#literally i just had one quick task to do but no now im going to be here for like 30 minutes

[cappurrccino]

genuinely, why do we have to live in an age where everything sucks when we could live in an age where things are nice and just work like they're supposed to?

[norman-fucking-reedus]

I’m absolutely obsessed with your writing! I was hoping I could request a one-shot where Daryl and fem!reader are married. They are working on separate outdoor projects but Daryl can’t stop watching the reader throughout the day. The dirtiest thoughts cross his mind as he watches her. Later that evening when they are home and finally alone he recreates all those thoughts with her throughout the night. Daryl has a pleasure and praise kink, includes oral, Daryl loves going down on the reader!

*Set during later Alexandria or Commonweath era (Daryl never goes to France!)

STOP IT RIGHT TF NOW ANON CAUSE WHY HAVENT I THOUGHT OF A PLEASURE KINK. DROOLING RN

Heres me admitting im only on season 9 of TWD so this takes place in Alexandria 😿

A/n: Thought I’d actually title this bc reading it again months later I just think it needs one 🥸

gif creds @daryl-dixon-daydreams

BUSY BEE

Daryl was going to simply pass away and die.

He hated his own mind for it’s never-ending thoughts, even more so when he had a literal job to be doing. His racing thoughts had been distracting him the whole day, occasionally using the wrong tool, knocking something over, and even almost spilling all the oil at one point.

It was just the way your hips looked, so well rounded in those jeans, shirt clinging to your body as you walked quickly with your own tasks in mind, not noticing your husband’s hardcore staring.

His mind was bursting with thoughts of what horribly dirty things he wanted to do to you. Sometimes he physically can’t wrap his head around how he ended up with someone like you. All Daryl could think about was just how bad he wanted to fuck you, cock already stirring to life in his pants.

No. No. He had to stay focused. He couldn’t be seen not doing his task and also now needed to hide the tent forming in his pants. It was worse that he was out in the open, having been assigned to work on the cars to keep them running longer.

You had been assigned to ask around to see what was needed for the next run, only for some reason you had timed yourself to get to everyone in under an hour, hence your quick pace and focused gaze. Daryl had seen you walk past at least three times, each time you sped past while furiously scribbling on a notepad. He felt like a teenager watching and obsessing over his crush.

God, he was so ready to blow himself up, staring down at under the hood of one of the cars used for runs. He forced his mind to focus on fixing shit instead of wandering off. Rick had been saying that the brakes had been failing, only Daryl couldn’t exactly do much without a jackstand.

He decided to test the car battery instead since it had been having trouble starting. Stepping around the car to the toolbox, he almost tripped as you bumped right into him. “Bulky bitch!” You yelped as you fell down onto your ass, dropping your pen and paper. Daryl gently but quickly pulled you to your feet, picking your stuff up. “Tha’ hell ya runnin’ from girl?” He stepped closer to you, sliding a hand to your waist. “I’m a very busy woman with places to be and times to beat” You rolled your eyes, yet smiled softly at Daryl. “Too busy fer me now?” You nodded, leaning up as if to kiss him but going for his ear instead. “Very busy” You whispered sweetly, placing a faint kiss on his cheek before speeding away again.

Daryl simply stood there with his cock straining harshly against the fabric of his pants, cock pulsating as he could feel himself leaking pre-cum. He should just blow his goddamn brains out, now.

He slammed the hood of the car shut and climbed inside, dropping his head onto the steering wheel. It felt like his head was about to fall off with how many filthy thoughts were flooding in. You were the biggest tease and absolutely knew it, sweat dripping down his face as he tried to silence his brain, hands gripping the steering wheel. He wasn’t about to jerk off inside a car with the clearest windows ever, at that point he might as well do it out in the open.

While Daryl was suffering silently, you were simply serene as you rocked on the porch swing of your house, turning in the list to Rick right before your timer hit fifteen minutes. You toyed with the ring on your finger, smiling down as you thought of how Daryl refused to get you something small. He had found a jewelry shop out on a secret run and spent an hour overthinking and questioning himself before finding the perfect ring. It was a sliver band with clusters of smaller diamonds around a larger one that so happened to be the shape of a skull, matching the one he wore every day. He smashed the glass without a second thought.

You smile fondly, also remembering that the same man was probably struggling to do his work. Getting him super worked up was your favorite thing to do as he basically melted in your hands the second he stepped foot inside.

Speaking of inside, you had stepped in earlier to change out your underwear, switching into a black thong you found. You could practically feel Daryl’s hands roaming your body, shivers running down your spine at the tingling sensation.

Whilst you were enjoying yourself, Daryl was still sitting in the car, staring down at the steering wheel as he tried to focus his mind on anything else, aside from the cocky sway of your hips, and the ghost of your lips against his ears.

He needed to get off badly. The only thing really stopping him were these shitty windows, however he proceeded to begin rubbing his hand on his clothed cock, letting out a shaky moan. Daryl slammed his hands back onto the steering wheel, gripping it tightly as he tried to recenter himself. He thought for a moment, sweat rolling down the back of his neck.

The car door swung open and he kicked it shut behind him, walking quickly to avoid anyone who might wanna talk, quickly making his way back home. He passed Carol, who was sitting out on her swing. She waved and he gave a short wave back, trying his hardest to keep his hard-on concealed as he sped past.

He stepped heavily up the stairs, the wooden porch creaking under his weight as he opened and shut the front door. It was remotely quiet as he kicked his shoes off next to yours, tearing his shirt off as he stomped upstairs to your shared bedroom, where he found you in one of his shirts lying on your stomach reading a book, closing it at the sound of your husband's arrival. “Already stripping nude for me, Dixon?” You pushed yourself onto your knees and he approached the bed, grabbing your face rougher than intended and crashing his lips onto yours.

It seemed like in that moment, Daryl’s hyperactive mind finally shut itself down, his shoulders relaxing as his hands held your soft face, licking into your mouth desperately. Your hands wrapped around his neck, fingers splayed out on his upper back as he moved to join you on the bed, readjusting you so your legs rested comfortably on either side of his hips. There was a burning desire in his gut as he sucked harshly on your skin, grinding against you as he did.

Daryl’s hands stayed locked at your hips, massaging and groping the flesh as he continued marking up your whole body, practically eating you. He reached your boobs and ran his tongue over the right one and started to suck deep marks into the sensitive flesh.

His hips picked up speed, becoming erratic before burying his face in space between your boobs, shaking as he literally came in his pants. It was the hottest thing you’d seen. “Feeling better?” You whispered breathlessly, watching him groan and lift himself sluggishly off your chest. “M’not done yet” His words were slightly slurred as he leaned back on his knees, hands fumbling to undo his pants.

You eventually reached down to unzip his zipper, and he was back on you instantly, shoving his boxers down enough to free his hard and dripping cock, precum pouring from the puffy tip. “God, Daryl, you’re so needy tonight” You moaned as he pulled down your pajama shorts, eyes staring down at the black thong. “Yes tha’ hell I am” He whispered, hands sliding up your sides and he slid down, cock pulsing as he got a look at your cunt even with the thong on. There was just so much he wanted to do to you that it was overwhelming his senses.

He ran his tongue up and in between your folds, tasting you through the measly garment. He rubbed circles in your clit as his tongue explored every inch, slipping past the thong and into your entrance, causing your brain to short-circuit as he worked you to release, especially since his own was drying in his underwear. Alongside his tongue, Daryl eased two fingers in, stretching and scissoring you open, his tongue going in much deeper and curling. “Fuck yes, baby just like that” You bit your bottom lip harshly, sliding your own fingers down to stimulate your clit, knowing how to push yourself off the edge quicker. He got so fucking hard at the sight of you playing with yourself, even more so that it was your ring finger, the diamond skull standing out as your fingers sped up. Daryl pulled his tongue out, continuing to move his fingers as he licked your clit, a strangled sob coming from you as you came.

Daryl settled for unleashing another attack on your torso while you recovered from your orgasm, licking, kissing, sucking, and biting at the smooth flesh of your stomach, one hand holding your thigh over his shoulder, and the other resting right by your boob, his thumb teasingly stroking the skin under it. He felt every curse, moan and gasp you let out, licking right in between your already marked boobs, kissing the junction of your throat all the way up to your lips. The head of his cock nudged your pussy slightly, and the heat of the kiss had you dizzy. “C’mon handsome, I can’t wait much longer” You batted your lashes at him, running your hand down his one of his big arms, your ring shimmering in the dim lamp light.

Your other hand slid in between your bodies to shift your soaked thong to the side, pulling him closer by wrapping your legs around his waist. He used one hand to steady his cock, and gripped the headboard as he slammed in, two of you moaning in unison. Daryl’s cock was more sensitive than ever, eyes rolling to the back of his skull as he readjusted himself, pounding roughly into you as you gripped his bicep.

Daryl’s thrusts were relentless as he kept his pace up, bed creaking and headboard slamming as he panted like a dog, watching the way his cock was sliding in and out of you, a giant wet spot forming on his jeans as he showed no signs of stopping. “My big strong man, always fucking me so good with your fat cock” You bit down on your lips as one of your hands came to rest on his cheek. He turned his face to the side, kissing your palm while staring into your eyes with a lovingly lustful gaze. “M’all yers, m’gon always give my woman wha’ she wants” His voice was raspy and breathless against your hand before he locked your fingers together, pinning your hands onto the mattress and dipping his head down to press his forehead against yours, simply panting into each others spaces.

From how tightly you were holding hands, your rings dug into one another’s fingers, and it only turned Daryl on more. You were his and he was yours. “M’so proud ta call ya Mrs. Dixon. Gon fill ya up w all my kids” He whispered, bumping his strangely cold button nose against yours. “Let’s just start with one?” Your voice sounded foreign to your ears, and by the way Daryl’s hips had sped up you could tell he was close “Not one now!” You shrieked, nails digging into his hands as he railed your sweet spot, orgasm already hitting him incredibly hard as he practically laughed in your ear from how hard he came, pulling out just a little too late.

He fell on top of you, but recoiled when something wet touched his navel, eyes flickering down to see his cum soaking into the black fabric of your thong and seeping out your hole. “Gonna clean that up for me?” You winked suggestively at him, and he lowered himself to be eye level with your messy cunt, massive hands spreading you further apart as he licked his lips. “Yes ma’am”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

I made myself very horny writing this but I also kept falling asleep as I was writing

also I based both rings off Normans ring :3 (he should put his finger in my body)

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

03 — MY COMPASS, MY TRANSPORT

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

<- previous part | next part ->

“I have nothing else to live for.”

It’s a truth. A deep, earnest one – and it’s the only option you have.

Without Graves, without your Shadows, you have nothing. No income, no family, no support. You're left with the clothes on your body and the shoes in which you stand, with no hope of finding your footing.

In the darkness, the only light shines from the headlights of the truck, and the red of the radio. It’s silenced, of course, but it serves as a beacon of something between you all.

“I don’t – I have no other choice,” you say, voice trembling. You would not break in front of them, but you could feel yourself cracking; porcelain underneath a harsh grip. Turning yourself so you’re completely facing the two, your expression turns desperate. “I want to help you both, and I want to save Phi– Graves.”

You correct yourself at the final moment, wary of your slip up.

“Save ‘im? From what? Feckin’ charges for war crimes? Getting his ass handed to ‘im?” Soap chokes out, incredulous, eyes wide where they meet yours. He winces when he moves forward too quick, straining his arm.

“He’s…” You look down at your hands, merely watching for a moment as they close into a fist and open again. Blood crusts underneath your fingernails. “He’s all I have. I’m sure he just needs a wake up call, someone to snap him out of it.”

“He tried to kill us,” Ghost speaks up, matter-of-fact, but quiet. As if at any moment, his words will wake up the entire city. If there were any civilians left in it, you supposed. Your eyes burn with unshed tears.

“...And I had to kill some of my men.”

It’s a confession of sin. Like poison on your tongue, yet at the same time, an anecdote to an evil in your veins. You’d killed your men. You’d… done that.

You still haven’t quite allowed yourself to realise it, not yet.

But if it’s enough to keep you alive right now, so be it. You hadn’t gotten this far just to give up over something as inconsequential as pride.

“Ye will tell us everything you know about ‘im. And’ll help us until we figure out what to do. We’re our own bosses now, Sweetheart,” Soap commands, that fucking nickname of his seeming to stick. You don’t dispute it – not right now, not when this is quite literally life or death.

“I promise,” you say, resolute and stern. There was no time for self-pity or wallowing, only time for action and conviction – something you had in spades. “I’m yours for as long as you need me.”

You hadn’t known how true those words would be – not then, and not for a good while. But they were a prophecy, if such a thing could at all be possible for a woman like you.

Soap and Ghost share a look; a brief, yet important one, before Ghost gives the Scot a short nod. Soap turns once more to you, his face betraying the answer of their silent agreement.

“...So?” You suggest, impatient considering the consequences of the next few moments. 

Bringing a hand up to stroke at his stubbled chin, Soap makes an act of pretending to ponder – and it succeeds in stoking the flames at your core, fury burning through you like a liquor-soaked rope.

“I dunno, lass,” he says on a sigh, his ocean eyes betraying a mischief in their depths. “Yer kinda mean to me.”

You might choke him.

Actually, check that, you will choke him. He’s impossible – an arsehole to the nth degree – somehow worse than Ghost in his… foolishness? Was that the right word? Or just straight frustrating-ness?

Seeming to sense your thinning patience, Soap’s hand falls from his jaw with a mirthful smirk, proud of himself. 

“If ye say pretty please, ye can join our lil’ duo.” He finishes the statement off with a wink, and you don’t realise that your hands have curled into fists until the sharp pain of nails digging into your palms force you to resort back to your senses.

You let out a slow, loud breath. 

Neither of them move a muscle, except for the twitch of Soap’s dimple. You hate that you recognise such a small movement, but you easily blame it on the fact that it’s a drilled-in mentality.

“...Please,” you acquiesce, however quiet. 

Ghost’s eyebrow raises. How you’re aware of that, considering his mask, is a props to him. 

“That’s not what he asked for.” His voice is a low, husky thing, and the title of guard dog suddenly doesn’t sound so incorrect.

With your teeth gritted and cheeks straining, you mutter out, “Pretty please.”

Soap’s responding smile is nothing short of beaming, and you almost immediately wish that you could take those words back. Was death really so bad? Would it even be a mercy, compared to deciding to share a threadbare camaraderie with these weirdos?

Too bad time control isn’t exactly a well-researched military weapon.

“Let’s go then,” Ghost slaps his gloved hand against the steering wheel, before looking one last time towards you with purpose, “Sweetheart.”

Soap laughs.

You get out and slam the door in his face.

“Och! You feckin’ bastard, lass,” you hear him screech, before the door opens once more and Soap hops out, fuming.

Turning away, you fall behind Ghost, and quickly take a look around at the vast, empty area that is barren suburbia. Not before responding, however.

“Next time you get shot, I’m not taking care of your ass,” you threaten. “And I’m giving the rest of my sweets to Mr. Melodramatic.”

Soap’s returning mock gasp is, in all fairness, pretty comedic. “You have more sweets? Gimme those and ye lovely bedside manners ‘nd I’ll get a cavity!”

Your returning glare could cut steel. “Keep that up, and you’ll end up with bigger issues than a cavity.”

“I think ye are already the bigger issue,” Soap snaps back, but it’s not inherently malicious. It’s… borderline playful, and that sudden thought has you internally slapping yourself.

“Both of ya – quiet,” Ghost warns.

You both shut up immediately.

With wary steps, the three of you go to step up towards the front door, when Ghost swings out a hand, stopping the lot of you in your tracks. The night doesn’t allow for any of you to see well, but he must’ve picked up something that you hadn’t.

The thought is an immediately terrifying one.

“Pressure plates,” Soap murmurs under his breath, eyeing the square linoleum tile. “Nice catch, Lt.”

Ghost doesn’t respond, instead motioning for you to follow him towards a glassless window. Gravel crunches underneath your light footfalls, easily heard in the deathly quiet, as you move to swing your leg over the access point and drop to the floor inside.

Landing with a soft thud, you go to unfurl from your crouching position, before a loud warning shout from Ghost has you freezing.

Flinching where you stand, your eyes dart to where Ghost has flung one of his daggers, the sharp metal splintering a wooden beam further into the dark room. Realising that Soap sits at your flank, you shift your gaze to spot a red light focused in on his forehead – between his eyes.

“¿Quien esta ahi?” An unfamiliar, accented voice calls out from behind the beam. You could slap yourself for being so careless, in not realising that someone else was in here before Ghost had saved your arses. 

“Rodolfo!” Soap calls out, relief flooding his tone as he rights his position, shoulders back.

A man peeks out from behind the wood, eyes wide and slightly panicked, before they soften at the sight of the two men behind you. “Soap! Ghost! You’re alive!”

Stepping out from around the beam, he reaches for Ghost’s dagger, pulling it away from where it had dug into the oak with undeniable ease. His appearance is striking, with a set jaw and gentle features – he’s quite pretty, but not at all in a way that you find yourself attracted to the man.

“Affirmative,” Ghost responds, accepting the knife back when the man – Rodolfo – hands it to him hilt-first.

“Good to see you, amigos,” Rodolfo smiles, before his appraisal sets on you, confusion sparking in his deep brown eyes. He looks to the two men at your side for an explanation, hesitant in the way he does so.

“This is…” Soap trails off, before coming to a realisation. “Feckin’ hell. I never even asked for yer name, Sweetheart.”

Rodolfo blinks. Once, twice, before his eyebrows furrow and his mouth settles into an uncomfortable grimace.

You shoot a glare Soap’s way, before gifting Rodolfo a polite, yet stilted, smile. Extending your hand, you give him your name, and then your official title.

“Colonel? Graves’ colonel?” Rodolfo repeats back, utterly taken aback by such an introduction. He doesn’t seem to know what to do, quickly hissing to Soap in unamused Spanish, “¿Has perdido la cabeza?”

“I saved his life,” you interrupt, before any verbal sparring begins. “And I’m on your team. I don’t agree with what Graves is doing – and I’m sorry for what he’s already done. But I want to help you. I swear.”

Rodolfo regards you for a moment, his internal walls still heavily locked in place. But he seems… softer, now, in a way. More understanding, maybe, less hesitant as he slowly appraises you, inspecting you under his critical analysis.

The silence stretches, before the soldier raises his hands placatingly, the left side of his mouth twitching into a smooth smirk. “No accusations from me, Corazón,” he reassures, the pet name sliding from his full lips like butter over warm toast.

“Aye, none of tha’,” Soap warns, and Rodolfo’s amusement deepens. Whatever the Scot is about to say next is abruptly stopped by Ghost’s booming demand from behind you both.

“Anyone outside of these walls is now considered a hostile – we’re a team now. This happened under my watch, and I’d bloody well do good to fix it.” His posture is stiff, hand unconsciously flexing around the blade strapped to his belt as he delivers the order. It’s the most you’ve ever heard him speak in one shot.

You figure he’s stopped speaking, when suddenly his heavy gaze is on you, any ounce of solidarity snuffed out like a match’s flame. “You fuck up once, Sweetheart, and I won’t hesitate when I shoot ya dead.”

It’s as good of a compromise as you’re going to get from the hulking Lieutenant, but you weren’t made Colonel for your talents in stepping down.

“You forget that I outrank you,” you challenge, chin raised and eyes flinty. “And that I saved your mutt.”

“We don’t have a feckin’ dog,” Soap starts, but when he sees the way Ghost side eyes him, and how you give him an unimpressed look, his jaw drops. “Ye bastard! Shoulda killed ya –”

Rodolfo’s hand wraps around Soap’s forearm, the grumbling man twisting in his hold, but not putting up anything close to a fight. “She’s just stirring you up, hermano,” Rodolfo placates, his large eyes meeting yours with a hint of respect in them. It has you straightening your spine, and your resolve.

“We sort this out as equals,” you state, folding your arms over your chest and bucking your hip. Ghost doesn’t, for a single second, shift your mutual eye contact. “And you will all tell me what the fuck’s going on – and what we’re doing.”

“Alejandro,” Ghost quips, sharp and to the point. Finally, you think, his near-black eyes drift to Rodolfo. “We need him back.”

“He’s the only other lad we can trust out there,” Soap adds, his pout easing slightly. Rodolfo finally drops his hand, clapping it hard against the petulant man’s shoulder with a firm nod.

“Already got a head start, hermanos,” he gestures for the three of you to follow him further into the room, before his calculating eyes glance back at you, “y hermana.”

It’s an unknown, entirely different feeling that erupts inside of your chest at the inclusion. Rodolfo was clearly the most soft spoken man of the three, but he had an intelligence to him that you couldn’t wait to unpack. And he trusted you. Or so you had gathered, anyway.

However.

First things first.

“...Where’s Alejandro? I thought he was Mexican Special Forces?” It was, admittedly, a unique kind of embarrassing – how out of the loop you felt, considering you were a colonel under Graves’ command. You’d heard the man’s name before, but it was usually just paired with barracks gossip and warnings to steer clear. Some joke about how the only one who could kill Alejandro, was the soldier himself.

Moving along with Rodolfo, you’re surprised when it’s Soap who supplies you the answer.

“Your fuckwit of a Commander’s got ‘im,” he curses, the words grating and harsh. Deserved, of course it was deserved, yet it was still odd hearing such disrespect for the man of whom you’d idolised for so long.

Of whom you’d given everything.

Switching a light on, Rodolfo stops in front of a large table, a map laid out across the top of it. Your eyes go wide at the intricacies – focusing as the man leans over and presses a finger towards a highlighted spot, watching the three of you where you stand on the other side. Dust floats near the source of the lamp, and the scent of grime hits you a moment later, a familiar thing.

“Graves is holding him here,” Rodolfo explains, his previously mischievous expression settling into a firm, military-grade frown.

“His own personal black site prison,” Soap scoffs, subconsciously flexing his fingers around the straps of his vest. His focus is utterly devoted to the map in front of him, but his anxiety shows itself through the tiniest of movements.

Rubbing his spare hand down his face, Rodolfo lets out a long, strewn-out sigh. “My men are locked in there, too.”

“Then let’s get them back,” you supply with a small shrug when all eyes shoot your direction.

“That’s obvious, lass,” Soap says, lacking any hint of his previous vitriol when he looks around the room. “How we get ‘em back is the question.”

“By breaking in,” Ghost answers, the retort as simple as breathing.

If you weren’t so receptive to body movements, to the smallest of expressions, you’d’ve missed it. Even then, you doubted that anyone could miss how Soap’s eyes soften when he looks to his Lieutenant, how his breath softly hitches in his throat.

You want to claw out your eyes with a rusty spoon.

By the look on Rodolfo’s face, he feels much the same – until he catches you staring, and then his face twists into something much more cryptic. Like a man trying to solve a puzzle without all of the pieces, being forced to jam spares into spots that just won’t fit.

“We need weapons,” you startle out, the words surprising even yourself. You don’t go back on them, don’t even think to. “If we want to stand a fighting chance – we need firepower.”

“Who said you’re with us?” Ghost questions snarkily, but when you go to reply, you find that Rodolfo’s moved to the corner of the room, switching on even more lights, displaying a wrought iron door.

Sliding it open, you feel like a kid on Christmas morning as you take note of the supplies within.

Rodolfo shrugs, but the small, smug grin on his face doesn’t dispel. “It’s well-stocked. This is Ale we’re talking about.”

The affectionate nickname is something you store away for later. ‘Well-stocked’ is certainly an understatement – guns of all types line the walls within the room, all types of bombs and grenades along with it.

“Alright,” Ghost huffs out, the closest to appreciative that a man like him can get.

Soap is much more upfront about his joy. “My man!” He laughs, his dimples etched into his features like the light spattering of freckles over his upper cheeks and nose bridge. “We’re gonna need new wheels. Preferably up-armoured.”

Digging into his pocket, Rodolfo pulls out a set of keys, tossing them over to Ghost with relaxed shoulders. Turning, shock must be evident on all of you, because Rodolfo lets out a low chuckle. “Your wish is my command, hermanos y hermana.”

To the far end of the room, within the adjoined stables, is a fully-armoured forward drive of some sort – sleek and black and fucking perfect.

“Alejandro thought of everything,” Ghost admires, and when you look to him, you swear that you can see a hint of hope shining in his darkened eyes. Your heart skips a beat on its own accord, and you’re absorbed by the all-consuming want to pull it out of your chest with your bare hands, just so it never does such a thing again.

“Yeah, he did,” Soap whistles, before turning back around to face your small band of misfits. With a determined grin, he says as if it’s an afterthought, “Let’s go get ‘im.”

With a stern resolve and an even sterner disposition, you walk alongside your newfound teammates, and get ready for the most difficult mission of your military career.

*

When you’d, stupidly, recklessly, decided to play good guy and helps out the 141 and Los Vaqueros, you hadn’t taken into account how you’d be at the bottom of the totem pole.

While the three men you were working alongside were all considerably close, you were an outsider. At that, an outsider who had, only a few hours ago, decided to swap sides from enemy to ally.

Being paired with Ghost is, arguably, the most gut-wrenching job in your life. By the time that Rodolfo finds Alejandro through the CCTV system, you’re nearly entirely covered in dried blood, and your head thumps with a headache.

Not a headache from war – a headache from the fucking twat with a shitty DIY job for a military get-up.

“You’re seriously the worst,” you grit out, wiping off a bit of Shadow blood that’s been sprayed on your cheek. “I seriously can’t fucking believe that any one of your mates can tolerate you.”

“Who needs ‘mates’ when I have my boys?” Ghost quips back, wiping off his bloody dagger onto his vest, before slotting it back into its rightful position on his belt. His ability to blend into the night, even with the prison lights on, is uncanny – the only tell the white of his stitched-in skull.

You mock a disgusted sound, sticking out your tongue. “You sound like a fuckboy.”

“A what?” And, although it sounds nothing like a choke, you’re sure that it’s an instinctual question.

The sound of a helicopter up ahead has the two of you pausing in your tracks, feud coming to a quick halt. Looking up, you struggle to see the vehicle in the black of night, but you manage to spot the slowly circling heli above the prison.

“Ghost, Sweetheart, what’s yer status?” Soap’s voice trickles in through your comms. Ghost glances at you, before he answers on your behalf, ever the control-freak.

“Comin’ your way.”

Falling into step side-by-side, you focus on the wet gravel underneath your feet, avoiding making any communication with the man to your right.

“Copy. We’re on the move,” Soap replies, before Rodolfo cuts in.

“Heads up on the helo,” he warns. You find that you much prefer him over the other two – in fact, under any other circumstance, you could see the two of you becoming good friends. Maybe, if everything goes well, that could be a possibility – a positive in your world of negatives.

“Don’t think we’re in his line of sight,” you respond, double-checking your route and the helicopter's position in the sky. Rodolfo had warned you all, debriefing in the drive here, that helicopters would likely show up at some point.

Minutes pass, with small comms between the lot of you, when you finally spot the familiar figures belonging to the other half of your precarious team. 

Soap and Rodolfo stand at the entrance, before the two turn at the sound of your and Ghost’s footsteps. They both seem to visibly loosen their stiff shoulders, seeing you both uninjured – and if you do the same, you pray that no one notices.

“The door’s locked,” Soap informs you all, gesturing to the steel entrance5.

With a small hum, Rodolfo reaches for the pack on his vest. “We’ll need to breach it,” he explains, but before he can grab a charger, Ghost raises a hand to stop him.

“No, Rudy –” And that is a nickname that you’ll be using later, “Knock.”

Rodolfo seems apprehensive, but he agrees anyway, giving all three of you separate glances. “On me…”

All of you getting into readying positions, Rodolfo knocks on the door, the sound echoing loud enough to have your blood pounding in your ears.

A moment later, a Shadow – one you don’t recall having met – pushes open the door and moves to step outside. However, Rodolfo and Ghost are quick to neutralise him, softly dropping his body to the floor.

Pushing through the entrance, everyone except for you shoot a Shadow dead – clearing the room in less than twenty seconds. It’s impressive, how smoothly run the operation is, considering the lack of proper authority or guidance.

You’re the first to spot some more Shadows moving your way, down the stairs – calling it out. “More Shadows from the second floor – watch out!”

This time, you find yourself the cause of two men falling to the ground, blood pooling underneath their lifeless bodies. Your team doesn't give you time to second guess, to mourn, before they’re encouraging you to follow them up the stairs.

“Ale’s up here, let’s go!” Rodolfo urges, his voice bordering on a kind of desperation reminiscent of a boy enlisting for the first time.

Like expected, Alejandro’s cell is down the hall, sat to the far right. Two Shadows guard the steel door, but Soap and Rodolfo are quick to light them up, successfully clearing the entire two floors. You’re ashamed of how relieved you feel, being gifted the small mercies of not having to kill your previous subordinates, unless necessary.

You feel, more than see, Ghost’s heavy gaze on you. When you look back up from the gun in your hands, however, he’s turned completely away – and if you were a less accurate person, you’d have thought you were imagining things.

“There’s Alejandro’s cell.” Stopping at the steel door, Rodolfo adjusts his grip on the gun, before giving you an encouraging jerk of his head. “Open it up, me and Soap will cover you.”

Another small mercy, you think, as Ghost reaches into his backpack and pulls out a set of bolt cutters, regarding you stiffly. “When I pop this lock, you push in,” he directs you curtly, and you bite back a retort. You knew the process like the back of your hand – you had no need for an explanation.

The ‘especially from him’ goes unsaid.

With precise, practised movements, Ghost positions the bolt cutters, and pushes open the door.

As soon as you take one step into the cell, a large hand wraps around the back of your neck, slamming your face into the concrete wall, a blinding pain shooting through your retinas. Letting out a small yelp, your chest rattles as your hands wildly raise in an imitation of surrender.

“Alejandro! Let go of ‘er! It’s us!” Soap calls out, and you swallow unhealthy amounts of air. That hit had taken more out of you than you’d expected – and your harsh breaths were making that incredibly apparent.

The grip on the scruff of your neck slackens when Rodolfo shoots off in quickfire Spanish, “Coronel, relájate, cabron, somos nosotros.”

Your cheek aches and your head pounds as the hand removes itself entirely, allowing for you to take in lungfuls of oxygen.

“Soap, Ghost!” Alejandro bursts out, and as you rise to your feet unsteadily, you watch as he thumps both of them on the back of their shoulders, before turning to Rodolfo with an expression that could only be described as longing. “...Rudy.”

“Didn’t think we’d leave ya, did ye?” Soap chuckles, oblivious to the thread of tension between the two men. 

Whatever silent conversation had occured between the two enforcers is quickly cut as Alejandro accepts the shake of Soap’s hand, a feral grin wide on his features. “What took you so long, pendejos?”

“A traitor with an attitude is what,” Ghost inputs, and really, how much self control can a Lieutenant lack? Wiping at your cheek, you let your hand fall once more to your side as you meet Alejandro’s inquisitive gaze head-on.

“I’m Graves’ previous colonel,” you extend your hand, “And I’m your best bet at getting your base back.”

You expect suspicion, uproar, maybe – or at least questioning, similar to that of Rodolfo’s.

Instead, all you’re met with is Alejandro’s manic smile sharpening, and a slap on the back of your own. Ruffling your hair, he uses his free hand to accept the gun Rodolfo’s extending towards him, shooting you a knowing glance.

“Sounds good, hermana. Welcome to how real men fight.”

taglist. @lilpothoscuttings @jng-yuan @iruzias @insatiablekittie @1wh4re1nova @kaoyamamegami @supernaturalstilinski @inthemiddle0feverywhere @msecho19 @nogood-boyo @alfa-jor @lalashhyl @letmeapologise @honeybeeznutz @1mawh0re

[starzzmissthesun]

i think you should totally drop whatever hc/ideas you have lying around honestly...i would love to see more into ur brain...pls <33

:DD

Hi!!!! Sorry this is a little late, I got so distracted with an animatic im working on(😈) and then a stupid essay😭😭 being honest rn... Almost all of what I've been thinking about is my fic.. 😔

But!! I can still go a little into that without spoilers. I've finally figured out The Perfect ending for this story that I feel fits with the overarching themes I wanted to tell. I've been making sure that every little detail fits with the themes I wanted to show, I wanted it to overlap Regulus and barty's characters and their overarching themes with PD. I also didn't want to just replicate PD cause I feel like that doesnt have the depth or commentary I want to out into it. Idk ive always thought it's super fun to put everything as some sort of symbol or metaphor or foreshadowing. I'm like literally so close to being done drafting and then I can actually talk about it a little more😭

Anyways! I've also been thinking about barty post regs death 😔(when am I not) But more specifically how every memory he had would almost be tainted, everything now would have an air of questioning and unsureness. Even memories where Regulus isn't there, just wondering where was he? What was he thinking? Am I remembering this right? What could've I changed? What was the domino that caused all of this to happen? Eventually finding it hard to accept the way it really was, having the "I guess it was" and feeling it, but overintellectualizing it. His logic and reasoning is his downfall in this situation, that's what makes him go crazy. (Side note I NEED to make a little post about his intersection between intelligence and madness) Hes doing a complicated version of when there's a task that seems so simple that you think it's a trick, but it's not, it's just that. What happened with Regulus was just that.

Also, I've recently self reflected and realized that a lot of my barty characterization is similar to how I think of Leonard Cohen's art(who I LOVE LOVE LOVE) Idk if you've listened to him or read any of his work, but I HIGHLY suggest it, it's perfect for fall. Anyways, a lot of his songs and poems carry themes of having a twisted self image, not completely self deprication though it may seem, but something else. It's closer to understanding and knowing that you are. Different. And unconventional. It's an uncomfortablility he has with himself. Being soemthig twisted from what you should've been. A lot of his stuff is also to do with tragically losing someone, out of their own choice, and still feeling very loyal yet bitter. Also of loving something so much that it turns dark, or it goes too quick, it spirals. Also his love songs are very barty's perspective on bartylus to me. And like, obvious war mentions. I could give some specific recs similar to barty or them if you'd like.

Another thing is of Regulus and his relationship with his dad. Though I see it completely reasonable if his dad was just kind of, not there and neglectful, it could give very interesting implications to his character, I like it the other way around. Orion seeing what a more carefree attempt at raising a child does and keeping Regulus even closer than he did before. I think Orion always liked Regulus more, despite him being the second, because he was a model son. I don't think he wanted this life or even to have kids, so Regulus being so complacent and in line with what he was supposed to be as a pure blood made him the decided favourite(as much as he could have one). He was always keeping a close eye on Regulus and he could feel it, but he didn't do anything out of place anyways. Orion could tell when he was even thinking something he wasn't supposed to. I believe that, no matter how much she tried, walpurga was too caught in her own head about her duty as a mother to see S+R as anything other than Her Kids, as property that she was supposed to care for and tend to, she obviously loved them, but couldn't see through them. But Orion was there around every corner looking through regulus' eyes into his soul to search for any thing out of his perfect kid.

Anyways.... That's all I can think of rn😭 but if you have questions about ANY of them lmk!!! I love yapping about my little thoughts 😁😁

[hiskillingjar]

i am so obsessed with ur writing 🩷 this is actually really tame but i feel weird requesting it lol. could i get ren (or anyone really) with a reader who has a small chest (boobs? breasts? tits??). havent felt insecure about them in so long until recently and im spiraling. u can go from there with whatever u want. thank u!!

thankl you!! i've been literally all about boobs lately so....yeah alright!

900+ words, fem mc, chest referred to as breasts and boobs. you know how it goes.

Your entire life had a subtext now, which you were beginning to learn during your imprisonment.

You were watching placidly as Ren put together a new anime figure, his little, pink tongue poking out as he carefully lined up each notch of shiny plastic and pushed them together, all contributing to the elaborate diorama that he had probably spent way too much money on.

You might have rolled your eyes at his childish indulgence, his total lack of awareness as he put together a model of a busty cat-girl trying to hold a towel to her heaving chest, had you not been having a slightly…well, self-conscious moment about your own body.

Because there was that subtext now.

The lingering thought of not being good enough for Ren, so much so that he had to fulfil what you couldn't give him with perverted toys and crudely drawn pornography.

"You don't…really like girls like that, do you?" You mumbled, idly chewing the inside of your cheek.

"Hm? Like what?" Ren asked, not looking up from the task at hand as he slid a miniature plastic towel rack into place on the thick base.

"Like," You sighed and rolled your eyes, almost annoyed at yourself for asking. "This character…do you really think she's that pretty?"

"Yeah, of course I do!" He said, looking up like you were saying the obvious. "She's one of my favourites for a reason, you know, she's a total cutie pie. Like, she's depicted as heavier in the manga, obviously, but I really like that the anime was mostly faithful to her body type and skin tone." He was rambling now, as his eyes went back down to his figure and he smiled even wider. "Cus, ya know, you don't tend to see anime with chubbier girls, let alone anime that merchandisers pick up on...."

"Mph," You looked to the side, embarrassed that you had been so self-conscious to begin with. "R-Right…of course."

"What, are you jealous?" Ren then asked, his golden eyes on yours again and a coy smile on his face

"I'm not jealous!" You said quickly, looking back towards him. "It's just…well, i-it's typical that you'd think like that." You huffed and crossed your arms. "You don't actually care about…well, representation or whatever. You just like girls like that."

"Girls like what?" He grinned again, his fox tail wagging as you stammered and over-explained.

"Like…" Your cheeks flushed. "Big boobs and stuff."

"Mm, that sounds like you're jealous. Jealous over a girl that doesn't even exist, hah!" He barked out a hyena-esque cackle and leaned over his desk, bringing his face closer to yours. "Well, what's wrong with liking curvy girls? Obviously, it's important that Kitten-Chan is heavier, for, like, body positivity stuff or whatever, but…I do just think she's really cute. What's wrong with that, huh?"

"Whatever…" You rolled your eyes again. "Forget I said anything."

"No, no, this is way too cute" Ren laughed, pacing to the other side of his desk, and pressing his chest to yours in a close (and non-consenting) hug. He raised his eyebrows with a smile, looking at you more closely. "You're all flustered and stutter-y. It's pretty fun to tease you like this."

"What are you teasing me for?" You murmured, as his hands drifted down your hips, toying with the tie of your pyjama shorts.

"Because it's cute, and because I want to, duh," Ren replied with another little titter, keening in closer and rubbing his nose against your jaw, down your neck. "And you're such an easy target for it too. I mean, look at you." He leaned in and pressed his mouth to your neck, giving you a quick little nip. "You're even defensive about your boob size~"

"I-!" You yelped at the bite, cheeks flushed and your hands trembling down at your sides. "I'm not…defensive about that..."

Ren then raised his head to look you in the eye, his expression nauseatingly smug and his ears raised high.

"Oh, you're not?" He asked, raising a brow. "Sure is looking like it to me, sweetie…"

He then reached upwards for your chin, lifting your head and holding your gaze as his own narrowed, his expression hot and hungry and dripping with that unspoken subtext between you.

"You have no reason to be self-conscious, you know…" He murmured, the hand on your hip reaching up to your chest, idly pawing at you. "I mean, I like curvy girls, sure, but I like you too." He chuckled again and lowered his lips back to your neck, kissing the spot he nipped as he slid his hand down the front of your tank-top and palmed your breast roughly. "You're the one here, after all."

"You say that like it's a good thing…" You sighed, your hands still trembling from the effort you were putting in not to reach forward and grab his hips like he had to you.

"I think it is…" He replied, running his thumb (his claw) over your swelled nipple, and relishing in the little gasp you let out at the contact, the way you jerked and trembled. "And I think you think so, too."

You bit your lip as he reached forward and pulled the front of your tank down, the barely-there heft of your breasts not enough to keep it rolled down completely.

"Don't be so insecure, sweetie," He crooned, both hands now squeezing and groping at your chest indulgently. "I like your small boobs a lot…they're just so cute."

"Mm," You bit your lip to hide a fuller moan, your face flushed and your eyelids fluttering with pleasure as his claws dragged over your nipples again.

"And so sensitive~"

[dead-eyes-roll]

QUICK TW: i mention gore briefly, and i talk abt murder, and other bodily gross stuff. also, spoilers for both episodes (so far) of Generation Loss. You’ve been warned.

Wait…

In the first episode (Spirit of the Cabin), the fridge spells out “BEHIND YOU” in magnets.

Theory 1: What if that was Charlie trying to get Ranboo to look behind him at the set. To see the directors, the mall (assuming this set takes place there [yes it does]), and to see that he can leave. To help him.

Because I think that all the major characters (Slime, Sneeg, and The Puzzler, AKA Jerma) we’re contestants before Ranboo, and want to help him get out (Maybe even H was a contestant? [At first I thought “no”, but he had to go through some sort of process before the Founder assigned him his task, right?])

Example One (Charlie): Charlie is supposed to play a villain role, but he makes Ranboo do simple tasks, although he did make fun of him (but the first episode was supposed to be very comedic, it was Gen 1 remember? It’s going to get way darker). And, in Episode 2 (The Mastermind of the Warehouse), he helped out Ranboo again with the whole towel thing.

(On a similar note, I have a theory that Charlie died in Episode 2, a second before Slimetowel made himself known. So when Charlie died, because he was literally gutted, his ghost, The Slime Spirit, another character he plays, acted to help Ranboo. That explains how he can play to characters at once. He didn’t. He died. Because they never go back to the Carousel Room, they stay in the Candy Room, and that room leads to the Fashion Room, which leads to the Toy Room, and we all know where that leads.) (Also, that means Ranboo has been carrying around a bloody towel this whole time.) [i still believe this both of these tbh]

Example Two (Sneeg): Sneeg helps Ranboo during the Hole in the Wall “bit”, and he’s a general ally the whole time. Sticking with Ranboo, and being the first ally of the show, with Episode One.

Example Three (The Puzzler, AKA Jerma): While at first, he seems like he’s trying to kill Ranboo, he isn’t. He worried when he thinks he killed Ranboo (In the first room, when Ranboo passes out from the volts [ha no he DIES]) and he is a generally comedic villain (And I know, that’s the point of the show, to desensitize horror to the point of it being funny, but he never hurts Ranboo), and lastly, just a personal theory. Right before they (The Rats) bring Charlie in from the surgery room, The Puzzler says, “Does anyone hear screaming?” But there was no screaming, Charlie had been making jokes last time we saw him. So, The Puzzler can see (or hear) through the filter, and maybe he was trying to hint to Ranboo that something wasn’t right. [i forgot abt this one! i still think it’s right]

ok, im done now. I know this theory probably isn’t a theory and makes no sense, but it makes sense to me, so, yeah. bye genlosers [just some brainrot]

Edit: I called The Puzzler the riddler lol and I made some changes to try to make things more understandable :)

Edit 2: Okay, so I’ve seen the last episode, and the Founders Cut isn’t out yet, red text stands for my thoughts now.

Edit 3: mk is gonna re-format with blue

[glossysoap]

how’s about we take a little visit to the boys’ pov in chapter 11?

Stop you’re gonna kill me?! I’m already so excited!!! I feel for the boys 😪 the universe really threw a curveball at them that they didn’t deserve, but I just wanna scoop up all the angst you’re serving and eat it for breakfast, it’s so good omg I can see ghost and soap growing a bit of animosity for each other for not telling reader how they feel?! And reader doesn’t even remember them now?!?! asdfghjkl I’m so sorry, I’m just so stupid for your blorbos and this hellhole world you created

I need rtc like it’s my lifeline cause I canNOT wait for ghost and soap to reunite with reader and the three of them to learn to love each other!? UGH I can taste it but I live for everything in between cause it wouldn’t taste as good without the buildup, I need it to hurt 😩

I’m biting my knuckles just thinking about how huge the boys’ regret is for not confessing sooner or being more intimate with them!? And reader relearning their love for the boys???

I’m sorry Im passing away cause my heart can’t contain the possibilities anymore, this is all your fault (affectionate)

-🌻

missed chances

ghoap (for the sake of convenience, that’s what i’ll be referring to them as when i’m talking about ghost and soap) growing a bit of resentment and animosity towards each other, even despite their best efforts, for not telling you how they felt has LITERALLY BEEN MARINATING AND HATCHING IN MY BRAIN FOR SO LONG. SO SO LONG.

because just think about it. the only reason you were so so eager to leave the task force that day and go onto that helicopter was because you felt so.. out of place with ghoap.

with all of their touches and kind words and intense gazes. all of those things that, in your eyes, were reserved for ghost and soap. in your eyes, you were an intruder. someone taking up space.

and why would they need you, anyway? they surely don’t. they’re both pillars of love and strength and willpower — they can do just fine without you. without some third wheel best friend always trailing behind them.

and furthermore, why would they want you? in your eyes, there’s just no way. no way that they meant all of those longing glances or bear hugs. all of those forehead kisses and pet names. they were just being nice. you were the most skilled medic and you always treated them impeccably, no matter how challenging their ailments were — so of course they would be nice to you.

so, in your mind, on that day you were captured, you were tired of being lured in by those intense gazes and warm touches. you were tired of being flustered over their close proximity and feeling your heart pound in your chest. you were tired of having these feelings that would so obviously never be returned.

in that moment, when you had an emergent patient, you saw an opportunity to leave the nerves behind and get back into your element. an opportunity to escape the affection that made you feel all warm and fuzzy, and completely stupid all at the same time.

and the boys could see how relieved you were when a patient had arrived, by the sigh you let out and how quick you were to pass them off to your assistant. thoughts ran through their mind, none of them good. most of them always led back to one - they were scaring you away.

you were getting overwhelmed with all of the attention and affection, especially since you didn’t know about their feelings yet.

so they told themselves that they would tell you first thing once they touched down back at the base. they would head straight to your quarters and sit you down, each of them holding one of your warm, soft hands. they would talk in hushed, soft voices and gaze at you with adoration as they would confess to you. they would tell you how you make their hearts race and their minds muddle into mush when they see you. they would tell you how they look for you in every room they enter. they would tell you how they love you, how they’re in love with you.

at least, that’s what they were going to do. before they returned to find your room empty and you nowhere to be found. before the task force had to watch the footage of you being captured on that helicopter.

now, when you ambush them later on that highway, all brainwashed — that just makes it worse.

it was one thing for them to think of you as being dead for so long, but it’s a whole ‘nother thing for them to find out that you were tortured (still being tortured), your arm was amputated and you were brainwashed. turned into a killing machine.

so, not only did they blame themselves for you “dying,” but now? now they blamed themselves for you having to endure a fate worse than death.

and when you said, “who the hell is y/n?” oh, lord. any progress that they had made with grieving? all of the healing? it was all torn away the very second you were revealed to be alive and that your memories were erased.

i cant wait for them to reunite either!!! we’re on the same wavelength!!! but YES OMG THE BUILDUP ALONG THE WAY IS WHAT MAKES IT EVEN BETTER

and don’t you worry because you’ll be gettin FED with the buildup!! the boys yearning for you now that they know you’re alive??? check. the boys searching for you everywhere they go? check. you dreaming of little flashes of them? dreaming of soaps cerulean eyes? dreaming of ghosts gentle touches? check. check check checkkkkkkkk

omg they have SO many regrets. SO MANY. remember in chapter 2 i believe, where ghost and soap were thinking about how they would confess to you? and ghost was worried about scaring you off? and how he said they shouldn’t just kiss you out of the blue?

yeah all of that sounds laughable now. they WISH they would’ve just pulled you close to them and held your face with their big hands and pressed their lips to yours. they wished they could’ve felt how smooth your lips were and how soft they were. just like everything else about you, you were soft and fragile in contrast to their rough and callousness. they wish they could’ve tasted you and heard you gasp as they slipped their tongue in your mouth.

they wished that they had hugged you even more. they wished that they had kissed your forehead more. they wished that more than anything, they had pulled you aside and just told you how they felt. they wished they could have made sure you knew how deep their feelings for you ran, that they were anything but just surface level friendliness. they wish they could’ve made you believe that.

because if you had known that they were in love with you, and not in the way that “just friends” are, then you would’ve wanted to stay. you would’ve waited for them to be patched up before you went to see that patient. they could’ve accompanied you to see that patient, and then maybe, just maybe, the redhead’s cover would’ve been blown. and you wouldn’t have been taken.

now. when it comes to you relearning your love for the boys? whewww,, it’ll take some time. because once you come back to the 141 base, you’re still carryin a shit ton of trauma and trust issues. you’re also still battling amnesia and working through all of the brainwashing that HYDRA put you through.. but! at least the 141 knows that you’re safe!

(physically at least lol not safe in your own mind but 🤷🏻‍♀️)

if you’ve read some of my earlier rtc snippets, then you’ll know that when you come back, you don’t wanna stay in your old room. because you don’t feel like it’s yours anymore. it’s like you’re an imposter, impersonating someone that doesn’t even exist anymore. so you take up an empty room and sleep on some twin size cot, and you don’t use a blanket or pillow — because HYDRA never gave you any. that’s all you can remember.

you’re always wary of the 141, until you remember everything. but that takes some time.

with that time, comes plenty of angst. plenty of jealousy, believe it or not. plenty of yearning. plenty of pining.

©️ glossysoap 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.

[antichristual]

a small fic request: some fluff about Papa IV. pairing can be reader insert / one of the ghouls / OC or platonic relationship is okay, too. maybe a birthday fic would be nice...? 😊 thank you in advance if you will write this 🧡

HELLO ANON🫂 !!! this is my first time doing this, im squealing over the fact that people actually sent in requests..literally so sorry it took me so long to post this, i wrote it like two days after you sent this in and then i just never posted it cuz i didnt like it at the time, i think it okay now though, so here you go! also im not sure if this was for your birthday, but if it is then happy birthday :3 most likely very late

You had been part of the ministry for years now, working alongside Sister Imperator, making sure all of the pieces of the tours stayed on track. Keeping them all together was hard work, and it had slowly taken a toll on you. Sometimes the looming idea of another long day amongst ratty organisers felt like carrying a bag of bricks on your shoulders. You were some hardy earthen clay, but this much going on in your head was a hydraulic press.

It had been a rough day, Sister had said it herself as she sipped on a random cup of coffee she had laying across your planning table. You didn’t know how she did it, keeping all of it in and still making such a wonderful outcome. She had kept you in late today, for some odd reason. All the work was done, you’d already stacked all the maps and papers and booking files for the next tour together in one, intimidating pile. Every time you tried to leave though, she would call you back to look over very random things.

“How does this email look? I want it to be perfect.” Sister Imperator mumbled timidly, with a strangely still smile, like she was keeping a terrible secret to herself. Everybody knew she had the most pristine email skills in the world. It should’ve been criminal how that woman could get anyone under her thumbs with the click of send or a meek phone call. Of course though, you nodded and returned to the table. Leaning down, you ignored the crimp ache in your back and read through the— as expected— incredibly well written message. It was condensed but not lacking what it needed. Simple, quick, effective. That was how she rolled, and she executed it with a clean cut every time.

“It’s…fine, Sister.” You replied after a quick pause, holding a heavy drawl in your voice. It was your birthday, for hell’s sake, and all you’d done all day was work. Your eyes hurt, your spine feels twisted and damn…how does your right leg go half numb? Don’t get it wrong, you loved your job; and you didn’t blame anyone for having you labour on your special day. You were just tired, and yearning for your comforting bed in the abbey.

Sister Imperator closed her laptop with a swift hand, the screen coming down across the keyboard silently. A look of sympathy flashed in her eyes, followed with a sparkle of guilt, almost as if she were hiding something from you. “I’m sorry for keeping you in, you know how this gets.” Her hand waved sluggishly over the table. Following her gesture you pondered over her words, eyes fogging over briefly.

“I do, Sister. It’s not a problem. Um…” You looked sideways hesitantly, your bag hanging limp over your shoulder. “Is that all?”

She opened her mouth quickly to say something, and your knees drew somehow more magnetically drawn to the floor at the idea of her proposing another task. In a split moment, her lips sealed.

Sister’s eyes dashed to the doorway behind you, and a riveting smile dashed across her face. Satan, she looked so excited you half assumed you’d turn around and see the anti-christ himself waltzing in with a pretty bouquet of wild roses. Your feet dragged against the floor as you spun to face the door. You were seriously contemplating popping out to go to the store, and maybe grabbing a nice treat so you could at least get yourself something nice on your day. Almost immediately— after your sleepy head processed the sight in the doorway— a sweet warmth bubbled in your chest.

Copia stood there in his usual zip-up jumper, lazy sweatpants underneath, and the most gorgeously handmade cake ever in his palms. Weakly lit candles burned in the middle, lighting up the cute piped icing around the edge. You swayed on your feet with the soft mellow melting down your heavy limbs.

“Happy birthday!” He blurted awkwardly, removing one hand..dangerously..from the cake to make jazz hands…jazz hand? You just stood there, eyes wide and fatigued, a pure smile tugging helplessly at your lips. Copia shuffled forward to put the small cake on the table before he shucked his hands to his hips, a little proud expression over his usual.

[brandogenius]

omg okay the muna personality thing i do the same with people i love analyzing the way a person is a person not in a judgy way but it's just so interesting to me!!

also i think we had a misunderstanding when i asked her drink but idk 😓😓 i meant like the one that barista!reader makes her but she doesn't like...i couldn't tell bc you said smth about different stuff but i agree it makes sense that julien is a shaken brown sugar espresso person they're not overly sweet or anything!

and aw reader giving julien free bakery stuff is so cute!! im imagining them sitting and chit chatting until a customer comes in and reader has to fly out of her seat to take the customers order and juliens just entertained watching them fly around and finish the customers order and as soon as they're done reader is flying back to julien like "hi sorry what were u saying love 🥰"

also imagine reader just being in a silly mood and a little bit of a shithead so she gaslights julien into thinking some random drink is some really well known thing and juliens like 🤨🤨🤨 but drinks it anyway and that's the drink that she's like ":0 omg why did u not make this for me before u need to make this every time now wtf" and reader is like "julien i don't even know what was in that i forgot it was a joke 😓"

also imagine how cute it would be if once they actually started going on dates that julien came in and got her drink and just waited for readers shift to end or if she had to close then staying and waiting on her but ending up helping out with cleaning tasks because she felt bad just sitting there watching reader run around trying to be quick so they could leave

this series of thoughts is sososo cute ugh i love them so much

-🪷

😭😭😭 lotus dw dw it was quite early when i replied to your anon (i literally woke up 5 mins and then started to reply to your message) so half asleep pompom was not with it 😭😭😭

you don’t understand how much i love this sm!! the way you come up with ideas I LOVE THEM SM! this au is adorable i just wanna twirl my hair snd kick my feet ykykyk??

i have SO many thoughts on this i even went as far as creating a pinterest board for inspiration for cafes and overall aesthetic 😭

[freedomfireflies]

ok so i’m sorry for rambling but you’re such a safe account and i feel like i have to get this out somehow 😭 so well, last year i was supposed to go to italy with my parents which i was so excited for and literally couldn’t wait, i was dreaming about going back there for year and was just so happy that we’re gonna go there, everything was ready when well, our car broke down when we were still in the country and had to go back. i was so sad and angry for days, i still have some trauma with it ig, idk it just angered me so bad lmao and anyway this year we’re planning to go again in just a few days which is rather spontaneous and we are going this exact same route we had planned for last year. well, technically the car is fixed but it’s been constantly a disaster, my dad had to bring it to the mechanic multiple times in just a few months. and i have like massive ocd and intrusive thoughts and i always feel like i can’t be too excited for something because then it’ll ruin it and something will go wrong but i also feel like i can’t be too negative cause i’m gonna jinx it. 😭 long story short, im just so anxious and i want this to work out this time so bad, i don’t know what to do. i know it’s silly as hell but it’s really bugging me lol you obvs don’t have to answer me or anything if you don’t want to, i just sort of had to get this off my chest 😭 thank you for reading

Hi!!! I'm gonna answer this here, but if you're not comfortable with that, let me know, and I will take it down ASAP!!

First of all, I'm so glad you feel safe here! You never have to apologize for needing to get something off your chest, and I will always be here to listen!!

Second, this makes perfect sense! Trauma and coping methods can manifest in many different ways and forms. It makes sense that you'd be hesitant about reliving something that caused you so much stress!

I was once stranded in the middle of nowhere with no cell service for six miles, and believe me, I was not too quick to get back in that car going forward!

It's not at all silly to hope that this trip is what you want it to be and that there are no repeats of the last time! Unfortunately, our brains are gonna think things we wish they wouldn't. But...if you can find a way to pull yourself back, distract yourself from going down that rabbit hole, and find a way to accept that whatever happens is gonna happen...you might be okay!

I know that's easier said than done, but sometimes we just have to take each day one tiny baby step at a time. Focus on getting from Point A to Point B. And once you're there, you did it! You can check it off the list and feel good about what you did! Now...you focus on the next task to complete! And if you have to trick yourself into thinking about literally anything else (like looking at cute gifs of Harry, or reading something juicy, or playing some good music), that's okay!

Again, I know this doesn't magically fix anything, and it might not end up being a solution that works for you but...you are not a jinx! You are doing the best you can and I'm proud of you!! 💞 This trip will be wonderful! And if there are some bumps along the way, they'll be stories to tell one day!

[slytherinshua]

ZANNA OMG. I MISSED YOU SM 😔

I am back from the dead.

IM SORRY FOR DISAPPEARING FOR 8 DAYS 😖😖😖

long story short I was just super busy with miscellaneous tasks that I had been procrastinating on since the start of summer break, and I was also kind of in a slump 💔 idk I just wasn't feeling the vibe communication became overwhelming 😔 BUT IM OKAY!! I honestly opened tumblr to write you an ask every.single.day. but I never ended up doing so because. idk 😖 I was still lurking around though and have been reading the new fics they're all so good 👀 the dohoon one 👀 that disco anon requested 👀👀👀 I love you disco anon.

ALSO. I listened to Walk and ATE and ☝️‼️ such bangers. 127's album was so good I liked all the tracks honestly there was no miss. And the title was SO 🗣️🗣️ IT'S SUCH A BANGER. It took me a few minutes to get it, but then it settled with me and ITS SO GOOODDD MARK'S RAP JHONNY'S CHORUS (HE FINALLY HAS LINES), HAECHAN'S CHORUS AND JAEHYUN'S LINES ugh 127 they could never be you

And ate was so good chk chk boom is so cool I love stray kids ☝️ I love them HYUNJIN'S CHORUS PART SOUNDS SO INCREDIBLE

anywhooo I missed being here I'm sorry for leaving what can I do for you to forgive me

I hope you've been doing well!!! how have you been please tell me have you done anything interesting I haven't

-🪿

I MISSED U TOO OMG UR BACK!!!! ITS OKAYY <//3 im glad ur back now 👹 i totally get feeling like communicating is overwhelming esp when you've been procrastinating and catching up on tasks cause that's low-key me rn with my summer courses 😞 aww :(( AND YES I AGREE DISCO IS THE BEST FOR REQUESTING THAT W DOHOON 🥹🥹🥹

YESSS LITERALLY NO SKIPS NCT ALWAYS SLAY SO HARD 🗣️🗣️ i feel like w nct tracks it always takes like 3 listens and then ur like wait no.... song of the year KSJDK LMAO cause im always skeptical of them at first BUT THEN IT HITS ME.

YES CHK CHK BOOM WAS SO SO GOODD ACTUALLY. for skz tracks that have been low-key missing lately i loved chk chk boom like lalalala was good and i listened to it but then i got tired of it rly quick but the chorus on chk chk boom is just the best ‼️

YOU DONT HAVE TO DO ANYTHING IM JUST HAPPY TO TALK TO U AGAIN 🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅 u could leave for like 2 yrs and then come back and i would still remember you so don't even worry abt 8 days 🥹🥹🥹

i also haven't rly done anything interesting sigh... other than writing and going to the beach AGAIN (different beach from last time ksjdks) w my husband (yes i def took these pics the sky is def the same its the same beach def)

and some bonus pics cause my cat is cute and pretty and silly and i love her so i am her personal photographer every day <3

[feralforfrank]

── LOVE CONFESSIONS IN THE DARK.

BRADLEY "ROOSTER" BRADSHAW X FEM!READER

summary you've been tasked to grab your clean clothes from the laundry room during a storm. little do you know, a certain someone has a similar task.

cw ANGST, but it's the last time. FLUFF. kind of bad writing. storms, thunder, the dark. feelings!!! miscommunication fr, definitely not how the navy operates, but idc. NON-DESCRPTIVE READER. TELL ME IF I MISSED ANYTHING.

note THE LONG AWAITED LAST PT3 IS HEREEEE. im feeling kind of...weird about the ending. i like it, but i dont love it. i hope you peeps enjoy it, though!! sorry for taking so long to write and post it :/

2.3K | masterlist

Sunday noon came around quicker than you wanted it. You'd slept until eleven and elected to stay in bed until it was time to eat. When that time came, you ate Penny's homemade burritos that Nix had sneaked in without the boys seeing.

The two of you ate in your bed and then laid back down. Phoenix was literally on top of you, her hands supporting her head. If Hangman were to walk in now, he'd never let her live this down. Badass Nix with messy bed hair, practically cuddling her heartbroken friend. It was a rare sight.

"I'm exhausted, Nix. I wish I'd never opened my goddamn mouth." You sighed, rubbing your temples.

You were tired. After your confession, you raced back here, flopped under the covers and cried, much like the night before. You wanted to take everything back—every word, movement and facial expression. Rooster hated you, and that was the only way you could get close to him—the hatred—but now you've shattered that wall. 

He doesn't like me. I ruined whatever connection we had. Fuck that stupid mouth of mine. Why did I have to react so poorly both times? He's not mine. I want him to be mine. No. Yes. Fucking hell, this headache. Can't we go back to normal—our normal? That has been your train of thoughts for God knows how long, and it was seriously tiring you out.

"Everything will work out for you. Rooster is full of surprises," Phoenix responded reassuringly.

You looked at her weirdly. "What kind of fucking riddle is that? Have you lost your mind?"

She just laughed, sitting up. "Shut up. I know what I'm saying."

You were about to reply when the screech of the bunkroom door caught your attention. "Oh my God!" Fanboy shouted, closing the door again. "Am I interrupting something?" 

You snorted. "Have you never heard of knocking?" You yelled back.

"What are you doing on top of each other, man?" He sounded traumatised. You giggled.

"None of your business!"

"Whatever, man. I came in to tell you it's going to storm real hard soon. Prepare for a blackout."

"Okay, thanks!" You hear the shuffling of feet moving away from your door and groan.

Phoenix makes a move to stand up. As if she knows what you're thinking, she speaks up. "I'm not going."

"Oh, please, Nix! You know how much I hate it down there! Especially if it's storming out," you whine but to no avail.

"You're in the Navy, for Christ's sake. And it's a quick job. Go in, grab the clothes, and come back. I already put them in the dryer. You only have to fetch them."

You groan but get up as well, blindly searching for your phone and earbuds. If you were going in that dark, scary laundry room, you'd at least do it your way. And who's a better companion than Taylor Swift?

It was early in the evening when all lights shut off. The heater in your room stopped groaning, and you concluded that the expected blackout was happening now. Nix was sleeping in her bunk above you, and you sighed. You'd put off going to the laundry room in hopes of Natasha changing her mind, but there was no way you were getting out of it now.

You really didn't want to face Bradshaw, and there was a big chance you would in the hallways. Unfortunately for you, no one has invented time travel yet, so you're destined to bump into him at some point. You work together, for fuck's sake. It's impossible to ignore him forever.

So, you gather yourself, put a hoodie over your t-shirt with the nearest civilian shoes, and plug your earphones before pressing play on Taylor Swift and blindly find the door. The backup generator is up and running, for the hallway lights are on. 

A few people are conversing and leaning on their bedroom doors. Some greet you with a nod and a smile, and you shoot them one back, ducking your head so as not to be spotted by your friends—who are likely hanging out with Rooster.

You arrive at the laundry room and immediately get to work. There's no one else in here, and it's cold. You feel like a child, shivering in fear as if a ghost will pop up from a corner. The music is blasting, and you're grateful, for the eeriness of this place makes you jumpy. Fuck, it's so dark.

Unbeknownst to you, Bradley was also on laundry duty. He'd put it off as much as he could, even paying Hangman to do it once. He hated the silence in that freezing room and how far away it was from everyone.

So, here he was, trying to walk as quietly as possible; so no admiral ghosts pop up to scare him. Lucky for him, he only had to put them in the bin, press a few buttons and be out of there in seconds.

He's startled when he sees you. Well, he spots your back, but he knows it's you. The unmistakable Taylor Swift tune reaches his ears. Bradley leans against the doorframe, watching as you bop your head and slightly move your hips while you hum the lyrics. 

He chuckles. Your undying love for the singer was the cause for your callsign, although not many people knew that. You made up a story about how quick you're in the air—that's why people call you that. But he knows.

And he loves his knowledge over that little detail about you because it's so significant. Bradley loves memorising things about you—from how you struggle to french braid your hair to how you like Heineken beer more than Corona because you don't like the stupid connection it has to Fast and Furious.

I miss you. The words are on the tip of Rooster's lips, but he doesn't dare say them. He wanted to give you space and time to rethink your words because—surprise, surprise—he's been in love with you for God-knows-how long. And he wants you to love him back, truly, but he doesn't want to freak you out. So, he'll gladly settle with watching you dance to Taylor while trying to hide the fond smile taking over his features.

A loud crack of thunder startles the both of you. The place goes completely black. Bradley moves off the doorframe, but you drop the half-filled basket with a gasp. A soft fuck escapes your lips, and Bradley decides to close the distance between you and help.

His hands look for your waist, wanting to help you up. He hadn't thought about how isolated you were from the world. You don't have time to move away from the hands circling around you, and a yelp escapes your lips when you hit something solid. One earbud falls off in the process.

You fight to move away and swat the person—God, please let it be a person and not an actual fucking ghost—with a shirt. You cry for it to get away, but the arms find your waist again while the person hushes you.

Bradley. It's Bradley. He's holding you tightly, shushing you, and you gulp deep breaths, trying to calm down. Your heart beat fast from what has happened, and because holy shit, Bradley Bradshaw is holding you.

You have to move away—your skin is on fucking fire. So much for ignoring him.

You push him, turning on your phone's torch. "What the fuck, Bradshaw? I almost had a heart attack." You hit him with the shirt you're still holding.

"I didn't mean to scare you. I was here to do my laundry, but the lights went out." He leaves out the part where he watched you dance. "I heard your basket fall, and I wanted to help."

And suddenly, oxygen is no longer making its way to your lungs, and your whole body is tense. Bradley is right here, in front of you, staring at you with his hands on his hips. And he also knows how you really feel about him. He has to go now.

"You, uh, you can go do your thing," you stutter, pushing your hair out of your face, your eyes never finding his. "I'll finish this on my own."

"No." It's nothing but a statement. "I'm not leaving you all alone down here."

Your heart warms, and the corner of your mouth lifts oh-so-slightly.

"Aren't you doing your laundry?"

"Fuck that. I'll do it tomorrow."

"Alright." You get back to picking your clothes out of the bin.

The silence between you lies somewhere between tense and comfortable. You feel at ease with Rooster here, knowing that no harm will come to you before him, but you can't help but feel awkward since he knows about your feelings now. The lights turn back on, and you have to make your blush disappear before he notices.

You ignore how your stomach turns—butterflies and anxiety—and close the washing machine bin's door when you finish. Well, you at least try to. The door won't latch, making you look like an idiot pushing the washing machine for no reason.

"Here, let me help." Oh my fucking God.

Rooster is hovering above you now, his hand replacing yours. He pushes the machine's door hard, and you hear the satisfying click. 

You can feel his breath down your shoulder, but you try not to tense. Your head spins to him involuntarily, and your eyes meet his. Your eyes fall from his eyes to his lips, and he does the same. Oh my God. Does he want to kiss you?

Your question is answered three long seconds later by him crushing his soft lips onto yours. It's like how all those novels and poets describe it. Instant fireworks. Your body tingles, and your heart pounds so hard that you think it'll rip off your chest. His hand encircles your waist, and you tighten your hold around a random shirt.

He's doing this out of pity. And just like that, the dream you've had for God knows how long is shattered by your own thoughts. You have to pull away.

"W-We can't do this, Rooster."

Your eyes meet his as you touch your lips. They're tingling, scratch that, your whole body feels like it's been electrocuted. He looks hurt and confused as he pants a few feet away from you.

"Why?" It sounds so sad.

"B-Because you don't like me, Rooster. I know you hate me, but I don't want something I've dreamed of for so long to get destroyed because of your silly antics." You sound even sadder.

"Is that what you think?"

"It's not a thought, Bradshaw. I know it. I've seen it with my own eyes." Tears have gathered in your eyes. Fuck, those mood swings.

Bradley exhales deeply. "I don't hate you, Swift. Never in my life have I felt what I feel when I'm around you. I feel all hot and tingly when you walk past me. My cheeks burn like a kid when your comments involve my love life, because deep down, I want you to be the protagonist of my fantasies, not some random girl I met at the Hard Deck.

Your jokes and your talent, your wit and your beauty—I love them. Your charm and ability to persuade everyone into doing chores for you are my favourite. I love listening to you talk, sarcastically or not, because you always have something to say.

Do you know how many times I've eavesdropped on you and Phoenix so I could learn more about you? I know about your hatred for Fast and Furious movies, your obvious Taylor Swift adoration, and the one time you got hammered and thought you were talking to her. 

I love knowing all those details about you, and it's not because I can use them against you. They're what make you...well, you! You're nothing like the girls I've met in my life. You're extraordinary, and I..."

He hesitates.

"Is this...Did Natasha put you up to this? I swear I don't want your pity and fake love confessions, Bradley. You don't have to pretend to be in love with me—"

"But I am! I am madly in love with you. The kind of love that is so dangerous and—and so crushing. I want to be with you every second of the day, annoy you, and make you smile. It's all I've ever wanted for years now."

Your eyes are wide and glossy, eyebrows raised in shock and confusion, and so many emotions. 

"I love you, Swift," he confirms.

"Prove it." Your words are merely a whisper.

Despite the hard rain and thundering outside, your voice is the only melody in Bradley's ears. And he doesn't hesitate. He crushes his lips against yours again, this time with hunger, passion, frustration and love. You kiss back with just as much force, but before you know it, you're pulling back, gasping for breath.

Bradley's hands are cupping your cheeks, and his forehead is touching yours. Your breaths mingle as you stare up at him. Your fingers grip his shirt tightly. 

"Is that enough proof for you?" He whispers.

You lightly shrug. "I still haven't forgiven you for almost calling me a slut." That's a lie—you have. You forgave him as soon as your head hit the pillow yesterday. He didn't mean it.

He sighs a long, sad sigh. "Please, let me make it up to you. I was a—a jerk. A complete and utter idiot. I don't deserve your love, but please, I need it. Give me a chance to prove how much I love you." Your heart clenches, and a smile tugs at your lips. 

"You can make it up to me as long as you want, Bradley Bradshaw."

He smiles back, and you think; this is it. This is heaven on earth. Bradley Bradshaw—the man you've longed for so long—smiling at you with nothing but adoration. You're heart feels light and free.

You don't want the moment to end.

[tokusaatsus]

this has been in my mind lately, can i request izumi and madara (seperated please!) having a late night drive with their bike with their s/o <33 im having a bikerboy izumi brainrot rn i don't think im okay.

☆—MIKEJIMA MADARA

You’re curled up on the couch in the dorm, feet tucked beneath you as you leaf through the proposals submitted for the next Fes. It’s nearing 11PM, but you’re not tired and you want to try to be productive for a bit, to try and take some pressure off of poor Producer-chan.

Seriously, those guys take her for granted!? It’s no wonder you’re her favourite, what with the way the others treat her…

Chk!

The sound of something hitting the windowpane makes your head shoot up from where you were poring over Valkyrie’s requirements for their next Live. Huh? You dismiss it. It was probably just a falling branch or something.

Chk!

Your eye twitches. It’s fine. It’s fine.

Chk! Chk! Chk!

Oh my fucking God. You stand up, scowling fiercely. I’m going to kill you, you think viciously. Like, who the fuck throws shit at someone’s window at fucking 11:19 in the night? If your poor dormmates had the tragic luck of seeing you right now, they’d probably be cowering in terror at the intense amount of bloodlust emanating from your body.

You slam open the window frame, ready to give whoever it is a piece of your mind, and just narrowly miss getting headshotted by a rock. Only your quick reflexes prevent any lasting damage, and you feel a vein throb in your forehead.

Why, you little…

“Y/N-saaaan!”

Wh. What. You think you may be hallucinating

No way…

You lean over the edge, and standing just below you, so close you could literally reach out and touch him, is none other than Mikejima Madara, in the flesh and definitely not a hallucination.

“Madara-kun…? What are you doing?”

“I wanted to see you!” You flush. Jeez, he’s so honest about these things. He grins when he sees the way you duck to hide your blushing face. And, oh wow. That’s way too bright for 11:27 at night. “Come down!”

You blink. You can’t deny, his face is a welcome sight after 2 or so hours of reading reports in various handwriting, ranging from neat and pretty (Shu-kun) to downright horrible–what you’re certain is a bastardised version of English and Kanji (Chiaki-kun). But you hesitate, because whatever work you leave now means more work for Producer-chan tomorrow.

Still, you’ve found yourself missing him lately. With all his Double Face work, and how you’ve been busy chasing after everyone, you’ve barely been able to spend any time together in the past few weeks. 

Your resolve practically collapses after you take a look at his smiling face. I can’t say no to that face, you lament piteously.

“Yeah, okay…” You concede. You swing one leg over the bottom edge of the window frame, and begin the arduous task of squeezing yourself through the gap. As you teeter precariously on the razor’s edge between safety and–well, maybe not death, but certainly injury–you pause. “Madara-kun, if I fell, would you catch me?”

“Of course.” The answer comes immediately.

You smile at him, softly. “Okay. Hey, Madara-kun. Catch.”

You push yourself fully off of the window, fully trusting the man below you to catch you in his arms. It’s stupid, sure, but maybe he makes you stupid. And your implicit trust is rewarded as you collapse straight into strong arms, like the perfect bridal carry.

“Y/N-saaaan!” Madara cries out. “Why did you do that? What if I didn’t catch you?”

“I knew you would,” You say. “I trust you.”

That makes him pause, just a bit, before he takes it in stride. Still, you can see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. He seems to shake himself, then does an abrupt turn and starts marching towards the dorm entrance. You squawk.

“Ah, Madara-kun, put me down?”

“No way!” He chirps. “What happens if Y/N-san gets cold? I’ll never forgive myself.”

“Madara-kun!”

You smack him, affronted. You are not a delicate maiden, or whatever! Despite the fact that you get cold easily, it’s nothing you can’t handle… Still, you find yourself just a tiny bit grateful for the fact that he exudes warmth like a furnace. You resist the urge to snuggle closer. It would be, frankly, embarrassing.

He comes to a stop in front and you squirm out of his arms, wincing when the wet grass squelches unpleasantly under your slippers.

You freeze, caught in the aura of an absolutely gorgeous being, and you feel your soul cleanse itself just by standing in the vicinity of this beautiful lady. You rush forwards to run your hands over the smooth curves and ridges.

“Oh, Baby-chan…” You sigh. “You’re looking lovely…”

Madara-kun laughs behind you. “Sometimes, I think Y/N-san only puts up with me for Baby-chan…but she is very beautiful, isn’t she?”

“You’ve found me out.” You deadpan. “Baby-chan and I are having an illicit affair.”

“I knew it!” Madara-kun makes a mock-affronted noise, but you can see the faint undercurrent of hurt running through it. Maybe someone else might not have noticed, but you’ve spent enough time with him to be able to tell.

You laugh. “Don’t worry, though. You’re still my favourite.”

He smiles as he mounts Baby-chan. “That’s how it should be~ Anyways, climb on!”

You do so, with necessary wariness as he wears his helmet. As much as you love Baby-chan (and Madara-kun, you suppose…), high speeds are not for you, especially in a vehicle without seatbelts. He revvs the engine, and Baby-chan purrs in a way that sends shivers down your spine. “Ready?” He calls over his shoulder. You tighten your arms around his waist. “Hold on tight!”

And you’re off. The streetlights flare yellow as they catch in puddles of water dripping along the roadside. The scenery blurs as you ride past, a flurry of monochrome–black and grey, the moonlight washing everything out. It’s scary.

It’s beautiful.

Baby-chan growls once again, and you flinch. The way he swerves into hairpin turns makes you feel like your heart is going to beat straight out of your chest and onto the road. Of course Madara-kun would be the adrenaline-junkie sort of driver…

“Having fun?”

“Hng. I think we left my stomach behind a few turns back.” You bury your face into his back, grateful that it’s late enough that no one is out and about to see you being such a baby. So undignified! You feel his chest rumble with laughter. “What are you laughing at?”

“Nothing, nothing! Ah, just…Y/N-san is soooo cute, I want to kiss you right now…”

A beat of silence, while he waits for his words to register in your dizzy brain.

Then:

“HUH!?”

☆—SENA IZUMI

Gorgeous ♡

come to the dorm entrance i have something to show you

You

???

i–

babe what???

Read at 03:31 AM

ok then

omw ig

Read at 03:34 AM

You shove your fingers into your pockets to stave off the cold as you hover nervously near the gates. It’s late, and you’re really lucky ES is pretty lax with curfew. You suppose you have UNDEAD to thank for that, what with all the nighttime Lives they do. You make a note to thank them later.

“Hey,”

You perk up. “Babe, hi! What’s up–oh my God.” Stowing your phone in your pocket as you turn around to catch sight of…

Your boyfriend, dressed impeccably as usual in jeans and a button-up shirt, a leather jacket tossed carelessly over his shoulder (you’re kind of jealous? He looks good in anything. He could probably make a potato sack look good, if you’re being honest?), a silver helmet tucked under one arm. But that’s unimportant. The part you really care about is:

The absolutely gorgeous bike leaning next to him. Silver, with black and chrome tints. A cruiser by the looks of it, with a larger bulky shape, unlike the smooth, streamlined body of Mikejima’s beloved ‘Baby-chan’.

Wow.

Izumi smirks at you. “Like what you see?”

You laugh giddily. “Yes! It’s beautiful.”

“I know.” He scowls briefly as your words register. “I’m not an ‘it’.”

You blink, disconcerted. “I know? I was talking about the bike?”

“Oh.”

You clasp your hands together pleadingly. That bike is the most gorgeous motherfucking thing you’ve ever laid eyes on–second only to Izumi who is literally the single most beautiful thing ever created, so that doesn’t count–and you’ll be damned if you don’t get to ride it at least once.

“Can I drive it? Please? Pretty please?”

Izumi scoffs and turns his head away, but you think you can see the faintest colouring of pink rising in his cheeks. “Sure, whatever.”

He tosses you the keys, and you suppress a squeal. “Best boyfriend ever! Did I ever tell you how I am literally, like, sooooo in love with you?”

“Ew, stop being gross!?”

You roll your eyes lovingly, because if you look up tsundere in the dictionary Izumi’s face is probably the first picture you’ll see. You hop on the bike, and motion for Izumi to follow after. He does so hesitantly, a sour look forming on his face, but you’re too busy running your hands reverently over the sleek metal fastenings to notice.

“Hime~chan,” You murmur, slow and sensual, trying to channel your inner Izumi, the one who’s a part of Knights, who has fans thirsting over him on Tweeter. “Let me give you the best night of your life~”

“Are you…are you dirty-talking a motorbike right now?”

Izumi’s voice is full of derision and barely-concealed annoyance. You turn to look at him. “Who else would I dirty-talk to?”

The subsequent affronted look that appears on his face makes you want to burst out laughing. You force yourself to think of sad, depressing things so you don’t. Sad puppies, sad Mikejima’s, Hakaze when he tries so Goddamn hard to get a date… Yup, that’ll do it.

You revv up the engine, revelling in the roar that vibrates through your fucking bones. “Izumi, are you holding on?”

He places his hands lightly upon your shoulders, and you giggle before reaching behind you to tug his arms tightly around your waist because that’s not going to save him from being thrown off. He makes an aborted sound before he goes silent. “Ready?”

He taps a single finger against your hip, agreement, and you don’t waste a second before you’re tearing across the asphalt like this is Tokyo Drift and you’re the main character (does this make Izumi your love interest?).

The wind tears through your hair, and you know it’s going to be Hell to detangle later, but hey. What’s the use of having a sexy, sexy supermodel boyfriend if he doesn’t pamper you sometimes?

You speed up, just a bit. Just for the thrill. Head thrown back, you laugh as you swerve a perfect U for the next turn, loud and wild and free.

You can feel Izumi’s heart beating a panicked staccato against your chest, so you make an effort to slow down. His grip is tight, nails digging into the curve of your hips, face buried into the curve of your neck. His breathing gradually lessens from the terrified high it had been earlier and by the time you stop in front of the Starmony Dorms, it’s evened out entirely.

You pat the tail-end of the bike lovingly as you flick the kickstand out with the toe of your sneakers. “Oh, Hime~chan, you were wonderful tonight~ I had so much fun!”

Izumi reaches for you at the same time you turn to face him and you find yourself pinned against the wall, his hands framing either side of your head. “I… Izumi?”

“You’re sooo annoying, did you know that?” He huffs. “This whole time, you haven’t looked at me once. What’s up with that? Do you think your bike,”–“Hime-chan,” you correct, much to his annoyance–“is better than me?”

“N-no, of course not.”

“Then what does ‘Hime-chan’ have that I don’t!” Izumi’s brows are furrowed. You soften.

“Aw, babe, if you were jealous you could’ve just told me…” You say, ignoring his mutter of ‘I’m not jealous’. That’s adorable…! “You’re always number one in my heart!”

You lean forward to knock your forehead against his. He wrinkles his nose cutely but doesn’t pull away or complain about the close proximity, just entangles his fingers with yours. “I love you more than anything, okay?”

A mumbled ‘okay’ is your only response, and you smile.

The night sky smiles down on your lover, and you. What more could you possibly need at this moment?

OMAKE:

“When you said ‘Hime-chan’ is gorgeous, did you mean more gorgeous than me?”

“Oh, my God.”

☆—notes!

WC: 2k words

HOLY SHIT wtf i wrote. 2k words. for THIS??? huh??? ty anonnie for fuelling my brainworms, now i have fuckin leather jacket bikerboys on the brain sobs. ik my subtle mama bias is showing but ur honour i love him. also i hc babychan as a naked bike since she’s pretty sleek as far as i can tell? + her handlebars are thinner and i don’t think she has a front windshield so yeah… anyways i saw this as my chance to ramble abt bikes (bcuz bikes are my guilty pleasure!!) so im sorry if u learnt shit abt bikes u didn’t need to know. also tokyo drift is a fast&furious movie jsyk!! not me subtly dragging kaoru LMFAO i swear i love him. i hope u enjoyed this anonnie <3!! bcuz i rlly had fun writing this (which is why it’s so long incase u couldn’t tell sobs)

[bump1nthen1ght]

Late Night Favor (Shadow Monster x Reader)

Genre: Fluff, Urban Fantasy

Warnings: Explicit content up ahead (18+ ONLY), Oral, Fingering

Word Count: 4000 Words

Summary: A couple of small good deeds leaves you with a late night visitor, looking to repay a debt.

Request: "You unknowingly rescue a shadow monster and bring it home with you, after a couple days of lurking in the shadows of your home and recuperating it shows you just how thankful it is." I had this idea forever ago but was never able to execute it. My opening idea was that a few kids are shining flashlights at something, tormenting it, and you swoop in to save it and chase the kids away. You thought they were hurting a cat or something, but find nothing and head home.

What do you think? Would you like to take it on? I'd be honored if you would 😊

A/N: *Throws this into the street to appease for the fact I haven’t updated Out of the Woods in THREE MONTHS IM SORRY*

It was the perfect weather for a lazy day inside. The pitter patter of the rain on your window had almost lulled you back to sleep during breakfast, and the thunder had provided great ambiance for reading. You hadn’t bothered changing out of your pajamas and we’re enjoying a soap opera binge on the coach when the peace was disturbed.

At first it was just the sound of clattering trash cans, not uncommon from the alley outside your window. But then it was followed by the raucous laughter of teenagers, rocks being thrown against the concrete, and a sharp hissing.

You hoist yourself up and off the couch, meandering toward the balcony, expecting to see a bunch of kids fucking around; Maybe using the cover of the fire escape to hide from the rain and smoke some weed.

Ah, memories.

But instead, you see a huddled group of boys pointing a flashlight into the pile of garbage right by the dumpster. One of them picks up a pebble and throws it into the light beam, causing another hiss and a jerk of movement. The boys laugh even louder, the one on the right nudging the one with the flashlight.

“Dude, do it again!”

Flashlight agrees, quickly moving the light into another corner as the one on the left throws a rock in the opposite direction. A shape of pitch black hisses again, deterred by the rock and scared by the brightness. Your brow furrows.

“Hey!”

The boys jump, looking in all directions.

“What are you three doing down there?” They finally look up at you, messy-haired and bleary-eyed. They shrug and ignore you, one even throwing another rock, bigger than before. There’s a sad yelp as it collides with the blackness.

You grit your teeth, grabbing your jacket off a nearby shelf and yell again.

“Fuck off! Leave the poor thing alone!”

They all laugh insufferably, the way most stuck up teenagers do.

“Or what?”

You shrug on your raincoat, picking up the baseball bat you keep strategically placed by your couch.

“Or I’ll come down and make you, jackass!”

You kick open your  fire escape, slippers already damp, and start marching down the staircases. The boys get the message and run away, still jeering and laughing. Seems you weren’t as intimidating as you’d like.

You shuffle down the fire escape, slowing down as you approach the poor creature. You lower your back and peak under the dumpster.

“It's okay, little guy, I won’t hurt ya.” You set down your bat and crouch, kissing your lips as you hold out your free hand. All you see is a hint of glowing eyes, nervously peering out, before the dark shape disappears completely, hidden by the shadow of the dumpster. You’re tempted to sit down and wait for it, hoping to check if the poor stray was injured, but the wet concrete looks unappealing. The bottom of your sweats are already drenched.

You stand up, sigh, and go back up the fire escape. You unlatch the dusty pet door on your sliding glass balcony and make sure to leave a hot thing of milk and some water just outside. You ponder going out to get cat food, but the well-timed weather report tells you to stay off the streets. Slumping back down on the couch, you keep on eye on your fire escape, hoping that whatever it was, it’s okay.

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

The next day is sunny, the rain clearing away any air pollution and leaving blue skies to shine down through your window, waking you up extra early. As you sit down with a cup of coffee, switching on the news before starting work, you notice the empty bowls on your balcony.

You set down the mug, walking over to the door and checking the bowls. Seems that little stray had needed the refreshment, as both were licked clean.

You refill them, making sure to add  cat food to your grocery list.

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

After a long day of work, you’re feeling particularly domestic and decide to bake some cookies. Your brain is sore after staring at a screen for eight hours straight, a simple task like this is the perfect thing to keep it from melting completely.

You open up your window, letting the cool night air into your kitchen as you check  on your baking cookies. Wiping flour off your pants, you turn on the radio and throw a glance to your living room.

You had set up a tiny blanket pallet right next to your pet door, the weatherman’s warning of another thunderstorm tonight having you worried for your stray. Hopefully a full belly of milk will convince them that your house is safe enough to find shelter in.

But the afternoon is beautiful, not too cold and not too hot, only the slight tang of metal in the air hinting to rain. With a ding from the oven, you take out the cookies and set them on a cooling tray on your window. The smell of cinnamon and sugar wafts over you as you take a sip of your tea, staring out into the city streets. Small puddles still speckle the pavement, catching the headlights of nearby cars and flashy billboards.

A quick sound, something hitting your balcony door, that jerks you out of your reverie. You set down your mug and slowly peek out from your kitchen, wondering if you should’ve grabbed  a kitchen knife. But it’s just your pet door, flapping back and forth in front of two, now empty, bowls. Aww, seems your stray took a step inside. Too bad you missed it.

The gurgle of your stomach convinces you to take a crack at the cookies. If they were too hot, you could just wash them down with a nice glass of milk anyway. Maybe even put on a sitcom while you snack.

You lightly tap the top cookie; Warm, but not unbearable. Steam rises as you break it open, blowing in the middle and taking a tiny bite.

Fuck, good job _____.

They’re perfectly done, just soft enough to melt in your mouth. You grab two more, holding them in between your fingers as you hold the other half in your mouth. Maybe you could bring the batch into work tomorrow, give your coworkers a nice surprise. That is if you didn't have 10 tonight. But 20 should be just enough-

Huh, that’s weird. There's only 19, including the one still dangling out of your mouth.

You could’ve sworn you baked 20.

Well whatever. Your coworkers can handle not coming back for seconds tomorrow.

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

“Ow! Fuck!”

You bite your lip, trying not to yell out more curse words as you rub your stubbed toe. You limp to your kitchen, fumbling for the light switch to avoid another incident. All you had wanted was a midnight sweet snack, was that so difficult? You’d thought you could navigate your apartment pretty easily in the dark, but the pain in your foot says otherwise.

The light flickers as you finally find the switch, reminding you that you’re going to need to change the bulb sometime soon. But that's a problem for another day; Right now, it’s cookie time.

You don’t bother pouring yourself a glass or getting a plate, devouring the treat in three bites and throwing back a quick swig of milk. It’s almost midnight, not like anyone’s watching-

Oh, wait.

You slowly close the fridge door, trying to make as little noise as possible so as not to wake the little stray curled up, asleep. The little ball of black was snuggled into the pallet, tossing and turning. A flash of lightning cracks outside your apartment, washing your living room with light. The ball jerks in shock, the thunder afterwards only frightening it more, forcing it to curl up even tighter.  

You take small and light steps towards the tiny bed, not wanting to approach the scared beast too quickly. The room is lit up again by another lightning strike and the little stray forces it’s body backwards and away from the window. You crouch down real low, the small bits of light helping your eyes adjust to the layout.

“How are you doing, little guy?” You whisper, mostly to yourself, tapping your fingers against your carpet. Part of you wants to pet it, but think it might be better not to. No need to startle it. “Is the lightning scary? You can come to my room if you want, I’ll protect ya.”

Midst the black, you see two little eyes, little blips of light that open with another flash of lightning. But they aren’t yellow, nor are they slitted, nor are they anything remotely animal.

They're like the headlights of a car, blinding white with no definition at all. Not even pupils. You're startled, eye’s widening as the creature lifts it’s head. A long smile runs across their face, full of razor sharp teeth.

“Oh my, that sounds delightful.” They purr, and you find yourself losing your footing and falling back on your ass. Your fingers dig into the carpet as their body slowly begins to unfurl out of a ball and stretch into a massive form, as if their whole size had been hidden away somewhere else; Like it had been literally in the shadows.

You scramble backwards, breath picking up as the creature stretches it’s long limbs, colorless eyes still locked onto you as it stands up and up. It rolls back its shoulders as it sits on its haunches, its form still towering over you even when crouched. You notice the shades of huge antlers sticking out from the side of their head, only adding to their intimidating height.

The creature still has that terrifying smile, all canines and no molars, it’s unblinking eyes still staring deep into your soul.

You’ve heard people do weird things in times of high stress, of strong emotions, good and bad. Like the wires in your brains get crossed when trying to find the right response.

“Uh, do you want a cookie?”

You think you get that now.

The creature chuckles, a soft timbre that echoes unnaturally.

“No, dearie, I have already indulged in your confections. You see,” They creature leans forward, falling to its knees to crawl towards you. If it weren’t for the overwhelming fear constricting your heart, you’d almost think it was seductive, “You’ve done so much for me these past days, I think it’d be only fair if I helped you indulge in a far-” The creature’s face looms over yours, their arms caging your sides as they lick their lips, “-sweeter treat, yes?”

Your eyes search their face, trying to find signs of trickery or malice, maybe even some demonic sense of humor.

As if I’d even know what that looks like.

“Are you-” You catch a breath, now noticing the fine musculature of their shoulders, and the definition of their arms, “Are you propositioning me, like, for sex?”

The creature laughs again, their eyes crinkling up as they throw their head back. But when they look back down at you, you can almost feel the lust radiating off their gaze, details be damned.

“Yes, lovely, I am.”

You take your eyes off their face, a little too overwhelmed to stare directly into their blistering expression. Not to mention the blinding light which has begun to put red spots into your vision.

Instead, your eyes fall upon their thick thighs, the small tail waving behind them, and how unnervingly sexy you find the way their claws are digging up your rug.

You slowly move your head, catching the creature’s eyes.

“I-uh-I guess? Yeah, yeah I guess that sounds good. Um, what was your name?”

The creature smirks, a single claw tipped finger tilting up your chin, as they whisper,

“Nocter.”

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

Well, this is definitely the weirdest way I’ve gotten someone into bed.

Nocter’s antlers brush against your stucco-ceiling as it pushes you down on the bed, their shining white eyes staring deep into yours. Their lack of pupils is almost unsettling, but when they run their claws down your chest and pinch your nipples, you find it hard to care. You bite your lip, fighting back an embarrassing whimper as they trace one finger around the bud, pebbling the skin.

“Aww, has it been a while, sweetling?” You roll your eyes, but let out another squeak as they flick their thumb across your other nipple, the palm of their hand pressing against your ribcage.

“M-maybe.” You mutter, digging your finger into your bed sheets as their hands dance across your skin. One pulls up the bottom of your pajama shirt as it nudges one of their legs in between your thighs, pushing their knee up against your crotch.

“Don’t worry,” They push the fabric up to your neck, laying a kiss on the center of your stomach, then your chest, and then your jugular. When they plant one on your jaw, they lean in real close, “I’ll make sure to treat you right.”

Nocter’s long tongue splays against your jaw, licking a stripe up your cheek as one of their hands moves from your chest to the waistband of your shorts. They slip a couple fingers underneath, lightly petting the area right above your crotch. They’re such a tease, and you love it.

Nocter pecks the side of your face, over and over, while their hand moves further and further down your body at an agonizing pace. Their hot breath sends goosebumps down your neck, washing over your face as they exhale with every kiss. You catch them off guard when you turn your head toward them, catching their lips-mid peck and eagerly sticking your tongue outward. They purr with delight, their thin almost-lips quickly devouring you.

A long string of saliva connects the two of you as you detach, taking the time to shimmy out of your shirt. You pull them closer, your hands digging into their shoulder muscles and fingers just brushing over the long ridges on their back. They chuckle once again, pulling their fingers out your shorts and merely digging their palm into the fabric of your crotch.

“Eager, huh?”

“Shut up,” You mumble in between kisses, “This is for me, isn’t it?”

“Ohoho,” kiss, “Someone’s showing their feisty side a little early.” kiss, “What happened to my benevolent, saintly saviour?” kiss.

You pull away from their lips, quickly latching onto the crux of their neck and taking a nip. “S’not fair.” You say, taking a deep whiff of their skin as you suck and bite. They smell like brimstone and a bonfire, not quite what you 're expecting, but not unpleasant. “You can’t tease me like that and not-” Your cut off as the pad of one Nocters fingers presses up against your entrance, the fabric only amplifying the sensation as they begin to tease it.

“Deliver?” Nocter finishes, sinfully smug. You throw them a glare. “I’m a good guest, scout’s honor.”

You roll your eyes right before they lock you into another kiss, rubbing the pads of their fingers up and down your crotch. They use their hand to push you backwards, sinking deeper into the mattress as they situate their knees under your thighs. One they pull back from the kiss, your face and lips thoroughly debauched, your legs are splayed up on their pelvis and they easily slip off your bottoms. Nocter takes a whiff of your underwear, the crotch now slightly damp, giving you a wink before they throw it over their shoulder.

You jerk your hips slightly upward, and Nocter tuts.

“Patience, sweetling.” They roll a hand down your abdomen, fingers splaying onto your stomach, nails just teasing the skin. With a kiss to your inside calf, Nocters hand ghosts across your entrance. You can’t help biting your lip, the heat and their touch sending your mind into a frenzy.

They continue a path of kisses down your leg, now pressing their finger right up against your hole. They only pause to suck on their index and middle fingers, coating them with a heavy and blue-tinted saliva. Once they’ve reached the middle of your thigh, nipping at the apex, they sink into you.

Nocter’s fingers are long, articulated and move with sure movements. They start off slow, scissoring you open, simpering as you dig your nails into your bed sheets. The pads of their fingers push against your walls, just grazing sensitive spots as they make a slow ‘come hither’ motion. Your hips jerk forward, humping into their palm. They smirk against your skin, nipping another love bite as they retract their fingers until only the tip remains. You catch your breath, holding it until they sink back into you, shoving their fingers forward with far more force.

You whimper as their fingers pull back, only to follow with quicker thrusts. Nocter’s aim is pin-point in finding the most pleasurable spots inside you, the feeling only amplified by the pinpricks of their teeth into the fat of your thigh. The tip of their tongue licks hot trails of spit tantalizingly close to your hole, which clenches around their bony fingers. The slick sound of your juices, the skin of their palm slapping against yours, is downright pornographic.

Your legs try to clamp around their shoulders, the overwhelming stimuli triggering an instant reaction, but Nocter pins your right leg down to your bed easily, never losing focus on fingering you. The tips of their claws trace the inside of your leg, the hard edge of their wrist digging into fat.  Your fingers reach to grip around something, anything to keep you grounded as the knot in your stomach grows tighter and tighter. They find their way around Nocter’s left wrist; You’re almost afraid you’ll leave bruises, before remembering how sturdy every part of their body seems to be.

You let out a whimper as the crests of an orgasm seem to overwhelm you, nearly gasping as Nocter quickly removes their fingers. In any other state of mind you might have made a comment, look down and wonder why they’ve stopped. But the heat in your belly compels you to grip their wrist tight and to throw your hips upwards. With a desperate breath, you plead,

“P-please! Please, don’t stop.”

Nocter doesn’t chuckle, doesn’t make a sly remark about your neediness or your lewd movements. They lean forward, giving another kiss right below your navel, and pet your wrist.

“Of course, dearie.”

With a wink, they lean down a lick a long stripe up your hole, giving one last kiss to your leg before plunging their tongue inside.

You didn’t think it was possible for them to reach even deeper inside you with their tongue than their fingers, but the sparks which fly in your core say otherwise. The ridges of Nocters tongue brush against your walls as they flick the appendage back and forth, the tip pressing forward with controlled motions. It doesn’t thrash back and forward haphazardly, but reaches for those sensitive spots and plays with them.

“Oh, f-fuck!” You yelp, feeling an icy-cold liquid run down your ass. From the sound of smacking lips and muffled moans, it must be Nocter’s saliva. They let out a groan, pushing their jaw forward as their eyes clenched shut. The hand on your leg pinches skin as it tightens up, the other pressing your hips down, but the pressure they apply is phantom at best. Nocter seems to revel in your pleading humps for more, meeting each movement with a thrust of their jaw, the base of their tongue stretching you open.

The two of you keep that rhythm for what feels like an eternity, but is probably only a couple of minutes. Sweat drips down your chest and off of your belly, your legs muscles on fire as you continue to push upward and into Nocter’s face. You start feeling that impending wave begin to crest again, with your limbs shaking and your throat hoarse.

“Nocter, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna-I’m so close!”

This time, Nocter doesn’t let up on their pace, reaching one hand down to deliver a hard slap on your ass and forcing a yelp out of you. Your speech devolves into slurred curses and your hands move to touch them, to find some grasp in reality. Nocter continues to suck and tongue-fuck your hole as your thighs clench around their head. Your humps are tiny and weak, your lower half barely holding itself up.

The knot gets tighter, a firecracker fuse about to blow in your abdomen. In the heat of the moment, your hands find their way to Nocter’s scalp and grab onto the base of their antlers. Their moan rumbles through you, right before you yank their head forward, their tongue hitting the deepest part of you as you shutter and-

“I’m cumming!”

Another moan vibrates against your hole as your body shudders and jolts, your hips still pressed firmly against Nocter’s face. But in the next moment, a heavy weight falls over your body, slumping you down onto the bed. Your chest heaves, eye’s fuzzy as Nocter’s tongue ‘pop’s out of you.

Your gaze wanders over your stucco ceiling, droplets of sweat rolling down your neck as you try and catch your breath. You can feel Nocter’s large hands rolling a massage into your thighs, their own heavy breathing brushing over your crotch.

A fuzzy shape of pure black comes into your vision as Nocter hovers over you, their body hovering just an inch above yours. They give you a small peck on the cheek.

“Feel good?” They whisper.

All you can do is nod, your shaky hands wandering over their back. There’s no sign of sweat on their skin, but you can feel the heat running off of it as they nuzzle into your neck.

As your fingers dance over the ride of their back, you can hear the rumble of a low purr coming from their chest, but they stay hovering over your body. You press your hands into their back, applying weak pressure to encourage them to relax.

“It seems I’ve repaid my debt.” Nocter murmurs into your ear, pushing themselves up onto their hands, pulling even farther from you as their eye’s look around your room. You keep your hands wrapped around their waist, stopping them from fully getting up. They look back to you, white eyes slightly widening.

“Would you-” You take another deep breath, “Want to stay? For the night?”

Nocter stares at you, the black void of their face almost unreadable. But when they run a claw down the side of your face, it burns with affection and longing.

“Would you want that?”

Your room is nearly pitch black, only the lights of the street peeking in between your curtains. Nocter’s body seems to absorb all light near it, their hot body like a heating pad. But their eyes are so bright, so full, so mesmerizing; Like a full moon on the dark city sky.

“Yes, I would.”

Nocter’s nods, their expression barely changing, but you think you can see a hint of a smile amidst all the black. They let their body relax, pressing their chest against yours as they sink into the sheets and nuzzle back into your neck.

You can smell the sweat coating your body and feel the way you stick to the sheets. Frankly, the both of you kind of smell.

But it doesn’t stop you from snuggling into Nocter’s body, eye’s heavy as you peacefully fall into sleep.

[readyandnot]

holy fuck. here we go.

SAM/DARLIN THOUGHTS:

(spoilers under the cut)

first of all- COLOR CHANGE LOVE IT

second of all- THE TITLE MY FUCKING GOD

“vampire MATE” “MAKES YOU A PROMISE” 🥺

okay lowkey disappointed we didn’t have a call with david but no big deal lmao he’s mentioned anyway

“i already know what you’re thinking darlin” NO YOU DONT…

“like hell i don’t” okay fine maybe you do-

well fuck me sam knows darlin too well, love him for that <3

“hey. look at me, please.” GOD DAMMIT ALREADY???

SAAAAAM YOURE SO SOFT FOR NO REASON

I JUST LISTENED TO HIS BA THIS WEEK AND I KNEW HE WAS SOFT BUT FUCK ITS STILL EFFECTIVE

his breath of relief when darlin looks up at him. THATS GOTTA BE ANOTHER LEVEL OF TRUST. ESPECIALLY WITH THE FACT THAT MOST PEOPLE PROB STRUGGLE WITH FOR FEAR OF TRANCING-

and darlin looks up with no hesitation. i love these two omfg

“i know. and i’m not judging you for it. i get it, i feel it too.” and there’s my first hand up to the face.

“my first thought was to run up there and end this fucker too.” HE UNDERSTANDS. OF COURSE HE DOES HES SAM FOR GODS SAKES

“darlin you know that’s not what i’m saying.” HES SO STEADY AND CALM LIKE FUCK IF HE ISNT PERFECT FOR DARLIN-

“give me a second, please” the trust these two have for one another my fucking god

“they can bring him down now there’s enough heat for them to do something about it”

sam i get it and i want to believe that, but when had the department been quick about something besides the fl and vega situation? and he still isn’t caught after the breakout, neither is regulus. if i’m wrong then i’m wrong but it’s also not where i think the story might be heading so i’m having doubts that it’s just gonna end with quinn in custody. that’s too easy.

“when i had to stand in front of them and explain what he did to my progeny”- FRED AND BRIGHT OMFG

“it’s fucked up.”

what i love more about this is that sam truly understands the frustration first hand. he knows the suffering behind waiting and nothing being done. he can truly understand darlin and help them to the best of his abilities and not bullshit them. he literally tells them his thoughts about when he first heard and what he wants to do, but he knows what’s best and to stay calm.

“for once you don’t have to do it alone. so don’t do it alone” sam, you’re gonna fucking break me.

“i’m asking you to promise me something. promise me you will let the department try to handle all this” darlin better not break this promise istg-

DAVID AND ANSEL MENTION LETS GO

SWEETHEART MENTION LETS FUCKING GO SAM KNOWS THEYRE POWERFUL AF AND GREAT AT THEIR JOB

“hey, i’m not asking for this to be one sided though. if you promise me you’ll let them try without running off on your own, then i promise you, if he keeps at it, if he keeps hurting innocent people and they still haven’t gotten him, then you and i will hunt him down. together. and we’ll take that freak to task. no half measures. no holding back. we do whatever we have to, to bring him down. can you promise me that?”

“i promise” “okay, then that’s what we’ll do”

MY GOD YES I LOVE THEM SO MUCH. THE TRUST AND THE LOVE AND SUPPORT.

“come here.” AHHHHH IM SOBBING HUGS YES PLEASE

“i know darlin. i know..” FUCK- AND KISSES TOO AHHHHH

“it’s cause now you got more things to lose again.”

this is a point that’s been brought up into light for a while now. the fact that darlin wasn’t wrong in wanting to do this on their own from the start, because they didn’t have a lot to lose. they were separated from the pack, and therefore making quinn feel like attacking them wouldn’t work on darlin. and it makes sense. but like sam is about to say, it’s a reason to go back and live instead of dying alongside it.

LOVELY MENTION WOOOOO

OH MY GOD FRED AND BRIGHT MENTION YET AGAIN

i’m not kidding when i heard sam say that I SLAMMED MY FISTS AGAINST MY PILLOW IN EXCITEMENT AT THE MENTION OF THEM.

because NOW especially with redacted saying “old characters coming back” MAKES ME THINK WE MIGHT SEE THE RETURN OF FRED AND BRIGHT. ITS A LONG SHOT I KNOW BUT ITD BE FUCKING SICK.

i wasnt around when fred and bright were on the channel, and that hurts me to this day lmao because i’ve gotten so curious on what they were like and how sam was (even if he was an asshole). i still would’ve loved to hear how it was, and based on what people have said, yes sam is probably better off without that playlist leaving a bad taste in peoples mouths, but it’s still intriguing, whether he was bad or not. it also leaves more room for growth in the good he has done and what he has become as a character. idk just my thoughts. because most of us weren’t around and left with curious thoughts, so the return of those two with a somewhat better situation would be insane.

“not to mention they have their own trauma from him” HE RECOGNIZES THAT YES.

“i still feel it like, like a knife in my heart, when fred wakes up screaming in the middle of sleep. even when he’s far away from me, he had one of those nightmares when we went up on vacation with your pack. i still felt it. even there.”

that fucking hurts. i wasn’t even around back then but that hurts nonetheless. HE HAD IT ON VACATION IMAGINE HOW SAM FELT LIKE FUCK.

quinn doesn’t have progeny!!!! thank god. he doesn’t seem like the type to like sam said.

“i feel frederick here. always. when you turn someone you give them a piece of yourself. and that never goes away.” AHHHHHHHHHHHH-

also why does that feel like foreshadowing…

“i know the thought of waiting makes your blood boil” WHAT DID I FUCKING SAY-

one of my fav parts: “he’s out there, but he’s also up here.”KISS MOTHERFUCKING KISS ON THE HEAD “in your head”

SAM COLLINS YOU FUCKING DREAM OF A MAN I CAN ONLY IMAGINE DARLINS FACE WHEN HE DID THAT

“the rest of the the fight is right here, inside here. you can’t let him own your mind. if your every waking thought is of him, then he wins. without having to life a finger. it’s easier said then done believe me i know that.” sam’s right, half the battle is mentally as well, darlin isn’t in the right headspace to take him on as they’re full of adrenaline. and while he can’t be every thought, he can’t be ignored that’d just be stupid.

alexis mention. this is a touchy subject, because we don’t exactly know her perspective but i’ll always support sam. he was hurt terribly by her and made into something he refused to be. i’ll always take his side no matter the intentions, good or not.

“but we can’t let those people who hurt us, own us at a time like this, that’s a fight i’m not willing to lose. and i know you aren’t either..” MOTHERFUCKING PREACH

“so, we keep on living, life is better with people you care for in it. even if it does make the scary shit more scary. it means you got something to lose. but it also means you got something to fight for, so we’ll fight, in our own way for now. by keeping them safe.”

“and if the time comes, we’ll follow through on that promise of ours. and you and i put this fucker six feet down and never look back, in the name of everybody he’s ever hurt.” WELL THAT ENDED MORE ABRUPT THAN I THOUGHT LMAO

if it does come to that, i wonder how david will react, because they might not tell him, i’m sure he’d be disappointed. i wonder.

sam sam sam, i love you so much, you’re the right mate and support for darlin. he knows how to help and has first hand experience alongside them. god they’re so perfect together.

the way sam and darlin have evolved together is so fucking astonishing. they trust each other with everything and anything. it’s so beautiful to see similar people love each other deeply and have an understanding of each other in a way most people in their life don’t. not with them i mean. i love their relationship so fucking much. one of my top fav pairings on the channel. well done.

i also like the fact now that there’s most likely been development in fred and brights relationship with sam. i’ve heard sam was not the best of people with bright and apparently blaming them. but hearing how he talks about them now, makes me think he truly sees them as a person who made a mistake and never intended for this to happen. and that they really and truly care for fred. i’d like to think sam and bright are more caring of each other now.

i truly have hope for a good ending in this plot line, it’s a high hope but i always look for the bright side of things, this being no exception.

WHOS NEXT- ASHERRRRRRR MY LOVEEEEEE

i love him so much my god. i’m excited for this one, WE LOVE A DATE NIGHT IN AND WITH ONE OF THE BESTEST BOIS hehe <333

[schneesisterss]

Do you have any head cannons for the other Dimitrescu sisters? I loved your takes on Cassandra!

thank you! <3 and Of Course I have headcannons for the other two. (though not as extensive as the ones I have for Cassandra bc you know... brain rot) BUT HERE:

Daniela:

ADD/ADHD representation

stims include, but not limited to: jumping, hard blinking, leg bouncing, word/phrase/noise repetition, and fidgeting with her clothing

and i’m also CONVINCED she gets the zoomies at random times of the day

Alcina, hearing loud and fast footsteps up and down her hallway at 3am: *sigh* “Daniela! Take it outside!”

followed by a loud THUMP and painful groan (she definitely ran into a wall)

hates loud noises but simultaneously has no volume control

especially when she gets excited

Cassandra has to constantly remind her to lower her voice

“AND THEN I TOOK MY KNIFE AND STABBED THE LYCAN IN THE NECK AND IT WAS SO COOL—”

“Dani, i’m standing right here, why are you yelling?”

she loves play-fighting with her sisters

Cassandra is more willing to entertain her than Bela but the both of them like to see their sister happy. so whenever they recognize Daniela getting antsy they’ll wrestle with her a bit

(Cassandra gets way to into it sometimes and makes Bela be the referee lol. Cass always ends up pinning her younger sister with a proud, competitive smile on her face. Bela let’s Dani win, but we don’t tell her that)

has the keenest senses of the three which makes her the best at stalking/killing pray

and since she can hear the best out of all of them, she unintentionally eves drops on conversations

so Daniela, bless her, has all the tea

tactile learner

will just. touch things

“Life hard, Mothers gown soft”

can get trapped in her own head and doesn’t know how to express to her family what’s bothering her

this can make her very reserved at times and she’ll distance herself for days on end

her mother is really the only person who knows how to get her out of that state. Alcina walks up the long flight of stairs to the highest point of her castle. her youngest daughter likes to come here sometimes when she needs the quiet. “Daniela? Are you up here?”

“Hello, Mother.” Alcina looks up to see her daughter lounging on a banister high up on the ceiling.

“What are you doing up there, my love?” Daniela rubs the fabric of her dress between her fingers. “Cassandra and Bela were arguing again. I don’t like when Cassandra yells.”

Alcina shakes her head. Those two were always going at it. She’ll speak to Bela about it later. “I haven’t seen you in a few days.” Daniela then grabs a fist full of her dress and tugs at it, blinking hard. “Come down for a moment. Talk to me, baby.”

and Daniela simply rolls herself off the banister and into free fall. Alcina, already prepared, catches her with ease and holds her bridal style against her chest. Daniela runs her hands over the sleeve of her mother’s dress.

Alcina gave her youngest child time to gather her thoughts, knowing it sometimes takes longer for her to be able to understand them herself. Daniela finally spoke up: “It’s been very loud recently. Around the castle. Small things, like footsteps or glasses clicking, they sound so loud in my head.” She covers her ears with her hands. “Even now I can still hear Cassandras voice through the castle, it’s pushing in my ears. My head hurts, Mother.”

Alcina gave her daughter a quick squeeze before setting her down. “Follow me baby, I want to show you something.” Daniela followed her Mother through the twists and turns of the castle until they ended up at a door that was just like all the others. It blended in and maybe that’s why Daniela has never noticed it before. “In here.” her mother guided.

Inside was a small library and lounge room. A fire place tucked in the corner and, of course, a wall a wine next to it. Daniela looked at her Mother questioningly.

“Listen.” her mother said, and Daniela did. She heard... nothing. Nothing outside of the quiet cracking of the fire place. “This room is sound proofed. Come here whenever you feel overwhelmed.” She leaned down to stroke her daughters head. “Just don’t tell your sisters I showed you my secret getaway room.” and with a wink, the tall woman exited the room and shut the door behind her.

The next day Daniela was at breakfast like nothing had changed. She didn’t even mind when Cassandra yelled at a maiden for breaking a plate, it only made her laugh.

(if you get overstimulated you KNOW what i’m talking about)

personal space? never heard of her.

loves to cling to Belas arm and Bela let’s her bc she thinks it’s just. so cute.

will also sometimes just crawl into her mothers lap and fall asleep. then Alcinas like: “well.. i guess i’m not moving for three hours”

Daniela: “if I run an jump at Cassandra, she’ll most certainly catch me.” *takes off in a full blown sprint*

Cassandra: “NO IM HOLDING HOT TEA—” *drops tea to catch Daniela* *proceeds to cuss her younger sister out, all while Dani is wrapped around her like a koala*

(this happens a lot. Dani will just... climb on Cassandra. piggy back rides, getting on her shoulders, wrapping her hands around her neck from behind and letting her feet drag on the floor, etc. Cassandra complains adamantly but never once moves to get her off)

Cassandra: “hey Dani, I dare you too—”

Bela: “Mother said Daniela isn’t allowed to accept dares anymore.”

Daniela: “apparently I have ‘no regard for my personal safety.’”

it takes a lot for Daniela to get genuinely angry, but when she does, it’s.... bad.

Very Very Scary when mad

turns into a completely different person that you Do NOT want to fuck with

dangerous and violent

much more dark and sadistic as compared to her normal personality

came home one night covered in blood and laughing hysterically. it scared the shit out of her sisters bc if they would try and get close, she’d slash at them with her weapon.

(this was one of the only times Bela had seen Cassandra genuinely worried and afraid for their sister)

when Alcina came to see what was wrong, Daniela, still laughing madly, swung at her too. Cassandra quickly shot out her arm and grabbed Belas elbow to stop her from getting involved. Bela whipped around with a growl but Cassandras glare and squeezing nails told her to back down. Mother can handle it.

Insane Laugh™️

thinks it’s funny to intimidate the maidens by showing her fangs and snapping her jaw

she often likes to find Bela when she’s reading a book to convince her to read to her (Bela almost always complies)

that’s it for Daniela. just a hyperactive baby with a murder streak <3 ONTO THE FINAL SISTER

Bela:

Mama’s (and I cannot stress this enough) Girl

needs constant reassurance that’s she’s doing a good job and yes this reassurance can ONLY come from her mother

INSOMNIAC

this girl never sleeps, pls baby you need some rest

she spends the time she should be sleeping reading books or running errands for her mother (whether Alcina asked her to or not)

she has read almost every single book in their giant library

Cassandra doesn’t understand this at all

“Why are you always cooped up in here?” Bela glanced up over the pages of her book at her younger sister. “This is the library Cassandra. Take a wild guess.” her voice was completely level and had no inflection. Cassandra gritted her teeth, “You think your so much better than me.” Bela sighed and closed her book. She didn’t want to do this again. “No. I don’t.” she said seriously. Cassandra eyed her for a moment then looked away, Bela saw the guilt on her face before she turned on her heal. “You’re so boring.”

because she reads so much, she is incredibly smart and just knows facts about random things

Daniela, daydreaming: “I wonder why grass is green.”

Bela, immediately: “the pigment that most grasses produce, Chlorophyll, absorbs almost all blue and red light and reflects green light which is why we see green. so I mean, technically grass is every single color EXCEPT for green.

Dani, confused as fuck: ....

Cass: “Bitch, how do you even know that?”

Bela’s sisters just end up using her as Google

“Hey Bela, how far away is the moon?” “238,900 miles.”

“Hey Bela, how many different climates are there?” “Twelve”

“Hey Bela, what’s the worlds deadliest poison?” “Botulinum... why?” “No reason.” “Dani. WHY?”

“Hey Bela, how much can I sell a human skull on the black market for?” Bela, concerned: “Cassandra why would—” “HOW MUCH?” “Well... are all the teeth still in tact?” “...No.” “Than only about $500.” “FUCK.”

“Hey Bela, I have this weird rash on my back and—” “Daniela. Do not finish that sentence. Go ask Mother.”

she is so quiet

and not just because she doesn’t talk very loud or even much at all. she’s just So. Silent. when she moves

just pops up in random places without anyone hearing her approach

even Daniela can’t hear her coming, which is saying something

Cassandra, minding her own business, drinking blood tea: .....

Bela, suddenly right next to her: “Hey I was wondering if— stop screaming, it’s me— have you seen Mothers lipstick? It’s missing.”

refuses any type of help with anything or else she feels like she failed that task

Never asks for help, Never asks for favors, and Never Ever will burden her Mother with any of her problems. Ever.

(Alcina thinks this is ridiculous. her eldest daughter pushes herself too hard.)

Anxiety™️

sometimes when her anxiety becomes too much she shuts down and becomes very indifferent to things around her. this has caused many fights between herself and Cassandra because Cass will get really fired up when all Bela does is respond with a monotone voice and blank stare.

overthinks literally everything and is a perfectionist

this makes her prone to panic attacks :(

when this happens she shuts herself in her room, not wanting to bother her Mother or sisters

Bela closes her bedroom door behind her and stumbles to her knees. she can’t seem to get air into her lungs no matter how hard she tried. she had failed. Mother asked her to bring her the head of that stupid man-thing, but somehow he knew their weakness.

how could he know? are Cassandra and Daniela ok? where are they? where is Mother?

Belas breathing was shallow and short, her chest burns as she presses her forehead into the ground. She claws the skin of her chest raw, leaving angry, red marks behind, desperately trying to open her lungs.

she stays as quiet as she can, only gasping few and far between. she will not be a burden. she should deal with the consequences of her failure. alone.

a sudden knock on her door makes her scramble backwards on her bottom till her back hits the opposite wall. then Belas worst nightmare, her Mothers voice.

“Bela?! Bela, is that you?” Alcinas words were rushes and worried. the door handle jiggled. “Bela, baby the door is locked, please let me in.” Bela covered her mouth and cried silently while her Mother begged to be let in.

the sound of snapping wood had Belas eyes flying open, her Mother had broken down the door. Bela shrunk into herself. She’s going to be so mad. I’m a failure. the ringing in her ears became so intense she couldn’t hear anything else.

large, soft hands cup her cheeks and a muffled voice through the air: “Bela, my love, you’re alright thank god. Are you hurt anywhere? Let me see.”

Bela pushed weakly at her Mothers arms and said between sobs, “I-I’m sorry, M-Mother.”

Alcina looked at her eldest daughter with confusion, she had no physical wounds, but the look on her face was heartbreaking. “What are you sorry for, my love?” this only made Belas breathing spend up even more, her face red from the lack of oxygen. Alcina quickly pulled her in close.

“Now Bela, listen to the sound of my voice,” she said it gently but just hard enough to grab her daughters attention. “I need you to copy my breath. Do it now, love, listen to me. Do what i’m telling you to.” Alcina took exaggerated breaths and noticed that instantly after her command, Bela had tried to follow, but the smaller girls breath was still choppy and small. Alcina rubbed a thumb across Belas cheek. “You’re doing so well baby. Keep going just like that. Good girl.” a smaller hand was placed on her arm and grabbed at her sleeve. “Good baby, use me to ground yourself. Keep breathing now, you’re doing so good.” Alcina kept whispering soft encouragements and praises until her daughters breathing was back to normal and she was laying limp on her chest.

Alcina moved the hair away from Belas face. “What a good girl, you did so well.” Bela squeezed her eyes shut and pushed into her Mother until her face was hidden. “I’m sorry Mother.” came a muffled apology, though her voice was much more steadier than before. “I failed you, I couldn’t stop the man-thing. He shot at the windows! He knows our weakness, Mother. What are we going to do? Where’s Daniela and Cassandra, are they ok? I should have stopped him for you I’m so sorry I—”

“Quiet.” Bela immediately seals her lips and looks away, already extracting herself from her Mother’s arms. She probably hates her. Alcina simple tugs her back and forces Bela to look in her eyes with a quick tap to the forehead. “Bela, I need you to listen to me very carefully.” Her daughters eyes go wide and she nods. “You have nothing to apologize for. This is not you’re fault and I will not allow you to think that way. Plus, the man-thing won’t bother us any longer, I took care of it.”

“But—” Alcina raises an eyebrow and Bela gives in, nodding hesitantly. “Good girl.” Bela exhales through her nose at the phrase and squeezes her Mother’s sleeve again. They sit like that for a few more moments, calming down.

Bela suddenly shoots up. “Daniela, Cassandra, are they—” “They’re fine my dear, Daniela got a little banged up, but Cassandra was already patching her up before I could even get close. We didn’t know where you were, that’s why I was so worried.” Bela relaxed and again nuzzled her nose into her Mother’s chest, took one more deep breath, then stood. “I’m going to go check on them.”

She steps through the now empty door frame and pauses. She spoke without turning around: “I won’t fail you again, Mother.” and shifts into a cloud of flies and disappears.

(am I projecting again? idk help)

can play the piano

no like you don’t understand, she is so good at piano

this girl has mastered songs by composers like Liszt, Beethoven, and Ravel

she’ll play for hours on end, if she starts a new piece she Will Not get up until she can play it through perfectly

she pretends not to notice Cassandra secretly listening to her play, hidden behind a nearby bookshelf

while her younger sisters always jump head first into a fight, Bela takes a more calculating approach. learning her enemies movements from afar before advancing and ending it in like 3 quick moves.

“Well Bela, if Mother asked you to jump off a bridge, would you?”

Bela, already climbing over the railing: “Hm?”

and there you go for Bela! my sweet child.. please learn self-care.

*ahem* I went overboard again didn’t I? WELP. I regret nothing. Give me more headcannons.