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ickadori · 10 months

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i think yuji has a thing for spoiled, bratty girls. the ones with borderline bad attitudes, who roll their eyes more than they smile, and scowl and huff when things don’t go their way.

sure, it can be annoying sometimes, but you’re never like that for long, not with him at least. you try, but all he has to do is wrap those steel arms around you and gush about how pretty you are, how he loves you so much, how much he missed seeing you and then you’re like putty in his hands.

you’re sweet, bashful, doting, clingy, glued to his side and rubbing yourself against him like some baby kitten. it’s cute, you’re cute, and he’s head over heels for you.

but like all things, that doesn’t last long either. your moods are fickle, changing at the drop of a hat, and your little outbursts can be explosive, sometimes offensive. yuji usually lets you get your frustrations out, lets you rant and rave while he sits and listens, and then when you’re all tuckered out he’s dragging you into his embrace and whispering comforting words into your skin followed by sweet kisses.

sukuna always tells him how soft he is when he does that - she’ll never respect you if you keep letting her off like that, he says. put her in her fucking place, he hisses. back in my era, the only time a woman opened her mouth around me was to suck my cock, he reminisces.

but yuji isn’t like sukuna, he doesn’t need to do those things to get you back how he likes you most, sweet and soft and eager for his love..but sometimes you really try his patience, so he figured he could do something, nothing close to the cruel things sukuna had suggested, but something to let you know that you couldn’t just do and say whatever you wanted all the time.

he figured he’d take something away from you, like you’d do with a misbehaving child, something that you loved and couldn’t get enough of, no matter how much he gave it to you.

his cock, obviously.

“yuji!” he’s had you like this for a while, your stomach flush against his bedroom wall as he forces you to stand while he squats behind you. you’re dressed in a little skirt and an equally as little top, no panties in sight. the skirt is hiked up around your hips, and he swallows past the lump in his throat as he thrusts the pink dildo into your drooling cunt once again, his ears twitching at the lewd squelch that sounds.

your thighs tremble, knees buckling, and he lets his free hand come down against your ass, his lips soothing the sting after when you let out a whimper. “m’sorry,” he mumbles against your skin, “but you have to stand up straight for me, baby.”

“mm-nn,” you shake your head, and yuji tsks, wrist pulling back to slide the dildo out until only the top remains, and then he’s quickly slamming back in, lips still peppering kisses along the curve of your ass. “ah! i want you, yuji. i wanna feel you..”

“you don’t get my cock until you start being nice to me.” he builds up a steady pace, his breathing ragged as he listens to the squelching coming from your cunt. needing to see it and not just hear it, he pulls his head back, marveling at the way your pussy grips onto the silicone, your slick coating the shaft along with his fingers. “such a pretty pussy for such a mean girl.”

“s-shut up!” he sees you clench, feels the resistance when he goes to push the silicone cock back into you, and he practically salivates as he watches a fresh wave of slick ooze down the shaft.

“see? so mean to me… i shouldn’t play with your pussy at all.” he slips the dildo out of you, jaw going slack as he watches your hole clench around nothing, your desperate protests and pleas falling on death ears. there’s a string of your arousal dripping down between your trembling thighs, and yuji swipes it up with his finger before pushing it into his mouth, lashes fluttering as he groans around the digit.

“please, yuji, m’sorry! i-i’ll be nice, i promise!” you plead and cry, and yuji knows you’re only thinking with your pussy right now, that overwhelming urge to come clouding your mind. you’ll be fussing at him by the end of the night if he gives in, he’s sure of it, but he’s not a mean man. how’s he supposed to tell you no when you beg for him like that? when your pussy weeps for him like this?

he can’t.

it only takes a second for him to free his own cock from his pants, replacing the dildo with the real thing, and he moans loud and guttural when he slips inside, your hot cunt wrapping around him like a vice. “fuck, baby.” his pelvis grinds into the fat of your ass, his hands pinning yours against the wall above your head as he thrusts in and out of you. “you feel so good.”

“yuji,” you keen, and he knows you and your body well enough to know that you’re milliseconds away from coming.

“you gonna come?” he breathes in your ear, low and raspy, and you weakly nod, his name leaving your lips like a chant, and the muscles in his thighs and calves flex as he bends at the knee to fuck you at a slightly different angle, tip of his cock pushing into that spot that always leaves you a babbling, sniffling mess. “go ahead and come, baby. make a mess.”

that’s all the encouragement you need before you’re creaming around his cock, pussy clenching and fluttering around him as declarations of love tumble free from your lips, and he wonders how long it’ll take for you to change your tune this time.

#yuji x reader #jjk smut #++ yuji #IM ILL #MY BFFFF #i have 10 million thoughts about him and will probs only write like 7 at most v.v #++ yuji/brat

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depresseddepot · 1 year

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trying to 100% bg3 is causing me more stress than i anticipated

#i knew i would get a little overwhelmed but i didn't expect to feel NERVOUS #like my first playthrough is (is not was bc im technically not done yet) just fun #i fucked around and missed a LOT and it rrally bothers me that there isnt a ''do x with these companions before you do y'' guide #and on top of that im romancing astarion and he's a fickle bitch and im always worried im fucking it up lol #i think ive done most things you can do but i still feel like im missing a lot #AHH i think i need to reel it in and get back to fucking around lol #the nerves are making me like. afraid to play almost

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kizoken · 7 months

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❝𝐈 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈𝐌 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐀 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐊

𝐆. 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 ❞

✶ smut ; afab!reader , jealous ex suguru , rich girl!reader , oral , little angst , suguru jerks off with reader's panties , alcohol , make up sex , toxic relationship , biker!suguru .

✶ word count ; 1.4k

✶ m.list & request

✶ ❝took me fifteen centuries to get back on the grind but, whatever.❞

"he's staring at you...again." your friend yelled to you through the booming music. you frowned and stopped kissing the random cute guy that approached you. wiping your mouth, you asked her where he was.

"sitting by the bar." lo and behold, a daring and deathly stare was directed your way. but not to you precisely, to the random man that was taking advantage of your generosity. or that is what he thought. his gaze then set on yours and he smiled.

your face contorted at the sight of your ex-boyfriend's lurking eyes and shifted your attention to where you previously were. but the man you were making out was nowhere to be seen.

"suguru!" you cursed to yourself; it was clear this disappearance was orchestrated by him. "you called angel." his voice soft and tantalizing in your ear made you jolt back in disdain.

"you fucking asshole!" you looked at him, dead in the eye. "what did you do?!" he does this all the time, scaring your hook-ups away efficiently like a wonder pesticide. every move of his were foreign to your understanding, nevertheless, deep in the psyche of your mind you found this behavior cute.

"just watching out for the prettiest girl here...can't i?" he smiled and placed a hand at the side of your neck. the friend that announced you suguru geto was prowling around, swiftly began to intervene before you settled her down.

"love the thought! though worry about yourself and your people rather than you ex. it's not a good look on you." you give him a sour smile. "makes you look like a stalker."

"don't call me that angel!" he pouted, "i can't help that every day i spend without your company is misery; how could i not miss you?" you despised how he tugged at your heart strings the way that he did. his deep voice purring how much he wanted you back, needed you or missed you. shame on you if you were going to get fooled a second time, you were not going to let yourself be with a man that had any woman at his disposition at his back and call. even when he had you.

but lord, did he make you feel like the only girl his eyes have ever seen, whose touch he's ever felt, whose lips he's ever kissed. you had everything at your beck and call, nothing was out of your grasp, except suguru geto and his fickle heart.

even if your fiery feelings were creeping back, rationality has yet to abandon you. "suguru; i am so not falling for your dirty, empty words— go and mind torture some other girl than me. i've had enough of you."

suguru was completely taken aback by your words. the last thing he wanted was to make you too uncomfortable, just a little tease here and there. but his intentions of going back to you were in his capabilities, sincere. "oh-i, i apologize," he took a deep breath, "let me make it up to you, yeah?"

"...fine." you conceded, too mentally drained by him, and you might as well take him for his money's worth, even when you could pay our own drinks. the booming music from the club was making you sick at this point, and you really wanted to go home. "don't try a thing."

you would regret not fighting enough to keep those words as they were. it was a terrible idea to take him up on his proposal to take you back to your parent's place. the terrible decisions began to pile up as you clutched yourself around his toned torse in the bike you knew all too well. arriving to your parents' and offering him a drink at their bar. the alcohol mixed with undying feelings for your ex-boyfriend led you to seek the comfort of his lips once again.

suguru happily obliged to your necessities, he was obviously subduing his as well. "i missed you so much..." you say between desperate kisses, halting yourself and placing your hand onto his chin gaining his full attention, "i fucking hate it; i hate you."

"don't say that beautiful...let me make you love me again, hmm?" he pouted, his sneaky hands trailed to settle on your ass, squeezing lightly but as a sign of him wanting more and masking his disdain by your words with his cheekiness. geto's drunken lips placed themselves around the cervices of your neck, making you remember how good he made you feel, no matter what.

you fell headfirst to his charming touch and began to let those barriers you have set up so high up to crumble, and just let yourself go. geto held on to your body, gripping it like the most coveted prize he's been fighting for. you both stumble up through the stairs, never leaving each other's lips.

geto knew exactly where you were taking him, your old room. as he stepped in deeper, memories of sneaking in from the window in his youth flashed through his mind. he laughed reminiscing about it, sweeping off your feet to hold you in the air he said; "remember the countless times i ran out the window without pants?"

"how could i forget," you giggled, "you always looked ridiculous." geto grumbled in playful annoyance as he threw you into the queen-sized bed.

"was i?" you nod.

he could not contain his smile, "anything to make you smile princess, even if i'm a fucking joke."

and so, it was mere seconds before your ex-lover was making you scream his name in ecstasy. geto delighted himself by how your pussy sucked him in vigorously.

the wet, sloppy noises of your cunt and geto's thighs slapping against yours echoed through your former bedroom. "yes~ sugu~ ah! moreee~!"

you loved that about him, how filthy he was in his pounding. your mewls hit a higher pitch as he began to play with your left nipple and your clit with his fingers. his thrusting never ceased, hitting every sweet spot there is to his knowledge.

"sugu~ your mouth...i-i ah" geto let out a moan, knowing exactly what you desired from him, and clamped harder on your bud. "fuck me with your mouth!"

"i need it hgn~ please, please, love!" your ex melted at your words; it was something he's been missing to hear. and none other girl could say to make him oblige to every word the way that you did.

"is that so pretty girl, you want my tongue inside your cunt?" he teased, loving the way you panted and twitched in desperation.

"yes! suguru, my pussy, use it, it's hgn~ ah! all yours..." your fingernails and tips dug around the muscular flesh of his arms, "always been."

the electric feeling induced you to keep your eyes shut during your plead. however you would instantly jolt, and your eyes opened fully as you sensed geto's skillful tongue tease a swipe all around your pussy.

"oh, yes!" you squeal, taking in every inch of his wet muscle's feel. geto's hands held on tightly around your thighs, caressing the plump skin of your legs. but he wanted to further feel your body, eager to reminisce how it used to feel.

relishing in the ensuring pleasure, you were surprised to feel geto's sturdy hand reach out for your own as it laid clench on your chest. you loosen your grip once you feel his touch.

your moans never failed to vibrate in the spacious room, inciting your ex-lover to grant a generous relief to his shaft. though in his mind it was not enough, so he rummaged throughout the messy sheets into finding a thin, small fabric you own.

geto unfolded the scrunched underwear and placed it on his cock, he began to caress himself around with the help of your panties. he stuttered as he pumped his relief while using something only of your own usage, as well as being one of the most private things a person could possess. his oral performance rallied all over your pussy.

the soft fabric of your panties made your ex moan, whimper and lap at your pussy with his tongue like a starved man, it sent you to overdrive, cumming all over his face.

"sugu, fuck, so good...keep it up." and those heavenly squeals of yours mixed with alcohol and tiredness, shoot heavy strings of his cum into your underwear with no remorse. taking a few, heavy breaths in, he calmed himself down and began to trail kisses around your body until it fell on your lips.

"can i stay?" he said with a cheeky tone and a full grin as he placed himself beside you. geto trails his arms on your naked torso, embracing you while waiting for your answer.

still panting and exhausted, though enjoying his comfort, you say, "fine."

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fireflysymphony · 8 months

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Aventurine w a fem! bodyguard reader smut... 👀

Aventurine x fem! bodyguard reader

MDNI 18+ content ahead

A/N: thank you for the request! I really like the concept. I wrote it as a mix of headcanons and a quick drabble at the end. I hope you enjoy it <3

Word count: 2.7k

Content warning: Fem! Reader, slight exhibitionism, pet names, fingering, teasing, praise, needy lovestruck Aventurine, slight degradation, slight begging (on his end), pretty soft sex, Aventurine’s daddy kink strikes again, I have a lack of gun knowledge but just roll with it, not proofread

Headcanons

Let me make this really clear: HE’S not the one who needs protection right now; it’s YOU.

The second he met you he was sizing you up with that cute little smirk of his, making it pretty obvious that all professionalism was lost the very moment he saw such a pretty number was working for him.

You should have run then.

What was the IPC thinking when they hired you for this? Is this some type of wrath from the Aeons? What did you do to deserve this punishment?

From the very beginning, he’s a pain to deal with, but you don’t have the authority to talk back, only giving him tight smiles and apologetic words. He knows this and takes full advantage of the situation.

“Y’know, princess, if you’re going to be with me all the time, shouldn’t I have a prettier view? I don’t like having to leave everything up to the imagination. Do you think red or blue is more your color? Ah~ I’ll buy both.” And you’re sitting there seething as he taps away on his phone, seemingly oblivious to your displeasure. Was he just joking? What was he doing?

The VERY next day you see Aventurine holding up not one but two skin tight dresses with fabric only hiding your more intimate areas. It was more like lingerie than a dress like something you’d see on a stripper.

He evidently wasn’t just teasing you.

As politely as you could, you told him it would hinder your fighting ability if anyone were to attack, so you absolutely couldn’t wear it. He made some futile comment about how he’d love to see you try so he could get a peek up your skirt to, you know, “negate the traumatizing experience of him being attacked.”

In the end, you won the argument, and Aventurine threw a tantrum, muttering something about giving them to a woman who’d actually appreciate a gift like that. You told him straight to his face that he should just give it to the many women he brought to bed each night then.

The surprised and hurt look on his face will forever be carved into your memory.

After that, he actively stopped calling you by his nicknames which, deep inside, you missed, or it might just be the guilt of seeing his usually inalterable flirtatious self turn into a sad kicked puppy of a man. You held onto your pride though and forced yourself to bite back any apology or reconsiderations of his request you may have had. The man should have known your job was on the line, and his insensitive acts of fickle flirtation could not sway you.

The very next day he was up to his usual antics, and you got the impression that he only seemed upset to try to guilt you. Asshole. It only made you more upset with him. Did he like playing with your emotions?

Did I mention he loves it when you say his name? Sometimes he’ll ignore your presence just to hear you say “Mr. Aventurine? Boss?! Sir, I’m talking to you.” In your signature annoyed tone. It makes his heart melt. The only thing he can think of is imagining how your little pants and sighs of his name sound while he’s on top of you. How would you sound if you weren’t constantly annoyed at him? If he brought you pleasure?

Honestly, he was whipped for you from day one, and his actions might sound annoying and overly flirtatious, but that’s just how he shows love.

I could tell you so many things that this man has done for your attention, but that’d probably be the length of the Holy Bible. There are so many places this could go, but I think this instance of his sticks out the most amongst many akin to it.

—

You were used to casinos at this point. The loud blaring sounds of people playing the slot machines and thick, suffocating smell of alcohol were background sensations at this point. You couldn’t even bother to give them a second thought, not when a gun was pointed at the man you were supposed to be protecting. Safe to say the poker game was ruined. Champagne soiled the cards, shards of glass from the glasses littered the floor and table, and Aventurine, stupid Aventurine, had his hands raised in the air, his signature smirk pointed at the assailant like his own brand of deadly weapon.

“Hey, hey, now. This isn’t the place to have one of those, is it? Look, you ruined the cards!” Adventurine laughed, making a circling motion with his hand as if trying to gesture to the table of cards which were now soaked a yellowish brown color. Your hand rested on your gun, ready to fire at any sign of him about to pull the trigger. “Can’t we talk this out? I’m sure with a little persuasion you be happy to hand over-“

Your pistol fired later than his. Shit.

All that registered in your mind was the crying of two men, and Aventurine hunched over with a pained expression as he gripped his stomach. You were trained for this, but in your state of panic, you ran to him instead of making sure the attacker was dead. You scooped him up, struggling to carry him with your gun pointed at the now surrounded shooter while retreating from the casino. You wished you could make sure he was dead, but attending to Aventurine’s injuries were your first priority.

“You idiot. I told you to stop provoking people and look where we are!” You scolded him, Aventurine now quiet and clinging to your shoulders. You were too panicked to question his unusual behavior after just being shot in the stomach. “..If you’re worried, you won’t die. I got you.”

“I think that’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me, Princess.” He laughed, setting his chin on your shoulder. Sensing something was off, you turned down an alleyway and skidded to a stop. He wasn’t screaming in pain nor were his cheeks stained with tears, even the adrenaline wouldn’t keep him from crying out, right? “I’m surprised it took you this long to catch on. No, I’m not-“

Before he could finish his sentence, you dropped him to the ground before crouching down and lifting his shirt up. No wounds in sight.

“Getting rather intimate, aren’t we? You should give me the chance to do this to you.”

“Shut up! What did you do, Aventurine?!” You demanded, yanking his shirt back down before leaning back on your haunches. He looked satisfied with himself as he shuffled to lean against the alley wall. His hat and glasses were gone, probably from the scuffle. He’d have her go get them later.

“Uh-uh, remember who you’re talking to, beautiful.” He smiled, running his hand through his hair and covering his right eye, the other one illuminating his face well enough to be able to see his features in the darkness. “But since you haven’t figured it out, I simply hired someone to shoot me with a blank which, by the way, hurt like a bitch still. I might still need you to kiss my booboo.”

He saw you were about to open your mouth again and placed a finger to your lips, shushing you. “And before you ask: I replaced your bullets with blanks too, so you didn’t shoot an innocent man. I’m not that cruel.”

“You’re cruel to me.” You murmured, knocking his hand away from your face. He smiled and gave you a little shrug, just like a mischievous toddler who was proud when he colored on the walls. “You're impossible. I can’t believe I was actually worried for your life!”

“Worried? I make crazy bets all the time, princess. Gambling my life is no strange feat to me, you should know this.” He smiled again, this time actually touching your lips with the tip of his finger. Your lips parted, the fabric of his gloves sending you spinning. How soft were his actual fingers? What did they look like under those gloves? Were they long, slender, and delicate, or did they have some edge to them, all calloused and rugged? You imagined the former; Aventurine didn’t do much. “But, I have a pretty good hand right now. I bet you won’t stop me from playing it and showing you my cards.”

“But you’re gambling with my feelings too. That’s different. I don’t like being used.” You steadied yourself against the wall, trying to rid your mind of thoughts about his hands. Wait, when did he get so close? You were backed against the wall now, Aventurine caging you there with his lanky form.

“And I’ll make it up to you, just relax, babydoll. I just needed to be close to you. I couldn’t take it anymore.” He placed his forehead against yours, squeezing his eyes shut. His hand fit perfectly with her cheek as if their bodies were crafted for each other. You weren’t so sure, but the way you were feeling right now wasn’t professional.

“Let me take care of you instead for a chance.” He left featherlight kisses on your forehead, trailing down the side of your face. Each kiss grew longer than the last, his lips unable to pull away from you. He cupped both of your cheeks, his lips nearly touching yours as he spoke. “You aren’t pushing me away. I did all this for a moment alone with you, away from prying eyes. Now the IPC can’t punish you if you indulge a little. Please, pretty girl, let me have this. Let me have you.”

You shuddered from his warm breath on your mouth, months of his teasing and antics festering inside you. Defeat was so easy in this moment, the taste of another person’s lips a fleeting memory ever since you got this job. His constant advances would only get worse the more you rejected him. Aventurine always got what he was due. Always. Whatever it be you warming his bed one night or taking you in the back of an alleyway, he’d get it. Deep down, you loved being chased, but now the hunter finally cornered its prey.

“Not again. Never again after this, okay? One time so you make it fucking count.” You grabbed him by his shirt collar, smashing your lips against his, the taste of champagne filling your mouth. He knew what he was doing and held the back of your head, tangling his fingers with your hair. Your actions caught him off guard though; he prepared for the crushing reality of you pushing him away, but you didn’t. Now he just needed to act like he knew you wouldn’t all along.

The softness of his lips lulled you into a daze, your hands aching from how tight you held onto him. Each time he pulled back for a breath, you didn’t give him much time to rest before your lips were on his again, asking for more which he provided with no hesitance. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, taking the delicate flesh between his teeth and playing with it before letting his tongue mold into yours.

“Someone’s a little needy. I could tell by the way you act that you’re pent up, but this is bad.” He fully pulled away with his face flushed, binding your wrists together and holding them above your head with one hand. He left open mouthed kisses down your neck to your chest. Not bothering to waste anymore time, he used his teeth to free your chest from the buttons of your blouse. “Fucking me in an alleyway like this? You must have wanted me from the beginning. Please say you’ve always wanted me, pretty girl. Please… please… fromday one, I’ve always needed you…”

He pulled down your bra with his teeth, kissing and sucking at your breasts with a hunger similar to that of a starving man. His tongue flicked over your delicate buds, moaning at the feeling of your warmth in his mouth. You were starting to think he was right. He acted like he really did need you. As you saw him buried in your chest, eyes filled with lust and desire, all your second thoughts faded to dust.

“Mr. Aventurine…” You tugged on his hair, blond locks soft as the finest silk. Of course he was soft and so delicate; he felt like he could break with one wrong move from you. How was he so torturous and annoying yet the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?

Aventurine’s heart stopped at the sound of your whiny cry of his name. The sound he’s been craving was more beautiful than he could have ever thought.

“I got you, my princess. You’re so beautiful, so fucking gorgeous.” He held up his free hand to his lips, biting at the fabric a few times before getting a hold of the glove and slowly pulling it off. He kept eye contact with you as he did, giving you the impression he was trying to be seductive about it. Before you could say anything about it though, he was already back to your body, hands roaming down to the waistband of your pants.

Within moments, your pants and undergarments were bunched at your knees, and Aventurine got straight to abusing your clit, your already slick folds acting as the perfect lube. “You’re so wet for me. What a naughty, naughty girl you are. So bad, you couldn't hold back that professional facade for long. Were your panties always dripping when you got home? Did you touch yourself and think about me doing this? What a fucking slut.”

He chuckled and collected the slick before shoving a single finger into you, letting out a louder moan than you. He loved the way you felt around him, how tight you were squeezing just one finger. “Fuck… so tight. Can you even take another?” He managed to get another finger into you, stretching you out as he twisted deeper inside of you. He worked at a slow pace while also kissing your neck and chest, selfishly leaving marks in his wake. Eventually, he sped up, losing himself as he pounded into you with another finger.

Your body convulsed, hiccuping in pleasure. “Fuck! Fuck! S-sir-! Shit, I’m gonna- gonna...” You leaned your head on his shoulder, biting down hard to silence your moans and other noises. What had been but five minutes, and you were already falling apart.

“So fast and easy. Cum then, you fucking whore, cum all over daddy’s fingers.” He demanded, slamming his fingers deeper inside of you. You threw your head back, crying out profanities you hope nobody passing by heard. Your walls clenched around him, a wave of pleasure crashing through your body as you coated his fingers in your pleasure.

“There you go, just like that. You feel so good squeezing my fingers like that, good girl.” He pulled out of you after helping you come down from your high, his long, slender fingers covered in your release. He didn’t waste any time in getting rid of the evidence, moaning at your taste as he licked himself clean. “So good, I love you…”

He hoped you didn’t hear that last part, biting his lip to silence the words he just spoke. Thankfully, you looked too dazed to care. If you brought it up later, he’d tease you until you didn’t think it happened.

He let go of your wrists and embraced you, cradling your head against his chest and letting you put yourself back together. He kissed your forehead, mumbling any praises he could think of in your ear. He wanted to savor this moment because in a few minutes, he knew he’d be pushed away again. No matter how good he made you feel; you’d make it clear to him that you’d never fall for one of his traps again. That’s just the woman you were, and he didn’t make bets he knew he couldn’t win.

A/N: this kinda got out of hand, and Aventurine bangs his bodyguard turned into Aventurine becomes a menace (again). If anyone likes this, I’d be happy to make a part two with more detail on how they got together. I apologize to the requester if this isn’t what you had in mind, but I still hope you enjoyed it! <3

Requests are open!

#hsr aventurine #hsr x reader #hsr x reader smut #hsr smut #star rail aventurine #aventurine x reader smut #aventurine smut #aventurine x reader #aventurine honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader smut #honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #smut #18+ mdni #mdni

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avis-writeshq · 25 days

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pairing: early seasons!spencer reid x sunshine!fem!reader genre: fluff, roommate au, childhood friends warnings: general criminal minds violence, not beta-read oops a/n: I renounce the MoReid shippers; they’re SIBLINGS !!!! also, apologies for lack of posts !! have been very busy with uni :( wc: 1.06k part 1 | part 2

Spencer was shot. It all happened so quickly– the sound of the gun firing, the grunt that he let out and the apprehension of the UnSub. Too quickly, but such is the fickleness of life. This was one of the rare occasions where the ballistic vest did not do its job, the bullet jamming into his side. Hotch was on the UnSub in seconds, the cuffs on his wrists before anyone could blink.

“Shit, Reid,” Derek gasps out, watching the way blood seeps through his once pristine white shirt, and he presses his hand against the wound. “Shit, Hotch! Hotch! We need a medic!”

***

“It’s going to be okay,” Aaron assures as best he can. His face is grim and Derek is shaking his head in frustration, hands trembling and cold from washing his hands over and over again. “It’s not your fault.”

“We missed him,” Gideon mutters, “he was right there and we missed him.”

“And Spencer got hurt because of it.” Elle’s gaze is set on the hospital’s sign in counter.

Aaron understands their guilt. They caught the UnSub in the end, so nothing was ever in vain, but it doesn’t change the fact that they didn’t anticipate that he was at the end of the hallway waiting for the perfect moment to strike– and Spencer paid the price of their mistakes. The bullet hit him in the side where the vest didn’t cover, the damage reaching his liver and kidneys. Aaron doesn’t think he’s ever seen that much blood before.

“Excuse me–” a voice loud enough to cut through their brooding chimes from the reception desk. “Hi. Hello, I’m here for, um, Doctor Spencer Reid?”

The clerk glances at her for a brief moment before turning back to his computers. “We don’t have a Doctor by that name on staff.”

“Um, no–” a nervous laugh splits the air. “No, he’s– he’s not a doctor here. He’s a patient? I got a call.”

He looks at her up and down before raising an eyebrow, mumbling something. “Is that you?”

“Yes. Yes, that’s me, is he okay? I came as soon as I could.”

“He’s in surgery. He’ll be out in a few. Take a seat over there–” He gestures over to where Aaron and the others are sitting– “and the doctor will call you over.”

“Right. Right, okay, thank you.”

Elle doesn’t try hiding her confusion, looking up at you from her seat with raised brows. “You’re here for Reid?”

You jolt in surprise, the heavy grip you have on your bag loosening in an attempt to calm down. “Hi? Um, yeah. He’s– well, we’re on each other’s emergency contact list.”

“It’s good to see you again,” Aaron says with a tight grimace. “I wish it were under better circumstances.”

Derek’s jaw unhinges. “You knew?”

“Emergency contact list.” Aaron offers you a glance. “Are you okay?”

“I just–” your voice wobbles, a choked whimper leaving your lips. “I just want him to be okay.”

The team shares your sentiments. It’s not often when there’s an injury as serious as this on the field, but the risk is there. The room is tense with worry, the sound of doctors and nurses rushing around through the halls does nothing to ease their anxieties. You’re already fearing the worst.

What feels like hours is only minutes as a nurse arrives in front of your little group.

“Doctor Spencer Reid?” She confirms, looking sympathetic as ever. “The surgery was a success. The bullet grazed against his liver so he does need to stay for a couple of days for monitoring, but he should make a full recovery.”

“Is he allowed guests?” You blurt out hurriedly, the receipt in your hands crumbled in torn from incessant worrying.

“He’s should be waking up now, but you’re welcome to see him. I’ll take you there.” The nurse offers a gentle smile. “Girlfriend?”

Heat roars against your cheeks and you shake your head adamantly. “No, no, he’s– we’re not– he’s my roommate.”

The nurse hums, a knowing smile on her face. “I see.”

After a few quick goodbyes towards Aaron and the rest of the team, you hurry after the nurse whilst clutching your bag of goods. She opens the door wide, letting you inside before closing it behind you while you pull up a chair.

“I am– I am so mad at you, Spencer Walter Reid,” you whisper, gaze fixed on his resting face and the hair that mats his forehead. You brush a few strands away from his eyes, your lips trembling briefly. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“So you’re not that mad?” Spencer croaks out, his voice dry and his head pounding as he manages to lift his eyes towards you.

“Spencer.” Your arms are around his neck in an instant, careful as not to disrupt the wires and tubes that surround him. “I’m going to kill you.”

“That’s counter intuitive.” He laughs quietly, wincing a little at the suddenness before allowing his free arm to wrap loosely around your waist. He finds it uneasy, the way your lips fall into a wobbly frown and how your eyes look red and puffy from crying. He’s only ever seen you look like this once before but that’s nothing compared to this. This time you look like that because of him– a silly little accident has lead to your pretty smile vanishing off your pretty face.

“You suck. I’m telling your mother.” He knows you won’t and he’s grateful that you’ve found it in yourself to make a joke. When you pull away, he immediately misses your warmth, watching as you rummage through your bag before handing him a sealed cup of red jell-o. “It was the last one they had.”

“You’re an angel, really, but I don’t think I’m allowed to eat for a couple hours,” he murmurs, his fingers grasping gingerly at the cup.

With a wordless nod in acknowledgement, you press a thick leather bound book into his hands, your eyes meeting his gaze. “Your favourite.”

He breathes out his thanks, glancing up at you through the dim lights of the hospital room. “Are you going to stay?”

“As long as you want, Walter.”

***

From the other side of the door, Derek glances through the window at you and Spencer before looking back at Hotch. “They’re roommates?”

“Apparently.”

“No, but– they’re just roommates?”

“Unfortunately.”

reblogs are always appreciated !!

part 1 | part 2 | you are on part 3!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader angst #spencer reid angst #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds x reader fluff #criminal minds angst #criminal minds x reader angst #matthe gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler fluff #matthew gray gubler x reader fluff #matthew gray gubler angst #matthew gray gubler x reader angst

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logansdoll · 1 month

Note

Heyyy it would be awesome if you wrote a third part for “37” where Charles gives Logan’s memories back and we go through flashbacks of some of his best memories, his wedding, the day his kids were born…something like that, it would be very heartwarming 🥰🥰🥰 or even maybe coming back from the past and seeing his kids again

sunflower

part three of "37"

CW: fluffy fluff, all the feels, suggestive, profanity, takes place after the events of Days Future Past, very bittersweet, your daughter's a lil menace, your son's a lil cutie pie, angst if you squint, i never know how to end these things, etc.

"Logan, the mind is a fickle thing," Charles sighed, resting his hands on his desk with a solemn look. "I can't possibly guarantee that this will work, much less in one session—" "I don't care how long it takes."

Logan's face drew tight with the statement, his patience visibly wearing thin.

He'd been listening to the same bullshit for twenty minutes...

"I don't care if I need a hundred different fuckin' sessions. I'm gettin' these memories back," he spelled out, leaning forward in his seat and roughly tapping his finger on the desk. "It doesn't make any damn sense. This body's been in this timeline for fifty-fuckin'-years and it doesn't remember shit."

"Because it is your consciousness that is the problem, Logan," Charles groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That is what I've been trying to tell you."

Logan piped down for a moment, brows knitting together as he leaned back in his seat, taking an annoyed drag of his cigar.

"Your psyche is from a completely different timeline, and now resides in a completely different body. It's like asking to recall the memories of a random person walking down the street," the professor explained, again.

Sadly, he hung his head, greatly sorry for the misfortune of his friend.

"I wish there was something I could do, Logan. Truly. But I'm afraid it just can't be done."

But Logan didn't buy it.

Huffing a small plume of smoke out his nose, he glanced out the window, catching sight of you teaching a class on the lawn.

Using your powers, you grew a large sunflower out from the ground, the younger kids marveling at the sight as you began pointing out its anatomy, most of them enamored by the huge petals—which were bigger than their little six year-old frames.

And in a small pause in time, your eyes flitted up to meet his through the window, that heart-stopping smile finding its way onto your lips as you gave him a tiny wave.

It warmed him, experiencing your light for the first time in years without the threat of annihilation on the horizon.

Domesticity like this is something he'd craved all his life, and now that he had it in his grasp, he wasn't going to settle for anything less.

A stilling chill descended on his chest at the thought of your smile, and the countless others he'd missed.

Your tears of joy when he proposed.

Your frazzled excitement with the wedding planning.

Your radiance as you walked down the aisle.

He missed it all.

And he'd be damned if he didn't do everything in his power to try and get it back.

"Charles..." Logan started, stamping out his cigar in a nearby ashtray. "My whole life is standin' out there under that tree... and I can't remember a goddamn thing about her after 1973."

His tone turned cold, eyes sharp as he stared the professor down.

"I don't care if you have to rip my head in half... I'm gettin' those memories back."

The old man let out a sigh, accepting that going on like this would bring no other outcome.

He'd have to give the man what he wanted... consequences be damned.

'Let's hope he survives...'

"This will be violent," Charles stated off-rip, wheeling himself out from behind his desk. "I am essentially hammering your mind like a dam, making cracks in its defenses until it eventually gives way."

Logan nodded, watching as the man settled in front of him, raising his two fingers to his temple.

"Now... try not to move."

Logan shut his eyes, and in an instant, it felt as if his head was struck by a speeding train.

He let out a growl of pain as images began to flash behind his eyes, the next one always coming quicker than the last.

"Hon, which color do you think would go best with my complexion? Eggshell or Porcelain?" you asked, eagerly holding up two different swatches against your skin.

"You look beautiful in anything, baby," he stated as if it was the simplest thing in the world, wrapping an arm around your waist. "Either one is fine."

"As sweet as that is... it doesn't help," you huffed, playfully attempting to scold him.

"Fine then. Eggshell," he answered, quickly.

You raised a brow, an amused smile playing at your lips as you leaned in closer, "Are you just saying that to get me to shut up?"

He let out a chuckle, resting his forehead against yours, "Never."

Yes...

"Can't wait 'til this damn reception is over," he growled in your ear, lips dragging down your neck as you both hid in a nearby hallway. "First time I've been alone with you since I do."

"Logan..." you gasped, tucking your lip between your teeth in an attempt to muffle yourself as he tightly grasped your hips. "Someone'll hear..."

"Then I guess you better keep quiet," he smirked against your skin, giving your collarbone a soft nip.

It's all coming back...

"Logan..." you started, nervously, hands held firmly behind your back. "I have something to tell you... and I'm open to talk about it if you're upset..."

His brows furrowed as he turned away from his dresser, looking toward you with an air of concern.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his protective instinct spiking at the sight of your fearful expression. "What happened?"

Unable to say it, you slowly held up your hand, revealing a positive pregnancy test.

His eyes widened like saucers, throat drying at the tiny piece of plastic.

"You're... pregnant?"

You nodded, silently, his reaction not soothing your anxiety one bit.

But, as if on cue, he moved toward you, striding across the room and pulling you into a bone crushing hug.

"I'm gonna be a father..." he muttered into your hair, the phrase not one he thought he'd ever hear. "I'm gonna be a father..."

Wait...

"Logan!" you cried, tears welling in your eyes as you glanced up at him, scared. "I can't...mmmph fuck!... I can't do it! Hurts too much!"

"C'mon, baby, keep pushin'. You're doin' so good," he cooed, swiping stray strands of hair out your face as the nurse on the other side of the bed helped cheer you on. "Just a little bit more. You're right there."

With a grunt, you squeezed his hand tight, letting out a growl of pain as you gave another push.

Pop!

Logan's eyes shot wide, the man nearly biting through his tongue as he glanced down at his hand.

You dislocated his finger.

Though it seemed to be worth it as that final push was what did it.

"It's a girl!" the doctor smiled, carefully holding up the newborn.

Looking upon her small, chubbed face, Logan felt a sense of protectiveness sink into his chest—one that he only felt when things came to you.

In that moment, and every moment after that, he knew he would lay his life down for her, no question.

And she wasn't even a minute old yet.

I have—

"James! Get back here!" a little girl squealed with laughter, bursting into the office after a little boy, who looked terrified.

Logan snapped out his head with a gasp, shooting up from his seat and unsheathing his claws out of muscle memory.

'James...'

Quickly, Logan retracted his claws as the boy ducked behind his leg, gripping tightly onto his jeans as the girl stormed over.

She looked just like you, save for a few small details, and had a small snaggle-tooth poking out on her right side, only adding to her adorableness.

Not to mention the bone claws she had protruding from her knuckles.

"No fair! You can't hide behind Dad every time you're scared!" she furrowed her brows, upset.

"Mommy told you about your claws, Laura..." James mumbled, voice barely above a whisper as he shyly peeked out from behind his human shield.

'Laura...'

The boy was Logan's mirror image, looking almost exactly like he did at that age..

Apple doesn't fall too far from the tree...

Charles could sense the pieces clicking in Logan's mind, and figured lending a hand would be best after what he'd been through.

"Logan, these are your—" "Laura Marie Howlett!" your voice cut in, the little girl flinching at the sound.

Quickly, she retracted her claws, whipping around with a guilty smile, which was met by your less-than-approving glare.

"What have I told you about chasing your brother inside? And what have I told you about using your claws to do it?" you scolded, walking into the office. "You two are interrupting your father and Professor Xavier."

Logan let out a soft sigh, taking the moment to finally look over his family.

Like a slow moving stream, things were coming back to him, the feeling like a fog clearing from the recesses of his mind.

Every birthday.

Every boo-boo.

Every first.

Slowly but surely, they were all returning.

Without warning, Logan dropped to his knees, pulling the two kids into a tight hug, fiercely fighting off the emotion swelling in his chest.

"Daddy?" James squeaked, concerned.

"Are you okay?" Laura asked, confused.

He nodded, silently, the sight making your heart both burst and ache.

After all this time, your husband was truly whole.

Fifty years of suffering and agony had finally come to an end.

taglist !!

@catiwinky @seamlessepiphany @vinaluvsu @kellyxo1 @amandarobertsboyce @captainloki1 @qveendiorsworld @sarahskywalker-amidala @mei-simp @oatmilkriver @br3nt-12 @bimboshaggy @lightsgore @edszn @couturewinx @sunroxic @notanotheroldman @bontensbabygirl @buckleysg1rl @marvelgirlie-4 @eljaynosine-triphosphate @nickf1 @pinkisokay @mercurysjoy

#james howlett #james howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #mcu #mcu x reader #wolverine x reader #x men #x men x reader #wolverine

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prone-to-fleeting-obsessions · 4 months

Text

Dating Aventurine Affection hc's

Affection starts out slow in your relationship...

Of course you got the teasing touches and arm wrapped somewhere around you since before you were even dating, but true honest loving affection takes a while to manifest

He's hesitant... Hesitant to commit himself fully when he knows how fickle and fleeting life can be, how unpredictable his life is, with the risks he takes

"Don't get attached" was his one mantra since the beginning, as if scolding his heart for being so naive as to believe this would last

You would get sick of him, if he didn't die first, sick of his floundering and lack of commitment and childish wavering and massive inferiority complex—

But you didn't leave, you didn't push or pressure or guilt...

His first kiss to you was a soft little peck on the inside of your wrist, pressing it against his face as he closed his eyes, searching for the soft beating of your pulse

It was unintentional, really...

His lips just brushed against it with genuine care, and he couldn't help but need just a little more

He couldn't play the action off, couldn't laugh his way out of such a genuine act of adoration, so he leaned into it, peppering a few more

It was slow starting, but he enjoyed your hands

Holding them, squeezing them, pressing little kisses to your palms and fingers, guiding them to his face as he sighed happily against their warmth

Hands were sacred, used for acts of devotion and prayer... He couldn't help but want yours all to himself

Then it was your neck, your shoulders and collarbone

His head fit so perfect there, almost like the space was made for him to adore

Little lingering kisses pressed to your neck, not suggestive or done only for the purpose of leading up to something more, but done in a way that felt like this was the reward, the end goal

Your reciprocation caused a vulnerable feeling in his chest, your lips brushing against his neck, trailing over his symbol of pain and suffering, sparking pleasant feeling in a spot that's only ever experienced misfortune...

His legs were weak, his whole body felt weak at your gentle nature

His affection grew more teasing, more playful

A quick kiss to the back of your neck as his arms wrapped around you from behind, a soft little nip to your ear to surprise you when deep in thought, accompanied by a teasing smile of course

"Oh? Did I startle you~" He'd coo, pressing closer, eyes half-lidded as he kissed the spot to make up for it

His hands sought you out unconsciously

Your lower back, your free hand, your waist, your shoulder, the back of your head...

Even in his sleep he'd reach for you, pawing around as if looking for something missing, restless unless his hand was on your skin

His favorite thing was to have your back pressed up against his chest, his arms draped around you, and his head resting on your shoulder as his soft honey blonde hair brushed against you

It's the perfect position for him to keep you trapped for as long as he wants, happily refilling his energy by doting on you with loving little caresses

You are absolutely going to be alternating on big and little spoon, because he adores holding you close but also wants to feel safe and reassured that you want to love him, too

It also helps with his nightmares, being practically on top of you with his head on your chest and your hands in his hair, stroking in a calming repetitive way...

He's a little more reserved in public, but not by much

You'll still be receiving good luck kisses and reassuring squeezes often, as well as teasing affection

Oh? Did you happen to blush from him calling you his "perfect love"? Well be prepared for a sly grin and an onslaught of verbal affirmation

His beloved little darling isn't ever going to question his devotion, he'll never let you leave feeling unloved, not as long as you're both breathing...

#honkai star rail #hsr aventurine #hsr aventurine x reader #aventurine x reader #my hcs #x reader

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leviathanleva · 5 months

Text

Daisy

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem Reader [DARK FIC]

Description: Cooper Howard was not a kind man, he cared for nobody, but himself. Then he found you, a lost little dove, barefoot and crying, torn dress and big innocent eyes staring at him like he was a hero. He knew you’d be a burden, he knew you couldn’t survive in the wasteland, he was doing you a favor.

But he couldn’t pull the fucking trigger...

........................

[4k words]

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Chapter 1 "The Savior"

Since the day you were born, there was something horribly wrong with you.

You had no immune system, your skin was paper-thin, you couldn’t exercise without collapsing, and every nerve in your body was in constant pain. There was no use for you aside from being a measly archive keeper and book transcriber. Your father was a weak man, despite your disabilities and how costly it was for the rest of your Vault, he kept you alive, consumed by the idea of finally finding a cure for his little girl.

Every single moment since your birth, you had spent in this squeaky clean, insanity-inducing, paper-ridden medical room. Everything was plagued by the stench of medicine and spirit, disinfected down to the core. The floor and walls and even the ceiling were covered in a leather cushioned layer to prevent any injuries, sparkling white, of course. Who needed color when the stench of new paint might cause you a migraine?

In honesty, you’d give away half of your miserable life just to see color outside of the packaged book covers stacked neatly on the floor. You built a makeshift city out of them, following the pictures drawn in an old magazine you’d read ages ago and kept hidden under your pillow. With time, you learned how to make paper flowers out of some stray files that nobody would miss. You had to find some solace, something to keep you from crying your delicate heart out every night because this was no way for anyone to live.

You weren’t just isolated from the world above, but from everything, only getting glimpses of the bright metal vault corridor and bustling dwellers whenever your father would open that wretched vacuum-sealed door to give you medicine. You knew people’s names and faces, everyone in your vault was memorized to the letter, but you’d never met them and probably never would.

You were never given your own Pip-boy, never assigned as a potential marriage candidate, and you’d never have children or any family once your parents passed away. A small part of you knew that you wouldn’t even outlive them, frail and genetically inferior as you were. You’d die within the next few years and you’d take the burden of your existence off the shoulders of everyone who worked tirelessly to find a solution to your illness.

You waited for that day with hope, dreaming of the end of the torture and solitude.

You had pleaded with your father that night with angry tears in your eyes to at least bring you coloring pencils or crayons or a radio to chat with the rest of the residents and make friends. But, as usual, he had refused gently while rocking you in his arms, cooing at you with a regretful tone and pain carving deep wrinkles in his features. Then he’d smiled at you, melting away your worry and frustration and misery, and he’d kissed your forehead tenderly. He still treated you like a little girl and to him, you’d always be one. He wiped your tears away and hope shone in his eyes, they looked exactly like yours, that was the only thing you’d taken from him. Everything else was a gift from your mother and you often looked in the mirror just to remember what she resembled.

She’d stopped visiting a long time ago, months, maybe even years, you weren’t sure. The passing of time was a fickle matter when you were caged in a cushioned prison every single day.

Your father hummed softly, lulling you while he gently tucked you into the nursing bed and secured the oxygen mask over your mouth. He was your angel, your only salvation, your only source of conversation and comfort and interaction and love. He adjusted the catheter back into your vein before fluffing up your pillow.

“This might be it, Sweetheart.” he whispered while watching you doze off slowly, his gaze held such affection for you. He placed a new IV bag to drain into your arm, one you’d not seen before, but you trusted him. This was nothing new. He came up with a new medicine recipe every month, without fail. “This might just be the cure. You’ll tell me how you feel tomorrow.”

You can only sigh and give your best smile, unable to share his enthusiasm after so many failed attempts. He rubbed a thumb over your sickly-colored cheek, his skin like sandpaper against yours, worn and calloused from spending a lifetime in the vault’s field.

“Have some faith in your old man.”

“I do, dad…I’m just so tired of this…”you bite into your tongue to keep more tears from spilling, and your bottom lip trembles despite your best efforts to tame it. Watching his face falter breaks your heart and you suck it up, push your tantrum down and pout instead. “And you’re not old.”

He laughs at your whiney remark, the first laugh he’d had in a long time, and he slicks back your hair, taking note that he needed to trim it soon before it got too long. Maybe when he had the energy, he’d sit down for more than a few minutes and braid it like he used to when you were just a child.

“I know you are, Baby girl, I know.” he shushes you with the utmost care and stands. “Just a little longer and you’ll be strong enough to help your pop pick out the tatoes. Get your pretty hands all dirty and then have a big plate of spam for a job well done.” he gazed at you, masking his sorrow and bitterness at the cruelty life had forced upon you. His hand hovered over the lamp switch and he glanced one last time at the brand-new IV bag slowly emptying in your bloodstream. “Night, Sweetheart. Love you.”

Too stricken with grief over your miserable lifestyle, you didn’t return his tender words, hoping he understood and knew that you loved him just as much if not more. When the lights went out, your eyelids closed, squeezing out a few lonely tears in the darkness before you begrudgingly drifted off to sleep. A dreamless slumber when you were gently rocked through the foggy confines of your subconsciousness.

Your one wish was to see the world outside, uncaring if it were a wasteland or a paradise, ignorant of the dangers and naïve towards the people who potentially lived up there. You just wanted to be free, even if it would cost you your life, you wanted to see the sky just once, wanted to prove to yourself that no, it looked better than any picture your father had shown you. You wanted to swim in the ocean and see fishes and see a whale, a creature so big it was unfathomable to imagine, you wanted to taste the salty sea water and become sick and just be happy to be alive for once. You wanted to feel the grass beneath your feet, to touch snow and dance in the rain until you slipped and fell in a puddle only to splash in it because you’d never seen or felt any nature.

You just wanted to live…

The hours ticked by in a hazy blur as you lay lifelessly on your bed. Your room was partly sound-proof, you heard nothing of the ruckus slowly brewing beyond your medicinal prison. Sleepy soundly, you didn’t hear the slaughter, the begging and pleading voice on the brink of crying before the sickening cracks of broken bones. You didn’t hear the crazed ramblings of the raiders stalking your fellow vault dwellers like it was a game of cat and mouse. Your vault was slowly succumbing to chaos and rampage and it was only when the electricity went out and your door unlatched that you were startled awake.

You bolt up with wide eyes and in a panic, gaze averting to the door and heart skipping a beat when you realize it’s open. With a small grunt and a relieved inhale once the oxygen mask is ripped from your face and tossed on your pillow, you scramble to stand. The IV is disconnected from your arm with an expert touch, replaced by a cotton ball to obscure any heavy bleeding from the open puncture wound. Your bare feet shuffle over the soft floor, slippery against the white leather because you’d unknowingly started to sweat from anticipation.

Was this just another cruel dream?

You walked to the exit with timid footsteps before opening the door wide enough to stick your head out. An incessant voice kept repeating how disappointed your father would be if he saw you sticking your nose out and potentially catching an infection from the unsterile air. That voice was dismissed promptly, this was your first chance at seeing anything beyond the medical room and you’d rather die than miss it.

Had the power gone out? But that was impossible. The power never went out, there had always been a steady flow of electricity for as long as you could remember.

The lights flickered, most were broken, letting the eerie darkness overwhelm all corridors except for one.

“Hello?” you call out hesitantly, shaky voice hoarse with sleep and anxiety both. Looking around, you couldn’t see much, there wasn’t a soul in sight and the silence was deafening. “Dad?”

Nothing. Nothing and no one.

A hand clutched at the door to support your buckling knees and you breathed deeply, encouraging yourself to be brave, that this was your chance. After dutifully gnawing on the inside of your cheek you stepped forth into the crossroads of corridors, letting go of the door and leaving everything familiar and safe behind. Your head whirled so much your neck popped multiple times as you frantically looked around in the scarce light and as terrifying as all of this was, it was also heaven unknown. You had never seen so many things – plant pots, plants, all bright green and juicy, you’d stuck your nail in a particular one only to feel a strange gooey discharge on your finger. It was a succulent, you’d read about those somewhere, very sturdy indeed, very pretty, but had no smell. You liked them already.

The further you went, the more a nagging thought kept creeping up your spine like a chill.

Where was everybody?

You kept looking, following the corridor and under the guidance of blinking lamps. You knew the Vault like the back of your hand after spending countless hours studying its diagrams, having nothing better to do. Now you were experiencing it in person. No longer needing to strain your imagination to picture every nook and cranny, you could see it with your own eyes. The floor was so cold under your feet, but you didn’t care, too high on adrenaline and pure joy to notice such a small inconvenience. A hand glided absentmindedly against the wall, tracing over pipes and posters and glass windows until you prickled your finger on a jagged edge and winced away.

You stuck the winger in your mouth with a pained scowl and glared up, searching for the source of your misfortune.

You froze.

Blood, everywhere, oozing down the wide hole in the window and silently gushing out of the disemboweled corpse of a human being, still warm. And even through the liters of blood and the sickening feeling of nausea that had your eyes dart to the floor, you immediately noticed the dark blue suit they were wearing. A dead vault dweller tossed through the window so hard they’d broken through and gotten impaled on the glass.

A vault dweller.

Dead…

DEAD!!!

You stumbled back and wretched, stuffing your mouth in the crook of your elbow and sputtering saliva as your stomach churned with bile. You bumped into a metal cabinet in your stupor, scraping for purchase as your legs lost all function, knocking over a clock and a radio that came to life as soon as it hit the floor. The sound echoed through the Vault, like a haunting melody to the arrival of a new victim, lured out and ready for slaughter. You.

Horror. A massacre, as the light flickered your eyes feasted on more marred flesh and ripped skin and so much blood. Crimson splatter and trails of handprints were strewn over the walls, the echoes of an dire struggle which ended in vein, trails of violence were etched into the hallway. You couldn’t hold it in anymore, you threw up, clutching at your stomach as you let out the traumatizing sight the only way your body knew how. Doubled over and twitching as the shock was replaced by such a raw feeling that you nearly lost your mind.

Corpses littered the floor beyond, caked in their own entrails, skulls bashed in, unrecognizable and still and…

“Hi there, Princess.”

A chill went up your spine as you realized that the frilly white dress you wore wasn’t enough to keep you warm beyond your room. Your skin littered with goosebumps, thin hairs standing up in fear as you stiffly craned your neck and looked back to the other end of the corridor. What little color was left in your face dissipated at the sight.

A man, disfigured and disgusting, with wild hair and wilder eyes and a grin that shook you to the bone stood there. He was shirtless, showing off a large hairy belly and covered in stick-poke tattoos, one of his legs was replaced by what you made out was a metal stick of sorts. He was three times your size…and he looked at you with such perverse intent that you nearly screamed. A vile creature, not even human anymore.

“Don’t be scared, Pretty.” he leered, chapped lips and rotting teeth and a foul blackened tongue, and raised a large palm in front of him to halt you from moving. “It’s okay…Come here. Come to me.”

Instinct took over and you automatically stepped back, not daring to take your eyes off him.

“Ah, don’t do that now.” he warned sweetly and slowly began walking towards you, creeping closer every time the lights flickered off. “You’ll just make this harder for you, yeah? Come to Eddie, Sweetheart. I’ll take care of you.”

Everything about him screamed evil. He looked deranged and capable of things you’d never even begin to imagine.

A surface dweller. A survivor. A killer. A monster.

The moment his boot sunk in a pool of blood and squeaked against the floor realization hit you like a speeding truck. The grim expression should have been his sign to catch you, but you were already leaping over corpses with a blood-curdling screech. Your mind raced as you tried to orientate yourself through the corridors, bolting over shattered glass and spoiled food and so many dead bodies.

You needed to get out. Leave. Escape.

OUT!

His hollars bellowed behind you, alerting the rest of his friends because of course there were more and now they were aware of you and hunting you down like a deer in the forest. You let the tears run down your cheeks, forced the questions of your parents’ whereabouts and health because you already knew the answers, but you let them sink you’d end up like them or worse.

A horde of footsteps nipped at your bare heels and you sprinted and begged your weak little legs to go faster. Sucking in air as adrenaline pumped through your veins like poison, you jumped and ducked and whirled and assured yourself that you had the upper hand here, you knew the vault better than them. You stood a chance, you’d survive.

When the elevator came into view after you rounded a corner you nearly cried out in delirium. A roar nearly deafened you and you flinched, but your pace only increased as you pleaded and struggled not to trip over your feet. They were desperate, clawing at the air to try and reach you before it was too late. Your lungs burned with strain, your muscles felt like they’d tear any moment, but you kept pushing, high on horror and anger and a newfound zest for self-preservation

Salvation. Your only chance to live.

Your shoulder screamed in pain when you slammed against the metal walls of the elevator and thrusted your fist against the button vigorously.

“Come on. Come on. COME ON!”

“Get back here you little whore!”

“Please!” you wailed, screaming and stumbling back when a rusty axe collided with the shutting doors and made sparks fly with an ear-piercing screech. A hand flew up to cover your squinted eyes, sneering and sobbing as the raiders banged on the outside of the elevator and shot conniving curses at your crumbling form. You were slammed down on your arse by gravity as the elevator finally moved, taking you away from certain death as a slew of grim promises were expelled at you from below.

They’d find you, rip you apart, and make you wish you’d just died like the rest of your pathetic vault dwellers. You balled your eyes out, choking on spit and tears and gulping down air as your body shook violently. Clutching at your face, you stared down at your bloody feet with wide, unblinking eyes.

What was this nightmare…

When the elevator came to a halt and the doors reopened you barely managed to stand, the numbness in your limbs proving too much to handle and your upset stomach only contributing. But you had to keep moving, you had to run.

“Daddy…”

With ugly sobs and meek noises of strain and discomfort and utter distaste for your cruel fate, you tumbled towards the ajar vault entrance. Pressing down the button timidly before taking the discarded Pip-boy from the severed hand, you lock your tormentors into their grave and hurriedly tread towards the slowly closing vault exit.

The sun nearly blinds you and the hot desert sun knocks you to your knees as your hands sink to the wrists in sand. You gasp, squeezing your eyes shut before blinking rapidly and shielding your sensitive pupils from the blaring light.

It’s…barren.

A desert, stretching as far as your sight could reach, heated enough for the air to wiggle and dance in the distance, a decrepit city can be seen nestled not too far. A plethora of buildings crumbled to their bases hide away the sealed entrance to your vault, bones are scattered through the coarse sand, human shapes frozen in time, hinting towards a previous era of life on Earth, an era you’d only read about. Again, there wasn’t a soul around no matter how many times you circled your vision.

A wasteland. Painted yellow and orange and contrasting so beautifully with the clear blue sky.

You wanted to marvel and swoon and you would have given any other circumstance, but now, after everything you’d seen, after your mind had been so brutally defiled with images of slaughter, you were incapable. You stood, resisting the harsh breeze and angry sun, clad in nothing but a Pip-boy and a thin summer dress that was everything but white.

You had to walk, seek help, do…something. Anything.

And so you did. Trudging through the sea of sand and stepping hastily as the heat beneath your delicate feet nipped uncomfortably at your skin. Sweat clung to you like a protective layer, washing away any trace of the sensitive lavender shampoo you had used the previous night. Strands of hair clung to your flushed face as you fought a silent and unfair battle against the burning sunrays, one step at a time, with the wind as your only companion. Your nostrils struggled to breathe in enough air, but you didn’t dare open your mouth despite the temptation, fearing dehydration and death as it loomed over you like a shadow.

You walked for what felt like miles, accompanied by your thoughts and nothing else, until the Vault was hidden behind the golden dunes and your feet felt raw. The city was so close now, yet you were so tired, sucked dry by a heat you’d never experienced before, if it hadn’t been for your Pip-boy crackling to life you would have collapsed, too burdened and weak to continue.

You raised your wrist and looked down and were met by a familiar meter.

Radiation.

Something around you was radioactive enough for the device to pick up easily, but there was nothing but waves of yellow hell and you doubted the ground itself was emitting it. Then you heard it. That strange, high-pitched chirping, an alien sound that made your skin crawl and scraped at the back of your head tauntingly.

A scream loud enough to shatter glass ripped through your throat as a sharp sting pierced your ankle. You hit the soft sand with a whimper and rushed to turn on your back before kicking blindly at your assaultant. An ambush from below. Blood trickled from the gash, painting your skin a deep ruby red and spilling over the ground, luring out your predators like moths to a flame.

Insects, roaches too big to be real and too much for your fickle mind to comprehend crawled out of the sand. You’d fallen right into their trap, an unsuspecting victim, a banquet they’d probably not seen since they’d hatched.

Your heart pounded frantically, pulse thumping in the side of your neck as you flailed and screeched, chucking sand at them as they circled you. You wanted to run, every cell in your body fought for you to stand, but you couldn’t, you had no fight left. You’d die here, alone in this decrepit desert and eaten by giant cockroaches and this was going to be the story of your life. You sobbed so pitifully, so angry and bitter and bratty that after everything, this was to be your end. The world spun painfully fast and you wanted to vomit, but your stomach was empty and you only gagged.

With one last scream, you curled in a ball, covering your head with your arms and your legs protecting your belly, as one of the insects lunged forward.

When the gunshot rang in your ears you froze in place and time stopped. The roach flew back, slimy green entrails covering your form like a canvas. The other two hissed and you revolted at the noise, but they were shot a second later, blown to bits, dainty skittish legs twitching as the last few beats of life escaped them. The shadow of your savior dwarfed you completely, giving you respite from the cruel sun.

You roll over and sit up on your knees within a blink only to be met with the barrel of a gun too ratchet and rusted to belong to anyone but a wastelander. You recoil and blink through tear-heavy lashes before roughly adjusting your dress to try and cover your bare thighs from what you presumed was another man. The tip of the gun slid under your chin and guided your eyes up to feast upon your hero. You gulped and whimpered.

He was grotesque, like a man skinned alive and somehow survived, melted skin deformed his features and you’d bet your dinner there wasn’t a strand of hair under that worn cowboy hat. He had no nose, no eyebrows or even lashes, not a spec of hair. He grinned something awful down at you, looking at you like you were a fresh piece of meat, a delicacy among a table covered with rotten food. His stance was wide, torn dark cloth swaying dangerously in the breeze, he seemed almost aetherial in his own twisted and rugged way. You mewled softly as he turned your head from side to side with his gun, gently, mockingly, drinking you in from every angle as if you’d disappear if he so much as blinked.

Your hands clutched at the edge of your dress when he finally spoke and his voice made you inhale sharply and clench your jaw in anticipation.

“Well…Aren’t you a pretty little thing…”

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

(Listen, it's 7AM and I need sleep, but this mother trucker didn't want to leave me alone so have a chapter from my hastily strewn-together upcoming story. I'll post it on AO3 and probably here if it even happens. I'll fix mistakes later, don't eat me please.)

Chapter 2 >>>

🌼 Daisy Masterlist 🌼

Masterlist

#the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #fallout tv series #the ghoul fanfic #cooper howard #wtf am i doing with my life #x reader #the ghoul

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peachdues · 7 months

Text

THE DIVINING ROD — PROLOGUE

Obanai’s Tell Me to Stop

A/N: the prologue to Obanai’s installment of Tell Me to Stop, first teased here.

CW: canon setting AU • Reader is the Vine Pillar • blood • angst • scars • mentions of past torture • panic • this fic will be HELLA NSFW so MDNI

From the first day he drew his sword, Obanai Iguro knew life within the Demon Slayer Corps meant accepting two, twin truths.

The first was this: a career as a swordsman of the Corps means one’s life expectancy is cut drastically short. Few make it to adulthood; even fewer to retirement.

The second truth is that your time within the Corps is marked by one or two events: either you live to see another day, or you do not. There is no in between; it is either life or death, and more often than not, the Slayers themselves do not have the luxury of choosing between the two. That choice is finite and there is no gray. Members of the Demon Slayer Corps do not go missing; either they are torn apart and devoured by the very monsters they fight, or they live to see the next sunrise, only to await nightfall once more and thrust their lives back into the fickle, shifty hands of fate.

No slayer is spared that perilous dance, no matter their rank. Mizunotos and Hashira alike all know that their tether to the world they’re trying to save is little more than a fraying thread which grows more tenuous by the day, with every battle won at the expense of the lives lost.

The crows; it is the crows, the harbingers of both victory and death, who keep them apprised of their numbers. Slayers do not go missing; they are either dead or they are not. If there is nothing left of a Slayer to bury, their crow will say as much, and they will still get a headstone in the Master’s ever-growing graveyard. The crows always return, even when their assigned masters do not. It is the expectation; a given.

There is no protocol in the event neither Slayer nor crow returns, and it is that absence which blows a gaping, jagged hole right through Obanai’s understanding of his nature not just as a Hashira, but his very existence as a swordsman.

Because the Vine Pillar has vanished and there is no trace of either her or her bird to be found. There is no frantic, bleating announcement that she’s fallen at the hands of some formidable foe, no mournful sobs of the Kakushi as they solemnly carry a box bearing whatever of her remained to be buried with her brothers and sisters in death.

There was only silence; thick, oppressive, loud silence that is punctuated by the conspicuous gap in the lineup of Pillars gathered for an emergency meeting at Headquarters.

The air between the Sound and Insect Pillars is still; a tear in the fabric of reality, pulled back to reveal that something is wrong, something is out of place.

Something is missing.

Obanai cannot stop staring at it; that space between Kocho and Uzui, the utter absence of matter that should form that familiar face, that signature haori, everything that makes up her and her warmth and her comfort.

Everything he cherishes.

“Then she is dead,” Uzui declares once the Master’s children finish explaining their summoning.

“We don’t know for certain,” a soft voice, feminine and evocative of that which is distinctly pink, rises above their heads at the opposite end of their line. “Missions often take weeks, and she may simply be unable to answer —,”

“No one has seen or heard from her in weeks, nor has there been any sight of her crow.” The Sound Pillar challenges, though not unkindly. He is familiar with the friendship between the Vine and Love Pillars, and he does his best to deliver the blow as painlessly as he can. “Even Y/L/N would not ignore an emergency summons from headquarters, no matter how deep in her mission she might have been.”

Obanai is still staring at the void between his comrades where she should be, but Uzui’s words make his fists clench, the skin of his knuckles white. Beside him, the Wind Pillar shifts, sensing his growing agitation.

His panic.

Though he is inclined to voice his agreement with the pinkette at the end of their formation, Serpent Pillar does not speak. He cannot; not while he is busy retracing the last weeks in his mind, mentally calculating how much time would have passed between that night and the mission she did not return from, and whether there was a chance it was different from the one that haunted his every waking moment.

“Where was she assigned?” Rengoku’s voice was strong and commanding as ever, though if he listened hard enough, Obanai could discern the faintest tremble as the Flame Pillar, too, worried after his absent friend.

“A fishing village in the east.” One of the Master’s twins answers, and it feels like an accusation only he can hear, as Obanai feels the very ground beneath his feet break apart and open wide.

How he wishes the oblivion below the earth would swallow him up.

“She’s dead.” Uzui repeats, his head bowing solemnly.

“She’s not,” both the Love and Flame Pillars insist in unison.

Wide, anxious green eyes peer over the heads of their comrades at him, and Obanai can feel how they burn into his head, beseeching him to say something, anything, but he does not; cannot.

The Master’s pristine garden falls away, as does the rising bickering of the other pillars as they debate the merits of a search and rescue operation; whether they have the numbers or time to spare it any consideration. Whatever they decide, it is without the Serpent Pillar’s vote, because he cannot hear them over the roaring in his ears; the new truth he is forced to bear.

That truism is this: the Vine Pillar is missing.

And it is entirely his fault.

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #obanai iguro #kny #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kny obanai #kny iguro #obanai x reader #iguro x reader #demon slayer obanai #kny smut #demon slayer smut

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seraphiism · 10 months

Text

❀ ﾟ. ༄ ┊ 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐉𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 ( 𝐩𝐭. 𝐢𝐯 ) ;

characters : wriothesley • neuvillette fandom : genshin impact ╰┈ pt i. • pt. ii • pt. iii

↬ wriothesley ࿐ ࿔

wriothesley is far too familiar with getting injured on the job. it's nothing new, not really-- what's work if he doesn't get a little roughened up, anyway? it's certainly not a big deal ( to him, at least ).

he'll admit that some days are worse than others, but he's got too much to do, too much to protect. he can't afford to let anyone take him down. so all in all? he'll be fine. end of story.

you, on the other hand? he's not really sure. he's warned you from time to time that he's bound to run into trouble here and there; the fortress is not a place of innocence, after all, and you are both all too aware of that.

still, that doesn't stop you from mentally combusting every time he walks through the door, cuts and bruises all across his body. unfortunately, tonight is no different, even if his injury ( if anyone can even consider it to be one ) is a small cut on his cheek.

"jail. jail for a thousand years."

it's three in the morning, and yeah, he's a little sleep deprived, so he's not really sure if he heard you correctly. he blinks a few times, brows knit ever so slightly as he tries to register your words.

huh.

he's far more used to a lecture, but he'll take this instead.

"a thousand years?" he grins, though the amusement fades slightly as you use a washcloth to wipe the blood away. "that's a little cruel. seriously, do you think you could survive that long without seeing me?"

"guess we'll see."

he lets out a chuckle, though he sees through your annoyance. it may be a simple cut to him, but to you, it runs deeper and he knows that. he chooses to keep his silence instead of continuing the banter, only watching you carefully as you study him in search of other injuries you may have missed.

"i miss you when i'm gone for a thousand minutes." he leans in, closes that small distance between you two. "don't send me away." he murmurs. "i won't survive."

you don't say anything for a long while, a small sigh escaping through parted lips. it's his unique way of asking for forgiveness; of course you'll grant it. but you're just as stubborn as he is, so you don't quite give him the satisfaction or peace of mind that he expects.

you kiss him for a moment too short, then speak.

"how many hours is a thousand minutes?"

↬ neuvillette ࿐ ࿔

neuvillette is not accustomed to the woes of human emotion. it is a fickle thing, he muses, and the nature of one's heart is a complexity he wishes to understand with ease. he tries, but there are so many variables and constants that even the ludex of fontaine cannot grasp it.

he is, admittedly, always a little doubtful of himself when it comes to such interactions. he is careful in his approach-- certainly not wary, but careful in the means of not causing offense. he is learning with time, after all, and though he has learned much through experience and through you, there is much he still remains naive to.

but this-- this, he understands : the silence that weighs heavy in the air, the lack of words so often spoken when you are together, the way your eyes won't meet his. your gaze is focused elsewhere as you throw all concentration into putting away the antiseptic and spare bandages, carefully organizing the supply kit in the most optimal manner in case of emergency. he is not sure how long you spend rearranging it, but surely it is a means of distraction to distance yourself from your feelings.

"thank you." neuvillette speaks up after a long while, notices how you pause at his gratitude. your body tenses up for the slightest moment, but you are quick to force yourself to relax.

"you're welcome."

he is unsure of how to proceed at this point. it is not often that he gets injured; such occasion is truly rare, but it is not something always in his control. he understands you are worried. he understands that you are afraid, that you might be angry. he wishes to speak, but when he hears that little sniffle, he freezes.

"please, look at me."

you listen. when he looks at you, there is something strange that stirs in his heart-- something so softly devastating at the sight of your sorrow. he hesitates, wonders if he will do the right thing to comfort you.

his hand cups your cheek, thumb wiping away the tear that trails down your face. there is the gentle curve of the lips-- a subtle reassurance, quiet in its nature, but deeply resonant.

"do not waste your tears on me." he tells you, gentle. "i'm alright. so long as the tides continue to turn, i will be here."

he presses a kiss to your forehead, smile growing ever so faintly as your tears continue to fall. it is something that cannot be helped; he knows this more than anyone, this weeping dragon. he pulls you into his arms, and until the tears are no longer shed, he will not let you go.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #favoniuslibrary #wriothesley x reader #neuvillette #fyi i skimmed through wriothesley's wiki for like 5 mins. if he's ooc .......No He's Not #.: writing #.: multi #only 2 characters bc i am a lil sleepy and wanted to get smth out :^)

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