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orionremastered · 10 months ago

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Damian Wayne x Paramedic!Reader

Soulmate AU

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

You knew what curare was. The plant, originating from South America, was a plant drug that was used in the first forms of anesthesia before being replaced by newer agents. That left curare no longer as something useful, but as a deadly poison.

Curare relaxes the muscles until, eventually, the victim's diaphragmatic muscles no longer have the strength, causing the body to die of asphyxia.

It is in times like this, when you gaze over the hospital bed of your soulmate, that you wished you didn't know these things. You wished you didn't know how long it took for it to kill a human- twenty minutes at most- but your knowledge was useful. It was useful in the way that you knew the poison wasn't eaten or consumed.

That wasn't how curare worked.

The nurses found a pinprick from a needle in Damian's hand, indicating that was where the dosage was given to him.

In front of you suddenly, Bruce clears his throat. He passes you a coffee and you gratefully take it, drinking it practically in one go. “He must've felt the needle.”

Bruce sat back on the chair beside you, sighing into his cup. It was one of those paper cups and the billionaire looked comical drinking from it. “There are things that you one day will learn about my son,” he says in a low, deep voice, “But that day has yet to come.”

He offers no room for further explanation, and part of you doesn't want to know. Not with the way he said it.

With an understanding nod, your gaze drifts to the TV directly across from the bed. A news channel is playing, but the volume's all the way down. The news reporter- a lady with blonde hair in a fur coat as she stands outside the GCPD headquarters- finishes talking and smiles.

You read the headline and immediately point it out for Bruce.

VIGILANTES DETAIN SUSPECT OF WAYNE POISONING.

The suspect in question is heavily beat up, setting off alarms in your head you didn't know existed. You recognised him from the meeting in the Wayne Tower; one of the businessmen from another city.

Beside you, Bruce smiles. But only slightly; you have to triple check to make sure it's really there.

"Did they get him, father?"

The low voice startles you and your head immediately whips around to see your soulmate's eyes opened, watching his father until his gaze slowly turns to you.

"Hi," you say quietly, fidgeting with a pen you found in your pocket.

Damian slowly looks to his forearm where the words he and his family- both the Al Ghuls and the Waynes- dreaded. Instead of being written in black, they were now written in your favourite colour. The word on your forearm was now written in emerald green.

"How are you feeling?" you ask after clearing your throat.

There’s a moment of pause as he eyes you warily. A tired figure who’s worked too hard and for too long; someone who’s seen horrors and met lunatics all for a shitty paycheck. You don’t even know why you do your job; it’s something you always wanted to do, and it’s fulfilling, but sometimes those reasons didn’t feel like enough. “Better,” he finally decides.

Better. You could settle for better.

“I’d better get going, then. I’ve had a long day, so, uhm,” you scribble your phone number and name down on a piece of paper, placing it on the bedside table. “Here. Call whenever you want to talk.”

There’s no universe where Damian’s eyes widen a fraction when he realises you’re not staying, but perhaps in this one, he did. Giving a nod to Bruce, you head out the door, walking purposefully to the entrance.

The truth was; you’re not ready for publicity. Being a paramedic means focus on the job and having paparazzi following you around at work was far from what you wanted. You were busy. Galas you would skip from being too tired or your back hurting from lifting patients or simply not being able to take the day off due to lack of staff. You’d become a target for criminals across the city rather than a face they sought for help.

You had been the one to give him your number for whenever he was ready to talk, but maybe it should’ve been the other way around.

Harper slammed the passenger door to the ambulance shut, signalling the start of a busy night shift. It was the first shift you’d had together since you discovered the identity of your soulmate and you were grateful for a distraction.

You partner whistled awkwardly, casting nervous glances your way as you pull out of the station.

“Did you talk?”

“Briefly.”

“Exchange numbers?”

“Yes.”

“Did you… talk over text?”

“No,” you sigh, driving to the nearest coffee shop despite you knowing you wouldn’t make it before getting a call. “Maybe it’s a good thing. I mean, I don’t really want the publicity, you know?”

Harper nodded slowly. “Is he doing better?”

“Yeah, he got discharged an hour after I left. Checked the hospital staff portal.”

The computer beside Harper beeps, shifting your attention to it. “Elderly male complaining of chest pains, history of cardiac issues.”

“Nothing like a heart attack to change the subject,” you mutter, putting the topic of your soulmate in the back of your mind. Lingering, but never gone.

Half an hour until your shift ended. That was the only thing you could think about as the grey clouds hanging constantly over Gotham brightened with the rising sun. Your shift had been long, eventful and it was safe to say the pizza you managed to find open at this hour was the best thing you'd ever tasted.

"Do you think-"

Harper gets cut off by the sound of a message reaching your phone. He raises an eyebrow, smile growing as you roll your eyes and pull it out of your pocket. Truth is, you still weren't ready to register or make the decision on whether or not you wanted to be with someone like a Wayne.

Sorry for not texting you sooner. We should talk.

You change the new number's name to 'Soulmate' and fiddle with your phone case, trying to come up with a reply. Harper casts glances at the screen every few seconds, trying to act normal.

I can't have the publicity.

Your gut sours as you wait for a reply, but you can't seem to rip your eyes away.

I understand.

That is why we should talk.

"Maybe you should talk," Harper says. "It'll be worth it, I'm sure."

You know it will- you want to be with him, you want to have a future together and you want that yearning in your chest to be filled with satisfaction that maybe, just maybe, you can finally do life right.

But part of you- perhaps the rational part of you- believes that could never happen. You'd have to choose between your soulmate and your job. Helping the city, being anonymous, meeting new people and laughing with your colleagues- your best friends- doing what you love...

You turn off your phone without replying.

A/N: Requests are open for batfam if anyone has ideas (bc I heavily lack those rn)

Masterlist

#damian wayne x reader #batfamily #batfam #x reader #batfamily x reader

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lost-in-fandoms · 4 months ago

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I have written this. sort of. somehow even mushier than i thought it would be. cw: probably completely inaccurate medieval-esque terms

Daniel sits in the tent with his head bowed, eyes closed, enjoying the temporary peace. He knows he should go find someone to help him get out of his armor, knows he should get cleaned before the feast, knows he should maybe get his shoulder checked out, but his limbs are heavy and the tent is quiet.

It was a good tourney, lots of old rivals and new faces showing up for it, many exciting duels, but Daniel feels like he's getting a little too old for all this. His shoulder, where he had been hit over and over, aches terribly. He can feel the sweat mixed with dirt dry on his skin, a feeling that used to be associated with a good day of work, but that now only feels uncomfortable.

He should get up.

Before he can force himself to do it, the flap of the tent opens, sunlight and voices streaming inside, making him wince. The person holding it up is for a moment just a silhouette gesturing to someone outside, but Daniel doesn't need anything more to recognize them. He would know Max in the dark, with his eyes closed and his hands tied behind his back, just from the way his soul seems to get lighter in his presence.

He should get up, now more than ever. It's against protocol to stay seated in the presence of the King.

He closes his eyes again, doesn't move. The flap closes.

Max is quiet as he walks closer, even the sounds of his clothing seemingly muted, but Daniel doesn't need words to know when it's the moment to open his eyes. He has to look up to meet Max's, who's now standing right in front of him, face unreadable. If he hadn't just won the tournament, Daniel could be tempted to think he was unhappy. As it is, he knows Max is only trying to gauge Daniel's own mood before molding himself to it. As if he wasn't the King, owner of Daniel's whole life.

Max brings up a hand, gently cupping Daniel's cheek and swiping away some dust with his thumb, before moving further back, carefully slipping his fingers through his sweat matted hair.

"You did well today," he finally says. Daniel closes his eyes once more, wishing they weren't in a dusty, too-warm tent, but in Max's (their, really) bed up in the castle, cool linens against their skin, a solid door between them and the world.

"My King," is all he rasps out, voice as dusty as his body. He doesn't need to say anything more, Max bending down to kiss him, careful but solid, with the same unyielding certainty he governs with, unbothered by the dust coating his tongue.

"You should take a bath before dinner," he tells Daniel when he pulls back, still holding the back of his head. Daniel belatedly realizes his hands are still resting on his knees. His thoughts are tired and slow.

"I'll call..." Daniel starts to say, but Max interrupts him.

"I already sent for warm water and sent everyone else away."

When Daniel finally opens his eyes again to look at him, Max is smiling Daniel's favorite smile, the one that's a bit downturned and that makes him look soft and young.

"Let me take care of you."

Daniel should say no, it's not the King's job to help his knight get out of his armor, clean himself in the bath, but right now this isn't the King. This is Max, wanting to love Daniel. And Daniel has given up a long time ago on refusing him.

He nods, and Max gets to work.

They don't talk as Max undoes the leather straps of his besagews, carefully putting them to the side. One of them is bent, and as soon as it's gone, Daniel's pain lessens a little. With each piece of armor Max takes off, Daniel feels himself coming back a little, finding his center again.

He likes tournaments, they're exciting, they're fun, they're an opportunity to see familiar faces that are usually in other kingdoms, to eat and drink and get out of more boring duties. But it feels like every year it's a little harder to get into that persona, the Honey Badger who was almost King. Every year, he feels like he would prefer to just sit in Max's place, on the dais, and let him tourney instead. He knows he misses it, now that it's too dangerous for him to properly compete.

Max is on his knees, getting rid of Daniel's greaves, when the tent's flap opens again, a sliver of sunlight painting Max's hair golden. The page is wise enough to not open it fully and keep his back turned. Just because they're both clothed right now, Max's action would be scandalous enough to get the gossip mill going once again. Not in the palace, nobody bothers with that anymore, not after all these years, but there's enough people coming from other kingdoms around it could become unpleasant.

Daniel watches as Max pushes to his feet. He doesn't let anyone in, accepting the warm water instead, going back and forth twice to the wooden tub in the corner. When he's done, he shoos them away, saying something Daniel doesn't catch.

"Let's get you in before it goes cold," is what he tells Daniel. He makes quicker work of the rest of the armor, piling it all carelessly in a corner, but as soon as Daniel's undergarments come off, he pauses, fingers grazing over what Daniel knows will be a bad bruise on his shoulder.

"Do you need a cold compress?" Daniel shakes his head, even if he probably does. It would be too much work, to go ask for it, and he just wants to be clean.

He wonders, far from the first time, what people would say, if they saw Max like this. Their King, the feared Lion, on his knees, helping Daniel out of his braies, ducking under his arm to guide him to the bath, wetting a rag to clean his face.

It doesn't matter anyway. Nobody gets to see this. This is for Daniel only. This Max, the one who giggles at Daniel's jokes, whose cheeks blush crimson with his kisses, who unravels under his fingers, who gets on his knees again and again, uncaring of his title. This Max has always been Daniel's, even back when they were both just knights, Max as green and bold as they come. Daniel's, even when he got a crown on his head and Daniel got a permanent spot on his right. Daniel's, through the hard years, the summer droughts and long winter nights.

He reaches up as Max washes his hair, grabbing his hand and kissing the ring on his index finger, the twin of the one Daniel wore on a chain.

"Thank you, Max" he says, leaning his head back to be able to look at Max's face.

Max brushes a wet curl off his forehead, eyes soft.

"Always."

#maxiel #my writing #THE STRUGGLE of the last few sentences you wouldn't believe #it just didn't want to let me end????? girl i was suffering #and that's why the end is shit but oh well it's whatever #did i watch a video of a guy putting on and taking off his armor instead of revising more yes i did #be nice to me or something please i need it after today and knowing how shit tomorrow will be #if there are typos no there aren't <3

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withahappyrefrain · 10 days ago

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8 or 58 for Bob or Rhett! ❤️💕

Thanks!! The list is excellent.

I went with number 8 for Rhett!

Rhett didn’t know why his mother insisted on getting a dog. It wasn’t as if they didn’t already have several ranching dogs.

“It’s different! They essentially work for the ranch, they’re not a pet.”

So he wasn’t surprised when Ceceila brought home a cocker spaniel puppy. She would never go for a rescue, which is what Rhett wanted (as if he had a say).

And Rhett certainly didn't have a say when it came to taking care of Bella. As the puppy grew, so did Rhett’s responsibilities. Amy lost interest when the dog was no longer puppy sized, and Cecilia got more involved in the church as a way to deal with the shitshow that was her eldest son.

Which is how Rhett found himself driving Bella to the dog park. Because when the only shit to do is drink and watch bull rides, Wabang lost their minds over the new pet friendly park that was thirty minutes away.

“Is it that important she goes?” Rhett mumbled when Cecilia told him of his new afternoon plans.

“Of course! She has friends Rhett. And Bella will be so sad if she doesn't see her friends, won't you, pretty girl?” she cooed to Bella, who was currently sitting on the couch despite Royal saying that's exactly where he didn't want the dog to sit.

But it was nice to break the monotony of his day. Plus, it meant going to the outskirts of Cheyenne, which was still more developed than Wabang. Hell, he could even stop by Taco Bell on the way back, a rare treat. Bella could have a bowl of their potatoes, just without all that fake cheese sauce. His ma would kill him if she found out she let Bella eat such ‘trash food’, as if her cooking was any better.

So there he was, making his way towards the enclosed area, Bella tugging away.

“Hey, quit it!” He grunted, already regretting this. Rhett had half a mind to just go to Taco Bell now but then Bella let out that whine, the one that tugged on Rhett’s heartstrings.

He wasn't a monster, despite what folks insisted.

“Alright, alright. We’ll go in. But just for a little bit and you better behave yerself,” Rhett instructed before opening the gate.

Bella trotted in, immediately going up to several dogs to sniff.

Rhett found himself a corner where he could keep an eye on the dog, but was away from other people. He felt out of place with his hand me downed Caharrat jacket and worn boots. There were several people in the park who he found cute, but like hell if he was going to go up and talk to them.

After Maria left for the second time, Rhett imposed a ban on dating. At least for a while. After all, there’s only so many times a cowboy can try his best and get his heart broken in the end.

So instead, he watched Bella, who had now found herself a friend. Out of all the dogs in the park, Rhett found this one to be the cutest; caramel color coat with black fur surrounded their nose, expressive ears that were just a little too big for their body and a tail that went one hundred smiles per hour. Had to be some type of pitt mix, given their bicycle seat shaped head, which was perfect for pets. That was the kind of dog Rhett would want.

Bella seemed just as interested as Rhett, walking with the dog. Well, actually, more like following. He saw the other dog continuing to look back, seeing if Bella was still there.

“Hey Bella, quit it!” Rhett grumbled. Not that she listened. Great. His first time here and Bella was going to get them kicked out.

“C’mon Bella,” Rhett walked over to his mother’s dog, hoping he could just pick her up and take her home.

But the other dog had different plans. As soon as they saw Rhett, their tail wagged furiously as they came up to him, practically begging for pets.

Rhett Abbott was not a monster.

“Hey sweet girl,” He kneeled down, allowing the dog to seat themselves in between Rhett’s legs, “Is Bella bothering you? You want me to tell her to stop?”

The dog put his front paws up on Rhett’s thigh, gaining access to his face. Her breath wasn’t the greatest, but with a face like that, how could he be mad?

“I swear, she comes here for the people, not the dogs,” A sweet voice said.

Rhett looked up, only to have his breath taken away by you. You, who were without a doubt, the sweetest person Rhett had ever seen.

“Hey Bella girl!” You cooed, kneeling down to give Bella some pets, “I know you want to play, but Noodle is a covid puppy. She just wants pets.”

“Well, Bella needs to learn how to listen. Least she could do,” Rhett replied as he continued to pet Noodle, who was determined to lick the side of Rhett’s face.

“You must be one of Cecelia's sons?” Oh god. What had Cecelia already told you? His chances were already ruined before he could even start.

“Uh yeah. ‘M Rhett,” he reached out to shake your hand, trying not to focus on how soft your skin felt.

“Oh! The bull rider!” You exclaimed. If that was all Cecelia had told you, Rhett was never going to complain (out loud) about his mother’s cooking ever again.

“Yeah, that’s me,” He barely got out, his cheeks heating up.

“I also hear you’re the best Uncle to Amy,” there was a grin on your face, your eyes never leaving his.

“Well, I’m her only Uncle,” Rhett mumbled, failing to realize the joke.

Luckily you found it pretty cute. Along with the way he was so loving and gentle towards your dog.

“It’s okay if Bella continues following Noodle around. Noodle doesn’t mind, especially if it’ll help her get more pets,” you assured, gently squeezing Rhett’s hand to remind him to let go.

“The spot I was in has a good view of the whole dog park….if you want me to keep an eye on them.” Why would you want to stand next to him, God, he was so stupid and-

“I would love to join you, if that’s alright!”

Oh.

#my writing #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbot x reader #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott fic #outer range fic #outer range fanfiction

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undermine-the-instinct · 11 months ago

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Flies in Honey

Mahito/Reader/Yuji Word count 3K

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, EXTREME NONCON, mIndbreak, character death (reader insert)/ You’re already dead prior to this fic, Mahito uses your body, Mahito is his own warning, humiliation, victim blaming, profanity.

Aged up characters. Spoilers for jjk S2. Consider this an Au where Todo dies and Yuji loses against Mahito.

Yuji doesn’t know how he got here.

It's dark, and damp, wherever he is. It soaks into the rags of his clothes and his exposed skin, gravel tearing at his back. He hardly feels it.

The cracks on the ceiling fissure and twist together, but he’d rather look at them. It's better to look above him than what lies before him.

He’s wearing your face.

Above him, you sigh, breathy and high pitched, Your hips roll into his, and Yuji bites back a hiss. His hands lay limp at his sides.

“Why aren't you saying anything? I thought you would like this.” Your voice is wrong, you’re talking with his voice and Yuji feels the bile rise in his throat.

You switch rhythm, and Yuji chokes on his spit as you bounce up and down his cock. His hands spasm into claws, but no, he doesn't touch you. He won't, he won't.

You laugh. It's so fucked up but he sounds like you.

“You like this better, right?“

“Fuck you–” It was a bad idea to talk. Your– Mahito's hand shoots out and he sticks three fingers into his open mouth to gag him. Two on his tongue, the other on the roof of his mouth, keeping his mouth open. He chokes, but Mahito presses down on his tongue.

He’s going to come again. What number was this? He lost count around the fourth. All he could focus on was the hot coil in his belly, the tightening of his balls and that horrible fucking sound of your warped laughter when he spills, again.

It shouldn’t feel this good. He wants to tear his fucking skin off. He wants to bite down on the fingers in his mouth, he wants to curl into a ball and never wake up.

He's not going to admit to himself he's enjoying this, that he's missed this. It's not you. You're dead. You died, and it's Yuji's fault. All of it is. He got to you, and now he's wearing your likeness like it's a new coat, the bitch.

But damn, it really looks like you.

“I memorized everything about her, you know.” Your fingers leave his mouth, punched out gasps leave his chest while hands drag down his skin, drawing red lines.

“She was fun to play with. Stubborn too. Kept fighting even when I made her unable to,” he giggles.

“But she made the prettiest sounds when she finally broke. Prettier when we slept together too. She was just like you–Human. Always trying to deny yourselves at your most desperate, out of some half formed sense of dignity. See?” He presses down with your body, chest to chest while your walls flutter around him. Yuji’s eyes roll back, his hands leave bloody gorges in the ground.

“But human dignity is just the same as human depravity; you can't hide your baser instincts even in the worst circumstances, huh?”

Yuji would fight back, but his head is swimming, and his bones feel like they’re replaced with jello. There is a rage that simmers as he talks though, and Yuji bites his tongue until he tastes iron. It drips through the hole in his cheek. Mahito sees this and sighs.

"Your base instinct is to kill me. My base instinct is to murder your soul. That's what this is." He gestures between the two of them, not breaking pace. His hand drifts down, and he wipes away at the blood on his face, though he only succeeds in smudging it more.

“I did the same thing to her. Took your face and made her tell me how to do it right.”

“You’re sick–”

“I consider myself considerate. It's why you’re here and not dead.” He stops moving, tilts his head and meets Yuji's eyes in an eerie stare you've never given him. “Did you know that was my first time? I liked it.” You, fuck, he tilts your head, eyes pointed up in thought.

“Well, I'm a ‘human curse’ so I guess of course I would.”

“You fucking–” This time Yuji tries to buck him off, get some room in between them to get a hit in, but all he accomplishes is Mahito pushing him down and pinning his hands, going back to his earlier motions. Yuji's weaker now. Maybe its because its your face. He could never fight against you, even while sparring.

“That's how–I was able to memorize it too. All her faces, her sounds, what she likes. I wanted to understand you, through her. And now," a sound, high pitched and miserable leaves Yuji's throat.

"You like it too, right? A perfect replica, right? Wanna keep going?” Yuji just shakes his head, and tries to fight off his grip. But Mahito has more hands, and he remains pinned. He can't help the slight bucking of his hips, and when he notices, Mahito grins, a ruddy flush spreading across your face in a bald faced insult.

He can't breathe. He needs to vomit.

You had gone missing weeks ago, called on a mission to deal with a second grade level curse. Nothing too hard for you, it was a quick job and everyone had thought that you’d be in and out.

But cursed spirits have been acting strange lately, and everyone simply thought that it was due to the encroaching Halloween date. Due to various thoughts and practices towards the day, this was normal. But you had gone missing and the only sign of your whereabouts came from another encounter with the patchwork curse.

He went down to the sewers with Mr.Nanami, following the smallest clues they had towards your disappearance, where they met Patchwork. He had been vague and leering and lewd, and it was the first time Yuji saw Mr. Nanami’s face twist into such visceral rage. He mirrored the feeling, but Mahito had escaped, along with any other clues to where you were.

He had tossed a lump of...something to Yuji with a mocking grin, spongy and pale. They took it back to Miss Shoko, and it was confirmed to be a piece of your brain matter. Your death was confirmed.

Hope had dragged him along, weary and spitting blood, but losing you…was too much. Shibuya. Nanami, Kugisaki, Todo, you… His mind broke. He could feel the cracks. They fought, Mahito had knocked him unconscious, and dragged him to god knows where, and now he’s here.

And now he was faced with this horrible caricature of you, with too wide eyes and a leering grin that reminded him exactly of who was wearing your face.

Mahito didn't even seem that interested in the sex, too busy staring at the way Yuji reacted. His muscle spasms, the way he would jerk away from his touch or forward when he couldn't help it, the blank look on his face that sometimes twisted into an expression of such utter loathing– Or lust, and then his face would twist with such despair, a broken sob dragged from behind his clenched teeth, wrangled and bloody. Mahito felt the dark glee drip honey sweet through his soul, like the slick that ran down his thighs.

You really were a fun experiment. He knew how much you meant to Yuji, and initially just wanted to use you to damage his soul further. But where was the fun with that? You were something special. Yuji Itadori had plenty of friends and mentors, and killing any random person in front of him would always garner the same effect. But there was only one you. He wanted to understand you, and the exact place you held in Itadori’s life.

What made you special? What made you stand out to the one person, his natural enemy? Humans and their romantic relationships always seemed like a Greek tragedy to Mahito; Of course the person you let know all your weaknesses would be the one to destroy you in the end. Love always gave rise to hatred. It gave rise to a particular brand of hatred that made up Mahito, and if he was anything, he was always curious to know the full substance of his soul. That's where you came in.

“We would talk, and I'd have her tell me all about you–” Mahito drawled. “I had to pry out all the other stuff but she eventually spilled. I wanted to know everything you see,” he punctuates his words by slowly pulling himself off of Yuji's cock, before dropping down with a slap of flesh. He watches in fascination as Yuji’s lower belly flutters.

“We made deals the other half of the time. A few less experiments if she talked, or let me touch her.”

“I’m going to fucking kill you–”

“I got bored eventually, after she told me everything, and I took everything I could... I don't even remember what I did to her in the end."

Mahito wondered, if love gave rise to hatred, would you hate your lover for not rescuing you? Or for being the true target of Mahito's morbid intrigue? He never got his answer, you never voiced any thoughts like that, and strangely, he sensed no hatred at all when you died. Not for Yuji, or even for himself. You were probably too broken.

Mahito shrugged. “Oh well. She’s dead now anyways.” An ugly, violent sound tears through Yuji’s throat, and finally his hands reach out to grab at his–your waist with a bruising grip. He shoots up and doesn't let Mahito move, and Mahito is curious about this reaction, so he waits while Yuji catches his breath.

“You…how can you…just do that to people? She never did–she never did anything wrong–” His head comes to rest on your collarbone, and Mahito watches this all play out with an intense curiosity, and a growing glee.

Yuji continues to break down, tears slipping from his eyes down to the soft flesh of your breast.

“What the fuck did you do to her…why the fuck did you take her…" Mahito sighs, lets the familiar timber of your voice take over, and drags a hand through Yuji’s hair. Not as gentle a touch as he made you demonstrate on him, but Yuji shudders, and burrows further into the mimicry.

“Yuji.” At the sound of our voice, your true voice, Yuji's shoulders shake horribly.

So this is grief? Or despair? Mahito remarks. What's the difference? He watches Yuji as he shatters. Yuji sobs, ugly and loud off the sewer walls when Mahito starts moving again, but his hips thrust shallowly into your slick cunt.

Mahito wondered, had wondered, if love gave rise to hatred, then you just needed to love him, right? If he wanted to understand your place in his enemy's life, your place as his 'lover', than you just had to love him, right? And lovers do things together, they talk about their vulnerabilities, they watch and learn their tics and preferences and dislikes and habits. They stick through the good and bad. And Mahito was….bad.

Yuji continues to sob, but he tilts his head back and starts fucking him back, soft whimpers slipping past his bitten lips.

“I’m sorry, I’m so damn sorry, ah–! Fuck, I'm sorry, I wasn't there, I let him get to you, fuck I’m sorry I let him hurt you–”

This isn’t even about the sex. But Mahito is a disaster curse–he was born from hate. And hate has flavors. Rage, vindictiveness, envy, glee; he’s all of them. And the hatred rising from Yuji Itadori is so potent and despair riddled that Mahito sighs, and in an act unbidden comes with a choked out gasp.

Its sudden. Mahito hasn't orgasmed once this entire ordeal before, but as soon as he does, Yuji groans, deep and guttural. His head flops back to the hard ground, and immediately his gasps turn shallow and fast before he pulls your hips down and comes in thick, hot ropes.

Is it because Mahito is wearing your face, or did he always hold on this tightly to you? Mahito is sure he’ll see dark purple bruises on your skin when he lets go, and Mahito decides he’ll keep them. He’s never fixed you, after all, so bruises were a common sight. He just wonders how it’ll look as it ‘heals’. Maybe Yuji could give him some pointers on the visual front.

Yuji lays there, and cries. The tears cut clean streaks through the blood and dirt and grime, and Mahito stares, and he stares. His pink hair is flat, and stringy with dried blood.

"Why are you pretending you don't like this?"

"What...?"

he tilts your head. "Its sex. Even if you're not one for carnal pleasure I still look like her. I still feel like her. Don't you love her?"

"No...I--"

"You dont?"

"I do, you're just--! Fuck, get off of me--" Mahito swats his hands away, almost halfheartedly, clicks his tongue.

"If you did 'love her' than wouldn't you stop me already? I read a plot like this in a book once... Shouldn't you kill me for 'defiling her memory' or something? You're enjoying this."

"I'm not--"

"You are."

"I'm--"

"You are. Stop denying it. I'm not going to stop if that's what you're scared of." Mahito chuckles.

“What the fuck…is your problem, what do you want?” Yuji gasps out. His breaths are shallow and his voice is high patched, chest rising up and down, up and down, too fast. He runs his thumb over his collarbone if only to feel the rabbit-fast pulse.

“What do I want...?”

“Why me? Why do you want to break me? ‘Natural enemy?' I don't even know what that means...” Mahito is silent for a moment longer, enjoying the moment, before he leans over. With the use of Idle transfiguration, your mangled face takes up Yuji’s vision, and he feels the breath die in his throat.

“You are my natural enemy Yuji Itadori. But I can't kill you. Physically, that is. So this is the next best thing.”

“You, I–”

“Don't take my words too seriously, I am a curse after all,” Mahito brushes your hair out his face and leers.

“But you seem to think that this is a punishment. This is a reward, Itadori.”

“‘Reward’?” He hiccups.

Mahito nods.

“Without you, I would have never gotten to understand my soul on such an intimate level. I know the essence of my soul because of you.” He leans closer, breath full of mirth and rot.

“And I thought, surely you missed your little girlfriend. And isn't intercourse the most sacred act between two lovers?” Mahito shrugs.

“An experiment for me on whether this would fully break you or not. You can consider it a gift though.”

“You think…you think I want to see her like this?”

“Yes?”

“No!”

“Then would you like to see what's left of her?” Mahito points back to the mouth of the sewer. Tortured, anguish moans rise from there, and Yuji can already guess what was there. Despair grips his heart and rips it out.

“Don't worry, I didn't tranfigure her, actually. I bet I can find the parts of her around somewhere …but only if you ask nicely.” Again, he thrashes, but from battle, or loss, he’s weak.

No, Yuji knows why. He could never raise a hand against that face. Even now, seeing dark purple bruises on a body that even resembles yours makes guilt curl in his chest.

“Get off of me."

“What was that? You're talking so low I can't hear you.”

“Get off of me!” Mahito drawls out a low note, but surprisingly, he does as he’s told. Yuji hisses as he slides off his dick, letting him feel the drag of your walls and how they flutter. It's familiar, and Yuji wants to kill something when he thinks of how this curse must have learnt that from you.

He wants to kill himself when his breath hitches at the feeling.

Mahito gets off, but does not release his hands. The image of an extra pair of hands holding him down creates enough clarity for him to differentiate between the two of you, and Itadori growls under his breath.

Your face smiles down at him, and Itadori tries not to stare back. Just like that, the anger is gone. He’s missed you, after all.

“...You know I'm getting out of here, right?”

“And you’ll try killing me. I know. That's if you don't come back for this, though.” He gestures with a stitched hand the bare curves of your body.

“You’ve killed my puppets, transfigured humans, even the kid ones! Shibuya didn't break you, killing Mister 7:3 didn't break you, or that Gorilla, that hammer woman’s death almost did… but something tells me…”

He slithers up and slots himself against Yuji’s side, and it's an ingrained habit to hold you. He jolts back quickly enough in horror, but Mahito grabs his arms, and keeps them on him.

“Killing me while wearing this face would really shatter you, hm? it's why you didn't stop me when I dragged you here and did what I did. You let me. You let this happen." He shakes his head even before you, fuck, it's done. He denies it, because what else could he do?

Mahito moves to hiss in his ear.

"Is it because of guilt? You're so human, Itadori Yuji.” And his eyes switch to that familiar silver and blue.

“Even if it's self loathing, I can still sense it. That hatred. You’ll come back, and I'll break your soul down some more each time. Little by little…until eventually, one of us kills the other. That's how this is going to go.” He rests your head on his shoulder, listening to the dull drag of his heart. The movement is so familiar that Yuji could cry again, but he holds it back.

“....So that's how it is.”

“Yup. Oh, and I'm still waiting for my thank you.”

“....”

He sits up, and laughs at the way Yuji’s eyes go pinprick small, copying your laughter down to a terrifying degree. Yuji doesn't know how, he’s sure you never laughed in a place like this.

“Hate me all you want, it only makes me stronger. But, even if it's unconventional, I still let you see her, feel her. I want a thank you for that.”

And Yuji must truly be broken because what if I really never see her again? What if I never hear her voice or touch her? This here, horrible as it was, was both knife and balm, like peroxide on an open wound. Cleansing and burning.

“....”

“Well?”

If…he just pretends it was you, if he just watches your mouth and imagines….

He used to thank you after sex in the beginning, before you told him to stop thanking you like you were being paid to sleep with him. Of course, this led to the private joke, where you would demand your payment–anytime, anywhere, and he would smother you in kisses. Fushiguro, Kugisaki and even Gojo-san would roll their eyes or tease or gag, but he loved it. He knew you did too, with how often you used the joke.

“...Thank you.”

Fuck, he misses you.

“Nuh uh uh! Not like that!” Mahito shoots up, hovering your face over his again, noses touching. He switches his eyes back for yours, extra arms gone.

“Thank her. Like you used to. Go on.” He's broken. Yuji is broken.

He reaches a hand and cups the side of your face like he used to. You cant into it like a cat, and a fondness rises in his chest, just to be awashed by despair. He has to clear his throat, and still his voice breaks.

“Th-Thank you...” And because he can't help the fact that it's you, it looks just like you, he pulls you down for a kiss. It's so familiar, down to the way you would tilt your head to the side, and your tongue would swipe over the bottom of his lip. But Mahito bites down, reopening a wound from when he bit his tongue earlier. Blood fills his mouth, but Mahito laps it up. His tongue pokes at the hole in his cheek.

He pulls away, and his eyes are still yours, warm and loving, red smeared at the corner of your mouth. He smiles your smile. He speaks in your voice. Soft, so soft it kills him.

“You’re welcome, Yuji.”

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youlikefanficdontyousquidward · 1 year ago

Text

Curious

Human!reader x Recom!Lyle

Summary: Lyle doesn't like his new body much, until reader and him discover something interesting.

Recomweek Day 6: Tsaheylu

There was a lot to hate about coming back in this body. Lyle found the strength and speed fun and was happy it made him a better soldier. It was the little everyday things that grated on his nerves. Like navigating rooms that were just not built for his size or the food. Lab coats had swiped anything appealing from him, demanding he follow the strict Na'vi diet. Yeah because that's what every man wants after a hard day, grubs and...was that bark?

He poked at his plate, shifting the odd coloured food around. Most of the others seemed to be working their way through the meal. Though most still pulled faces or swallowed items whole to avoid the texture.

"Lighten up bud!" Fike smiled and jabbed him in the ribs. Lyle grunted, knocking his shoulder. He couldn't even he angry in peace. Every twitch of his ears or flick of tail sang his feelings to the world. There was no hiding how he felt at any given moment.

A light hand settled on his shoulder, giving a tight squeeze before you draped your body against his back. Lyle felt his tell tail purr rising in his chest and fought to suppress it. He'd purr to his hearts content in private with you but the sound embarrassed him in front of his team mates.

"Hey babe." He grinned as your head shifted over his shoulder. You pecked his cheek before heading back to work. Lyle supposed the one upside to being so readable was you. He'd not have had the courage to ask you out himself, not while he was still adjusting anyway. You'd been familiar with avatars and even some natives though. On your first date you'd told him how you'd caught his body language and it'd given you the push to go for it.

Still he'd been the first lean in for a kiss, to open your relationship to a more physical space. He could keep his pride at that. He found you later that evening, tugging you against him.

You shared lazy kisses in his bed. He didn't think either of you wanted to go much further tonight, both being already so tiered. Still it was enough just to be close. He had lain with his back against the wall, his knees raised so you could sit against his thighs. Your legs supporting your weight by pressing against backboard. It left you spread wide as each foot was on either side of his broad chest.

Part of him still preened over your height difference. It felt good to be so much bigger, stronger. Being able to scoop you up like you weighed nothing at all or caging you between his arms under him. His cock twitched just thinking about it.

Lyle leaned forward intent of capturing your lips once more but was stopped by a painful tug. He let out a hiss, tugging the braid forward. It'd been caught behind him and the sensitive core hadn't liked being pulled. He hated the appendage, he'd shaved his head for a reason before and now he was stuck with this 4 foot nuisance.

You cooed, running your fingers down the length of the braid. It hadn't been something you'd talked about but Lyle could tell it fascinated you. Beyond being something to tug or grasp when he was on top of you, it was something that intrigued your scientists mind.

However you seemed to be holding back from your interest. Perhaps it was a cultural thing for the Na'vi? Something Lyle hadn't considered relevant until now. Or considering how he reacted in bed when you touched it, maybe you thought it wasn't polite to go poking around.

Lyle gave you an easy smile, taking the braid gently from your hand. Before you could return focus to his face, he turned the end in his hand. The loose hair at the bottom fell away, revealing the searching nerves.

He kept in a laugh at your widening eyes, instead admiring the reflected glow in them. The nerves danced, swirling around in their exploration. Your hand twitched, rising a centimeter before stilling again. Lyle met you questioning gaze and answered by passing you the braid.

Your grip was loose and gentle. Lyle felt his breath hitch at the contact. Your fingers rising again to the scouting tendrils. He felt stripped bare, every sense alive and focused on you. He understood your hesitation now. Had this been anyone but you it'd have felt a violation. Instead he felt whole, an overwhelming sense of completeness as he stared down at your fingers.

Just a couple more millimeters and you'd make contact. Your eyes flicked up again to his, asking for the final permission. Lyle's eyes dragged away from your hands, meeting your own. He couldn't see what you did. The way his pupils were blown, his slack face with an expression teetering on trepidation.

Still Lyle nodded and you let a finger tip brush the light hair like receptors on a tendril. It jumped, flicking back before probing forward. The bundle reached out as a whole now and wrapping around, across your palm and in between each finger.

It was a strange sensation. You'd liken it to the sting of a nettle, except where it burned through your nerves these soothed. Your skin felt warm and buzzing in the areas around each nerves grip. Your eyes moved from the strange sight back to Lyle.

At first you registered the expression as pain but in the same moment realized it wasn't. It was the same expression he'd made when his own bliss tipped over the edge and euphoria washed through him. A low growl escaped his lips.

Lyle couldn't find words to describe how it felt. Every cell of his being alive and aware and dragging him into you, through you. All at once he felt himself affixed to you. If he'd allowed himself to believe in a soul he'd have said his had been tethered to yours. No it was stronger than that, you'd been welded together. Your everythings melted down and made to one whole.

You stayed like that, each moment passing intertwined together in an ancient rite. When Lyle's face relaxed and his eyes fluttered open, you moved to untangle your hand. His hand caught your wrist firmly, the other moving quickly to cup your face.

"No." He pushed out. He found his words caught in his throat, unable to fully express the instinctual drives puppeting him now. Though he couldn't articulate it he knew in his being that he had began something. That he needed to complete it. He needed to mate you.

You felt heat pool in your core. The tingling warmth spreading from your hand, running through your veins. You let out a needy whine as your hip twitched involuntarily. A desperation growing in your mind with each infinitely long second. Lyle wasn't close enough, you needed him closer, as close as he could get.

Lyle felt himself slip further and further. His mouth crashing against yours, all teeth and tongue. Gone was any hint of the exhaustion he'd felt before. You gripped his face with your free hand, letting out a keening whine when his mouth moved to your neck. Lyle tipped you back gently, resting you in the nest of blankets.

His senses flooded with the scent of you, the fresh waves of your arousal almost stung with their intensity. His hands were too slow to unbutton so he opted for shredding, tearing the layers that so wrongfully separated your skin from his. His own boxers where ripped off last, freeing his swelling cock, already unsheathed.

You tried to sit up, to reach and pull Lyle to you but his large hand pushed your chest back down. You mewled in despair, needing desperately to feel him again. Lyle's other hand stroked through your folds, so wet already from the lazy make-out or maybe some instinct to prepare you for him.

He couldn't wait, satisfied you were already prepared he plunged in. You screamed out, gripping the sheets as he rolled back and snapped back in. The rapture flooding your senses left you shaking already, your walls tightening and milking Lyle's strokes.

He lent down over you, pulling your back up so he could mouth against your chest. Swirling tongue around each nipple in turn, nuzzling into the flesh. His other hand kneading breast, hip, thigh before falling to your clit. You let out another wail, digging nails into his back, other hand twitching against the glowing tendrils.

Lyle could already feel himself reaching his summit, his hips stuttering and stokes becoming uneven. He pressed and circled your clit more, desperate to feel your release around him first. He tucked his head into the crook of your neck, sucking the flesh. Your moans were louder now, your own pleasure so intense your mouth hung open and a light drool leaked.

Lyle felt his fangs burn in his mouth, heat throbbing through them with a need he didn't understand. He grazed them against the flesh of your throat. Your hips bucked, your velvety falls pressing against his cock, milking his orgasm out of him. You screamed his name, wave after wave coursing through you as he rode it out. His cum painting your walls as he bit down on at the base of your neck.

You barely felt it passed the euphoria, your head spinning, vision starring. His tongue flattening and swiping up the trickles of blood. Lyle felt spent, pulling out from you and flopping weakly against your chest. The tendrils of his queue retracted, freeing your hand again. You felt almost faint, the intensity of your orgasm leaving you more exhausted than ever.

You flexed the hand, feeling a buzz through its numbness. It took a few more minutes before you became aware of the pain in your neck, the burning wound bringing reality back to you.

"Did you bite me?" You whispered, a nervous laugh tickling past your lips. Lyle's head snapped up, eyes zeroing in on the indents of his teeth. He felt a sudden wave of fear pass through him. He'd went too far, you'd be pissed and you'd leave and he couldn't have that. Still even though his queue was back behind him, he felt the same connection to you. He couldn't bare the severing of it, you couldn't leave you were his!

Your hand met his cheek, stroking it gently as your eyes fluttered shut. Lyle's heart settled, shifting himself up to curl around you. His throat still swallowed his words so he let his hands circle round you, tugging you against his chest, his tail wrapping around your thigh.

Mine.

#lyle wainfleet #lyle wainfleet x reader #recomweek #my fics #recoms #avatar imagine #Tsaheylu

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kerubimcrepin · 7 months ago

Text

Liveblog - Dofus, livre 1 : Julith [PART 21]

I've already said how weird this whole situation is from Joris's pov, but imagine dying, being given a new body with a way smaller brain and no speech yet, as well as no object permanence, and having to comprehend while in this condition, that your brother, who spent the last 50–80 years trying to hunt you down and make you into a coat, just saved your son from being blown up, and is now dying.

But you lack the brain capacity to understand any of that. Or remember any of that history.

You just know that he's hurt, badly, and that you don't like seeing him in pain.

Joris knows now, that for an ecaflip demigod, it's not that big of a deal to die. At least not the first time.

So it's really more of a "You sacrificed yourself for me?" question.

He's paying back his debt. He can't be mean to Joris, when all he's done is be nice to him, he's not that kind of person.

And when he wakes up again, things will be different, between him and Kerubim. Something new is going to happen.

To quote Dofus Aux Tresors de Kerubim: It will have a different taste. A different feel.

Kerubim's current lack of object permanence or the idea of death, is both a blessing and a curse, because he has no fucking idea what happened, or where Atcham went. Poor kbitty.

On one hand, this is inherently traumatic for Joris. He must be tired of watching ecaflip demigods evaporate.

On the other hand, I can't help but feel that this is the moment Joris and Atcham truly begin to love one another. So I can't even feel sad about this moment, like a normal person.

Chat, this is what I cal coping and perhaps even seething. Joris is inclined to think Bakara is wrong because Bakara fucked up Majorly at this part of the movie. Also because Joris has not slept the entire night. Also because he watched 2 people die. Also Simone is far away. Also what IS Simone to do with a dofus-related issue?

Julith would absolutely have hurt Lilotte. There is absolutely not a single doubt in my mind, that if it got her what she wanted, she would dismember Lilotte as Joris watched.

I don't blame him for making mistakes and fumbling, though. He's like 10.

If she really isn't that bad... If ALL she wants to do, is to bring Jahash back... If that's what it takes for her to leave Lilotte and Kerubim alone...

And among all else, if this brings the man she loves back? He doesn't mind, then.

(Puts on a giant, Dofus Aux Tresors de Kerubim themed tinfoil hat)

Joris is a difficult character to read due to his insane multitudes and affinity for lying to everyone and himself.

Due to his passion for wanting to learn about his birth parents, I think spending time with Julith and Jahash is like a dream to him.

But I can't miss the dimension in this interaction that Julith is a scary dark mage called "the butcher", who already killed his father once and then kidnapped his friend, and they are both standing near her, behind him, and she is holding what is essentially the magical equivalent of a nuclear bomb in her hands.

And the things he says to her may or may not be affected by like, idk, two or three of these factors? Like there might be a slight possibility that he said "I'm sure she wouldn't have hurt you" and "a real family" specifically to decrease the chances of her killing Kerubim and Lilotte. Not sure where I get this idea from, though.

This is literally the worst day in Kerubim's life as a father. There is literally no going back. Thank god his little kittybrain is going to forget all about this in roughly 3 minutes.

#ro liveblogs dofus #dofus #wakfu #krosmoz #dofusmovie #joris jurgen

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veroniquesboutique · 10 months ago

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Kinkuary Day 30 - Edgeplay / Edging

For Kinkuary day 30!

Daiki Aomine x AFAB!Reader

Content warnings: AFAB!reader, female reader, edging/edgeplay, mutual masturbation, pillow humping, voyeurism, exhibitionism, pet name (darling, baby, babe), he doesn't cum, edging the reader, softdom!Aomine kinda

18+ Minors DNI!

More under the cut

“You want me to do what?” You ask, nearly incredulous, as you place your shoes next to the door, your keys in the dish, and your big winter coat on the hook. Your boyfriend, Daiki Aomine, stares back at you from the kitchen with sandwich in hand.

"I said I want to watch you masturbate,” He says around another bite of sandwich, like it’s as easy as asking how your day was or what you wanted to watch on TV this evening.

“Well, the first way you said it was way more horny,” You suck your teeth and flutter into your shared apartment and start flipping through the mail sitting on the counter across from him, “Also, I just walked in the door. Whatever happened to hi? Maybe a hello? And as for your request, no absolutely not. Denied.” You don’t even spare him a side glance.

“Why?” He licks a drip of oil off the back of his hand, refusing to take his eyes off of your face, studying the blush that is creeping into your skin.

“Because that’s embarrassing,” You scoff, squinting at the return address on one of the envelopes.

“I heard you last night when I came home late.”

Now you look up at him, meeting his challenging gaze, and your blush just gets worse. “Why didn’t you come in then?”

“You sounded like you were enjoying being alone,” He mutters in a playful tone, his eyebrows climbing his forehead and his eyes finally breaking away from yours.

“I would’ve had more fun with you.”

“I want to see what you do in your natural habitat. Maybe I’ll pick up a few pointers or something,” He’s changed his tactic, seemingly mostly uninterested as he starts to wash his plate in the sink.

“Well, unfortunately for you, you can’t because-” You cut yourself off as it dawns on you that you’re not sure you want to share this information with him. It’s way too embarrassing to admit to him out loud; he teases you over such small things already, so why give him any more ammunition? You try to shrug at him, but now you can feel his eyes burning a hole into the side of your head. You’ve given him a taste of interesting information, and now he won’t leave you alone until you tell him what you were going to say.

He hates secrets.

“Darling, what was that?” He asks, trying to add a sweetness to his tone, but it feels fake, an aspartame aftertaste in your throat as you steep in your embarrassment.

“Nothing. You just can’t. It’s not the same.”

“You were going to say something,” He says, coming out of the kitchen and approaching you slowly, his arms crossed across his chest as he studies your body, shrinking away from him.

“Just that. Nothing else.”

“Because why?” He leans into your space, now uncomfortably close and pushing you gently into the counter, an eyebrow quirked at you. He’s flustering you, and you feel the edge of the counter pushing into your back as you try to give yourself space to breathe, but soon both of his hands come down onto the counter, trapping you in his space. He smiles down at you.

“Just because,” You squeak, eyes wide, and you press your hand to his chest to try to give yourself space.

“Darling, please tell me,” His voice is low, and he knows just the switch to flip to melt you and fluster you and mix you up and overwhelm you and get you to tell him things.

“I exclusively use pillows, okay!” You admit, your body red and hot with embarrassment. He squints, trying to process your confession, before understanding melts his face into a teasing, intrigued smirk.

“Even better,” He says, his voice still low, before he closes the distance between you two, the kiss one of the softest he’s ever placed on your lips, and it tastes like convincing you to try something new.

So that’s how you find yourself standing in just your panties in the middle of your room, staring at Daiki sitting across from you on the long edge of the bed, leaning against the wall with his feet planted firmly on the mattress, still fully clothed, and a single pillow sitting between you two.

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gabessquishytum · 11 months ago

Note

Omega hob doesn’t want a mate, not again, not if he will just lose them. (And not if he can’t have his stranger.) so he makes the best of his heat by offering himself to people he trusts at his bar. It becomes his nest and it’s a lovely time. Some friends come just to cuddle platonically and enjoy pack bonding. Some come to fuck him hard and deep, the way he needs, some come just for the movies, popcorn and beer. And they’re all protective. So anyone who tries anything Hob doesn’t like is dealt with—one time someone almost bit his mating gland and had Hob’s entire found family snarling and throwing him out of the bar. In fact it’s become such a thing that other friends who have synced up their heats come to spend it there too where they know they’ll be safe and loved.

Dream comes back and to his surprise smells Hob ripe and wanting, on his back in the pub. He’s on his back, and between his legs, one of his friends is pounding into him, working them both into a sweat. Hob is mewling for more, glowing with happiness, cuddled up against the chest of his head chef, while one of his friends lays on his stomach and plays with his nipples idly. Around them his entire found pack is cuddling or eating or fucking or chatting while they all watch The Princess Bride.

Everyone stares at Dream, hackles up because who is this stranger?? Eyes closed, Hob takes one inhale, gasps out “Morpheus—“ and comes on the spot.

HHHNNNNGGG THE NEW INN AS HOB’S NEST HAS GIVEN ME SO MANY THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS. might have to incorporate this into a fic at some point because I love it. So much.

And the idea of free use/free to love Hob is always going to capture me. I adore the idea that he has multiple alphas who want to help and take responsibility for his heat. Its not a romantic thing, it's more of a platonic family kind of thing. The sexual relief is wonderful, and knowing that a safe person is helping him through a vulnerable moment means that Hob can go deeper into his heats than his instincts have allowed for a very long time. He's happy, hes wanted, and he's also taking care of all the other members of the pack whenever they need anything. His omega instincts are so satisfied, he's even started to look more like an omega. A little softer, a little more omegaish in his body language.

When Dream comes into the New Inn, into Hob’s nest, it feels like the place has popped right out of the dreaming. It just feels so much like home, so familiar, like the space is opening up and welcoming him. It wants him there - Hob wants him there. He's looking up at Dream with his head resting on the bar, his eyes a little glassy, and he's slurring "You're late" and reaching out his hands. Dream can't help but hold him. The alpha who had been busy pleasuring him doesn't growl, neither do the others who were holding Hob and caressing him. They just make room in the cuddle pile. They nuzzle against Dream and soon he's coated in the scent of Hob, his nest, his little found family. He doesn't even feel jealous. He just feels privileged to be able to share in the moment.

When Hob starts getting antsy again, his friends indicate that it's Dream’s turn to help out. They help to get Hob on all fours, kissing and stroking him the whole time, and Dream is the one who slides his cock inside the beloved omega and begins to fuck him. The rest of the group settle back down to whatever they were up to before. And Dream gets to luxuriate in the sound of Hob mewling happily on his cock. When he's safely knotted again, Hob even falls asleep in Dream’s arms! It's like he's walked into paradise.

A thousand new dreams are born out of what Dream experiences at the New Inn. Comfort, joy, family. Dream is reminded that those things do exist. Because Hob wants him to come back! Dream’s got a standing invitation from Hob and the rest of the pack (they can all see that the wet cat man needs some TLC).

Maybe Hob can have a mate and a pack. Who says an omega can't have a harem, anyway?

#the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw omegaverse #cw free use

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black-rabbit-razumikhin · 2 months ago

Text

Raz Reads Les Mis (XXXVI)

Saint Deins - The Greandeurs of Despair

I simply don't like this chapter

People who matter are dying now and I'd prefer if they stopped doing that

Bahorel? Gone. Mabeuf? Poof. Prouvaire? Nowhere. Eponine? Barely a mound in the dirt.

The chapter starts with needing to replace the flag on top of the barricade

Also Gavroche is still allowed weapons, I don't know how sound of an idea this is

Enjolras yells for a volunteer to replace the flag (buddy, you are holding it) and is met with crickets

Crickets alleviated by the staggering step of Mabeuf

He takes the flag from Enjolras, and, step after slow step, climbs up the barricade

He yells for France, he yells for revolution, he yells for freedom, he yells for death

At the hands of the Guard, death is exactly what he is met with

Enjolras takes off his bullet-shredded coat, covers Mabeuf with a black shawl, and uses his coat for the new flag of the barricade

For all Enjolras's faults, he really knows how to get a crowd to follow him

A skirmish breaks out around Javert, people trying to release him and the attempts being thwarted

Not without the passing of Bahorel

Courfeyrac and Gavroche look like they're toast on the wrong end of a Guard's musket barrel

Two shots are fired

Two bodies drop

Marius, with the pistols given to him by Javert, has entered at the perfect moment

I need to start ranking Incredible Character Appearances in this book

Marius saves Gavroche and Courfeyrac

In return, the hand of an unknown ally takes a shot meant for Marius

Marius, still alive, threatens to blow up the barricade

The Guard, being smart about things, make haste before the attempts is made

But in all the commotion, Prouvaire has been taken

Enjolras turns to Javert, saying the only reason he is alive is to be traded for Prouvaire's return

But before this can take place, Prouvaire is killed by the Guard

Enjolras to Javert: "Your friends have just shot you."

The pain! The drama!

And now Marius, on making his way to a smaller barricade, finds Eponine

Eponine deserves her flowers

Not only is she the one who has done everything to aid in Marius and Cosette in being together, it is her hand that suffered the bullet wound meant for him

And all she asks is for Marius to kiss her forehead when she dies

She's given him a letter from Cosette to say that she's leaving

She doesn't hate Marius! She doesn't want him dead!

Obviously, but this is a shock to our favourite emo lawyer

After reading the note, he writes his own

The long and the short of which is delivery instructions for his corpse

Stop foreshadowing, too many people have died already. No more

Marius asks Gavroche to go back to the barricade and take the note to the specified address the next day

Unbeknownst to Marius, Gavroche thinks this logic is dumb and proceeds to take it to the said address immediately

No. Just no. I want action without consequence or I want gut-wrenching emotion where people live to see the light at the end of it all. I think the revolution is costing too much and everyone should throw in the towel immediately and quit while they're ahead.

#raz reads les mis #les mis #les miz #les miserables #les mis book #victor hugo #french literature #classic literature #literature #books #reading #books and reading #The Brick

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fxchild · 1 year ago

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The Switch

Miles Fairchild x fem!reader

Chapter seven: So now you're back?

A note from Fxchild ! Hi hi so ya I am not dead ! My phone lit broke and I totes forgot my email for this acc but now I'm back and my writers block has never gone away so quickly ! I'm so excited for new chapters to b out soon ! In the meantime while you r waiting for chapters, if you have one shot ideas for characters Finn Wolfhard plays I would b more than happy to write those so you guys aren't waiting forever for a new chapter ! So...finally heres the well awaited chapter seven ! I hope you enjoy this <3

It's the first day of May. It's also been three months since Miles left again. I keep telling Flora that he'll be back soon but I feel my heart break every time I lie to her. I don't think he will be back until I leave for the summer and then he'll leave again when I come back. I feel so guilty..Flora doesn't have a brother that lives with her because of me. But was it all really my fault? He treats me like shit and expects me to tolerate it. Never mind. I don't give a flying fuck about him anymore. He can do whatever he wants, if something happens to him, oh boo hoo not my problem.

It was finally Friday which means I have tomorrow off and I only have to teach Flora a little today because the weather was perfect for horseback riding and I'd promise to let her out today. Today I wore a dark red top with dark grey jeans with black high top shoes. I put my hair in a half up half down clip and did minimal makeup because I was planning on recording myself for an upcoming interview I have for a summer job.

Today I planned out a written test to see Flora's knowledge on geography. I would give her a half an hour to finish up on review and two hours for the test. The test was fairly easy so it shouldn't take her more than an hour or so.

"And begin." I smiled at Flora, setting my timer on my desk which is right across from hers. She immediately begins to read and write down answers while I look over her past work to grade.

Around 45 minutes into the session we hear the front door open. Flora pays no attention to it, I assume it's Ms. Grose coming in from cutting grass or buying groceries so I ignore it and go back to reading old assignments. Around a few minutes went by when I heard footsteps coming to the room. Expecting Ms. Grose I take my feet off the desk and fix my posture without looking at the door. I pretend to be in deep thought with grading when I hear someone clear their throat and hear Flora shout,

"Miles!" She screeches and jumps from her seat running over to hug him. I immediately turn my whole body in my chair with wide eyes. His hair slightly longer and he looks a little taller. He still has the same smirk and dead eyes I saw the night he left. He had on a black coat that ran down to his knees and two bags in his hands that he must have taken when he left. He engulfs Flora into a hug and smiles down at her. I've never seen that smile before. Unlike the ones he had given me this one was warm and loving. I think I had given him that smile before but I wasn't sure. Finally after what seemed like an eternity, he looked up at me and smiled. It was genuine, his eyes brightened. I knew it was real because it wasn't that same old smirk he put on with confidence, he looked painfully awkward and his eyes kept darting between me and the wooden floor. I didn't smile back. I rose up from my seat and walked over to him.

"Flora, why don't you take Miles bags and put them in his room for him sweetheart?" I smiled down at her while patting her hair. She gladly accepts and runs off with his bags. Miles smiles at me again nodding opening his mouth to speak but I cut him off.

"How you been Miles? Where'd you go this time huh? Was it fun?" I say with a sarcastic fake smile, he could tell I was mad.

"Well I-" He begins as I slap his face.

"You scared the shit out of me! Do you know how upset Flora was? She cried for almost a week, blaming herself, poor girl!" I say gritting my teeth with my eyes starting to tear up slightly.

He stared at me with pursed lips before sighing and answering. "He told me to."

I scoff and look at him dumbfounded. "He? Wh-who the hell is 'he' Miles huh? What are you schizo?" I roll my eyes annoyed

"Nobody-nothing. I just..had a dream that's all." He shakes his head staring down at the floor with shame.

"Whatever Miles." I roll my eyes and walk over to Flora's desk to pick up her finished test. "Better go find Flora. Told her she could get out of class early to go ride the horses." I say looking through her test without looking up at Miles.

"You're not gonna come?" He asks quietly, nodding his head to the side, scratching the back of his neck.

I chuckle quietly before placing the test back on the desk. "After the last time?" I walk over to him, picking a pine needle off his jacket. "No thanks." I fake smile before walking out of the room to my own. When I reach my room I fall flat onto my bed before letting out a loud sigh into my pillow. A few minutes later I look out the window. I see Flora and Miles running to the stables and shouting happily. I turn to look at my Calendar, 30 days until I leave. I got sick of sitting in my room bored and decided to go do something, anything in his boring place.

I walk into the kitchen hoping there's an apple or some food sitting out but instead of being greeted with food, it's an unbearable Ms. Grose. I smile at her but she crosses her arms and frowns at me.

"Why are you being so unpleasant towards Miles?" She grits her teeth. "What are you talking about?" I ask trying to pretend I have no clue what's going on. "Talking to him in such an arrogant tone, not accepting his offer and you still wonder why he left? You should be shamed." She spits at me coldly. My face dropped as I start to feel tears in the corners of my eyes.

I quickly ran back up to my room and slam the door. Tears start to stream down my face as I grab my backpack and start shoving stuff into my bag. By the time I zipped it up I hear the front door open again. I quickly put my shoes back on and started heading down the stairs. Walking towards the door I'm wiping my tears, Miles blocks my path.

"Woah woah! Where are you going?" He asks with a concerned look on his face, his hands falling to my shoulders. "Out." I reply while sniffling trying to push past him.

"Um okay, when are you coming back?" He lets go of me, now following me out the door. "I don't know..like..tomorrow? Sunday maybe?" I continue to walk away from him to my car. "Tell me where in case you get black out drunk again and need me to pick you up." He scoffs grabbing onto my wrist.

"You know what Miles? You won't have to worry about me anymore! I won't bother you. It's clear I make you want to leave and you hate me so I'll just leave you alone okay?! Is that what you wa-"

He cuts me off by pressing his lips against mine. It was soft and quick, like he was trying to shut me up and this was the first thing he thought of. He lets go of my wrist and stands up straight looking at me sternly. My cheeks are burning red as I attempt to say something but I can't seem to speak, like there's no air in my lungs.

I lean up against my car door for a moment staring at my feet trying to decide whether to leave or not. I finally look up at him, his head in staring at my feet too. His hands are in his pockets and he's biting his bottom lip nervously. I smile up at him.

"Hey..I'll be back in a little while. I promise I won't make you pick me up this time. Want me to grab you something?" I softly smile, hoping he won't hate me. He shakes his head no with a small smile on his face before letting me get into his car. He watches me drive off before heading back inside.

'29 days..' I whisper to myself as I head into the nearest town, smiling to myself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was extremely rushed so my apologies if it wasn't as great as one of my last chapters ! I promise the next chapter will b better and have more of a plot than this one. Hope you guys liked this and r excited for the next chapter!

#fanfic #miles fairchild #miles fairchild x reader #the turning #finn wolfhard #the switch #miles fairchild smut #stranger things #mike wheeler #ziggy katz #richie tozier #trevor spengler #boris pavlikovsky #fxchild

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queeniecook · 2 months ago

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January 27

Seven months. It had been over seven months since Count Vladislaus Straud had gotten a chance to be in the same space as Lilith Vatore. She had been crafty. He had been watching. She had been keeping to her home or leaving town completely to go who knows where. But tonight. Tonight she had ventured out into the snow covered land of Forgotten Hollow and the Count seized his opportunity. He couldn't decide what he wanted to do the most - kiss her or wring her neck.

So many things he wanted to say, not all of them good - but instead he just stared at her as she stared at him. Lilith had a feeling he'd follow her when she left her house that night. She knew Vlad had been watching and waiting to get her alone.

"You know, I didn't come out here for company. I wanted some time to myself." Lilith says rudely to the vampire next to her. Ever since she had walked in on what looked like to be a moment between Jackson and Olivia, she had kept her offspring close. Very close. She knew she had gotten more than overly possessive with Jackson but she couldn't seem to help herself. She made him into a vampire and therefor it feels like he belongs to her. The whole thing had given her new thoughts about Count Straud. Is that why he gravitates to her and she to him? Is it all just the bond between maker and offspring? Or is there more to it?

The Count didn't rise to her bait to bicker, he just simply kept staring at Lilith. It was almost like he had to convince himself she's real. Lilith let's out an annoyed huff and turns to leave. Vladislaus seems to be a step ahead of her and catches her before she can leave.

Lilith can't seem to find her will to fight him. Something about him touching her again feels natural and her body has missed it. Her hand seems to act on its own accord and begins caressing him in return.

"You miss me." Vladislaus whispers into her ear as he moves his hand from her chest to begin to remove her coat. Lilith says nothing but seems to be joining him in his thought process. Her gloved hand starts grasping at the buttons on his coat, despite not being able to see what she's doing.

A ringtone breaks through the silent winter air. The two vampires break apart faster than the human eye can track. Lilith is gone in an instant and the Count is angrily hunting down the source of the ringtone.

"I suggest you forget what you saw or I'll make sure you never see anything ever again!" Count Straud threatens the woman. He's seen her twice. Once when she went into the Vatore Estate to visit Jackson. The other time she was taking pictures around Forgotten Hollow. Normally he'd just kill her but clearly she knows Jackson, which could cause problems if she ends up drained of blood laying in the snow or mysteriously vanishes.

Olivia is scared. It's obvious to her that the man is a vampire, she had seen enough between him and Lilith to know it's true. She hadn't meant to spy on them at all, she had come to town to take a few more photos. She wasn't even planning to visit Jackson while she's in town, given what happened the last time. But no, she had to come across Lilith locked in some kind of embrace with another male. Part of her wanted to run and tell Jackson what his precious Lilith has been up to but she'd rather live. "I didn't mean to see....that."

The Count lets out an undignified snort. He doesn't care if she meant to or not. The fact is she did see him with Lilith and what's worse, she ruined their moment. If she hadn't been around, he would have had his Lilith in the snow or taken her back to his bed or coffin.

"I won't say anything. I promise." Olivia promises, meaning it.

#the grant legacy #ts4 legacy #slight sim spice #ts4 #thesims4 #sims 4 #sims4 #generation 2 #lilith vatore #vladislaus straud #olivia kim lewis #forgotten hollow #lilith and vlad #ts4 story #sims4 story #sims4 storytelling #simsstories

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eluxcastar · 2 years ago

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Soft Dottore with his cold assistant 👀

── ୨୧：il dottore x reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: observation in snezhnaya is always a pain, and it's not out of character for you to underestimate how thick a coat you'll need while outside during the winter

୨୧﹑genre :: fluff

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, more soft dottore content, possibly ooc, I did not proofread a word of this but I noticed I wrote goat once instead of coat sorry if that happens again 😭

୨୧﹑words :: 1072

atp I don't think I can function without fluffy scenarios (send help) I wrote this while David Hobson was allowing Christmas to start with The Holy City (I don't even celebrate Christmas 💀) it's so late rn Merry Christmas Dottore nation ❤️

you hate these kinds of researching days, the dead middle of Snezhnayan winter when the Doctor decides there's an urgent sample he has to collect, something to study, today it's something he simply wants to observe - the functions of an automaton Sandrone had given him to play with. he certainly was fulfilling the 'fun' part of that equation, dragging you out at the break of dawn just to see how this machine works in snowy climates. in his own words, it is to go while the snow is still falling. the early morning hours would provide more time, he could be meticulous without the threat of time and the dastardly sun looming over his head threatening to melt all of his snow.

you expected to stay inside all day considering the cold, not even thinking to grab your good coat as you left home, and now you shiver under only the cover of a coat far too thin for the job. the sky is dark, no sun out to warm you even slightly. that's your only problem with the dark, finding it easy to navigate with Dottore only a few steps ahead of you brimming with confidence in where he's going. you should've known better than to think Dottore would be bothered by the cold. he isn't. he's pointing out things he can already picking up even when you weren't even at the spot he wants to test it.

you're not sure he can notice your shivering as you follow behind him. you wish you were with just about anyone else right about now, preferably one who wouldn't mind you standing close and cuddling up under their hopefully warm coat so that you could warm yourself right up with their body heat.

the Doctor would never allow such silly things, more importantly he'd scold you for your carelessness.

so you carry on until you reach the clearing, no less cold as when you first set out, though you have become somewhat numb to it. it doesn't help you at all. you sit down in a clear spot of snow while he sets his new toy down a small way away. he's fiddling away with that while you're fiddling with your coat, trying to find a way to cover all the cold spots where the air is making your skin prick with goosebumps. it's an impossible task.

your focus shifts at the sound of footsteps, the rustling of fabric coming from the same direction Dottore was in. you look up, thinking the Doctor must be coming to join you only to see him removing his coat. it takes you a moment to process the why and in that moment he's stopped right in front of you, coat bunched in his hands.

"Doctor--"

"You always forget to bring a proper coat." he places his coat over your shoulders, wrapping you quite snugly in it in fact, though you refrain from telling him that as you pull it taut around you in hopes of perhaps gleaning some extra warmth from it. it smells like him. it's like the warm hug you know you will never receive from him.

"Won't you be cold, Doctor?"

"You are on the verge of freezing to death. I'm surprised your teeth don't chatter." he says, a somewhat firm statement that shuts you up by pure accuracy as you didn't expect him to have noticed when you were tucked away just behind him the whole time. "For an assistant working toward the pursuit of knowledge, it makes me wonder how you don't ever learn."

there's a sense of embarrassment that settles in you as silence overwhelms the conversation, finding nothing that you could say in response that would disprove any of that-- inadvertently, you suppose that simply proves what he says. you don't learn. you bury your face in the fur lining of the collar. you recognise this coat as the one he wears to Harbinger meetings, as well as while he's out during the winters. it's quite a thick coat, you realise, perhaps explaining why he would take it out to what was only a field trip by comparison to your usual work.

you feel awkward as he takes a seat by your side, feeling cold in his place even when you're wrapped up in his coat and being practically insulated by it. his lack of covering is a lot more apparent now, sticking out like a sore thumb and it hits you that he likely knew the second he laid eyes on you in only a thin coat not made to withstand harsh winters that you were cold. it was obvious to you now.

as the minutes pass, you begin to realise you aren't staring at the automation like he instructed but at him, a wave of guilt overcoming you and you scoot closer to his side until you feel the warmth that radiates off of him as you part it to reach out for him.

"Doctor--"

"Are you still cold?" he remains unwavering in his focus on that machine, doing something you pay no mind to. whatever it is is mesmerising him, a state you've noticed happens most frequently when things work out, especially if they work out in a particularly interesting way. this looks like things are just working out though.

you shake your head, finding yourself easing back into the comfort his coat provides, "It's better," you add, "the wind isn't so bad."

you feel it again, the guilt that you felt taking his coat. it was the reason you had gotten closer at all. had he noticed that at all? you're hesitant to move again, wondering how-- if he would react if he was to catch you. knowing him he'd ignore it just to toy with you, even when he was watching you the whole time. he's distinctly mean in that way.

"Aren't you cold, Doctor?" you try to ask again, thinking he won't answer like last time. "We'll be out here for some time if it can keep that up." a brief glance to the automaton and you're not sure what exactly it's doing - likely the result of not looking at it for some time - but the way Dottore hums in agreement makes it sound as if he understands the sentiment. you make a good point it seems.

"We'll simply be forced to share it, since you didn't bring a coat of your own, silly little thing."

#✦ — scenarios.#✦ — fluff.#the sillies are so cute #dottore #il dottore #genshin dottore #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader

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13as07 · 9 months ago

Text

Object #4

(Pain/Nagato Uziumaki)

[Art work is not mine! Credit to morbidprince]

Requested by: Myself

Word Count: 3,800

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Don't worry, this part isn't mental health check level smut. It's just a fluffy soft Pain fic

Should I do a part five? With more Nagato fluff? Or maybe I’ll just make this a super long series and have fluffy parts with all the members to counter act all the smut. Idk I need opinions

———————————————————————

"Princess?" Nagato's voice calls out again, his feet making quick work to me. "Your back..." he mutters, fingertips running over the 'good as new' skin stretched over my spine.

"Ya, Itachi fixed it. I don't know how though," I fill in the blanks, tilting my head back.

The dry orange-haired man is distressed, face scrunched up as his eyes scroll over my body. "It seems your back isn't the only thing he fixed," he mutters, head dipping down. He hesitates for a moment before resting his chin on my shoulder. "I wish to hear about your day."

"Do you?"

Pain is silent for a beat before he answers. "No," he mutters, head tilting so his nose is resting against my neck. The metal of his nose piercings press gently into my skin, coating my neck in a gentle chilliness. "Have you decided where you wish to go tomorrow?"

"Kind of," I murmur, leaning backward so my back is pressed against Nagato's chest. "How long are we going to be gone?"

"However long you wish."

"Two weeks... not counting travel time?" I ask softly, worried I'm being too greedy and that it'll cause Pain's switch to flip. I know he'd never hurt me... unsexually, at least. That doesn't mean I enjoy his coldness though. Or how quickly his attitude towards me changes.

Nagato stays quiet, his breathing puffy his chest out and gently swaying me. "As you wish. We might have to... adjust our plans though." That's code for 'Pain is going to do work' on our vacation. Whether it's information collection, kidnapping, or killing somebody is beyond me, and I don't wish for it to no longer be beyond me.

"Alright," I mumble, tilting my head to rest it against his. "I want to see that waterfall you took me to a few months ago. The one with the two statues."

"The Valley of the End?" Nagato asks, a sigh escaping him with the question.

"I don't know. We don't have to go there," I whisper the last part, worries of Pain's bipolarness filling my mind. "I can pick somewhere else."

"It is alright. I have business in the Hidden Lead and something to handle in the Hidden Sound so it is quite perfect." The explanation comes out as a grumble, making me question whether Nagato is telling the truth or is simply trying to calm my nerves.

"Alright."

"I will give you three weeks, travel not included, aside from my business," he mutters against my skin, brushing kisses to my throat. His mouth piercings snag like the ones on his nose. Unlike this morning, Pain is careful as he moves across my skin, careful not to nick me again.

"Naga?"

"Princess?"

"Are you Pain or Nagato... Or Yahiko?" My heart races with the question, worried that Pain's good mood won't stretch any further today if it'll even stretch this far.

He falls quiet, sucking a bit of my skin into his mouth. His focus stays there, bruising my skin some more as he stays silent. "It is complicated. Would you like an explanation?"

"I don't know."

Silence envelopes us again, Pain's mouth focused on marking a part of my shoulder this time. "Pain is an alias, Nagato is my consciousness, Yahiko is my body," he mutters against me, kissing the new bruise.

"That doesn't make any sense."

"I know, Princess. All you need to know is that I am Nagato." The explanation still doesn't make any sense, even in the dumbed-down state it was given to me. "Nagato is who cares for you." The sentence comes out soft, the usual harshness not present.

"Does Nagato love me?" I ask, snapping my eyes closed and holding my breath once the sentence is out.

His movements stale, lips still pressed against me. "Why do you ask?" My breath comes out rough, almost painful as I exhale. I shrug my shoulders, deciding I no longer want to have this conversation. "I care for you in ways you need and want. I protect you from the cruelty of the world. I have removed worries, destruction, and torments from your life. You are one of my reminders."

"One of your reminders for what?"

"For why the akatsuki exists," he mutters, lips back in motion. Pain works his way around my back, the gentle pressure and pokes of his piercings chasing his lips.

"Does it bother you that the other members... enjoy me?"

"Not particularly. I cannot be around in those ways all the time. If you enjoy yourself it does not bother me."

"Is that why Hidan is hanging in a tree?"

Nagato hums a yes, lips trailing back up my other shoulder. "Hidan hurt you in an unenjoyable way, so he shall know pain. You cannot enjoy yourself if you are slowly bleeding to death and slipping into unconsciousness."

"Naga?" He hums a yes again, head lifting before resting on my shoulder again. "I'm hungry."

"Then we shall go eat. Afterward, we can go down for the night. We'll need to pack and leave early if we wish to make a fast pace." His arms wrap around my waist, lifting me off the bed before settling me on my feet.

Pain is back to business, hand wrapped up in my chain to lead me behind him. I can already feel the coldness filtering from him, our soft moment to be left in the med-bay.

———————————

My eyes trail over Nagato, watching him carefully clean his piercings and poles. His fingers are nimble, tugging out another pole from his arm. My sight trails over his fingers, watching him dip the towel into the water mix before he scrubs at the metal.

"Why do you do that?" I ask, crawling out of our bed to head toward him.

"Why do I do what?" Pain asks, his eyes flickering up to catch my sight through the mirror.

I settle my hands on his shoulders, toying with the poles poking out. "You clean your pole things every night. The same routine. One at a time. Why?"

Nagato's focus shifts back down to the metal, scrubbing at it again before sticking it back into himself. "Well, I clean them so they don't get infected. I clean them one at a time because without them I can no longer control this body."

"That is confusing," I mutter, fingers wrapping around one of the poles. I tug on it, raising it a bit. The sound of it moving sends shivers down my spine, in a not-nice way. "They make a weird sound," I add, shifting it back into place.

"It is the sound of my blood shifting around the metal," Pain explains, mimicking my actions to clean a new pole. "My piercings do not do that, but the poles across my body do. Have you packed?"

"No," I whisper, toying with the bar through his left ear. I shift it sound, twirling it in a circle. "I don't know what to pack."

"For the Leaf Village, it is usually hot and rains most nights but doesn't get chilly. The Sound Village is usually gloomy and rainy, so it's cold most of the time."

"So, a mix of everything?"

"I will pack your bag," Nagato sighs, eyes flickering up to look at me before he goes back to the project at hand. "You will forget something anyway."

"Alright," I hum out, shifting my focus away from our conversation.

I litter his neck with kisses, working my way down and across his shoulders as Pain works away. My nose occasionally bumps into one of his poles, getting me a disapproving grunt.

When his grunts occur more often, I stop covering him in kisses. Instead, I mess with his necklace, running my fingertips over the chain links and toying with the spikes of it. "Naga?"

"Princess?" He groans, tilting his head back. My eyes trail over his, rolling over the purple swirls. "What is it that you want?"

"I don't know," I mutter, clinging to his chain as I coat his cheeks with my lips. "I just missed you today."

"Do not say that," he husks out, head tilting back upright. "It is displeasing when you say things like that. What is it that you want? I cannot fulfill your expectations if I don't know them."

"I don't know," I repeat in a whisper, resting my chin on the top of my head. "I just want your attention."

"You have my attention," Nagato mutters, chest puffing out before slowly falling back down in another exhausted exhale. "I do not know how to fill your request, Princess."

"Not all your attention," I grumble, eyes jumping around the mirror to take in Pain's figure. He's a pretty sight to look at, even if it's not his body... or maybe it is? I'm still confused about his explanation earlier.

"You are chatty today. What has changed?"

"What do you mean?"

"I have had you for a year or so now. You have never been this curious about me. What has made you so curious?"

"I spent some time with Konan today," I answer shortly, shifting my eyes away from the mirror. "I guess I just realized I don't know you like she does."

"Of course you don't. Konan has known me longer, she will know more about me."

"Really? No way," I mutter under my breath, pulling back from the emotionally stunted man.

"Princess?" He calls, hand shooting back to grab hold of my arm. "I don't like repeating myself. I cannot fulfill your expectations if I don't know them. You need to voice your needs."

I shrug my shoulders, eyes flickering between the room and Pain's tilted back head. He's getting upset, eyebrows forwarded and jaw set as he looks at me. "Do you like Konan?" I ask softly, deciding to focus on our closet.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you love her?"

"Of course not. Do not be unintelligent," Nagato mutters, letting go of his hold on me. "Just because I wish her safety does not mean I love her. You are present here, not her, unintelligent Princess." He mumbles the last line, his words almost lost under his breath.

"Naga?"

"What is it that you need now?" He huffs, his patience running thin.

"I like you," I whisper, eyes shifting back to the mirror to take in his reaction.

"Do not say that either. It's displeasing."

———————————

"Princess? Princess, you need to wake up," Nagato groans, hand cupping my arm as he shakes me. "It's time to be awake. Be awake."

"I am awake," I mutter, shifting to my side. My body bumps into him, encouraging me to cuddle into him and slip back off to sleep.

"We are awake," he repeats, arms wrapping around me before I'm lifted. "We have to get going to make the most of daylight." Pain carries me out of bed, holding me bridal style as he shifts around the sheets.

"I am awake," I also repeat, wrapping my arms around Nagato's neck as he stands up. "It's too early."

"You, Princess, live a timeless life to eliminate any anxieties being cooped up could cause. You do not know if it is early or late. You do not know the day, the month, or the year. You live with no worries because I have eliminated all possibilities of them."

"Fine, I'm tired," I whine, burying my head into his neck. "I want more sleep."

Pain exhales through his nose before letting me tumble back down on our bed. "Go back to sleep while I pack. Then you while be awake for the day so we can go on your trip."

I curl up under the blankets, soaking in the only warmth available in the freezing room. My eyes are lazy, half asleep but not fully, as I watch Nagato walk circles around the room. He mutters to himself as he packs our bags. It's entertaining watching him dangle our clothing as he looks them over, checking to see if our outfits match enough for himself but not enough to be noticeable.

Once he's satisfied with his choice of outfits, Pain's attention shifts to the make-shift vanity. His movements are slow, moving our stuff around slowly and softly so it doesn't make as much noise as normal. "For wanting more sleep, you are not sleeping," he mutters, looking at my reflection in the mirror.

"I'm resting my body. It's pretty much the same thing," I mutter, burying my head under the blankets.

I stay like this, bubbled in the heat of our blankets and shifting around consciousness and unconsciousness. After what seems like forever in my hazy state, Nagato's hands slide under the bedsheets, pawing around for me. "Princess?" He calls, the sound of him and the sheets shifting fills the room before his head pops under the blanket as well. "Hello, Princess."

"Hello, Naga."

His face scrunches up, nose curling at the nickname today. "Do not call me that," Pain mutters, shifting forward to wrap me in his arms again. Like before, I'm lifted from the bed, but this time he takes the blanket with him. "I believe you are cold, not tired."

Nagato is not wrong, but he's not right. Despite the majority of my wounds being healed, my body still aches from everyone the day before. "Whatever you say, Pain," I mutter, wrapping myself - and the blanket - around him.

"Do not call me that either," he grumbles, settling me on the ground in front of our closet. Despite his tone, Nagato seems entranced by our closer again, shifting through our clothes in search of something.

"What should I call you then?" I ask, poking around my bag to get a look at the clothes he packed.

"Just... Nagato."

———————————

Pain's fingers dig into my thighs, clinging to my skin as he carries me across the lake. My eyes are set downward, watching as he walks on the water. "How do you do that?" I ask, nodding towards his feet.

Nagato stalls for a second, shifting me on his back before tipping his head towards me. "Chakra control. Would you like an explanation?"

"Yes, please."

His steps start again, hands back to clinging to me as he walks. "I control my chakra flow to my feet. My chakra then clings to myself along with the water molecules."

"So it's like a floating board between us and the water," I mutter, watching the ripples caused by Nagato's steps.

"Kind of," he mutters, stalling his steps again. "Would you like to see what it's like?"

"I don't have chakra, remember? That's why I'm not a big bad Akatsuki member," I tease, running my hands through his hair before shaking his head a bit.

"Chakra is our life force. If you are alive you have chakra," Nagato corrects, shifting me to rest against his torso with him pressed against my back instead of me pressed against his. "Besides, even if you had Shinobi level chakra, you would not be an Akatsuki member. Would you like to stand on the water or not?"

"Sure." Pain's hands flip from being under my legs to being under my arms. His movements are slow as he lowers me, just enough that the bottom of my sandals rests on the water's surface. "Nagato?"

"Princess?"

"What do you mean by 'I wouldn't be an Akatsuki member' anyway?"

My question is ignored as he carries the brunt of my weight, letting me take fake steps on the water as we continue forward. "Because I do not care if Deidara, or Kisame, or Itachi, or Kakuzu die..." The speech isn't finished, the 'but I care if you do' isn't spoken, but it still hangs in the air.

"What if I wanted to be a member," I push, mind set on getting the terrorist leader to voice his feelings for once.

I'm snatched up from my dangling position, pressed against his chest as Pain's fingers dip into my sides hard enough to promise new bruises. "I have worked very hard to give you a sheltered life and I am working even harder to not have to shelter your existence in this world. If you ever even think about the possibility of being a member again, I will cage you like the object you are to ensure that you are safe from the cruelty our lives have to offer."

Nagato's threat scares me a bit. It's a reminder that he's not some traveling businessman, and is a terrorist who has done terrible things, even if I don't know the details of those things.

"You show you care in weird ways," I comment, letting my legs go loose around his waist. The group leader looks at me with pursed lips and a tilted head but doesn't comment back. "I like you," I mutter, burying my head into his shoulder.

"I will drop you and let you drown."

"No, you won't."

"... no, I won't."

———————————

What I assume is as close to anxious as Pain can get waves off of him as the outskirts of a village falls into view. His hand clings to my necklace, keeping me less than a step apart from him. "So... this the Leaf Village?" I ask, knowing the answer is most likely no, mostly from the lack of trees and the overabundance of hills.

"No, it is not," Nagato mutters, tugging me closer. I'm buried in his frame, his chest bumping into my back as we walk and his hands ghostly pawing over my hips. "This is the Valley Village."

"The Valley Village?" He hums a yes, head on a spiral as we walk past the first line of buildings. "That sounds dumb."

"Yes, well that is its name. Shall we find food and then decide on somewhere to stay?" It's phrased as a question but toned as a statement, Nagato's mind set on ushering us behind the safety of walls before the sun - and the village's foot traffic - goes down. He's always insisted that there is safety in numbers, hence his unliking of us being out during the night when the amount of buzzing is at the daily low.

Pain's closeness somehow gets closer the further into the village we go. I'm pretty sure if there was a way to embed me in his skin, he would while we're away from the hideout. "What do you want to eat?" He whispers in my ear, keeping his eyes low as I'm ushered down the road.

"A plater of rainbow rolls sounds amazing right now," I answer, squirming in his hold. I like the few occasions Nagato clings to me, but I don't like the feeling of him pretty much shoving me down the street.

His hold loosens a bit, hold still firm but less bruise-threatening. "As you wish," he mutters, head picking up some to scan the buildings. "Perhaps let us find a place to stay first," Pain mutters, eyes locked on the Inn tucked in the corner a few feet away. "Then I will find you a platter of rainbow rolls."

"Good ones, not those convenience store ones. They always taste gross."

"I would never get you sushi from a store," he mutters, ushering me across the road. We make a beeline for the hotel, Pain scanning the street again before tucking me inside the building. "Be silent, be hidden," he whispers in my ear before tugging me towards the desk.

I do as I'm told, keeping my mouth screwed shut and tucking myself into his side. Nagato calls this 'hiding in plain sight'. It's a lecture I get every time we go somewhere. Don't do anything to stand out and you won't, so I don't.

My eyes trail around the entrance as Pain talks to the receptionist. My attention snags on the indoor pond, the marble tiles of it glistening because of the setting sun. In the water is a school of koi fish, their colors mimicking the sunset.

"Princess?" Nagato whispers in my ear, his arm wrapping around my waist to tug me further against him. I hum a yes, stopping myself from using his name; another lecture I get everytime we go out. The leader's name is 'seen as a curse among the common world' or whatever he says, so I can't use it in public. "I got us a room," he mutters, gently leading me forward again.

"A fancy room?" I ask, eyes tearing away from the pond to take in the hallway decorations.

"Yes, a fancy room," he grumbles, eyes scanning the wall plackets in search of our room. I'm tugged to a stop when he finds the right one, my body tucked between his frame and the frame of the doorway. "See? Fancy," He continues to groan, pushing the unlocked door open.

The room is fancy, at least as fancy as an outskirts Inn can be. The room is decorated in that fake gold stuff and vibrant whites. The sun melts through the big windows, coating the bed in the colors. The windows give a nice view of the mountain range, at least a section of it. The sharp edges of the stone are both beautiful and terrifying as my eyes scan over them.

"Is it displeasing to you? I can get us a different room," Nagato rambles, his usual business tone coating his words.

"It's not displeasing. I think the view is pretty," I answer, squirming from his engulfing frame to enter the room. I quickly slip out of my sandals before settling on the bed, facing towards the window with the intent to memorize the view. "I should have brought my camera or at least my sketchbook," I mutter regretfully, the idea of making the view permanent for myself out of reach.

"I brought your camera and I will grab you some paper while I'm out," Nagato sighs, securing the door before his attentions focus on our bags.

"You did?" I ask, attention shifting away from the view as a smile covers my face.

"Of course I did. I did not wish to listen to your whines about lack of photos," he answers, his patience starting to wear thin from the long travel and unforgiving sun we experienced throughout the day.

Maybe it's a good thing Nagato decided to eat in instead of going to a restaurant. I think him having a little break from me will help his patience rebuild.

"I like you," I repeat, my smile getting bigger as I turn back towards the window.

"I do not like repeating myself, Princess. I already told you to stop saying that. Say it again and I'll abandon you here."

"No, you won't."

"No, I won't," he mutters more to himself than me. "That does not make your statement any less displeasing."

———————————————————————

#naruto shippuden #naruto shippuden oneshot #naruto shippuden x reader #nagato oneshot #nagato uzumaki oneshot #nagato uzumaki x reader #nagato x reader #nagato uzumaki #pain x reader #pain oneshot #akatsuki oneshot #akatsuki x reader #akatsuki

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hypersonic04 · 1 year ago

Text

New Year's Day

hello everyone! I hope you all love this one as much as I do - it doesn't really align with the song and it's vibe, but i love it nonetheless and was smiling and kicking my feet the whole time i was writing this. i also just wanted to say thank you so, so much for all of the love and support you've all given me on not only these fics, but the teacher ross blurbs I've been writing in response to your asks! i truly am so grateful and you're all so lovely. thank you thank you thank you. enjoy new year's day!

word count: 2,225

November. Arguably the worst month of the year to end a twelve-month-long relationship. Well, twelve months, three weeks and five days. 31st December, also arguably the worst day of the year to be feeling particularly sad about said relationship.

Your boots trudge in the snow as you hold the shopping bag tightly. Your scarf is slipping from your neck, bag probably splitting from the ungodly amount of cheap wine it's holding, and there's a sheen of sweat on your forehead, despite it being -3 degrees in London. No wonder he left me, you think as you recall the evening.

13th November:

"So that's it?" He stands in the doorway, hands on his hips as he huffs. He's stood tall, the plush sweater hugging his body contradictory to the harsh frown on his face.

"Ross, it was you that said we needed some time apart!"

"Because you’re the one being distant, y/n!"

"Distant? I'm the one being distant? Ross, you've been away on a tour for over six months. I know you can't help it, but I really don't think that our ‘distance’ is because of me." You bite down on your bottom lip, eyebrows tilting downwards as you fight back tears. He runs a hand through his hair.

He's right. The distance in your relationship has definitely been as issue as of late, both physically and metaphorically. You'd been staying late at the office, he'd been across the other side of the world, and it's not exactly a recipe for success. You'd fall asleep right as he called, he'd be performing when you woke up.

He swallows heavily, dark eyes looking at you pleadingly, almost. An ache presents itself in your chest, breath caught in your throat as you anxiously play with the hem of your sweater.

"Is this really it, then?" You clench your jaw, tears threatening to spill.

"I..." His voice trails off, looking away and scratching his neck. You can see his glassy eyes, the way he pulls his lips into his mouth - you can read him like a book, a really heartbreaking, sad book. "Do you want this to be it?"

"Do you?"

He doesn't answer you, but instead picks his coat up from your sofa.

This can't be real. This is Ross. You were supposed to marry Ross, you were supposed to grow old together and do all of the things you used to dream about.

You don't chase after him as he walks down the hallway, you don't try and make him stay or beg him to take you back. The sound of the door closing behind him lingers in the empty flat, almost echoing off of the walls that seem to be so impossibly close. You feel the shell of your body take a seat on the sofa, a sob filling the void.

The weeks since then had been a cycle, and a toxic one at that: too much alcohol, too many nights crying to your friends, and definitely one too many times you nearly called him. You'd unfollowed him on everything, the sight of his smile and the dimples you'd so regularly peppered kisses to sending a wave of sickness, a wave of envy, through your body. You'd taken down the polaroids, hidden his hoodie somewhere you'd never think to look, plunged your head straight first into work and work only.

Only now, it's New Years Eve, and you're forced to face the reality of your situation.

A microwave meal for two is heated up, eaten by one, cross-legged on the sofa in a pair of pyjamas that could probably win a competition for 'World's Ugliest Nightwear' (a Christmas gift from an aunt). The flat is warm, lit by candles and fairy lights on every surface, a knitted blanket pooling around you. Glasses on, hair up, and who knew half a bottle of Echo Falls could fit into one glass?! The discoveries of a single woman in her 30s were truly groundbreaking.

If your loneliness wasn't apparent enough by the constant reminders of how fun and exciting your friends' lives were via social media, the BBC One New Year's Eve countdown did the job.

"So grab that special someone and get ready for the countdown! 30 minutes to go!" Some tacky presenter wearing a far-too-sparkly jacket grins down a microphone. You scoff, rolling your eyes at the cliche and taking a glug of wine.

Your eyes trail to the window, the gentle fall of snow making you reminiscent. You wonder what you were doing this time last year - at Ross' parents, playing a board game with his family, sat in between his legs whilst he played with your hair. The thought makes you inhale sharply, eyes stinging as you avert your gaze back to the TV. You wonder where he is right now, probably an A-List party with the rest of the band, surrounded by stick insect models wearing clothes worth more than your entire wardrobe. You bet they've never eaten M&S ready-meal lasagne. You wonder whether he'd squeeze their hand in the back of a taxi, whether he'd carry them up the stairs of their flat when their heels break. You dab your cheeks with the back of your hand, catching the tears trailing down your face and sniffling. Necking back the rest of your wine, you get up from the sofa to grab the bottle from the kitchen, slippers shuffling on the wood flooring. You catch a glimpse of your reflection in the window, and it reminds you of how you and Ross would dance together in this very spot, how only months ago he'd kissed you against this fridge, had spun you around, giggles filling the room like the most beautiful confetti you'd ever seen. You'd recognise that laugh anywhere.

"10 minutes to go!"

The first bars of All By Myself bleed from the speaker, a singer you don't recognise butchering it already.

"Oh, give over!" You complain at the TV. Of all songs they could’ve picked for New Years.

When you were little, you always thought you'd end up like Rachel from Friends, or maybe even Angelina Jolie. Bridget Jones was never on the cards, singing the singleton's anthem into a wine glass on New Year's Eve.

If it wasn't for the banging at the door, you're convinced you would have hit the high note. You frown to yourself as you pad down the hallway, passing the clock - it's 11:53pm on New Years, who could possibly be knocking on your door? You wonder whether you've accidentally called for a Chinese takeaway in your state of sadness, or a neighbour telling you to be quiet.

You gasp when you swing the door open.

His eyes are tired, and definitely drunk, creasing in the corners as he pulls his lips inwards, brow lowered slightly. His coat is sprinkled with glitter and fallen snow, like some kind of fairy dust against the black fabric, his hair ruffled like he's ran a hand through it a million times over. He's slightly out of breath, chest heaving up and down beneath his white button-up, tongue quickly swiping between his lips.

"Ross." You breathe out, eyes quickly moving over his face. His eyes are watery, nose slightly red, and you notice how he swallows heavily when you speak. "What're you doing here? I thought you'd be at a party or something, I-"

"I was," He inhales, a slightly bashful smile on hips lips as he furrows his brow, "but I didn't want to be there."

"You didn't want to be there?" You ask, suddenly feeling naive and hyper-aware of your appearance. You purse your lips, searching his face for an answer or context.

"No," he shakes his head firmly. "I wanted to be here, and I've messed up, and..." His voice trails off as he rubs his face, huffing. "I'm sorry, you probably have people over-"

"I don't. I don't have people over." You interrupt perhaps a bit too eagerly, watching as his eyebrows raise and his lips part slightly. "Is everything alright? If you need a taxi home, I can call you one, I know the numbers for some, I'll just write them down now..." You turn back into the hallway, rummaging around in a drawer of a cabinet for a taxi firm leaflet and a pen.

He watches you for a few seconds, looking away for a moment as he contemplates the mistake he's made. None of the models or singers or actresses at any party in the world could compare to you, his y/n. The corners of his mouth threaten to curve upwards as he notices the penguin print on your pyjamas, the way you nervously push your glasses up your nose, spotting the empty bottle of wine on your coffee table in the living room further down.

"y/n, no," he starts, making you glance at him with a concerned expression on your face. "I don't want a taxi."

"You don't?" You shake your head at him with a frown.

"I want you."

"Me?"

"Mhm." A soft, airy, perhaps a little drunken laugh escapes his lips at your questions, the way your voice goes up a pitch. You nod at him, contemplating what he's saying, wondering if you've actually just fallen into a lasagne-induced coma on the sofa and this is a dream, a manifestation of your pining. "Take me back, y/n."

You inhale sharply, watching as he swallows deeply and searches for your response, almost looking through your eyes, deep into your brain.

"The biggest mistake I made was ending things. I'm an idiot, y/n/n! I'm an idiot, and I do things and don't think them through," He rubs the back of his head, shaking his head with teary eyes, "and now I'm here on your doorstep asking you to take me back, because I'm not man enough to do it without a drink, and I don't think I could've gone on any longer without coming here, and-"

Your warm lips on his are what ends his rambling. He raises his eyebrows, the kiss taking him aback for a second, before melting into it completely. You hold onto the lapels of his jacket, his hands grasping onto the fabric of your pyjama top, running upwards gently as you stumble backwards a little.

"You're not an idiot." You pull away and say breathlessly, looking up at him shaking your head. "You do think things through." He smiles down at you softly as you speak, brushing stray curls from your face and resting a hand on each cheek. "Will you take me back?"

The kiss he presses to your lips answers your question, deep and passionate and so very needed. You push the door closed with your free hand, the other around his neck, eyes closed and inhaling his aftershave deeply. The faintest smell of cigarette smoke and champagne is mixed in, but it's like walking back into a golden memory, or your smelling your favourite perfume. He walks you both backwards into the living room, and in perfect timing, too.

"...2, 1, Happy New Year!"

Fireworks sound on the television, but you're not 100% sure whether they were just in your head. You pull away from him and hold his face in your hands, and he lets the weight of his head lean into your palm.

"Happy New Year, Ross." You smile through watery eyes.

"Happy New Year, y/n."

He presses a kiss to your lips again before taking your hands in his.

"Jesus Christ, your hands are freezing!" You hold them both between yours.

"I walked here, and I didn't have gloves, so..."

"You walked here?" You gasp, holding his hands to your mouth and pressing a kiss to them. "It's snowing!"

"I know, but I thought the walk from Bond Street wasn't as far-"

"Bond Street? That’s, like, 45 minutes away! You walked for 45 minutes?!” You laugh in shock, shaking your head at him, "You've lost your mind."

"I'd have walked the Earth if I thought we were going to be okay." He shakes his head softly, looking down at you. "I've thought about you every day."

"If you'd have called, I'd have picked up."

"You blocked me." He states matter-of-factly before trying to suppress a grin, "And unfollowed me, so-"

"It was a moment of madness, I just..." You scrunch your nose us and squeeze your eyes closed as you cringe, smiling a little, "I'm sorry." You rest your head in his chest, feeling him kiss the top of your head.

"I'm sorry, too. Really sorry." He huffs, "I'll never leave you again, I promise."

"Me neither," You tilt your head up at him, nodding as if to affirm your words, "Even when it's hard, and we make mistakes like this."

His arms around your waist the next morning are warm. You lift your head to look around the room, those god awful pyjamas strewn across the hall near the bathroom door, his shirt on the floor, your bra haphazardly hooked over the end of the bed - the two of you from the night before. You lay back down, turning your head to look at him - his lips are parted, slow, steady breaths leaving them. The bedroom is stone cold, the white sheets around both like a cocoon, but you've never felt warmer. You think about last night, a smile on your lips as you lay with your eyes shut.

#ross macdonald #the 1975 #1975 band #fanfic #matty healy #adam hann #george daniel #matty the 1975 #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross macdonald imagine #ross macdonald fanfic

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