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darklordofthesimp · 1 year ago

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Anything VII (König x Reader)

The 7th instalment in the Anything-Verse

Main Masterlist

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - 7 - Part 8

Like the characters? Read their fics below!

Sunshine Masterlist || Saint Masterlist

Series Summary: A lack of information from the chain of command results in König mistaking you for an enemy sniper.

A/N: I’ve already got the next chapter mapped out hee hee

Category: Angst || Hurt/Comfort || Unrequited Pining || Tension

Warning: Graphic Language

You’d barely slept, how could you?

Though you supposed that you should have been used to broken rest, this time it wasn’t for the usual reasons. There were no nightmares that clawed at your mind, no anger that made you sweat- but, there was paranoia.

There was crippling anxiety that had you wanting to hide beneath the covers, there was fear that gripped you by the throat. The sensation of being stunned was overwhelming, your thoughts were scattered and your world was tipped upside down.

Everything that you believed, everything that you had come to terms with, it was all a lie.

You risked a glance at the clock, groaning as you realised that you’d have to get up. It was a mission, more so than usual. Dragging your sorry ass from the safety of your sheets was proving difficult, but the knowledge that you’d have to go train with König made it all the more impossible.

You took a deep breath in as you pulled your top over your head. It was different now, the lines were blurred and König might not be the enemy that you imagined him to be. If there was anyone that was going to help you unravel this with the same urgency that you felt, it was going to be him.

He’d do anything to prove himself, anything to stay as a sniper.

He wanted to keep the life he’d stolen from you.

Your stomach turned at the thought, the words weren’t sitting as right as they used to. The anger that occupied your chest with relentless heat has begun to cool as of late. If König was truly misinformed, it would mean that he really was just trying to do his job.

It meant that he was paying the consequences for someone else's misdeeds.

It meant that he was also a victim.

A chill ran down your spine and the fire in your chest reignited. Maybe he was a victim, but he sure as fuck didn’t look like one- he didn’t look like you.

You groaned as you stepped through your broken doorway, the reminder of how unhinged König could truly be was unwelcome as always. You thought that the Austrian kicking the door down would terrify you, it told you that you were never safe no matter where you locked yourself up. Instead, the fact that he’d done it to ensure your safety confused you.

You mulled over it as you walked towards the gym, mindlessly stepping one foot in front of the other.

A couple of minutes spent trying to decipher how you felt towards König felt like hours, any small bead of energy expended suddenly blew out to exhaustion. The man was an enigma who left you stranded in your own thoughts, flailing to find land.

“Good morning, Birdy.”

You forced yourself not to flinch away from König’s voice as you stood deathly still in the doorway. The man offered you a small wave from inside the gym, his arm stretched over his head as he loosened his muscles.

You didn’t want to gawk at him, honestly. It was just kind of hard not to.

He was larger than life, something that would never fail to amaze you. The sheer size of him was one thing, but his presence took up the rest of the space in the room. The breath in your lungs dissipated into nothing as you took in his visage.

“Good morning, König,” you managed to say softly.

You both froze for a moment, the gentle return of his greeting had caught the pair of you off guard. You supposed that there had been a shift between the two of you over the past few weeks.

But the way you felt about the man before you gave you whiplash.

Torn between hatred, fear, familiarity and comfort, you wished you could just chalk him down to a psychotic beast that wished you harm.

But he wasn’t and he didn’t.

The path your mind had begun to wander reminded you of the revelation you’d come to.

König cleared his throat, slowly standing upright as if he didn’t want to shatter the fragile friendliness between you both. Finally, you stepped into the room, one heavy foot after the other and your heart in your throat. You wanted to break the silence between you before that unnamed tension could grow, feeding on the quiet and everything that went unsaid.

“What did you have planned today?” You questioned with a raised brow, “anything torturous and terrifying?”

The Austrian snorted softly through his nose, crossing his arms over his chest. The slight smirk that pulled his lips upward had your breath catching in your throat. He cast his eyes downward before flicking that jade gaze back up to meet yours.

“Isn’t everything I do “torturous” and “terrifying” according to you?” König said, the playful tone was obvious but tentative.

You took a deep breath. He wasn’t diminishing the incident, he was finding some semblance of humour between the both of you. You swallowed the small drops of rage that threatened to open the floodgates.

“No,” you said, pushing your hands into the pockets of your hoodie. “That’s just you, I meant the training this time.”

You watched the shift in König’s features, the way his shoulders relaxed and his eyes softened. The olive branch had been extended, received and the see-saw of emotions between you had finally tipped to fall on the opposite end.

“Well,” König offered a small smile, “I promise that the training today will not be as scary as I am.”

You tried to ignore the genuine relief that flooded through your chest, tried to maintain the easy-going air that had settled in the space between you. Despite your best efforts, anxiety threaded itself across your throat as you stepped closer to the looming figure before you.

König slowly uncrossed his arms, sensing the shift in your attitude. It seemed like he always knew, even when you said nothing and your face didn’t change, he knew. Sometimes it irked you, but at times like these when he could read you and adjust, you appreciated it.

“I promise,” he reiterated, that jade gaze as soft as ever.

You took in a shaky breath, then released. “Okay.”

“Okay?” König repeated, taking a step toward you.

“Okay.”

And right there and then was the first time you’d seen him smile.

It was brief, barely a flash of his teeth as he quickly regained control of himself, but it was enough. You knew that you’d never be able to dispel that image from your mind, you knew that you’d be thinking about it as you went through the never ending cycle of wondering whether you hated him or not.

You knew that you’d want to see it again.

A shiver ran along the length of your spine and an unfamiliar heat spread across your neck. You cleared your throat in an attempt to clear your thoughts. It might have been unsuccessful in that regard but it did get König to step into action.

“Right,” he said with a sigh, scanning the space around him. “The sooner we get started the sooner you can escape the torture.”

Now it was your turn to snort as you took your sneakers off. “If only it were that easy.”

König rolled his eyes, approaching you with slow and lazy steps that had your heart racing. You straightened up, letting him move closer until he was barely a breath away. The moment that you had both shared in the kitchen raced across your mind, the scene beginning to look dangerously similar- hopefully Graves wouldn’t appear around the corner to trigger your fight or flight reflex this time.

“Can I help you?” You managed to choke out, dropping your gaze from his.

“Uh, no.” There was mirth in his voice. The man took a step backward, his hands raised with his palms facing outward. “Are you not ready?”

You tried to not look at the size of his fingers, you tried not to remember how they felt wrapped around your throat.

“Ready?” You stammered.

You couldn’t bring yourself to make eye contact, frozen as you stared at those fucking hands. They’d done so much damage, so much.

You tried not to remember.

Saint had always told you to replace a negative interaction with a positive interaction whenever you’d begun to spiral. When you remembered how hard his eyes had been when you'd been on that roof, you tried to remember how soft they were when he spoke to you now.

Your mind fell back to the moment in the kitchen.

“I’m ready.” You nodded, taking in a deep breath as he moved in close again. The scent of him flooded your senses, the faint recollection of his deodorant, something sweet and woodsy.

Those hands slowly lowered and you watched as they fell to rest on your forearms.

You remembered them holding you down, pinning you to the concrete as the weight of him pressed into your stomach. But, you also remembered those same fingers holding you ever so softly as he inspected you for burns.

You let loose a soft breath, forcing your gaze upward. He was already watching your face, his eyes scanning your features for any sign of serious distress.

“Well,” König murmured, his words tasting of the caramel latte he’d been sipping on earlier. “You going to take me down or not, kleine vogel?”

You raised a brow, “you don’t need to cuss me out, I’m getting there.”

The man frowned for a short moment, mouth opening and closing as he fought to find the appropriate response. “I did not swear at you?”

The sentence was more of a question than a statement and while he was stuck in his confusion, you saw opportunity.

You swung your hands around the grip that he had on your forearms, digging your fingers into his skin instead. You dragged him towards you with a sudden jerk that took every ounce of strength that you had.

For a moment, you were worried that the giant wouldn’t budge. However, his whole body fell forward as you dropped onto your back with him above you. Both your feet came up to rest on his pelvic bone, bracing as the entirety of his weight fell onto your legs. The momentum was your best friend with this movement, pulling his hands to your chest as you kicked him over your head.

The sound of 300 pounds hitting the ground hard behind you had your heart soaring. Adrenaline was pumping through your system, propelling you to your feet as you spun to mount your victim.

König’s face was contorted, teeth bared as he gritted them hard. His hands were above his shoulders, fists clenched and you could tell that you’d stunned him.

Satisfaction flooded your being.

You scrambled up the length of his body, pressing your weight onto him as you clenched your knees hard onto either side of his hips. Your hands came down to push against his wrists, pinning his body as best as you could.

The silence between you both was only broken by the sounds of panting. König’s chest heaved beneath, shallow and quick breaths as his eyes slowly fluttered open to glare up at you.

“That was rude,” he groaned. “Smart. But rude.”

“Yeah, well,” you replied with a shrug, taking a moment to try and wet the dryness in your throat. “Fights are often unfair.”

König’s eyes narrowed for a moment before conceding your point. “Yes. Yes, they are.”

You’d seen the signs too late, the way his lips quirked upward before he ripped his hands from yours. You’d felt his fingers grip your waist but you were unable to react before the world tipped from beneath you. The floor met your back hard enough to banish the air from your chest and your body froze as you were spun right back into the disadvantage.

A gasp ripped from your throat, eyes wide as you stared at the man now above you. His hair fell across his forehead, resting atop his lashes as he watched you through a hooded gaze. Neither of you said a word and you didn’t bother trying to fight him off. König made a show of slowly moving to grip your biceps, your fingers scrabbling uselessly against his forearms as he pressed you into the ground.

His body was tucked between your thighs, spreading your legs far enough apart that they were rendered useless from beneath him. You swallowed hard, struggling to catch your breath.

“Very unfair,” he confirmed with a husky murmur.

“It’s always unfair with you,” you rasped, your fingers gripping his skin tightly. “Always, König.”

König’s face fell, any trace of satisfaction turning into something akin to sorrow. He cast his gaze aside.

“Perhaps,” he said. “ But, perhaps if you were prepared it wouldn’t have been so unfair.”

You watched him carefully.

“Wrong place, wrong time.” You whispered.

König met your gaze again, observing you for a long moment before offering a hesitant nod. “Yes.”

Maybe, this was your chance. This was the opportunity to talk to him about what you suspected, to hear his side of the story entirely. Maybe, if you could sift through the discrepancies between your stories and what his chain-of-command had told him, you could both unravel the mystery.

Either someone was trying to kill you and used him as the weapon to do so or something bigger was at play.

Maybe, both?

“Speaking of,” you began shakily, your fingers nervously tapping against his skin. There was no real way to gently ease into the topic, you’d just have to drop the bomb. “Do you think that maybe the whole incident was a little too… convenient?”

König fell completely still, his eyes baring into yours.

You supposed that maybe you could have been a little more tactful.

You swallowed nervously when his chest didn’t move to breathe, he was as still as a sniper watching for their target. He reminded you of a snake lying in wait, preparing to strike out at any given moment. Suddenly, you didn’t feel so confident that he was the one that you should have spoken to about it.

The man said nothing and you’d begun to realise that he didn’t plan to.

“I just mean that,” you scrambled for words, anxiety clawing at your throat when he only stared. “I just mean that maybe it wasn’t just an accident or a miscommunication, maybe they were using you as a way to get what they want.”

König’s face didn’t change when he spoke. “And what would that be?”

You hated how perfectly still he was.

“To take me out.” You could barely spit out the sentence.

The mans grip tightened against your arms and the small amount of trust that you’d built between each other teetered on the edge of a proverbial cliff. Adrenaline dumped into your system when he took in a deep breath, clenching his jaw. His eyes never left yours, holding you captive not just physically but mentally. You were scrambling for air.

“I think that you are overthinking,” he finally said, relaxing his grip and releasing the tension from his lungs.

Your heart dropped.

Overthinking?

Why wouldn’t he want to investigate this further? It would exonerate him, it would relieve him of the guilt, it would make him innocent.

“What?” You rasped, blinking as though it would clear your confusion. “How can you say that?”

“Easily,” König said, sitting up. His demeanour was suddenly so cold. He let go of your arms, shooting you one last look before he attempted to stand up. “You’ve been through a traumatic event. Overthinking is normal.”

Desperation clawed at your chest. Before you could stop yourself, you reached upward to snatch his hands. König’s fingers interlocked with yours and his eyes widened when you pulled him back toward you. Your hands were trapped between his and the floor once more, his face only a breath away.

But you couldn’t even think about the proximity and, for once, you didn’t even care.

How could he just dismiss you like that?

How could he just try to leave without even hearing you out?

“König,” you whispered pleadingly. “Please, just listen.”

The man shook his head immediately, trying to pull his hands from your grip. You held on as tight as you can manage, his name falling from your lips over and over as you begged him to stay. You needed him to hear it, you needed him to help you.

“Let go, Birdy,” his voice was firmer than you’d heard in months, the sound of it a shock to your system. How the tables had turned, this time you were not the one trying to escape. Regardless, you disobeyed, only tightening your hold on him.

“Just tell me what happened, maybe we can work it out,” the words sounded desperate, even to you. You sounded like a lover pleading for a second chance to make the relationship work. You sounded like you were holding to your last tether of sanity. You sounded crazy.

König’s face was hard when he tugged back again. “We already know what happened, Birdy.”

“Listen to me-”

“Let it go, Birdy.”

“But if you just-”

“Enough!”

You recoiled, flinching as he yanked his hands from yours, breaking your grip as easily as tearing a cobweb. König’s fingers wrapped around your biceps, pushing you back against the floor, restraining you from getting a steady hold on him.

The man leaned down, jade eyes alight with something you’d never seen. He burned, the thunderous expression painted across his features warned you that his blood was simmering beneath his skin.

“Enough,” König seethed, his voice dangerously quiet.

Fear trickled down your spine.

Your heart dropped.

As you watched the Austrian soldier lean over you with a ferocity that rivalled that godforsaken night, you realised that in your desperation you had been so stupid. So, so, so fucking stupid.

König wasn’t going to help you.

König was in on it.

#konig x reader #König x reader #König #könig cod #könig call of duty #call of duty x reader #call of duty #Modern Warfare 2 #könig modern warfare #könig mw2 #COD MW2 #cod mw2 x reader

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saltnsugarbear · 1 month ago

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holy water cannot help you now (18+)

summary: after telling Lip you don't get the appeal of sex, he decides to enlighten you

title from: "Seven Devils" by Florence and the Machine

word count: 1.2k

content warnings: MDNI!!! Lip calls reader kid, mention of recreational smoking, innocent-ish reader, Lip is a little freak /pos, afab reader genitalia, vaginal fingering, oral (reader receiving)

side note: found a way to mention my new ghost undies I love them <3

divider by @strangergraphics

It starts when Lip gives you your first joint.

That fire in his belly as he watches you hesitantly wrap your lips around the bud. It gets worse when you cough at your first hit, watching how your eyes water.

At first, he thought it was a sense of pride. Proud you felt comfortable enough to trust him, proud of you for taking that first hit.

When you asked for a hit from his cigarette a week later, he got the same feeling. This feeling of hunger clawing at his throat as he watched your chapstick leave a faint ring of red around the filter.

"That's all you're gettin'," He tells you, taking the cigarette from your hand. "Don't need y'gettin' addicted.."

His words make you roll your eyes, blowing the smoke in his face. In response, he cuffs you around the back of your head, ruffling up your hair.

"You're addicted to 'em.. Don't know why it matters if I am.." You mutter. You don't mean to pout, but you find it a little hypocritical that he's going to warn you about addiction.

"Yeah, well, if I jumped off a bridge, would you follow me?" It's meant to be a tease, a play on if your friends jumped off a bridge, would you? question.

"Maybe.." You mutter, shrugging your shoulders. Lip wasn't expecting you to answer so honestly, getting you a surprised laugh from him. You watched as Lip brought the cigarette to his lips and shook his head.

"You're ridiculous, kid.." He mutters when he exhales.

"I'm older than you, jackass," you tell him, furrowing you brows as you look at him. Your response makes him roll his eyes.

Lip thought the curling feeling he got when he watched you take your first drag would be a one time thing.

However, when you explained to him you were confused about how sex could possibly feel so good, it just sounded so messy and uncomfortable, that the feeling came clawing at his brain again.

It reared its head at him when he asked you if you had ever watched porn, masturbated, anything that might give you any inkling of an idea about why it was so good.

And it's not that Lip got off on you knowing so little and being so innocent and letting him show you - okay, maybe Lip got off a little at the idea of you being this innocent. He had this perverted sense of pride, knowing he would be the one to tell you to show you.

But that also depended on if you wanted him to show you. Something about some stranger teaching you how to fuck made his stomach churn, made him want to tell off this imaginary person. When he asked you if you wanted him to show you how sex could be good, he wasn't expecting you to say yes.

So when you did, he was caught off guard. He didn't get shy, but he felt himself get anxious at the thought. What if you thought he was weird? What if he ruined this experience for you and didn't change your mind at all?

His thoughts were derailed when you sighed his name softly, looking up at him with doe like eyes. All of his worries are forgotten, focusing on just making this experience as good for you as he can. The way he kisses you is different than how he's ever kissed anyone. It's soft and slow and sweet. Everything he pretends to not be.

This is what led to the both of you sitting on the edge of the bed, Lip with one of his hands under your shirt, feeling up your chest. You're breathing heavily against his hair as his mouth kisses down your neck. Lip bites softly at a few different spots, drawing out a whine from low in your chest. He's quick to start slipping off the bed, his mouth kissing the fabric of your shirt over your stomach. His hands are the last to follow, gripping at your skin softly as he moves down until he's grabbing at your waist.

"Gonna let me take these off?" He asks you, pulling at the waistband of your pants.

"Mhm.." You nod, looking down at him. You watch him smirk softly, bringing his hand up to push against your stomach.

"Lay back then, baby.." He says as he starts undoing the buttons and zipper. You're quick to please, laying back almost immediately. Lifting your hips so he can slip your jeans off is easy, and he slips them the rest of the way down your legs and tossing them to the side. He presses a soft kiss to your calf before he's sitting up to really take in the state of you, taking in the panties you're wearing.

"What the-" Lip cuts himself off. The way he speaks is what alarms you, making you push yourself up on your forearms.

"What?" You ask anxiously, brows tugging together as you study him.

"Ghost underwear?" He asks you, blonde brows quirking up when he looks up with a smirk. His question makes your face flush, twisting your mouth to the side.

"They're cute! And fun!" You tell him. You had been excited about the little ghosts on the front of your new panties. Four of the five had little ghosts pasted to the center, the fifth having a whole pattern of the ghosts.

"You're gonna kill me, kid.." Lip sighs, pressing a soft kiss to your stomach as an apology. He listens to you huff as you lay back down, fidgeting as you wait for him to do something.

The feeling of Lips tongue over your underwear makes you inhale sharply. The hum he lets out as he laps at you through the fabric makes your hips buck into his face. Maybe you can start to understand why people love this.

Lip spends what feels like hours in between your thighs. He spends that time lapping softly at your core, slowly working you open with his fingers. The feeling of your first orgasm is overwhelming, walls clenching tightly around his fingers while he sucks in your clit. He spends even longer down there after that, thrusting his fingers in and out of you as he kisses your clit.

Both orgasms have your legs clenching around him, squeezing him between your thighs. The groans he lets out against you overwhelm you, bringing your hands to push his face away from your core. His pupils are blown wide when you look down at him. Lip's chin is shiny with your slick, his face is flushed, and he looks positively smitten.

Your chest rises and falls heavily, blinking hard to clear your head. You watch as Lip uses his thumb to wipe off his chin, popping it in his mouth to clean it off. When he's done, he slips your underwear down your legs before making quick work of his own jeans. Lip is slow to crawl over you, slotting his hips against yours with his cock heavy against your stomach. You can't help but whine softly, lifting your hips to get some sort of relief.

"Look at ya. Already got you begging for it like a slut..." Lip kisses along your collarbone, biting the skin softly.

"Please, Lip," you whine into his ear, rocking your hips up so you can rub against the underside of his cock. Your whining does little to dissuade his words.

"Gonna let me fuck ya? Make y'feel good?" Lip asks as he lines himself up with your entrance. "Gonna let me show y'what you're missin'?"

His words make you feel dizzy, but you're nodding anyway.

"Yeah, gonna fuck ya real good.."

#saltnsugarbear #saltnsugarbear promptober #too much salt (18+)#lip gallagher smut #lip gallagher fanfiction #lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher fanfic #lip gallagher imagine #shameless imagines

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1-800-local-slut · 2 months ago

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Lucked Out

Liam lucked out with you, because if anyone can match his freak it's you.

Notes: All characters are 18+, I'm sorry if this isn't' the best I'm a little scared because this is my first kinktober and my first time writing for Liam. With that said, I hope you like this <3

Kinktober Masterlist

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Did Liam intend to have you pressed in between him and the door of his bedroom? No, but he couldn’t help himself.

It was shameful enough, when he came to the dance late. It wasn’t his fault, he was jumped by an assassin then a plant fucking exploded on him. Then, after his gasped out apologies and you fixed his tie while assuring him it wasn’t his fault. You two took your seats but he noticed everything. It was like suddenly he felt and saw everything. He saw how beautiful you were. He saw how nice your hair looked in a nice updo. He saw how plump your lips looked from the gloss, how long your eyelashes looked with your mascara, how curvy you looked in the dress. Then one thing led to another, you both excused yourself and got to the parking lot.

He got lucky with you, the second he hinted that he wanted to get out of there and get busy, you were putting your lipgloss in your purse and hugging your friends goodbye. You got to the parking lot, and he was pulling your hair to tilt your head back when he kissed down your neck. You moaned softly, and Liam knew he needed that. He didn’t know why he suddenly wanted to fuck anything that looked at him but Liam remembered he had his hot girlfriend sitting right next to him.

The whole time you drove them home, he struggled. Boy did he struggle. He struggled to keep his hands to himself, he struggled to keep his eyes off you, he struggled to not claw into your leather seats (the last time he did you slapped him clear out of his anger induced black out and he had to run you the 150 for your seats) and you almost ran a red light trying to get home. Liam personally wasn’t worried. Sure, a little embarrassed at the prospect of getting caught fucking you in a parking lot, but honestly? The way his head felt full of images of all the times you two had ever had sex he didn't even care.

Every time he came so hard his abs cramped, every time you deep throated him and he came down your throat, everytime he sunk into you, everytime you moaned out his name when he was on top of you, everytime you were on top of him. Everytime he shyly confessed something he wanted to try with you and you agreed so fast that once you two were done and you were fast asleep in his arms he thanked whoever was looking out for him and sent you his way.

His dick literally pulsated in his pants, and he was trembling. He didn’t want to hurt you, his human girlfriend who even though she matched his freak was still fragile compared to him. As in Liam could tumble down the stairs and be A-OK but you would probably fall into a coma. He doesn’t really remember how easy it was to get hurt, his perception may be a little bit off.

It was hot, when you two got out of the car and he carried you up the steps of his house. He hardly was able to keep his lips off of you enough to open the front door but the door eventually was opened. After he got frustrated and broke away from you, while you kissed his back. He pulled you inside, kicked the door shut, and got you up the stairs. Now all he had to do was stop making out with you long enough to open the door. Sounds easy? Wrong.

Your kisses were like crack to him. He was addicted to you. His heart was jumping around in his chest, he shuddered when you ran your hands over his neck and pulled him close by his tie. Your leg was in his hand, he was running his hand up and down your thigh and it was like heat was coming off of you. He could literally smell your arousal. You did love him in a suit, you told him so many times. Maybe he should just keep it on, as long as you keep that dress on. In truth, he was doomed the minute he saw you in that dress.

He bit your neck, sucking dark bruises into your skin, while you literally tore his suit off his body while soft moans escaped you. If he ever finds out what plant that was, he’ll be buying it in bulk.

Finally, Liam had the sense to just turn his door knob and you two stumbled in. Between the gasps, you two sloppily undressed each other. Unlike the other times you two had sex, this wasn’t filled with giggles and soft touches with tender looks. No, this was just him trying to get out of his tie, while you kicked your heels off and he kept his eyes trained on you with such an intense stare that you whimpered underneath it. Reaching forward, you pulled him into a searing kiss and the two of you fell onto his made bed, that he made in the event that you did come over and he got lucky tonight.

He moaned into the kiss, his shirt finally off while he pulled your dress over your head, which slightly disheveled your hair. Clearly you wanted him too though, you had on the bra that he loved. The one that he told you so many times that he loved and the bra he always sees you wearing in his dreams. The window was open, and the moonlight shone down on you. God, you were beautiful. You were so gorgeous that Liam felt a little bit bad that he was about to ruin all that pretty makeup of yours.

He didn’t even realize that his eyes were starting to glow, that color you’ve referred to as incredibly sexy. When he got it unlatched and your boobs bounced out freely, he smiled, like a kid in a candy store. It was like waking up in the middle of the night and seeing an ice cold water bottle next to your bed.

“So you just wore my favorite bra, you wanted to get fucked didn’t you?” He teased, bringing his head closer. He couldn’t even hide the smile on his face as he put one of your nipples in his mouth. You let out a hum while he sucked on your chest.

“I don’t even-” a moan broke off your thoughts when he ran a hand down your stomach and over your underwear.

“I don’t know what you mean.” You finished, breathless and chuckling just a little bit while you ran your fingers through his hair and his hand slipped into your underwear. One day, he’ll figure out what it is about him that makes you so wet. He didn’t even have time to respond, he didn't even have time to engage in his usual foreplay, he was about to come now. And this was a really nice pair of pants.

He painstakingly pulled away from your chest, ignoring your soft whine from the loss of stimulation. Pulling his pants down, he noticed your eyes glimmered at the sight of the dark gray boxers. You told him that you wanted to see him wearing them everyday until you died. Maybe it was the plant that had him so horny but he decided this on his own: he was going to destroy you.

Kicking off his boxers, pulling down your underwear, he heard your heart beating in gleeful anticipation. Almost like you wanted it to hurt (and he knew you did, after all this time he knows how you like it) and it definitely would. Liam loves you so much he just can't deny what you want. Coming back to lay on top of you, naked bodies on naked bodies, Liam planted a kiss on your neck and grinded himself into you. He was right there, his dick wet before he even went into you. You licked a stripe along his neck, running your hands down his toned chest and the two of you began a sloppy mess of horny grinding.

“You like when I do this?” Liam was not blind, he could literally see how excited you were, how hard it was to have patience.

“Shut up.” You moaned back while your legs shook just a little bit from feeling him against you.

“I knew you liked teasing, but the way you're acting right now-” He was cut off by you guiding him into you. Oh you really couldn’t wait. Maybe he wasn’t the one most affected. He let out a soft ‘fuck’ when he felt how warm and tight you were. The voice in his head telling him to just do it was silent now, celebratory canons went off in his head. But no, this wasn’t right. He needed something insane, he needed that really rough nasty stuff tonight.

Pulling out, much to the both of your dismay you wiggled on the bed for him to put it back.

“Turn around.” He was sweating, his head felt foggy and his eyes were pulsing. Like a puppet on a string you were on your knees, your ass up in the air and your back arched deeply. Perfect, you were perfect. He saw how wet your pussy was and it was finally time. He slammed into you, you jumped forward with a loud broken moan.

Suddenly, something snapped in him. He wasn’t exactly going to go gentle on you before but now? Forget it. He let out a low, dangerous growl, feeling his claws pushing out of his nails while he pulled back out and slammed back into you. You jumped, almost like this was a bit more than you bargained for but it was what you wanted.

Fuck he just couldn’t help it. Perfect, you were perfect. He was slamming in and out of you, eyes rapidly trying to take in every single part of you. His hands slapped your ass and held a bruising grip on your hips while you clenched the sheets underneath you. Your moans were like music to his ears, while his hands found your hair. Liam was a talkative guy okay? So even when he was pounding into you with reckless abandon he needed to let you know.

Leaning down to meet your head half way he began his symphony of perverted conversation.

“You like when I fuck you like this?” He had to ask. The way you were screaming out his name while he pounded your brains out was an answer enough but he had to hear it. You stammered, attempting to get the words out, while his free hand came around and pinched one of your nipples. Your legs shook and he chuckled darkly in your ear.

“Yes!” You jumped, one of his hands delivering a slap to your clit. He began rubbing hard and fast circles that had to wiggling to escape his strong arms. He wasn’t sure why you tended to do that, because usually it just makes him put you in a headlock while you cum. Maybe you liked it though, he can’t really figure it out. You gasped out a moan, and Liam vaguely hoped his mom and step dad arent home. You were closing, whispering his name over and over again with each second he felt you cream all over him even more.

“Don’t worry, there’s more to come. We’re gonna go all night, and you’re about to cum so much that you forget your own name. You want that?” Of course you did, you were his favorite girl. You matched his freak better than anyone. You nodded while you moaned, feeling a hand of his coming up to squeeze your neck. His fingers still rubbing your clit, as he thrusted up into you. The more you chanted his name the closer he got to the edge. Your hips jumped and he gave you three more thrust, growling more obscene words into your ear while your legs shook and you screamed his name. You came, hard. Your back arched and you attempted to close your legs but Liam wouldn’t give you the chance as he kept thrusting up into you. His fingers continued to attack your clit but decided to give you a small break.

He switched his strokes, no longer going fast and hard but instead slowly and hard. Each moment you let out soft whimpers and moans of his name that broke down his brain.

“Only sluts like to be fucked this way. Say you're a slut.” He pulled out, putting you on your back. He was close, so close that he just needed one more thrust and it would be time for round two. You were dazed, from cumming so hard that you were basically seeing stars. Looking down, Liam noticed the mess you made around his dick and he groaned upon seeing the creamy ring.

“Come onnn say it.” He teased rubbing himself over your clit and over your opening.

“I’m a slut.” There it was! Liam's angel! He slid back into you, groaning while he clutched your face and planted a rough kiss to your lips.

“Fuck yeah you are.” He picked up the hard pace again, pushing himself to some limits that he had literally never reached before. His head rushed, and he felt dizzy. He let out a loud growl as he came inside of you while you dragged your nails down his back. Your legs trembled around his waist before they undid themselves as you melted into the sheets.

That ground breaking orgasm did very little to ease the intense fog over his mind. You were looking up at him, while he pulled out slowly. The sight of his cum leaking out of you, plus the mess your pussy made had him shaking. It was going to be a great night.

#black reader #x black reader #x reader #fem reader #multifandom account #requests open #kinktober #liam dunbar #teen wolf #liam dunbar smut #teen wolf smut

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jester089 · 1 year ago

Note

I feel I need to balance this angst out, do this AFTER you’ve done the others and given yourself time to chill…I’ve got my eyes on you…

Anyhow, how’s about the TADC gang all seperate with an s/o who’s just the definition of ‘chill’. They are the best comfort partner (just behind Kinger ofc), they comfort, share and engage in hobbies, show small signs of affection like soft side hugs and gentle butterfly kisses to the cheeks or neck, an ear to listen and a shoulder to cry on. Will also 100% piggyback/bridal carry their significant other if asked or for fun. Just a pure wholesome fuzzy mess.

Lazy days

This is just going to be what I think their hobbies and all are. As it's a fluffy request I'm going to do softer not cannon versions of everyone. TADC crew x Chill/Relaxed Reader

Caine

Caine can be an incredibly busy man/AI so try and make him take breaks. He gets to caught up in work because he's so worried that if he doesn't have fun things to do then people will start abstracting. So when you walk into his office gently pick him up and sit down in his chair with him now sitting on your lap it helps him snap out of it. He isn't going to stop still. But he really appreciates you being there. You being there and every now and again giving him an idea you had makes the work take longer, but makes it much more enjoyable. You'll honestly probably end up falling asleep on him, arms wrapped around him head on his shoulder. Sadly he doesn't have a neck, or any real exposed skin. So kisses will be a little rough but that isn't gonna stop you. It is a little weird kissing a giant set of teeth though. And second he finished up, or at least reaches a point where he can stop you pick him up and take him to your bed. Sometimes he'll tunnel vision to much on something and you'll have to do that anyways. It's like holding an angry cat when that happens, minus the claws.

Gangle

Gangle loves affection but isn't amazing at giving nor receiving it. Any time you do anything she can and will blush. And if you protect her from Jax. Putty Gangle has arrived. How relaxed you are despite everything happening helps her out a lot. I headcannon that she loves working with clay, like making pottery and all. But sadly with her ribbon hands she can't do it anymore. Or rather couldn't, cause you help her out. You two will sit in front of a potters wheel. You have her place her hands on the outside of yours and you just let her lead. (I have made plenty of pottery in my time and I can safely say it is incredibly hard to do.) Sadly unless your helping her with something she doesn't let you in her pottery station anymore. You tried to make a mug for her without her and it didn't go well. You didn't know the first thing about pottery when she wasn't guiding you so it ended up blowing up in the kiln. You felt really bad. Cuddles with Gangle are a little strange. She doesn't have any real body weight so it really does feel like your cuddling a piece of ribbon (for good reason). So you two came up with something. You got a body pillow that's around her height and when you two are cuddling she'll wrap around it so she has more mass. When she needs some comfort you'll know. Whenever she's in a really bad mood and wants you touch but doesn't really want to say it she'll exist really close to you and start gently wrapping one of her arms around yours. Overall 10/10, she's a giant sweetheart and your lucky you got her. So treat her well yeah?

Zooble

I recommend bringing some kind of hoodie or blanket with you. Her edges can be a little harsh on the body. Out of everyone Zooble is the highest chance of most cuddles. She never gets involved in adventures and avoids the others when she can. Which basically just means more alone time with her. Zooble has a lot of insecurities concerning her new body and the circus. You're the only one she trust enough with that kind of thing so don't downplay her thoughts and emotions. The main way she shows affection is just spending time with you, she isn't big on touch and she doesn't exactly have the resources for gifts. And that worries her, she knows that she can be rude and unpleasant to be around but she doesn't have anything else to offer you. She's not great at communication so you really just need to keep patient and keep loving her. She has a jagged and rough exterior, but it like everything can be broken. It'll just take time.

Kinger

You two make a great bunch. The others never would have thought but if someone is having an especially bad day they go to you two. Kinger is amazing at calming and encouraging words, and your amazing at calming acts and setting up an atmosphere. You've saved a lot from abstraction because of that. Hugs are amazing from him. That royal medieval robe he's wearing is really nice to the touch. Sadly he doesn't have a mouth but he'll try and make up for that with head bonks (Head bonk: To gently place your head against someone you care about to show affection. Usually used when that person isn't comfortable with kisses.) One time you two built an actual castle out of pillows. It took you like a day but it had a working drawbridge and everything! Sadly it was broken during an adventure but it was really fun to build with Kinger. He can get a little... Unstable... When that happens a tight hug and a kiss can usually snap him out of it. But if that doesn't work bring him back to your room. The atmosphere you have set up and the fact that it smells like you will help him out a lot.

Ragatha

Once again you two make a good combo. She holds people off from breaking down. But if she can't stop it then she sends em to you. So once again you two help with abstraction a lot. But poor baby is stressed and you help provide some needed relief. I see her as the type of if she was expecting a kiss or a hug she'll hug/kiss back and thank you. If she wasn't she turns into a blushing mess with a big ol dopey smile on her face. Something she appreciates a lot is more childish things. Like if you start up a pillow fight with her she will be ecstatic. But be warned her pillows hit like a truck. Not cause their different just because she's really good at pillow fights. Her fav cuddle type is the honeymoon hug (look it up). She gets to be close to you and give you smooches if she wants. And she gets to feel like she's protecting you. She is the mom friend and you annoy her by saying over the top things like. "Ok MOM" when she asks you to stop doing something. First few times she hated it but now she goes along with it sayng things like "Hey! Don't talk back to me. Give me your phone you're grounded." She never means it though.

Jax

I think Jax is the most stable person in the circus. I'm saying he's mentally ok I'm just saying that he is by far at the least risk for abstraction. Whenever Jax plays a joke on someone and you go to help calm them down he gets a little jealous. He knows you love him but he doesn't really like you talking to others. So don't be surprised if you're in the middle of comforting someone and he just picks you up and walks away. He can be a little mean so for your own sake try and not take his words to heart. He just by second nature starts pointing things out that he dislikes, and often he starts pointing out things on/to do with you before he realizes. He also won't apologize so just try and ignore it. He sorta makes up for it with affection though. Cause he's pretty affectionate. Most of it is teasing yes, like he's come out of no where kiss your cheek and use a pet name that flusters you then just leave like he didn't do anything. But he's surprisingly gentle when it comes to that kind of thing. I see him being the type where you two fall asleep in the same bed and you wake up with him having his arms and legs around you probably drooling on your forehead. Or he's one of those that take up the whole bed so you often wake up on the floor. Many say that opposites attract. And you two are very different. But that isn't a bad thing.

Pomni

You two are opposites in a lot of ways. She is anxious and constantly in a state of panic/worry. And you never are. So you help her a lot. I see her being kind of like a cat towards you. Constantly around you and or begging for attention. I have an idea that I came up with a few years ago. It's a hoodie with a giant pocket inside. Like one of those baby carriers but minus the straps and inside the hoodie so who/whatever you keep in there share warmth. And she loves it. You two can be relaxing in your room and she'll realize something and spring off the bed you two were on. She and will turn the entire place upside down looking for it (https://www.tiktok.com/@louiencoco/video/7214862848042831110) so if you don't wanna have to clean up later just show her where it is. On a more serious note though you two were a match made in heaven and with enough time you could make a genuine improvement in her mental health. The main reason she's so fragile mentally is cause she never gets/got a break. So her favorite activity with you is probably just relaxing in one of your rooms away from the others.

(Tumblr deleted this like 3 times while I was writing it. And it turned out kind of bad because of that. Sorry but don't blame me. Blame tumblr.)

xoxo, Jester

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #caine x reader #gangle x reader #zooble x reader #kinger x reader #ragatha x reader #jax x reader #pomni x reader #noob author #not beta'd

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just-some-random-blogger · 10 months ago

Text

Accidental Targ

Scene III: i told you to hold my hand! | Masterlist

Daemon Targaryen x Modern!Reader

Summary: After coming to terms with the fact you were in King's Landing some two thousand years before your birth, you get reunited with your friend and try to manifest your way back to the present. For the meantime, Harwin Strong is your bodyguard.

Word Count: 4k+

Warnings: fem!reader, time travel au, descriptions of reader's hair, incestuous gremlin!daemon, very sus and innappropriate boss-employee dynamics, low key sugar daddy!otto hightower vibes, crackfic, typos, etc.

A/N: GUYS I DID IT. I FINISHED IT 😫 Also, its come to my attention that perhaps the way i planned out everything geographically is ??? bad but no its not just roll with it AND!! remember yall voted for him ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i have a feeling you didnt read the prompt fully but whatever HAHAHAA i honestly have no idea where i meant to take this fic, so ???? enjoy?? HAHHAAH

Shoot me if I ever say it again, but for now: gods bless capitalism, specifically for it desecrating a national landmark.

Where once I was one of the people who protested against the building of the High Garden Centre, girl, was I thankful that the old ruins of the fucking Red Keep laid there as a little ol' artsy featurette.

"What's that sound?" Daemon asks as we stand from our spot.

I turn to my side, never before so relieved to hear and see, no more than two blocks away, a rave spilling out of a club, the very one Libby and I were at before we got into this shit show. "That, my prince, is called EDM."

I hurriedly run to Libby's side to pick her up, but Daemon does that himself. He get down and pulls the blue haired woman on his back, and I help him. At the same time, I feel a buzz from my satchel.

My phone!

Daemon watches me as I frantically claw for my device. The amount of texts and call notifications that pop up on my screen is overwhelming. I decide to just let it go off and grab Daemon's arm, "come on."

We walk down from the ruins, shifting through the shrubs and foliage around it. I catch the sight a mall cop and feel agitated when he looks over. He couldn't care less though, the site was open to the public after all, and with a literal club being right there, we were the least of his worries.

We pass the rusty chain fence surrounding it, and draw near Harrenhal (the club). Once we're there, a bunch of men hoot and holler at me. I ignore them as they say something about my 'Targaryen' hair and it dawns on me they were probably calling me princess and lady because I was still in a fucking Targaryen era dress.

Still, I ignore the stupid fucks as they ask to see my pretty skirt, opting to walk faster instead. I was horrified by how loud and violent Daemon's scream was.

He shouted so gutturally that I couldn't understand a lick of The High Valyrian flaming out of his mouth. The vein on his neck popped out and I literally had to hold him back from charging and dropping Libby.

"Daemon, please!" I whimper, heart racing, "Libby's still on you-"

"Grab her and I'll fucking ram steel down- COME OVER HERE AND SAY THAT AGAIN. SAY THAT-"

Steel? I look to his belt. Fucking seven hells, he brought Dark Sister?

I look back at him with wide eyes, feeling nauseous now that I've caught how maddened he looked.

In a panic, I gently pat his face while pulling his arm back, "Daemon, please."

He doesn't look at me.

My voice gets softer and my eyes water, "Daemon, I beg you."

He huffs and clenches his jaw, still not sparing me a glance.

"We don't have time for them," I whisper and keep my hand on his cheek, "I'm just going to connect to the club's wifi from here, then I'll can call us an Ubor."

Daemon does not tear his gaze from the men, who eventually waddle away to whatever sewer they came from, still hollering bullshit as they did.

"Kesan daor nārhēdegon naejot nyetodha aōha irosh," Daemon mutters. I will not forget to slit your throats.

The relief that washed over me was unparalleled when I booked an Ubor set to arrive in 3 minutes. I whimper and rub my eyes, "okay, not long now."

Daemon finally looks at me, still visibly pissed, and adjusts Libby on his back.

I wipe my face, "we're just going to get in the c-" Fuck... I should probably prepare him for the car.

"Okay," I raise my hands, "we're going to get in a metal..." I motion to the space, "... there's going to be a- a- carriage? But with no horse... but and when I get in, you just get in with me, okay?"

Daemon's expression is now one of confusion.

I sigh and place a hand on his shoulder, "it's going to be okay."

His lips curl, "... OK."

I screw my eyes shut and shake my head rapidly, "I mean alright. Alright! ALRIGHT!"

Daemon takes in my visible frustration and nods slowly, "OK."

To be honest, Daemon was a pretty good Ubor passenger, save for the fact his sword nearly cut me, Libby, him and the fucking car seats when he tried to sit without removing his scabbard first. We were lucky the driver seemed to be used to... ren fair people.

He also seemed to be used to driving people to the ER. I was too relieved to think realize how fucked up that kinda is in the moment. Needless to say, I gave him 5 stars and an extra tip.

With Dark Sister in my grip and Libby in Daemon's arms, we finally made it to Lannister Medical Center.

The moment we get there, I run inside the ER and break down at the first nurse I see. I infodump everything, how Libby got attacked, how Harwin lost her, how some maesters tried to help us, how she lost a lot of blood, how I'm afraid she's going to die, how Daemon ended up carrying her, and I just keep going up until I saw Libby's blue hair scattered on a stretcher and the nurse told me to sit down.

I didn't have much fight in me left to argue, so I sit myself down on the bench. But then I see the nurse speaking to Daemon, who, seemed to be explaining what had happened, and I panic all over again.

Before I could stand though, another nurse was there to accommodate me. He did a checkup on me, asked me how I was feeling, and asked if I needed anything to calm down.

I told him I was fine and proceeded to answer his other questions. Daemon eventually came to my side and eyed him.

The nurse gives me a nod and offers a smile, "you seem to be physically well. Just let yourself relax. The doctors have your friend; they'll do their best to help her."

"Thank you."

The nurse nods again. He gives me and Daemon one last look before walking off.

I grab Daemon's hand once it's just the two of us. I look up and shudder, "we did it."

He looks down at me, violet eyes solemn. He brings a hand to my cheek and swipes at my cheek, "ȳdra daor limagon."

"I don't know what that means," I mumble.

"I said don't cry, pretty girl," he kneels in front of me, "worrying will not save your friend."

I stare at him, feeling my heart race and belly roll because of the look he had. He brushes my silver hair back behind my shoulders, only intensifying the flurry in my stomach. Just as I opened my mouth to speak, suddenly, my stomach growls. Oh.

Daemon turns his eyes to my belly as I clutch it.

"You want something to eat... prince?"

Daemon reaches a hand out, "lead the way."

I take his hand, grab Dark Sister, and hand it to him. He fastens his scabbard as we exit the ER and I go through my satchel, fishing for my wallet. Just before I get it, I remember that I blew most of my money on the Ubor.

"Fuck," I curse and turn to Daemon, "I don't have enough money."

Daemon rests his hand on his sword and simply stairs.

"I don't have coin," I clarify. I look around the road and figure our chances of riding a bus at this hour was nonexistent. I give him a look, "do you mind walking home with me?"

Daemon raises a brow, "as opposed to swimming home with you?"

I raise my brows and sigh, "Daemon-"

"Lead the way," he nods and points, "I am not one to tire easily."

I nod and slice through air to drive a point, "okay. No matter what happens," I reach out to him, "you have to hold my hand, okay?"

He looks at my hand then my face, his violet eyes sparkle with amusement. He chuckles but he links his fingers between mine (overkill if you ask me). I'm glad goosebumps don't form.

Daemon smiles softly, "you take me for a child, riña?"

"This child knows how to cross the street," I squeeze his hand harder than necessary and begin to walk off, "I'm not sure you do, kekepa." Grandfather.

Daemon laughs, full-on throwing his head back, "how hard is it to cross? You jus-"

His words go dry when an empty school bus passes us. He was so stunned by the yellow contraption, I had to tug his arm to continue walking.

Just then, a Megatron looking-ass truck drives down the street. I hiss and curse the 14 wheeler for emitting such horrible smoke, eyeing it as it drives away.

Meanwhile, I catch the prince's stunned reaction and almost feel bad for finding it funny. Almost.

We arrive at my apartment about 20 minutes later.

I press the elevator button and turn to Daemon, "don't put your arm between the door, okay?"

Daemon gives me a look.

The elevator opens and we step inside. Daemon gives me a look, "we have lifts you know."

I pull my head back, "you do?"

"At the wall," Daemon retorts as the elevator door closes.

"The wall?" I think for a moment, "ahh. You're right."

A beat.

I knit my brows, "wait, you've been to the wall?"

"Of course I've been to the wall."

The moment we get to my place, relief washes over me. I take my shoes off and scoop my hair in front, "fucking rip this dress off me."

Without a single thought between his brows, Daemon's reaches out to undo the ties at the back of my dress.

Just before he does this, I hear him walk in with his boots and nearly have a heart attack when he passes my threshold.

"OH, ABSOLUTELY NOT!" I turn and shove him back, "take your crusty boots off now!"

Daemon looks at me in bewilderment but walks back and doesn't protest as he removes his shoes. He places his shoes on the rack along with mine.

Not wasting time, he catches my arm and yanks me towards him. He spins me around and immediately undoes the back of my dress. I hastily begin to tug my dress down once I can.

He chuckles, "eager girl."

I rather literally jump out of my dress when I can. Pent-up rage overcomes me. I turn around and start kicking the dress away, releasing all my frustration and anger out on the thing. I curse 8th century Westeros and the Red Keep in particular and assault the object until I'm out of breath.

I proceed to jump onto my sofa and allow exhaustion to finally take over my being.

A second later, I catch Daemon's expression and realize, he probably thought he was going to get lucky when I asked him to basically strip me naked.

"Ahh," I get back on my feet, "sorry about," I point to the dress, "that."

Daemon says nothing as he steps closer. He reaches out for my hip and I swat his hand away. I shake my head, "this is my house."

He chuckles as I evade him on my way to the kitchen, which was not nearly as far as it should have been. The prince eyes the space, "yes. An impressive little room you've got." He follows after me, "I'd love to see the rest of it."

I look at him as I reach my fridge and open the door.

Daemon squints at the light that radiates on me. I cuss at the fact I only had cereal (no milk) and some vegetables that have gone bad. I grab the paper box and hand it to him. He blankly stares at it as I discard the vegetables.

Daemon's brows contort at he box, "it's cold."

I wash my hands, "yeah, refrigerators do that."

"Gra'-nola," he reads.

"Granola," I correct as I dry my hands on my shift.

I'm suddenly struck with the realization his grubby has have never seen antibacterial soap. I snatch the box from him and motion to the sink, "wash your hands."

Daemon turns to the sink and purses his lips.

For a second, I debate if he'd melt if he uses something antiseptic, but then figure I should still take my chances.

I prop the cereal on the counter and exemplify him how to wash his hands. Daemon, with slight reluctance, pumps some hand wash on his palm, opens the sink, and rinses.

I excitedly applaud him once he was done.

"A hand towel," he raises his dripping hands.

I look around even though I didn't have a hand towel. I shrug, "I usually just use my pants."

Daemon shakes his hands by the sink, "your pants?"

"Yeah. They're like clothes that you put on your-"

He grabs my shift and pulls me closer. He wipes his hands on it, "I know what pants are, princess."

I push him off and smirks as he dodges. I make a face, "well, I do so beg your pardon, your majesty."

The prince lets out a low laugh, "don't get too brazen, or I'll have you begging till you weep."

I quickly change the subject, "get that damned sword off your hip." I shoo him and rummage through my kitchen cabinets.

Daemon watches this and chuckles again. He tilts his head as he eyes my legs. He undoes his scabbard, sets it on my dining table, and pulls out a chair. He sits down just as I find a can of Sbam. Huzzah!

I grab a chopping board and open the can. A small smile spreads on the prince's lips as stares. But then, his expression drops when I shake, or try to shake, the processed meat out of the can.

I huff once I've succeeded, and I begin to cut the Sbam chunk, "you know this was in created during the war," I slice a piece, "it saved a lot of people from starvation."

"Which war?"

I freeze when he says this. I open my mouth then close it, unsure if recounting the details of world wars to him was a good idea, "you know what, never mind that."

Once I was done with the Sbam, I got a pan and heat it up. I get a plate and a loaf of bread, then place it on the table.

I click my tongue at the sight of his sword, "off the table!"

Daemon watches as I take Dark Sister and replace it with the plate and bread. I place the sword by the shoes and he takes the plastic wrapped bread. He feels the material and opens it, "what is this?"

"Bread," I retort, going back to my pan.

"No, I know that, but what's it wrapped with?"

I give him a quick look, "oh, plastic," I begin to cook the Sbam, "it's made of carbon... I think- I dunno- don't quote me on that."

Daemon opens the bag and takes a slice of bread. He pulls his had back, "it's sliced."

I beam and jump excitedly, "it is! It's sliced bread! Betty White is older than sliced bread! And so are you!"

Daemon ignores this as he sniffs the piece in his hand. He takes a bite then and makes a face, "why does it taste like that?"

"Like what?"

His brows knit and his eyes narrow, "like a pretender."

I burst into a laugh. I flip over the Sbam with a spatula, "imitation bread?"

"It wants so earnest to be bread," he pushes the loaf away and shakes his head, "but it clearly isn't."

I laugh even harder.

He snorts at my reaction. He smiles as leans back on his chair. A few moments later, he grows serious, "you ought to dismiss your royal baker."

Oh. My lips twitch and I chuckle under my breath, "ah, yes. My royal baker. Yes, I will dismiss my royal baker for making horrible sliced bread. Yes."

The Sbam was now cooked. I present it to him on a plate, "bon app-- ... I hope you like it."

Daemon leans forward to scrutinize the dish.

I press my lips into a line as I sit down next to him. I take a slice of imitation bread and fold in a slice of Sbam. I realize just how hungry I was after taking a bite. Through half-full mouth, I mutter, "it's good."

Daemon watches me and follows suit. He takes some bread and Sbam, then chomps.

I stop chewing. Wait, what if he gets an instant heart attack because his living fossil-self can't handle processed food?

He licks his lips and chews. I begin to grow more agitated as he makes a face.

"It's delicious," Daemon says, going in for another bite.

My agitation turns into shock, "really?!"

"Well, it's no roasted pork, but it'll suffice," he mutter between chews.

I let out a soft laugh and nod, "I'm glad it's enough for the prince."

"I'm honored the princess herself made it for me."

Aw, fuck. Who's gonna tell him?

There is a knock on my door. At the same time, my phone rings.

Daemon is alerted by the sound and I dash away to finally answer my phone.

"What is that?" the prince asks.

"It's my phone. Remember? You can call people with it."

Daemon narrows his eyes as I rummage my bag for my device. The knocking on the door gets louder.

I turn to the door, "just a minute."

I find my phone and feel my stomach drop at the caller ID. The banging on the door persists.

I answer the phone and head for the door, "hello?"

"Fucking hells!" the voice is worn and apparently worried, "where the fuck have you bee-"

"It's not you outside, is it?" I cut him off as I head for the door.

"What?! No! I'm in the fucking North, dammit! Your friends have been calling me nonstop, since fucking Sunday! -"

I open the door and my face falls. Standing before me is a man in a dark teal suit; his tie was loose, his stubble was thick, and he held what looked like a dozen bags in his hands.

"- You and Libby have been fucking missing for days! Where-"

"Mr. Hightower," I lower my phone as the man on the other end continues to chastise me.

Otto Hightower looks me up and down, then sighs, "out of the way."

Without another thought, I step back to let him in. He expertly slips out of his leather shoes then heads towards my sofa. He places all the bags on the coffee table. I follow after him.

I hear my name being shouted from my phone. I close the door and follow after Otto.

I listen in on the call again and I hiss when the voice pierces my ear drum, "Jon, calm down."

"CALM DOWN!? HOW CAN I BE CALM WHEN YOU WON'T TELL ME ANYTHING!?"

I begin to panic when Daemon walks over.

"Who is that?" Otto asks me. He notices Daemon, then makes a face, "who are you?"

I look at Otto, then Daemon, and dash over to the prince, grabbing his hand. I watch in real time the recognition and disbelief that floods the Targaryen's features as he watches the other slowly remove his tie.

"Libby and I got stuck in the ren-fair!" I reply to my phone.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU FUCKING CALL?!"

"MY PHONE DIED, JON!" I shout back a lie.

Otto's brow raises. He looks at me and mouths, "Jon?"

I ignore that and groan "LOOK! I'm fine! Libby's-- ... Libby's," I whisper softly, "in the ER-"

"THE ER-"

"I'M TAKING CARE OF HER!"

"WHY THE FUCK IS SHE IN THE ER?!"

"Libby's in the ER?" Otto mutters.

I raise a finger to answer my phone, "Jon, please. I'll explain everything tomorrow."

He screams my name and I have to rip my phone away from my ear again. I vaguely hear him rant about how I should explain why his sister is in the fucking ER.

"Jon, Jon, I love you but I have to go," I quip and immediately end the call. I turn on airplane mode and throw my phone on to the couch.

I release a breath and find myself pulling a smile as the man in the suit eyes me. He's about to speak, but Daemon beats him to it.

"What was that?" the prince asks, pulling me by the arm to face him.

I turn to him and make a face. It's Otto that answers for me, "her ex boyfriend."

I turn to Otto as he tilts his head and raises a brow, as if daring me to correct him.

I do, "my best friend's brother."

Daemon eyes Otto; the latter makes a face, "who used to your lover," he crosses his arms, "I'm offended you take his calls but not mine."

"And who are you?" Daemon hisses, stepping towards him.

Without missing a beat, Otto meets his gaze and scoffs, "who are you?"

Daemon's pulls his chin back and chuckles dryly. His expression screamed FUCK AROUND AND FIND OUT.

I jump in front of him, my back presses his chest. I give a nervous laugh, "Mr. High- Director- Mr. Director- sir. This is Daemon."

Otto watches as I grip Daemon's hands behind me.

"And Daemon," I barely look at him over my shoulder, "this is... my... employe-"

"Otto Hightower," he cuts me off, bringing his hand into his breast pocket, "Director and CFO of King's Landing Holdings."

I wince, fuck.

"King's Landing?!" Daemon laughs out loud.

Otto produces a business card.

"It's a company!" I turn around and wave my hands, "it's a company! An establishment!"

Daemon does not tear his eyes away from him.

"He's my employer!" I explain.

Otto offers a piece of paper between his fingers.

The prince looks at it and slightly pushes me away, "what's he doing here then?"

"That's hardly any of your business," Otto retorts, tucking his business card back into his pocket.

Daemon laughs and finally turns to me. He mutters something in High Valyrian along the lines of 'let me do something' and 'stabbing'. I frantically shake my hand and push him back.

He thankfully relents and I sit him back down on my dining table.

My relief is fleeting when I realize the only reason Daemon didn't refute was because Otto was trailing right after me. My stomach drops when I feel a hand on my back.

Otto is right behind me. He places a few of the paper bags he brought on the table. He opens them, "I bought you dinner."

I turn to him, intent to tell him he shouldn't have.

"Amongst other things," he adds.

Daemon barks, "we have dinner."

"How did you even know I was home?" I say at the same time.

Otto's eyes flick to him, to the plate of Sbam on the table. His face is blank as looks back to me. He decides to remove his coat jacket, "I suppose you'd-" eyes Daemon, "-also think a candle equal to a campfire."

"Mister Hightower," I helplessly mutter.

He hangs his jacket on the backrest. He turns to me, "and you were missing--"

My expression sours.

"-- what did you expect me to do? I obviously utilized my connections. I'm offended you'd ask me such a thing."

Daemon mutters something in High Valyrian again.

"Of course, I had come see you myself," he looks at me through his lashes as rolls up his sleeves. My eyes dart to his sleeve tattoos and arm veins. When I begin to scrutinize the hairs on his skin, I realize I've stared to long.

In a panicked frenzy, I begin to unpack one of the paper bags. He, himself, brings out a stack of food containers and places them on the table.

The smell alone makes my stomach grumble.

Otto steps away and comes back with plates and cutlery. He places one plate in front of me, and has a prolonged stare at Daemon before placing the other in front of Daemon. He says, "I would hate for prince Daemon to be reduced to eating Sbam for dinner."

My expression drops. Daemon does not move an inch.

Otto turns to me and pulls out the chair. I take a moment before sitting down, because, really, did I have any other choice?

Otto opens the containers one by one and my mouth waters as I see lobster, lamb, and lemon cakes. He serves me meat and veggies, "I would assume you're not hurt like your friend."

I watch as he places food on my plate. I gulp before responding, "I'm just... tired."

"Then, I would also assume you'll not be attending work tomorrow," he takes my hand, putting the utensils in them. He scrapes a chair to my side and sits down next to me, urging me to eat with a motion.

I look at Mr. Hightower, "oh no- I will! I will-"

"You won't," he raises a hand, "see to it you're well rested."

I turn to my plate, feeling a flurry in my stomach over his words.

"Are you not going to serve your prince?" Daemon cuts in, raising his brows.

The lamb I was about to eat drops back to my plate.

The two glare, as if willing the other to spontaneously combust.

Before anything else could happen, I stand and reach out to Daemon's plate. I squeak when both grab me by the wrist.

My throat tightens.

My heart races when Daemon stands, "release her."

Otto raises his brows and tilts his head, "sit back down."

I rip my wrists out of their grips. Thankfully, neither put up a fight.

They stare at each other for what felt like ages. My agitation rockets when I see my boss begin to fidget with his hands the way he did when he was annoyed and ready to do something drastic.

I give Daemon a panicked look and grab his wrist, "kostilus." Please.

Daemon clenches his fist.

I continue to beg him until he sits.

I squeak when he grabs my chair by the seat and pulls me towards him. He mutters, "kesan daor emagon ao va bona run." I will not have you near that thing.

I turn to Director Hightower; I could see his annoyance building.

Fuck.

"Miste-" "Enjoy your meal then," he speaks as he stands. He grabs his coat and points, "I've bought some first aid things. I'm sure your friend can help you put that away."

I move to stand but Daemon stops me. He looks up at Otto in disgust, "do mind the steel contraptions on your way out."

I snap at Daemon, eyeing him hotly. He places a hand over my legs, ensuring I do not evade him. I watch as Mr. Hightower heads for the door, and in a split second decision, I turn to the prince and kiss him on the lips.

He is evidently taken aback, but it only takes him another second to get into it. Once he's put his guard down, I rip away from him and chase after my boss just as he exits my apartment.

"MR. HIGHTOWER!"

Otto turns around. I huff as I meet him just outside my door, "I'm really sorry about him. He's... he's just like that."

"You're not responsible for the actions of others," he retorts, nonchalant.

"I know. But still-"

"You are responsible for the company you keep," he adds.

I brush my silver hair back, "and you're not responsible for my well-being."

He snorts and shakes his head, "I'm your superior."

I press my lips into a thin line, deciding not to get into this conversation right now, "that, you are, Director."

We stare at each other for a moment. I examine his well-ironed suit, noticing how he didn't bother to fix his tie or buttons any more.

"I'll-"

"Is he not-" Daemon kicks the door open.

My eyes widen, "DAEMON-"

"-fucking gone yet?!" he points Dark Sister in an offensive stance. I yelp when he swings his weapon and scratches the door.

Otto's fight or flight instincts kick in and he takes flight down the hall.

"DAEMON-" I scream. I duck down and grab him by the torso, "STOP IT!"

Daemon screams out in High Valyrian. He laughs and lowers his sword, "yeah, you better run."

#daemon fanfic #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon angst #daemon fluff #daemon targaryen fluff #daemon x reader #daemon x you #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen angst #daemon targaryen x you #daemon x modern!reader #hotd time travel au #hotd au #daemon crackfic #harwin fanfic #harwin strong fanfic #house of the dragon fanfic #otto hightower fanfic #otto fanfic

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glorious-spoon · 8 months ago

Text

to loosen his grip [9-1-1 | Buck/Eddie]

~1k words | eddie & tommy; pre-relationship eddie/buck

spec fic for 7x04

The thing is, Eddie's not stupid.

Eddie's not stupid, and Buck's about as subtle as a brick to the face on a good day. He can't help it. Everything he's feeling comes spilling out of him; keeping it inside seems as impossible for him as holding the tide back with a leaky sieve. It's not something Eddie relates to that much, honestly. If anything, he's got the opposite problem. He crushes everything he's feeling into a tight little knot and holds onto it with white knuckles until he can't hold on anymore. It lost him Shannon—would have lost him Shannon even if she'd lived—and it nearly lost him both his job and his sanity in the end. He's still learning how to loosen his grip.

Buck still needs to learn how to get a grip, like, at all.

So yeah, Eddie knows. Not right away; he doesn't really think anything of it when he picks Tommy up from the hanger and Buck is there. In the truck, he watches Buck's receding figure in the rearview mirror for a moment before Tommy says, "Not trying to poach Evan from the 118, I promise."

He's laughing about it a little bit. Eddie scoffs and says, "Buck? You'd have to pry him out of that house before he'd go anywhere else."

He doesn't mention the lawsuit. That's water long under the bridge now, and it's not a time in his life he likes to think back on that much. But he knows it's true; Buck can say whatever he wants about keeping his options fluid, but when he finds people and a place he wants to keep, he hangs onto them.

Tommy is good company, anyway. It's something he's missed, since the Army: the easy camaraderie over beers, sitting in a shouting crowd in Vegas, shooting the shit in a bar afterward. Tommy's got a lift, and he brings his abuelo's Chevelle over, and it's an easy slide from that into a half-casual bout of muay thai, and Eddie has missed that, too: sparring just for fun, just for the hell of it, not for the money or because his demons were going to claw themselves out of his chest with bloody nails otherwise.

"See you've caught some lead," Tommy observes once they're done, bruised and a little breathless, shirtless on the bench in his garage. Eddie caps his Gatorade and glances up, and for a second he doesn't even know what Tommy is talking about until he nods at Eddie's right shoulder and asks, "That from overseas?"

Eddie touches the bullet scar, a long-healed dimple by now. It's not that noticeable anymore, at least from the front. The surgical scars from his thoracotomy are still more obvious, but even they've faded.

"Oh, no," he says. "I mean, yeah, I did, but this one was right here in L.A."

"Right, the sniper," Tommy agrees. "Shit. I remember seeing that Captain Nash caught a bullet. Didn't realize you were the other one from his house that got shot."

"Yeah, well." Eddie shrugs, uncapping his Gatorade again. "It was a long time ago."

He likes that, too. Talking about it with someone who never saw the bullet hole, only the scar. Talking about it with someone who's never had his blood in his mouth, who never knelt above him in a speeding truck and begged him to hang on.

He lied to Buck about it, because Buck's so close to it that he might as well have been shot too. It's easier like this, because Tommy isn't wounded by the memory; Tommy shrugs and asks if he wants to grab a pizza after this, and Eddie slings a towel over his shoulder and lets Tommy pull him to his feet, and they have pizza and a couple more beers, and it's easy. He's missed easy. He thinks he deserves to have something easy, for a change.

"I mean, I think it's great," Buck says, apropos of pretty much exactly nothing a couple of days later. "You can never have too many friends, you know?"

He's vibrating with that exact same anxious energy that Eddie remembers from his first day at the 118, when Buck seemed one wrong move away from pissing on the exercise equipment or maybe shoving him down the stairs. It awakens some puckish little part of Eddie that can't help but needle him. You're standing in the wrong light, man, as if he's ever in his life had an opinion about photography lighting, but it got Buck to bristle and snap like a wounded dog, all electric fury, and Eddie liked that, too, for reasons that he understands better now than he did back then.

So he shrugs, and he says lightly, "You know, it's like that thing when you meet somebody and you just click. You know what I mean?"

It's a jab, and not a very subtle one. He still remembers standing in the sunlight and listening to Buck tell him that Natalia saw him, after Eddie watched him hang there in the rain and felt his chest unmoving beneath his palms and sat through those endless hours in the fucking hospital waiting for him to wake up. After Eddie brought him home, and listened to his quiet confession in his kitchen, and tried as well as he knew how to hold Buck's still-beating heart gently.

But sure. Natalia saw him. For all of four months, apparently.

He thinks he wants Buck to flinch and snap back, just a little. It's not the place for it—they're in the middle of a goddamn call—but he's stupid about Buck. Always has been.

Buck doesn't flinch. He sags instead, his mouth downturned, and he mutters, "Yeah. Yeah, I really do."

And it's something they should talk about, maybe, but then Ravi calls up for more slack, and there are other things to focus on for the time being.

#911 #911 spoilers #911 speculation #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #tommy kinard #petty eddie? petty eddie #sliding this one JUUUUST under the wire lol #my fic

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stubz · 7 months ago

Text

Drill Day

'Attention participants, the drill will be starting in 1 minute. Take this time to prepare yourselves and to remember that everything that will happen is a simulation. Nothing can or will legitimately hurt you. Should you wish to stop the simulation tap the centerpiece of your vest and you will escorted off, should you be unable to do so simply say 'moon' and you will escorted off.'

"Okay the sound system is good, the holograms and drones are a go, and our actors are ready."

"I still don't know why we need actors when we have perfectly good holograms and drones." Glip didn't want to admit but she was a little hurt that Calis and the Captain didn't trust her work.

"We've been over this. As good as your holograms are they aren't physical which can lower the realism and while your drones are physical they can can be too predictable which is something we don't want. Hence the actors."

"Doubt they'll even be convincing." she grumbled.

To Glip's annoyance and Quip's entertainment the actor's where in fact convincing.

"What are you doing you idiot?! Your in a supply closet with tons of stuff around to use and you use a towel?? You deserve to be captured by enemy forces."

The poor Vrool get's tackled to the ground by an actor who roars in their face, fake fangs and mandibles making them ink themselves.

"Aw buddy, aw there we go! Good sportsmanship actor!" the actor uses the towel to clean the Vrool best they can before finding them a new uniform to change into them a before sending them to the 'jail' set up.

"Shlip who did they hire for this?" honestly this was some of the best simulation acting she's seen in a while.

"Some random ship members who had too much time and was down for a free dinner on Cap."

"Huh, any apexes?"

"Oh yeah, like two thirds of them. Those big ones dressed like a Mors Crawlers? That's a tighalax and a rextalian."

"Great asteroids no wonder those orcs were shaking."

"Yep," he said popping the p. "almost as terrifying as the real thing."

"Wait wait wait, hold the shlipping communicator, we got younglings doing this?"

"Oh quiznack. . .well it's probably gonna be toned down right, right?" he asked looking at his co-worker.

"Yeah, yeah it should be. Look. Like half the actors are leaving...leaving only the scariest ones left." they looked at each other concerned.

"CAAAPPPTAAAIN??"

"What!? Damnit Quip and Glip don't yell into the comms!"

"Are we actually sending younglings into this??"

"Isn't this like youngling endangerment?"

"The kids have been briefed about this and their parents signed off on this. Perfectly legal and safe. I also brought in some experts on this."

"Experts on scaring children?" who the shlip does that??

"Just do your jobs."

...

"OH MY GODS..HOW THE ACTUAL SHLIP?!"

"how the deq are these kids fine with this..."

Said younglings are being chased by actors, dressed as Mors Crawlers and Domitors, the actors giving them very little breathing room.

One of them swipe at the younglings with their prosthetic claws, catching on the little ones clothes. They yank back and the child is sent sprawling towards the jaws of the Domitor, the child's vest lights up red. They're out.

Some more children get caught by claws, tails, and wings. Each one of them are out.

The remaining few duck into an open vent too small for the predators to follow. They claw and roar at the entrance.

"HA! Can't get them now, score one nothing for the younglings!"

"Nope, look at screen 3."

While the actors at the entrance roared and thrashed a few of them ran through the halls until reaching the other side of the vent. Just as the children were coming out.

They could run but to where? Back into the vent? Forward into their pursuers?

Well they tried both.

The largest and strongest charged forward while the smallest ran back.

While the larger and stronger ones were from species known for their power and abilities, they were still younglings going against adults. After some struggling their vests turned red.

Only a handful of younglings reached the vent without getting caught. The ones inside were safe...for now.

....

'Only 5 minutes before the simulation is over. 5 minutes.'

"Well, looks the kids win this one."

"Good for them. They earned it."

"Yeah-hold up...what are they doing?"

The actors were...breaking the wall. They had grabbed chairs and any heavy objects they could and were using them to break down the wall.

"IS THIS ALLOWED?!"

"THERE'S NO WAY IT IS....gods wrath it is...JUST LET THE KIDS HAVE THIS!!"

When a foot of the vent was now revealed they grabbed it and started to pull. The other side, now aware of what was happening, started to push and increase their efforts in grabbing the younglings.

"They're pulling it...oh my gods they're pulling it out of the actual wall!"

"IT'S 15 FEET LONG THOUGH!!"

"HOW MUCH TIME IS LEFT?!"

"2 MINUTES."

Inch by inch the predators pulled out sections of the vent. Almost a third of the way done. The hole left behind now big enough to send over their smallest predator on the other side.

"BODY CAM BODY CAM"

"I'M DOING IT I'M DOING IT"

The beast crawled as fast as it could through the tunnel. The younglings yell and kick at its claws.

A child screams while being dragged out of the body cams view.

"They're dead."

"Yep, you owe me five tix."

"No, I betted on the other rextali-"

"MOON!"

Quip and Glip quieted. Then went into a flurry finding the right camera, searching for the child who said the safe word.

They found the child; Zyz, age 6 years old, species rextalian, being comforted by an actor. Face pressed into the adults fake fur while stroking the child's spine with their palms. Keeping their face and claws out of Zyz's view.

All the other actors around them softly put down the vent pieces and children already caught.

They then step back and then kneel or crouch. Claws are up or by their sides.

The children go to one another, checking up on each other, a few check on Zyz.

One of the actors slowly approaches Zyz on their knees. Hand out holding a tissue.

A tiny hand takes it. Along with the tissue.

And just like that all the other adults scoop up the children. Some are cradled into their chests, needing comfort and to not have them see their masks. Others are put onto their shoulders and backs, not as riled up or in a more playful mood. Some are tossed and dangled, to put them at ease despite the adrenaline coursing through their small bodies.

Soon the sniffles and hiccups are replaced by laughter and cheers.

The claws are replaced by warm sweaty hands.

Fangs and mandibles are replaced by sweaty smiling faces.

Wings and extra appendages are replaced by children hugging the tired actors.

"...they were HUMANS?!?"

"Hey it's Max! ...Ohhh that's whose a professional in scaring kids. That makes sense now."

#shlip is a space curse word #this is influenced by me learning that Maleficent's daughter was the one to play young Aurora #also by the video of that little girl who loved the monster costume #sometimes i play as a monster when with kids and they love it but sometimes it gets to be too much #so i either tone it down by kneeling and being quiet or by giving them space/a break #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #the adventures of kim and max running a space child centre #not gonna lie I also get pretty competitive when chasing them and trying to catch them to the point where I will almost tackle them #or use their friends as bait to lure in the faster ones

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flippinpancakes64 · 5 months ago

Note

The cullens with a wendigo reader?

The Cullens with a Wendigo! Reader

Ngl I felt like Bella researching vampires when I was looking this up lol. I got all of my information from random websites that I found so hopefully this is correct. You would think I would know more about them since I've watched Wendigoon's Cryptid Iceberg like 30 times but whatever

From what I've found, a Wendigo is a creature that feeds off of humans. Some depictions say that it is a fearsome creature with glowing eyes, fangs, and claws. In other depictions it is a spirit that possesses a human host and forces them to cannibalize others. Other times it has been described as a humanoid creature that is characterized by a foul odor or sudden chill.

For this story, I went the route of the last one with the humanoid figure and the sudden chill no nasty smells

Thank you for requesting and I hope you like this!

Edward:

He has never met someone like you before

So he's curious

Of course, he is wary

But he's still curious anyway

Maybe you've been pulling the same thing where you go to various highschools to blend in

Or maybe he met you another way

But in either scenario, he is so curious

Will ask you so many questions

He's infatuated

It's not everyday that you're not the only supernatural entity in the room

He doesn't judge you for what you do to humans

He understands because he used to do that too

Well not exactly but you know what I mean

He feels like he can be his full self and that he doesn't have to hide anything

Inspiring

Alice:

I have a feeling that her visions wouldn't be able to see you

She can't see any of the wolves after all

So maybe it's that she has trouble seeing species other than humans and vampires

Either way she is caught off guard

But after the initial shock wears off, she's so curious

Like Edward, she wants to know everything

Where you've been, where you're going, what it feels like, if you were transformed or born that way

Literally everything

She would love going hunting with you

You hunting humans and her hunting animals

She loves your differences

Jasper:

He has seen a lot of stuff

He's very well traveled

At least as far as North America goes

So I feel like he would have encountered another Wendigo at some point

So your existence isn't a surprise to him

Mostly just the fact that you're here

He's honestly the most civil

He knows what you are, what you do, and he's okay with that

You're not a danger to him or anyone else he cares about

Respectful king

He will defend you to the other Cullens if he needs to

He understands it's your nature and you can't control it

He definitely understands not being able to control yourself

Rosalie:

She's not particularly interested at first

She's actually a bit annoyed

If we're looking at the aspect of the legend that says that you stink like rotting flesh and death.... she's a little more than put off

She's very vocal about her disdain for how much the wolves stink

So she would not tolerate that in her house

But if you don't smell like actual death... she can come around

Another one who's curious about you

But she's a lot less vocal about her curiosity

She's still a little annoyed

Mostly just about the fact that you eat humans

She thinks it's nasty

But other than that and her curiosity she's just sort of indifferent

Emmett:

He loves it

He loves challenging other creatures (and winning)

He doesn't see you as a threat or a danger

He just sees you as someone new to have fun with

Definitely loves going hunting with you

And seeing who can get the largest prey

He loves to know all of the gross details

Wants to know what people taste like to you

Edward thinks it's gross and told him to ask those questions outside of the house

Is another one who loves all of the differences between you two

Esme:

Very wary

She has no clue what to do

She's never met anything but vampires and werewolves

Was about to faint after she learned that you eat humans

Like she knows that vampires feed off of humans too

But not like the whole thing, just the blood

She's honestly a little disgusted

She doesn't tell you that of course

Or let you know that she feels that in any way

But she comes around eventually

Everybody needs to eat to live

And some people need to eat other things

She just prefers to not think about your dietary habits <3

Carlisle:

Mr. Questions

It actually gets annoying how much he asks you

He's probably met a Wendigo before, being so old and all

It's just pretty unlikely that he got to ask all of the questions that he wanted to

Literally sits you down for a whole day to perform testing on you

And he does everything

Blood samples, skin samples, hair samples, movement tests, food tests, an x-ray, an MRI

Every test he could get his hands on at the clinic

So inquisitive

But he's also very respectful

You can't gross him out

Another one who doesn't judge you at all

He understands that you need to do what you need to do

Respectful king

Vampire! Bella:

Cue the google searches

She acts super chill about it

"Oh yeah I heard that you were... um... something. Yeah that's totally cool"

But on the inside she is dying to ask you questions

But she remembers how closed off Edward was to questions about his nature and doesn't want to push you away

So she just... watches

She follows after you when you're hunting just to watch

She peeks into your room a couple times

If you notice her being a stalker just tell her to stop lol

And then answer any question she has

But she comes prepared

"So... where are your big antlers? And why aren't you 15 feet tall?"

#alice cullen #bella swan #carlisle cullen #carlisle cullen x reader #edward cullen #esme cullen #jasper cullen #jasper hale #alice cullen x reader #bella swan x reader #edward cullen x reader #jasper cullen x reader #jasper hale x reader #esme cullen x reader #emmett cullen x reader #rosalie hale #rosalie cullen #rosalie hale x reader #rosalie cullen x reader

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bisexual-horror-fan · 1 year ago

Note

Bex would you be down to write a dom ethan and sub reader type dynamic smut? This isn’t a request just wondering if it’s something you’re into 😻

Anon of course this is something I am into. First time writing more dominant Ethan! I hope you like it Anon, I haven't posted a fic in over a fucking month! Everything has been so hetic and nuts, I've been working on this behind the scenes and I am hoping this gets me back into the swing of things! Let's go!

---

Now Or Never.

---

Rating. Explicit. Length. 2.5K. Ethan Landry X FEM! AFAB! Reader. Warnings: DUB CON! Stalking. Creepy And Delusional Behaviour From Ethan. Obsessive Ethan. Man Handling. Degradation. Vaginal Fingering. Vaginal Sex. Raw Sex. Implied Cream Pie. Hold The Moan. Don’t Get Caught.

---

Ethan has never been the kind of guy to really go after what he wants. He is much more passive, go with the flow, he doesn’t want to upset the apple cart nor ruin the image that people have of him. He knows it isn’t the best practice, he wants to get out of that, he wants to start doing things for him, maybe he should have made the call to start standing up for himself before agreeing to help his family avenge his brothers' death via a complex murder plot. However, Ethan was committed now, and he wasn’t going to back out, more importantly he saw no way how to, and so he stays.

Assuming an identity in a new place and pretending to be someone he isn’t to infiltrate a group of people, pretend to be their friend just to be close enough to kill them was stressful. It felt like it was consuming his whole life, losing who he actually was in some regard, he needed a distraction, something to help give him purpose, ease his worries and the harsher edges of it all, or he’d go nuts.

You were his outlet.

Stalking just went along with what he did in service of the grand plan, you were not part of it, not involved, but you caught his eye in one of his classes. The first time, he was just going the same direction as you, he swears to God, he wasn’t being a creep, at first. That did not last long. He started to watch you, learn your schedule, get into your routine, and whenever he wasn’t having to continue his charade he was consumed getting lost in you.

He knows where you live, he knows your class times, the coffee shop you frequent, your order at said shop, he knows what soap you use, the part-time job you hold and that one of your biggest pet peeves is when the tag in an item of clothing itches against your skin.

He’s been watching you for an amount of time that he is sure if you knew would make you very fucking uncomfortable. You seemingly hadn’t caught on to what he was up to, which was good, it meant he could keep it up without worry, watching you living your life while you were totally oblivious. To be fair, how observant you are or are not, is not what he liked best about you, honestly what he liked is that you were the opposite to him in a lot of ways. No real responsibilities other than the ones you wanted to have, just living the way you want to, he felt some modicum of jealousy over that, he imagines what life could be like if he could get out of his current situation and have a more normal existence with you, it’s a good escape, but it’s just that, a fantasy, an unattainable one.

It is getting harder and harder to ignore the situation he is stuck in, the same way it is becoming impossible to ignore the clawing feeling of dread in his chest. He wanted to stop feeling so helpless, wanted a sense of control, to feel like he was living for himself, even in a tiny sense.

Time is running out, and he needs to correct this, or he might fuck up everything without some serious stress relief.

Ethan learned about the Halloween party you were going to attend, and he thought maybe that would be good, to go and cut loose a little while near you. That plan changed, morphed, got away from him once he was actually there and near you in the costume you chose.

He tried to keep distance, to just watch but between observing you having fun, the mounting pressure and the frankly bordering on painful erection in his jeans that would not stop throbbing finally a piece inside of him broke.

You had to know what you did to him. You had to know the effect you had on him, it was like you were aware you were being watched, doing this on purpose, it’s maddening. He could crush the red solo cup in his hand as he observes you dance with a friend, the way your hand rests on his arm, your head tips forward to press against his shoulder as you laugh, the sway of your hips, it should be him, why not him? He stews in his thoughts and the anger, the unfairness and the budding arousal threatening to boil over inside himself.

He’d brought his Ghostface costume along, had it in his bag for something he needed to do later, it was like he acted on autopilot. He sneaks off, he got into the costume, and then he waits for the right moment.

You are on your way to the bathroom, but not the main one people use, no these were your friends, and you knew about the lesser used one, he knew about it because of course, creep that Ethan was, he followed you there. When you are close enough he strikes, his hand over your mouth, his other arm loops around your middle, and he drags you the rest of the way to the bathroom. The door is already ajar, it’s no trouble to get you inside, a backwards swing of his foot to the wood makes the door close. The light is dim, there is a nightlight plugged into the wall outlet near the counter top by the mirror, so someone stumbling from the basement guest bedroom can find their way to the bathroom he assumes.

You are struggling against him, squirming, muffled sounds trying to get out from behind his hand, but he is struck by just this. He is touching you for the first time, holding you, he draws you closer, makes it so you are flush against him. He’s thought about this countless times, you are warm and softer than anticipated, he can fucking smell you and it is intoxicating. He is so caught up in this, taking in every detail and small movement, he presses his hips forward, grinds himself on you through the layers of jeans and black fabric as he smells your hair and then what you do next? Ethan never would have thought in a million years you’d respond like this, by your eyes closing and you grinding back, pressing your ass closer to him with a sound behind his hand that might sound like a moan if he let you express it fully.

You aren’t fighting him, not any longer, no you are rocking with him, trying to stimulate yourself in any way possible against him-

Oh.

You are better than he thought, he knew you were a slut, he’d seen you in your place, knew your porn search history and the collection of toys you owned, but to be down to fuck a masked stranger you hadn’t exchanged a single word with? You were a world-class whore, he was going to take advantage of this opportunity to the fullest.

He knows he doesn’t need to hold you so closely, his arm releases your mid-section, his hand slides down your body and between your legs and up the short skirt of the costume you wore, fingers press to your underwear. You are already wet enough he can feel it through the thin material and his gloves. Your hips buck, wanting to get closer, feel more of him, it feeds his ego and emboldens him, you want him, and he isn’t going to deny you.

He gets his glove off, he needs to feel you, skin on skin. His hand slides into your panties, his fingers dip as low as they can and feel the source of your extreme wetness, he presses, tease the hole carefully before his digits slide up through your folds, and he knows he finds what he needs when you gasp, head thrown back against his shoulder.

His hand works, fingers circle over your clit, and you inhale sharply through your nose, brows furrow, and he watches you in the mirror. The way the pleasure plays out on your face as he teases you, he enjoys how your body responds, the small tremors of your limbs, the twisting and squirming of your form, the way your clit throbs under his touch as he presses harder.

He needs to feel you inside. Fingers move, you whine, he dives inside, and he curls them, it causes the biggest reaction out of you yet. Your body pitching forward, hands on the counter and your walls clenching around his fingers. You are so soaked, soft, hot and so thoroughly alive. He can barely move them inside of you, but he does, he slips them in and out, presses to that same spot that got such a big reaction out of you, and he moans quietly, he swears he can feel you getting wetter.

In and out, flex and push, you writhe, and he wants to hear you, he pulls his hand away, but before he does, he has one finger over your lips, that classic symbol of “shhh” and you nod, eyes half lidded and lust filled. You let out quiet moans, his palm grinds against your clit as his fingers fuck in and out, he can’t take much more. The simple movement, the motion, how hard he is rocking against your ass, he wants to be buried in you, wants to fuck you.

So he does.

His hand moves, fingers pulled out, and your eyes had slipped closed again, at the loss of him they open, confused and when you see him pulling the robe up you get the hint. You make your own move, shaky hands lift off the counter and your fingers hook under your skirt, you tug down your underwear and you step one foot out, leaving them hooked around your other ankle. He has the robe up and his pants open finally, the relief of pressure on his straining erection has him letting out a small sigh. His hands are on you, he adjusts you, one knee on the counter and pushing you forward, your hands braced on the sink, and you adjust too, your hips tilt and soon with a hand on your back and the other on the base of his cock he is lining up.

It’s rushed and faster than he wants, but he just wants so much, it’s been so fucking long he can't stop it, can't help himself. He feels you, the heat coming off of you, the wetness on his tip, he lingers for only a moment before his hips move involuntarily, and then he is helpless. The first half inch pops in with no resistance, and you are perfect, you feel incredible it makes him let go of himself, hands lock on your hips, and he pushes further, slides deeper, and he watches you in the mirror. The way your mouth falls open, the exhalation, the way you tense in some regards and relax in others, but mostly he can’t focus on much else other than how your cunt feels around him as he settles in, finally to the base.

He soaks you in for a second, you are more impatient than he, you whine again, needier than before, and you move first, pull your hips forward before sliding them back, and it makes any semblance of control break. He takes over, the grip on your hips tightens, and he pulls out almost totally before driving back in, you have to bite your lip to hold the moan back enough to not be overheard. The party is on the main floor, you are in the basement, but you are sure that he could make you alert everyone up there.

This was insanely hot for you, a masked stranger pulling you away and touching you, groping you, fucking you without you seeing his face or uttering a single word? Unbearably hot, his fingers were good, but even two minutes in his dick puts his hands to shame. He is greedy. He touches more, he didn’t touch you enough before, his other glove comes off, and he touches your legs, your thigh, a firm squeeze of your ass, he feels up your sides and your chest. You lean closer into his touch, moving still with him, loving the pace he took as he fucked you, rough and quick, he pulls the top of your costume down, exposes your tits, palms them, and you moan louder than you probably should.

This is good, but it could be better still, your hand is between your legs, you stroke your clit as he fucks you, the stretch of him is delicious, you find yourself gasping, arching your back a bit more so he hits that spot inside just a bit harder, a touch better. You are so close to the mirror you are in danger of fogging it up, but you want to look at him, you’d been staring at his masked face this whole time, wondering who is under it.

You move back, press yourself closer to him and away from the mirror, and you get this urge. This urge that you don’t question or think about. Your back is to his chest, he is still preoccupied with fucking you and rolling your nipples between his fingers, perfectly distracted, huffing and letting out small sounds of pleasures, groans, you reach back behind him and the move is fast. You push the hood back, fingers grip, and you pull and twist, the mask comes off. He’s shocked.

He was so consumed with the feeling of getting to have you, with the mounting pleasure, he even had his eyes closed like an idiot, you got the drop on him. He stopped, held deep, and your eyes met in the mirror.

He’s hot. Hotter than you thought possible, dark sweat soaked curls and hard eyes, pretty pink lips are wet and parted, he’s strong and has had no issue throwing you around and holding you down. The low orange light playing off your body and his face is going to be burned in your mind forever.

You don’t want him to stop, you want to keep going. You maintain eye contact, you move again, pull him out slightly before bucking back, he inhales hard, and you do it again, and again, slip more out and take him harder on every movement, and he comes back to himself.

You like this, like him, you liked him as a stranger doing this, but you were still into this now made it even better. He takes over again, he fucks you harder while still meeting your eyes in the mirror. He wasn’t going to stop now until you came around him, and he filled you up.

God, he needed this.

#BHF asks #BHF writing #Ethan Landry x reader #Scream 6 x reader #Ghostface x reader #HEY BITCHES I'M BACKKKKK #ENJOY IT #EAT UP

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ebongawk · 10 months ago

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pls show us how eddie would ask chrissy to marry him ❤️❤️❤️

The ring was burning a hole in his pocket.

The ring had, in fact, been burning a hole in his pocket for, like three goddamn months now. Because he'd been kinda-sorta-basically flying by the seat of his pants this entire relationship, up to and including his potential proposal, and three years of accidentally tripping and stumbling into all of the right messes with Chrissy made him think he could just buy the goddamn thing and wait for the most opportune moment.

The ring itself was an unanticipated surprise. Eddie had been shopping for a new-to-him amp, and buying those off the belt was a mistake he'd never make again. Rewiring older models with newer technology was basically Henderson's forte, though, so every time he and Chrissy popped back into Hawkins to visit Wayne during their long stints on the road, Eddie had a couple projects that Dustin's eager little mitts made grabby hands at.

(If Eddie found another tech kid on the road, he was pretty sure Dustin would spit and hiss and claw the newbie's eyes out so he would never be able to touch Eddie's projects again. He fucking loved that little shit. Had no clue what he was gonna do when the kid went off to MIT in a few months.)

So, yeah. While Eddie had walked into that pawn shop with a singlemindedness, he'd still perused the aisles like a perfectly respectable patron.

And the ring had been right there. Grinning up at him from the display case a winking in the overhead lights when it caught his eye.

Chrissy was literally right up the street, struggling over which books she wanted to trade in at the used bookshop so she could read some new material. That was the worst part about being on the road – they never got to keep anything. Like, sure, yeah, they had some shit stored at Wayne's, but they couldn't pop into Indiana whenever Chrissy needed to drop off her books so they could fit new shit in the van.

If they could, Chrissy would have a veritable library by now. He'd told himself a year ago that, as soon as they hit a label, Corroded Coffin's first purchase would be Chrissy Cunningham's dream house so she could have shelves of books. The guys were all in begrudging agreement.

"Hey, uh," he'd said, grabbing the attention of the shopkeeper and pointing at the ring. "What's that?"

About six months ago, he and Chrissy had been walking a mall in search of a birthday present for Wayne when a jewelry store grabbed her attention. Eddie had kinda expected her to beeline for the engagement rings – and maybe that was his own underlying fantasy, honestly – but she hadn't. She'd gravitated toward birthstones, pointing out his and hers and Jeff's and Gareth's and Grant's and Wayne's, gushing about which looked best together in her opinion.

"That's a, uh, ring," the cashier said, looking down at the thing. "With, y'know, stones and shit."

"Very fuckin' descriptive, man, thanks," Eddie responded. "How much?"

"For you, kid? Twenty bucks."

"I'll give you fifteen for it and thirty for the amp."

"Deal."

He didn't even get a box. The guy had been 'fresh out', allegedly, so he'd given Eddie a little drawstring bag for it.

Which was fine. Easier to hide. He just had to remember to transfer it around his three pairs of jeans while they were doing laundry.

"Look, that's your birthstone," Chrissy had said that day at the mall. "A garnet. And mine's right there! Aquamarine!" She'd sighed. "If I had been born a day earlier, I would have been an amethyst. But our stones look pretty together, don't they?"

They did, in his humble opinion. And wouldn't you fucking know it, Eddie had found a garnet ring inlaid with two aquamarines on either side at a thrift store in fucking Norton, Kansas when they'd stopped at a motel for a couple days to rest before a show in Kansas City. He'd even had it assessed at a jeweler in Saint Paul a week later just to be sure.

The thing was legit. The jeweler had polished it and everything. From there, it was just actually proposing.

But, as the weeks wore on, Eddie had to wonder if his decision to wait for the right moment might've been a fucking mistake. What was the perfect moment? What if it'd already come and gone and he didn't even know it? What if it never happened and Chrissy got upset and left him before he had a chance? Did she even want to get married? They were still young, and, outside of her shitty high school relationship (that predated her amazing high school relationship with him, thanks so much), Chrissy had never really dated around. What if he popped the question and she laughed in his face?

(She wouldn't. He knew she wouldn't. But, shit, what if, y'know?)

So, yeah. That fucking ring had been sitting in his pocket for, like, ninety-seven days, whispering platitudes and anxieties in equal measure. Building him up and tearing him down at every opportunity, like it found joy in watching him rise higher and fall farther.

Or maybe that was his own stupid brain.

They'd been booked on a mini-tour to open for another band that was just a few steps beyond Corroded Coffin. The money was kinda shit, but last night, at their show in Reno, a few people had been wearing the merch they'd sold weeks prior at a show in Vegas, and that had made Eddie feel like a goddamn superstar. He'd played his fucking heart out, and Chrissy said they sold out at the merch booth before the headliner even took the stage.

He'd even been asked for autographs. What the fuck?

Afterward, he and Chrissy were squeezed together into their motel room's bathtub. It was entirely too small for the both of them, but Chrissy sat between his bent knees, letting the hot water and scented bubbles relax them after what felt like a ridiculously long night. As though he could ever really relax with Chrissy's naked body all wet and pressed against his.

Her head was on his chest, listening to the slow thudding of his heart as the radio played almost imperceptibly in the background. Chrissy had gone so far as to light a few candles, and on the floor next to them was an open bottle of wine they were taking turns sipping.

It had to be somewhere around two in the morning, and Chrissy was probably exhausted. But she knew Eddie was always off-the-walls after a show, so corralling him into a shared bath was to help him wind down.

"You did amazing tonight," she said, her fingertips tapping against his shin where her hand rested. "All of you guys, but you especially. You were electric up there."

"Did you even look at the other guys?"

"Of course! It's hard not to, but I always look at you the most. Promise."

"Pretty sure you're legally required to say that, as I'm the one who makes you co––"

"Eddie."

Laughing, Eddie pressed his lips to her crown. "Thank you, sweetness."

"I'm serious. Like, I think that was the show, you know?"

He knew what she meant. Their discovery show. The one where some talent scout was hiding out in the crowd because he'd heard Corroded Coffin's name making the rounds. The one where they'd be getting a phone call first thing in the morning asking to meet at an agency.

Their we finally fucking made it show.

"Unlikely," Eddie said, wet fingers brushing a few strands of loose hair back over her ear. "But I appreciate the vote of confidence."

Chrissy said nothing for a moment. Then, using some expert maneuvers won over years in dance and cheer, she pivoted, working her lithe little body until she was comfortably situated in his lap. Eddie's arms automatically wrapped around her, sinking lower into the water so she didn't go sliding off his slickened skin and into the faucet.

"You guys are amazing," she said without a hint of irony coloring her tone. Wet hands cupping his jaw, she nudged her nose against his. "You have a contagious stage presence and you play incredibly. There's no way you aren't going to make it. Got it?"

"Yeah?" Eddie asked, eyes on her lips. "You gonna be my little cheerleader the whole way?"

"I've been with you this far, haven't I?" she shot back, wearing that gorgeous grin he loved so much. "I'm not going anywhere, Eddie. You're stuck with me."

"Hey," Eddie said, affronted. "That's my line. Who's stuck with who?"

Wiggling her hips in his lap (which was... yeah, doing things), Chrissy smiled. "I think you're the one who's literally stuck here, love."

Tucking his thumb against her chin, Eddie just chuckled, drawing her in for a kiss that tasted of promise. Of this future she was certain would come to fruition, where they stood hand-in-hand as recognition fell upon the band. Because Chrissy had sacrificed so much for him, for all of them, and Eddie would be damned if he didn't have opportunity to return the favor.

Oh shit, he realized as she chased his lips for another kiss. This is it. This is the fucking moment.

And his pants are on the other side of the goddamn room.

Shit. Shit. Okay. He could make this work.

"Hey, uh." He smiled when she kissed him again, the wet skin of her squirming in his lap again as she made a little huff of disapproval. "Wait, wait, sweetness, hang on."

Chrissy blinked at him. One hundred percent caught off guard because Eddie had never turned down her advances before. (How could he? He had an actual goddess sitting naked in his lap. Who was he to tell her no when she wanted to, y'know, get closer?)

"Did I, um. Did I overstep?"

"No, fuck no, just, uh––" Grabbing Chrissy's long-handled loofa off the tub rim, Eddie set a firm hand on Chrissy's thigh, anchoring both of them as he leaned as far out of the tub as he could to drag his jeans toward them. Sloshing water out of the side and making Chrissy yelp his name as she grabbed his shoulders to hang on.

The handle slipped from his grasp, clattering to the floor with one pant leg right there. Eddie leaned further out, stretching his fingertips as Chrissy squealed. He heard the water splashing, but that just seemed a small price to pay.

Whooping in excitement, he managed to get a small piece of denim between his middle and ring fingers, yanking the jeans across the floor and digging around in the pockets for that fucking bag.

"Eddie! They're gonna get all wet!"

"They'll dry," he responded, finally finding the stupid ring bag in his back pocket. He dropped the jeans uncaringly into the puddle he'd created, resettling Chrissy against him and tangling his hands in her hair as he kissed her question of what he was doing off her lips.

"You know I love you, right?" he asked, a little breathless from the combination of half-crawling out of the tub and the spark from their kiss. Chrissy, wide-eyed and confused, giggled a little when she nodded. "Like, more than anything?"

"Yes, Eddie, I know."

"And I wanna spend, y'know, the rest of my goddamn life with you. You know that, too?"

Chrissy blinked, her smile fading with parted lips as realization seemed to dawn new horizons across her face.

"I-I mean, yeah," she said after he waited a second for her answer. "Eddie, what––"

"I, uh, picked this up a while ago," he admitted, brandishing the tiny bag. "Been waiting for, like, the perfect moment, I guess. But, I dunno. Kinda realized that, maybe all our moments are perfect, y'know?"

He opened the bag, tilting it so the ring fell into his opposite palm. Her eyes widened, jaw falling slack as she gasped.

"I just want to make more moments with you, Chrissy," Eddie said earnestly. "Before and after a quick trip to the altar, I mean."

"Oh, my God," she breathed, trembling fingertip reaching out and gently stroking the gold band. "Are you–– Are you serious?"

"You are the one thing in my life I am one-hundred-percent serious about, sweetness," Eddie replied, softly brushing a thumb against her cheek. She glanced at him, so briefly he almost missed it, but she couldn't take her eyes off the ring. "Marry me?"

"Okay," she said, voice still breathless. Blinking, she shook her head as though she were falling out of a trance, her eyes instantly filling with tears that spilled over her cheeks, mixing with the water of their bath. "I mean, yes, yes, of course, Eddie, oh, my God!"

Throwing her arms around him, Eddie heard more water as it splashed over the side of the tub. It made him laugh, burying his face in her hair and holding her close as she cried into his neck.

"I love you," she sobbed, pulling back and letting him open his fist so she could take the ring. "Oh, my God, and it's our birthstones!" The realization made her cry harder, and Eddie had to help her get the ring on her finger. "You remembered!"

"Of course I did," he chuckled, his own eyes wet with the amount of love he felt for this girl. "I remember everything you say to me."

"We both know that's not true."

"Okay, well, I make an effort, at least!"

She laughed through her sobs, pulling him in and kissing him soundly. Crying, laughing harder, then crying some more between desperately locked lips. Completely soaking his jeans next to the tub, but Eddie couldn't care less.

He had his fiancée in his lap.

"I love you," she gasped between kisses. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

"Love you, too, little wife," Eddie grinned. "So much."

Yeah. Perfect fucking moment.

#hellcheer #eddissy #eddie x chrissy #eddie munson #stranger things #chrissy x eddie #ask meme #hellcheer drabble #lil marriage proposal #anon ask #ebongawk ask #sorry this took 84 years anon

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ihopesocomic · 8 months ago

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Hi! New reader here! I just got to the part where Hope tries to open her injured eye. It was portrayed as rly cloudy, but I’m not sure how it got that cloudy so fast? It had happened Very recently, and while Vicious’s claws definitely damaged the cornea, idk if that was enough time for scar tissue to have accumulated so thick. It was more likely that it would have been swollen or misshapen, but not opaque/milky yet. As well, though the scar/injury definitely would make her ‘legally blind’ in that eye, it’s highly unlikely even w that damage that she would lose 100% of her vision. Corneal Opacity obstructs light/vision, but it’s quite likely that she would still be able to see brash lights and shadows, maybe some shapes (likely clearer toward the edges of vision, but perpetually out of focus there)

I point this out as someone who is blind in one eye myself from an injury as a child, and that generally we don’t really like the portrayal of “cloudy eyes=blind” in media. It’s usually used as visual shorthand, but bc ppl see it used that way, they think that’s what all blind ppl look like. I’ve gotten ppl who’ve tried and ‘caught’ some of my friends as ‘not blind’ bc their eyes weren’t white/cloudy, which is generally, not the case unless there is serious injury or disease in the eye. As for the 100% vision, we also get ppl who will wave or clap in our faces to try and ‘catch’ us (bc for some reason ppl just think ppl fake being blind for ‘benefits’—what benefits??) and we will always flinch bc 1) that’s the normal reaction, it’s sound and air close to your face, your body will instinctively flinch away from it. And 2) bc many of us still have some amount of useable vision, and getting that close is something even someone w very low percentage of useable vision could detect.

Not gonna ask you to redraw it of course, that’s entirely up to you, and it’s an ongoing, high-intensive webcomic and the page in question is quite a bit back there, but if we see it again plus the POV of Hope’s vision, if you drew a rough lining of that half of the picture, then filled it in with intense white/gray grittiness, more concentrated in the middle and a bit less on the extreme sliver of the outer eye (in Hope’s case, I doubt there would be too much of the eye that wasn’t covered by the scar tissue, Lion claws are huge and thick and at this point she’s had plenty of time to form a significant scar) and the vague impression of light/shadow, that’s a more accurate portrayal of blindness. The eye itself is almost guaranteed to be misshapen, that is, the iris and pupil, not the orb itself (it would have had to puncture through the cornea, and if that was the case she’d not really have an eye) something like a droopy part near the direction of the scar, and a bit more of an oval-ish shape (pics for reference can help if you can do that, otherwise not making it too extreme but enough that it’s visibly a scar and injury in the eye. These are all just suggestions! If you decide you’d like to do a more stylized version of this, just making the iris a bit raised and a little wider at the ends of the scar, and for POV just airbrush w a gritty texture and put some vague shading.

I really love this comic, and it’s portrayal of disability (Hope is just. I’ll cry) but that was just something that nicked me a bit. It’s hard to do everything right, and really hard for a personal project! You’ve done amazing, and honestly this is nitpicky of me I think, I just thought with the positive rep of limb loss I thought I’d give a little advice ig on blind rep, from a partially blind person myself. (thank you SO. MUCH. For not making her ‘mourn’ the limb she doesn’t have. She just doesn’t have it, it’s who she is. She’s not lesser or in parts bc of it, she deals w it, and though it’s still a disability and affects her as such, it’s not something she needs to cry over. She’s always been this way, and she’ll make it through.)

So, first of all: thank you so much for giving an informative and detailed input on this aspect of Hope's character. We truly appreciate it.

We've always intended to show Hope's eye injury gradually changing condition from her POV and her being able to open the eye slightly eventually, so we're not through with representing blindness or partial blindness through her.

As for your comments regarding what we've already shown, Cat did refer to references on that particular front as she did endeavour to get things accurate. While she is willing to admit that she may have got things wrong, the issue of people stereotyping blind individuals based on one form of how the condition presents itself doesn't mean that one form is not accurate or valid, if you feel me? The true issue here is people's ableism towards blind or partially blind individuals and assuming that a disability must present itself in a certain way to "count" (i.e. in a way they're familiar/comfortable with when stfu it's not about you?) when disabilities in general do not work like that.

But I also completely get that there is a need to break down the assumption that all eye conditions work like this. I know what it feels like to be held to a certain standard by my disabilities and it sucks. If there's one thing worse than just flat-out intolerant ableism towards disabled individuals, it's ableism under the guise of 'i understand your condition better than you do bc i saw it on TV once' ugh But yeah, we've put a pin in the helpful description you've provided and will take this on board moving forward because - like you've pointed out - this is how eye injuries actually work. We especially needed this input since we planned on having Hope being able to have the eye open eventually too. Cat certainly wants to go in and fix that panel with her eye opening in the relevant panel and make it not-cloudy, and what you said about the greyscale and filter idea for the panel afterwards where it's her POV will also be implemented. Thank you again for this advice and for explaining it so well, we always appreciate input like this. <33 And thank you again (again) for the kind comments on Hope's character. It's exactly why we opted to not have her injure the limb like Nothing did and have her be born with the condition instead. Not that we're opposed to that kind of representation, as we intend to cover it somewhat with Bronze and the loss of his limb and how he and the other lions of the Thundering Mountains adapted to it. But yeah, we felt like doing things differently a tad with our main protagonist. c: - RJ

#ask #ask us stuff #rj answers #comic feedback #hopeful #golden grove

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le-trash-prince · 4 months ago

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This Love Doesn't Have Long Beans Ep 6 Thoughts

I'm caught between "I hate everything going down at the restaurant" and "I love everything going on between Methas and JJ"

I'm sorry y'all but I cannot stand Kluer, he's too fucking much for me. Man puts on a sweet and innocent face, meanwhile he's scheming for Plawan to get his heart broken, and he CAN'T EVEN OWN UP TO IT. I've got a personal bias against him tho coz he stares at Plawan way too much and it makes my autistic ass uncomfortable dfgkdfg he reminds me of someone irl who does this to me, and I hate it, so sorry Kluer but it's personal.

Oab did try to tell Khaosuay about him and Plawan, but she refused to hear it, and he tried to be straight with her about rejecting her, and she didn't want to hear it either. Out of all four ppl in this messy love square, he's the only one who's really trying to do right by the people around him (which is not saying much coz the bar is on the GROUND with everyone here looking out for their own interests), but you can't try to make everyone happy in this situation. Also unfortunately for you, Oab, one of these people walked out on you and the other has been lying to you for months

really feels like Khaosuay is just panicked about her dad and projecting all that onto Oab by trying to dig her claws into him and keep the life she had before. Which is really unpleasant, but like, I get where she's coming from. But stop that, girl, please.

I'm also really curious what Kluer told her on the phone, if it was just about her dad or if he was like "your dad is dying and this guy is trying to steal Oab even though he still loves you" like how far does Kluer's manipulation go

Also Kluer trying to kiss a completely wasted and possibly unconscious Plawan is a No Thanks from me LMFAO

Honestly I think their date was a good example of why Plawan gravitates towards harsh, no-nonsense people like JJ and Oab because a "I'm going to only tell you the things you want to hear" person like Kluer is just gonna let him get trashed in public

like JJ was absolutely in the right to tell Plawan to take this chance and move on from Oab because if he is hurting over Oab paying a little attention to Khaosuay right now, he is going to be DEVASTATED when the consequences of his own actions catch up to him.

Anyways okay METHASJJ GOD THE DESPERATION IN METHAS' VOICE WHEN JJ WAS QUITTING... WHEN HE KEPT CALLING HIS NAME... THE LOOK ON HIS FACE WHEN JJ ASKED IF HE HAD ANYTHING OTHER THAN MONEY TO MAKE PEOPLE LIKE HIM.... THIS IS THE KIND OF ANGST I EAT UP FUCK YES BE MISERABLE YOU POOR LITTLE MEOWMEOW

The whole scene at JJ's house had me dying oh my god. From JJ skipping outside to the trash to the way he suddenly had a date with Methas without even KNOWING what happened, like Methas was all, "Okay go get dressed, what are you waiting for?" and JJ was like "??????????"

Methas' lack of social skills is so funny to me... and his petty little jealousy over Plawan's relationship with JJ, like yeah I BET you wish you had friends too.

that preview too GOD I AM READY kfdgdfg i posted the stills for ep 5 on the benzgarfield sideblog last week, but i accidentally put ep 6 in the description at first, and then i corrected it to ep 5, and THEN half the stills didn't show up in the episode at all, so i was like ep 5 AND 6???? and now i find out it's ep 7 thank you TLDHLB staff for this clear and straightforward release of preview stills it has made it very easy for me to label things in an accurate and satisfying manner dgfdsfgsdfg

#em post #this love doesn't have long beans #currently watching

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thevioletcaptain · 6 months ago

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😔🧋🤙 for the emoji prompt!

Cas is just leaning in to kiss him, his fingers trailing warm and seductive down the center of Dean’s chest, when there’s a knock on their bedroom door. Three sharp raps in quick succession.

They both freeze, breath caught as they wait, as if silence will convince whoever’s knocking that they aren’t here.

“Dean? Cas?”

No such luck.

“Maybe if we ignore him, he’ll give up and leave,” Dean whispers, but he’s barely finished the sentence when Sam knocks again.

“Uh, guys?” Sam says, voice louder but still muffled through two inches of oak. “You awake in there?”

Cas sighs, slumping back onto his own pillow to give Dean a look that very clearly states; your brother, your problem. Dean sends one back that says, what’s mine is yours, sweetheart, but Cas only glowers in response.

“Guys?” Sam repeats, knocking a third time, and Dean groans as he pushes out of bed.

With one last longing glance at Cas, naked and sleepy and looking decidedly put out about the fact that his plans to continue what they’d started last night had been interrupted before they could even begin, Dean slips into his robe before cracking the door.

“What?”

Sam meets his gaze with a sheepish grimace.

“Hey, sorry,” he says again, wrinkling his nose. “I was gonna let you guys sleep in, but, well… I don’t wanna freak you out or anything, and it might not even be—”

Sam pushes out a breath. Hesitates.

“Dude, just spit it out. It’s early.”

“It’s eleven.”

“Sam—”

“I think there’s something wrong with Jack.”

That gets his attention fast, and Dean pulls the door wide as Cas launches out of bed. Sam averts his eyes when he notices Cas’ distinct lack of pants.

“Uh—”

“Is he sick?”

“What happened?” Cas asks, immediately breathless with worry. “Where is he? Is he hurt?”

“He’s fine, he’s safe, he’s taking Miracle for a walk. But— Cas, can you put some clothes on?”

Dean grabs Cas’ fuzzy cloud-print bathrobe from the back of the door and tosses it over to him before he can start arguing with Sam about the fact that his lack of pants has no bearing on Sam’s ability to explain himself.

“So if he’s fine and safe and walking the dog—what exactly is the problem?” Dean asks.

With an uncertain shrug, Sam nods toward the kitchen, and they follow him down the hall as he explains.

“Okay, so this morning I had to go to up to Hastings for a few things, and I asked if he wanted to come with — he normally does, y’know, because he likes the toffee boba from that place opposite the store where I get my protein powder.”

“Uhuh,” Dean says.

“So, I dropped him off to get his drink, and I went to the health food store, and when I came back to meet him he was just, like. Sitting in the middle of the sidewalk.”

“Sitting, and… doing what?” Cas asks.

“That’s the thing,” Sam says, stepping down into the kitchen. He looks back at them as he pulls out one of the swivel chairs at the table and sits down. Dean and Cas mirror him on the other side. “He was just sitting there, staring at a crack in the pavement with a dandelion growing in it.”

“So…” Dean says, waving a hand for Sam to elaborate.

“I think he’s depressed.”

“Depressed,” Cas repeats with a frown.

“You think he’s depressed because he was sitting on the sidewalk and looking at a flower?” Dean asks, narrowing his eyes. “The kid’s just weird, Sam. He’s always been weird. He gets it from his entire family.”

“That’s not— look, I asked him why he was sitting there instead of on the bench five feet away, and you know what he said to me? He said, what difference does it make? Everything is meaningless.”

“Okay, well that… that does sound kinda concerning,” Dean admits.

“Did he say anything else?”

“No, not really. But when we got back to the car he stuck the dandelion under the windshield wipers to ‘see how long it would hold on’, and… honestly, saying that out loud sounds stupid, but… I don’t know. It worried me.”

As he’s speaking, the distant whine of the main door opening echoes through the bunker, followed by scrambling claws as Miracle launches into his usual post-walk zoomies, and the heavy clang of the door slamming shut.

Miracle bursts into the kitchen a few seconds later, frantically sniffing at all of them — Cas carefully repositions himself to avoid getting a dog snout all up in his business — before sprinting back out, and Jack follows shortly after, slurping away at his boba.

Inexplicably, he’s wearing his Ghostbusters jumpsuit from last Halloween, a pair of teal flip flops, and has Cas’ floppy gardening hat hanging around his neck. Dean looks at him and then back at Sam, wondering how neglected to mention this absolute mess of an outfit as he recounted the reasons for his alarm.

“Hello,” Jack says with a wave, and walks over to the fridge.

Dean, Cas, and Sam all look at one another before Cas clears his throat.

“How are you today, Jack?”

Rifling through the vegetable drawer, Jack lets out a thoughtful hum before extracting a single tomatillo. He sniffs it before biting into it like an apple.

“Snacky. And… contemplative. Have you ever noticed how Miracle just eats whatever he finds no matter what time of day it is? That makes more sense than designated breakfast food, I think.”

“Right,” Dean says carefully, watching as Jack takes another sip from his toffee-flavored milk tea as though he doesn’t still have a mouthful of tomatillo. He’s unsurprised when the flavor combination — and presumably the added texture of a tapioca pearl — makes Jack gag a little, but it’s still gross when he spits it into the sink.

At least he takes the moment to turn on the tap and rinse it down.

“So, uh. What’s the deal with Halloween in July?”

Jack tilts his head for a moment, as though uncertain what Dean is asking, before he seems to remember what he’s wearing. He looks down. Jiggles the buckle of his utility belt.

“Oh, it’s because I realized nothing matters,” Jack says cheerfully, and takes a long, noisy slurp through his straw before wriggling it around the bottom of his cup, where the last tapioca pearl is stubbornly clinging to the plastic. It finally dislodges, and he crushes the cup in his hand, tossing it in the recycling.

“What do you mean nothing matters?”

“There’s no point to anything. It’s all meaningless, so, you know, if something is kind or fun or interesting and it doesn’t hurt anyone…” Jack shrugs. “Hakuna Matata.”

Without waiting for a response, Jack crams the rest of the tomatillo into his mouth and heads for the door.

“Anyway, I’m gonna go up on the roof and read erotica on my phone,” he says, and waves, and then he’s gone before any of them can process that — let alone react to it.

“See what I mean?” Sam says.

“Yeah, uh. He’s definitely being weird, even for Jack, but… I don’t think he’s depressed.”

“So what is it? Teen angst?”

“He’s not a teenager,” Dean points out. “And he’s not exactly angsty.”

“He’s right, Sam. I’m not certain this is even a problem.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Well, I do think one of us should actually take the time to have a frank discussion with him about sex if he’s going to be reading erotica, but other than that, it seems as though he’s just thinking philosophically. Contemplating the nature of his existence in a newly Godless universe.”

“Yeah, and I mean, as far as philosophies go? Nothing matters so just chill out about it seems… refreshingly optimistic. I say we call it a win.”

[written for this prompt game] [find me on ao3 as imogenbynight 💚]

ps: here's a bonus meme to illustrate why my brain went immediately to "optimistic nihilism" after seeing these particular emojis 😅

#deancas fic #destiel fic #dadstiel fic #prompt fic #imogenbynight #dressupheart #replies #cass writes fic #thanks for the prompt!#i guess they're hashtag married in this one?#also good lord this is like 1300 words #why do these words just fall out of my brain onto the screen but the ones i'm supposed to be writing elude me??? sigh.#the deancas of it all #fandom: supernatural

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tu-sugar-mami · 2 years ago

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Do u take requests? If so could I request how Alcina would take care of a severely injured YN?

Hi! Sorry it took me so long to reply 😅 I do take requests occasionally, thank you for sending yours 💖 I like to write a short story with a tiny speck of plot rather than a sort of headcanon list so I hope that's okay with you

Tags: Slight angst, overprotective Alcina, happy ending, fluff, gender neutral reader

Around 900 words

Enjoy!

_________________________________________

Alcina hadn't meant for the incident to happen. She could have sworn the door leading to the cellar was locked…

The Lady had heard quite a large number of screeches, yells and begging coming from the basement throughout her many years living with her daughters at castle Dimitrescu, but she will forever remember the way this specific shrill screaming made her blood run cold.

She knew that voice, she adored listening to its raspy tone every morning next to her in bed. She loved the way it lovingly called her name with surprise when she, despite her size, sneaked behind you. She loved your laugh when she hoisted you up in a hug and spinned you around before peppering your face with kisses until your face was red with her lipstick.

Yes, Alcina recognized the voice of her lover coming from that damned place, screaming for her to save you, begging to her for help.

A second didn't even pass before her legs carried her full speed towards the cellar, calling out your name in hopes you'd hear her and know she was coming. Hoping with all her being that you could hang on just one more second while she got there.

It wasn't pretty when she found you. The moroaica had cornered you, and even though the trail of corpses let Alcina know you had put up an admirable fight, the Lady could see the cuts and scratches littering your skin and and tearing your clothes, but what caught her attention the most were the large, ugly deep gashes on your side and calf bleeding profusely. Your pale face let her know you wouldn't resist any more if she didn't act soon.

Without breaking a sweat, she got rid of the remaining moroaica in a swift swing of her claws, careful to not hurt you accidentally with them.

With a last cry, your knees went weak and weren't able to support your weight anymore, but before you could even touch the ground a pair of strong arms lifted you bridal style, and in a second you were seeking comfort in Alcina's neck…

A few hours later, once you laid in the comfort of Alcina's bed with your injuries dressed and your pain dulled with a lot of medicine -courtesy of Moreau-, your trembling body snuggled close to Alcina's while she stroked your head lovingly. The Lady was livid, and swore to find out who was responsible for such a disaster, but for now, all her focus was on you.

Soon enough, after the adrenaline of the fight and fright passed, your eyes drifted closed and you fell into a peaceful slumber at the mercy of Alcina's warmth and presence keeping you safe.

If Alcina's bed was already the softest place you ever had the pleasure to sleep on, it felt like absolute heaven when you woke up again. The bedsheets had been changed for the fluffiest, softest and most comfortable covers money could buy.

Although Alcina knows that humans are quite fragile, she doesn't really remember how everything works, what with her mutation making her basically immortal. What she isn't capable of providing, such as helping redress your wounds (mostly because her and her daughter's would never really need it), is compensated with her bringing you every luxury you might want or need.

Five maids were at the ready outside of the door just in case, and Alcina even got a bell placed on the bedside table in case you needed something and Alcina wasn't around, but honestly it was kind of pointless since Alcina wouldn't dare to leave your side even for a second.

Every two hours or so, she would check your temperature to make sure everything was in order, just like Sal had instructed her. She might even have gotten a bit anxious when you wouldn't wake up soon, and she'd force herself to resist the urge to wake you up. If your breathing changed in the slightest while you slept, Alcina would worry and more often than not she would overreact, summoning her daughters and ordering them to call Moreau because you might be dying! for the fifth time in the last 15 hours.

Thanks to Miranda's willing help -most likely by Alcina's blackmail- your recovery went smoothly, and when the worst passed and you felt well enough to try to get up on your own, Alcina still kept you in bed for two more weeks, just to make sure you'd be completely ready to start walking again. Sometimes the Lady wouldn't let you walk at all, instead carrying you in her own two arms to wherever your desired location was at the moment. Yes, even the "tedious and so exhaustingly long" tea parties you held with Donna and Angie when they visited.

Despite Alcina's overprotectiveness, you couldn't really complain. Her loving kisses did wonders for your ouchies, and you swear the red of her lipstick on your own lips gave you the boost you needed to push through the stress.

Eventually your injuries healed perfectly thanks to Alcina's perseverance and tenderness, and she was more than happy to receive your gratitude in the fierce kisses and wandering caresses you both shared in the privacy of her chambers.

The locks on the cellar door might have been changed to a considerable height after the little incident though.

All in all, Alcina had no idea how to take care of a human in terms of health, but there's nothing she wouldn't be willing to learn learn for the sake of her beloved 💕

#alcina dimitrescu angst #alcina x reader #alcina dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #my fic #lady dimitrescu x reader #re8

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