiling. “Have a great show, and—”

His eyes caught on the Doctor's for a second, twinkling. 

“Good luck.”

---

Backstage, the Doctor, Brennan and Grant were marshalled into podium order and given a final briefing from the crew. And then, with a thumbs-up from Kaylin, that was it.

Showtime.

“Get ready for a Game Changer!” came Sam's voice from onstage. “Tonight’s guests: he can shoot off a monologue with laser accuracy; it’s Brennan Lee Mulligan!”

Brennan, his back to the camera as the curtains opened, spun on his heel and, with a stone-cold expression, pointed finger guns straight down the barrel, before letting the facade crack open. “Hi!” he exclaimed, and walked over to the leftmost podium.

“It’s his first appearance, but he’s already on fire; it’s the Doctor!”

The Doctor leant against the archway to the stage and flashed a broad smile towards the camera, then in a few skipping steps, had bounded over to the next free podium. What the hell, why not make an entrance?

“And even in the toughest of mazes, you’ll always be able to find him; it’s Grant O’Brien!”

Grant dipped his lanky frame into an approximation of a curtsey, spreading his arms wide, then sauntered over to the closest podium with a grin.

“And your host, me!” Sam announced, a ring of manic white showing around his irises as he beamed down the barrel of the camera. “I’ve been here the whole time!”

“This,” he continued, pushing his microphone shut and stowing it in his jacket pocket, “is Game Changer, the only game show where the game changes every show. I am your host, Sam Reich!” 

As he said his name, he looked at his hands, front and back, as if he was pleasantly surprised to be himself, then gestured towards the three podiums.

“I am joined today by these three lovely contestants! Now, you understand how the game works.”

“Of course not,” Grant started. “You know we don't.”

“We can't, Sam, that's the whole point of the theatre you've set up here,” Brennan said over him. 

“Not yet,” was all the Doctor said, anticipation starting to drum a tattoo of excitement against the inside of his ribcage. 

���That’s right!” Sam said brightly, shooting finger guns at the camera. “Our players have no idea what game it is they’re about to play. The only way to learn is by playing. The only way to win is by learning, and the only way to begin is by beginning! So without further ado, let’s begin by giving each of our players fifty points.”

The Doctor, biding his time, watched the reactions of his fellow contestants. Grant looked at the front of his podium, checking the point total, and nodding approvingly when he saw that yes, it was sitting at a round fifty. Brennan, on the other hand, was starting to frown.

“Players, Sam says: touch your nose,” Sam began, and Brennan sighed the sigh of someone who wasn’t happy to be proved right.

“Oh, no,” he groaned. “Oh, you son of a bitch. Wasn’t one this season enough?”

He touched his nose anyway, as did the others, and Sam smiled encouragingly. “Sam says: touch your ear.”

When they all did, Sam nodded. “Touch your other ear.”

Everybody held still, fingers on the ears they had originally touched.

Sam beamed. “Easy, players, right?”

“You say that now,” Brennan said darkly. “Which makes it worse, because all you're doing is setting us up for failure.”

Sam gasped, pretending offence. “Would I do that?”

“Yes,” Brennan and Grant replied in unison, which drew a grin from the Doctor and set Sam off chuckling.

“And I'm not having it,” Brennan continued, leaning his elbows against his podium and pointing at Sam with the hand not touching his ear. “You better watch yourself, because I know how this game works, and you're not going to get one over on me.”

“Strong words, Brennan!” Sam said, clearly delighted by this response. “Okay, then, let's start making things a bit more interesting!”

The game continued as per Sam Says usual, some rounds done as a group and some individual. Points were won, sure, but lost slightly more frequently, and even the Doctor found he was having to concentrate to avoid getting caught in the host's traps. 

It was fun. Genuinely, it was like playing a game with friends, and the Doctor felt himself leaning into it. There wasn't any sign of danger—maybe there wasn't a mystery to solve at all, and the TARDIS just decided he needed a total break. 

Well, probably not. But the way things were going, he was able to let himself hope. 

“Alright, players,” Sam said a good few rounds in, just as pleasantly as he would start any other question, and the screen behind him dinged as a new prompt popped up. “Survive the death beam.”

For a second, everything was frozen perfectly still. 

And then came the crash, the explosive noise of heavy machinery moving relentlessly through a drywall set.

The Doctor was already moving. “Everyone down!”

“Duck!” Brennan yelled at the same time.

The two of them hit the ground within milliseconds of each other, but Grant was still paralysed in the face of the giant, science-fiction type laser cannon that had just ploughed through the wall. 

It whined ominously, screaming its way to fever pitch. And then a sharp pain in Grant’s ankle made him stagger, pitching forwards onto the carpet behind the podiums as the Doctor rolled away to avoid getting pinned.

“Sorry, babes,” the Doctor whispered. “But it was either kick you to get you down, or—”

A hideous metallic screech ripped through the air, and all three of them could feel the crackle of ozone as a beam of energy swept across what had, moments ago, been neck height.

“…Or that,” the Doctor finished with a grimace.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Grant breathed, suddenly very conscious of every inch of his 6’9 frame. “Thanks.”

“Well done, players!” Sam exclaimed delightedly from above them. “But… sorry, I didn’t say ‘Sam says’, so that’s a point off for everyone.”

“What the fuck!” Brennan snapped.

“Are you actually insane?” Grant demanded at the same time, his voice overlapping with Brennan’s.

In response, Sam just wheezed with laughter. “You can come back to your podiums,” he said, cheerfully ignoring them.

Nobody moved.

“Very good!” he acknowledged, and even without seeing his face, the grin was obvious in his voice. “Okay, Sam says: come back to your podiums.”

Although the words were innocuous, and his tone was just as light and breezy as usual, there was nevertheless an edge hiding just underneath the surface. And while the death beam loomed large in the minds of all three players, it was impossible to consider disobedience as an option.

Slowly, they stood, returning to their places. Now they had the time to look at it properly, the death beam was even more sinister, and Brennan and Grant both kept flicking nervous glances its way, ready to move if it looked like it was charging up again.

The Doctor, however, was focused purely on the man standing in front of them. Unbothered, Sam met his gaze like a challenge, a mischievous smile playing about his lips.

“Oh, you’ll love this one,” he said, and the screen changed. “Sam says, starting with Grant: say my name.”

Grant frowned in confusion, but answered quickly nonetheless. “Sam Reich?”

The man himself shrugged tolerantly, moving on. “Brennan?”

Brennan just stared at him coolly. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“Well caught, Brennan!” Sam said happily. “Sam says: say my name.”

“Sam,” Brennan replied, suspicion clear in his voice. “Samuel Dalton Reich.”

He nodded, still with a hint of indifference. “And lastly, Doctor.” His smile broadened. “Sam says: say my name.”

It was easy. Too easy. And as the Doctor looked into the eyes of the man calling himself Sam Reich, he felt his hearts stutter in recognition, because something had changed. He wasn’t hiding himself anymore, and while the face was different yet again, the Doctor would know the shape of that soul anywhere. It was impossible. It was inevitable.

“You can’t be,” he breathed. 

Sam smirked, leaning in across his podium. “Oh, but Doctor… I’ve been here the whole time,” he stage-whispered with a wink.

“He said you lost,” the Doctor said, shaking his head, looking wrong-footed for the first time that Brennan and Grant could recall. “You lost, and he trapped you.”

The other two watched, uncomprehending, but Sam just smiled, drumming his fingers against the podium with an audible beat, fast but distinct. Four taps, four taps, four taps. “I’m waiting.”

The Doctor took a slow, deep breath. Set his jaw. 

“Master.”

---

missed an installment of the game master cinematic universe?

original idea by @ace-whovian-neuroscientist: x

art by @northernfireart concept: x scissor sisters sketch: x sam and his doppelganger: x

writing by me (!) part one (escape the greenroom): x part two (deja vu): x part three (sam says 4): you are here!

[landossnorriss]

i see you, the puppy addition - ln x she.

Pairing: lando x she. Summary: with all the stress landos dealt with recently, doesn't he deserve a dog?. series links. Word Count: 1.4ishk Warning: just fluff.

he had wanted a dog for as long as she had been dating him, that much she recalled. it had always been a topic every few months, of whether not they thought that they were in a position to have one yet and they always reasoned that they were both too busy to make such a commitment.

then mclaren had surprised him with damn puppies, she had caught him watching the video at least six times now and swiping past the photos he had taken of the small baby boy that he had fallen in love with. it had been a smart and dumb move on their part, to tempt the man in such a way. their pr team deserved a raise though because she hadn't seen one comment about the rough few weeks that lando had had below the video and instead it was all love for how cute he looked.

crawling onto the bed she spread herself out on top of him, her hand nudging the phone away from him. "you're only going to make yourself sadder if you keep looking at him." she mused, reaching to press a kiss to his chin, her own pout matching his as lando sighed under her. "i just wish it was the right time, but even with summer break coming up..." he trailed off and she knew that he was going through the same string of arguments in his head that he always did.

come the morning they were both meant to go and join martin for a string of shows over the week and she knew lando had a string of friends that he wanted to get time with during the break. "you really don't think between us we could make it work?" she asked quietly as she looked back at him. she hadn't been at MTC with him when he'd shot the promo videos but she had been waiting for him at home and the man that had returned to her was the happiest that she had seen him in, well weeks.

"i just don't know how it would be fair." lando muttered.

"not even if charles and lewis make it work?"

"i don't know...i wouldn't want to be a bad dog dad, besides, i doubt he's still there now anyway." the driver muttered as he pressed his lips to her head. "and we're flying out tomorrow."

"actually...i have a job that i had to rearrange to be at one of the races and they can't wait any longer, so i'm going to be a little late to spain, just a day or so." she confessed quietly as she lifted her head to look at him, eyes rolling at the face he was back to looking at the photos on his screen. "it'll happen when its the right time lan."

lando nodded, putting the phone down and rolling them over so that he was looking down at her. she was right, he was already grateful for so much in his life, and they were young they'd have time to be responsible and settle later. "you're right, i'll delete the pictures tonight." maybe, he'd try anyway, right now he was quite content to distract himself as his kisses trailed down her jaw.

--------------------------------------------

there was every chance, that she had taken it too far this time, from the days they had just been friends, she had loved surprising lando. the genuine awe that he wore on his face each and every time even if it was something small had kept her addicted to the habit, but this?

god he was going to kill her.

it felt like she had been travelling none stop all day. on the phone to various different people, bribing the media guys at mclaren for favors and information. bargains made with andrea and zak as she checked a few things over. now she was on her way to greece where she would meet lando and martin and well - he was going to love her or he was going to kill her.

it didn't matter how much the surprise in her hands had cost in large donations and pleading with a family that had been ready to take it that this dog was already spoken for. they had thought she was crazy at first, then they'd bribed her with paddock passes for next years silverstone when she had managed to prove who she was. then lots and lots of paper work had needed to be done so that she could even leave england with her surprise again and it was good job the surprise she held in her hands was cute because she had barely slept with all the excitement.

checking into the hotel, with more bribes to the men behind the counter and promises of very big tips for being such accommodating hosts and she was finally on the home stretch to being able to rest. well, maybe, lando would decide that when she let herself into their room.

"lan? love are you home?" she called as she kicked off her sandals in the door way, her hand clamped over a tiny snout to keep the secret alive for just a moment longer.

"in here!" lando called from the bathroom where he was finishing getting dressed for the day, his attention on the clasp of his watch as the footsteps drew closer to him.

"hi baby." the way in which she said it had lando raising a brow before he had even turned to look at her, she was up to something. spinning in his spot lando paused for a second as he took in her face. guilty. then he heard the small noise that had been ingrained into his brain for the past week and his eyes, shit, they grew misty as he took in the small creature in her arms.

"baby...." he asked cautiously as he took in the sight before him. "what did you do?"

"are you mad at me? please don't be mad, i just, you were so happy lan i haven't seen you smile like that in so long and look." holding up her hands she lifted their new puppy so that he was face to face with lando and she watched as her boyfriend melted before the puppy, hands reaching out to take him from her. "hi little man, i missed you." lando beamed softly as he buried the puppy under his chin, the small creature immediately at ease with the smell he seemed to recognise from lando, little teeth finding the necklace he wore.

"love, we said we didn't have the time for a dog." lando urged but the battle was already won.

"i know i know, but i made a schedule of at least the next three months on the plane over, alex is happy to watch him with leo in the one week that we're both totally unavailable and i spoke to zak and andrea, on the weekends i can't have him, they're happy for him to be at races with you. he's your soul dog lando." she fought back as she stepped into the arm that lando had offered out to her.

"i thought you were flying for work." he chuckled gently as he felt their puppy lick at his hand, moving to do the same to his loves just as quickly. "but i love you so fucking much you know that?" lando wasn't sure, what the hell he'd done in the past to deserve her, but he adored her with his whole heart. "we have a dog. i can't believe you would do this for me."

"we have a dog lan. and i love you, i love you so much there isn't a thing i wouldn't do for you." she beamed, laughing pouring from her as she scratched behind tiny puppy ears. "i also had to give away paddock passes to convince another family not to take him, if you could organise those for me." she muttered quietly earning herself a loud laugh from the driver.

"damn baby, you're something else." but he'd do anything for her, she'd flown for a damn puppy for him. "what are we going to name him?" he asked quietly

"i've been calling him rover, since he's going to be wandering all over the world with us, but we can change it, he's your dog." looking at the pair of them, she knew she had done the right thing, his smile was bad and the puppy was utterly in love with him. now she would always have a little ally in making sure that they kept lando smiling, just the way he was right now as he looked down at her.

"no i love it." lando thought it was perfect, just like his little family. "welcome home little rover, we see you."

[mo-online]

"the other ravens didn't know jean's age!!!"

think of any 16 year old boy you know. does he look like an adult to you? would you call him a whore if you'd found out he'd gotten into five different men's beds in less than a week?

no?

then think of a scrawny, underfed 16 year old boy. his face is bony, but not quite sharp. his nose is crooked, and a part of you thinks that maybe he just hasn't grown into his own face yet, at least until the bruising makes you want to look away before you can think about it any harder. none of his clothes fit him quite right, and you can always hear his joints popping in and out of place. he has the thickest accent you've ever heard, and you still don't quite know what he's saying most of the time, even if he swears it's english and looks close to tears if you insist it's anything but too loudly (he's only been in america for two years and it's hard to grasp much when all you have to develop your language skills from is cruel insults).

he's not as tall as the rest of the court yet — actually, he's far from it. he's not spared enough to build any muscle, even throughout the relentless practices, and he always looks five seconds from passing out by the time the drills even start. he's sweating, panting, and there's a rattling in his chest when he does... has he broken a rib? why is he even here? he's not as big, not nearly as strong, and the other ravens zero in on him until he's a puddle on the floor. he can barely keep his own racquet steady in his hands, and when he props it up to lean on, you realize he isn't much bigger than the damn thing itself. the captain is always dragging him around, sometimes by his wrist, sometimes by his hair. you think it's just messy hazing for a while, and maybe you dare to spare him a pitiful nod and hope for his sake it'll end soon, but months go by and it never does. he's doubled over one day, then running laps the next, and god, why does he always reek of blood? you start to notice his fingers as they change colors, once bony and milky pale, now bruised black and blue and crusted over with scabs. they're misshapen... broken, almost every one. he shouldn't be playing like this, but he tugs his gloves on with his teeth and plays through the pain.

you pass his room on your way to bed, door wide open. he sleeps curled up in a ball, back pressed so hard against the wall, knees into his chest. you can hear his shaky breaths, how his lungs rattle uneasily, even in his sleep. he shakes himself awake from nightmares, gripping the sheets, dry heaving as he forces his own face into the pillow to muffle the sound... but he does not scream. he does not cry. poor kid, you think, because what else could you call him? he's far too beaten down to even think to consider an adult. a puppy kicked one too many times.

the captain calls everyone into a room, arms folded over his chest, face smug as if he'd come up with a solution to the entire world's problems. but there's something strange about the meeting. only backliners. gigantic, sneering, male backliners. he asks for volunteers, a few good samaritans to "fuck some sense into him," and you watch as five greedy hands fight to be the first in the air. riko makes his pick, makes his promise, and for the next week it's all you can hear at night. you wouldn't call it moaning, but... screaming. fighting. teeth and claws and fickle words. "please. please stop. please stop. please—" and then silence. the last night all you hear is defeated silence.

and suddenly it's the child's fault, isn't it? everyone else is saying it, that he slept his way onto the lineup, that he's nothing more than a braindead whore. if everyone's saying it, though, does that make it true?

or is it just easier to stomach?

[paddockbunny]

Fraternisation Clause II

Summary : Working for McLaren is hard, being Lando’s PR girl is even harder….so maybe you need to make a tough decision that will be even harder yet Rating : 18+ Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader Word Count : 4005 words Trigger Warnings : language but clean, kissing but nothing NSFW Images : curated from Pintrest Authors Note : same as part 1, there’s a couple of bits that probably don’t make a whole lot of sense but hey, it’s a work of fiction people ☺️

Sakhir ‘23

You fanned yourself with the notebook you were holding in your hands. You watched as the timings on the screen were continually switching, shifting, and jumping around. Every now and then you were writing things down in your little black notebook. Ideas, things to pitch to the team, notes about managerial style - in truth you just wanted to show people you were suited for the job. During winter break you caught up with your old superior and mentor Charlotte to give you some pointers and help with the step up. She was so helpful but reiterated to just “fake it til you make it”.

As your mind wandered your eyes panned over toward Toto Wolff and instantly you attempted to shrug off the feelings of imposter syndrome. He thought you were good enough. He wouldn’t have suggested you to the Chief PRM if he didn’t. You found out from Zak on your last day last season that Toto himself had enquired about you and called you a “hard little worker” which filled you with confidence. If he saw your potential then you needed to believe in yourself. In your head you internally repeated; “I am good enough, I deserve this position, I can do this.”

In the afternoon you walked down the paddock with your new ward, Lewis fucking Hamilton. The man was a God in your household. Ever since he entered F1 your whole motorsport mad family acted like he was the new messiah. You naturally loved him because it was who everyone was always rooting for and in all seriousness, he was the reason you wanted to work in the sport in the first place. You had several pinch me moments throughout the day. First when he handed you his phone to hold while he signed some autographs. The second when he sweetly placed a hand on your back to stop someone bumping into you. And the latest was when he complimented your sense of humour making you blush so hard you were scared your cheeks would become Ferrari red. It was as if you were in an alternative universe and you were living your childhood dreams. It was completely surreal. You weren’t to be his PR overseer but since they were currently not available due to the birth of their baby overlapping the beginning of the season you were happy to step in for the next coming few months.

Approaching the Mercedes garage you realised the euphoria feeling wasn’t to last long. Heading in the opposite direction (and straight toward you) was Lando (and the new girl they hired to replace you). You wanted him to catch your eye. You wanted him to at least smile at you. Lewis said hey as you all glided past one another. Lando nodded in response.

“Hey!” You took the opportunity when he was close to say hello and nothing. Zilch. Nada. He didn’t even look at you. “That was frosty,” Lewis looked at you. You didn’t want rumours to start or any questions raised so immediately lied. “Ah, he’s joking. When I left he said he would have to ignore me now I was a traitor.” I laughed and Lewis raised a small smile “Just don’t be a traitor to Mercedes and you’ll be fine.” He jested. But you bit into the inside of your lip as you felt nothing but sadness. Lando cut you off so easily and acted as if your friendship meant nothing to him. He didn’t even want to look at you. It was as if you didn’t exist now you were in white and not orange. You had spent many nights over winter break worried if you had done the right thing. You flip flopped between moving to Merc or leaving the sport all together. You felt like a teenager again concerned about a boy and friendships. But you also realised you were being completely ridiculous. If it were true what everyone joked about and he really did have feelings for you or even just a fondness for you, then he had to have known he was going to get hurt. There was no way he wouldn’t know about the fraternisation clause and him ignoring you really was because you were dead to him.

Australia ‘23

Race three and the third one that Lando had totally ignored you. And while you were annoyed, pissed off and frustrated you shrugged it off. If he wanted to act like a petulant child then fine. You had done nothing wrong. There was no point getting upset about it. You couldn’t force him to speak to you and you knew you couldn’t cause a scene even if you could. But you took the time to focus on work. It was important to you after all.

After qualifying - when Lewis came a disappointing 11th - the media duties were tedious and boring. The same questions being peddled again and again and again. It was monotonous and repetitive. So far it was the lowest Lewis had qualified in three races and none of the journalists’ failed to bring it up. No one could blame him for any of the answers he gave in response. You tried to get the rounds done as quick as possible and get Lewis out of there. It felt like it was taking forever till the final interview ended and the pair of you swiftly headed for the media pen exit. But the universe wanted to fuck with you today as while you and Lewis were heading out Lando and Chloe - his new PR officer - we’re heading in. There was no way you could hide. You braced yourself for the awkwardness of the situation.

“Lando….” You smiled and he just tiled his head back and turned his attention back to Lewis. You noted how Chloe clocked the international and prayed she would just ignore it. It was awkward enough and you didn’t want to have to answer questions that you didn’t even know the answer too. Small talk was exchanged between drivers before finally you could get back to work and get Lewis back in time for the Merc briefing.

Lewis headed away inside ahead of you and just as you were about to ascend the stairs when your name was called from behind and there was your former colleague Sarah who threw her arms around you.

“I’ve missed you! I can’t believe we haven’t seen each other since we got back” She held on to me tighter and you agreed with her. You missed the laughing and the camaraderie of being a part of that team. They were all wonderful humans who each made working a total pleasure - something you needed when you were away from home so much. Conversation flowed easily. You spoke about your new roles and how different Merc was to McLaren and she told you all about her new boyfriend. It twigged something inside of you and for some reason you took it as the perfect segway to ask about Lando.

“How is Chloe getting on? Is she managing Lando?” You smiled to show her you didn’t mean anything bad from your words. But she immediately gave you a look, one you knew exactly what she meant. “In one word, No!” She exclaimed. “She’s been struggling to gain his respect. I think shes not firm enough and is a bit too placid. He walks all over her. Its not like how he was with you. He’s being a bit of a pain in the arse to work with.” This you already knew if you were being honest. You had observed it yourself in the paddock.

“Do you think you could do something?” She asked and it truthfully took you aback. You hadn’t expected her to make this request of you. It took you aback considering Lando’s sudden distrust and even hatred toward you. With a sigh you admitted it for the first time;

“Sarah, I don’t know what I CAN do. He doesn’t speak to me anymore. He won’t even look at me. Ever since I left he acts like I’m poisonous or something.” She furrowed her brows in confusion. “Wait, what?” She expressed. “I don’t understand. He adored you. He talks about you so all the time!” She exclaimed. “He doesn’t speak to you anymore? Not even to say hi?” You shook your head. “Wow!”

“I know. I know we were just colleagues but it feels like I’ve lost my best friend, Sarah.” “Yeah it would, you spent so much time with him.” She sighed “Wait, you don’t think he’s actually y’know, been in love with you? I know we used to jest about it but…”

You shook your head. It was something you had spent hours upon hours considering. It was plausible and it wasn’t exactly as if it was what you had been afraid of when you left - not to mention WHY you left. At the absolute most he may have had a slight infatuation with you but that was it. You were now 100% positive of that. He wouldn’t have refused to look at you if he had remotely even fancied you.

China ‘23

P2.

That was where Lando finished. On the podium. You had to hide your smile and bite your inner cheek. Lewis finished P9 so it was another tough one. No one in the garage had even the faintest smile upon their faces when the race came to a close.

As Lewis gave his fourth interview you attempted to pay attention when behind you a jubilant, triumphant Lando waltzed into the media pen. You stared, his curls still wet from champagne clung to his forehead. He needed his hat. He always needed his hat after he had been up on the podium, he used it to control his hair so it didn’t get frizzy - he didn’t want to be on TV with frizzy hair you remembered. You looked at Chloe and it wasn’t in her hand so you wondered if she had forgotten. This was Sarah had been hinting at back in Aus. She wasn’t prepared enough and Lando was eating her alive. You knew how he could be and how he could get sometimes and you knew the tricks to calm him down. As Lewis moved on you quickly grabbed her arm.

“When he’s finished, give him water. He won’t drink it but he’ll use it to smooth his hair out a bit. Don’t worry about the hat. I did it too.” You had never once forgotten his hat but you didn’t want her to feel bad. She mouthed you a thank you and followed your advice immediately. Lando paid her no attention. You felt him staring at you. His eyes locked on you and you had no idea how to read it. It made you nervous which angered you. He had no right to make you feel nervous anymore.

His next interview was the one right beside you and Lewis. And you knew he stood closer to you on purpose. He was only a few feet behind. You could hear his answers, zoning out of Lewis’ completely. He was talking about the win and something that happened on track. He laughed at a joke and then started praising everyone at McLaren. He mentioned Chloe by name and you wondered if he was doing it on purpose. You were sure he was.

“Everything is going the right way and we’ve got a good team now, I have a good team behind me finally.” It was a gut punch. Lewis was finished and you turned off the recording on your phone. Your face had fallen and he immediately asked if you were ok. You nodded. Just a nod. Annoyance took over your body and you didn’t want to say something you might regret. Lewis’ hand gently caressed your back and if only your younger self could see you now. Soothed by Lewis Hamilton after being incensed by Lando Norris.

You could barely lead the PR team meeting you had been so distracted. You tried to give feedback on socials over the course of the weekend but kept thinking about how Lando had tried to throw you under the bus earlier. He had insinuated you were no good and it was such a grossly childishly, petulant stunt to pull. You struggled on to take notes on feedback from the team but you had let it stew inside you. So when finally you told everyone to head back to the hotel and get a drink to chill out, you tried to think of a way to sneak into the McLaren camp to speak to him (or give him a piece of your mind at least). You hadn’t realised but you had been sitting for a while just staring at the table. And it was Lewis who brought you out of your daze as he was walking past to head home.

“Are you sure you are ok?” You snapped and took a big inhale. The attempt you made to brush his concern off didn’t work. “Lando?” He asked “that was a dick answer today” you hadn’t realised he had heard it and you sighed while rolling your eyes. “You should talk to him.” “I can’t. He ignores me in the paddock and I can’t just waltz into his drivers room anymore.” “You can’t, but I can. Come on.” He as good as ordered you to stand up and follow him. You were going to get a bollocking for this. He shouldn’t have been doing this, least of all for you! It probably wouldn’t even work anyway.

“Norris still here?” He asked and the two mechanics he asked looked instantly starstruck. It was how most people reacted to Lewis and he clearly knew it. They nodded and pointed to where his drivers room was. “Cool just need to collect something…oh wait…” he slipped his phone out of his pocket and he said your name “can you get it for me? I need to take this.” AND THAT WAS IT! It was that simple. His face card never declined. One of the mechanics registered it was you and smiled. Astonishment befell you as he simply turned back to packing up some of the tools. It was as if you hadn’t left at all. Lewis’ spot on acting (and face card) was all you needed to slip past and enter the inner sanctum you had once known so well.

Steadying your breathing you raised a hand to the door and rapped quickly in succession. What was the worst that could happen? That he slam the door in your face? At least you would know once and for all he despised and loathed you. It took a few seconds for the door handle to depress. You swallowed hard. Hoping Lewis’ persistence you talk to him - and giving you no time to refuse - would at least earn you some answers. Or perhaps you would need to be the one sharing them, you thought as suddenly Lando was standing in front of you, face to face.

“Can we talk?” Your voice wasn’t as confident as you hoped it would have been as it flowed out of you. Lando stepped aside, a silent gesture to allow you in. You pushed your better judgment about it aside and walked over the threshold. No going back.

What proceeded wasn’t exactly an argument but it was two people who had clearly very different views on the past couple of months and the desolation of their close friendship. Lando protested he had done nothing wrong. That he was treating you the same as anyone else who had left the team (which was completely and utterly untrue). You called him a child and he scoffed. The fight to remain calm was hard. You wanted to shout at him and plead that he see sense.

“You wanted bigger better things. You didn’t want to stay here, with me.” It hit you in the centre of your chest and you felt all of the emotions rush at you. The ones that you had bottled up for the whole past year. It was you who was childish. You were transported back into being a scared teenage girl who didn’t believe she could be desired - or loved. You had done as he suggested. You ran as soon as you knew things were getting a bit too close with him. But still you tried to deny it;

“Lando…I don’t know where you’ve got that from but I,..”“Please, I’m not fucking stupid.” He seriously couldn’t believe that? “I didn’t leave because of you….well I did but it was because of me, because of…how we were” You couldn’t quite find the words. His confusion plastered all over his face.

“What does that even mean?” “Because of how close we were.” You admitted but he was looking at you - staring at you - in sheer disbelief at your words. “Stop talking in riddles” He demanded and you simply just stopped talking altogether because you couldn’t find the right words and didn’t even know how to say what you wanted to actually say. The silence grew within the small room and it was suffocating.

“God, you’re so fucking…” Out of the blue he groaned through gritted teeth. And that was all it took. It pushed you over the edge. You couldn’t stand it anymore.

“There’s a clause in the contracts. No fraternisation between employees” Lando looked at you blankly. The words you had uttered weren’t registering with him.

“It means two employees of McLaren cannot be employed and be in a relationship or be, intimate or whatever. They could be… they could loose their jobs and considering YOU are Lando FUCKING Norris, YOU aren’t going anywhere. I would have lost my job and my career and everything I’ve worked for…”

“When? Why would you have lost everything? What do you mean?” He interrupted. This time you were so frustrated. Not just with him - and his his blatant naivety and how he wasn’t able to read between the lines - but because he had you feeling something. Something completely and utterly reckless. But your conscience didn’t kick in in time to register what exactly you were doing. It was all simply out of your control. The following series of manoeuvres that were as if you had become possessed.

You strode purposefully and confidently over to him. Body slamming against his with a sexual ferocity you had never experienced within yourself before. Outstretched hands reached out and pulled his face to yours. Lips attaching. It felt like it was completely normal to be kissing him. As if the world had willed it. Then you felt his hands gripping, grasping and seizing your sides like they belonged there. The sheer sense of overwhelming comfort overcame you, you felt to at home there in his arms with his tongue toying with your own. It was a feeling that was enough to startle you and so you pulled back.

“That. That is what I mean.” You were out of breath and you would have been speechless but he needed to understand what you had been attempting to convey. Like a scene from a Shakespearean play, you relinquished all control and gave in as Lando slid his hand effortlessly against your neck. His eyes seemed to go on staring into yours as if he was sending you a silent signal that he understood. It was enough to send a shiver up your spine. It came from pure unadulterated want, desire, need. And you succumbed to it all. Your lips went back to his.

Seconds, minutes or hours could have passed as you relaxed as he kissed you. Everything blended all into one and memories of all of those months you had spent denying your obvious attraction to him flickered quickly in your mind. For a brief moment Lando stopped and pulled his lips from yours. “Do you think I would have let them fire you?” Lando asked. “I would have walked before I let them do that.”

“Lan…” he pecked your lips to shut you up and you let him.

It was like one of the smutty dreams you had last year but, undeniably better. His pouty, reddened lips trailed down to your jaw and you tried hard not to gasp when he continued his decent to your neck. He softly groaned and the vibration made you feel woozy.

“I’ve dreamt about kissing you for years.” His admission. All of the jesting and joking had indeed been true and he tried to kiss you again but you pulled back. Scared of how far you would let him go.

“Lando, we cant…” “You don’t work for McLaren anymore. There’s no contract saying you can’t kiss me.” He had a point. A very strong valid point. Your eyes and his were locked together. You were searching his green orbs to find something, anything, that you could convince you kissing him again was a bad idea. Your heart thundered in your chest and you realised your breathing was erratic and you were breathless.

You were about to surrender and give into him. Feeling his sudden desire for you exuding his body. His hunger radiated through him, you could feel it reverberating into you. And truthfully, there was nothing you craved more than wanting to feel his lips again. But as a knock echoed around his drivers room, you snapped back into reality. You grabbed something inconsequential and laughed loudly just as the door opened. It was a desperate attempt to cover up your tracks and explain why you were in a rival team’s driver room.

“Thank you so much for this. He can’t believe he left without it…” You tried the best you could as Chloe, your replacement stared at you suspiciously. “No problem, I only remembered this morning.” Lando played along and you swallowed as you felt the newbies eyes on you.

“Have a good week off, Lando. Get some rest.” Any thoughts of kissing him again had now been forgotten about. The only thing that consumed you was getting out of the way and back to the safety of the Mercedes camp. You walked (pretending to do so calmly) as fast as your feet could carry you. It was so stupid of you to be so flippantly brazen. What the fuck did you think was going to happen? How could you have been so moronic to go to his drivers room of all places? You glanced down at the headset in your hands and saw the McLaren logo staring back at you. It didn’t even make any sense as to why Lewis would need this. What had you been thinking? You scoffed, it was so fucking obvious that you weren’t thinking at all. All of your thoughts were so consumed about your predicament you didn’t watch where you were going and ran straight into your boss - practically head first…well, your head to his chest. His large, imposing body sent you jolting backward and instinctively your hands flew up and against his wide, broad, muscular chest for stability.

“Toto, oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You exclaimed but he just smiled down at you. You felt so small in his presence. While you had gotten more comfortable around him in the past coming months and even started to have a bit of banter with him, you were still intimidated by him.

“Where are you going so fast, kleines kätzchen?”* you didn’t speak German so had no idea what he said but the fact his eyes were soft and he was still smirking meant it couldn’t be anything bad. “Just uh, I forgot something.” You tried to quell the rushing thoughts in your head. “A McLaren headset?” He motioned to your hands. FUCK!! You needed to quickly modify the story because he (of all people) would not buy the Lewis story.

“It’s silly” You tried to cover up “A game with Lando before I left, it’s my winnings.” You prayed it might miraculously sound convincing. “A souvenir” He added nodding.

“Yes, something like that.” You agreed but your lips tingled and you wondered if Lando kissing you back was actually your souvenir? You had been interrupted before you could discuss anything with him. What if now he had a taste for you he no longer wanted you? Fuck. You were such an idiot.

“Well, slow down, you might hurt yourself.” Toto winked at you and you felt a little flutter of butterflies way deep down in the pit of your stomach. There was no denying your boss was attractive and very, very desirable but you internally reprimanded yourself for your reaction. He was older, married and completely out of your league - but then Lando was also out of your league and you had just fled his drivers room after he stuck his tongue down your throat - and Toto fucking Wolff for crying out loud.

As you began walking (slower, calmer and more composed this time) you looked at the headset and swallowed. What the fuck were you going to do now?!

*little kitty

[fluff-n-cookies]

Dabi made a deal with himself the second time he held you in his arms.

-----

Pt2 to this post.

Warnings: angst to comfort, Dabi yells at his daughter, apologizes soon after, Canon typical violence and crime, spoilers, Dabi is a warning of his own. foul language, please inform me if you find more

reader has blue eyes like Dabi's (she's a toddler, 3-4 years old)

Dabi calls reader bunny, Dabi is addressed as "Daddy"

Note: part 3 some time near the end of this month (hopefully)

taglist: @blurryperrtymoonlight @harkenizalone @lostiolite @rllytriedrn @mellyxqz @cupkiki @xxnessinessiellexx @dehlieee

-----

He made a point to remember it as best he could, to practically live by it in that exact moment.

it was midnight when he made such an oath, it was under the careful eye of the bustling city lights that peeked from a window that he promised himself, with you in his arms for the second time, ever.

well, not exactly the second time, he had been carrying you around town all day, either that or having you sit nearby as he ran to steal diapers and formula and what not. He knew he probably shouldn't be leaving a newborn child alone for too long, especially in an abandoned building such as the one he was stationed in right now. but taking you with him was arguably more dangerous, hence why he would consistently bolt to the nearest store and return, out of breath and sweaty. but it's what one has to do.

so after a long, long, long day of running around with a hangover and a crying baby. it was here as he was leaning against a wall, one with cracks in its paint. that he held you. truly held you. tracing burnt fingers along fragile soft skin and occasionally heating the swaddle up with his fire to keep you warm.

he even lit a tiny, tiny little flame, one as small as you, in the palm of his hand to get a good look at you. it being the only thing illuminating the darkness of the room.

"god, you are ugly."

was his first thought, but he seemed quite fond of you nonetheless. but minds like Touya's tend to wander.

you squirmed a little in his grip, occasionally babbling in his lap. that didn't matter much though as Dabi stared into the darkness of night. little thoughts bounced around in his skull.

you'll be a terrible father

they got louder

just like endeavor

even louder

this place is horrible for a child, she probably'll die from infection

please shut up.

you're failing already

thoughts now buzzed in his mind like wasps, stuffy and pounding, mangled and messy. so many thoughts, yet so little time.

you should leave her with an orphanage. at least someone will care for her there.

she has dad's eyes.

she'll end up hating you.

maybe Natsu or Fuyumi will take her-

NO.

his hands shook as he traced his finger over your cheek and fiddled around with the tiny wisps of your hair.

NO ONE'S GOING TO TAKE HER.

his breath picked up, once okay-ish breaths became jagged. no steady inhale or exhale, only sharp puffs in and out. IN OUT IN OUT IN OUT IN OUT IN OUT IN OUT IN OUT IN OUT IN--

I'll take care of her.

I'll be better than dad.

his breathing slowed. and you woke up. grumpy and sleepy. he smiled, he rocked you to sleep that night.

at least, that's the story of how his fate was sealed to be a father. a father with no money, no job, no house, no family. only an extensive criminal record and an infant daughter. and he thought he could make it work.

he ended up staying at a homeless shelter for a few days, living off on that, until he managed to steal make enough money until he was able to afford a motel were he stayed like that for a good year or so. moving from motel to motel until he made himself a reputation in the area. he learned how to be a father like that, taking care of you with only the help of mommy blogs and YouTube videos and all those nights where he'd start off by searching how to make baby formula better, but then 4 hours later he'd catch himself watching videos on how to help your child through their first period and crying about how his baby's going to grow up so soon. he ended up getting a condo not long after, only so you could finally have more stability in your life.

and he thought he could make it work.

he could not.

which is also how he came to regret this awful, awful, day. this horrendous, day. this day. this wretched day.

this day when he broke his promise

he wanted nothing more in that moment than to squeeze you tight to his chest and kiss your little face until you felt all better and forget this ever happened. to say sorry a million times over and dry your tears and hear your sweet laughter as he tells you crappy dad jokes just to see you smile. to forgive him, to know that he didn't mean to hurt you, it was an accident, it was just an accident, and he's sorry.

please. please just open the door. please. let him in.

open that goddamn door that he helped you paint a few months after you two moved in. that door that he painted white and let you finger paint all you wanted, you painted little flowers and bees and simply just smeared all the color you could find on it. it's your hand prints, side by side with some of his, it's that colorful mess that reminds him of you.

he grips the little plate of fruit in his hands harder. the slices of oranges and bananas formed into a smiley face quake in his hold. his breath, shaky as he hears the soft sound of your cries through the door, most certainly stuffing your face into your pillows to bawl your eyes out.

oh how did this happen? how did it come to this point? yes it was a hard week. a very hard week. having been scouted to join the league only recently and already preparing for their first attack on UA. he'd been at meetings all day to discuss their strategy and game plan, it seemed to carry on for years if not decades, yet, it had only been an hour. Shigaraki was just so annoying, yapping on about his hatred for heroes. please sir, shut the fuck up, no body cares, continue with your Canva slide show now how we are going to kidnap that one student from the sports festival.

that little brat Toga wasn't much better, creepy at that. Twice was just as annoying, constantly switching. spinner was bearable. but in no way is that what stain would have wanted to represent him. no. this is not right.

it didn't help much either that his skin was so fucking sensitive, having been brunt over and over again from quirk over usage, the burns growing darker and larger with every time he used his quirk. even his own clothes hurt him at that point, the horribly made jacket that he found in a dumpster worked away at his skin, tearing off each cell with it's thread. not to mention. Endeavor was climbing high, so high, he recently broke his own record of the number of civilians saved in a week and the public was going wild for it. practically every other news channel was covering it.

he clenched his jaw, bright turquoise eyes stared into the screen that flashed with endeavors flames, the bright orange being the only thing to illuminate the barren living room. one leg shook uncontrollably.

and you. you just wanted to help your dear old dad with dinner.

you didn't mean to drop that plate! it's true! all you wanted was to help your dad load up the dishwasher. after all, he's been complaining all day about how awful work has been, and when he wasn't complaining, he was silently grumbling at the news channels on the TV! he didn't even want to play Dolls with you today or ask you if you need help with your homework! it was weird, dad was never like this, no he was silly and sometimes rude, but he talked to you. why?

but with the loud crash of the plate and sound of a million little shards of glass scattering across the room came the yelling.

why was dad yelling at you? dad didn't yell.

he just keep shouting and yelling, calling you names. all his words were now jumbled, and loud, so loud, like those songs he listens to on the radio. the ones with the loud drums and music and words that you can understand. he called it "metal" music. what happened to your dad?! why was he being so mean? he called you a brat, he called you useless, he called you worthless. words that you didn't even understand but understood that he didn't say them with any love at all.

why, why why why why why why why why why why why why why----

everything was too much, you couldn't even focus on what he was saying. he was flailing his arms around making gestures and what not. little blue flames crawled from his hands and onto his shoulders. he- he was angry. very angry.

but wasn't the angry that he'd be when you get lost at the park only to show up 5 minutes later, not the angry when he'd find you accidentally spilled all the glitter into the carpet, it surely wasn't the angry he'd be when you accidentally hurt yourself while trying to do something stupid that he told you a million times over not to.

no! no! no! this was the angry that he'd be when that man would come on screen in the middle of a show.

you've broken plates before, plates, bowls, glasses, windows, beds, his ear drums, all at least once. and every time, he didn't get that angry. he'd just sigh like he was disappointed, before checking you for injuries and patching you up with eh unicorn stickers you picked out. he never yelled, only lectured. why as he yelling now!

nothing made sense anymore, the thoughts in your head jumbled and messy and blurry and weird and murky and sad and mean and everything thoughts should not be. why was he angry at you?

everything was suddenly so blurry as the tears welled up in your eyes, one single droplet made it's way down your cheek and crashed into the ground along with the shattered glass of the plate. it stung, the saltiness of those tears stung, everything hurt, please just. make it stop. make it stop.

I suppose it was the tears that finally brought Dabi out of that haze of anger.

this face dropped. what had he done? to his daughter. he swore he'd never...

everything was quiet all of a sudden, apart from the soft sniffles and the creaking of floor tiles as Dabi tried to move closer to you. an expressionless look on his face and eyes that held all the sorrow in the world as he silently watched you cry. Dabi, no, Touya, had yelled at his daughter, and then mad her cry.

why? why is it that of a sudden, everything was normal again, it was quiet like it was normal, and he was acting like everything was normal? it was normal, and it wasn't okay. oh wow can anything be okay after that t he was so mean it's not okay it will never be okay he isn't sorry he's mean. he's a bully! he hates you and he's mean and and and and and and and and... Dad said he loved you. did he lie?

it's getting hard to think, it's hard to speak now for no reason. what is happening! you should run, you should run and scream and cry and I don't know anymore!

so... so you ran, to your room, and you're there. little tiny cuts littered the soles of your feet, from the glass of the plate.

and he's out here. on the other side of your room. holding that damn plate of fruit, the ceramic heating up in his fiery hold.

this was so stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid. he was just tired, but rather than being... y'know... a good father. he could hear Endeavor's voice in his own. he could feel the sting of blood seeping from the brunt flap of his tear ducts.

he brought up this hand, practically quivering, the staples practically coming undone from how hard he gripped his arms after you left. the dead cells flaking off beneath his finger nails.

knock knock

please open the door before he kills himself.

a tiny fragile little voice erupts

"no! go away! i- hic don't wanna talk to you..."

oh God it's over, it's over he can't. he really can't. he said he'd protect you, bunny, please just... he wanted to be a good dad.

"I... (Y/n). I'm so s-sorry."

why is it that the sniffles and soft whimpers stop now.

"baby, please, I'm sorry, daddy's sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you. can- can we talk?"

silence, then the soft sound of pitter patter on the floorboards make their way closer, and closer. the little jingle of the door handle as you pull at it to get it open.

he's the one that's meant to be helping you open that damn door, you're too short to do it on your own! you, you need him, you need him to help you an you save you and you...

more importantly I guess...

the door creaks open, just a little, he's able to catch a glimpse of your locks of hair, messy, unlike this morning when he did it before you went off to school. have you been pulling at your own hair?

he makes his way through, he tiptoes between the trenches that is your bedroom. pinkish in all the most annoying ways. but, you are seemingly the most annoying of all! a brat, but you're his brat. and you're crying. right there. under your extra fluffy blankets.

the bed creaks softly as he sits down. he doesn't dare look you in the eyes. the plate of fruit securely in his hold.

"(Y/n)."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled,

I was angry, not at you, never you,

but you were there.

and I'm sorry."

silence.

"I cleaned up the plate, are you hurt?

well, there's bandages, if you do I'll get some disinfectant."

silence

"um, I cut you up some fruits too,

I know how much you like watermelon."

silence

"I'll leave you alone now."

a peep.

"dad?" the blankets shuffle.

"y-yeah, bunny?"

"sorry for dropping the plate. and breaking it." he can see your face now, reddish and teary, your eyes look bloodshot! Jesus, how hard where you crying-

"Oh, it's okay, it's only a plate..."

"do you..."

"do I what, bun?"

"do you not love me anymore?"

he will always love you, more than the moon and the sun and the stars and the sea and green grass of spring and the warmth of summer nights and the sting of alcohol down your throat more than the righteous angels love themselves.

"oh, oh bunny,

I will always, always, love you."

he leaned over scooping you up into his arms, placing your tiny little toddler body into his lap.

"don't forget that, don't you ever forget that, daddy loves you, I will always love you no matter what."

his thumb brushed away all those pesky wisps of hair that float in front of your face, sticking to wet cheeks.

and he smiled, a crooked, but loving smile, a smile.

and you smiled back. even through your pain you smiled. oh. oh Thank God! you forgave him. he'd probably carve out his heart in a fit of insanity if you didn't.

"I love you too, daddy."

-----

I lost my mind halfway through this fic. god it sounds so cringe ugghghghfdhgdgdkjgdjhg[ihga[ieshgtpwiuefhwugot4bvaw6eygsdddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddjfsfhsfshjsj oh well, block me if you don't like it I guess

my stuff is right here: Bnha master list, rules for requesting, ask box

send me an ask, I fucking love hearing from you guys.

[sweetheartbitesb4ck]

part one || part two || part three || this is part four || part five

The weeks following your first 'date' with Simon were full of going on little walks together, but most of all? The pings, to say the least. He would text you so often it came as a shock to you he even had a job. You found it amusing, sure, maybe even annoying, but you hadn't anticipated the sheer silence when he was 'away with work', as he put it.

You had guessed that meant deployed or something of the sorts... and it worried you, yeah, but your feelings for him were still new and you didn't want to get hurt if anything was to happen.

You'd been excited when he'd promised to write to you a few days before he left, but as the days flew by with nothing more than some bills, bank statements and late birthday cards dropping through the letter box it occurred to you that Simon Riley had been too blown away when he first saw you in your house to remember the road name, and far to drunk when he first spoke to you to remember the number on your front door.

So Simon sat there when he wasn't fighting or in briefings and had downtime (which was rare) writing letters he knew he couldn't send away, partly because it was a risk to send stuff away and partly because he would just blank on your god damn address every single time.

He didn't even have his phone because of something to do with trackers and intel and it was all a bit of a fuzz of unconfirmed information that Simon had explained to on a walk a few days before his departure.

This is what worried you. You obviously knew the dangers, and you two weren't even 'official' yet, but you would have liked to be updated. You couldn't help but feel a bit sick when your mind travelled to the horrors his job could boast.

Prior to his deployment, you and Simon had got to know each other a little better, which only made your nerves worse now you had more of a bond, plus you had gotten to see the less flustered version of him. You'd mostly talked over the phone but had also gone on a few walks together. It felt weird; missing someone you'd so quickly fallen for. You could only hope as the days blurred into weeks then into months.

Then, two months later, Simon was back. He'd been resting and getting medical support for a day or two before he journeyed home, and his first thought? It was to retrace his steps down that one road to that house with the open window that had changed everything. He could have slept, unpacked, done anything, but all he wanted to do was to see you.

You groan as you hear a knock against the door... you'd just about drifted off after hours and hours of tossing and turning, your head reluctant to rest. Trudging downstairs, you pull on a hoodie over your pyjamas. "Who the fuck..?" You murmur, clicking on the hallway light and unbolting the door, ready to dive back into bed.

"What?" You grumble as you swing the door just a crack open, your eyes widening and breath hitching at seeing that tall frame and skull mask. You slam it shut, fumbling to unlatch the door and burst it open, flying into the bulky man's arms and screaming.

Simon grins under the balaclava, stumbling backwards slightly as you bounce onto him. "You alright?" He asks, his voice so nonchalant even as you wrap your arms around him. Probably still trying to seem cool for you.

You pull back, face still covered in shock. "Fucking alright? That's all you have to say?" You cry, voice a few pitches higher than usual. "Fuck, Simon... you said you would write!" You mumble, leaning back in to hug him. Part of you wanted to say there forever, holding him there and squeezing him as hard as you could, but you knew you should probably invite him in. So that's what you do.

"Well," Ghost replies, shoving his hands into the big pockets of his tactical jacket as he steps inside, shutting the front door behind him and following you to the kitchen "I didn't know your address," He admits, smirking as you raise an eyebrow at him and snicker. "Oh yeah," You chuckle slightly, trying to refrain from smothering the poor bloke as he takes a seat at your table. "Tea?" You tilt your head and glance at the kettle.

"I hate t-" Simon bites the inside of his cheek and curses under his breath. Fuck... He thinks, realising him lying about loving the drink would probably wean him into having it regularly. "Tea's great," He nods, noting how you raise your eyebrows, expression sceptical.

His mind flicks back to Soap's so called relationship advice, the words "honesty is key" in that loud Scottish accent rattling through his mind. "Okay fine," He grunts, avoiding eye contact. "I hate tea. Can't bloody stand the stuff."

You huff with amusement, flicking the kettle off and rifling through your cabinet. "I'm out of coffee,"

You and Simon chatted for hours, sitting at the table. At first, he was jittery, but he soon relaxed, trying to stop staring at you, although this was hard as he finds you so breathtakingly perfect.

A few hours later, you tilt your head and smile at Ghost as he yawns. "You must be tired," You say softly, leaning on the counter.

Simon nods, rubbing his eyes sarcastically. "It's probably too late to walk home, aye," He says, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah," You respond, scratching your neck with a mock confusion. "Lucky I have a double bed, eh?"

"You're sure?" Asks Ghost, his nervous expression from the coffee shop returning to his face. He was still terrified of scaring you away, but wanted nothing more than to collapse onto your bed and just hold you. You nod, smiling gently. "Come on." Taking your hand, Simon follows you upstairs to your cosy room, allowing himself to relax, stop being awkward. The decoration alone made him feel at home, probably because it shone with your personality.

And with that, the two of you curled up on the mattress, Ghost pulling you towards him, arms firm around you as he let the gentle rise and fall of your chest guide him to sleep.

Never in a million years would he have predicted this if he was asked about his future a few months ago, but here you were, two awkward and unsure people falling in love from nowhere.

Love. Simon was sure that's what that feeling was... the one that had seized his whole being since he first set eyes upon you.

thank you sm for reading! I hope you enjoyed part four..! if anyone wants a part five, I'll most likely do it, ( I just need to figure out what I'd write... probably something about the letters) but yea if u want that just let me know.... also, feel free to make any asks for fics u would like to see :)

sorry if my posting is irregular for a while! I'm back at uni and work after the Christmas break so very busy

[easy-there-leftovers]

I See You, Darling

[Astarion x reader] The idea never left my mind, and I so very badly need this right now. Heavily inspired by this cutscene where Tav chooses a dialogue option and Astarion's eyes just deviate-- (gif above, just wait for his eyes to look at you WKDKWKDK) |Word count: 2k.| Based off of this post I made.

Part 2 here!!

Also, this is more heavy on the world building rather than dialogue. If I end up making this a series, I might write with more dialogue in mind but it was just necessary to do this first afhjaqfbnjkafbnebn--

A story in which an overworked art student longs for a fictional character that they've devoted so much of their time to.

Alternatively; Astarion realizes there's someone else watching him. And he can't wait to get acquainted with them.

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

One.

Two.

Three.

It takes you three seconds to comprehend what just happened. Three seconds for you to try and save the progress you’ve already made so far. Three seconds for you to feel the chill of dread run up your spine. 

You’ll admit, perhaps you were simply tired. Attending a prestigious school for the arts doesn’t exactly leave you with much free time to indulge in more calming forms of recreation. Your course requires you to consume a wide array of media to expand your library of creativity, after all. All in the name of generating more interesting media to entrance and enthrall your audience with your original work. 

Maybe all the moving pictures and swimming texts have caused you to greatly misunderstand what you are seeing. Surely, your favorite character isn’t looking directly at you, right?

Right?

But before that, let’s review what might have happened earlier to explain just what exactly in gods name is happening.

Shall we?

——

You purchased the game a few months back. “Baldur’s Gate 3.” A game that took the players and immersed them in the world of Dungeons & Dragons, introducing them to the mechanics of tabletop RPG as they did. It seemed interesting enough. And if the concept of character creation and storytelling didn’t sell you on the idea of it, the pretty faces on the cover certainly did.

So, with the little money you could spare from your part time job at your own institution’s library, and with what little sanity you had left to argue with, you impulsively bought said game. And it was fun. Exhilarating. Electrifying. 

Until you ran into a problem.

Astarion. The rogue, elven vampire that you have chosen to romance after careful deliberation. You scoffed to yourself. He was one of the biggest reasons why you purchased the blasted game at all. You’ve carefully studied the character in all his glory, from his striking carmine eyes and delicate unstained curls, to his aptitude for bloodshed and all manners of gore. He was such an interesting character, giving you more and more reason to pursue him as the story progressed. Yet the same can’t be said about your relationship with him. Or at least your “Tav’s” relationship with him. 

You’ve had some difficulty in deepening your relationship with the ex-magistrate. It seemed as if no matter what options you chose, no matter what manner of advances you made, he’d be quick to dismiss you. Painting you as a desperate little pup as he did. Denying you the opportunity of further knowing him. You’ve created and overwritten more save slots than you'd like to admit, perusing each one to select different lines of dialogue only to be rejected time and time again.

You thought it strange. But perhaps this was simply the way his route was meant to unfold. He was such an incredibly complex character after all. Perhaps this was meant to prove the party’s loyalty. 

But that didn’t stop you from being frustrated with other aspects of the gameplay. You've spent countless nights hunched on your work chair, back curving like a dead bug as you analyzed each and every possible outcome in combat. Eyes, bloodshot from cutting your sleeping hours short, just to endure the story until you were at an appropriate place to log out. And hair, flicking and curling out in different directions due to you weaving your hands through them in exasperation. 

You saw your reflection on your screen as it darkened to load the next scene and you couldn't help but stare at your character in slight envy. You know full well that however you designed them, it wouldn’t affect how the others perceived you, and yet you couldn’t help but pretty them up for your own interest. You designed it with yourself in mind, but making them far more attractive than you would ever be. Effortlessly beautiful as they stirred to wake up in the forest you settled in for camp.

How could Astarion ever turn this beautiful being away? If not for their heroism, then surely their looks would be enough to draw him in, no?

And speak of the devil. Once you could control your character again, you readied them to interact with your sharply dressed companion. Wanting to try your luck once more as the bright sun shone upon your character like a promise of a new day. Unfortunately, you’re greeted with a look of boredom, oh so familiar, that you sigh. “I hope you’re not here to beg—” Mocking him, echoing the words you’ve come to expect with faux mirth in your voice. But you cut yourself short when you realize he has yet to say anything. 

Strange.

 What’s even stranger is that he's just staring at you. Well,--- he’s staring at Tav. Your character.

“What the fuck…?” You move your mouse around, clicking to try and toggle the dialogue options to no avail, screen stuck in a cinematic close up of his face. Much like how the camera always pans when awaiting your response. 

However, unlike the common script of his actions that you’re used to, the one that you’ve memorized like a well practiced dance, his eyes smoothly glide off of your character and onto you. 

You freeze, but your heart doesn’t. The beating of your chest growing stronger the longer he looks at you. Eyes, blood red like rubies, boring into your own. He regards you, blinks, and then smiles that deviously charming smile of his before your screen turns dark. Your computer turns off, and you stare in shock of what just happened.

‘No fucking way, no fucking way, no fucking way—‘ You’re not delusional, right? Sure, you’re tired, but no fucking way did you just imagine one of the hottest characters you’ve seen in a while break the fourth wall just to fuck with you.

You laugh to yourself.

Yes, you’re just tired. Nothing like a good four hours of sleep can’t remedy. Although, as you get up from your chair, foolish as it may seem, you grab a used shirt from your floor, and hang it on your computer in the case that those piercing eyes come to life once again while you sleep.

——

You stir awake after your short slumber. Your body, heavy like lead, though not at all a feeling foreign to you. You think about what happened last night, wondering if it was all a dream. Yet as you get ready for the day, you notice your dirtied clothing still on your computer. Covering it as if it were a petrifying doll from a horror movie. You feel childish for doing so, reasoning that you were simply stressed from the events that taken place prior and removed the cloth.

As you did, your screen was brought back to life. Showing you the next night as if your little "tryst" with Astarion never happened. An entire thirty minutes or so of progress seemingly gone. Thankfully, you saved just before your game went haywire and you attempted to load up your last slot. 

Zzzt Zzzzt!

Alas, your game was not cooperating once again. You tried the save just before that and the same error screen presented itself to you. ‘Maybe this is a sign that I should just fucking work instead.’ Irritated at the thought, you moved to log out of the game but a familiar voice convinces you otherwise as the screen returns to normal. 

“Why, hello pup. How was your awfully short slumber?” 

‘Is this— a romance scene?!’ Astarion had never initiated an interaction before! Perhaps the game gods were granting you mercy. Or maybe, something you did last night might have given way for this line of dialogue to open up. Regardless, you happily took the opportunity and began reading your choices.

“Why, hello pup. How was your awfully short slumber?” ━─━────༺༻────━─━

Well. Thank you.

It’s none of your concern, fangs.

Better now that you’re here.

What happened last night?

━─━────༺༻────━─━

What…did happen last night? You don’t recall anything past the blackening of your screen, but it looks like you did something after that which caused this dialogue.

You don’t want to squander this opportunity, who knows when this will happen again, but your curiosity gets the best of you. So you save, and choose option 4. 

“Oh, you poor thing. Spooked you, did I?” He laughs, seemingly taking in the look of confusion that graces both yours and Tav’s face.

“What do you think happened last night?”

“My fucking game crashed.” You answer automatically.

Tav moves to open their mouth but is silenced with a tut. “Not you, spawn.” His eyes crinkle at the corners in amusement, but the way his mouth is pulled in a tightly-lipped smile offers you further insight otherwise. 

“I need your answer.” His eyes are on you yet again, and you feel the world begin to spin.

——

You stir awake after your short slumber. Your body, heavy like lead, though not at all a feeling foreign to you. You think about what happened last night, wondering if it was all a dream. Yet as you plan to get ready for the day, you notice you’re not exactly in a state to do so. You expected to wake at dawn, the dark and cool air to greet you as it fills your room and envelops your walls. Instead, you wake to see an endless amount of evergreen and the smell of the dark and damp grass beneath you filling your senses.

And if spending hours, weeks, months, of playing this damned game has taught you anything, you know that you now reside in the heart of the forest that you usually set up camp in. But this time, you're far from your bedroll and the fire that your party created.

One.

Two.

Three.

It takes you three seconds to comprehend what just happened. Three seconds for you to try and save the progress you’ve already made so far to no avail. Three seconds for you to feel the chill of dread run up your spine. 

And this chill so does love playing games.

You clamber away on your knees when you hear that deep chuckle of his emanate from right beside your ear. Creating as much distance to inspect this figure you’ve yet to face.

You see Astarion in all his vampiric glory. ‘Well, for a vampire spawn, I guess.’ You comment to yourself. Crimson eyes, darker than you imagined, with full, dark lashes contrasting his pallid skin and pure hair that glow under the moonlight. An unsettling, and cursedly attractive, smirk curls onto his lips. His ivory fangs on full display as he does.

“It seems as if those useless artifacts were worth something.” He marvels at his handiwork, his prize, and approaches it with confidence. 

“Well, your character certainly is more ‘prettied up.’” He circles you, carefully appraising his newest asset, and grins. “But you are far more intriguing.”

A simple, “What the fuck?” is all you can muster.

“Although, you are very cute. Cheeky little pup, aren’t you?” He jests.

A simple, “What the fuck?” is all you can muster which earns you a click of his tongue in response.

“You’re not broken, are you? Or am I to anticipate your little ‘what the fuck?’s as your only contribution?” Long, and incredibly masculine, fingers crawl and curl to grasp your chin like a spider. 

“I’ve waited months to have you. And now here you are, finally within my grasp.” The statement causes something to stir within you.

“What do you mean, ‘months?” 

He narrows his eyes, possibly trying to comprehend your stupidity.

“I’ve been watching you. Waiting, for the right moment. Interacting with this– caricature of yourself until you could deny yourself of me no more.” Blood rushes to your head. Your cheeks burning in embarrassment for seeming overly eager. And in panic as his intentions have yet to be cleared.

“And now that I’m here? Do you want to kill me?” You feel your heartbeat in your ears, awaiting his response. Your eyes wide in fear, yet trying to fake heroic bravado in the attempts to gain the upperhand.

And in this moment, he thinks you absolutely invigorating.

“Oh no, sweet pet. I’ve waited far too long for that. I’m going to make you mine.”

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

Should I make this into a series? "The adventures of a misplaced artist in Baldur's Gate!!" Or something like that. Let me know, lol

[brenwritesss]

I LOVE UR WORKKKK 💕💕 would u be down to write angst for emily or kate? im a suckerrrr for angsty fics 🙏🙏 tysm!

Vegas Baby

Kate Martin x reader

Summary: Kate gets drafted to the Aces, making you determine if moving to Las Vegas or staying in Iowa is the right decision.

a/n: not edited

“With the 18th pick in the 2024 WNBA draft, the Las Vegas Aces select Kate Martin, University of Iowa.” 

Your eyes widened at the screen before you as your girlfriend stood up from her seat in the crowd. Your sister latched a hand onto your shoulder while her jaw dropped at those simple yet groundbreaking words. You didn’t have time to react, slapping your own hand over your mouth as you watched Kate walk up to the stage to accept her jersey. “Holy shit.” 

Tears formed along your waterline and you broke out into a smile that was almost bigger than Kate’s. Your sister started shaking your shoulder. “Your girlfriend’s going to fucking Vegas!”

You remember moments before she got drafted; nonstop texts in your phone while you both supported Caitlin as she got drafted #1 overall. Kate was nervous to say the least, telling you how all she wanted was an opportunity. The chance to get her name called and to walk across that stage. It was all she had been talking about for months. There had always been a part of you that knew she was going to get drafted. You had spent the last three years at Iowa watching her, supporting her, cheering her on and all you wanted was for her to get that opportunity that she had been wishing for all season.

My love 💗

Babe, they asked me to switch seats

I’m closer to the aisle now

Idk what this means but I’m nervous

What should I do?

As a joke, you had replied “baby, you’re about to get drafted.” Then she did actually get drafted. Maybe you had a way of telling the future? Is this the universe’s way of telling you that you should ditch getting your major in business and start a career in fortune telling instead? 

You continued watching the rest of the WNBA draft with your hands shaking in your lap. After your initial freak out over Kate getting drafted had occurred, you didn’t waste any time in texting in texting your girlfriend to congratulate her.

“Congratulations baby I’m so so so proud of you.”

Kate didn’t respond instantly as you had expected, but a couple of hours later, you received a phone call from her. “Oh my God, babe.”

You immediately laughed into the phone, “how is my new Ace doing?”

“I don’t even know. There’s so many thoughts going through my head right now. Did you see me?”

You could practically feel her nerves through the phone. “Of course I did. I saw every second. I’m so proud of you, Kate, this is amazing.”

“Thank you,” she said, taking a pause. “I feel really good about this, you know? Everything is falling into place and working out. Knowing that I have your support, babe, it means everything to me.”

“You know I’ll always support you no matter what. You’re going to be doing great things in Vegas, I just know it.” You couldn’t help but tear up again, forcing the tears not to fall so that Kate wouldn’t hear it.

“It’s going to be hard leaving Iowa but this is an incredible opportunity. I’ll be playing with the fucking Aces. Are you joking? The fucking Las Vegas Aces.”

“They’re getting a good one,” you smiled. “When are you coming back from New York?”

There was a few moments of silence coming from her end. Silence that stirred the smallest bit of anxiety within you. Silence that made you feel the smallest bit of uncertainty. “Within the next couple of days for sure. I have to pack up my place and get everything back home in order before I go to Vegas.”

“Right, yeah,” you agreed. There was a part of you that felt almost hurt that she didn’t mention seeing you or coming back to you. Was it stupid to feel that way?

“Hey, I gotta go,” she spoke softly into the phone. “But I’ll call you later if you’re awake. I’ll see you soon, baby. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Seconds after, Kate hung up the phone, leaving you sitting in your shared apartment that she would soon leave behind. You just hope you wouldn’t be part of that. She couldn’t leave you behind right?

Kate was back in Iowa, curled up with you on the couch two days after the draft. When you had picked her up from the airport, you had barely left her side. Not because of your previous fears from draft night, but because even though she was only gone for a few days, you missed her terribly. You lifted your head up from her chest, looking up at her. “When do you leave for Vegas?” you ask her.

Kate looks down at you, softly kissing your temple. “In a couple weeks for training camp. Why?”

You shrug your shoulders. “Just wondering.” You debated on continuing the conversation, having so many questions in your head about the future of your relationship. Deciding against keeping quiet, you continue, “we should talk about some stuff, Kate.”

Kate shifted from beneath you and leaned up more against the couch. Her eyebrows furrowed as she looked at you, not pulling her hand away from your waist. “What’s wrong?”

“We should talk about you moving to Vegas.” You take in her expression, watching as her eyes darted from your eyes to around your face. Before the draft, you and Kate had always speculated what your lives together would look like after college. You both had discussed that if she chose to continue her basketball career professionally, you would find a way to go with her, leaving your life behind in Iowa. The more you thought about it, the harder it would be to leave your friends, family, and your school.

Kate nodded, “yeah, we should probably talk about where we’re staying. I mean, we’re going to have to pack and everything but it shouldn’t be too hard.”

That’s when it hit you. Kate was planning on you moving to Las Vegas with her. And in a way, it felt like you were stuck, torn between wanting to be with Kate but not wanting to leave your life and everything you had worked for, behind. 

“Kate, baby there’s a lot more that goes into this than just me and you moving across the country. I just started a new job and all of my friends and family are here.”

“Are you saying you don’t want to come with me?” Kate asked you, looking almost insulted at the idea.

You shook your head. “No, no that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that we need to talk more about it and figure it out from there. I can’t just tell you I’m moving with you when there’s so many things that tie me down here.”

Kate’s grip on your waist loosened slightly. Slightly enough to have you notice it. “It’s either you want to move or you don’t. It shouldn’t be this difficult.”

You were taken back by her response, acknowledging the tension in her words. “Having to reroute my entire life in a matter of a couple weeks would never be fucking easy.”

“What about all the times we would be in my bed and we would talk about being together?” Kate finally let her hands fall from your waist. “You said you’d follow me wherever if I got drafted.”

“Kate, that was us dreaming. In a perfect world, yes, I would follow you wherever you wanted to go even if it were the pits of hell. But this is not a perfect world, and we have to look at the reality of this situation.”

“So then why say all of that shit?” Kate’s voice raised slightly which caused you to move back on the couch, putting space between you two. “So all of that shit is meaningless then?”

You widen your eyes. “No of course not because I meant it when I said that I wanted to be with you for the rest of my life. You’re not listening to me.”

Kate rolled her eyes, standing up from the couch for the first time since the conversation started. “You always fucking do this, Y/n.”

“Do what?”

“Say that I’m not listening to you when it’s the only thing I’m doing. Do you think that this whole situation isn’t hard on me too? Two weeks ago, I thought my basketball career was over and now I have the chance to play in a league with some of the most talented athletes in the world. Do you not see how big of a deal this is and how I want your support in this?” Kate was walking back in forth in front of you, her tone of voice catching you off guard.

You stood up, trying to get her to look at you. “That’s fucking ridiculous that you would even suggest that I don’t support you, Kate. I have been your biggest fan since I met you and you want to tell me that I’m not supporting you? Why should I have to prove my support by moving across the country and beginning a life that I am not familiar with. You’re making me sound selfish.”

“It wouldn’t be unfamiliar because you’ll have me.”

“And what would happen when I don’t have you anymore?”

Kate froze in her spot, turning to face you. “What?”

“What would happen when you decide that I’m tying you down or becoming too much. Leaving my whole life here, it’s just not worth the risk.”

“That’s fucking bullshit and you know it,” Kate yelled, looking down at you. “Do you think that if I was going to break up with you, I’d want you to move to Vegas with me? And do you really think I could be capable of doing something like that when you’re the only person I can see going through this next chapter with?”

You throw your hands up in the air, trying desperately to reason with her. “Do you care at all what happens to me? Do you care that I’m giving up so much for you?”

Kate was practically pulling at her hair at this point. She rolled up the sleeves of her hoodie before she brushed her hands over her face. “You’re acting like I’m making you move to a different country. Obviously, you have the fucking choice to stay here if you want. I’m not going to force to move to Vegas with me,” she paused. “I assumed you were going to, considering that’s what you have been telling me for months. If you knew you were going to stay here, why would you give me that false hope?”

“Because I thought that up until now, I wouldn’t question leaving with you. But now that it’s actually happening, I have to think about the reality and it scares me.”

Kate tightens her mouth into a small line, making you know that what you just said went straight to her heart. “So it’s not enough knowing that I would take care of you? I wouldn’t just drop you off in Vegas and leave you there you know. I don’t see a future where I’m not taking care of you and putting you first.”

You cross your arms. Everything in you wanted to believe Kate, but you’ve heard the horror stories of what would happen to girls who dated professional athletes. Maybe you shouldn’t have let this go on for this long. Maybe you should have listened to your head instead of your heart. “Do you really believe that?”

“Believe what?”

“That you’d put me first?”

Kate’s jaw almost dropped at your question and in that moment, you wanted to take it back. “This is bullshit.”

Without saying anything else, she slips on her shoes, grabbing her keys, and heads for the door.

You wanted to reach out to her. To tell her to stay and talk it out, but deep down you knew that there was only a matter of time before the magnetic pull between you two came crashing down.

[fillinforlater]

On her back

Male Reader x Bae Joohyun

Length: 2958 words

Tags: Daddy kink, Master kink, breeding kink, literal breeding, like impregnation, rough sex, mating press (for literal, REAL mating), from loving to degradation, emotional manipulation, teasing, overstimulation, multiple creampies, spitting, toxic relationships

TW: rough impregnation, emotional manipulation, the usual "On her" stuff

Inspiration/Credit: not possible without @sooyadelicacies, my great co-writer and inspirator

(A/N: Reminder that OC is an asshole and that this is fiction. Anyways, rough daddy kink breeding sex, yay. Enjoy a subby!Irene lol. Btw, it's been more than a year since Part 1 came out!)

“I’m here if you need a break from all these youngsters xoxo”

You are alone in the backseat of a Mercedes-Benz, quietly sipping on a cool, refreshing beverage with your airpods in. You need to destress and know just the person to see. You put your drink down and begin to close your eyes, settling in for a quick nap before you arrive at your destination. 

Maybe it was only a few minutes, maybe it was much longer than that, but you feel the car stop and you begin to wake. 

"We have arrived, sir."

Looking out, you find a beautiful secluded home surrounded by lush greenery. One of your many getaways. 

"Thank you, as always," you say politely as the door opens up for you and you're handed your luggage. You stroll up to the door and put in the passcode as well as the biometric scan of your fingerprint. But before you turn the knob, the door already opens and you are greeted by a stunning beauty. 

"Irene," you say simply. 

"Hello, my love."

"It's been a while," you add, a sigh on your lips, but you keep it down.

"It really has," the small woman responds, hands fidgeting on her sides as she just stands there, her boundless beauty that will persist for decades to come filling the air like the strong, vibrant smell of ripe fruits.

"God, you're so fucking pretty." 

This time, the sigh is at least palpable in the aftermath of your words when your arms reach out to her. Joohyun tenses up for a seconds before your embrace reaches her, caresses her back and finds rest on her butt. With ease, you pick the petite idol up and Joohyun's legs instinctively wrap around you.

You kiss her gently, lovingly. "Still tensing up? I thought I trained it out of you?" you tease. 

She blushes. "It's been a long time, Ma—" 

"Shh, not yet. There will be time for that. I need my lover right now, not my toy."

A soft smile on her face. One in a million, quite literally: days and weeks and months go by where she can never feel like this around someone else. They all make her put on the cold, reserved, distant smile, but with you finally by her side, she melts.

At least the temperature of her palms cupping your face is able to melt ice in seconds. Joohyun leans close to you and presses her lips on yours, her passion coming over you in a quiet explosion. A tad bit quicker, a little more tongue when she parts your lips, now you pull her in closer.

"God, I've missed this," she coos and you brush away her astray hair. 

"I have been busy... the young ones are quite—"

"Difficult? Always have been. Think of me back then."

You can't help but smile at the memories, though they also make your cock twitch against its cotton prison. Joohyun giggles. She must feel it poking her exposed midriff. 

"Those were fun times, but you know I'm still as tight as ever, only with more experience now. I promise I'll take away all of your stress today." 

"I know you will. That's why you know of this place. It's a short list, Irene." 

She smiles happily and melts her lips into yours once more.

With her secured around you, you wander off, straight to the bedroom, careful not to bump into anything on your way. There are easily a hundred idols you'd just violently throw onto a bed like this and then destroy their tight pussies, but with Joohyun you remain careful for now. Lay her down on it, never disconnecting your lips.

Joohyun starts to undress immediately and instead of following suit, you decide to watch her. Many months ago was the last time you've seen her bare body—at least in real life, up close. There are dozens of videos you've filmed with her and she even sent nudes last month, a rarity for the outwardly timid idol.

"You're skin," you groan and reach for her bare tummy, then breasts. "Still porcelain, still smooth and perfect."

"Th-thank you. I made sure it's perfect, just for you."

"Not for the fans, not for the members? Not for your own self-gratification?"

"Only for you, my Master."

There she goes. 

"Music to my ears. Hearing such obedience. It's rare to find that nowadays, I wonder if my methods are getting stale?" 

You muse, but she knew it was your way of asking for her opinion, her advice. Bae Joohyun was an intelligent woman and admirable leader after all, and she knew all the tricks in the outside idol world and in your bedroom.

"Are you concerned about the outcome, even with all your leverage? Or is it getting too boring for you?" Before Joohyun can continue, you rub in between her legs, over her modest panties to find a little bit of wetness there. Joohyun opens her mouth; no moan, no breath, she just sinks into the sheets. "I-I just don't see the problem."

"They are just so damn cocky and continue to be. Disobedience, arrogance, self-centeredness, it's all running rampant nowadays."

"We weren't any better back then."

Press a finger onto her pussy lips, the fabric disappearing a bit into the increasingly aroused hole.

"Oh, you think so?"

"Ye-yes, Master. Suzy, IU, Jennie, even I—we were all a lot of trouble for you. I remember the reeducation training with Jessica and Nana. Maybe some things never change—ah, fuck."

Joohyun moans when your tongue trails along the side of her body, up to her collarbone where you place kisses. She is now trapped underneath you and with all your experience and ease, you join her in her (almost) nude state. 

Instead of your finger you place a knee on Joohyun's covered heat and she instinctively grinds on it and loses herself in needy, desperate, good girl whines. She starts to pout and you rake your fingers through her hair like—

"Like in good old times." Your deep groan fills Joohyun with love.

"Yes, Master."

"You know how to grind on this knee. You know how to make yourself look submissive. You know how to combust into nothing but bliss when I just command you too.

"Don't you, Irene?"

"Y-yes, Master! You're so good to me."

Joohyun hesitates and whimpers for a moment, looking at you. 

"Master… call me Joohyun please. Irene is for everybody else, but I am Joohyun and I am yours, my Master. Your whore, your slave." 

The shortlist came with perks. She could make such requests of you. 

"Jennie was one of the worst, but she is one of my biggest sluts, so I guess it only makes sense." You think out loud. 

"Joohyun, is it true Red Velvet will have their last comeback soon?" 

She can only nod and hum. 

"I'll have to fuck you after then too… to breed you." 

Her eyes widen and you feel a great dampness in her folds. 

"Master, it will finally be my turn?" 

"We've discussed this before." 

"I-I know… but I said you could breed me before then. You know I would give up my career for you, Master. I only wish to be your cumdump."

There she goes, melting into a shape you have foreseen years ago. Of course she has been ready for it, but the time is right right now.

"Good girl."

You pull aside her panties and give her pussy lips tiny smacks. Joohyun starts to mewl and whimper in this perfect pitch, the pitch only your hand can make her reach.

"M-Master, hng!"

"This hole is ready to be bred." Indeed, you find it to be exceptional compared to even to your best youngsters, perfect, especially the wetness is extraordinary. "Now spread your legs and tell me how much you need it."

"Master, I've needed it since I underwent your training. I didn't allow any man to touch me but you, Master. I am pure. I-I stopped any form of contraceptive. I've been waiting. I'm ready to walk away from being an idol because all I want is you, Master. I see comments online, I know people call me Mommy because of my age and looks, but the only Mommy I want to be is for your child, Master. Breed me please. I am your good girl. I always have been. This whore, this slut, needs her Master to complete my training, to make me your breeding bitch."

You deem these words to be enough, excessive even. There was no need for all of them to be said out loud, you could clearly see it in her eyes, the wanton desire for your cock creaming inside her.  Some people might call it cruel to her, but the last person to call it cruel is Joohyun herself.

You penetrate her gracefully, something she has not experienced ever. There was always a need to destroy her pussy; after all, Joohyun was once a defiant bitch. Nothing of this is left as she ecstatically welcomes you inside, dopamine flushing her brain, passion in the way she moans, laughs when you bottom out.

"Daddy!"

"Squeeze tight, Joohyun. I need you to make me cum as often as you can and keep it all down, so you better be the tightest girl ever tonight."

"I'm Daddy's tight girl, just breed me and I'll not lose any of your seed."

"Stick your tongue out."

Joohyun does as told and you let some of your saliva spill out onto your tongue before it oozes down to her. You always found her cock drunk expression thrilling, this one probably being its greatest form when you start to thrust into her as she still tries to catch your gift.

She pouts, as your saliva misses her just a bit and drips on her body. 

"If they saw you now—Irene, everyone's ice queen—reduced to nothing but my personal whore, a Daddy and Master kink too? Some people think you're a bitch in how you behave and treat others. They are right in a way, aren't they darling? 

“You are my bitch.”

"Ma-Master, you are right," Joohyun moans, her response interrupted by ragged breaths. "I-I'm your bitch, a bitch in heat. Do-do you like the hot pussy of this ice slave?"

Has she always been this humorous? A circle around her clit, just a rub, and her eyes are wide open. Joohyun looks so different in bed, a different kind of gorgeous from her stage presence during songs with the velvet-concept. You appreciate both, but this is clearly your favorite.

"Good that it's still tight," you groan and pound her harder. "I bottomed out a thousand times and still your grip is... fuck."

"Yes, Master, please praise my pussy more!"

"Isn't this enough praise, bitch?" you say in rhythm to slower but significantly harder thrust, the type to make inexperienced girls limp and screaming. Not Joohyun, she takes it well, though her voice still breaks at the rough pleasure forced upon her needy sex.

Joohyun stretches her arms out, holds onto the frame of the bed while you force her feet further apart and higher in the air. She looks stupid, an embarrassing position for an idol of her class to be in. 

"Yes, Master!" she suddenly howls when your finger presses into the flesh of her thighs. "I don't want to dance anymore, make me unable to dance!"

"When I'm fucking done with you, don't even think about getting out of bed." You lean down to her sweaty, burning face and nibble at her jaw. "Don't move on your own before I've filled your entire womb!"

"Yes, Master.” Joohyun struggles to catch her breath, her words somewhere up in the air along with your face deliberately drooling down on her. “It's time isn't it? Please make me pregnant. I've been waiting for so long, Master, I've been patient and good—" 

"In due time, Joohyun, but you will take it all the way in your womb until you're dripping and spilling seed everywhere. One day.” Your promise is sincere, partially because Joohyun’s rippling pussy has your voice a bit strained. Rejecting her would be pointless, really, her pussy could just will you in and if she’s really not taking contraceptives— 

“I've heard your contracts are up in the air. Are you really going to throw it all away for your Master?"

Joohyun puckers her lips for you to kiss, barely able to squeeze out words through them and her forced out moans.

"Yes, M-Master! I don't care about the contracts, I only want your child."

"Then show me that cute little face," you say, teasingly leaning down to her lips searching for yours but not getting them. "The one you make when you cum on my cock like the good slut I trained you to be."

Joohyun is almost at that point of peak devotion, where she can almost will herself to an orgasm just from your command, but it's still too many almosts. You still have to lay a hand on her clit, the other on her waist and move both your hips and hands in quick, stimulating fashion until Joohyun squeaks like it's her first time in your bedroom. 

The night you tamed her, many, many moons ago, was a great achievement, because you know she would still be drop dead gorgeous when you decide to do this to her. Without giving Joohyun any signs of your imminent orgasm, you cream her the moment the pleasure over takes her. 

Her cute expression of bliss and submission to your superior frame is flooded with ecstasy and pride when you flood her cavern and womb with a thick load that is meant to stick inside her and eventually form a baby. Joohyun frantically holds onto your arms stabilizing her ever twitching body, her glassy eyes looking at you in reverence and servility. 

"Th-thank you, Master," she whispers, her face and chest flushed with happiness, both a bit puffed from pride and soreness as her walls still milk you. "It feels so warm."

"I know what you're feeling," you coo into her ear and feel her burn up even more. "Finally, no condom, no contraceptive, nothing blocking my seed from blooming in your tight tummy. Every orgasm before this pales in comparison, because this one was real.

"So I'm giving you more."

"Ma-Master, I don't deserv—ahh!"

You put every vampire to shame when you furiously bite down on a pale sweet spot between Joohyun's neck and shoulder. Unlike vampires however, the faint taste of blood pulls you back to reality, that it's better to just fuck Joohyun's cum-filled cunt deeper than getting your teeth into her deeper. Nonetheless, the euphoric girl has both arms around you and tightly clings to you.

"Ma-Master," she cries out. "I ca-can't take it any-anymore."

"Don't care," you growl, empathy foreign to you. "I don't care if your pretty feet or legs or hips go numb. You'll take my cock until I want to stop."

You glare at her, eyelids hiding sniveling, tears begging for mercy as once again, overstimulation breaks her. What a weakness to still have. It’s part of Joohyun, sure, but you thought she would’ve grown past it, especially for this moment.

"You wanted this Joohyun. You wanted Master to breed you. You begged for it, don't you fucking bitch to me now. Did I make a mistake in choosing you? Are you really ready to give up your idol career if you can't handle me like this?" 

Every word sliced into her. It's been ages since you broke her down like this, not just physically and sexually, but verbally. It was like she was your trainee all over again, a dominant, crushing hand on her throat, an unrelenting pelvis crashing down on hers.

"I will fuck you for however long I want..." 

You pause for a moment and choke her even harder. 

"Suzy can take it. Why can't you?"

"I can, Daddy!” Joohyun screams, finally fighting for herself against herself. “Make me a baby mommy, don't listen to my stupid mouth. You, you own this pussy!"

Feel Joohyun's pussy struggle to take all the cock and cum when you fold her to a painful degree and watch her face become just a canvas for tears. It's also red, like her bleeding shoulder or her round butt which you spank over and over again, red like her sore pussy lips or her insides. 

"Good thing that you're still tight," you scold Joohyun and spit at her face. "At least your pussy is trying to make your real dream come true."

"Master, I'm cumming."

"Shut up. I don’t care. Put your own fingers around your throat. Spread your pussy lips. Look at me, while I destroy you.

"While I end your career, Irene."

A second load, pumped and mixed into the first and ultimately overflowing from Joohyun's gaping hole. The moment you pull out, she knows that this will be it. She is going to be pregnant, no way around it.

You gently cup her face, look at an expression of bewilderment, hurt, happiness, sadness, pain, confusion. Not the first time that you've destroyed a young woman like this while making her pregnant. A kiss to ease the pain a bit, she thinks, but it's just a set up for a reality check.

"I'm a bit disappointed," you tell her. "I needed your full devotion, but it seems you have forgotten how to take a second load.

"That said, I don't regret it. You're beautiful and ready. I think your group deserves one more comeback, then you can tell them what happened."

"Th-thank you, Daddy."

"You can stop choking yourself, by the way."

"Yes, Daddy. I-I love you."

[jazjelspen]

my angel baby (part 5)

(angel w/ angel daughter reader)

(caution!!!!!: mild descriptions of violence)

(notes: alastor joins charlie and vaggie in heaven to convince them about the hotel. angel reader resembles a fawn.)

(tags: @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @just-here-reading @avitute @iam-d3ad-ins1de @des-deswain5621 @xephieeee @glowymxxn @potaturkey17 @insomniacfigure @pooplyface1423 @mo-0-o @thekanrojimitsuri2 @nevermorekisses @wildfire153 )

My lovely editor<333: @kruncher

You were now in Rosie’s Emporium.

In Cannibal Town.

God.

In absolute shambles you were.. if it were in any other place it would be embarrassing seeing your state but considering the drastic circumstances and absolute 180 in the changes of temperatures, colors, smells, energy and even uncovered emotions that you haven't felt since you were a human finally coming out of the shadows and resurfacing, it all simply felt too much and was overwhelming your psyche.

Yet despite this— you knew you had to tough this out.

But here you were, gentle hands trembling and holding a cup of.. tea.

At least you really hoped it was tea.

“Now sweetie what in the unholy world are you doing down here? Hm?

Now now don’t keep me in suspense, if it helps any I’m not going to let anyone else’s filthy hands get on your pure little self!

Oh and me included, minus the filthy hands, mine are quite taken care of.”

This lady only made you cower a bit more simply by talking. Her sharp teeth and this confident air around her only intimidated you more.

If that’s the case.. how’d you even get in this building? Surely you had enough time to run from her in the middle of it..

Well, it's simply because she kept you from getting eaten by yet an oncoming crowd that saw the interaction with you and this apparent 'Susan' to which they seemed to have taken the old lady’s comment a bit.. too much to heart.

Their claws and baring mouths full of sharp bone, tongues salivating in wanting to try a taste of your fresh golden blood that gave off a sweet scent to them from afar.

She managed to scurry them all off with a few demands and a set of sharp words of her own, keeping you safe from becoming cannibal food for the day and honestly you'd rather be on this lady's good side if she had that kind of power to drive away the cannibals the way she did.

Your wing was even cleaned and bandaged by her despite your constant flapping in distrust and fear when she came near, feathers sprawling everywhere as if several pillows were ripped open in a kind of violent pillow fight. You were seated at a table with two chairs facing each other on each side, a bit farther back in the emporium.

“…Promise you won’t eat me, miss..”

The lady smiled fondly, her expression looking like she’s smiling towards a young child scared of the big wide world. She seemed to be genuine and true with her actions but you just really wanted to get to the hotel as soon as you could..

“Of course little thing, I promise I won’t.

Oh and where are my manners! The name's Rosie, sweetheart, I own the Cannibal Town and I lead the Cannibal Colony. Absolutely pleased to meet you."

You looked up at her with eyes full of fear and a hesitance to trust her, to give her any information at all about your circumstances.

But you weren’t raised to lie.. maybe twisting the truth wouldn’t hurt much? Keeping a few things under the rug?..

“Nice to meet you too miss Rosie..you may call me-- uh- ______.

Look I’m.. Im just looking to get back home. I heard Charlie Morningstar can help since she was in heaven awhile ago and she's the Princess of Hell, I must speak with her soon..”

The woman’s face brightened up like the sun with her sharp-toothed smile widening in remembrance. Spooking you out a tad..

“Charlie Morningstar! A real sweet thing that girl, adorable little blonde. Just a few months ago she came about and managed to convince my town of misfits to help her in preparing to defend the hotel against the angels! My goodness did she sweep them off their feet!

But yes, I know exactly where her hotel is! I can take you there as well, not a long stroll from here I'm sure. Oh but.. "

She paused with the back of her hand gently grazing your spread injured wing, it recoiling back at her touch.

"Wouldn't be surprised if any other wild sinner would want to hunt you down for sport, so maybe a nice stroll would be out of the question."

Her pale hand then moved to hold the end of her chin, the other resting on her hip as the gears in her heard started moving to find a safer passage to the hotel for you to get there.. her piqued interest in you has her wanting to see you advance a bit to see what potential you could have in this entire quarry between the both worlds at war.

"Aha! Perhaps we could have you hide inside one of those delivery carriages the townspeople have been taking in and out here to bring materials and food to the hotel. That way you avoid being seen by any potential eyes that could bring bad luck to you."

She walked up towards the large window illuminating the inside of the emporium as well as the two of you with light from Hell's pink and red hues that brighten the entirety of the realm. Her eyes now searching for a particular large object and... voila! She found it right across the town square and standing right in front of a local shop.

"Oh isn't this just perfect! There is one right there, the timing couldn't be more convenient."

You inhaled a quick breath and exhaled it as fast as it came, somehow still incredibly nervous being in a small space with this woman. Oh geez..

But you couldn't exactly complain since you did contribute in having yourself in this situation.

"So.. could we perhaps go.. now? I just.. want to head home as soon and safe as possible ma'am.."

She then suddenly turned to look at you, dress twirling and the feathers on her hat swaying in a way that indicates their movements could barley keep up with hers.

"Oh but of course! Considering half of the town's population is working on the hotel I must visit and check up on them as much as I can. I also must visit a dear ol' friend of mine, real gas that man is.

Well, then let's hop to it now shall we? We better hurry up while our tool of transportation is still here."

Your ears peaked up in slight delight at the fact that you're actually going to be heading over to the hotel now! So soon as well! This saves you so much more time, effort, and blood in trying to find the place you just knew you had to thank the woman in dark fuchsia and gray for taking you all this way. A little voice couldn't help but nag at you at how too convenient this all is.

Too bad you didn't think too much into that.

"Y..Yes! Yes ma'am!" You got up from your seat and set down your cup saucer on the table and scrambled to catch up to her and her pace with your heart pumping in your chest.

Both of you strolled across the Cannibal Plaza towards and up to the local shop with two large delivery carriages that seemed to lean on to a more older style, with them seemingly from the 1900s and were designed as if they were to hold containers like dairy and such and even people, it includeda large window on the driver's seat where they could peak in by turning their backs and looking down.. oh and it'd be a crime to not mention the horses! Although they seemed more undead and violently volatile like their cannibal owners they still were a nice touch.

Rosie and you approached them, Rosie with more confidence and you.. the opposite. "Walter, George," she spoke, an air of casualness persists "Good to see your faces alive and well! Hope you two got a minute to speak to two esteemed gals?"

The men, named Walter and George, looked up at the two of you with interest.

"Well if it isn't our Rosie! Good to see you as well madame, we sure hope you're enjoying this fine day with glee!" the man, seemingly the one called Walter spoke.

Rosie chuckled, "Oh I sure am, I even found myself a new little friend here! Which leads me in having to ask the both of you for a favor that is of most importance."

The other cannibal that goes by George focused his eyes on her and her words, "Why, anything for our beloved Rosie! What can we do for you ma'am?"

You hid slightly behind Rosie, feeling a strange comfort in just her status and power over rest of her people that made you feel at least a bit more safe from them. You would've continued listening to her conversation with the two men if the distant yet also near sound of explosions echoed across all of Hell which made you jump a little and stifle a gasp ever so slightly.

No one exactly noticed this or acknowledged the sounds too much which got you thinking if this is truly just an everyday thing.. of course it is it's hell but-- geez.. how can anyone live like this! Explosions, blood, guts, corpses, drugs, diseases, infections running rampant and indulged in the way pigs would at old farm food.

Just the thought of that damn severed hand being eaten by that little kid that you stumbled upon earlier just made you sick.. ugh.

Is this what Alastor indulges in as well?.. in his own sick way? Is he truly comfortable in a place like this?..

He must be, if he's murdered as many as he did when he was alive, you didn't dare think how many he's hurt and murdered down here as well.

He truly did belong here, in hell. He was a sadist and a psycho through and through.

And that's what disgusted you the most.

"You hear that dear! One of them is half near empty! Let's head on at once!”

Rosie finally snapped you out of your thoughts, you then just nodded as if you were present in the moment this entire time.

Rosie put a hand behind your back to guide you to the back of one of the delivery carriages and as one man held the doors open for the two of you, you both went in and sat down on the neat little benches on the inside and you couldn't help but to acknowledge the several boxes of nails and other unmentionables that you assumed was meant for the hotel and the people working on it.

Eventually after the doors closed you managed to get light by the large window that brightened up the darkness in your new much smaller environment.

“You know ______ darling, you remind me of someone I know.”

Rosie’s sudden voices spooked you quite a bit, it was a bit out of nowhere as it interrupted the awkward silence between the two of you.

“I.. do?”

She nods as her hands rested on the handle of her closed umbrella, sitting in a most elegant way.

Thank goodness she was versatile, considering the circumstances.

“You remind me of a certain friend I’m going to see when we reach the hotel, you see he’s a very powerful fellow. Charming and helpful but.. what interests me more is how alike you both look..”

It’s starting to click slightly once she said ‘he’.. god you just hoped she wasn’t referring to Alastor -- even though you knew how likely it is that she was.

"Oh? Really?.. " acting oblivious I see, but before you could properly respond to her the sound of a whip could be heard with the loud neighs of a horse following right after, making the carriage start moving.

The ride wasn't too bad, a bit traumatizing sure and you really got a good experience of hell.. more or so decent.

In the middle of your ride you seemed to have passed by a rival gang having a shootout considering the two flying bullets that punctured your vehicle which most definitely tensed you up, yet you tried to relax seeing Rosie's opposite reaction.

Then you heard many yowls and screams of ache and pain, all with their own sounds of bodies falling or the sound of wet and squishiness following the disgusting act of puncturing with some sort of weapon you couldn't even imagine can be heard despite passing by the sounds quickly.

The live murders made you feel queasy in ways that made you almost want to throw up but knew you had to keep your head up high.

God, knowing you can't see anything but still hear everything is absolute torture for your wild imagination.

"Miss Rosie, does this--" a loud boom from afar interrupted you, making you almost shrivel up "--does this.. amount of chaos truly...happen everyday?.. I know it’s.. hell but-- isn't there at least one day where this isn't happening?.."

"Oh it never stops darling. It's hell and it will keep going this way until the end of time. I do apologize though.. seems as if your pure little head isn't used to this kind of environment." Duh. "Oh but then that means you'll surely get along with the princess, if anything she seems to be more fit to be an angel."

You simply huffed as your hands trembled on your lap.

This place was downright unpredictable, and you truly hope you would be able to leave this place right after the war.

You miss home already.

----------------------------------------------------

Finally arriving at the Hazbin Hotel was a real treat.

Not really actually-- pfft.

At least not when you had to be around even more cannibals..

Now you knew why the town seemed a little.. empty. The rest were all here.

Charming of them to be helping out but thanks to 'Susan' you didn't want to interact with any of them.

Walking out of your carriage you felt your heart up in your throat and slowly start to beat at a violent pace. Your anxiety was rising.

Rosie lead you to the front of the hotel doors, seemingly dusting herself off fixing her hair and hat before her hand turned into a fit to knock at the door.

You did the same thing she did, except in a more nervous and trembly way. Alastor was in here.. you were sure of it. You could feel it in your bones and your veins wanting to pop blood from out your ears and nose was seemingly close to happening with how hard the beating of your pulse got once Rosie finally did what you were dreading slightly.

knock, knock.. knock.

'okay _____ stay calm. you knew this was going to be bad, but you're here now.. just breathe, breathe...' you followed your own advice and took an inhale but as you let your shaky exhale out the door was slowly opening.

your eyes were staring dead at the head of the door.

was it Charlie? Vaggie? Alastor?--

"Hello there, just came to deliver someone who was looking for the Hotel. Oh and I came to check up on my cannibals and on Alastor."

Rosie all but confirmed it.

She knew Alastor.

For some reason, your heart sank, not just because she knew Alastor very well apparently but because this feels like a sort of strange betrayal.

You really wished she would've told you.. but if she did you would've freaked out even more-- and maybe she could tell?.. wait-- how would she even know your connection to him anyway??.. looking like a fawn couldn't just straight up tell her..

Yet when you finally looked up at the now open door it was actually none of those three that you knew of.

It was a.. cat? A grumpy lookin' one.

He looked at you and up at Rosie, her arm proceeding to go behind your back to push you gently up closer to the door as if to tell the cat to let you in. His eyes widened at the look at you and your physical attributes.. your wings and halo catching his eye but your fawn like appearance only enhancing the tension in his face a lot more.

He eventually let out a husky sigh with the expression on his face relaxing, his voice being very low and his years were audible in his vocal chords he then turned behind him to loudly announce one single thing from afar:

"You've got company."

He turned back at the two of you and opened the door for you to go through, Rosie guiding you in first.

"He's inside talking to the princess, just walk ahead, take a right and you'll see him." He spoke straight forwardly and serious, it made you feel a little unwelcome. Yet as you walked in you couldn't help but feel those eyes of his stick to you like glue.. you couldn't really blame him-- you were sure they don't see an angel everyday the way you are with hell's environments.

The clicking of Rosie's shoes and the gentle pitter patter of your own gave you goosebumps up your arms, and the more you walked and the closer you heard certain voices the more your spine crawled.

One step.

Two steps.

Three steps.

Four steps...

You could barley hear anything but the thumping of your own heart.

The small area of the hotel seemed to have been a sort of living room, sets of chairs and sofas surrounding a television box that seemed to be from one of the more later years after your time.

A calm Alastor and a stressed out Charlie were seated on the two different sofa while facing each other with papers and maps scattered around the table in the middle. Rosie lead you further to have you be in the view of the both of them.. you could've sworn her smile stretched as she did so

"Well if it isn't our beloved Rosie! What a warming surprise!--" Alastor's voice cheered until the end, where a sharp radio static interrupted his sentence and irritated those ears of yours.

"Rosie!" Charlie stood up from her seat in a polite yet frazzled state "Thank you so much for visiting!.. and I-- oh.."

The silence was deafening. You waved awkwardly as you avoided eye contact with your father and faced Charlie herself, her eyes basically ready to budge out and her jaws hanging slightly.

"Just came to visit and bring a little gift! I found this little bird during my stroll around my cannibal town and she seems to need your assistance! Isn't that right ______ darling?"

Rosie finished her sentence by patting your shoulder gently before her hands finally rested on the handle of her umbrella once more. You fiddled with your hands as you shined an awkward smile.. you looked like a child about to give a powerpoint presentation to a class..

'oh dear.. "

—--------------------------------------------

It was yet another cold and dark night in the beautiful New Orleans, faint night music can be heard even in the dead of night from the nearby clubs. A fresh and gentle night,

Ah but.. Alastor wasn’t exactly getting his hours of much needed sleep, for he had been rudely awakened by the cries of a baby.

Yes, you were around ten months old at this time and Alastor was yet to get used to this. There wasn’t a day that passed by where he didn’t think of dropping you at an orphanage. But then again.. It wasn’t that hard to get you to stop crying so those heinous thoughts left very quickly. Except for this day, he was getting challenged by a ten month old you.

“Shh shh shh.. goodness _____ please just go to sleep..” he mumbled, definitely frustrated. Despite his pleas, you just kept on crying and crying while resting over his shoulder. He fed you, patted your back, rocked you to sleep.. nothing worked– unfortunately Alastor wasn’t thinking of one of the most obvious solutions to this situation since the poor guy was too tired to truly think properly.

He kept gently patting your back, shushing you and cooing softly in hopes to tire you out. Your small yet mighty cries continued to rage against his ear..

god he had no idea what to do.

That was when he held you, his hands under your arms as he had you held in front of his face. His glasses were sloppily slapped above his nose, eye bags under his eyes, and a small smile was threatening to turn into a huge frown.

“Little lady.. I don’t appreciate you keeping me up longer than usual tonight, what in the world could you want?” Alastor asked you despite knowing you couldnt understand let alone talk to him back. You simply looked at him with big innocent eyes filled with tears, your baby face stained with dry and wet tear stains and your mouth nibbling on your hand on the verge of crying all over again. Alastor couldn’t help but to look at you almost blankly, he just wanted to sleep.

Gahh but then your eyes started watering again, your little bottom lip curled up over your top one as it quivered and looked at him with these little pained eyes as if he just told you the worst thing ever.

“Oh don’t look at me like that..” he mumbled.. Dreading the feeling you gave him when you cried– it felt like your cries were hurting him, it pained him hearing you cry so hard.

He wasn’t exactly fond of feeling this.

Your loud crying resumed once again, Alastor let out a huge sigh.

“Oh fine- I apologize.. There, better now?” you cried harder, clearly.. no.

He groaned as he then rested you on his chest, your face over his shoulder once again. If your crying wasn’t going to stop he might as well listen to a song to calm his agitation. And so he did, he headed to the living room to then turn on the phonograph. With the device already having a disc in it he simply had to turn it on so it could play where it left off and the second it released the sound of bliss he let out a sigh of relief, that at least despite the crying he could at least go through this as calmly as possible.

The music wasn’t exactly loud, very faint in fact yet he could still hear it a little bit over your crying. He hummed to the tune of the song as he simply patted your back gently and waited for your cries to disintegrate.

This was one of his favorite songs as they were from a musician that is recently becoming incredibly famous in the music industry and Alastor was fascinated by their use of melody and sound.

Melodies that reminded him of the days of his mother when she was still gracing the earth, a real saint that woman was.

Sometimes he talks to her through a photo of her on the wall, asking her questions she’ll never answer, seeking advice and wisdom that he won’t ever be able to hear again.

If only her sickness didn’t overtake her as fast as it did, maybe she would know what to say to motivate him more in this moment of struggle.

He thought and thought and thought as if his head would burst if he didn't.. wondering how she would help him in raising you. What she would say, her suggestions, recommendations.. what would she do in a situation like this.

He knew he had to stay calm and stay in control, he had to keep smiling for that’s what his mother always did no matter what came her way.

She handled it with grace, poise, and with a smile.

It took him around an hour of overthinking about his mothers death, you, his future, his job, and his.. pff.. fascinations.. the lack of sleep seriously taking a toll on him as his want was slowly getting tired of patting you.

But most of all he was thinking about you. His future included yours.

How kind.. despite being so heartless.

Oh.. the song ended and all that was left was the soft static from the machine, blissful silence was all that was heard.

Wait..

Silence?

He looked over his shoulder to look at you, your little baby cheeks squished against him, your eyes closed and your breathing steady..

Finally! You're asleep.

Another sigh of relief released from his lips, continuing to loudly hum the same song that was playing earlier as he slowly walked out of the living room towards his room, now stopping at your crib.

He continued humming as one of his hands held the back of your head and the other held your back, gently placing you in the crib while humming the tune he kept you close while he set you down so you wouldn’t suddenly burst in crying again.

Once he gently managed to place you down with no fuss.. He was darn ready to sleep.

Oh but he took a moment to look at you, leaning against the railings of your ‘bed’ made specifically for you.

Your little baby fat and your squishy cheeks that made your little face even cuter– once again, he was never fond of kids let alone babies but hell if only you didn’t look at him the way you did on that rainy day he found you.. Giggling and smiling even when you didn’t have a single clue of what your situation was as a month old baby.

“You are definitely a handful.. If you kept crying I might have left you in an orphanage by now.” he whispered and joked to himself– no matter the cruel jokes he makes he’ll always find laughter in moments or scenarios of despair.

He’s too far gone now though, he’s bought all your necessities and his home basically screams of a baby’s presence, so even if he truly wanted to do that he knew it’s too late to turn back and you're stuck to him forever.. Well however long ‘forever’ is.

"Domestic life was never quite my style.. still isn't, but I can simply make a few exceptions."

“Well now.. sweetest of dreams, little dove.” he mumbled quietly before finally heading to his own bed himself.

Alastor finally settling in and finally getting comfortable and very slowly falling asleep himself.. glasses back on his nightstand and the noise around him becoming fainter and his mind seemed to finally start powering off for the night.

Finally.. time to sleep.. there's much work to do tomorrow.

Until he heard shuffling from the crib.

‘Oh god.’

(thank you so much for reading part 5 of my angel baby! the stakes are gonna get real high between the reader and Alastor! hope everything goes well for the two when one of them starts interacting!(alastor lmao) hope to see you all in part 6 if you are willing to stick around! Im really only planning to finish this series until the very end or until you guys stop wanting it but nonetheless I hope we reach the end of this story soon!!)

[folkloresthings]

op81 + “bombarding them with blankets, tea, heating pads, and anything else they’d need when injured/under the weather”

the man grew up with 3 sisters, he DEFINITELY knows all the tricks to helping his partner with all the fun stuff around periods

[ ways to say ‘i love you’ ] bombarding them with blankets, tea, heating pads, and anything else they’d need when injured/under the weather with oscar piastri.

the first time you got your period at oscar’s place, it was about two months into your relationship. nothing was completely serious yet, all you both knew was that you liked each other more than you had ever liked anyone before. still, when you nipped to the bathroom in the middle of the movie he had chosen and saw your monthlies had started, you panicked blindly. stuffing some toilet paper in your panties as a cautionary measure, you quickly made your excuses and hurried out the door before oscar could question it.

the next time it happened, a few months later, you had no excuse to just run off. you were staying at oscar’s for the weekend — it had been planned for months, to have him all to yourself between races. you knew your period was due and so had packed everything you needed. the one thing you couldn’t avoid? oscar’s neediness.

“so pretty,” the australian murmured, lips nipping at the soft skin on your neck. the warmth of his body on top of you, the tv show on the screen long forgotten, almost distracted you completely from trying to bring up the fact that his advances couldn’t go any further.

“osc—” you started, but his lips finding that magic spot behind your ear sent your interruption to mush. “osc, wait a minute.”

the boy sat back, sweet concern lacing his pretty features, tracing your own for any cause of harm or distress. “what is it? did i do something?”

“no, no,” you assured, shaking your head. the heat in your cheeks began to rise, the words hanging on your tongue but too afraid to come to light. “i can’t. not today.”

“oh,” oscar mumbled, defeated, lips turning downward.

“i’m on my period,” you whispered, as if there was a room full of people to eavesdrop.

“oh.”

suddenly you wished the sofa would swallow you whole, or at least shrivel you up until you were small enough to hide behind one of the cushions. you weren’t embarrassed by the fact, it was completely natural. but with it being so early on in your relationship with oscar, you were both still trying to let the idealised sides of yourself shine through. part of you was afraid this would make it all too real for him.

“i’m sorry, osc,” you muffled, catching your bottom lip between bashful teeth, glancing up at him in suspense.

“shit, no — it’s okay,” he exclaimed, sitting up suddenly. quickly pulling his shirt over his head, you have to look for his tongue to see if that’s why he keeps tripping over his words. “uh, stay there. i’ll — i’ll be back.”

oscar vanishes through the living room door in a flash, leaving you alone on the couch in only your bra and shorts. curling into yourself, the embarrassment took over as your mind began to race. god, you had scared him off. he was probably going to pack your bags and call you an uber home. maybe you shouldn’t have come at all this weekend, instead making your excuses and faking a cough over the phone.

so caught up in your spiral of dread, you didn’t even hear your boyfriend come back into the room. in one hand, a cup of tea. in the other, a hot water bottle and some chocolate, balanced with a blanket under his arm.

“here, two sugars — just like you like it,” he murmured busily, setting the mug down on the coffee table. “i haven’t got many snacks but i can run to the shop and get you whatever you want. there’s some painkillers in the kitchen too, so let me know if you want any. but the hot water bottle will help the cramps for now.”

blinking up at him, you feel like you want to cry. how could you ever think that oscar (your sweet, lovely, darling oscar) would run off at the first sight of something real?

“hey, hey,” he cooed, noticing your watering eyes and wobbling lip. gathering you into his arms, he almost smiles at your adorable shock. “it’s alright, don’t cry.”

“i thought i’d scared you off,” you sniffle, rubbing your nose. oscar hooks a thumb underneath your cheek, pulling your gaze up to him.

“darling, i grew up with three sisters in the house,” he chuckled, brushing your hair back. “i’m an expert in this.”

rather than express your immense gratitude, for you didn’t really have all of the words, you nuzzle yourself back into his arms and squeeze his middle tightly. oscar only smiles, kissing the top of your head, and settling you close to his side. tea in your hand, hot water bottle tucked under the blanket, he lets your settle down before passing you the remote.

“put on love island,” oscar tells you, trying not to smirk when your eyes light up. “but this is the only time of the month i’ll ever watch it with you.”

with a kiss to his cheek and a delighted giggle, you flick through his tv until you find your favourite season of the series. while you’re busy with that, you don’t notice oscar making a quiet note in his calendar of when to buy you extra chocolate and flowers every month.