#short reader hc’s

[saetoshis]

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ ON DUTY | kaiju no. 8 headcanons

⋆୨୧˚ WITH: ichikawa reno ; hoshina soshiro ; gen narumi

⋆୨୧˚ SUMMARY: where and how they like to fuck you on-base!

⋆୨୧˚ MATURE CONTENT WARNINGS:

fem reader, exhibitionism, suit play [?], oral f. receiving, creampie, pet names [baby, pretty girl], MDNI.

⋆୨୧˚ ICHIKAWA RENO

one thing about reno is his ability to be sly when he needs to. thinking outside the box, considering enemy moves one step ahead - he can truly be sneaky. that might be why he so easily came up with a plan to sneak out after lights-out just to meet up with you. he found an empty office, making sure patrols or cameras were nowhere to be found.

"shh, little quieter, okay?" reno mutters under his breath as he presses his palm over your mouth gently, his other hand having two fingers buried inside your needy pussy. you're so close together, having only a cramped space to do this; your legs wrap around his waist as you sit on the desk, chest pressed up against his. "just moan into my hand, yeah, like that."

"h-hard to be quiet when you're- mm- going so hard," you whimper out airily into his hand, your head reeling back when he fucks his fingers into you a certain way. your thighs shudder around him, and you can feel his cock growing harder each second he's pressed up against you. your arms wrap around his neck, fingers flitting through his hair erratically.

"gonna put it in now, 'kay?" reno pants out in need as he replaces his fingers with his cock, sliding in languidly and savoring each and every desperate enclosure of your cunt around him. he moans out a small 'fuck' when he starts to rut his hips, letting them merge into a quick rhythm that has you clinging onto him and whimpering against his big shoulder. "f-fuck, baby... feels so good. want you to cum on my dick, yeah."

the two of you are so lost in ecstasy that you don't realize the rhythmic bump of the desk against the wall, desperately attempting to muffle each other's moans and mews as you get closer and closer. with a heavy final rut and a shuddered moan out loud, you both are sent reeling in pleasure as you make a mess of each other. reno tries to catch his breath, coming to with a small gasp, "fuck, do you think anybody heard? i should find a better place next time..."

⋆୨୧˚ HOSHINA SOSHIRO

hoshina isn't one for breaking the rules necessarily, or even one to slack off while on the clock - but tonight was different. it was unbelievably late, the whole third division command center was essentially empty, and all kaiju within a ten mile radius were silent on the radar. maybe he could get away with it...

he doesn't even bother slipping out of his anti-kaiju suit before he's lifting you onto the control panel counter, lips pressing messy, open-mouthed kisses along the crook of your neck. all he can think about is how dirty it feels to fuck you where anybody could walk in at any moment. "wanna try somethin' new i've been thinkin' about."

"huh?" you query between heavy panted breaths, slipping your thighs further apart on either side of his hips to accommodate him. you both watch closely as his fingers slowly remove your suit, wandering your waist, then your hips, then your panties. all hoshina mutters along the shell of your ear is a rasped, "i'll show you what."

you finally start to put two and two together when he unzips his own tight-fitted suit, yet keeps it on his body as he presses the head of his cock against the wet spot on your panties. he languidly slips the fabric to the side, letting out a low grunt as he presses his forehead against yours when he ruts forwards. "fuck- wanna see how much you can take with the suit on. you can handle it, can't ya?"

you nod eagerly, already letting out little whines in time with each heavy rock of his hips. it already feels more intense than usual, and he hasn't even put much force into it. you shudder when he picks up the pace, his muscles tautening each time he ruts harder in succession. it's when his hands grip at your thighs and he fucks a bit rougher that you're whimpering out behind your hand in an attempt to stay quiet. "shh- that's it, take it. think you can lemme work up to 50% tonight?"

⋆୨୧˚ GEN NARUMI

narumi doesn't have a problem playing it a little risky, especially when it comes to work. he'd rather laze around as long as possible before he has to get suited up - but backwardly, he also has no problem taking his time fucking you on a time crunch, either.

"narumi, aren't you supposed to start patrol in like, 5 minutes?" you pant out between strained whimpers, trying so hard not to get sucked into his explorative touches and tantalizing kisses. you hold back a shudder when his hand drags up your shirt, circling your nipple and watching it eagerly harden under his fingers. "can't be doing this right now..."

"don't care," he sneers and flashes you an obstinate, yet enigmatic look in his eyes as he slips your shirt upwards. he has you lay on your back as he dips his head down your chest, leaving flicks of his tongue and panted kisses on your tits. it's when his fingers start rubbing between your thighs that you start to cave, feeling a pressure building in your body. narumi looks back up at you, a mischievous glint in his gaze. "wan' you to cum all over my face before i leave. not gonna suit up 'til you do, pretty girl."

"that's so irresponsible-" you start, cut off by a shivered gasp when he slips your shorts and panties off and buries his face between your legs. his tongue swipes along your clit as his fingers dig into the plushness of your hips, little groans leaving his mouth as he tastes and tastes until he's satisfied. knowing him, it'll take a while before he is. "p-please, narumi, they're gonna yell at you."

"don't care. think they're gonna fire me? their strongest captain? nahh," narumi sneers before returning his tongue back to your clit, sucking and rolling his tongue against it over and over again. he knows you're close, he knows how your body works. it's when he uses his fingers to curl against that spot in your walls that he's moaning out, 'cum for me, cum for me, yeah', and watching you shudder as you release all the pent-up stress from your week. a voice sounds over his receiver, barking orders for him to hurry to command center. he sighs, "i know, i know. i'm on the way now."

he turns off the mic again, his little grin coming back to his face. "see? got it done in five minutes, didn't i? better wait for when i get back, yeah? not done with you just yet."

2024 SAETOSHIS. do not copy/repost.

[sukunasbow]

don’t know if ur still doing requests for arcane but viktor and/or jayce receiving head 4 the first time,, - 🪼

giving viktor head for the first time ; mdni

his head tilts back and his lips part as your tongue swirls around the tip of his dick, mixing a glob of your saliva with his precum. viktor inhales sharply when your lips wrap around his dick, “darling.” he huffs. you look up at him with wide eyes and start slowly bobbing your head up and down, your tongue running along every vein of his cock. the brunette looks down at you with a lustful look in his eyes, the two of you maintaining eye contact as you suck him off. “mmph, feels so good..” he practically whimpers. viktor’s fingers lace through your hair for support while you hollow your cheeks even more, taking him all the way to the back of your throat. he shuts his eyes, worried he’ll cum too quickly if he continues looking at the sight of your plump lips and teary eyes. when you realize he’s already near the edge, you slowly start increasing the pace of your mouth, viktor pulling on your hair in response. “mm so close..” he moans out. instinctively, he bucks his hips towards you for more pleasure, desperate for more. moments later, after a few bobs of your head and his cock hitting the back of your throat, he’s releasing spurts of warm cum inside your mouth while repeating your name. he glances down at you and you can almost make out the sight of tears glistening in his eyes as his chest heaves, still dealing with the aftershocks of his orgasm. “thank you for that.” he breathes out, attempting to collect himself. “now, let me take care of you, please?”

[sweetlywriting]

Steb relationship headcanons!

A/N-I can’t be the only one who’s favorite character is a random fish with only one speaking line 🧍🏽‍♀️+ sfw as always + gn reader

Despite being a man of few words, once you get to know him, he’s quite expressive

His gills twitch when he’s annoyed, ears perk when interested, and face turns little red whenever you’re around(the other enforcers never let him live it down)

He’s super attentive and has a knack for detail, you’ll casually be mentioning you wanted to try some pastry from a new cafe in passing and oddly enough your next date is there?

While not talkative he’s certainly never absent, especially physically

He’ll tuck your hair back, have his hand on the small of your back, is quick to offer you food if he’s eating, will gently move you around so he’s closer to the road part of the sidewalk, and always stands a little closer to you even on duty as an enforcer

He’s a stickler for plans and anniversaries, he never misses a date and makes sure to make time for you

As the war begins to dawn I can definitely see his collected demeanor begin to fade, and he’ll probably ask you evacuate in hopes that you’ll be safer

If you chose to stay with him he won’t stop you, but he’s not very happy about it

When it’s all over he’s just glad you’re both safe <3

[omi-boshi]

"you gotta let me go, lovebug." kiyoomi rumbles, attempting to gently wiggle out of your baby's grasp. the lovebug in question only gurgles, happy to have her father's attention on her. it quirks a smile on kiyoomi's face. his amusement is short-lived, however, when the grip on his finger seemingly tightens in response and tightens even more when he wiggles just a tad harder.

his rising panic amuses you to no end.

at the sound of your quiet giggles, kiyoomi tears his gaze away the baby cradled in your arms to look you in the eye.

"a little help would be nice, you know?" he frowns. "our food's gonna be here any minute."

"i would love to but there's nothing i can really do when she's clinging like that, kiyo." you send him the most sympathetic smile you could muster with the laughter still bubbling up your throat. "you know how she gets."

and kiyoomi does—he really does. your daughter got it from you, after all.

[mercillery]

ASL BROTHERS WITH A SHY S/O

WARNINGS: GENDER NOT SPECIFIED + NOT PROOFREAD

CHARACTERS: Luffy + Ace + Sabo

NOTES: Do Luffy haters exist? It’s a dumb question, yes—but I’m genuinely curious. He’s so cute and dumb, I find it hard to not love him.

LUFFY

Luffy wouldn’t really “get” shyness in the conventional sense. But here’s the thing about Luffy: he’s all about accepting people as they are, no questions asked. He treats you with the same bright-eyed, wide-grinned enthusiasm he shows everyone. The idea of you needing to be more outgoing wouldn’t even cross his mind because, to him, you’re already perfect as you are. Shyness? Never heard of it. Just pass the meat, please.

Now, Luffy’s approach to social interactions is, well, 100% Luffy. He doesn’t really adapt his wild and carefree style to match anyone else’s comfort levels. If you're quiet and reserved, that’s cool—Luffy just goes on living life at full volume like it’s another Tuesday on the Sunny.

At first, you might be left wondering how in the seven seas you’re going to survive the endless hurricane of chaos that follows this rubbery captain around. But soon, and without realizing it, you start to find that his reckless antics and headfirst approach to life are... kind of charming. Sure, it’s like living next door to a tornado, but it’s a tornado that makes you laugh until your sides hurt and never lets you get too deep into your own thoughts.

What’s funny is that while he doesn’t actively try to make you feel more comfortable, he ends up doing it anyway. It’s his Luffy magic. You find yourself smiling more often, your shyness loosening its grip bit by bit as he does dumb stuff and throws himself into trouble that only Luffy would consider fun.

He’ll walk up to you, grin stretching from ear to ear, holding out some bizarre, questionably edible snack and say, “You gotta try this!” And just like that, the nerves you felt melt away—not because he’s making an effort to make you feel at ease, but simply because he’s himself.

And sure, sometimes his energy is a lot. We’re talking sprinting-across-decks, yelling-about-meat kind of “a lot.” But in the middle of all that noise, you come to realize that you feel safer and more at ease when you’re around him. Why? Because Luffy has this way of making everything fun and natural, and soon enough, that includes you too.

Before long, your shyness isn’t something you worry about around him; it’s just another thing Luffy accepts without blinking, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. And in his eyes? It is.

It’s cute because you two really are like the sun and the moon, with Luffy as the blazing, never-stopping sun, and you being the more reserved, quiet moon. It’s like a cosmic duo—he’s all light and energy, and you’re the calm, cool reflection of it all. You balance each other out in the weirdest, most wonderful way.

And when people catch wind of the fact that Luffy is dating someone—let alone someone as shy as you—it’s like watching a cartoon character’s eyes bug out of their head. Yeah, they’re not wrong to be surprised, but Luffy doesn’t care. He’s already busy thinking about what’s next on the agenda, probably involving meat or some kind of treasure hunt.

Luffy is anything but shy. He could probably talk to a rock and think it’s the best conversation he’s had all day. So when it comes to affection, he’s not exactly one to shy away from it. He might not be the clingiest partner out there—he’s not going to be hanging off you like a koala (okay, maybe sometimes)—but you can bet he’s there, always.

Whether it’s randomly giving you a hug in or tossing his arm around your shoulder like it’s no big deal, he’s just Luffy—and that means showing affection wherever and whenever he feels like it, no matter who’s watching. Basically, he’s like a “here’s my arm, it’s yours now” kind of guy.

While Luffy doesn’t exactly get what makes you shy, he’s surprisingly good at picking up on your feelings. If you’re feeling anxious, or if you’re shrinking back into your shell a little bit, Luffy has this unbelievable ability to sense when you need a change of pace. Without even thinking about it, he’ll grab your hand and drag you off on some wild adventure, just to get your mind off things.

He doesn’t even need a reason—he just knows that you could use a distraction, and he’s the perfect person to provide it. Besides, that just gives him more time to spend with you! And, of course, he might offer you one of his beloved snacks or a full meal if you’re feeling off. Seriously, do you know how big that is? Luffy parting with his food is like a miracle in itself, so if he’s offering it to you, you better believe you’re special.

And let’s talk about the food thing for a sec. Do you even realize how big of a deal it is that Luffy shares his food with you? Like, do you know how many times he’s turned down offering a bite of his meat to anyone? Probably never. So when he hands you a piece of his prized food, you know it’s a huge honor. We’re talking sacred territory here.

If you ever doubted your place in Luffy’s heart, just remember: he shares his food with you. That’s a level of trust and affection that not even the grandest feast can outdo. Trust me, you’ve got a special place in his world, and it’s right next to the meat and maybe a little bit of the chaos.

Luffy’s naturally the type of guy who’d include you in absolutely everything—because why wouldn’t he? To him, you’re part of the crew, part of his world, and that means he’s going to drag you into every single bit of it.

You’d be minding your own business, maybe sitting quietly with your book or trying to sneak in a nap, when suddenly—BAM! Luffy's in front of you, grinning like a madman, already talking about the next big adventure or game that everyone’s playing. “C’mon, join us!” he’d say, and before you could protest, he’s already tossing you into the mix.

It’s not that he’s forcing you to join, though—Luffy just has this way of making you feel like you should be there, without ever putting you on the spot. His carefree, inclusive attitude makes it feel like the natural thing to do. You never feel pressure; you just feel... valued. Like you belong, whether you’re quietly cheering from the sidelines or joining in with your own brand of awkward enthusiasm.

It’s like Luffy’s energy is so contagious that you can’t help but want to be part of whatever insane thing he’s cooking up that day, even if it’s just watching him eat his weight in food and making random, nonsensical decisions.

If anyone ever crossed the line with you—teased you, made you uncomfortable, or said something that got under your skin—Luffy would flip the script faster than you can blink. That goofy, carefree grin would disappear in an instant, replaced by a rare, uncharacteristically serious expression.

Suddenly, he’s standing right in front of you like a human shield, ready to take down anyone who dared upset you. He’s usually a chaotic force of nature, but mess with his loved ones, and that’s when you see a side of him that is all about protecting you.

He wouldn’t hesitate to confront the person, his voice firm and unwavering. “Hey! That’s not cool! You don’t mess with my crew!” He’s not one for subtlety or second-guessing, so you’d know right away that Luffy’s on your side. If someone’s being rude or making you feel small, he’ll make sure they know they’ve messed with the wrongggggg person.

The crew’s used to this by now—because Luffy, despite his childish nature, would go to the ends of the earth to defend the people he cares about. You’d feel like the most important person in the world in that moment because, in his eyes, you are.

Luffy’s loyalty is on another level entirely. Once he’s decided he cares about someone, they’re in—no questions, no conditions, just pure, unfiltered loyalty. If you’re lucky enough to be someone Luffy loves, you’d know it in every grin, in every spontaneous gesture, and in every single, joyfully shouted “Let’s go!” You’d never have to second-guess where you stand with him, because Luffy’s affections are as clear as day, as honest and unwavering as the sea he dreams of conquering.

So whether you’re officially part of his crew or not, in his mind, you’re always one of them, and he’d tell anyone who’ll listen, “Yeah, they’re with me!” with a pride that’d make your heart swell.

The best part? Luffy would constantly invite you to tag along on whatever wild journey or ridiculous stunt he’s about to pull. There’d be no hesitation; it’d be, “Hey! Let’s go on an adventure!” as if going on an impromptu quest was as simple as taking a stroll to the market. It’s almost like Luffy has this unspoken rule: every exciting, crazy, fun thing has to be experienced with you.

From treasure hunts that end up in unexpected fights with sea kings to races through bustling ports (where he definitely has no idea where he’s running but is laughing the whole time), Luffy wants you there, right in the middle of it all. You’d probably sigh at the thought of jumping headfirst into another unpredictable situation, but Luffy’s enthusiasm is like a gravitational pull—it’s impossible to resist.

And thank goodness for that, because your timid self wouldn’t stand a chance at taking the lead in any of these wild endeavors. Luckily, Luffy’s the type to charge forward, dragging you along by the hand with zero doubts and zero plans. He makes all the decisions for both of you, which, sure, sometimes means ending up lost on an island full of very angry, very large monkeys because, “They looked friendly!”

You’d feel a mix of exasperation and endearment at his antics. He doesn’t realize it, but his willingness to be the fearless leader—even if his plans are sometimes made with the strategic prowess of a rubber chicken—takes the pressure off you. You don’t have to stress over decisions or worry about whether you’re doing the right thing, because Luffy’s already ten steps ahead (probably literally sprinting) and dragging you along with a confidence that borders on reckless.

And honestly? That’s part of the charm. His “plans” might be half-baked and a little foolish, but he makes up for it by being completely and unapologetically himself.

You’d find yourself smiling more than you ever expected, getting swept up in the whirlwind that is Luffy, and realizing that being with him means never feeling alone, even if you’re quiet or shy.

His laughter, his outbursts, and his impulsive decisions would all become things you cherish, because with him leading the way, life feels a little less scary and a lot more exciting.

ACE

Ace is all warmth and energy, like a bonfire on a chilly night, and he’d go out of his way to make sure you feel comfortable in his presence. Despite his natural tendency for excitement and spontaneity, he’d be mindful of your shyness, making a conscious effort to dial down the volume when needed.

You’d catch him lowering his voice a bit, softening his laughter, or even sitting a little closer with a reassuring grin. His laid-back nature would do wonders for your anxiety, melting it away bit by bit like ice under the sun. He’d take a more casual, playful approach when he’s with you, balancing his liveliness with a kind of gentle attentiveness that makes your heart feel at ease.

Ace has a knack for starting conversations, even if the topic is completely random. He’d sense your hesitance and jump in without skipping a beat. “Did I ever tell you about the time I tried to cook for the crew and accidentally set a whole forest on fire?” he’d start, eyes twinkling as he watches your reaction.

His stories are always ridiculous—stories of clumsy mishaps, epic pranks gone wrong, or that one time he fell asleep mid-battle. You’d find yourself laughing in spite of yourself, the tension in your shoulders easing as you realize he’s making himself the butt of the joke, just to make you feel more at ease. He’d keep talking until he sees that spark of amusement in your eyes, and then keep going, his smile growing wider every time you giggle.

And Ace’s teasing? Oh, he’d be a master of that fine line between making you laugh and making you blush. He’d lean in, smirking just enough to be charming, and say, “What’s this? A smile? I knew it was in there somewhere.” His playful comments would come with a wink and a laugh, just enough to make your face warm, but never enough to make you feel like you’re being put on the spot.

If he ever saw you growing quiet or noticed that hint of panic in your eyes, he’d immediately back off, switching to a softer tone and throwing in a quick “I’m just messing with ya” followed by that disarming grin of his.

Ace would be incredibly in tune with your reactions, watching for the tiniest signs that you’re feeling overwhelmed. The moment he picks up on it, he’d change gears—maybe suggesting a quiet spot on deck where you could sit together and watch the stars, or offering to take a walk to get some fresh air. He’d brush off the seriousness with a light, “Hey, it’s just us. No pressure, alright?” The way he says it makes you feel safe, like it’s just you and him against the world, no expectations or worries allowed.

Ace is the definition of a warm hug in human form, so being a tactile person comes naturally to him. But when it comes to you, he’d show an impressive amount of restraint—not an easy feat for someone who’d usually throw an arm around a friend without thinking twice. Well, you’re not just his friend but his lover, obviously—but what I’m getting at us that he’s a pretty affectionate guy.

He’d start small, easing you into it with light touches: a friendly pat on the shoulder when you share a joke, a playful ruffle of your hair that would leave you smiling and maybe a little flustered. You’d catch the subtle glances he’d shoot you afterward, as if he’s silently checking, Was that okay? Did that make you uncomfortable? It’s endearing how he’s so in tune with your comfort level, his natural affection turned into a gentle dance of patience and care.

As time went on and your confidence around him grew, Ace would start to introduce more meaningful touches. He’d sneak in side hugs when you’re sitting together, leaning into you with that easygoing smile of his that made your heart race. And when the day finally came that you leaned into him on your own, whether it was out of exhaustion or just because you felt safe, the soft, proud look on his face would be priceless.

Ace would make a big deal out of it in the quietest way possible, his hand finding yours in a reassuring squeeze as if to say, Hey, look at you, being brave. Eventually, he’d graduate to full-on snuggling when you were comfortable, and the first time he wrapped you in his arms and pulled you close, you’d know just how deeply he cared.

And when social situations become too much—because let’s face it, Ace has a lot of friends and a magnetic personality that draws people in—he’d be the first to notice if you’re starting to feel overwhelmed.

In those moments, he’d spring into action without making it obvious. He’d tell a ridiculously over-the-top story, one that would steal the spotlight from everyone else and have the whole room’s attention fixed on him, leaving you a moment to breathe.

Ace would always throw himself into being the distraction, whether it meant cracking jokes or reenacting a failed stunt that ended with him pretending to trip over his own feet. He’d shoot you a quick wink in the middle of it, as if to say, See? I’ve got you.

It’s not that he wanted to be the center of attention—okay, maybe a little, but only when it’s for you.

He’d take on the role of court jester, chaos-maker, or even reluctant hero if it meant taking the pressure off you for a while. If anyone questioned it, he’d brush it off with a laugh and a shrug, all while keeping an eye on you to make sure you were okay.

And if things really got too much, Ace wouldn’t hesitate to steer you away from the noise altogether, leaning in close and saying, “Let’s get outta here for a bit, yeah?” He’d lead you somewhere quieter, a hand on your arm or fingers interlaced with yours, the simple touch grounding you as you walked.

You’d both end up somewhere peaceful, maybe under the stars or by a flickering campfire, where he’d wrap an arm around your shoulder and say, “You don’t have to explain. Just take your time.” And you would, with the steady thump of his heartbeat right next to yours, knowing he’d take on the world just to make sure you felt comfortable and safe.

Ace would be your number one cheerleader, hyped beyond belief over every little victory you achieved. You managed to say something in a group conversation? He’d beam at you like you just solved world peace. “Look at you go! You’re amazing!” he’d shout, probably a bit louder than necessary, with that signature grin that lights up his entire face.

If you reached out to touch his arm or, heaven forbid, initiated a hug, there’d be a solid five minutes of him staring at you in delighted disbelief before breaking out into an excited, “Did you just—? You did! You did!”

What you might not notice is that whenever you step even half a toe out of your comfort zone, Ace is in the background punching the air with all the subtlety of an over-caffeinated kid at a birthday party.

It doesn’t matter if it’s a tiny thing, like making eye contact with someone new, or a big step like saying a few words in front of the crew—Ace is celebrating it like you just discovered the One Piece itself.

He might look a bit unhinged to anyone passing by, but he’s never cared about that. You’re his person, and your wins are his wins. He’s just out here being the proudest guy alive, punching invisible foes and mouthing, That’s my partner!

And the way he looks at you? It’s like you’re the most priceless treasure in the world, and not just in the fleeting, pirate-wants-your-gold way. No, Ace’s gaze is full of warmth and genuine awe, the kind that makes you feel like you’re wrapped in a blanket of sunshine.

When you speak, whether it’s a confident statement or a hesitant mumble, Ace is all ears. His eyes would fix on you with this almost comically serious expression, nodding along like you’re revealing some ancient, life-altering secret.

You could point to the sky and say, “That’s the sky,” and he’d respond with a deep, earnest nod and a wide grin, “Exactly! I love that you noticed!” The rest of the crew might shake their heads and mutter things like, “Here they go again,” but Ace doesn’t care. If it matters to you, it matters to him—simple as that.

It doesn’t matter how mundane your observation is or how shyly you say it; to Ace, every word is golden. He’d hang on every syllable as if you were weaving a tale worthy of a bard’s song. You’d catch him repeating things you said back to you later, just to show he’d remembered, saying things like, “Oh yeah, like you said the other day, the sky really was a perfect blue.”

It’s almost ridiculous, but that’s Ace—he’d make you feel like every tiny thing you did was extraordinary, because in his eyes, it truly is.

SABO

Sabo is the calm breeze compared to the whirlwinds that are Luffy and Ace, which makes him the perfect blend of approachable and comforting.

With his natural ease and warm, diplomatic demeanor, you’d find yourself feeling more at peace around him sooner than you’d expect. Sabo’s the kind of person who could have a conversation with anyone, but when he’s with you, you’d feel like you’re the only one in the world that matters.

He’s just got this knack for making everything feel safe, like he’s a sturdy anchor in a storm. If you ever started to feel overwhelmed, Sabo would be the first to notice, with a quiet attentiveness that doesn’t scream I’m watching you but more like I’m here if you need me.

He’d be a master of subtlety, paying close attention to what made you nervous and what helped you open up, all without making it seem like he was analyzing you. You’d catch him making mental notes when you shifted uncomfortably or lit up at something specific. He’s probably like, “Write that down, write that down!” in his head.

And he’d use those observations to make your interactions more comfortable. If he noticed that certain topics or big crowds made you anxious, he’d steer conversations towards lighter things or find a reason to take a quiet walk somewhere less crowded.

Sabo would never rush you into sharing more than you were ready for. He understands that trust is built slowly, like adding logs to a fire, not dumping gasoline on it and hoping for the best.

Sabo would show his affection in the most considerate ways, taking into account what you’d find comforting rather than overwhelming. That being said, grand and dramatic gestures aren’t his style when it comes to you; he’d save those for his other acts of rebellion.

With you, he’d stick to smaller, more intimate actions. He’d brush his fingers across yours before holding your hand, always making sure it was welcome. He’d lean in a little closer when you’re talking, eyes fixed on you with that soft, attentive gaze of his that makes you feel like you have all the time in the world.

There’d be moments when he’d reach out with a light touch on your arm, or just the simple press of his shoulder against yours when you sat side by side, enough to let you know he was there but never too much to make you uncomfortable.

It’s like he has a sixth sense for what was just the right amount of closeness. And if you ever looked unsure or nervous, Sabo’s eyes would catch yours, full of warmth and encouragement, like he was silently saying, Take your time, I’m not going anywhere.

The patience he’d show would be unmatched; you could almost hear him mentally cheering you on even if you were just picking your words slowly or taking a deep breath before saying something important.

And the way he’d support you? Subtle but powerful. If you ever found yourself second-guessing or fumbling, he’d quietly step in to help redirect the conversation or offer a reassuring comment. “I think that’s a great point,” he’d say with genuine enthusiasm, giving you that extra boost of confidence.

And when you’d catch him watching you speak, the look in his eyes would always be one of admiration—never judgment, never pressure, just pure, patient support. And whether it’s a simple chat or a quiet walk together, Sabo’s presence would be your reminder that you’re valued, seen, and cherished, just as you are.

When it came to conversations, Sabo would be your guy for deep, meaningful talks, but with a healthy dose of humor to keep things light. He’d pick the coziest, quietest corner on the ship or at a café, leaning in with a thoughtful smile and saying, “Alright, you ready to hear some top-secret stories about Ace and Luffy’s greatest flops?” And he’d be off, recounting tales of Luffy trying to eat something he really, really shouldn’t have or Ace’s legendary nap times that ended in near-disaster.

His stories are designed not just to make you laugh, but to remind you that even these larger-than-life brothers were and still are total dorks sometimes. And before you know it, you’re easing into sharing a few of your own stories, prompted by his gentle encouragement and the safety his presence provided.

If there was ever a moment where you hinted at wanting to join in on an activity or step outside your comfort zone, Sabo would light up like someone just told him there was free cake on deck. But instead of jumping up and down and looking crazy, Sabo’s celebration would be the dignified, internal kind.

Picture a boardroom in his mind filled with 10 tiny Sabos all jumping out of their chairs, high-fiving each other, and throwing confetti in the air. On the outside, he’d just offer you that calm, reassuring grin and a simple, “You’ve got this. And if not, we’ll laugh about it later, yeah?”

He’d be your biggest silent cheerleader, always ready with a patient hand to guide you or a subtle nudge if you needed it. If you wanted to join in on a game or join a conversation but hesitated, Sabo would seamlessly include you, making it feel natural and not like he was pointing out your shyness.

He’d say things like, “Hey, I think Y/N would be perfect for this—what do you think?” and then shoot you a wink that says, See? Not so bad, right? And when you took that first step, whether it was a comment or a hesitant laugh at a joke, Sabo’s inner cheering squad would be losing their collective minds.

So while Ace might be punching the air and Luffy would probably shout, “You did it!” at full volume, Sabo would play it cool—at least on the outside. But don’t be fooled. The minute he see’s you trying something new or making a move outside your comfort zone, those 10 tiny Sabos in his head would be throwing a full-on carnival, complete with fireworks and dancing.

And he’d just keep giving you that look that said, You’re amazing, and I’m so proud of you. Because to him, you’re always worth celebrating, no matter what.

If there’s one thing Sabo doesn’t tolerate, it’s someone messing with the people he cares about. So if he spotted you feeling uncomfortable or noticed someone trying to be intimidating, he’d swoop in with the subtlety of a master diplomat. Sabo wouldn’t make a scene, but instead, he’d redirect the situation like an absolute pro.

Maybe he’d throw out a well-timed joke, ask a question that shifts the focus, or suddenly develop an urgent need for your opinion on something random, like, “Hey, didn’t you say you know a lot about… apples?” The offender would be left blinking, and you’d find yourself in a new conversation before you even realized what happened. Crisis averted, all thanks to Sabo’s suave social maneuvering.

And then there’s Sabo’s sweeter side—his covert operation of affection. He knows that grand, dramatic proclamations can sometimes make you want to dive head-first into the nearest bush, so he’s perfected the art of subtle, heartfelt gestures.

He’d leave little handwritten notes tucked in places he knows you’ll find, maybe in your favorite book or slipped under your plate at breakfast. Each note would be filled with the kind of genuine, thoughtful words that would make your heart do an embarrassing little flip. They’d say things like, I know you’re stronger than you think, and I can’t wait for the world to see it, too, or The stars were beautiful last night, but not as much as seeing you smile today.

And don’t even get started on the letters. Oh, the letters. Sabo would write you these intricate, beautifully crafted notes that read like they came straight from the heart of a poet who’s just returned from a victorious battle.

He could have just finished a day of intense Revolutionary Army missions, covered in dust and exhaustion, but you’d still get a note that starts with, Hey, you. I’m thinking about you, and ends with some metaphor about how your presence makes the world brighter, even when he’s knee-deep in chaos.

You’d find trinkets, too—maybe a small charm he found that reminded him of you or a pressed flower from somewhere he thought was pretty. It’s the little things that would make your day and remind you that, no matter what chaos he’s wrapped up in with the Revolutionary Army, you’re always on his mind. And when you’d look up at him, cheeks flushed from finding yet another one of his notes or small gifts, Sabo would just grin that charming, lopsided grin and say, “Did you find it? Good. I meant every word.”

He’s protective, thoughtful, and romantic in a way that feels like it’s tailored just for you. And even if he’s balancing the weight of revolutions and strategic plans, Sabo makes sure you know that you’re not just part of his life—you’re the best part.

[ariiadnes]

ㅤ╭ ⿻ ･ of ghosts & coincidences

-ˋ ♡ ◞ simon riley. call of duty. a family fic with simon riley ? real and not delusional at all

simon riley doesn't like public spaces-- too crowded, yet somehow too open all the same. unpredictable. it leaves you too vulnerable, leaves you dead center in the hands of danger. how deeply it keeps him on edge, jaw clenched, gaze hardened towards everyone except you. never you.

he's used to staying by your side, soldier turned shadow-- silent. observing. always looking for a means of escape in a moment's notice, should the need ever arise.

has he learned to lower his guard over the years? no, not in the slightest sense. quite the opposite, he thinks, and he'll admit it in a heartbeat.

things have changed. more to take care of, more to protect. now, you've got a little one-- she's the spitting image of him, as difficult as that is for him to comprehend at times. she's very much entirely the opposite of him in terms of personality : shy, reserved in every sense. he doesn't quite get it, doesn't quite feel like he knows how to be a dad, but time after time these past two years, you've always told him otherwise.

he can't help but dwell-- it's only for a second, but the thought is disrupted by a weak squeeze of his hand. he looks down, greeted by curious eyes that look so damn similar to his, and instinctively, his gaze softens. he reciprocates the gesture-- a silent comfort to his daughter as she crinkles her nose in response, a timid smile on her face.

yes, things have changed. him, his protectiveness. his kindness.

ー the only thing that hasn't changed? his distaste for shopping trips, as mundane as they may be at times. but mundane is good; mundane is safe-- although he wouldn't describe this particular trip as such. not necessarily, and for a few good reasons :

one : you've gone entirely off course with the shopping list. he has no idea how you've all been here for an hour when the list had three items ( you also grabbed those items within the first ten minutes of arrival, by the way ). so while he's not really sure what you're buying, he's also very much okay with staying in his lane and not questioning it.

two : it's... july, isn't it? he stares blankly at the shelves before him.

it is july. there are halloween items on display. he shouldn't care much about it, and he doesn't, not at all, until--

three : until the little kiddo lets go of his hand, eyes wide and absolutely mesmerized at the sight of the outrageously out-of-season decor. her gaze shifts as she looks up at him, bottom lip jutting out the tiniest little bit.

christ. he can see it from a mile away-- that subtle hint of puppy eyes that she seemed to inherit from you ( and was purposely taught by johnny. damn bastard ).

"...go on." he tells her, and so she gingerly explores the aisle, never daring to stray too far from either of you, though you're only a few feet away at the most.

you stand side by side, watching her diligently inspect each item on the shelves. it's sudden-- the way she halts in her steps, that soft gasp just barely heard before her little hands reach for something. you can't quite make out what it is, nor have you seen her move that quickly before-- not even when she rushes into your bedroom during a loud thunderstorm. she clutches onto it for dear life, hugging it tightly to her chest before she runs back to you and simon.

"look!" she beams brightly, proudly holding up...a toy?

okay. cool. you tilt your head slightly. a white blob...shape. thing. whatever. okay. but then she actually turns it around, and ah-- it has a face.

oh. a ghost. a cute, little ghost plushie.

dead silence.

you purse your lips tightly, desperately trying to force back a smile ( and failing ) as you look down at your shoes, suddenly immensely interested in them. you clear your throat, albeit a little dramatically before making eye contact with him, and though anyone else would see a lack of emotion in those eyes, you can see both resignation and confusion in them. it's a moment of silent communication between you two with many, many unspoken questions.

because you have never referred to him as 'ghost', nor have either of you talked about his military service in front of her before. for the sake of everyone's safety, that's a conversation for later down the road. the less she knows, the better.

ー so he doesn't know if this is some strange coincidence or not, because how the hell does his two year old daughter with no prior history of liking anything even remotely related to halloween suddenly get attached to a ghost plush? either way, he's got a headache now.

you focus on your daughter, amusement still very much on your visage.

"whatcha got there, baby?"

you're not sure what answer to expect. you're not sure what to expect at all from this situation, truthfully. her brows furrow as she puts deep consideration into her answer.

"...ghostie."

you almost wonder if this is a fever dream. if this was a television show, you would imagine they'd put crickets chirping in the background. you can feel simon's soul shrivel up and wither away.

"...fucking hell." he mumbles, and you can't help but laugh, gently ruffling her hair.

( yes, you do take ghostie home. no, simon doesn't understand the attachment. and yes, maybe he does take a little bit of pride in knowing that somehow, she was instinctively drawn to something that represents her dad. even if it is a... cute ghost plushie.

he'll make do, he supposes. he'll make do. )

[san8ny]

WHEN YOU FANTASIZE, AM I YOUR FANTASY?

!: sfw, a bit of morally grey! Ellie, infidelity.

?: Ellie can’t seem to leave Jesse’s girlfriend alone..

Ellie is not a bad person, she swears she isn’t.

“You have a nice lip shape..” you murmur absentmindedly, smudging out the lipgloss on the sides of Ellie’s ajar mouth with your thumb, eyes looking anywhere but directly up at where you hover over her. This feels sweetly intimate, she thinks, palms directly on your sides as she steadies you on her lap, pretty much since you need a comfortable position to apply products onto her face; The room is warm, rainfall falling lightly on the windowsill rhythmically as the dim lampshade casts a golden hue on your face.

Her eyes finally fall on you and she hopes you don’t notice the slight dilation in her ivy orbs, her affection for you running rampant while Jesse’s game echos where he lounges in the living room a few rooms away from where you two currenly sat in her bedroom— on her bed.

She liked you, you had spunk that none of Jesse’s previous girlfriends had; more importantly, you actually acknowledged her existence living with him, rather than seeing her as a nuisance or a 3rd wheel, always making her feel involved when you two would just chat it up.

Guilt gnawed at her heartstrings whenever you’d go out of your way to be polite to her, often times shushing Jesse when he’d interrupt whatever she had to say, your undivided attention on her as you closely listened to her, even scooting closer.

She practically went to bed with you on her mind; and god, was her appetite and both jealousy maxed out on the nights you would sleep over, perversely having her ear up against the door while you and Jesse fooled around, closing her eyes and imagining it was her around your arms and not her longtime friend.

When her fingers slowly trail up to your baby blue, lacy bralette, you’re pulling away slightly, making small distance,

“Ellie, we’ve talked about this—

“You don’t even like him like that.” She immediately retorts, croak in her throat expanding when you don’t allow her to get anymore closer than she already is. She looks nothing short of pathetic right now and she knows it— you know it.

“Just one kiss..” She attempts to negotiate, eyes pooling with desperation, “I can’t move on fast, you know this..”

She’s down-bad to the point she doesn’t even see the corner she’s put herself in; even if you were to potentially take up her offer and put an end to whatever was left of your relationship with Jesse, you’d still have to actively see him everyday. Lost in your thoughts, Ellie’s burying her head in your lap while you mindlessly run digits in her hair, massaging her tender scalp like you did all those nights you two spent together as you form a conclusion.

“and what about him?” You whisper, humoring the idea, but she doesn’t respond, eyes trained on the shadow moving underneath her door and additionally, way too comfortable in the warmth you held to give a response. She eventually mumbles something but it falls incoherent before she completely goes non-verbal, just focusing on the massaging of your honeyed fingertips.

It was a sickly sight, to say the least, and Jesse would agree.

He stands near the wall adjacent of Ellie’s bedroom door, heart racing as it all dawns on him why she’d been so fond of you and not the others. What he’d just witnessed through the small crack of her door has just completed changed everything, and yet explained it all at once.

A small part of him doesn’t blame Ellie, as he’d fallen for your charms too but, why specifically you? Why not the countless other girls she’s passed up under the guise of ‘not being for a relationship?’

His throat dries up as he, himself, comes to a bridge,

Was she truly not ready for a girlfriend, or was she just getting ready for his?

He stands defeated as he watches the one girl he’s ever liked have more of a connection with his bestfriend than he ever did with her; to add more salt to the wound, he finally notices,

she’s aware of his presence.

She doesn’t acknowledge it, simply letting you pet her like a docile pet while her relatively warm gaze burns into him, a telltale sign she’s trying to get the message across that she’s won whatever this was.

For sure, Ellie Williams was a bad person.

[stsgluver]

synopsis. gojo is a very light sleeper.

wc. 550

gojo thinks he’s lucky if he sleeps more than four hours a night. between missions, teaching, and the torment of being enough for everyone but the people who really needed him (geto, haibara...), there is never a chance for him to be at peace.

you haven't moved for the better part of twenty minutes now. for quite possibly the first time in your relationship, you were awake before him. you attributed it to the toll the most recent mission had taken on his body - he'd been gone four days overseas and, from the sporadic messages you received at all times of the day and night, you were almost positive he barely squeezed in a ten-minute nap.

your bodies were perfectly intertwined - his arms were tightly around your middle as yours were around his shoulders, and your legs overlapped one another's as you were desperate to be close. it didn't matter the season, nor the temperature, gojo would rather sacrifice the duvet than be any more than a hair's width away from you.

his face was pressed against your chest and you could feel each little snore he let out (the moment was so rare you found the action to be endearing more so than anything and decided you wouldn't tease him for it later). his silvery white hair was sprawled out messily and there was a small bump at the back from where his blindfold had constantly been pushing the hair up. your fingers dared to brush against the top of his neck, grazing the undercut that he complained he needed to get cut.

"look," gojo whined, pointing to the back of his head, "it's too long." it was barely an inch in length and you had bitten your tongue not to make a less-than-appropriate joke. he found it uncomfortable to wear the blindfold with longer hair and glasses weren't really an option in case they fell off during a fight or got broken. another perk of dating the world's strongest sorcerer is that more often than not he enlisted your help in trimming his undercut (y'know given his infinity and mild paranoia that he'd never admit to).

however, you were unable to get a chance before this mission in particular so now you had the chance to curl your fingers between each of the short, soft tufts. you only halted your movements when you felt him shift against you, trying to bury his face impossibly further into your chest.

after constantly having to be alert for so many years, gojo was a very light sleeper.

"don't stop," he mumbled, his voice raspy and muffled. his fingers tightened their clutch around the back of your (his) shirt and you didn't know you could love anyone as much as you do him.

you felt a pang of guilt and wished you'd resisted touching your boyfriend a little more. "sorry toru."

"don't 'pologise," gojo shook his head slightly, words slurred and riddled with sleep.

surprisingly, he drifted off again. it only took several more minutes of playing with his hair to hear those little snores again.

gojo never gets more than four hours of sleep at night but that was before you. now he's with you and maybe, just maybe, his nightmarish past that tormented him can be subdued by dreams of a future with you.

[prone-to-fleeting-obsessions]

Dating Sunday hc's

(I haven't had the time to play 2.2, so some of this might conflict—)

In the eyes of the people of Penacony you're the perfect couple, the shining example of two souls kindled in Xipe's all accepting glory

Your background doesn't matter, not really...

Sure, it's expected of him to take on a darling lover of equal status, perhaps some prime shining star in another branch of the all encompassing family

But all are accepted in the family's benevolent glory, right?

He loves you like you're equals, like you're his perfect soulmate, his one true darling love...

Public appearances are necessary of course, his ever present smile and perfectly kept appearance as he effortlessly drapes an arm around your waist, as if you were simply another part of his perfect persona, his missing puzzle piece

In private he's much more doting, sickeningly so

His chaste little public pecks don't hold a candle to the almost sloppy breathy kisses he gives in private, with his wings fluttering as he stares up at you, as if you were an extension of Xipe themself

His arms wrapped so tight around you that it's almost needy, as if he can't force himself to detach

God he needs you, needs you like air, like life itself...

That's made abundantly clear as he doesn't dare detach from your sweet lips, your perfect skin against his

"Perfect..." He'd mumbled over and over, as if he really believed it

Of course his wings are sensitive

If you touch them in public you might earn a little glare, his pretty eyes narrowing slightly at your attempt to get him to drop that lovely little act of his

In private it's fair game, though

He might, if the mood is right, guide your hands there himself, silently begging you to comfort him after such a horribly stressful day

Your sweet touch is a craving nothing else can satisfy

Preening his wings is also something he just might let you do, after you've gotten comfortable with each other

Your sweet fingers brushing through his feathers, he can only close his eyes in bliss, trying hard to stay perfectly still

He's a control freak, that much is obvious, but he's far from mean, far from unfair...

Of course he'll pick out your outfits daily, they just have to match his, and of course you'll need to be by his side as much as physically possible...

Once his mind is made up, it's quite hard to sway, but it's all in your best interest, as his darling love...

He'll make it up to you with flowers so fresh you'd swear they're still growing, with the most delicious food in all of Penacony, and especially with enough love to drown in, privately of course

But it's hard to stay mad when he's so keen on keeping you his, on laying his claim as your perfect match

[junicult]

note ; it’s freezing in my apartment and i need a furnace. preferably 6’+ with brown hair and a mustache but i’m not picky.

it gets cold in your grandpa’s old, worn-down cabin during the wintertime. despite robin’s proposition to insulate it better, the icy breeze during a harsh snowstorm still manages to seep between the cracks.

harvey doesn’t mind, though. yeah, every time he pulls off the comforter he feels his bones rattling. yeah, he has to wear his thickest sweater and pajama pants under the several layers of blankets. yeah, his skin feels a quite dry when he scrunches his nose in the morning.

but it’s all worth it because he gets to fall asleep with you clinging onto him.

you, who cannot stand being touched when you’re asleep. you’ll indulge him in cuddling for the first few minutes in bed, until you decide you’re tired enough to then push him away and burrow off to your side of the mattress for the rest of the night.

harvey’s simply a furnace under the covers. it feels like there’s heat radiating off of him at all times—and you can’t bare to feel hot in order to fall asleep.

however during this time of year, you need to feel at least some warmth to sleep restfully. especially after spending all day feet deep in snow.

no matter the layers you’ve got on, you’re curling up right against him underneath the comforter, burying yourself into the crook of his neck.

“hold me…tighter!” you clatter your teeth in his ear, sliding your icy fingers beneath his sweater for an added layer.

and he loves all of it. your muffled threats of crawling under his clothes only give him sanction. he squeezes you tight, he has always fallen asleep better when he gets to hold something, preferably you.

you squish into the slot under his arm, the subte mist of your soap filling his senses. your cold hands rest on his warm torso. he stays impossibly still to prevent you from changing your mind until he hears those light, breathy snores, then he can drift off with a giddy smile knowing you fell asleep in his arms.

[horror-beeings-artandwriting]

Sprout x reader headcanons? Like, imagine being on a run with him and he keeps trying to make you take the bandaid even though you’ve been on full health for the last few floors and he just has one heart.

Sprout please just take it

I can do that! Funnily enough I’m a sprout main most of the time.

Prompt: headcanons(romantic)

Characters: Sprout

Pronouns: GN reader

Sprout has always been way to overprotective, about his friends, about You, I mean you the most since yk. Partner. He always try’s to get you to take the meds even if you’re full up on them and at 3 hearts. Then if you won’t take them he’ll make someone else take them!!! You have to literally BEG. This man’s to take a health item. Boy could be distracting on 1 heart, verge of passing out and would still make sure you took a band if you got hit once. He can’t loose you… He lost so many others. Astro.. Cosmo… Pebs.. Shelly… He can’t loose the one he loves most… He can’t loose you. So, he’ll make sure to heal you. To give you all the meds you need. But when you explain to him that, him not taking care of himself, or letting himself get hurt, hurts you…he gives in; and starts taking bands once in a while… You still have to beg him to pick one up if you’re on 2 hp, and have no meds. But he starts being a LITTLE more selfish and takes them. He calls it selfish at least. He always reminds himself, every time he takes a band, or a med… He’s alive for you. And he can’t die. Because you need him.

Hope this is okay!!! Sorry it took so long D:

[slashersdaddy]

Hey! I hope You are doing Well! Can I Request a Fluff? Slasher x S/O Calling Them "Sweetface" (I was watching the seed of Chucky the other day and it got me wondering). Can i have Jason, Michael, Thomas Hewitt and Brahms? Gender is up to you!

(Sorry if my Writing is a bit Messy, English is not my First Language)

Have A Great Day! :D

Slashers respond to S/O calling them sweetface!

Fluff!

Jason Voorhees

When you first called him sweetface, it was in his cabin, while you both were resting by the fire, he had been sharpening his machete, and froze up.

His shoulders tightened and he looked down at you, tensed like a snake ready to strike.

Though he would never do such a thing.

Finally after a long silence which stretched out around you both, the only noise your soft breathing and the crackling of the fire, he tilted his head.

It was as just about clear a response as you could get out of the mute killer, 'What?'

So when you giggled and spoke again "I said, come here sweetface!" He slowly scooted closer, before quick as can be, he scooped you up into his arms, pulling you into his lap, and burying his face in your shoulder.

He didn't understand why his heart raced so much, or really why you would call a monster like him such a loving nickname, but he couldn't say he minded. The feeling of warmth blooming in his long dead chest made every moment worth it.

Micheal Myers

You had been sitting with Micheal in the living room of the old Myers house, watching some shitty horror film on the old TV set when you glanced up at him, a smile forming on your face before you leaned on him

"I love you, Sweetface"

Were the words that escaped your lips, a soft smile playing on your face as you gazed up at him. You had been with Micheal for a couple of years now, and every moment felt like a dream to you.

Micheal froze, tensing slightly as he gazed down at you through the mask he always wore, his ice blue eyes peircing into your own eyes.

But slowly, almost hesitantly, he relaxed, draping an arm around you, his fingers massaging your scalp in a shockingly gentle manner for one known for his brutality.

You should call him sweetface more often

Thomas Hewitt

You had been sitting with Thomas in the barn, one hot Texas summers day. Thomas was working nearby, focused on the work that needed finished before sundown. When you broke his focus, just a simple phrase

"Tommy, Sweetface, why don't you take a break? You've been working all day!"

He paused his movements, slowly turning and striding over to where he towered over you, looking down at you, head slightly cocked to the side as he waited for you to repeat yourself.

So you did, smiling up at him and repreating the wordsthat had shaken him out of his work filled stupor

"tommy Sweetface, you should take a break, you've been working since sun up"

You said, gently, for fear of his reaction.

But much to your surprise, he simply nodded, reaching one arm out and wrapping it around your waist, tossing you over his shoulder and making his way to the porch.

That's where he sat, settling you onto his leg while his hands began to slowly rub your back, seemingly an apology for having you out in the hot sun all day.

You could get used to this

Brahms Heelshire

You had just finished preparing dinner and setting the table, noticing the distinct lack of Brahms, who usually had already come down drawn by the scent of food you called up

"Sweetface! Dinners ready!"

Then came the familiar sounds of Brahms making his way downstairs, albeit faster than usual.

But instead of sitting at the table he walked up to you, his hands finding your cheeks and lifting your face to look at him, head tilted to the side as he speaks, low and measured

"what?"

It's clear what he is asking about, you had called him sweetface, so with a smile you reach up, ruffling his hair

"I said, Sweetface, dinners ready"

He paused, either shocked by you repeating it, or by the confirmation that you did infact call him sweetface before he leaned down, wrapping you in a tight hug, burying his face in your neck and muttering

"good"

[jhuzen]

do you have any thirst hcs for grandpapi neuvi? if you do pls share i’m so hungry 🤲

hydro dragonussy [m.reader]

hello hello, guess who’s back to writing again? this is a warmup because i struggled hard in continuing my kaveh request wip and a buncha scenarios for sick reader w genshin men and jing yuan all at once. on second thought… i think i really shouldn’t have written everything all at once. not to mention i’m trying out quotev to publish my yandere oc/m.reader stuff for fun. + yes that is the title. it’s either that or crybaby old man dragon thirsts. you pick.

𖦹 nsfw, neuvi is a virgin old man, underlying mentions of reader being an attorney (we all know i have a bias for them anyway, have you seen my workload series? lmao), switch male reader, switch neuvi, though we’re heavily leaning on bottom neuvi for this one, honorable mentions of cockwarming and thigh fucking, brief mention of double penetration (reader receiving), gentle and rough sex, implied dacryphilia (you), breeding, fontaine rains whether or not he’s sad, his tears are the rain and i will drink them like a hungry eremite in the sumeru desert.

Let’s face it, Neuvillette has no time outside of his work as the Iudex of Fontaine, he’s constantly buried underneath those paperworks, and on top of that, when he’s not tackling mountains of cases, he’s out in the opera, presiding trial after trial when the Oratrice can already do the same thing for him.

So when you appeared in his life all of a sudden, he was new to all sorts of things. In his long life as a dragon, he has had little experience in what you can offer to him. He’s awkward for the first few moments of your relationship.

It’s the same to sex — you’d have to take initiative in every single little thing, show him the ropes like the good commander you are, and he obeys with no complaints. He sees that you enjoy it, and if you’re good at it and you’re willing to teach him, he is an obedient patient.

Old man’s heads are very clumsy at first, teeth scraping against your length while he slowly but surely bobbed his head. He’s slow, but he treats your little guy with so much care. Looking up at you with tears pricking at the ends of his eyes as he tried to please you as best as he could. Obligatory weather report — it’s a light drizzle in Fontaine.

But when you give him head, Neuvillette squirms, it doesn’t matter where he is, he could not keep himself still. It’s always obvious that even you cannot bring yourself to blow him semi-public in his office, just because you’re afraid a poor innocent little Melusine would come inside and see their beloved leader squirming around traumatize them. It would also be bad for his image if you guys get caught, so… sexy times are inside the comfort of his possibly huge home as much as possible.

Sex with him is slow and intimate, very romantic. What did you expect? He’s from Fontaine and they apparently love to romanticize things. Whether or not who’s on top when you guys are doing it, they are a lot more languid in style, like a moment of relaxation between the two of you.

A switch, though preferably a bottom. Yes, that’s right, old man Neuvillette likes to be serviced. He likes it when you’re the one filling him up so good. It’s hot and heavy, just the way he likes it.

He’s a tired man, so he’s definitely a pillow prince— no, a pillow king. He lays there and takes it like a good boy, only gazing at you with those soft eyes, hazy with love and lust while you continued to push into him. He takes your hand in his every time you enter him and he always squeezes your hand tight the deeper you go in.

Call him romantic and a basic man, but he lives for missionary. He wants to see you while he feels you stuff him full of your cock. He only writhes in the beginning while he tries to adjust around you, squeezing you tight inside him while his breath stutters, trying to take you in all at once.

If he’s the one in charge, it’s all the same, he’s gentle with his actions, though, honestly, he’d rather have you ride him instead. He likes to see you in all your glory, with you rolling your hips in such a needy manner while he kept you grounded, holding onto you as he caressed your thighs. It’s perfect for him.

Oh yeah, and this goes without saying — he’s a dragon, so he has two cocks. Fitting him in is a sport on its own, but you graduated with a major in fucking dragons, so you’re good. He’s a bit thicker on the side too, so each time you take him in, you could feel every inch of him, and every throb of his cocks is a heaven sent feeling that courses through your insides.

Please be gentle with him, he is an old tired man who hasn’t had a break. He is so vanilla that it’s boring but his cries are worth it.

He’s a very quiet man too, his moans are shy and light, a gasp here and there and a tiny whimper with every increment of speed adding into your thrusts.

Neuvillette is definitely the type to squirm and get away from you at first, but you just need to keep him still and hold him down by his thighs before you plow into him. He likes it though when you do it, it reassures him that you want to do this with him and that you’re not letting him go no matter what happens.

Another weather report: a good light rain. Not too heavy.

Now that all the sweet stuff is out of the way, rough sex is not as often as the usual vanilla one, but it’s not completely an uninvited guest between you two.

If you fucked him rough and hard, Neuvillette will cry and break. His poor pristine and unmarked body, filled to the brim with your greedy bite marks and hickeys, glowing red and bruising dark purple that leaves him embarrassed when they’re still around if you somehow managed to weasel in a rough session in the morning before he goes to work and you will be reprimanded for it once he’s home, no exceptions.

“No more of these obvious markings,” he’d say with a stern tone, only to end up face down on the pillow with his ass up while you found a loophole and devoured his entire back instead.

He hates that he can’t see you when you go rough on him, because it’s normally him ending up with his face buried into his pillow while he laid on his stomach, his hips being held up by you while you ruthlessly pounded into him without even an ounce of mercy.

He hates it, but at the same time, it does help with keeping his noise down because when you’re doing him so roughly, Neuvillette wails, he cries hard, with those pretty tears of his not letting up. He’d scream to the high heavens and were it not for the fact that your hand was forcing his head down into his soft pillow, the entirety of Fontaine would hear it.

Again, Neuvillette is a tired old man, so something so rough definitely leaves him drained, you’d constantly have to hold him up halfway through your little session.

Fucking him while he’s on his side and his one leg hooked over your shoulder is a great compromise, with how you can both still see each other Neuvillette can immediately turn his head to hide away into his pillow when he realizes he’s being a little too loud on his own good.

He’s definitely the kind to force himself to be quiet. If you fuck him without anything for him to bite into to hide his loud noises, he will cry and be embarrassed through out, barely even managing to cover his own mouth with his hand without an ounce of struggle while his body jerked up and down, following through every harsh punctuated thrust that you made into him. Weather report: Fontaine has a storm.

Neuvillette cries his heart out every time you go rough, full on sobbing and it is such a turn on. The way he makes garbled noises while he would protest into your roughness, hand gently pushing into yours while he asks for you to be gentler and go a little slower, only to cling helplessly into his pillow when his pleas fell into deaf ears.

His tears are just… divine. He cries so prettily and he does it with unwitting grace and class — somehow, he’s just innately beautiful in every thing that he does. There is no such thing as an unsightly sobbing to this man.

Neuvillette makes this soft noise in between a whimper and a gasp every time you hit his prostate spot on and he just shudders in delight, his breath shaky until he can barely think straight.

Gentle or rough, he’s definitely into breeding. Neuvillette has a breeding kink and anyone who thinks otherwise will sink deeper than Khaenri’ah. Stuff him full of your cum and he’s a happy and satisfied man.

It’s not just the feeling of your hot seed pumping him full that pleases him, but being around the Melusines, treating them like his children despite them being just his subordinates has definitely gotten this old man all too paternal. He likes the premise of being able to build a family with you, and he will nurture your children with all his being.

Thigh fucking? Thigh fucking. Though it’s rare, only when he’s really tired but still aches to please you, and even you’re too lazy to move a lot.

Bother him when he takes work at home by making him cockwarm you. He could not concentrate at all — squirming and squeezing around your cock so deliciously while you teased him about getting his work done.

Has definitely tried wall sex with you, with his back against the wall while you held him up. May or may not have happened at the opera after a heated trial when he ruled against your client and you were pissed your streak of wins on that week crumbled into dust. It’s neither your fault but the client’s, but you’re a sore loser and Neuvillette is a stoic judge.

Call him daddy while you fuck into him and he will break, he’ll go slack, his mind numbed when a rush of dopamine just infiltrated his brain every time you’d call him that.

And after all that, aftercare is a must. Treat your dragon well. He did so much for you, and you broke his old man back after fucking him into oblivion. Clean him nice and well, kiss his tears away, and wrap him tightly in a blanket while you hold him.

[sweetlywriting]

Steb x Enforcer! reader hcs

A/N- the other four Steb fans are gonna love this + gn reader + sfw as always!

I feel like with him it’s definitely a friends/co-workers to lovers relationship

At first, because you’re an enforcer and part of his team, he makes sure to get to know you-while quiet he still wants to maintain good relations with the people he’s constantly working with

Although as time passes he finds he’s a little more interested in you than he previously believed

Of course, not ready to accept his feelings he chalks it up to just wanting to get to know a coworker better

However Maddie and Loris notice how he doesn’t deny going out for drinks after work whenever you’re around, how most team shifts he assigns are with you, and how his green pallor seems to redden a bit when you train together

He gets used to seeing you, training with you, enjoying your company

He finds himself increasingly worried when you go missions without him, his mind constantly wandering back to you and your safety, his stoic demeanor diminishing

With his no-nonsense attitude, once he realizes his feelings he immediately tells you

While a man of few words, people can tell you’re together in that he’s very intentional with gestures and affection

He’ll have his hand on the top of the chair your in often peeking over your shoulder to see what you’re doing, he’ll pull you close in busy crowds so you don’t get separated, and a hint of pride enters his neutral tone whenever someone asks about you

Sometimes he’ll even bemusedly poke you with his baton and everyone else is just shocked because of you how serious he normally is

You make him feel lighter and more carefree <3

[python333]

your writing is literally the best in the cod fandom. we need more injured reader angst. it's too good

don't breathe — python333

— — — —

synopsis [reader] gets buried alive after refusing to give intel to enemy soldiers and *slips up and writes reader almost dying again* oops how did that happen haha

relationships platonic!price & gn!reader.

characters cap. john price.

word count 2.7k

warnings suffocation [reader], just generally really depressing thoughts, near death??, 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note aww tysm :(( dont say its the best im gonna get a complex LMAO but i appreciate it!! and yes i agree injured reader angst ftw :3 i present to you: reader gets very injured and theres a lot of angst and its basically just you suffering for a good 3/4 of the fic while the last quarter has the actual comfort!

“Hello?” You try again, your voice cracking and your tone as desperate as it can get, “Please, God, say someone can hear me.” 

You’ve been trapped in a casket for about five minutes now—at least, you woke up five minutes ago. God knows how long you’ve been stuck in the stupid thing, but realistically, it’s probably been much longer than five minutes.

The last thing you remember from before you were buried is being in the interrogation room of some small terrorist group’s facility, one you and the others were led to believe was abandoned weeks ago. 

Unfortunately, whoever gave you the information must’ve either had incredibly outdated information or was setting you all up for failure, because the facility was very much not abandoned and was instead full of enemy soldiers.

You all had already gotten into the building before you knew that, because of course you all had to be in the same spot at the same time—practically sitting ducks for the enemy—and of course you all had to be clueless about the possibly hundreds of people in the facility until it was too late. 

As far as you know, everyone managed to escape. Everyone but you. They didn’t mean to leave you behind, of course they didn’t, they were more focused on just booking it out of the facility. However, because of that, you were now stuck—you assume—several feet underground in a casket that has a limited amount of oxygen that drops every time you take a breath. 

You let out the breath you’re currently holding and suck in another deep breath, holding it as you think. Your strategy of holding your breath until you no longer could mostly worked, but it wouldn’t for long, you knew that soon you’d suffocate in all of the carbon dioxide gathering in the enclosed casket.

You don’t know how long you’d been unconscious in the casket, breathing in oxygen carelessly in your slumber, which made the whole situation worse. You didn’t even know how much time you had left. 

You hate to waste your breath checking your comms, but the enemy soldiers had accidentally left your earpiece in your ear—the small device apparently going undetected under their radar—and you wanted to make the most of it. You move your arm from your side and press onto the PTT button on your earpiece, wincing a little at how cramped the casket was.

“Does anybody copy?” You ask again, staring up at the almost pitch black space above you, “I repeat, does anybody copy?” 

It’s a vain attempt at contacting your team, really. You don’t know if they’re thinking about you, if the signal is going through, if they even have their earpieces on—you know nothing, and that terrifies you because you really don’t want to die right now but there’s literally nothing else you can do besides helplessly talk into your earpiece, not knowing if anyone’s listening. 

Your lungs start to burn and you let out the breath you were holding, taking another deep breath and beginning to hold that one. The air feels… thick. It’s starting to get harder to breathe, and you know you shouldn’t panic but you can’t help the few worried thoughts that come to the forefront of your mind. 

What am I going to do when I run out of oxygen and the only thing left for me to breathe in are my own discarded breaths? What will I do when all there is to do is suffocate? Am I going to try, in one last desperate attempt, to break out of the casket, or am I going to just lay here and die? Will my team try to find me, or will they forget about me? Have they already forgotten about me? 

Before you can listen to any more of those depressing thoughts, a voice comes from your earpiece. 

“H—lo? [c/n]?” It’s hard to tell with the static and the cuts in between the words, but you think it’s Price talking. 

“Price?” You ask immediately, all thoughts of preserving your breath forgotten. “Holy shit, you can hear me?” 

“Je—s— whe—e—” He cuts out for a moment and your stomach drops when all you can hear is static for a moment. 

“You’re— You’re cutting out, Captain, what did you say?” 

“Wher— —re you?” It takes you a moment to realize what he’s saying, your mind working much slower than it usually does, but once you do you shake your head negatively despite him not being there to see you. 

“I don’t— I don’t know,” You respond, taking a deep breath before adding on, “I think I’m underground, I just know I’m in a casket and it’s getting harder to breathe and—” 

“Okay, o—y,” You hear Price’s voice crackle, his voice becoming more distant and sounding almost muffled to you, “Sa— —ur bre—th, I’ll try to g—t some—e to track your— —tion.” 

With the constant cutting out of his words and the distortion of his tone, you can barely register or process what he’s saying, and that only panics you more but you refuse to let your emotions get the better of you even in the state of disorientation you’re in, so you keep holding your breath. 

A minute later, Price’s voice crackles through your earpiece again. 

“Okay, we’ve got your loc—tion,” Price’s voice sounds… oddly far away, “We can—” 

His voice slowly becomes muffled, and you release the breath you were holding without realizing it, slowly blinking up at the ceiling of the casket. A sort of haze falls over your mind and you can barely even hear Price anymore before you suddenly snap back to reality and hear his now much clearer voice loud in your ear. 

“[c/n]? [c/n], are you still there?” You recognize his tone now, and you’re just a little shocked at the sheer amount of worry in it. 

“Haven’t moved an inch,” You breathe out, before lying, “You cut out for a second for me, sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry, it’s okay,” Price reassures you, “I said we got your loc—tion and we’re hea—g out th— —w. It’s not t— far away from where —e alre—dy are, we’re ba—ely three clicks away.” 

“… Clicks?” You ask, your eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

“Yes, clicks,” Price replies, sounding concerned, before hesitantly asking, “… You know what those are, right?” 

“I don’t—” You struggle to find words for a moment before you speak again, your own voice starting to sound distant, “I don’t think so?”

“What do y—u mean you don’t thi— —o?” Price asks, his voice sounding freakishly close, “Are you okay?” 

“No, yeah, I’m fine,” You lie through your teeth, not wanting to worry Price further, “I just… how far away are you?” 

“Just ab—t two cli—ks now,” Price says, before pausing and clarifying, “Two kilometers.” 

Two kilometers… how far is that? “And that’s… is that far, or?” 

“No, it’s not too far. It’s just a mi—te away, we didn’t ge— —o far before Laswell got your loc—tion,” Price tells you, “We’ll be there soon, ok—y? We’ll get y— —ut of there.” 

“A minute—” You cough and feel tears pricking at your eyes from how hard it is to take another breath, “A minute?” 

“Yes, a minute— [c/n], are you okay?” Price asks again, before laughing nervously, “You know what a minute is, do— —ou?” 

“...” You struggle to answer the question, thinking long and hard for a few seconds before hesitantly answering, “… Yeah, I do, sorry. It’s sixty seconds.” 

“Why’d it take you so long to answer?” 

“I don’t know, I’m sorry, I—” You take a few shallow breaths, and feel a headache start to build up, “How far away are you guys?” 

“We’re alm—t there,” Price promises you, “The heli’s ab—t to l—nd, and we’ll dig you up, and—” 

Why is it so cold? Price’s voice cuts off and when he stops talking you realize that you’re shivering. You ball your fists up and can’t even feel your nails digging into your palms, your hands having gone numb from the cold, and realizing that makes you discover that your lips feel numb too. 

Your ears start to ring and you feel that uncomfortable pins and needles feeling in your hands, the sensation slowly traveling up your arms, making you both wanting to peel off your own skin and also grateful that you can at least feel something besides the cold.

In the midst of your thinking, you hear muffled thumping coming from above you—whoever buried you couldn’t have buried you anything below six feet. 

“—llo? [c/n]? Are you still there?” 

You bring your hand up, the movement slow and sluggish, and you try to search around the side of your face for your earpiece. You eventually find it and when you do you press against it until you feel the PTT button being pushed. 

“Still here,” You confirm breathlessly, coughing again as you take a few more shallow breaths, “I think I’m running out of— of… what’s the fuckin’ air that you can breath in, it starts with an o…” 

“… Oxygen?”

“Oxygen, yeah,” You slowly blink up at the ceiling of the casket, “There’s— I think— I don’t… I think… I think I’m gonna pass out, Captain.” 

“[c/n], don’t you fucking dare,” Price growls, “You stay awake, I swear to fucking god.” 

“I can’t—” You take a few more shallow breaths, before coughing, the tears escaping your eyes reaching the corners of your mouth. 

You can hear Price briefly talk with someone else, his voice the most serious you’ve ever heard it, before he talks directly to you again, “How much longer do you think you have before you run out of oxygen?” 

It takes you a moment to register the question, but when you do, you answer, “Uh… I don’t— I think… maybe a few more minutes? I can’t tell, it’s just hard to breathe, I can’t…” 

“Okay, okay,” Price softly says, gusts of wind blowing into his mic as he talks, “Give me a second, okay? We’re almost there, kid, we’ll— we’ll be there in just a minute, we just passed over you, I just need you to stay awake.” 

“In a minute,” You repeat to yourself, before taking a deep breath, hoping that you have enough oxygen to make it out of this casket because you really don’t want to die here, not when there’s help just a minute away. 

After what you assume is a minute or two, instead of thumping, you hear something cut into the dirt above you. The sound, however, is heavily muffled, so muffled to the point where you don’t know if you’re hallucinating or not.

Is that a symptom of CO2 poisoning? Hallucinations? You lay still in the casket and can’t help but release the breath you’d only just taken, the ringing in your ears starting up again and growing louder faster than they had before. 

Your entire body is numb, your chest is heavy, and you can feel a sort of fog fall over your mind. You can distantly hear Price yelling through your earpiece, but you can’t find it in yourself to respond, instead simply laying there, your blinking starting to slow down before it eventually stops, leaving your eyes closed. 

— 

For a moment, you think you died and went to heaven, which would be weird, considering all the things you’ve done in your life. Not saying you’d go to hell, just saying God would probably hesitate for a second before letting you in through the pearly gates. 

You blink awake, slowly but surely, and the first thing you realize is that you can feel things again. You tilt your head down to the bump under the white bed sheets laid on top of you, and squeeze your hand into a ball, watching the bump move and feeling your fingers dig into your oddly sore palms.

You let out a sigh of relief and pull your hand out from the sheets, bringing it up to your face and feeling the oxygen mask that’s been placed over your mouth and nose.

“Don’t mess with that,” You hear a voice say to your right. You turn your head and see a very tired Captain Price, dark eyebags hanging under his eyes and arms crossed, his hands having a white knuckle grip on either one of his elbows. 

“…” You don’t say anything, instead you simply stare at him until he sighs and gets up from his seat. You watch silently as he leans over your bed and bends down, before pausing, and then quickly snaking his hands under your back to pull you up just enough for him to properly hug you. 

You reach up with shaky hands and tentatively hug him back, not nearly as tightly—not that you don’t want to, but you physically can’t with how weak your arms are right now—but with just as much sincere affection. You can feel Price’s beard rubbing against your neck and hear his small sniffles as he embraces you tightly. 

Maybe it’s his sniffling, or the way you can finally feel warmth for the first time in what feels like forever, or maybe it’s just the fact that he’s holding you with so much care and affection that it almost makes you burst at the seams, whatever it is, it causes you to tear up as well. 

Those tears quickly become sobs that bubble up in your throat and crawl their way out of it, forcing you to tuck your head into the crook of Price’s neck and muffle your sobs in it, muttering a small ‘sorry’ after each one. 

After each ‘sorry’, Price responds with, “It’s okay, let it out, sweetheart, you’re okay,” and those reassuring words only make you cry more because God, you didn’t even think he’d find you, yet here he is, letting you cry into his neck and is reassuring you after every apology that it’s okay. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” You mumble a litany of apologies into Price’s neck, your breath stuttering and hitching as you try to hold back your sobs. Price only shushes you and rubs his hand up and down your back in a comforting gesture, bringing his head up to kiss the top of your head. 

He tucks your head under his chin, “Don’t apologize, it’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

And fuck, you know it’s just words, but it only makes you cry more. 

Your sobs eventually stop, leaving you hiccuping against Price’s neck, silently crying as he continues to rub your back. 

“I thought you died,” He whispers, his hand stuttering on your back, “I thought you died and I was going to dig up your dead body, when you didn’t answer me.”

You stay silent, letting him continue, “I thought you were dead when we dug you up and needed to feel your heartbeat for myself to confirm that you were still alive.” 

He pauses for a moment before continuing, “I’ve been here ever since they put you in here. I haven’t slept, I’ve just stayed here, waiting for you to wake up so I could tell you that I—”

He chokes up for a moment before taking a deep breath and continuing, “I’m sorry for not even thinking to drag you out of the facility with me when we all ran out. You were— you were right there, and I couldn’t just grab your arm and take you with me, I just had to leave you behind and I—” 

“You watched me while I was asleep?” You ask quietly, your eyebrows drawing together. 

Price pauses and pulls his chin off of your head, and pulls you away from his neck so he can properly give you the most incredulous look he can pull, before saying, “I’m pouring my heart out to you and apologizing for practically leaving you for dead, and that’s what you’re worried about?” 

“Well, I’m not worried, I’m just—” You shrug, not knowing how to explain it. Price sighs and chuckles quietly before tucking your head back under his chin. 

“You’re insufferable,” He mumbles, sniffling a bit. 

“… I forgive you, by the way,” You say after a moment of silence, “I didn’t really blame you in the first place.” 

“You had the right to.” 

“Sure I did.” 

“But you didn’t blame me.”

“Right.” “…” Price stays silent for a moment before pressing another soft kiss to the top of your head and saying quietly, “You should blame me.” 

“Maybe,” You mumble back, “But I won’t.” 

Later, maybe an hour later, if the others see you asleep in Price’s arms while he keeps your head tucked under his chin and rubs your back affectionately—no they don’t.

[dreamerinthemoonlight]

LaDS Boys when their S/O' sees a Bad Doctor's Doctor won't Listen (Rafayel, Xavier, Zayne, Sylus)

I hate dealing with shitty doctors. I really do.

Rafayel x fe!reader, Xavier x fem!reader, Zayne x fem!reader, Sylus x fem!reader

Rafayel

Raf isn't usually my favorite--in large part because we'd be the biggest disaster couple on the planet--but I feel like in this case, he'd be great

seriously, the moment the doctor stops listening, thr doctor gets the full force of Rafayel's aloof, arrogant demeanor

Raf is not the kind of person who hesitates to be a Karen if he thinks it's appropriate. And messing with his person definitely counts

Doctor: blah, blah, blah

Raf: Excuse me. I'm taking my person and we're leaving

Then you go get something to eat while he makes sure that you're ok because it's pretty disheartening to be not listened to by medical "professionals"

Xavier

he isn't with you at the doctor (probably at home sleeping or fighting wanderers) but he sees you crying when you get home

obviously he's not particularly happy to see you crying

his first priority is comforting you, maybe cuddling or inviting you to nap

then he insists you change doctors and the two of you do research to find a doctor who will listen

Zayne

As if this would ever happen

I can't see Zayne letting this ever be a problem to start with

He knows all of the best doctors in different fields

And even if the person you saw wasn't the best, just knowing that you're THE Doctor Zayne's S/o, I don't think they would dare try to give sub par care

I mean if they did, it might end their careers. Zayne would not hesitate to warn others away from that provider and Zayne's words hold a lot of weight

Sylus

Uh, you didn't tell Sylus what happened when it first happened

I mean, Sylus doesn't really hesitate to kill people and fucking with his kitten would piss him off.

Nobody messes with his kitten. They just don't

Of course, he found out about it. Mephisto was probably skulking somewhere in your vicinity while you were upset about it. And even if he hadn't seen through Mephisto's eyes, he'd have figured out when he asked you about the appointment

Sylus: How was it?

You: fine

Sylus: you sure about that, sweetie?

To his credit, he doesn't do anything to extreme. Much. He wants you to see that doctor one more time with him in tow, just so that he can tell the doctor they're fired in person

I don't think he'd kill the doctor, but he's certainly not above threatening them to make sure you get the care you deserve

The next doctor you see his one that he has personally vetted