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miss-oranje-disco-dancer · 5 months ago

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give me your heart, make it real

pairing: javier peña x reader

tags/cw: smut, f! receiving oral, p in v, undercover as lovers, big dick javi, no use of y/n, no reader physical description, gentle lover javi

summary: javi needs a 'date' to a party (where escobar and crew will be idk), and asks reader to help him by dressing up in a 'slutty' outfit (not his words)

a/n: okay, yes, the title is from smooth by santana ft. rob thomas (on my javi-coded spotify playlist even tho it came out post-narcos). i've only made it to s2 ep4 and slept thru s1 ep8-10, so i've been committing the crime of not knowing the lore (i am so down bad for javi it's insane)

wc: 3.8k

"I have a lead, and you're coming with me," Javi says, already ushering you out of the room.

"You can't just whisk me away - I have to ask Messina."

"Messina gave me the go-ahead."

"I still need to-" You try to walk away from him but his hand loosely holds your arm, and before you break free, Messina says, approaching from behind, "Go with Agent Peña."

It must be a good lead if she's so quick to send you off with Peña. He looks you over, and says, "You can't wear that. How quickly can you change?"

"Into my tactical gear?"

"No, into a dress."

"Whose quinceañera are we attending?"

"Funny. I have intel about a party happening this evening. You're going to be my date. I need you in a dress - the shorter the better - and makeup, lots of it."

"You want me to look like a hooker?"

"Something like that."

You expect Javi to drop you off at your apartment, but he follows you in – he tries to follow you all the way to your bedroom, but you stop him. Maybe he’s just running on instinct, not used to having a woman invite him into her home without the intention of sex.

"Go sit in the living room," you scoff, pushing him away. "Make yourself at home." You keep your tone sarcastic to avoid letting any nervousness creep into your voice.

You're not supposed to look pretty, per se. He's expecting slutty, and yet, you still worry about looking too slutty in front of Javi. You've made a conscious effort to keep every interaction between the two of you professional, and you are determined to keep it that way. While you cake your face in cosmetics, you remind yourself that you would not go to such lengths for Javi. This is not for Javi, this is for a nobler cause than landing in his good graces. You’re fulfilling your duties as an agent on a mission to stop a narcoterrorist, and that paycheck better arrive at the end of month or you’ll be forced to get on your knees for your landlord who is not quite as handsome as Javi.

Yes, that’s right, Javi is handsome, disgustingly so. You loathe him, not for his sex appeal itself but for his awareness of such, not for the fact that he could leverage it against you, but for the fact that he thinks he can. He can.

Javier Peña sees all women the same way - not quite as objects, but conquests. Even if you're someone, rather than something, you're still someone he could have. But you don't bend to his will, at least you haven't yet, and that's the one thing you hold over him.

Your brain is logical, and holds you to a higher standard. This has nothing to do with desire, but simple facts put into an equation that gives you a clear output. Every time the illogical part of you that lives between your thighs begs for attention, your mind reminds you of your current mantra: Javi is a walking, talking, fucking bad idea.

The red lipstick and minidress are going to get you one step closer to catching Escobar, and if it means you have to be Javi's date for a night, then it's a challenge you're willing to take.

Maybe pretending to like him will be easier than pretending not to like him, which is something you've struggled to do every day for months.

It will not be, you realize, when he whistles at you from the couch when you step out of your bedroom, all dolled up.

"I'm carrying my gun in my purse," you say - an empty threat.

"Good girl."

"Say it one more time, Peña," you warn him, pulling your lethal weapon from a tacky, dated clutch. Your grip on it is weak and the safety is on. He mirrors your gesture, lazily pointing his own gun at you.

But he keeps his mouth shut.

Between the two of you, who's the better shot? You hope you'll never have to find out.

Javi shamelessly flirts his way around the office, but his arm around your waist is purely professional as he guides you from the car, parked a safe distance away, to your destination.

"You don't speak Spanish, you respond to 'chica', and you definitely do not have a gun on you. Got it?"

"What do you want me to call you?"

"As long as it's not my name, whatever you want, chica."

"Asshole."

Playing dumb is more fun than you thought it'd be. The wandering eyes of drug lords make you feel icky, but you don't have to respond when they speak to you. You don’t have to prove your intelligence to every man you encounter, every man who will make you take on any task they can’t handle, don’t have time for, or simply can’t be bothered to do. You don't have to do shit for once.

You keep a drink in your hand as a part of the act. Party girls like you drink, right? Honestly, you’re dead set on keeping your hands full in the hopes that you won’t be given the opportunity to do a line, inevitably refuse such an opportunity, and risk being outed as someone on the other side of this war. Javi doesn't need to tell you to pour your own drink - it's a lesson all girls are taught from a young age. Training as a federal agent may have taught you sharpshooting, but your mother told you how to avoid getting roofied.

You have a tolerance built up thanks to picking alcohol as one of your favorite vices back in college, but you know how to act drunk. While you sway a little, Javi tightens his grip on your waist to keep you grounded. You pretend not to understand when he mentions to a small group of men that you might be down for more than one man tonight, he just needs to get you warmed up first. He sounds a little too comfortable saying those words, and you doubt it's just good acting. Regardless, they seem more than happy to hear about the possibility of getting in bed with you.

"What's everyone talking about?" You slur your words and smile stupidly.

"Don't worry about it, chica," Javi says with a sly look to a man you hope you won't actually have to sleep with.

You swear you see a twinkle of something in Javi's brown eyes as they meet yours.

You realize what that something is when he surprises you by capturing your lips in a searing kiss, daring to slip his tongue in your mouth. His hand sliding downwards says, 'just go with it'. You kiss him back, pulling his hair as he grabs your ass. You know he's putting on a show, but his touch makes you feel something all too real.

You swear you hear a whistle, it's likely directed at the two of you but the hustle and bustle of chatter covers up what the onlookers are saying. Javi hears enough to know that his plan is working.

'Get a room,' they say.

'Do you have a spare?' he asks.

Too drunk for their own good and too horny at the sight in front of them, the leader offers one up.

Your embarrassment is real – you're not hiding a winning smile underneath like Javi is. You're directed to a bedroom, and resisting the urge to scope the room immediately, Javi lays you flat on the bed and climbs on top of you, pinning your arms above your head - and, making you wetter than you'd ever tell him. He's keeping you from pushing him away until the door shuts and he tones things down.

He whispers into your ear when he's sure the man who led you here is far enough away that he can drop the act for a moment, "You're going to do what I say. No questions asked. Are we clear?"

You nod, terrified and knowing he's the only one you can trust in this place. With less shame than one might expect, he shows you what to do, getting you to mimic him. He sucks on his own fingers and you follow blindly, he pulls up the bottom of his shirt and slaps his skin while bouncing on the bed just enough that it creaks, rhythmically, like you're – oh, you understand.

Then, he whispers in your ear, "moan for me," and you do. "Perfect, just like that," he says, and you're no longer praying that you don't get caught by the cartel, but that you don't get caught by Javi. "That's good, keep going," he says, and god, you couldn't stop it if you wanted to.

You've forgotten everything else he's said, so he takes your hand and slides it up your dress, slapping the skin of your thighs and then grabs your hips to bounce them up and down. You whimper at the loss of his touch - all thoughts other than 'Javi' have left your head. He starts searching the room for evidence of anything case-related, and you continue to suck, moan, bounce, slap your skin, pretend to fuck the man in front of you because he wants you to, because he told you to keep going.

You watch Javi's back - as you should. You watch his arms, the way his jeans fit perfectly, the shape of his nose as he turns to his side and you can see his profile, his focused eyes.

You imagine his eyes looking over your body, his nose tickling your skin, those jeans coming off, his arms caging you in while he's on top of you. You hope the bed's not slick with arousal.

Don't touch yourself. But, he's not looking. Maybe you can pass it off as dedication to the cause. Don't. Don't. Don't.

When he finds what he needs, he takes what he can, receipts and encoded notes, and he shoves them down his pants. You watch him readjust. He sees, and gives you a look of 'what?'. He ruffles his hair, unbuttons his top two buttons, making himself look disheveled. Then, he licks thumb and runs in under your eyes, smudging your eyeliner and with the other, your lipstick. As if he's practiced, he wipes the excess red on his lips.

You look stunned, he looks satisfied. Everyone stares when you leave but for all the wrong reasons. They have no idea what went on in that room. Javi has no idea either. It's your own little secret.

When you make it to the safety of Javi’s car, you sigh, relaxing into the passenger seat, and he says, "Thank you. You did really well back there. I could just kiss you right now - for real."

You know what he means. It's another thank you, maybe even I'm proud of you. But he’s still giving you an opportunity. It has to be intentional.

"Then, do it. I dare you."

He could make a joke but he doesn't, he smiles and does as he said. He kisses you, and his lips parting slightly is the offer. When your tongue meets his, he knows, he must know.

"We should celebrate," he says. "Wanna come back to my place?"

You agree, even though you should know by now that going home with Javi is risky business at best.

Javi is enough of a gentleman to offer you a drink before suggesting you move things to the bedroom. All he has is whiskey, and while it's not your favorite, you decide the liquid courage is worth the taste.

"To us," Javi says, raising his glass before tapping it against yours. Sure, you're supposed to look into each other's eyes when you tap your glass against his, but the look you share says something beyond the toast. He might as well have winked at you. The tension is palpable, and you become increasingly aware of Javi's experience in this field - he may hold superiority to you in the DEA due to his extra years working for the agency, but what intimidates you is not that, but his body count, which is surely dozens above yours.

But then again, how much of the sex he has is with prostitutes? Is he even a good fuck? Maybe that's why he pays for sex. No, you've heard rumors being passed around throughout the DEA, and unless Javi pays for reviews too, he's good, great even.

"Are you in there, querida?" His head is cocked to the side in a way that lets you know he's been trying to get your attention for awhile.

"Oh yeah, I was just thinking."

"Anything interesting? I thought I was going to have to shake you."

"No, my mind's just…"

"Elsewhere?"

"Yeah, you could say that."

"Mine too." He places his glass on the table. "You did very well today. Have you ever acted before?"

"No, not really."

"You're a natural, then, because it was pretty convincing."

You think you've gotten away with it until you see the glint in his eye.

"It helps when you're… inspired," you say with a coy grin.

"Inspired? Is that what they're calling it now?"

"I don't wanna say it. It's embarrassing."

"You don't have to, it was pretty obvious how you felt."

It's good that you've had a drink or two because you'd be running out of the room in embarrassment if you hadn't. You're not as practiced as some of the girls he's been with, and it's probably obvious, but you're not a virgin either. You're also not an idiot. This is going in the direction you've always wanted it to - towards his bedroom.

Javi leans in, and whispers into the shell of your ear, "I didn't give you the tour of my apartment, did I?"

His hot breath on your skin sends chills down your spine, but you pretend to be barely-fazed. "Mm-mm, you haven't."

"Do you wanna see my bedroom?"

"Yeah, I'd like that."

He takes your hand and helps you up, and though you’ve felt his hands before, you notice the way one of his can envelop yours. He kisses you, soft and sweet, he kisses you, passionate and feverish, he kisses you with purpose, walking you backwards in the direction of his bedroom. He can tell you're nervous about the possibility of knocking into things so he assures you, "Don't worry. I know my way around. I won't let you get hurt."

"You come here often?"

You get a laugh out of him, light and genuine, but most of all rare. "Not as often as I should."

You find that his grip on you is looser than it was in public. There's nothing to protect you from here. It's just Peña, your colleague. It's just Javi, the man you've seen in the risque dreams you have too frequently to write them off as a misfire in your subconscious.

If someone had asked you with a gun to your head if you thought Javier Peña would be a gentle lover, you'd be dead. And if you are, then you made it to heaven.

He slides your zipper down carefully and lets you slip out of your dress, insisting on abiding by the rule of 'ladies first' when you try to unbutton his shirt. Your fingers shake as you restrain yourself against the urge to rip the fabric, so he replaces your hands with his own. His belt is gone too by the time he sits down on the edge of the bed, hands holding yours while he gazes at you in your bra and panties.

"Do you dress like this under your work clothes every day or was this for your 'costume?'"

"I wanted to do a good job playing my part. I didn't know if I'd need to take off my dress."

"But you were willing to if I'd asked you?"

"You told me to do whatever you said."

"But you could've told me to 'fuck off'. Did you want me to see you like this? Is it possible that you wanted to look pretty for me?"

"You're very good at interrogations, Peña. You would make a good cop."

He keeps his laughter contained, but there's a hint of a smile on his lips when he says, "You're going to call me, 'Javi' when you're in my bed. Are we clear?"

You salute him just to push his buttons, and it works, he pulls you into his lap and holds you there. You love his tight jeans for the way they allow you to feel how hard he is right now.

"So fucking gorgeous," he mutters as his kisses trail down your neck. He undoes your bra with one hand and you brace yourself for impact, dying to feel his mouth on your newly-exposed skin.

You would never have expected his skin to be so soft. His hands are calloused and he has wrinkles between his eyebrows, but his broad shoulders are perfectly smooth. You feel like apologizing preemptively for the marks you might leave.

But Javi flips you onto your back and you see a flash of hunger in his eyes. He's wanted this for a long time too.

"When you were moaning for me earlier, I couldn't stop wondering if that's what you'd sound like if I touched you like this."

'Like this' means one hand slipping into your panties and playing with your clit while the other thumb runs over your nipple. You take a sharp inhale of breath and try not to moan loudly but end up letting out a whimper that must sound awfully pathetic.

"Even prettier," he says, as his voice gets further away and you realize he's getting on his knees.

You must be dead. You must've died at that party because this is too perfect to be true.

He places gentle kisses on the inside of each of your thighs before slipping off your panties.

"Javi." Breathy and urgent, it’s an admission of your arousal.

"Querida?"

Your voice trembles as you tell him the secret you've been keeping. "When I was 'acting', I had to stop myself from saying your name."

"You were such a good girl."

His lips ghost over your clit before he presses a light kiss to your skin. You're so desperate you could cry. You let his name slip out now that you're alone.

"You're still a good girl."

One finger slips inside you like a reward and his tongue circles your clit. You swear he can hear your thoughts - "I'm sorry I pulled a gun on you earlier when you called me that. You make me feel flustered all the time, so much that you piss me off". He groans into your core as if to say, "It's okay. I already knew that".

But then your brain turns to mush and all that's left is, "Javi, Javi, Javi." And his response is to put your legs over his shoulders and slip another finger inside you. He can tell you're struggling against the pleasure, gripping his bedsheets in a desperate attempt to avoid tugging his hair. His unoccupied hand finds one of yours, coaxing you into holding it. The tenderness only heightens the pleasure.

"I know, cariño, just let go for me. I've got you."

The safest you've ever been is with Javi next to you. Safe enough to keep you alive, safe enough for you to cry out his name without fear. You come down from the most intense orgasm of your life, panting with Javi's hands stroking your sides before lifting your legs so he can climb into bed beside you.

Without a thought left in your head, your eager hands reach for the button of his jeans, but he stops you. "Are you sure about this?"

"Of course. I'm in your bed, aren't I?"

"But your legs are shaking, querida. You need a minute to relax."

"I want you."

"I'll still be here in five minutes."

He comes back with water and a condom and you understand why women sleep with him.

He bargains with you - you drink some water and he takes his pants off. He doesn't intend to make a show of it, but you marvel at his body, now fully on display in front of you. The dryness in your mouth reminds you of the cold glass in your hand, which you down, equal parts nervous and aroused at the sight of his cock.

Javi notices the genuine concern in your eyes – surely women have looked at him with the same hesitant desire. In response to the unspoken, he strokes your cheek with a sweetness that makes you blush. "We'll go slow."

He sinks into you slowly, incrementally. His length strokes a particularly sensitive spot inside you that makes your walls tighten around him, and you can feel his hips jerk in response, self-restraint wavering as he holds himself back from fucking you roughly.

Once he bottoms out, he stops and lets you savor the feeling of being full. His lips still red and puffy from their time spent between your thighs, find yours and he kisses you with a fervor that cannot be sustained when you're both breathing so heavily.

"Javi, I need you," you whine.

"You have me."

"I need you to f–" he starts thrusting in and out of you while you speak, forcing you to cut yourself off with a moan.

The way he groans is gorgeous. He sets a steady pace and gets lost in the feeling. The urge to be closer to you takes over and he has you sitting in his lap within seconds. His hands cup your ass and allow him to move you as he pleases.

Your words in his ear are less than coherent when you bury your face in his neck. His teeth graze the skin on your shoulders and in the back of your mind you know you should worry about the marks he might leave, but the desire to be his, to remember that you had something even for a moment overtakes you. So, you throw your head back and give him access to a greater expanse of your skin.

Arousal fills you with a jolt of energy, giving you a boost in stamina, and you leverage yourself on Javi's shoulders and take over the work of sliding his cock between your wet folds, hips erratic and faltering.

You don’t need to tell him how close you are, he can tell. He’s seen you cum before, he’s tasted it.

"Me too," he says. It's more intense than the first one - you keep your eyes open with sheer willpower because you need to know what he looks like when he cums. There's a fair chance you won't see him like this again and you need to keep his beautiful 'o' face in your spank bank.

But what slips from his lips is not a string of curses or a wordless groan, but your name. It sounds even better when you hear it again during round two, and even better when it follows ‘good morning’.

#javier peña #javier peña smut #javier peña x reader #javier peña fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #javier pena smut #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos

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sky-is-the-limit · 15 days ago

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How Task Force 141 would react to you breaking up with them because of their job:

Captain Price:

He’d take the news like a hit to the chest even though he’d nod as if he’d already accepted it.

The words would catch in his throat but he’d steady himself, holding onto every last thread of composure as he listened, eyes cast down on the space between you.

''I can’t blame you.'' He'd murmur, forcing a small, understanding smile. ''Not for this.''

The sadness in his blue eyes would betray him, though, no amount of practice could keep that pain out.

''Just… if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.'' His hand would linger beside yours, close but never quite reaching.

As you walked away, he wouldn’t move, not for a long while.

He would sit in the dark later that night, staring at the door, almost waiting for you to come back but deep down, he knew you wouldn’t.

Later, when he finally got into bed, he’d let the thought of you be his last and the memory of your smile his only comfort. He’d never say it aloud but part of him was already thinking about retiring.

Maybe this was it, a sign to leave it all behind, to make this mission his last and if he made it back? He’d come straight to your door, ready to give it one more try, no matter how slim the chance.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick:

When you told him, his face would twist with disbelief, hurt, anger all colliding into a storm he couldn’t contain.

''You knew who I was..'' He’d say, his hands running through his hair as if trying to release the frustration building inside him.

"So why now? Now when I can’t fucking imagine my life without you?"

He’d demand answers, his voice rising with each one and the hurt too raw to mask, searching your eyes like he could find a reason that made it hurt less.

In the end, when he saw the finality in your face, something inside him would deflate to leave only silence as he drove you home, his grip on the wheel seeming like it hurts and the weight of each passing second sinking deep into his bones like bullets. If not worse.

That night, he’d take out his anger on the punching bag, knuckles bruising until the pain became a welcome numbness.

After every mission, though, he’d still reach for his phone, typing anyway. 'Home safe.' It was always the same and you wouldn’t respond.

Days would pass but he’d still text, still send pictures of things he found that reminded him of you. Small things. Little pieces of you that he couldn’t let go of. He’d call, just to hear your voice even though he knew you weren’t going to pick up.

At night, in the quiet of his apartment, he’d let himself sink into the scent of you that still lingered in his sheets, imagining what it would be like to have you back even if it was just for one night.

John "Soap" MacTavish:

Johnny’s heart would shatter into pieces the moment you said it. He'd try to smile but the effort was weak, failing him completely as his chest tightened.

"I get it, lass." He’d say, eyes full of the pain he tried so hard to hide so you wouldn't feel guilty. "I’d go mad if it was you out there." But that didn’t stop the deep pit of panic from swallowing him whole.

How can he wake up or go to sleep without you?

''I just…'' He’d hesitate, tears threatening to fall. ''I can’t blame you.''

But damn it, he wanted to. He wanted to yell, to scream, to tell you not to leave, that he’d do anything, anything to make it work but he couldn’t. Not like this.

So instead, he’d pull you into his arms, letting himself feel the warmth of your body, the one thing he could hold onto even if it was just for a few more minutes. His lips would find yours, slow and desperate, tasting you like it was the last time.

One kiss would turn into two and another until you both found yourselves in bed, clinging to each other with a desperation that made it feel like the world would shatter and burn when you let go.

By morning, he’d be gone, leaving his cross on the nightstand. The only physical thing he could bear to leave behind.

He’d walk out into the early dawn, each step heavier than the last, knowing he’d left his heart back with you, a piece of himself he’d never get back. Not that he wanted to.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

He would expect it. He knew from the start that loving him would only end in pain but even though he saw it coming, nothing prepared him for how it would feel when you finally said the cursed words.

''I always knew it would end like this.'' He’d say, his tone flat but underneath it, there was a world of despair.

He wouldn’t beg nor try to change your mind. He couldn’t, not when he already knew how this story ends. Yet when you asked him to look at you, truly look at you, he’d turn his face and that’s when you’d see the truth in his eyes.

That pain that he’d buried so deep. ''I don’t expect you to wait. I don’t want you to bury me.''

He wouldn’t say anything else after that but you’d feel it in the silence that stretched between you both, that there was so much he wanted to confess to you but wouldn't dare.

He’d drive you to your friend’s place, eyes locked on the road ahead, and when he stopped, he’d glance over, just once and say, ''I’ll pack your things so you don’t have to come back.''

Before you could walk away one last time, his voice would crack just slightly. ''After you… there’s no one else.''

And that would be the last time you’d see him. He’d drive off, the emptiness of his heart trailing behind him and when you were out of sight, he’d finally let the tears fall.

#feeling extra angsty today #cod #call of duty #captain price #captain price x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #cod x you #task force 141 #tf 141 #141 x reader #cod 141

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 1 year ago

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The Danger Zone (Part 11) - Hangman

Pairing: Hangman / Fem!Bradshaw!Reader | OC

Word Count: 4.0k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Unplanned Pregnancy; Background Relationships; Medical Appointments; Suggestive Comments; Discussion of Mental Health (Depression, Anxiety, Post-Partum); Discussions of Goose and Carole; Use of "You," No Use of Y/N, No Set Physical Description

Summary: You and Jake move in together and attend your twenty-week appointment.

Series Master List

Master List

A week and a half later, you were moving into Jake’s apartment officially. The two of you, with some help from Phoenix and Coyote, had already moved all of the smaller items out of your apartment. Bradley and Mav also stopped by—when Jake wasn’t there��to take some of the more sentimental items to hold onto for you in their bigger homes.

So, all that was left were a few pieces of furniture. You sold some of your furniture but decided to either keep or store or give away the other pieces. And that meant that someone had to drag it down the stairs and shove it into the back of Jake’s truck or the trailer that Maverick brought.

“Don’t even think about it,” Jake stated, watching as you rearranged the chairs around the table.

“What?”

“You’re not carrying anything. It’s all heavy and we’re not risking you hurting yourself,” Jake insisted, walking over to you. “Just relax.”

“I think I can drag a chair a few inches,” you stated, shooting Jake a playful look. “But I won’t carry anything heavy. Promise.”

“Thank you,” Jake replied softly. “How’re they today?”

“I think I’m feeling flutters, but I don’t really know. I only seem to feel them when I’m trying to sleep, so I don’t know if I’m imaging them.”

Your twenty-week appointment was about a week away and both of you were a bit anxious about it. Of course, every first-time parent worried about the worst case-scenario at that appointment. That they were going to get some kind of news that would change the little fairytale that they built up in their mind.

“Only when you’re trying to sleep?”

“Yeah, I think so. Why?”

“It’s like they’re teasing you. Or trying to stress you out more.”

“They’re stubborn, that’s all.”

“They get it from both sides,” Jake replied, brushing his fingers down your bump.

“Hopefully, they’re not too stubborn coming out,” you stated, glancing down at your bump as Jake took a step closer to you. Smiling up at him, you let out a chuckle. “What?”

“I’m just thinking about all the gas I’ll save when I don’t have to drive over here anymore," he explained, causing you to raise an eyebrow.

“The gas, of course,” you hummed.

You let out a louder giggle as Jake leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek and then down your neck. The two of you, since your kiss in the kitchen, had gotten a lot more comfortable and handsy with each other over the next few days. You hadn’t taken it all the way yet, both of you were still cautious about pushing too hard too fast, but you seemed to be moving in that direction. It was starting to remind you of how the two of you were before you found out that you were pregnant.

Jake pressed a lingering kiss to your lips as his strong arms pulled you closer. And as you tangled your hand in his hair, returning the kiss, you heard the door to your apartment open. You turned your head and reflexively pushed Jake off of you when you saw Maverick standing there.

“Hey, Mav,” you greeted awkwardly, running a hand through your hair. “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course. Though you looked as if you weren’t expecting company,” Maverick quipped, working on his key ring.

“I can explain,” Jake stated, causing Maverick to shake his head.

“You already got her pregnant, Jake. There’s not much left to explain beyond that.”

“Mav,” you sighed, feeling like a teenager again.

“Trailer’s parked out front. I didn’t know how you wanted to divide things up. Penny said that she would bring lunch over to your new apartment. And Bradley told me that he was leaving a couple minutes ago.”

“Great,” Jake replied dryly.

“There's not too much left at least,” you stated, trying to perk Jake up. “But I have to give the key back to my landlord, Mav.”

Maverick pulled your spare key off of his chain and handed it over to you before turning to Jake. The two of them started to carry stuff downstairs to the trailer or Jake’s truck while you started to sweep up and do your final round of cleaning so that your landlord didn’t charge you extra.

Jake and Maverick were out by the trailer, sliding your dresser into the back when Rooster walked over with his keys in hand. Leaning on the trailer wall, Rooster and Jake shared a glare before Bradley turned to Maverick.

“Emma’s going to meet us there with Penny. I’ll text her when we’re finished up here.”

“We’ve still got a few trips left before that,” Maverick reported, walking over to Bradley. “We’re going to do the couch next.”

Bradley nodded and turned to head inside with Mav, leaving Jake to walk by himself. Jake wasn’t too perturbed. He was expecting the treatment from Bradley and the fact that Maverick hadn’t pushed him down the stairs after seeing the two of you together felt like a small victory.

You were wiping down the counters when they returned to your apartment. You moved to greet your brother before the three of them walked over to your couch. You stood a bit nervously by the door, holding it open for them.

“Please don’t hurt yourselves,” you told them as they started to carry it out.

“We’ll be fine,” Jake assured you as he passed by.

You watched them go before shutting the door. Moving over to the window, you sat down and watched for them. It was only three floors, but you knew that you wouldn’t be able to focus until the three of them emerged together. You weren’t so worried that the couch would be too heavy or anything like that. You were more concerned that they would use it to hurt each other.

Jake and Bradley carried the ends of the couch while Maverick stood in the middle. Bradley stood on the lower set of stairs, simply because Jake wasn’t stupid and refused to step down first. Otherwise, he wasn’t confident that he would make it down to the bottom of the stairs. Not without a crack in the back of his head. Again, he wasn’t stupid.

“Lift it up more,” Bradley grunted as they tried to turn one of the last corners.

“I am,” Jake huffed back at him.

“I wouldn’t have asked if you just did it,” Bradley snapped at Jake.

“Just lift, both of you,” Maverick stated firmly, shooting them both a look.

They managed to walk around the corner with the couch and down the last set of stairs before setting the couch down on the floor to catch their breath and relieve their muscles. Bradley leaned on the couch, glaring over at Jake as Jake stretched his arms casually. Maverick was silent, but he was clearly watching them.

“So, why are we moving my sister into your tiny apartment again, Hangman?”

“Her lease is up and we’re having a baby together,” Hangman stated, like Rooster was as dumb as a brick.

“And you couldn’t even get an apartment with enough room for a crib in it?”

“Bradley,” Maverick stated, shooting him a look.

“There’s enough room for a crib,” Jake snapped back at Bradley. “We already mapped it out. We wrote down the exact dimensions that we need. And even if we didn’t, it’s none of your fucking business, Rooster.”

“Jake,” Maverick sighed, turning to the annoyed aviator.

“It is my business when it involves my sister and my niece or nephew.” Bradley straightened up, staring Jake down. “She told me that you were looking at houses, but yet she said that she hasn’t been to any house showings. Why is that?”

“None of your fucking business, Rooster.”

“It’s not? Because it sounds like you’re selling a fantasy to my sister that you’re never actually going to deliver.”

“That’s enough,” Maverick replied to both of them.

“You would want your sister to just move into the first house that we found and could close on?” Jake stated, staring Bradley down. “We’re looking. But there’s other things that are more pressing that we have to deal with. But again, it’s none of your fucking business.”

“And does she know that? Have you told her that?”

“Alright, pick up your ends, let’s get it put into the trailer,” Maverick snapped, effectively ending the argument.

You watched from above as Jake, Bradley, and Maverick walked out to the trailer with the couch. Letting out a breath of relief, you got up and turned to clean once again. There was just the tables, chairs, and another small dresser left, which Jake, Bradley, and Maverick carried down in three more trips.

When it was all cleaned up, you took a moment to walk through the empty rooms, reminiscing about the memories that the place brought you. It was a sanctuary for you for a time. An escape, really. But it was an apartment for a version of you that was quickly disappearing and in a few short months would be gone completely.

You had grown out of it. And it was time to move on.

“You alright?” Jake asked softly, standing at the threshold of the apartment.

“Yeah,” you replied, turning to him with a small smile. “I’m okay.”

Picking up the keys, you walked over to Jake, pressed a kiss to his lips, and headed out. And into the new phase of your life.

~~~~~

You and Jake arrived at your shared apartment first, since Maverick and Bradley were dropping off some stuff at their respective houses first. Penny was waiting for you in the parking lot and Jake assured you that he would be fine carrying everything himself.

“So, how’d moving out go?” Penny asked you as you walked up the stairs. Your now shared apartment was on the third floor, so it was one less set of stairs than your previous apartment. “Pete gave me a brief overview.”

“He probably knows better than me. He was the one who was dealing with them,” you sighed, pulling out your new set of keys. “I just want them to be able to coexist. They don’t have to like each other. Hell, they don’t even need to speak to each other. I just need them to be able to sit in the same room and not try to kill each other.”

“They’re both stubborn and set in their ways,” Penny replied, shaking her head. “Have you talked to Emma about Bradley?”

“Yeah, but there’s only so much she can do. Ever since Mom died, he’s always felt the need to be so protective over me. And I appreciated it sometimes but now I don’t need it now. I just want him to be happy for me. For us, me and Jake.”

“He will. Maybe he just needs to see Jake supporting you—not that he isn’t already—for that to start to happen.”

“He better get over it by the time I have this baby or I swear,” you muttered, moving to unlock your front door. You turned to Penny with less annoyance in your features. “You know, I really want to make Bradley and Emma the baby’s godparents. And the baby’s guardians if something were to happen to the both of us and—”

“—Don’t talk like that,” Penny interrupted you, grabbing your shoulders.

“Penny,” you sighed as the door shut behind her, “I’m not living in some delusion where I don’t think that bad things can happen. And I want it all written down and signed and everything before I give birth or just in case Jake gets dragged away.” Placing a hand on your bump, you looked down. “I want to be prepared.”

“Hey, today is a happy occasion. You can focus on that stuff at another time. Right now, just enjoy the fact that everyone is healthy and that you’re moving forward in your relationship with Jake, okay?” You nodded slowly and Penny pulled you in for a tight motherly hug. “And that’s why I got you a gift.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything, Penny.”

“I know, but I saw it and just thought of you,” Penny replied, pulling away and reaching into the bag that she brought.

“And you definitely didn’t need to wrap it,” you mused, taking the box from her hand.

Gently tearing at the wrapping paper, you glanced up when the door opened and Jake walked in, carrying your nightstand and dragging a suitcase behind him. You shot him a smile as he glanced curiously down at the gift in your hands.

“What’s that?”

“Just a small gift,” Penny insisted, smiling kindly.

You tore away the rest of the wrapping paper and pulled out a rectangular plaque. You were a bit confused when you noted the three raised squares, but when you read the painted letters above them, it all clicked.

The message of ‘Daddy’ + ‘Mommy’ = ‘Baby’ was so simple, yet so emotionally overwhelming.

“You’re supposed to put your handprints here,” Penny explained, pointing at the squares. “Jake can put his handprint here and then you can put yours there and then when your baby comes, you can put their handprint there. They recommended red and white for your hands if it’s a girl, so that her handprint is pink. Or white and a darker blue if it’s a boy, so that his handprint would be a baby blue. And you can paint the baby’s name below the square too, right there.”

“I love it,” you croaked out, emotions quickly bursting to the surface. “Thank you, Penny. I love it, I love it so much.”

You pulled Penny back in for a tight hug, tears starting to stream down your cheeks. Jake looked on, concerned, but Penny gave him a reassuring smile and mouthed that it was alright. And when Jake continued to look concerned, Penny whispered ‘hormones’ to him. Jake nodded slowly and gently took the plaque from your hands.

“I don’t even know why I’m crying,” you breathed out, wiping them away hastily. “It just hit me all of a sudden.”

“It’s been a long day. You’re making big steps. It’s a lot to take in all at once.”

“Yeah,” you breathed out, trying to get a reign on your emotions again. Turning back to Jake, who was still staring at you with a measure of concern. “Where do you think we should put it up, once it’s complete?”

“Somewhere everyone can see it,” Jake suggested, causing you to smile and nod in agreement.

~~~~~

Since most of your stuff was already at Jake’s apartment, it didn’t take too much longer to fully make it your shared space. And you already made space in the living room for baby stuff. It was still early, you knew, but the alternative was researching about what horrible things you could find out at your twenty-week appointment, so you kept on decorating.

But today was the day, so you supposed that you couldn’t push it off anymore.

Waiting a bit anxiously in your car, you let out a breath when you spotted Jake’s truck pull into the lot. You grabbed your purse and slipped out of your car, walking over to where Jake parked. He got out of his truck, dressed in his day uniform, and quickly moved to your side. Pulling you in for a gentle hug, he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Are you alright?” he asked you, causing you to nod against his chest. “Everything’s going to be fine. Whatever we find out, it’s going to be fine, okay?”

Jake locked up his truck before the two of you headed inside the office. You checked in and sat down, filling out some paperwork while Jake rested his arm behind your back. And when your name was called, the two of you silently walked back to the exam room. Laying back on the exam table, you stared at the ceiling as Jake rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb.

A knock at the door made you sit up and move to the edge of the examination table. Your obstetrician walked inside the room with a kind smile. It started off as any regular doctor’s appointment would. You went over your symptoms, your pains, your bloodwork, and everything else before moving onto the ultrasound.

You immediately reached for Jake as the wand touched your belly and he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. She moved it around, typing away at her computer, taking a few images and measurements, before turning to you with a reassuring smile.

“Your baby’s growing normally and as they should. Everything is measuring normal. They’re a little smaller than average, but nothing to be concerned about. They’re still a perfectly healthy and normal size.” She typed something else before turning back to you and Jake. “Do you still want to wait to know the baby’s sex?”

“Yes, please,” you answered quickly.

“Alright, well, I’m just going to turn the screen briefly,” your obstetrician replied, hiding the information from you and Jake.

“You can tell?” you asked quietly.

“Yes, but all the files are marked to keep that information completely private. Unless you change your mind, of course.”

You nodded and shared a look with Jake, who pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. Your obstetrician typed away again before moving the screen back to your view. And as she continued to tell you that everything was normal and healthy, you sunk in and started to relax and enjoy the moment.

“Your baby seems to be a bit stubborn,” your obstetrician noted, trying to move the wand around your belly again to take some more measurements. “They start to cooperate and then seem to decide not to about three seconds later.”

“That’s not shocking,” you mused, watching the movement of your child on the screen. “Stubbornness is probably genetic for them.”

After a few more pictures, your belly was wiped off and you sat up once again. Your obstetrician smiled kindly as she sat down on her stool in front of you. Jake sat beside you, more relaxed than when he walked in, but still alert, as your obstetrician turned to you.

“Alright, there’s just a few more screening questions and then we’re all set.”

“Of course,” you agreed, nodding slowly.

“Mr. Seresin,” your obstetrician stated, causing Jake to turn to her. “Did you want to go and grab the ultrasound photos? A tech can bring you back there. And you can ask them any questions of your own about the process.”

Jake hesitated for a moment but agreed and got up from his seat. You squeezed his hand in goodbye before he exited the room with one of the techs. Your obstetrician waited until he was gone before turning to you.

“At the twenty week appointment, we usually perform a screening of your mental health.” After you nodded, she began. “Have you ever had a history of mental illness? Anxiety? Depression? Eating disorders? Anything like that?”

“Yes,” you answered softly. “Depression and anxiety.”

“When?” she asked, poised to type down the information.

“My mother passed away when I was twelve. And after that, I was diagnosed with depression and put in talk therapy for a time. But I stopped that when I was eighteen. And they put me on anti-anxiety medication when I was sixteen.”

“Are you still on that medication?”

“No, I stopped it about a year afterwards. I was just going through a lot at the time and talk therapy wasn’t working completely. It was just to get me through that time and then I didn’t need it anymore.”

“Have you had any flare ups since then?”

“A few times,” you answered honestly.

“You didn’t go back to talk therapy or medication or anything?”

“No, I just . . . waited for it to get better, I suppose. Probably wasn't the best decision, but I survived.”

“Can I ask why you didn’t return to therapy or medication?”

“Honestly, the only reason I went to therapy or went on medication when I was a teenager was because I had people in my family push me in that direction. But when I was an adult, I just . . . I wanted to just handle it quietly.”

“Well, please document if you feel any depression or anxiety during your pregnancy and your postpartum period. It’s an overwhelming time for anyone and there’s no shame in asking for help of any kind.” Your obstetrician paused before asking softly, “Do you trust your partner to help you if you feel depressed or anxious?”

“Yeah,” you answered honestly, nodding along.

“And are you two living together?”

“Yes, we are.”

“And you feel safe in that living situation? Do you feel safe and confident about bringing your baby into that environment?”

“Yes, completely.”

“Alright, well, please just document if you feel anxious or depressed.” She stood up and grabbed a pamphlet and handed it to you. “You can always call our office or there’s a helpline that you can call at any time. And there’s no shame in any of it.”

“Thank you,” you replied, thumbing through the pamphlet.

~~~~~

That night, you and Jake laid in bed, looking at the photos from your ultrasound together. You were curled up on his chest, resting most of your weight on him as Jake wrapped his arm around your waist, cupping your continuously growing bump with his hand.

“Were you a small baby?” you asked Jake softly, staring at the ultrasound picture of your baby.

“What?” he questioned, turning to you with some confusion.

“Were you a small baby when you were born?” you repeated for him. “She said that the baby was smaller than average.”

“I never asked,” Jake replied, a bit elusively.

“I was normal weight, according to my mom,” you stated, still staring at the photo. “Bradley was a large baby with a big fat head, but I was normal weight and size. Mav said that after I was born, my mom told my dad that she wished that I was born first. It would have been an easier delivery, she told him.”

“You think that they’ll stay smaller?”

“I hope so,” you mused with a smile. “I’d prefer a six pound baby to a ten pound baby, thank you very much.” You turned to Jake with a soft look in your eye, resting your head on his shoulder. “Your mom never complained to you about how big your head was or how you were overactive in her belly or anything like that?”

“No,” Jake replied shortly.

Your smile slipped a bit and you turned back to the ultrasound photo. Jake rubbed his hand slowly up and down your bump, soothing you in one way but making another part of you wander from his side.

“Can I take this one?” Jake asked, causing you to turn back to him.

“What?”

“Can I take this one with me?” Jake asked you again, pointing at one photo from the roll. “I was thinking about putting a photo from the ultrasound in my cockpit. If that’s alright with you.”

“Yeah, of course,” you agreed, nodding to him and offering him a smile. “I think that’s sweet.”

Jake nodded in return and pressed a kiss to your forehead. The two of you turned in for the night shortly afterwards. Rolling onto your side, you rested your head on your hand, staring out at the window. Jake gave your bump one last loving squeeze before moving away to fall asleep. And although you were exhausted and needed sleep, your mind kept you awake.

Staring at the window again, you paused when you felt that little flutter again. You smiled to yourself and glanced down at your bump.

“Right as I’m trying to go to sleep? Again?” you teased quietly.

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fashionteahouse · 2 months ago

Note

Paul is grumpy because his everyone is coupled up with their imprint and his is away for college but at the bonfire the girls surprise Paul with his imprint and he goes from a mean grumpy to a clingy sweetheart

this definitely seems fun to write 🤭💜 hope you enjoy :)

you’ll miss me when i’m not around - paul x reader

Paul looked at everybody and he was sick to his stomach. It just wasn’t fair to him. Imprints were clinging onto his pack brothers and he was nauseated by it. He wished his was here with him. He felt like fate wasn’t on his side tonight, taunting him with the love fest, reminding him of what he couldn’t have.

It was painful for him while you were away at college. He replayed the day you departed. That was the last time he saw you in person. Phone calls weren’t enough. Video calls weren’t enough. He missed feeling you physically. He was devastated when he found out you couldn’t come home for spring break.

“I’m all caught up here. i wish i didn’t have to stay :( ”

He kept staring at the text because he just couldn’t bring himself to believe it.

Now he had to sit here and suck it up.

“Paul! Come play soccer with us!” Seth called over to him.

Paul just ignored him. The only time he opened his mouth was to drink the beer that he decided to nurse.

“Paul? You’re not going to join?” Jacob says with his imprint clinging onto his arm.

“My god! Leave me alone!” Paul snapped at him. They could clearly see he was miserable and they kept bothering him.

Jacob and Seth didn’t mean to. They wanted him to play soccer with them to keep his mind off of what he’s thinking about. He kept thinking of you.

Emily told the girls to bring two extra packs of ice since the one in the cooler was melting. They giggle as they leave off the premises.

“Alright, I’m going back home.” Paul announces.

Everyone turns to look at him and they don’t want him to go.

“Just at least stay until the girls come back please?” Emily tries to plead with him.

“I’m not staying for ice Emily.” he says to her.

“Alright. I’ll let you leave if you just place one game. One game and you can leave.” Sam says with a soccer ball in his hands.

Paul rolls his eyes and throws his hands in the air. “Fine!”

Paul’s mood still didn’t improve. He didn’t even care for the game, not even trying hard to play defense.

His team was winning but that didn’t stop him from moping and being grumpy.

The girls finally come back and they walk down.

You’re trying your best to stay behind Kim and Leah.

“We’re back with the ice.” Leah says to Emily and Paul immediately starts to walk away, abandoning the game, right when it’s in the middle of it.

You catch wind of this and move out of the way.

“Paul!” you call to him excitedly.

He freezes and turns around and his entire face lights up like a child on christmas. You go to him and he scoops you up into his arms and kisses you senseless. You’re laughing, feeling a bit suffocated but you didn’t care. He held you tight like a teddy bear and your feet were off of the ground.

“I thought you couldn’t come home.” he says to you.

“I just said that to surprise you.” you tell him.

His eyes narrow and gives a smirk, “I should punish you for that.” You couldn’t help but smile.

He followed you around for the rest of the night. He never left your side.

You were eating your food in his lap while he rubbed your back. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

“Wish you would’ve came sooner. He’s been taking his grumpiness out on everybody.” Seth tells you.

Paul just simply says while staring at you with adoration, “I just missed my baby that’s all.”

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dilfdemolisher · 3 months ago

Text

ETERNAL - Hannibal Vampire AU

Summary: Recently turned by your physiatrist after being found on the brink of death causes more then emotional turmoil when you can no longer fight the feeling of hunger - Comments and critiques are encouraged.

Content Warning: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, cannibalism, gore, it's implied the reader attempted suicide, suicidal thoughts, manipulation, implied death

Word Count: 1.4k

You shake your head in disbelief. “This is ridiculous. I did not consent to this.”

He smiles, “This specifically? No, but you did consent to be bitten. It is not my fault you are regretting your choice.”

You cannot stand his smug satisfaction that he draws from your discomfort.

“I wasn’t given full specifics of what this would entail, and I was vulnerable and incoherent. Someone on the brink of death doesn't understand things clearly.”

He steps closer; you can’t help but tense at his body nearing yours. "You said yes because you trusted me, and why should you stop now?�� His chilly hand cups your own cold cheek.

Everything is so firm, as you’ve noticed since you turned. It makes you so inhuman that you’ll never get to appreciate warmth again—no hot baths, no more feeling the sun’s heat on your skin. You are now chained to a cold castle, inhabited by a cold, cruel man.

“You transformed me into a monster; you’re the last thing I’d ever want to be, and you’ve cursed me with just that.” You insult while looking into his eyes. It’s hard to believe you once admired him as an intelligent, handsome man. But now, when you look into him, you understand what a dark, hollow man he is inside.

His nails dig into your cheek slightly. You feel that he should pierce through your skin, but despite the pain blooming, your cheek stays taught, and no puncture wounds form.

The physicality of your transformation continues to surprise you. The cold skin that covers your body reminds you of porcelain in a sense; it’s impossible to damage without shattering, causing complete destruction.

Nevertheless, you are persistent in your standing. “I was your patient; it was your goal to keep me sane. You failed and corrected your mistakes, once too late.”

After stealing a moment to observe you, he pulls away. “You’ll cave much sooner than you expect; I can already smell your hunger.” He says before walking away, leaving you alone with your thoughts and drying throat.

Hannibal was right. You’re caving.

At first, your mind started reeling at the ways you could most ethically eat. But it didn’t take long for morality to leave you alone, perpetually cold and hungry.

The noise in your brain is consuming you and is now too loud to ignore. It claws at your stomach and mind; it didn’t take long for you to start wailing. You falsely assumed you could go much longer without eating, like a reptile or spider. But it’s only been days since you’ve turned and hunger is crawling out of your throat in desperate cries.

Your bedroom door opens; it’s odd to call it that. It’s just a room in Hannibal's house with a bed, nightstand, and bookshelf—a place that should be cozy. But it’s not like you sleep in it. It's simply a space with four walls to wallow about your stolen death.

“I have something for you.” You hear his voice say. You are too exhausted to even acknowledge his presence. You don’t want a gift; you want to die.

He sighs, you hear him step closer to the bed in which you lay. “She’s unconscious, she won’t know a thing.”

When his attempt to soothe isn’t met with a single sound of recognition. He places a hand on your cheek, guiding your eyes to his. “She’s going to die either way, you can eat while she’s unconscious or I can devour her while she writhes.”

You could say no; you could shake your head and beg for a rat, you’d even morally compromise for a cat. But you’re so hungry.

An image of a woman drained and pale, fragile and lifeless that your head conjures does nothing but give you the energy you need. “Please.”

“Then come,” he smiles, holding his hand out to you.

Shakily, you rise. His hand stays firm on your lower back as he guides you into the living area.

And there she is, the human you’ll steal their life from, her future, her life, her love. All to be greedily swallowed by you.

Hannibal watches your reaction closely, the intensity of his gaze piercing through the dimly lit room. You can feel his satisfaction, his anticipation. The human lies motionless on the couch, her chest rising and falling in a slow, rhythmic manner. She’s so fragile, so warm. You catch the faint scent of her blood, a scent that suddenly fills the room, sharper and sweeter than anything you’ve ever known.

Your throat tightens, a raw, burning sensation that pulses through you with every breath. You step closer, feet moving of their own accord. The hunger gnaws at you, each step a battle between what’s left of your humanity and the predator you've become.

Hannibal’s voice breaks through the haze. “You’re fighting yourself, but why? This is what you are now. Accept it, and the pain will subside.”

His words dig into you like knives. You hate him for it. Hate him for turning you, for binding you to this monstrous existence. But most of all, you hate him for being right. The hunger is unbearable, an insatiable craving that dominates every thought, every fiber of your being. You clench your fists, your nails biting into the skin of your palms, but the pain does nothing to distract you from the scent of the blood calling to you.

Hannibal steps closer, his breath cold against your ear. “She’s yours. Take her.”

You close your eyes, trying to remember who you were before this nightmare. But those memories feel distant, slipping through your grasp like sand. All you can feel is the hunger, a relentless, throbbing need that clouds everything else. You open your eyes, staring at the woman lying before you, her life hanging by a thread. It would be so easy, just one bite, and the hunger would be gone.

You lower yourself beside her, hands trembling as they hover above her throat. Her pulse is steady, the sound of her heartbeat deafening in your ears. Your fangs ache, desperate to sink into her soft, warm skin. You hesitate, but Hannibal’s presence looms behind you, his shadow pressing you forward.

“You don’t have to suffer,” he whispers.

With a gasp, you lean forward, your lips brushing her neck. The warmth of her skin against yours sends a jolt of electricity through your body, and before you can stop yourself, your fangs pierce her flesh. The rush of blood fills your mouth, hot and intoxicating, more powerful than anything you could have imagined.

For a brief, terrible moment, everything else fades away. The guilt, the shame, the hatred—it all melts into nothing as the hunger is sated. The warmth spreads through your body, filling you with a twisted sense of satisfaction. You drink deeply, feeling her life drain away with every pull, her heartbeat growing fainter as she rushes down your throat.

But then, something shifts inside you. The realization of what you're doing, of what you’ve become. You pull back, breath ragged, her blood still staining your lips. The woman lies there, pale and barely breathing, her life slipping through your fingers. You look down at her, horrified by what you've done, by what you are.

Hannibal is beside you, watching with that same smug smile. "You see now, don’t you?" he says, voice laced with dark satisfaction.

You stumble away from the woman, the taste of her blood still clinging to your tongue. “I don’t want this,” you whisper, but the words feel hollow, meaningless; you know you’ll want it again. The hunger never truly goes away. It’s always lurking, always waiting for the next moment of weakness.

Hannibal steps closer, placing a hand on your shoulder. "The sooner you accept what you are, the easier it will be. You’re free now—free from the limitations of mortality, free from the weaknesses that once held you back."

You shake your head, backing away from him. His smile fades, replaced by something darker, more dangerous. "You’ll learn in time, the gift I’ve given you" he says quietly.

Without another word, he turns and leaves the room, his footsteps echoing in the emptiness. You're left standing there, trembling, staring down at the fragile life you’ve just torn apart.

#hannibal nbc #hannibal #nbc hannibal #mads mikkelsen #hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal fanfiction #vampire!reader #vampire!au #vampire!hannibal #hannibal x reader

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kyoshitargaryen · 3 months ago

Text

shifting tips for neurodivergent shifters!

shifting tips for autistic people, and for those with ADHD and OCD! for scripting ideas, click here! (coming soon!)

hey, everyone! I'm autistic and I have ADHD and OCD -- all of these things have greatly impacted my journey. these are some of the things that have helped me progress with shifting and with getting to a healthy place mentally in general. note : I have aphantasia, so any time I mention "visualizing" it moreso means thinking of it. instead of seeing "visualizing" as something you can't do, put it into perspective of the things you CAN do. if you can daydream, you can visualize, even if you're not physically seeing anything. don't let it stop you!!

tips!

don't think that you can't shift while autistic. I've done it, and you will too if you haven't already. the only thing that could stop you is your own lack of belief.

if you're like me, you take everything extremely literally. that makes understanding what people -- especially neurotypical people -- mean when they give advice difficult and even harder to apply. here's some things that I've realized about common shifting tips.

5 Senses Methods

I've noticed that some people who talk about "using" your senses, don't exactly mean to use them or to force them. for the longest time, I kept getting so caught up in trying to force the experience that I was keeping myself from shifting entirely instead of trying to physically hear something, or taste or smell or feel, focus more on understanding how those senses work. you probably know the taste of your favourite soda. you probably know what steak or chicken tastes like. you know how when you have your mind set on a particular dinner or drink or experience, you HAVE to have it or else you won't be hungry or thirsty or excited? you KNOW what those things taste like. you KNOW what you expect, all while not physically having those things in front of you. try living in that expectation, in the knowledge and understanding of what you're going to get. this also works with general manifestation! think about what you're wanting for dinner tonight. think about your dream vacation destination. just lightly imagine it. you might be able to almost taste it now. you might be able to almost feel the wind on your skin, or a light rain, or warm sunshine. try approaching shifting like that!

I struggled for the longest time over letting myself move when I go to shift. Feeling symptoms go away just because I had to move or twitched unconsciously was so frustrating. I actually forced myself to lay perfectly still on my back even while feeling physical discomfort and pain. yes, I understood that you can move, and that you don't need symptoms to shift, but I was so caught up in feeling the transition and in my body in general that I found it impossible to let go of control like that. when I first tried focusing on the position my body would be in in my desired reality, I focused way too hard on feeling it. and I'll be honest, forcing myself to feel the physical sensation of laying down in a different position did work. I really did feel it. It just didn't help me shift. and obviously the moments where I would become more aware of my body in this reality or I needed to move were practically devastating. but then something clicked. I was so busy trying to feel my whole body in my desired reality that I was only grounding myself in this reality, and I was slowing down if not outright stopping myself from shifting. you know how you breathe automatically until you are suddenly reminded that you have to breathe to survive? or how you don't necessarily feel your knees or your toes until you think about them? you're only aware of the parts of your body that you are actively interacting with. our minds are trained to tune out a large amount of the sensory information going on in our bodies. imagine how exhausting it would be if you had to manually pump your heart. you probably don't feel what you're sitting or laying down on after you've been there for a long period of time, unless you're actively feeling discomfort or pain. take a moment to take stock of your body. now that you're aware of it -- you probably feel so much more than you did a few minutes ago when you weren't thinking of it. keep that in mind! now pay attention to the places your body overlaps. right now, my elbows are on my lap, and my ankles are tucked under my thighs. the places where your body overlaps are the easiest things to focus on and remember. picture yourself in the passenger seat of a car. you're tired, so you're leaning down on the centre console. your head is tucked into your elbow to shield your eyes from light. focus on the parts of your body that overlap. you KNOW how it feels to rest your head in your elbow. you likely know how it feels to sleep in the passenger seat. instead of trying to pay attention to your body as a whole, think of these little contact points. do this for a few minutes, and I guarantee you that you'll eventually begin to actually feel it, or at least, you'll forget about your physical body in this reality. don't make yourself feel this things, just remember how it feels. this way of aligning myself to my desired reality makes the process go by so much faster. once I feel comfortable remembering how my body would feel in that position, I move on to other things. I remember how it would feel to have my fingers run over the seatbelt or the buckle. I remember how the blinker or the windshield wipers sound. slowly but surely, these things build up and then you're not consciously thinking of them anymore, you're just there. but the best part of it? it's so easy to get myself back into the "zone" if I move in my CR. since I'm not trying to feel a whole environment and my whole body at once, I'm able to quickly and easily remember and experience the position I'm in in my DR. I don't worry about symptoms, or even actively notice them. I'm just there. once I have put my focus on those few contact spots, I'm in my DR. then, it's just a waiting game for when I can open my eyes. I'm in no rush, because I'm just relaxing!

Staircase Method

don't worry about visualizing the perfect space. I was so caught up in making sure the amount of stairs I was walking up or down matched the environment I was thinking of. don't worry about that. the only thing that matters is getting yourself to a point where you're relaxed and you can let go of your original reality. I kinda see shifting as removing velcro. your consciousness is velcro'd to this reality, especially when you're inexperienced with shifting, have doubts, or are going through a slump. the deeper you get into a method, the farther you get from focusing on your CR (the fact that you're still there, that you still feel your body, that you still hear and smell your CR environment), the more the velcro releases. if you try to make everything perfect, you're only making yourself realize that you're not actually in your DR, that you're just doing a method. instead, just focus on knowing how it feels to walk up or down stairs. don't worry about a length of time, or the number of stairs. don't worry about any turns or bends, just go straight up or down. once you feel like the "velcro" of this reality has released, you're ready to enter your DR.

Counting

at the beginning of my shifting journey, I was obsessed with making sure I counted correctly. if I accidentally skipped or repeated a number, I would get so frustrated. don't worry about being accurate or perfect. the sun does not rise and fall on your ability to count on endlessly. focusing too hard on counting will just keep you from becoming aware of your DR. again -- try not to focus so hard on the process of getting to your DR, try to just focus on being in your DR.

Just BE in Your DR (or, Let Go of Control)

I have two ways that I love to describe this;

it's like driving a car. when you've reached your destination, you put the car in park, you turn it off, and you get out. you don't drive past it, or keep hitting the gas, you don't assume that you haven't made it yet. you just know you're there.

it's like trying to fall asleep. you might be counting sheep, or daydreaming, or thinking about what you want to dream of, but you're NOT thinking about how to get home, you're not thinking about changing your clothes, or brushing your teeth, or doing your nighttime routine. you're just there, in your bed, waiting for sleep to take you. you know there's nothing left to do but sleep. so let yourself exist in your DR. think of methods as a way for you to pass time in your DR rather than a way of getting there. you're on a long car ride, or the hogwarts express, or in the middle of a lull hour at your job. you have freetime, so you just keep your mind busy enough to be entertained (and possibly ready to go if you're needed). just relax. you're there. you're just don't need to be "on" right now. think of how you mask in social situations, but you unmask when you're by yourself or you're somewhere safe and comfortable. your mask doesn't need to be on! your customer service voice doesn't need to be used. think of it like being idle in a video game!

Dealing with Intrusive Thoughts

especially when I go to shift, I get intrusive thoughts. what if everyone hates me? what if my s/o cheats on me? what if I somehow cause a sequence of events that gets someone or an animal hurt or killed? it doesn't matter if I have things scripted to prevent all of these, my brain thinks them anyway. intrusive thoughts don't bend to logic. so don't try to use logic to fight them. it's gonna sound kinda crazy, but just think the opposite every time they come up. thoughts are just thoughts. even the ones that seem really scary and really powerful.

Call him Voldemort, Harry. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself.

as much as I dislike Dumbledore, he kinda ate here. it's the same thing with thoughts -- if you have an intrusive thought, immediately combat it with the opposite sentiment. it might seem ridiculous or pointless at first, but I promise you, it will work eventually. this has been my favourite way to heal through my anxiety and my ocd. no, it doesn't go away, but I've learned how to manage them, and how to stop fearing them. they're just shadows, and all they need is light to be driven away. have you ever done or said something ironically or as a joke, and then somehow over time it became a genuine part of your personality? that's because your brain is even more literal than you are -- it can't tell when you're doing something as a joke, it just knows that you ARE doing something. that's what "fake it until you make it" is all about. it's how I've completely transformed my world, manifested physical changes, created a better self image and grew my confidence level. one day you'll be thinking poorly of yourself, but then eventually, once you start actively fighting against those thoughts, your brain catches up to them and believes it as fact. that's the magic behind affirmations! don't think you can only use them to shift or to manifest. you can use them just as effectively to make changes within yourself!

that's all for now! I hope these tips help you guys, because they really have changed both my life and my shifting / manifestation journey for the better.

yoshi !!

#reality shifter #shifting community #shifting blog #shiftblr #reality shifting #desired reality #reality shifting tips #quantum jumping #shifting realities #anti shifters dni #shifting antis dni #shifting motivation

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kingdomhearts-and-soriku-trash · 5 months ago

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Something that without fail always makes me cry about Soriku is when I think about Riku’s feelings post KH 3, and other times when he’s separated from Sora, and the time when Sora is missing. Like, I think about Sora’s emotions and turmoil when he has his memory problems, he’s separated from Riku and he’s desperately trying to get back to him, and think about everything he goes through in all the KH games.

But then Riku comes into my mind, and specifically the post KH 3. Like…I just imagine Riku is so worried and desperate just like Sora was in KH 2, possibly even more. I always imagine that Riku and Sora knew, before the whole KH story began, where each other were at almost all times. They were best friends since they were little, and they were together very often even when Kairi joined them. If they weren’t together, they at least knew where they would be or had a good guess.

And they weren’t apart for long either. Maybe a day AT MOST.

But then the whole KH series happens, and they’re apart for so long and filled with tension, BUT I feel like Riku knew where Sora was, especially since they kept running into each other. And then I just think about Riku’s headspace in 358/2 Days since, like, once again Riku knows where Sora is. He’s sleeping and is in a safe place that Riku can reach if he feels like something is wrong. Going back a little, even in CoM he knew Sora was in the castle when he was there as well. He just had to find him. He knew where he was. That was good enough.

KH 2? He knew where he was and helped him and they FINALLY reunited. I feel like Riku didn’t show it much, but he felt such relief, excitement, love and SO many other emotions. It’s overwhelming, but he hides it because he has to. At least he feels that way then.

But anyways then DDD happens and Riku kinda knows where Sora is. He’s in dreams and it’s all confusing, but eventually he learns where he is and knows what’s wrong (from what I remember but I may be wrong). They were separated at first, but they KNEW they were together at the same time, so there wasn’t much worry or fear. They literally talk about each other 24/7 and certain problems get fixed BECAUSE OF THE OTHER ONE COMMUNICATING AND HELPING THE OTHER. And then the ending of KH 3 happens. And it hurts (massively) to think about how this is one of the few times in Riku’s life, that he doesn’t know where Sora is.

He doesn’t know where he is, and it eats at him.

I think about their connection with their hearts and Riku’s dream eater symbol. A constant reminder that Sora is dreaming whether it be good or bad. If he’s dreaming, then he’s alive. He’s somewhere and he will find him. He won’t stop until he finds him, and though the mark hurts at times, because of nightmares, it brings a sort of comfort. If he’s dreaming, then he’s alive. He must be. And then their connection in his heart is still there. It’s not as strong as it once was, since I believe with everything going on it’s definitely stressed, but its. Still. There.

So he must be somewhere.

And once again thinking about the dream eater symbol, I’ve always seen it as burning when Sora is having a nightmare. And so I feel even more sad for Riku because he KNOWS he’s hurting, it keeps him up on certain nights from the pain, and he can’t help. This is the time when he wants to help (unlike KH 1), when it is literally a craving and NEED for him, but he can’t. He puts in the effort to help without being there physically, but the burning feeling doesn’t go away, so he’s still suffering.

The only moments I feel like Riku would feel some peace is when the DE (dream eater) symbol feels…cool. Like it gives him a cold feeling but not freezing. It just feels cool and nice, so he knows he’s having a good dream and not a nightmare. For that time, he knows he’s okay. Or maybe not okay, but having peace for a moment. But still, he doesn’t know where he specifically is. He cannot simply call him on the phone and talk and see his face line he did in KH 3 when he and Mickey were in Radiant Gardens.

I imagine this genuinely hurting Riku bc ofc they get back together finally and are facing some of their problems, only to be pulled apart AGAIN, and both suffering in their own ways and adding to the trauma they both already have. I imagine this separation making him push himself to his limit, and possibly over it, using his abilities and any keyblade powers in the desperate hope of finding him. But it doesn’t work. It feels hopeless. I haven’t played Re:mind or the Symphony game (I can’t remember the name rn it’s literally 2 AM), so I’m missing some lore ik, but still these plague my mind.

And then another sad headcannon/idea I toss in my head late at night or at work is the possibility of their connection being broken suddenly, since I’ve seen theories for that. Their connection is strained and then it suddenly snaps. He no longer feels a burning pain or cool feeling from the DE symbol reacting to Sora’s dreams, and he doesn’t feel that pull in his heart anymore. He thought he would feel relief when the mark didn’t burn anymore at times, but now he wished IT DID. With that pain, like I’ve said, he knew he was alive.

But now a haunting and cruel thought is in his mind. A possibility that he doesn’t want to accept. If he’s not dreaming, then he might be dead. No dreams or nightmares? At all? Not like Sora. Not like any person. At least a LIVING person. So that thought haunts him on his late nights or when he’s pushed himself past his limit, once again out of the MANY times I feel like he would, and he’s not thinking straight and it hurts. His chest is tight, he’s slowly starting to hyperventilate when he sits in bed at night, his head hurts from working too hard, and then his pillow is covered in tears because he can’t stop them anymore, and then his head hurts WORSE because of the tears and the sadness he literally can’t hold back anymore.

He’s faced hurt before, he’s faced things he feared…but this one thing he refuses to face. He won’t accept it, not until he sees Sora’s body for himself, not until he feels the warmth from Sora gone completely. His light snuffed out like a mere candle.

He won’t accept it. He won’t face it. I feel like the thought of Sora being dead or severely hurt to the point where their connection is broken, is a fear and hurt that Riku won’t face for awhile. He’s strong, we know that duh (and Sora is too), but still. He’s faced the darkness, he’s faced Ansem, he’s fought everything that’s scared him head on…but this is something he can’t fight. He just has to let it sit in the deep part of his heart and eat at him until he finds Sora and tells himself that he’s there. He found him AGAIN.

He knows where he is, and Sora knows where Riku is. Finally. Their connection can heal, they both can help each other and open up more, finally go home, or at least someplace safe. Because honestly where is home for them anymore? Thats a problem to face in the future.

Because he’ll find him. Because he’s not dead or completely lost. He’s out there, and Riku knows it. That has to be it, right? He has to be alive. Sora wouldn’t give up or give in so easily, he’s literally bested death before. He can’t be truly gone…right?

#soriku #kingdom hearts #riku x sora #sora x riku #my writing #it just hurts me every time. Riku doesn’t have peace until Sora is back with him. it eats at him and he’s incomplete. his song is not #complete. the music sheet is ripped and he cannot continue until he finds the other piece. the other half of #their joined keyblade. the other half of his heart.#anyways I’m sad and tired so gn or good morning if you’re reading this in the morning since it’s so late lol #go to sleep if you see this rn at 2 AM >:(. be better than me

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diejager · 2 years ago

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I dont know if you write about it and it’s fine if you dont but I just wanna share my thoughts, if it’s alright with you. 🙂

Know what would make the siblings with Ghost fic? Inc*st. You’ve already laid the groundwork for it, tbh.

Being together most of the time in public and in private settings, men not being able to approach Doc due to Ghost intimidating them, the physical intimacy that is present and constant, and both being closed off to anyone else but to each other. It’s all there, just a bit more darkness and…tada!

I wont say anything anymore as I do not wish to offend you if this is not your cup of tea. But if it is, then I will look forward to your great work, as usual. Thank you and have a good day. 🥰

You, anon, are so blasphemously brilliant. Inc*st isn’t something I’ve done, and isn’t good per se irl, but this is fictional works. So, yeah, here ya go :D And like I said, I’m pretty loose with what I’m willing to write. PS. I am SO going to hell for this-

Pairing : big brother Simon “Ghost” Riley x lil sister reader

Cw: DARK, INC*ST, smut, yandere, DUB-CON, fingering, self-hate, tell me if I missed anything. Wc: 1.4k

NOTE: You've been warned about the content, if you don't like Inc*st, don't read it. Just don't report it, cuz that would be annoying.

YOUR CONSUMPTION OF MEDIA IS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY AND YOURS ALONE.

He knew it was wrong, the sheer sinful shame of his acts towards you made him a monster, a vile creature, one worse than the abusive father you shared. His intentions, his thoughts, his needs, they were so wrong, too wrong that he had to choke down the disgust that riled in his guts.

I’m disgusting, he repeated those words a dozen times, a hundred times, a million times, how many times he needed to get them to stop himself. I’m so fuckin’ disgusting.

Being able to look at himself in the mirror made the sinking feeling worse, he could see the face of the monster he was, not the one who wore a mask or hid behind a moniker; the face he glared at was Simon, the face that shared similarities to yours: the blond hair and the brown eyes. He had red-rimmed eyes, unlike your softer ones, full of life and power. He’d felt the need to break the mirror, shattering it into small pieces and watching his face crumble into fragments and blood, but it would make you worry so much. The blood in the bathroom tiles, wall and sink, his bloodied and roughly wrapped hand and the missing and broken glass would give him away; albeit a shattered mirror was enough for you to rush to him in a flurry of worried words and hushed comfort.

He felt so fucking disgusting, you cared so much about him, so much care and dedication you devoted to him and him alone since you’ve been young. The words you’d whisper in his ears at night when his regrets crawled out, burdening his mind with bloody and visceral images that terrorised him. You were his solid link, the anchor that held him firmly alive and sane, able enough to keep going.

You were his lifeline as he was yours, you clutched onto him for love and comfort while he latched on you for the same, but he had needs, dark ideas and images he made with you. His sacrilegious dreams and thoughts violated his image of you, the sweet girl he protected from your abusive father that would beat you and him.

Stop, this is disgusting, he kept reminding himself, screaming the words to himself in the bathroom, the shower head pouring scalding water upon his request as punishment. Stop it. Stop it, Simon, he screamed, but it never helped, the burning water, the frozen winter, or the pain from wounds, they all numbed until he seaked you out. Then, he couldn’t stop himself, his hands and mouth were so hungry.

You were always with him, and he was always with you; you were stuck by the hip. He came to you by habit, by instinct, by heart. You were his comfort and the only thing that mattered. That's why he was doing this, his need for a physical relationship, the carnal hunger he had, the darkness he wanted to share, all for you. The more selfish side of himself told him that he deserved it and that he was doing this for you. For you, anything.

“Si, are you sure?” you mumbled, breathing in the sweat and cologne on his throat, the thick muscle of his neck bulging when he gulped down harshly. “Si, I’m- I-“

“You trust me, don’t you, love?” he asked, wording his words in a way that would make you less hesitant, and question his intentions less whenever he called you love. It was the nickname everyone at home called you, the youngest of the family, the baby. “Do you?”

“‘Course I do, Si. Of course, I do,” you had a quirk of repeating your words when you got stressed, became so nervous that you’d stutter. It only happend with him or the team, feeling comfortable enough to let them in, to let down the wall you built around you and him enough so that they could see the real you. Task Force 141 truly became a new family, to him and to you.

He shushed your nerves, hands trailing down your backed back to your hips, thumb rubbing circles on your warm skin. You straddled him, he told you that it would make him feel better, it would help him relax and take the edge off. One hand went back to cradle the back of your neck and pushed your closer to him, his head laying on top of yours. His other went further down your back, cupping the fat of your ass, kneading with the softness. His blunt nails dug into your ass, index finding the tight rim of your anal hole.

You whined and clutched the back of his shirt tightly when he went lower, fore and middle finger bumping into your shaved lips, sliding to your slit and rubbing your clit. You opened your mouth to ask him once more, still hesitant to Simon’s idea, but a moan left instead. His hand rounded your thigh to deftly circle your button between his clothed torso and your sheer nakedness. You wanted to hide, feeling his rough, calloused pads writing eights on your sensitive nerve.

You fidgeted, writhing quietly over him, hip bucking forward and mewling when his forefinger would dip slightly into your cunt, tip sliding in before he pulled back to tease you. Although his intentions were to tease you, pleasure you, you felt the nagging discomfort of sharing this with Simon, he was your brother, the eldest of your family and the only one who you could seek comfort with. It never felt the same when you went to the other men, Simon never liked it either.

This wasn’t what siblings usually did, or should at all, but how could you deny him, tell your only family no. The burden of pulling back from him in his time of need would hurt more than the discomfort you felt at the moment, the buzzing in your mind and the tingling pleasure he was giving you. This was anything but normal, but for him, for Simon, you’d see it through.

“Si-!” you jerked back when he slipped a finger in, voice breaking when you cried out, huffing loudly onto the skin of his neck, where he kept you. “Wait-“ your nails sunk into the meat of his back, tapping him, telling him to slow down or wait a bit.

“I got ya, love,” Simon whispered calmly, adding another finger to pump in and out of your soaked cunt, your body reacted naturally to stimulus even if you’d cried no or stop, please, the body and mind were separate things. “I know, (Name), let me help ya.”

Help wasn’t what you’d qualify this as; although your body reacted to him, any body would do the same if they were on the receiving end. You wanted out, you wanted him to stop, but you also knew no one would love you the way Simon did, or the way Ghost did. He was your haven, your safe space that no one else could become, you already had him, why would you need anyone else.

“That’s right. Ya got me, so ya don’t need anyone else, right?”

You couldn’t reply, lost in the drowning sensation of being so full and stimulated by Simon, his big fingers dragging over the spot that made your mind numb and curling just right to make you see stars. Your body shook, crying out his name as pleasure washed over you, walls clamping on his digits, your hips bucked as you rode his hand.

This is wrong, this is so wrong, Si, you wished you could tell him, but the orgasm made all thought disappear. When was the last time you fucked someone, or dated? You couldn’t remember having anyone significant other than family in your life. Sure, you’ve laid with some soldiers and boys when you were younger, more spry than your current age, but those were long ago and none were as big as Simon was. Men were rarely his size and height, he was a rivalling force in the military and in life.

He was loving and tender, slowly pushing you over the edge a second and third time before he felt the need to stop, too ashamed of himself to relieve the unbarring and painful sensation of his hard cock straining against the tightness of his brief and pants. You were his priority, your pleasure being the sole purpose of this moment: locked in your shared room, walls reinforced to be sound-proof from the inside and being at the mercy of his skilled fingers.

He gazed at you, eyes squinting at the fiery blush on your cheeks, warm and sweaty, your eyes dazed and teary from him, tired even, and your breath and heart rapid, loud and gasping. Your eyes met his and you smiled at him tentatively, unsure of how he felt now. Did he feel better? What happened that made him so riled up, mad?

“I won’t let anyone touch ya, (Name),” he swore, caressing your cheeks sweetly with his clean hand. He loved you too much to lose you to someone else, he couldn’t let another man or woman take you from him like they did with his family. “I love you, (Name),” he said those words like they were a mantra, sacred words meant for you alone.

“I love you too, Si.”

Only for you, Si. It’s wrong but for you, anything.

#simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley smut #ghost x reader smut #simon ghost riley x you #mw2 smut #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #simon x reader #yandere ghost #yandere simon riley #yandere x reader #tw dubcon #tw: incest

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ihavemanyhusbands · 7 months ago

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Can we pretty pretty please get a blurb of coworker Will Graham x enemies to lovers reader on what he would do when he gets jealous in these trying times?

Thank you for your part in my brain rot 🫶🏻

~ 🔮

OOOOOOO JEALOUS WILL AAAAAAAA‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

(Also shifting gears a bit to lead them closer to the lovers aspect tee hee!!)

————

Given the secret nature of your… arrangement, it wasn’t often that Will sought you out on campus during work hours. But that didn’t mean you wouldn’t cross paths, sharing just the barest nod of acknowledgment.

Secretly, he liked those encounters, too. Simply seeing you would make his day better, reminding him that there were things to look forward to.

But that day, he had found you down in the small cafeteria, drinking coffee with someone he didn’t know. This immediately gave him pause.

He noticed how your eyes were soft and your laughter came easily. The openness of your body language denoted familiarity, and at some point, you reached forward to touch the man's arm.

This made jealousy rake over him like hot coals. He made himself walk away, his hands balled into tight fists.

He envied seeing you so relaxed around someone else. Obviously, he was aware that things between you had started out in a rocky place… and wasn’t entirely out of it yet, despite the not-so-surprising addition of physical closeness.

Jealousy didn’t make it any easier, either. It made him feel irrational, almost desperate. And he just had to do something about it.

Later, close to the end of the day, he was waiting for you outside of your small office. He pushed off the wall he’d been leaning on and fell into step beside you.

“Never thought of Quantico as a very romantic place for a date,” he said all too casually.

You frowned momentarily, but then it dawned on you.

“That wasn’t a date. Just an old colleague from my former job,” you said. “I don’t have issues with everyone I work with, you know?”

“Good. Keep it that way.”

You gasped. “Excuse m—”

He stopped in his tracks, taking hold of your arm so you would, too.

“You heard me,” he said, holding your gaze. “Why waste the energy?”

You blinked at him, the gears turning rapidly in your mind.

“Will, don’t tell me… are you jealous?” You couldn’t help but scoff, amused. “We’re not even together.”

“And yet you let me claim you. Various times, I should add,” he said, leaning closer as his voice dropped to a husky whisper. “And in many, many different ways.”

Your face was burning as you glanced around to make sure no one was nearby. Still, he could see that undeniable gleam in your eye that he had come to know.

He raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “Unless you need a reminder? I wouldn’t mind giving you one.”

Having been secretly craving him all day, you decided you wanted something new in return. It’d be a surprisingly big step for the two of you, but you felt bold enough to ask at that moment.

“Fine, but one condition: we do it at your place, not here. I’m sure there’ll be plenty more room than in your office, right?”

The look on his face told you he hadn’t been expecting that, but still he nodded.

“Oh yes, plenty for us to break in,” he said, letting go of your arm to shock you even further by slipping his hand into yours and squeezing your fingers. “Come on, then, let’s get out of here.”

——

#🔮 anon #will graham x reader #will graham fanfiction #hannibal fanfiction #minors dni

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trixy812 · 22 days ago

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002 - ONE SHOT ♪ I knew it!

♪ -- Content: Nanami x fem!Reader, a little bit angst, unrequited love, with happy ending, Reader!Sorcerer, fluff, with a friend like Gojo, who needs enemies?, Reader and Nanami are both red flags

♪ -- Synopsis: About how you tried to confess your feelings twice to Kento Nanami, and... it didn’t work?

♪ -- An: So, the notes on my first fanfic motivated me to write this one! Thank you very much! I have some more ideas that I am going to write right away. Please let me know what you think; this one is definitely longer and maybe a little bit rushed at the end.

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You were walking through the halls of the headquarters, lost in thought. Your mind kept returning to the same point: Kento Nanami. You knew that, no matter how much you tried to hide it, he meant something special to you. Since you met him, when you both were merely novices in the world of exorcisms, you felt an immediate physical attraction, and your affection for him began when you noticed his indifferent kindness.

You walked together toward the 7-Eleven, with Haibara talking excitedly about how amazing Gojo was, especially when he was next to Geto. You listened attentively, while Nanami, lost in thought, seemed absorbed as he gazed up at the sky. It was then that, almost imperceptibly, Nanami noticed a young man had dropped his bag of groceries. Without hesitation, he stopped and helped him pick everything up, showing a generosity you admired in silence. The young man thanked Nanami, but without acknowledging him, he continued walking beside you, leaving you with a feeling of warmth beyond words.

Your affection for him had grown over the years, but so had the pain of his quiet rejection. Why did he insist on keeping his distance? You were convinced that Nanami felt something for you, even though he kept reinforcing the wall he had built and didn’t seem eager to bring it down anytime soon.

Nanami was reserved, impenetrable, but there was something familiar in his presence, something you couldn’t ignore. Each time you tried to confess your feelings, Nanami found an excuse, a way to postpone the conversation with a simple, “Another day.” Yet, you were persistent. Even when he distanced himself, you kept trying.

That day, you found him in the common room, reviewing reports. You approached him with a smile, noticing how, as always, he looked at you with that mix of seriousness and restrained affection.

“Are you perfecting your reports again, Nanami?” you said in a playful tone as you sat across from him. Nanami looked up, his expression unchanging.

“There’s always something to do,” he replied, not very interested. You leaned forward a little, watching him closely.

“You know, I was thinking… Why do you always reject me?” you asked suddenly, without any preamble, though your voice was slightly shaky. You knew the question would make him uncomfortable, but you couldn’t hold back anymore. You wanted answers.

Nanami looked at you intently, setting the papers aside. You held his gaze bravely, even though you felt the familiar knot forming in your chest.

“Let’s talk about this another day, y/n,” he said with his calm, yet firm voice. That response you had heard before – in that moment, a mix of frustration and anger washed over you. It took all your willpower not to slap him and yell at him for being so foolish.

“Why not today?” you insisted, your voice breaking slightly. You took a breath and continued, “I know you feel something for me. I can see it; I can feel it. Why won’t you let me in?”

Nanami remained silent for a few seconds, and you felt tears wanting to spill, but you wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. He knew he was making you cry, and though that made you vulnerable, it also reminded him that, deep down, he wasn’t as immune to your feelings as he wanted you to believe.

“I’m afraid,” he finally said, with an honesty that surprised you both.

You blinked, surprised. Nanami, afraid? You never would have imagined it. Despite everything, you smiled – a small smile, full of understanding.

“Afraid of what?” you asked in a low voice. “Afraid of caring for someone else?”

Nanami averted his gaze. The common room was completely silent, and you felt the urge to move closer to him, to touch his hand, but you held back. You knew that would make him withdraw, and you didn’t want to lose this moment. He said nothing, but something in his expression changed. You saw it, you recognized it. He knew you were right, but he wasn’t ready to admit it.

Feeling the familiar sting in your eyes, you stood up before the tears could fall. You didn’t want Nanami to see you cry. You said goodbye with a calm smile, as you always did.

“See you tomorrow, Nanami,” you said in your usual cheerful tone. And before he could say anything, you turned and left the room.

Walking toward the garden, you sighed deeply. You stopped for a moment to think about what Nanami had said. Was he really afraid of caring too much? As much as his cautious rejections hurt, you weren’t going to give up. You knew Nanami better than he thought, and you were sure that, in time, he would understand, too.

You walked aimlessly, letting yourself be carried away by your thoughts as you remembered the two times you had gathered the courage to confess your feelings to Nanami (and how both times didn’t go as planned). You knew it wasn’t easy for him, but it hadn’t been easy for you either. Every time your confessions were interrupted, it hurt, but you couldn’t stop trying. It was as if your heart was begging you to keep fighting, even if reason told you to stop.

The first time you tried to confess was during a simple mission in a small town, far from the pressures and bustle of the city. Under a starry sky, without the barrier of your companions or the responsibilities of the headquarters, you thought it was the perfect moment.

“Kento,” you began softly as you both rested by the campfire, “I… there’s something I want to tell you.”

He looked at you, blinking with a serene expression. Just as you were about to confess, Nanami raised a hand.

“Tomorrow, when we’re not in the middle of a mission, alright?” he said with an unshakable calm, as if he hadn’t grasped the significance of what you were trying to say.

That night, you lay in your makeshift bed, frustration simmering in your chest. You kept telling yourself you’d try again.

The second attempt came months later, during a social gathering at the headquarters. This time, you were determined there would be no excuses. The celebratory atmosphere and a few glasses of wine encouraged you to be more direct. You found Nanami off to the side, watching the crowd with his typical serene expression. With courage, you approached him.

“Kento, I need to tell you something,” you began, your heart pounding. “This time, I don’t want you to interrupt me.”

He raised an eyebrow, letting a barely-there smile that could almost seem as teasing. But just as you were about to continue, Gojo appeared, draping his arm over your shoulders with exaggerated familiarity.

“Oh, Nanami! Looks like you’ve got an admirer!” Gojo said with a playful laugh. “Come on, y/n, why not get straight to the point? Everyone in the headquarters knows you’re crazy about him.”

You felt your cheeks burn as you shrugged off Gojo’s arm, while Nanami looked at him with his usual air of exasperation.

“Gojo, this conversation doesn’t concern you,” Nanami replied in a serious tone, though a slight tension in his gaze suggested he knew more than he was willing to admit.

Gojo shrugged and shot you both a last cheeky grin before walking away. But the moment had passed, and you sighed, pretending to laugh and deciding to postpone it again, even though you felt something inside of you twist.

Alone, in the comfort of your small apartment, you couldn’t get these memories out of your mind. You knew you loved him, and no matter how much it hurt, you couldn’t extinguish those feelings.

Nanami was in the headquarters library, studying some ancient texts on curses. Despite his apparent concentration, his mind was restless. Your words, your broken voice, echoed in his head repeatedly. “Why do you always reject me?” … The echo of your feelings, of your pain, tormented him more than he was willing to admit. He knew you had suffered those two times, and although he never intended to hurt you, it seemed he did.

The library door swung open, interrupting his thoughts. Gojo entered, as always, without a care for discretion, carrying his typical carefree air and a mischievous smile. Nanami sighed, knowing that whatever was coming, he wouldn’t like it.

“Nanami, old friend,” Gojo said as he plopped down in the chair in front of him. “I think we need to have a little chat.”

Nanami looked at him for a moment, waiting for Gojo to get straight to the point. He knew that when Gojo had that tone, it wasn’t to talk about missions.

“About what?” he asked dryly.

Gojo leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms behind his head as he smiled in that infuriating way Nanami always found exasperating.

“About y/n, of course,” Gojo replied naturally. “Are you really going to keep ignoring what’s happening?”

Nanami closed his eyes briefly, frustrated. He knew Gojo wouldn’t stop, but that didn’t mean he was ready for this conversation.

“It’s none of your business, Gojo,” he replied, trying to refocus on the book in front of him—or at least pretending to.

“That’s not entirely true,” Gojo continued, in a more serious tone, which wasn’t typical of him. “It’s no secret that y/n has feelings for you. And by ignoring those feelings, you’re affecting both of you. You can’t keep pretending that nothing’s happening.”

Nanami snapped the book shut, knowing he wouldn’t be able to avoid this conversation. He looked at Gojo, his expression hard but also tired.

“Gojo, it’s not that simple,” he said, not bothering to hide his frustration. “y/n is… incredible. I know that. She’s empathetic, strong, and her passion for everything she does is admirable. But I… I’m not what she needs.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow, clearly interested in the direction the conversation was taking.

“And how do you know what she needs?” he asked. “Because, from what I’ve seen, what she wants is you.”

“I don’t want to hurt her,” Nanami said in a low voice, almost to himself. “But I also can’t give her what she’s looking for. I’m not like her. I’m not an easy person to love.”

Gojo looked at him with curiosity, leaning forward slightly.

“Why do you think you’re not easy to love, Nanami?” he asked with surprising seriousness. “Because, frankly, y/n has shown you the opposite.”

Nanami remained silent, contemplating Gojo’s words. He knew you loved him, and that your feelings were real. But he also knew that his own fear of opening up, of letting go, held him back. You were everything he wasn’t: warm, emotional, able to see beauty in chaos, to love without reservations. He, on the other hand, had built a barrier around himself. He lived a rigid, calculated life, where emotions were controlled, and vulnerabilities couldn’t be afforded—or so he had always believed.

“What you’re doing now is just an excuse,” Gojo added, breaking into his thoughts. “Maybe the idea of someone loving you scares you, but what you’re doing now is cowardly, Nanami. y/n doesn’t deserve you playing with her feelings. You need to be honest, with yourself and with her.”

Nanami looked at him closely. Cowardly. That word struck him deeply. He had always been firm, confident in his decisions. But in this matter, perhaps Gojo was right. Perhaps he had been avoiding his own feelings, thinking he was protecting you, when in reality, he was just hurting you more.

“And what do you suggest I do, Gojo?” he finally asked, his voice filled with exhaustion.

Gojo shrugged, his usual nonchalant tone returning.

“Tell her the truth, Nanami. If you really don’t love her, then be clear and let her go. But if you feel something for her, even a little, stop hiding behind excuses. Talk to her. Because if you keep this up, you’ll lose her—even as a friend.”

Nanami remained silent as Gojo stood up, heading to the door with his usual carefree gait. Before leaving, he gave Nanami one last look.

“Not everyone finds someone who loves them like y/n loves you, Nanami. Don’t waste that chance.”

And with that, Gojo left, leaving Nanami alone with his thoughts and the heavy truth of his words.

Nanami had convinced himself you would try to confess again. He knew you felt something for him; you had shown it many times. And though he denied it to others—and often to himself—he felt the same. Each time you looked at him, with that mix of affection and hope, something within Nanami wavered. So, he decided to wait, believing that your third attempt at confessing would come soon. And when it did, he would finally tell you the truth: he wanted to give it a try with you.

Of course, Gojo didn’t miss the opportunity to notice what he was doing.

“You’re an idiot, Nanami,” he said bluntly, with his usual casual tone. “Are you seriously waiting for her to try confessing again? What kind of plan is that?”

At first, Nanami ignored him, as he usually did with Gojo’s provocations. But this time, his friend’s words lingered in his mind. Gojo was right; it was foolish to wait. If he felt something, why not tell you now? Why prolong the suffering for both of you?

The answer, however, wasn’t simple. Nanami couldn’t help but feel embarrassed as he recalled that night, years ago, when you were 19, and he was 23. A karaoke night and far too much alcohol. He remembered it vividly, though he tried to push it to the darkest corner of his memory. That night, he couldn’t resist. He spent most of it telling you how beautiful you were, how much he envied your personality, your humor, your warmth. You had both gotten too close, too drunk, and full of unresolved emotions.

That night, you kissed. And not only that—you spent the night together, wrapped in laughter, caresses, and a connection that neither of you had ever discussed since then. Nanami had tried to forget, to convince himself it was just the alcohol, the atmosphere. But he knew it wasn’t. You knew it, too. It was because of that night that you kept trying, because you knew he felt something.

However, you never tried to confess your love again. The days passed, and that declaration never came. Instead, you started seeing someone else. Mako, a civilian man, wealthy, who had impressed you with his charisma and lifestyle. Nanami tried not to think much about him, but every time he heard Mako’s name, a pang of jealousy ran through him. It was ridiculous, he knew, but he couldn’t help it.

Gojo, of course, didn’t let him live it down.

“Jealous, Nanami?” he teased every time Mako came up in conversation. “I told you; waiting wasn’t a good idea. Now you have competition, and he’s quite a catch. Rich, kind, civilian… nothing like a grumpy exorcist.”

Nanami would only look at him with a mixture of irritation and resignation. He was jealous, of course. But he wasn’t about to admit it. Instead of facing the situation directly, things between you and him began to change. You saw each other less in person, but you started talking a lot more over text messages. Something curious happened in those conversations: you began to flirt. Not in an obvious or blatant way, at least not at first, but there was a constant tension, a spark that ignited every time you talked.

Nanami, true to his stoic personality, kept his tone dry and direct, but you knew how to read between the lines. His flirting was subtle but loaded with intent, making it all the more impactful.

The flirting went on for weeks. Both of you knew what you were doing, but neither of you took the next step. Nanami was still tormented by his fears, and despite being with Mako, you couldn’t help but be drawn to your conversations with Nanami.

Until one night, everything changed.

You, Mako, Gojo, and Nanami went out with other friends for a karaoke night, just like when you were younger. The atmosphere was almost a replica of that time when you and Nanami had crossed that line you’d never talked about since. With a few drinks in you, you felt more relaxed and natural. You were singing, laughing, and having a great time, although Nanami couldn’t help but notice Mako constantly by your side, attentive, as if trying to claim his territory.

Nanami couldn’t stop thinking about that night years ago, about how he had been the one by your side, telling you how beautiful you were. His eyes followed you whenever you moved, and the weight of his jealousy and regrets was overwhelming.

Gojo, naturally, didn’t miss a chance to tease him.

“Bringing back memories, Nanami?” he asked in a low voice, nudging him. “Seems like history’s repeating itself.”

Nanami gritted his teeth. This time, though, he wasn’t going to sit idly by. He knew that if he didn’t do something soon, he’d lose you forever.

Nanami lingered in the corner of the karaoke room, watching you and Mako enjoy the night. The dim lighting, the laughter of friends, and the festive atmosphere surrounded him, but he couldn’t shake the growing feeling of discomfort. The memory of that karaoke night from years ago haunted him. You looked radiant, just as you had back then, but now your attention was on someone else.

Gojo, reveling in the opportunity to tease him, looked at him with a smug grin.

“What’s wrong, Nanami?” he asked, smiling in satisfaction. “Don’t like seeing her with someone else? You know it’s your fault, right?” he added, taking a sip of his drink. “Are you going to keep waiting, or are you finally going to do something?”

Nanami didn’t answer. His eyes were fixed on you, laughing as Mako attempted to sing a romantic ballad. Despite the smile on your face, Nanami noticed something—a small distance between you two, an invisible barrier that only he seemed to see. Even though you were with Mako, your gaze briefly drifted to him, and that fleeting moment filled him with both hope and despair.

He couldn’t take it any longer. The silence between you, the growing distance, and the unresolved tension were consuming him. Nanami had waited too long. Gojo was right—it was foolish to think everything would resolve on its own.

“I’m going outside,” he muttered to Gojo as he set his drink down and stood up.

Gojo raised an eyebrow, surprised by his friend’s sudden move.

“Going outside? Just like that?”

“I need some air,” Nanami replied, not stopping to explain further. He didn’t have a clear plan, but he knew he couldn’t stay there watching you slip away.

He left the venue, feeling the cool night air hit his face. He walked a few steps, trying to clear his mind. However, the memories kept flooding back. That time after karaoke, how everything had changed between the two of you. He remembered how you had laughed on the way to his apartment, how you had rested your head on his shoulder in the taxi, and how, in that moment, everything seemed to fall perfectly into place. The way he had looked at you and told you, without hesitation, how beautiful you were.

Nanami ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. He couldn’t stop thinking about you that night. Because that time, when you reached his apartment, there had been no doubts, no questions. It was just the two of you, wrapped in a connection that, though unspoken, had always been there.

Suddenly, the karaoke door opened behind him. He turned to see you. You were watching him with a mix of curiosity and concern.

“Are you okay?” you asked, walking toward him as the wind played with your loose hair. “You seem… distant.”

Nanami stayed silent for a moment, taking in the way the streetlight illuminated your face, making you look so soft, so vulnerable.

“I’m fine,” he said at last, but his tone betrayed him. He wasn’t fine, and you knew it.

You took a step closer, crossing your arms as you looked him straight in the eye.

“I don’t believe you,” you replied, your smile soft but full of concern. “What’s going on, Kento? You’ve been acting strange all night.”

He sighed. He couldn’t keep running from this conversation. He had waited too long, and that third attempt at a confession would never come. You had moved on. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t finally tell you how he felt.

“Do you remember that night, five years ago, after karaoke?” he asked suddenly.

You blinked, surprised by the shift in topic, but you nodded quickly.

“Of course I remember.” Your tone was careful, not sure where Nanami was going with this. He looked down, feeling a strange mix of embarrassment and nostalgia.

“That night…” he began, his voice lower than usual. “I said things I maybe shouldn’t have said, and I did things I… hadn’t planned on doing. But I can’t stop thinking about that night, y/n. It was the only time I was completely honest with you. And since then, I’ve been lying to myself.”

You looked at him, narrowing your eyes slightly, as if trying to decipher his words. He didn’t dare meet your gaze directly.

“I’ve been a coward,” he admitted, with a bitterness that burned his throat. “I ignored you, y/n. I kept acting like I didn’t care. And I did it because I was afraid. Afraid of what it would mean to feel something so… deep for someone like you.”

You didn’t speak for a moment, clearly taken aback by his confession. The silence between you lingered, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was a silence filled with everything left unsaid over the years.

“And now what?” you finally asked, your voice softer than usual. “Why are you telling me this now?”

Nanami took a deep breath. It was now or never.

“Because I don’t want to keep waiting for something to happen,” he said, finally lifting his gaze to meet yours. “I don’t want to see you with Mako or anyone else, because I know I still feel the same way about you. I’ve felt it since that night, and I can’t keep denying it.”

You looked back at him, your eyes searching his for some sign that this was real.

“You took too long, Kento,” you said, shaking your head. “But… I think I was waiting for you to tell me, too.”

Nanami couldn’t help but feel a weight lift from his shoulders. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he was doing the right thing. He couldn't believe it—a sense of relief mixed with excitement welled up inside him. But before he could say anything more, your expression shifted, and you looked away, almost hesitant.

"I'm sorry, Kento," you said, your voice trembling but resolute. "My commitment is with Mako now. I can't keep living in the past."

Your words hit Nanami like a punch to the gut. You looked at him with a mixture of sadness and firmness, and he struggled to process what you were saying. Nanami felt frustration and anger start to rise. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. You—the same person who had tried to confess your love twice—were now walking away from him as if those feelings had never existed. And the coldness of your rejection only intensified the anger he felt.

“You can’t be serious!” he shouted, unable to hold it back. “What the hell, y/n? Twice! Twice you tried to tell me how you feel about me, and now you’re saying it all means nothing?”

You looked at him, stunned by his outburst. You crossed your arms and took a deep breath, staying calm, but he could see the hurt in your eyes.

“Don’t talk to me like that, Kento,” you warned, your tone more serious than he’d ever heard. “You have no right. I gave you so many chances, and you chose to ignore them. You can’t just come to me now, after I’ve moved on, and demand that I come back to you. It doesn’t work like that.”

Nanami clenched his fists, unable to grasp how things had spiraled so out of control. But you didn’t give him more time to respond. You turned on your heel and walked back toward the bar. He watched as you went, his heart pounding, and just before you stepped back inside, he saw it: the kiss.

You went over to Mako, who welcomed you with a warm smile. Without a word, you took his face in your hands and kissed him with an intensity Nanami knew wasn’t genuine. That kiss wasn’t for Mako—it was for him. It was a direct blow to his ego, to his feelings. And it hurt more than he ever imagined. He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes, trying to calm himself. But the image of that kiss was seared into his mind, a painful reminder of what he had lost. Of what he had let slip through his fingers.

The days that followed were a silent agony. Nanami was not speaking to you, and although he saw you sometimes at the exorcists’ headquarters, your interactions were tense and filled with awkward silences. Even Gojo, who usually couldn’t resist teasing, had stopped with his jokes. Everyone could feel the tension between you.

A few days after the incident, you sought him out. Your demeanor was calmer, but he could see the discomfort in your eyes.

“Nanami, I’m sorry about what happened,” you said softly, avoiding his gaze. “I shouldn’t have kissed him like that in front of you. It was cruel, and I did it just to hurt you. It wasn’t right.”

Nanami looked at you in silence, his anger still palpable, but his tone was calmer than before.

“Why did you do it, then?” he asked, unable to hide the pain in his voice.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair.

“Because… I felt trapped. You ignored me so many times… and now that I’m with Mako, I don’t know. I wanted you to feel what I felt because of your indifference.” You spoke without much thought, saying whatever came to mind.

Nanami nodded, accepting your apology with a feeling of resignation. He knew things between you wouldn’t heal overnight, but at least he now understood a bit more of your pain.

Weeks later, you ended things with Mako. The news didn’t surprise Nanami, though he couldn’t deny feeling an unexpected sense of relief. Things between you two were still tense, but gradually, you began talking again. What started as casual exchanges soon turned into something more playful. The flirtation that had once only existed through messages resurfaced in public, more intense than ever.

You were bold, direct, and your comments often made others in the group blush. Even Gojo, usually so laid-back, seemed affected by the way you and Nanami exchanged subtle remarks.

One afternoon, when Nanami was finishing up some reports, he found a note on his desk. The paper was simple, unadorned, but he recognized your handwriting immediately. He opened it with curiosity and couldn’t help but smile at the words:

“I tried to confess twice. You tried once, so it’s still your turn. If you really want to be with me, I want to hear it. I don’t need some big romantic declaration. Just be you.”

Nanami stared at the note for several minutes, pondering what it meant. He knew this was important to you. The time had come for him to be honest, too. And although he wasn’t the type for grand romantic gestures, he would do this in his own way. Just like you’d written—he just had to be himself.

The confession came the following day, during a mission. You were fighting side by side, as you had so many times before, but this time there was something different in the air. When the battle ended, both of you panting from the effort, and as the cursed spirits dissolved, Nanami turned to you.

“y/n…” he said, without hesitation, “I love you. I always have.”

You froze for a second, your eyes widening with surprise. Then, a small smile formed on your lips. Nanami took your hand, pulling you close to him, and whispered in your ear, “It’s amazing how, since our first kiss, you’ve only grown more beautiful each day.” You couldn’t say anything more because Nanami, with his other hand, held your waist, pulling your body against his, and kissed you intensely as no one had ever kissed you before. He kissed you with so much passion, as if he were trying to apologize for all the pain his indifference had caused you. Tears of happiness began to stream down your face. As you parted from him, you felt nervous and excited at the same time, and you could only muster a weak joke.

“So, after all this time, it only took you five years to kiss me again?” you joked, and Nanami’s soft laughter filled the air.

“I’m sorry,” he said, with a mix of shyness and determination. “How about we don’t wait that long for the next one?”

51 notes · View notes

athanasius-symposium-of-writings · 8 months ago

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A Requested Birthday Gift

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY DARLING NOVELIST MY MAIN MY HEART MY -screaming- also i totally reference this fic lol

Rated Explicit | Warning: threesome, consensual use of drugs

“Hypnos,” You stop midway heading toward your room for a much-needed nap when the Novelist approaches you, “Do you have a moment?” Politely and gentlemanly he strolls over invading your personal space, his hand caressing your cheek giving you the physical affection you much needed. Post-match aches are annoying like it is how you imagine phantom pain is, it lingers and you often seek comfort or nap it away.

“Anytime for you.” Closing your eyes as you tilt your head to the side basking in his presence and touch.

“How easily you say such things,” Orpheus’ hand slips down your cheeks until his fingers dance upon your chin. Tracing your jawline, he moves much closer until his other hand holds your waist, body moving and guiding you, “I shall take you up on your word.”

Orpheus is smooth, well aware, and skilled in getting you to bend to his will, have you pressed against the wall in the hallway to the private guest bedrooms. Your hand goes to his chest grabbing his suit coat tugging him even closer as he kisses you. Sweet, reminding you he misses your presence, and then consuming as wants your attention completely on him.

“Orpheus.” Breathy as he switches from your lips to your neck, “We should go to– Oh!” His leg is between yours applying pressure to your crotch.

“In a moment, allow me to be adventurous, my little writer.”

You nod trying to keep your mind in the presence and not drift off giving into the sensations of his touch.

“I have a request for you,” He is careful not to remove clothes though it is tempting as he kisses your neck and under your chin, “A personal request.”

“A-anything.” Barely able to stay focused.

The Novelist smirks before holding your face to look directly at him, “It pertains to my– Our birthday, my love.”

You blink to regather yourself, “Oh? Do you want to change plans?”

“Of sorts, we would like your permission to try something new with you.”

Something new? You raise an eyebrow while biting your lip as Orpheus rubs your crotch against his thigh, it makes you nearly distracted, “Okay, ah, I am at your ah ah Orpheus!” Covering your mouth when you moaned far too loud.

“At my…?” Teasing you as he keeps going, “Grant us permission.”

“All that I am is yours to use as you wish.” Poetic and romantic, needy and wanting, he adores his little writer.

“I shall hold you to that.” Kissing your cheek as he removes himself from your person, “Find us in the library.” Whispering in your ear.

You shiver both aching and yearning, you wish he would finish what he started but you know the reward is at the end.

Especially when us mean both Nightmare and himself.

Orpheus leaves you after giving you a heated kiss, one that leaves you further flustered than what you are. When he leaves, you adjust your clothes to look decent before moving away from the wall to chase after him.

The door of one the room opens and you turn to see Luchino leaning against the door frame with a casual and clearly known smile.

“Seems you'll be having a bit of fun,” The older man says, it is a bit embarrassing to know he heard all that, “Orpheus restraining himself after such words spill out of his lover is commendable.” A clap before he moves to return to his room, “Good evening, Hypnos.”

God, you are lucky it was the Professor and misfortune it was the Professor who heard that.

The library is well secluded, rarely anyone but the Journalist or Novelist come here. You have a few times but again it is always empty. Yet, you still try to keep your voice down despite the library always being seemingly avoided.

You can wonder about that later, right now you are barely able to keep your mind from drifting to that pleasant numbing abyss brought to you by Orpheus.

Orpheui because there is more than one? That makes you giggle as Nightmare is rubbing his beak against your face, that rough two-tone voice saying your name followed by a chuckle when you try closing your held open legs.

“Such a lovely voice, my love.” Orpheus speaking from between your legs, he kneeling with his hand guiding Nightmare's unseemly large cock against your well prepared hole. “Let us see how long you can keep using it, hm?” The cock, of dark purple coloring with precum glowing purple, catches and enters your wet heat.

“Ah!” You have taken his cock before with plenty of prep, but God, it is always a deep stretch inside of you. Nightmare groans, his grip on your legs a bit firmer as he lowers you carefully.

“Beautiful, truly.” The Novelist made sure before doing this to have your explicit permission before attempting this. There is a drink he used on himself and a mutual acquaintance that he gave to you, a cocktail of an aphrodisiac based along with alcohol— He made sure it is extra sweet for you. It is both to help with handling Nightmare (who is enjoying himself watching you attempt to ride him), and to last longer— You are not very well trained yet in lasting more than a round with either of them.

“Easy, easy,” Nightmare speaks as he rests your legs on top of his open legs, “We have you.” His hands on your waist as Orpheus stands up to hold your upper body, your hands reaching out yearning to be touched again.

“Say what you need.” They both speak to you, your eyes struggling to focus on who is in front of you. When you open your mouth literal gibberish comes out with whiny moans. Your hands gripping and tugging on his open shirt begging, or trying to form words, for them to start using you.

With lack of awareness, you spill easily how badly you are enthralled by Orpheus— Both of them.

“Next time a lower dosage,” Touching your face, examining your dilated eyes, the way you cannot properly form words, and neediness behavior. “Oh, dear one, you are enjoying this quite well.”

His gift is you, you who has given him a new perspective. Orpheus loves you, they both do terribly so, the thought of him once more not having you will never be entertained.

“Orpheus!” The raven creature is not willing to wait for his counterpart to enjoy the sight.

“Good, you can say our name.” Praising you as he pets your hair affectionately, “However, I am going to need to use your mouth for my own pleasure, Hypnos.”

You nod but he doubts you actually know what you are agreeing with, he will only take as he usually does.

Using your mouth on Orpheus’ cock, Nightmare uses your inviting hole, delighting in their gift.

Even better is you stopped caring about how loud you are, all that matters is him him him.

#orpheus x you #idv orpheus x you #orpheus x reader #nightmare x reader #idv nightmare #nightmare x you #identity v x you #identity v x reader #identity v #idv reader insert #idv orpheus #idv novelist #idv x reader #reader insert

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catoslvt · 8 months ago

Text

Gally (TMR) x Reader

you were from Aris' maze, and the people who saved Gally saved you as well.

because Aris is like the male equivalent to Teresa, Gally is the male equivalent to you.

everyone sleeps in the same room in sleeping bags and stuff apart from people who may need checkups during the night (like Gally and you🥰)

Also there's still apples and shit cos idk

he has a nightmare about Chuck cos I'm sad.

I was meant to be sleeping over two hours ago, but I'm restless, my mind going over 100mph, I need to get up and walk about, try to tire myself out and maybe go get a drink.

I slowly stand up from my bed, trying to listen for footsteps, if the people who usually check on me during the night realise I'm wandering out of bed during the middle of the night without letting one of them know i'll probably be in a lot of trouble, but I need a drink so I really don't care.

As I slip out of my room/hospital room, I hear quiet cries coming from the door next to mine, Gallys room.

My heart stops for a split seconds, and I stop in my tracks, peeking my head into Gallys room. I realise he's sleeping, his eyes shut tight, and his face screwed up as though he's about to cry, and without second thought, I creep into his room, trying to keep my footsteps as light as possible.

I watch Gally for a few seconds before he starts mumbling, his voice breaking with every word and his sentences hardly making sense.

'Maze'

'Chuck'

'Stay'

"Gally." I say quietly, moving closer to his bed, but he remains asleep, his face tensing and twisting as the mumbling continues getting louder, I need to wake him up before Donnie or someone else comes to see what's wrong.

"Gally." I say, getting slightly louder, and as I touch his arm, His face stops twisting and making horrible expressions, and he mumbles one last word.

'Chuck'

"Gally." I say, my volume now getting increasingly close to my normal speaking volume, and I give him one last final shake, and his eyes slowly begin to open.

"What the fu -" He goes to say very loudly, and I press my finger to his lips.

"It's only me. Everyone's still asleep. You need to be quiet, I'm sorry for waking you up, but I think you were having a nightmare." I tell him and gally sits up and moves so his back is against the wall, and he pats the spot next to him for me to sit down beside him.

We've both been here for probably close to a year, we've both changed a lot since we first arrived both physically and mentally, adapting to life outside the maze where everything isn't given to us in a box and things aren't in perfect harmony, but we've made it work, we're close, which makes sense because in Gallys maze he was the male equivalent to me, or vice versa, I don't think it really matters though.

"It was just a stupid dream." He states, turning away from me.

"About Chuck?" I ask even though I already know the answer.

"Yeah, It felt so real, like I was back there killing him all over again." He sighs, and I gently grab his arm.

"But it wasn't you. You didn't do it. You had been stung by a griever, and it wasn't even him you were trying to kill." I remind him, trying my best to comfort him.

"Do you get dreams about Rachel?" Gally asks as he turns to look at me, his eyes instantly falling on mine, and I feel myself blushing slightly.

"Yeah, but they're just dreams, I've come to terms with the fact I'm not at fault for her death. WICKD is." I answer and he just nods before shrugging.

"Wanna go a walk? I'm hungry." Gally then asks as he turns to look at me, and I quickly stand up nodding rapidly.

"I'm so thirsty, that's why I got out of bed to get a drink, but then I heard you mumbling, so i came to make sure everything was alright." I tell him, and he lets out a joking 'mhm'

"Are you sure you didn't just want to watch me sleep?" He teases as he stands up and stretches before walking over to the doorway of the room, which hasn't had a door in god knows how long.

"In your dreams." I scoff as I follow him.

"Unfortunately, my dreams aren't that good." He continues as he leads the way to the places makeshift kitchen, my breathing stopping when we walk past one of the enterances to the sleeping room.

Once we reach the kitchen, I instantly find a bottle of water, Ripping the cap off and chugging half of the bottle as Gally finds two apples, keeping one in his hand and stuffing the other in his pocket.

"Can we go to our car?" I ask and Gally smiles widely with a nod.

our car is one one of the old banged up cars our group keeps in one of their garages. It's a good hiding spot because all the windows are blacked out, and somehow, every door is still intact.

"We can't stay for too long. Everyone will be waking up in a few hours, and god knows when someone will wake up to check on us." He says as he grabs my hand and leads the way.

"Do you think the car still works?" I ask as we climb in the back of the car we have claimed as our own private hang out spot.

"I'm not sure, wouldn't be much help to us anyway." Gally answers as he begins eating the first apple, offering me the second but I shake my head no.

"Well, we could always just drive away, maybe make our way back to the mazes, see if the grievers are gone, and if they are, then we could just live happily in the maze." I say, being completely sarcastic and Gally just laughs.

"You always have to find the positives in everything, don't you?" He asks with a smile and I shrug.

"I guess that's one of our biggest differences, eh?" He continues with a gentle shove to my side.

"I like that you're almost always negative." I tell him as i turn to face him, and he just smiles.

"and I like that you're almost always positive." He states, and I feel myself turning red as I look away and smile.

"We've known each other for like a year, and im closer to you than I was with any of the girls in my maze, and I was with them for like three years." I tell Gally as I slowly turn to look at him again, and as I'm speaking, I could've sworn I saw his eyes drop to my lips for a few seconds.

"I hated everyone in my Glade, so it's not hard to be closer to you than I was them." He remarks, and I scoff and look away.

"No, I didn't mean it like that -" Gally quickly says, and I try to hide my smile by looking hurt.

"No y/n, I didn't mean it like that." Gally says as he gently grabs my face and makes me look at him, and his eyes fall to my lips again, and before I even had time to register what I was doing, my lips were on his.

"Shit." I gasp as I pull away from Gally, instantly pushing myself against the door on my side, trying to get away from him but also still wanting to be in the same space as him.

"Why did you pull away?" Gally asks, pulling me away from the door and almost pulling me onto his lap as his lips meet mine in a gentle but quick paced kiss.

It seems like we spend hours in the car kissing, but it probably wasn't even half an hour before we're clambering out of the car, trying not to laugh.

"I really hope we haven't had checks." Gally whispers to me as we begin walking back to our rooms.

"I don't even care if we did, I'm too happy to care." I tell him as I stare up at him, now standing at the thin strip of wall between our rooms.

"I'll see you at breakfast?" He asks looking down at me.

"Save me a seat." I say with a smile, and he leans down and kisses me to the lips before pulling away and walking into his room, and I do the same walking into my room with the largest smile on my face.

#fanfic #romance #fiction #writing #wattpad #gally tmr x reader #gally tmr #tmr gally #gally x reader #gally maze runner #gally #x reader #the maze runner #maze runner

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