#sighs. i remember as a kid the only thing i ever begged for was for my parents to sign me up for a karate class.

[sciderman]

I'm a lesbian and I'm pretty sure you'd beat me. I present more masc but ain't no way do I have the strength

i am made of toothpicks and tissue paper

[auroraksr]

PUPPY LOVE [ LANDO NORRIS ]

synopsis: you and lando as pet parents

warnings: fluff, just lando x y/n being the cutest, a lot of dog, not proofread

wc: 900+

since lando was a little kid he always wanted a dog.

since you were a little kid, you also wanted a dog.

and then you started dating. and got a dog.

"lando, for god's sake, how many times have i told you to not leave the leash by the door? i almost tripped!" you yell as you walk into the house back from work.

you and lando started dating 3 years ago and had your not-so-little dog for 2. his name was max - cause lando thought it was the funniest thing to name his dog after his best friend - and he was a huge golden retriever, the cutest you have ever met.

"sorry, love." you hear his muffled voice. when you walk into your room, the scenes strikes you like a bunch of hearts flying at your face.

lando was laying in bed, hugging max and with his head buried in the yellow fur. the dog was looking curiously at the door, waiting for your voice to actually become you.

when max sees you, his tail slaps in lando's leg and he stand up, moving in bed happily.

"hey, big boy." you greet him, caressing his fur and sitting down.

"where's my hi?" lando asks, his arms still plopped in the bed as he look at you.

"hey, big boy." you say again, now running his fingers through lando's hair. he shakes his ass like a tail wagging, for the joke, you laugh loudly. "stop it."

"so, sorry about the leash." he says sitting up. the dog going around you and laying with his head on your lap.

"always, huh?" you tease, almost mad.

"max was eager to drink some water, i can't say no to our only child!" he says in a high-pitched voice.

you push his head, he falls right back in bed and you stand up, resting max's head carefully on the matress.

"you should go take a shower, i'll order something for us, to enjoy or last weekend together." you groan as you remember the triple header coming and the amount of time you'd spent away from each other. "you want something special?"

"sushi?" you try, as always, convincing lando.

"hell no." he frowns, as he always do.

"i'll take some pizza, then." you shrug, walking in the shower.

when you get off, wrapping a towel around yourself, lando is not in the room. as you get dressed he appears, whistling and putting the pizza box down at the side table.

"don't let max get it before we can!" i barely yell, remembering the time lando placed the box on the bed and walked over to me. when we turned back, there was only two or three bites left of the pizza and a very hungry dog looking at us with his doe little eyes.

"sure, ma'am." lando sits down on bed, what gets a grunt from the dog.

you sit on bed, already in your pajamas, getting comfortable while lando puts something on the tv.

you take a piece of the pizza, biting it as max looks at you hopefully. you chuckle at his eyes.

"when did you learn to be like that, man?" you talk to the dog as lando puts one arm around your waist and uses the other one to grab his own piece of pizza.

"he was a good example." you look at your boyfriend as he looks at you with such doe eyes. "you sure you can't go to any race in the next weeks?"

"i can try, but my boss is already eating me alive for absolutely nothing." you roll your eyes and rest against his arm.

"you know you don't have to stay in this job, right?" he starts again as you huff. "i know, i know, you want to be independent! you can be independent working in a job that doens't stress you out that much."

"i like my job, lan." you argue.

"i know you do, but i'm saying that you're always complaining about something when you could just quit and be with me during the weekends." he pouts.

"i'm gonna try and make it out for at least one of the races, 'k?" you rest your head in his shoulder and looks up at him.

"better, yeah." he sighs.

you hear a huff from the end of the bed and turn to see your dog looking at you like a maniac, begging for a bite of your pizza.

"look at his face!" lando exclaims, pointing out.

"max, please." you cry and the door licks his mouth.

"no way your winning, better his give him a bite before he decides to get one by himself."

you have dinner and watch a few episodes of a show you had started weeks ago with lando - and max. as the night finally starts tire you, you let out a few yawns before lando realises it's already pretty late.

"let's have some sleep, babe." he whispers, turning off his side table lamp and getting comfortable with you in his arms.

not a minute goes by before the sound of ruffling sheets is heard and you feel a furred and soft by your feet. when you realise, max is already in the middle of you two, also seeking the comfort lando so desperately wanted.

"max!" he complains as his arms are torned away from your skin.

"let him be." it's the last thing you remember saying before drifting into sleep.

[stevesherdaddynowlover]

we took a polaroid picture [s.h.] 18+

an: hiii just a little something because i was bored and thinking about steve harrington, shocker! hope you enjoy :)

masterlist

summary: you're steve's girl and he loves to show off the polaroid of you he carries in his wallet. but he also has a few he keeps for himself...just himself. (steve harrington x fem!reader)

warnings: cursing, illusions to sex and m masturbation but not really detailed descriptions, naked pics of reader taken with consent, little smutty but not much 18+ MDNI!!!

wc: 1.7k

Steve had a polaroid of you in his wallet. 

It was you in a pale yellow sundress that made Steve’s mouth water as it flowed against your tan skin. You’re sitting in a field against a red checkered blanket with your eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back as you laughed at something Steve had said. A perfect strawberry pinched between your fingers and drops of the sweet red juice on your chest and fingers from the bite you’d taken. It was beautiful, perfect even. He kept it tucked away but would pull it out at any given chance to show anyone that would look how beautiful his girl was. 

At the grocery store? He brought it out at checkout or in the produce aisle to show some teenage cashier who couldn’t care less or some kid restocking who looked at Steve with an eye roll before turning back to his job. He could be walking down the street or out to eat with his friends and if someone said hello or made polite conversation he was tugging his wallet out of his back pocket, whoever he was with letting out a small sigh as he grinned proudly and showed you off. It was cute. Steve was cute. 

Now it wasn’t the only polaroid he had of you, but it was definitely the only one he showed off. 

Under his bed in a pretty pink envelope that had been sealed with your lipstick print was a stack of polaroids that made his cheeks burn and his chest hurt from how pretty you looked. He had brought it up one day, more as an incoherent mumbling when he was inside of you, but the idea had stuck with you and the more you thought about it, the more you decided you wanted it. 

Steve hadn’t thought about it since that night, so it’s a surprise when he’s standing in his kitchen, chopping vegetables for your date night dinner when out of nowhere you bring it up again. 

“Stevie?”

A noncommittal hum left him, too focused on not chopping his fingers off while he worried that the sauce might be burning or the pasta would overcook. “Yeah, baby?”

You weren’t sure why you felt nervous, this was his idea! And realistically you knew that there’s no way he’d ever say no but still a part of you was hesitant. “Remember the other night when you said you wanted to take pictures of me…just for us to see…”

He’s lucky he didn’t lose a finger with the way his hands faltered, back straightening and eyes flying toward you to make sure he wasn’t making this up in his head. “I, uh, I do remember that, yeah,” clearing his throat he put the knife down and walked around to stand between your legs that were open and dangling over the kitchen counter, “that’s something you want, baby? For me to take some pictures of you all fucked out pretty?” 

God how did he get so fucking lucky? He had been with girls before, had been in love before, but nothing could have ever prepared him for you. Everyone in Hawkins fawned over you, the sweet, innocent little girl who wouldn’t hurt a fly and left a trail of fucking glitter and rainbows in he wake. 

But Steve knew better. You had him fooled at first, all shy smiles and red cheeks when he’d so much as look at you. It didn’t take long for him to figure you out. It was only a few months before you’d be in his ear at cookouts begging for him to take you to the bathroom so you could suck him off. You were the princess of Hawkins but at night you’d call him late at night when your families were sleeping and have him listen as you touched yourself to all the things he’d ever said or done to you, little pleas and whines leaving your lips as he listened on the other end of the line with his cock hard and eyes squeezed shut. 

And now here you were, in his kitchen with that look in your eyes as you asked him to take pictures of you naked, fucked out on his cock or his fingers or his mouth. Please god let it be his mouth. 

That was a few months ago and it was the best fucking thing Steve had ever done, the best thing you had ever done. He felt like a horny teenage boy the way he’d reach under his bed for that envelope. He’d grab it after spending the day with you, when he missed you, fuck even when he had you underneath him in his bed. 

Today had been a great day with you. He’d woken up with you wrapped around him and had breakfast in bed, you’ve insisted that you didn’t count as breakfast but he refused to hear it, and the rest of the day was spent watching movies and eating junk food and making out so much his lips were swollen and swore. 

You couldn’t stay with him tonight and after being pressed up against you all day he didn’t have any choice but to pull out the pictures of you, his pretty girl. 

It was hard to focus on what he was doing, looking at you made it difficult for him to do much of anything these days. He remembers when each one was taken and it makes his hands twitch at his sides instinctively, wishing you were here to hold onto. 

The first one is…innocent enough. You sprawled out in the middle of his bed with his favorite t-shirt raised high enough to show a sliver of your tummy and the hem of those goddamn lilac panties that make his head spin. No bra underneath, he’d never forget that and even if he did your pebbled nipples straining against his shirt would remind him.   You’ve got a sly smile, bottom lip between your teeth as he stands over you and has you pose for him. He swears your eyes fucking sparkle looking at him like that. 

The second one is far less innocent, his tummy clenching as he stares down at you, literally stares down because in this one you’re sitting on your knees in front of him. All that’s visible of him is his cock, hard and aching like it always is around you, and his spread thighs you’ve fitted yourself between. You’ve got one hand wrapped around his cock, the other shows your fingers digging into his thighs. What really gets him is that face of yours. Your head is cocked to the side, cheek squished against his thigh and a smirk on your face as you look up at him with those fuck me eyes that only you can do. He remembers how he felt, how he was panting above you and begging for your mouth like his life depended on it. 

“Please please please, baby. I’ll do anything, anything you want I swear on my fuckin’ life. M’all yours just please let me have that pretty mouth, i need it, need you bad.” 

He doesn’t remember when he wrapped a fist around his cock or when his hips started thrusting up, lifting off the bed so urgently it shocked him. He doesn’t remember anything or anyone but you and all he knows is he won’t even get to look at the other pictures tonight because this one, this one is his favorite. It’s hidden in the middle of the stack and he can’t help but smile, knowing you moved it from its spot at the back. You know he won’t last once he sees it and he’d laugh if he wasn’t throbbing so hard and a deep moan wasn’t clawing its way up his throat. 

His favorite picture, his favorite girl. This one is you on your back, shirt gone and tits held between your hands. Your nipples are peaking through your fingers and it makes him whine in the back of his throat. Prettiest fuckin’ tits he’s ever seen. His eyes move lower, one of his hands gripping onto the soft curve of your hip, he remembers you had little fingerprint bruises there for a week or so and it drove you both fucking crazy. The other hand is holding the camera, doing his best not to drop it on you but it’s so hard when you’re looking at him like that and saying the things you were saying…

“Please, Stevie…put it in, just the tip please. I want a picture of it, I need it, please. I’ll be good, promise, won’t move or anything. I just need you.” 

And who was he to tell you no? Especially when you begged so pretty and asked so nicely. “Fuck, ‘course, of course. Anything for you, I'd do anything. You’re my girl, yeah? My good, pretty girl.” It’s hard for him to make sense or think with his cock that close to your dripping cunt, all red and swollen and begging for him. 

He moves past your hips, looking to where the tip of his cock was pressing into you, pushing in with no resistance because you had planned this. Had planned to beg and plead with him for this picture and the idea had turned you on so much you were dripping. 

That was what did it, looking at you all spread out, taking his cock with that smirk on your face and your tits out for him to drool over. His stomach and hand now covered in his cum, head laying back on his pillow and even though he’s sweaty, curls sticking to the back of his neck and his chest is heaving from cumming so hard his vision is blurry, he can’t help but smile. 

You’ll giggle and tease him tomorrow when he tells you he only made it through three of the pictures, giving you a playful smack on your ass for sticking his favorite in the middle of the stack, and he won’t care about that teasing because if you’re smiling and happy, nothing else matters to him. 

Plus he can always save the rest for a rainy day, or tomorrow. 

[mypoisonedvine]

𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯 | darren/pig x reader

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 | since little babbas, it's been pig and runt, runt and pig-- king and queen of your own little world. you were happy with just that, but now that you're eighteen, pig wants more... more than you're prepared to give, it seems. and he's prepared to take it if he has to.

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 | 4.6k

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 | NONCON SMUT (18+ only; virginity loss, creampie/breeding, fingering, coercion and force, slapping, hair pulling), extreme creepiness/yandere vibes, innocent reader, niche irish accent/dialect so bear with me on the slang and such

(I tried to capture the spirit of the very unique dialogue style of the play/film, while still making it vaguely intelligible and hopefully keeping it from being too upsetting-- but this is definitely one of the weirdest things I've ever written. proceed with caution as always.)

You laid awake that night, thinking endlessly about how he’d kissed you.

Why’d he done that?  What’s he thinking?

You felt a little sick and a little dizzy every time you remembered it— it was just weird.  You’d never imagined kissing Pig— or Pig kissing you— even if other kids had been joking about it since you were wee.  Now that he’d gone and done it, pinning you to that wall and pressing his lips on yours (oddly sweet, for how hard his fingers dug into your arms), you wondered if it was what you should’ve expected.  You just assumed it would always be the two of you— Pig and Runt, King and Queen— but never pictured it changing.  But things change, don’t they?  Boys and girls become men and women, husbands and wives, dads and mams.  It’s just what happens.  But you never thought about it happening to you and Pig…

It played over and over in your mind: his cold eyes, his soft lips, his fast breaths against your face.  “Please, Runt?” he’d whispered, looking heartbroken and desperate like you’d never seen.  Begging you to let him kiss you, but he’d taken your first kiss and not even warned you— what were you supposed to do?

The same questions swirled in your mind when you heard the knock at your door the next day.  You knew it was him, and you knew that he knew that you knew it was him… 

“Lemme in, Runt,” he demanded from the other side, and you stood up and quickly opened the door.  He was leaning against the frame, looking down— like a little boy, ashamed and getting scolded.  He brushed past you and sat on your bed, and you shut the door.

“Pig,” you breathed, not sure what else to say.  A longer silence passed.

“Y’mad at me so,” he noticed, wringing his hands in his lap.

“No,” you denied with a sigh, sitting beside him on your bed.  “No, Pig— jus’ don’t understand… why’d you go an’ do that, then?”

“Ah,” he shrugged, looking away from you, “I-I told you already, think you’re pretty.”

But it wasn’t that, you knew it wasn’t only that.  “What you want, Pig?” you asked him quietly, and he looked at you again.  He smiled a little, his eyes looking you up and down quickly.

“Just a kiss, Runt,” he promised quietly.  “Only one.”

“Got one already,” you frowned as you crossed your arms.  “Stole it.”

He leaned in closer to you until you could feel his breath on your neck.  “Couldn’t help it,” he offered quietly, “m’sorry— just needed to kiss you.”

You turned and looked at him again, his face so close that you shivered a little.

“Should let me kiss you again,” he said, “see if y’like it this time, so.”

You hesitated, staring into his icy blue eyes.  “Think I will?” you wondered.

“Yeah, scared you before,” he said, “didn’t tell you nothin’ before I did it— that’s why you didn’t like it.  Try again, yeah?”

You bit your lip, seeing how he smiled at you— it didn’t match his eyes.  His smile was friendly and soft, but his eyes were darting back and forth between your own, anxiously searching them.  He wasn’t nearly as relaxed as he wanted you to think he was; he looked a little terrified.  It actually relieved you more than the cool-and-collected act did— you were terrified, too.  And maybe that wasn’t a bad thing.

“Please,” he whispered.  

The last thing you wanted was to hurt him, and you knew you would if you turned him down.  Nervously, you nodded, and the way he smiled at you warmed your heart.  He grabbed your face— gently, still— and pressed his lips to yours.  You tried to kiss him back this time, moving your lips slowly with his, and his thumb stroked your cheek as he tilted his head a bit more.

When he broke away a few moments later, he smiled at you with his face close to yours, and put two more pecks on your lips before finally letting go of your head.

“Love kissing you,” he mumbled, “taste so sweet, Runt…”

You smiled a little at the compliment.  “You taste like toothpaste,” you admitted with a giggle, and his cheeks got a bit pinker.

“Ah, Runt,” he cooed, “jus’ didn’t want you tastin’ my lunch— s’not what you want, is it?  To kiss me and taste Tayto crisps?”

You laughed and shook your head, while he pulled you closer and wrapped you up in his arms.  You shivered a little as he kissed the top of your head, inhaling deeply the scent of your hair.

He grabbed you by it suddenly, wrenching your head back and kissing you again— harder, and shoving his tongue into your mouth.  You moaned a little in shock and protest, but he just moaned back at you.

“Pig!” you managed to yelp out, muffled by his lips, and he hummed proudly.

“Need ya, Runt,” he groaned, letting go of your hair and starting to hold you tightly.  You whimpered as he kissed you so hungrily, unsure what to do or think.

“Jus’ a kiss, Pig,” you reminded him, but he groaned and started to hold your neck, moving his hand down to the collar of your t-shirt.  

“Jus’ a kiss,” he repeated, grabbing your shoulder painfully tight to keep you still as he started to kiss on your jaw.  “Jus’ a kiss, so— no more?”

“No, Pig,” you insisted, really thinking he would stop; but you both heard the whimpery moan that you let out when he kissed the very right spot on your neck…

“Oh,” he purred, moving his hand to tickle your chest again, “Runt like it— like the kisses?  Moan again all pretty, girl…”

You yelped and slapped his hand when it started to dip into your shirt, touching the edge of your bra.

“Eh!” he whined, backing away and shaking his hand out.  “What’cha slap Piggy hand for?”

“One kiss, you said!” you reminded him with a whine.

“Sorry, pal,” he laughed, “thought you liked it— way you moan an’ all…”

You bit your lip, because you couldn’t deny that it felt good— but the alarms in your head had gone off the second he touched under your shirt.  What did he have to do that for, if you were just kissing?

“S’okay if you’re scared,” he promised, “doesn’t mean we can’t—”

“Stop,” you said sharply, turning away a bit, needing more time to think.  You crossed your arms and turned away, and he slid closer to you on the bed.  

“Runt, I—”

“Stop talkin’, Pig,” you pleaded.  “Don’t wanna talk about it anymore.”

He laughed nervously, looking away and then back at you; his hand came to rest on your arm.  “Pig never hurt Runt,” he promised.  “You’re my life.  I’d never hurt you.”

“Mine too,” you returned softly, meeting his gaze again.  It wasn’t really that you were afraid he would hurt you… it just made you feel strange.  “Don’t feel right, this,” you told him.

His smile fell, and he looked at you with the saddest eyes— you couldn’t take seeing them, so you looked down, but he reached and turned your chin so you’d look at him again.  “How’s it not feel right, us?” he wondered.  “King and Queen— s’always us, pal.”

“Eh, I know,” you breathed, “but… not like that.”

“Not like kiss?” he pressed, lowering his voice, his fingers dragging along your arm and down to yours, where he tickled your hand until you turned your palm up for him.  “Not like touch?”

A shaky sigh fell from your lips as his fingers tickled your hand.

“Not like…” he continued, whispering now, watching your face as you watched his hand, “fuck?”

He reached under your shirt suddenly and your hand instinctively raised to hit him again, but when it came down his other hand caught it harshly at the wrist.

“No slap,” he warned sharply.  “I’s only talking, Runt—”

“Talkin’ about a fuck!” you noticed with a frown.  “Pig, we can’t—!”

“Why not?  We grown,” he insisted.

“But… but we…” you mumbled, looking at him and losing your train of thought.

“Wanted you, Runt,” he admitted with a sigh as you looked at him.  “Wanted you so long…”

“You did?” you pressed nervously, and he must have confused your shyness for coyness, because he smirked and nodded before pulling you a little closer.

“Held your hand at night,” he whispered in your ear, “had the other one on m’cock, real tight…”

He smiled and licked his lips, but you pushed your legs together shyly.  He’d really been doing that while you were holding his hand?

“So pretty, Runt,” he praised softly, fingertips running up those clenched thighs, “prettiest girl there is, yeah?  Only girl worth looking at, I think— can’t be another but you, Runt, s’gotta be you.”

You looked away, unsure what to think or feel about that.  You’d never really thought about Pig being with any other girl, he’d certainly never shown interest in any— but did that mean you had to be with him?

He started to lift up the bottom of your shirt, and you jumped slightly as you tried to push his hands back down.  “Why don’t you let me see you?” he pouted.  “Used to have baths together.”

“When we was babbas,” you remembered, “s’different now.”

“Why’s it gotta be different?” he shrugged.

You never agreed to it, you just stopped fighting it— he lifted your shirt again, and you nervously let him take it off of you; a shiver passed over you from the slight chill in the room.  

“See?  Not so bad,” he said.  “Now the bra too—”

“Pig,” you whimpered, “feels weird.”

“I know,” he agreed, “but doesn’t it feel good, too?  Tingly, right between t’pretty legs?”

All these compliments only added to your confusion— because yes, it felt nice and sweet when Pig said such lovely things to you.  And he was right, too: his fingers tracing the edge of your bra did make a hot, strange feeling stir between your legs.  You didn’t want him to touch you there, really, but you also got the sense that if he did, it would help satisfy this sudden need for pressure.

“Show me how you take it off, Runt,” he insisted, and you shakily reached behind your back to unclasp the bra.

He sighed slightly when you opened it, but before you could slide the straps off, he reached up and held your shoulders.  Pushing you back (gently) onto the bed, he laid you on your back and hovered over you with the strangest, softest expression on his face; then he guided the straps down your arms, his breath catching as he exposed your chest to him.

It made your whole body break out into goosebumps when he stared at you like that, letting your bra fall on the floor.  He looked awestruck as he ran his hands up your stomach— your own breath picking up a bit as they got higher and higher— until he delicately reached your breasts, fingertips brushing against your nipples.

You almost whimpered but you bit your lip instead; his eyes were glued to them, cupping them in his hands and starting to squeeze a little more firmly.  He choked on nothing when he ran his thumbs over the tips and saw them get a little harder.  “Prettiest tits, Runt,” he groaned out his praise.  “Look so ready for Pig to lick them…”

He leaned forward and ran a wide, flat tongue over one bud as you moaned, then closed his lips around them.  You didn’t mean for your back to arch into it, or for your hand to come down and pet his hair— but you couldn’t help it.  The strangeness of all this had made them so sensitive, and every swirl of his tongue around your nipple made a pulse hit between your legs.

“Mm,” he hummed proudly as he moved from one to the other, looking up at you with bright and needy eyes.  You both were panting when he lifted himself up to look at you with a grin.  “Could suck on them for hours, Runt, if y’keep makin’ the pretty noises for me.”

He kept his mouth on one of them and held the other in his hand— but the second hand moved down your side, to your hip, to your shorts—

You clamped your legs together again, and he frowned as he pulled his mouth away from you.  “Open t’legs, Runt,” he whispered.  “Let me feel.”

You sighed a little, heart racing, and obeyed, hesitantly relaxing and spreading your legs.  His hand touched outside your shorts first, running over the fabric and cupping you through them.  “P-Pig,” you mumbled out as he pet you, his breaths heavy and uneven as he looked down and watched his hand move over you.

Shoving his hand in your shorts, he groaned as he cupped your heat in his palm, and you squirmed a little.  His fingers explored between your lips, groans escaping your throat before you could stop them.  This felt incredibly strange, being touched somewhere no one else ever had before, and you groaned a little as he seemed to be trying to feel everything until he could memorize it or something.

He swirled his fingertips around your opening, smiling proudly at the squelchy sound it made.  “You can hear it, Runt— ‘cause it wants me, see?  Little hole wants Pig in it.”

He slipped a finger in, making you bite your lip while his fell with a heavy sigh.

“Warm,” he said simply, his eyes looking a little darker as he felt inside you.

He pulled his finger out and brought it up to his face, taking a deep inhale beside the shiny digit as you bit your lip nervously.  

“Fuck, Runt, smells good,” he groaned.  “Smells fuckin’ good…”

He licked his finger next, humming at the taste.

“Wanted a taste for a while, yeah?” he admitted with a lower voice.  “D’ya ever think about it, Piggy licking your little cunt?  Thought about my tongue inside you?”

You shook your head, but he didn’t seem to believe you.

“Thought about it,” he informed you— obviously.  “Wanked and thought about it, sweet little Runt sitting on my face; making you come, kissin’ you there.  An’ thought about you tasting me, too— pretty lips on my cock, that sweet tongue…”

Gasping, you looked away; you shuddered as he started to kiss your neck, and you reached up to push him away but ended up just holding onto his shoulders when his tongue tickled your pulse.

You whined loudly when he reached into your shorts again and slipped two fingers into you— the stretch stung and made your hips jerk.

“Too much, Pig!” you told him, trying to push his hand away.

“Too much?” he repeated with a laugh.  “How’s the cock gonna fit if the finger’s too big?”

The hand trying to stop him ended up just holding his wrist as he curled his fingers inside you, making your legs shake completely on their own.  

You were a bit relieved and disappointed at once as he took his fingers out of your shorts, but then you sat up and tried to jump away when he hooked both hands into the shorts to try to pull them down.  “What’s wrong, then?” he asked.

“D-don’t want you to see,” you mumbled.

“Already touched, Runt, lemme see now,” he insisted, but you moved your hips away again with a pout.  “Okay,” he relented, and for a second you thought that meant he’d stop making you do all these things, but then his hand moved to start opening his jeans, “I’ll show you first— to make it fair, so.”

You instantly shut your eyes tight when you caught a glimpse of it, the big white thing he pulled out in front of you; but then you found yourself looking, like you couldn’t help it, out of morbid curiosity.  And then you just felt even more terrified, because of how thick it was, how it flexed in his hand as he held it tightly, how there was a little drop of clear liquid leaking from the tip…

“I—” you stammered, not even sure yourself what you were going to say, but he interrupted you.

“Touch it, Runt,” he whispered, somewhere between a plea and a demand.  “Touch how hard…”

You shuddered as you brushed your fingers over him and the silky smooth skin of his cock, feeling empty and hollow— you couldn’t believe this was happening, that you were touching Pig there… 

“Do you think it’s gonna fit, Runt?” he taunted softly.  “Do you think little cunt’s gonna hurt with the big cock in it?”

“Pig, maybe not today…” you suggested weakly, overwhelmed by what you’d already done without even imagining what was next.  “Maybe wait—”

“Wait, eh?” he frowned.  “Mean girl, makin’ Pig wait so long an’ then some more— gettin’ the boy hard like that and wantin’ to stop now—”

“M’not ready,” you tried to explain, but he kept going, snarling at you as his anger grew.

“Little tease!” he accused.  “Lettin’ me kiss you an’ all that— touch you an’ suck the little buds, all lyin’ to me that I could have you— you’re lyin’!  Thought we’s pals, Runt.”

“Pals, yeah!” you agreed.  “Forever!  But—”

“Then let me feel,” he demanded.  “Let me be inside… s’jokin’ earlier, it won’t hurt you.  Pig never hurt Runt.”

You whined and looked away, and Pig put his face right by yours, breathing warmly onto your neck.

“Never,” he swore again.  “I can make you feel good.  Promise.  It feels good, Runt… s’good to have the cock inside, for both.  If you don’t like, we stop.”

“Okay,” you blurted out.  “Okay, Pig… we can try.”

He smiled and sat back between your legs, pulling your shorts and panties down and biting his lip as he touched again with a full view this time.  “S’pretty, Runt,” he praised quietly, spreading you with his fingers as he examined you.

You tried not to resist, hoping to force yourself to relax, but you couldn’t help but jump when you felt his cock press against your wet lower lips.  “Don’t squirm, Runt, s’gonna feel good,” he promised, laying down on top of you and hovering above you.

“Scared, Pig,” you admitted with a little whine, and he smiled at you as he kissed your cheek.

“Won’t be so bad, yeah,” he assured quietly.  “S’posed to happen.  Boys and girls do this— it’s what we do, okay?  S’posed to be like this— me and you, man and woman.  And it’s so wet, Runt— you want me.”

Before you could decide if you agreed with that, he looked down and lined himself up to your opening.  He sighed heavily as he plunged the swollen head into you, a totally new expression falling over his face as he looked down at you.  “Ah, Runt, s’fuckin warm,” he groaned, pushing in another inch; you whined and tried to move your hips away, but he held them down as his mouth fell wide open with gasps.  He watched himself do it, too— he watched the way his cock split you, even using his thumb to tug up on your clit to get a better view.

He moaned loudest when he was all the way inside, his hips flush with yours, your aching body suddenly covered in goosebumps.

“Feel it?” he grunted.  “Feel how it fits just right?  See?  S’meant to be me an’ you, Runt.”

Just right isn’t quite how you would’ve described it, not with this stinging pain inside like he was tearing you open.  You could’ve maybe gotten used to it easier if he’d just stayed still, but he started thrusting right in as soon as he’d slipped inside— you tried to reach down to grab his hip, a chance to slow him down, but he grabbed you at the wrist and pinned your hands down.  “P-Pig,” you choked out, “you’re hurting me—”

“Shh,” he breathed, “s’not gonna hurt if you give it a minute.  Fuck, Runt, y’feel that?  It’s so good, Runt… such a good, wet hole…”

You started to sob then, but he ignored it.  “Said you’d never hurt me,” you reminded him— but he only heard what he wanted.

“So big, I know,” he said proudly, pulling back enough to look down at the sight of himself inside you.  “Look’it that,” he groaned, “all that sticky juice, soakin’ my cock, you’re such a good girl for me now, yeah?  Runt be good for Pig…”

Another whine jumped from your throat as he moved faster, the sound of skin hitting skin beginning to fill your room.  

“Ah, fuck, Runt,” he moaned louder, “s’fuckin’ tight… saved it for me, wanted me to be the one to break it in, yeah?  Needed my cock to open y’up, I know it— ah, needed Pig’s cock, didn’t ya?  Wanted to beg for it all sweet-like?  Pig, need your cock— fuck me, Pig— say it like that.”

“No,” you whimpered, whining as he squeezed your wrists harder.

“Say how I told you,” he demanded.

You shivered a little, trying to find the courage to say something like that; it came out as a shaky, tense whisper.  “F-fuck me,” you begged under your breath, and he growled before kissing your neck messily.  His thrusts got a bit faster and rougher— and deeper, which you hadn’t even realized was really an option since it never seemed like he was holding back before.

“Dirty little Runt, needs a mean fuck,” he grinned.  “Wants it hard.  But m’gonna be nice with you— make it all sweet for the pretty Runt.”

One hand moved to hold tightly onto your hip— too tight, really, enough to bruise— and he changed the way he moved inside you: a bit faster yet again and somehow more tender, more intentional.  You moaned before you could stop yourself, the crying suddenly stopping, as a different angle making his cock’s fat tip rub against some little spot inside you… it still felt horribly strange, having Pig on top of you and inside of you, but there was a sense of satisfaction building with it as well.

“Nobody else ever gonna touch you, Runt,” he informed you with a heavy sigh.  “Nobody gonna touch the Runt but Pig— nobody else get to see the pretty tits, nobody else get to feel inside.  It’s all just for me.”

He purred when he noticed the way your face relaxed and your body went a bit limp; you felt warm all over, especially where he filled you, and the pain was gone— at least, the physical pain.  Your head still hurt with confusion and shame.

“See?” he smiled wide— impossibly wide— as you shuddered under him.  “So good, Runt— y’like it, hm?  Pig’s cock in you, you like it, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you panted, whimpering as he fucked you a little more desperately now, not quite as patient as before.  “Yeah— feels good…”

“How it’s supposed to be,” he insisted again, losing his smile to a series of heavy breaths and moans.  “How it’s gotta be, Runt— gotta be me and you, King and Queen, an’ m’gonna be inside you when I want.”

You shuddered, already overwhelmed by this, let alone a standing order to be fucked whenever he wanted it.

“Such a pretty hole,” he groaned, holding onto your shoulders to keep you steady as he rocked his hips faster.  “Can’t wait to fill it up…”

Your eyes went wide when you realized what he meant by that.  “N-no, Pig!” you choked out.  “Can’t get the spunk inside—”

“Shut it,” he snapped, covering your mouth with his hand, “s’gotta be inside, Runt, needa fill your hole.  Needa see it drip out, yeah?  Gonna watch all my come run out the little cunt…”

Your muffled whimpers just spurred him on more, his teeth bared as he growled by your ear.

“Give Runt the seed, yeah?” he grunted, fucking you harder.  “Fill the needy fuckin’ hole— s’wet ‘cause it needs it.  You need me.”

He took his hand off your mouth again to indulge himself in your terrified whining, pinning your flailing arms down instead and moaning as he licked and sucked on your neck.

“Wanna be pregnant, Runt?  Wanna babe?”

“No, Pig!” you cried in response.  “C’mon, Pig, please— jus’ pull out!”

“Mm,” he considered it, “but our little babe would be so cute, Runt— your eyes an’ my nose, haven’t you thought about it?  Me an’ you, mum and dad?  Sort of funny, don’t you think?”

He laughed— how could he laugh at a time like this?!

“Tell me you wan’ it inside, Runt,” he demanded.  “Say it!  Say you wan’ all Pig’s spunk inside!”

“I—” you began, hesitating, and he slapped your face as you yelped.

“Say it!”

“F-fuck, wan’ it inside, Pig!” you begged as you cried.  “Come in me, Pig, just come, please— just come and be done, please—”

“Shh, shh,” he hissed, shutting his eyes tight as his hips moved faster.  “Ah, fuck, can’t wait anymore… m’coming, Runt—”

He gasped loudly and held your hips too tightly as he pushed himself as deep as he could go.  Your eyes and mouth open, you simply looked up at the ceiling, paralyzed and speechless as he groaned and spasmed a bit. 

“We one now,” he whispered to you, kissing the side of your face.  “Man and woman.”

You could only blink numbly as he sat up enough to look down at you, his face hovering too close above yours.

“I think Runt like it,” he grinned, cooing as a tear ran down your temple— he swiped it up with his thumb and licked it up.  “Why cry?”

You sniffled and finally managed to wrench your wrist out from his grip, but you couldn’t do anything with it, so you just brought it nervously to cover your chest.  “Y’hurt me, Piggy…”

“Aw,” he pouted at you, laying a little more of his weight on you, “jus’ ‘cause it’s the first, Runt.  Next time be sweeter, yeah?  Easier.  Little pussy opened up an’ ready now.”

He gently pulled his hips back, sighing as he slipped his cock out of you, and you winced.  He scooted himself down and put his face right close between your legs, making you try to close your thighs together— but he just held them open and used his thumb to pull your lips apart more.

“Ah, shit,” he frowned, “s’too deep, hasn’t run out yet.  Can y’push it out, Runt?  So I can see?”

“S-stop lookin’ at it, Pig,” you whimpered a little, feeling self-conscious about his face so close to you there…

“But s’pretty,” he giggled quietly.  “C’mon, Runt, just push so Pig can see all the spunk come out.”

Though your face had never felt so warm and you cringed at the request, you pushed just once and felt a warm trickle run down from your hole to the seam of your ass.

“Oh,” he breathed.  “Prettiest thing, that is.  Runt full’a Pig, all the seed pourin’ out…”

He dragged two fingers up through the sticky path down from your pussy, pushing the come back into you as you whimpered from both the soreness and the fear of what might happen now that he’d done that to you.

While your body shivered helplessly and your mind raced with thoughts, all you could do was lay there and blink at the ceiling as he laid down beside you.  He hummed as he pulled you into a tight hug.  “Love ya, Runt,” he whispered, smiling still.  “You’re my life.  It’s us now, yeah?  King and Queen…”

He laughed, in a giddy sort of way, and held you even closer as he buried his face in your neck.

“King and Queen,” he repeated, “forever and ever and ever, yeah…?”

[python333]

soft spot — python333

— — — —

synopsis you've been having a bad day, and ghost feels like being extra nice to you. plot twist you're an age regressor and him being so nice is NOT helping.

relationships platonic agere cg!ghost & gn little!reader.

characters ghost.

word count 6.7k.

warnings a victorious reference, age regressor reader, usage of c/n [call sign/code name], 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself]

note please feel free to attack me as much as you want if this is inaccurate. i don't even care if it's not constructive criticism. i am begging for everyone's thoughts and opinions on this!! this is also the longest oneshot i think i've ever written!

“Having fun there?” 

You turn in your seat and find Ghost leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and one eye slightly wider than the other—an indication that his eyebrow is raised. 

“Not really,” You answer, setting down your gun. You’d been disassembling it, trying to take your mind off of the slowly growing headache that’s been building up for the past few hours. You don’t think it’s a migraine or anything, but it still bothers you greatly. 

“Yeah, no, I can tell,” Ghost chuckles, pushing himself off of the door frame and walking over to you. He eyes your gun for a moment, the magazine already removed as well as any live rounds left in the rifle ejected, and the bolt locked to the rear. You were only maybe a quarter of the way through your disassembly, even though you started around thirty minutes ago. 

For some reason, you woke up upset today. You were too tired, you felt awfully sluggish, and there was a throbbing pain clustered in the back of your eyebrows. So, in short—you were reasonably very upset. It showed visibly in the way your eyes twitched every so often, and in the way you felt the need to pinch the bridge of your nose to distract you from the pain that was still building up behind your brows. 

“What’s going on?” He asks, leaning on the table. 

“I have this headache that won’t go away,” You respond, sighing as you move your gaze from your gun to Ghost. You can barely see it, but from his eyes you can tell that his face scrunches up beneath his mask. He knows a thing or two about bad headaches, being someone who frequently gets migraines himself. 

“Have you taken any meds for it?” You shake your head ‘no’. Ghost holds up a single finger in a ‘one moment’ motion and rummages through the pockets on his tactical vest for a moment, before he pulls out a small bottle of ibuprofen no bigger than his palm. He hands it to you. 

“Here.” You blink at it for a moment. 

“Thanks,” You take the bottle gingerly and Ghost nods, watching you as you struggle with the child-proof lid for a second before getting it open. You shake out a small tablet, one the size of a low-dosage aspirin, and pop it into your mouth. You don’t have much of an issue dry-swallowing it, and it only takes one attempt before you successfully swallow the tablet.

“You’ve been feeling pretty bad this whole week, haven’t you?” Ghost frowns underneath his mask. 

You think for a moment before nodding, “Yeah, I guess. I think it’s mostly just stress.” 

You know it’s not just stress. 

For a while now, you’ve used something called ‘age regression’ as a form of stress relief. You don’t know exactly when it started, but you do know that it was before you were recruited for the 141. And originally, you made a promise to yourself that you wouldn’t regress while on base, and you kept that promise for maybe a month before you broke it. 

You think it was Ghost that was the trigger, actually. You can vividly remember the first time you regressed while on base; you had just finished talking to Ghost, and he called you something—you think he called you something similar to ‘kid’—that made a flip in your mind switch immediately. You can remember excusing yourself from the conversation quickly, leaving your lieutenant slightly confused but otherwise unbothered by the strange action. 

And, worst of all, you can remember being in your quarters and practically burrowing under your blankets. You were curled up into a fetal position, trying to fight the urge to suck on your thumb or at least chew on something, but ultimately lost the fight and succumbed to your urges. You spent maybe a few hours like that, wide awake when you just wanted to try and sleep it away, thinking about that interaction you had with Ghost over and over again. 

You’re not stupid. You know that Ghost has some sort of soft spot for you—albeit, you don’t know exactly how soft that soft spot is, but it’s definitely soft. Soft enough that he goes the tiniest bit easier on you compared to other recruits, soft enough that he spares you more time than he does for others, and the most obvious of all—he initiates most of your conversations. 

Contrary to popular belief, he’s not the scary super-soldier most people think of him as. Sure, maybe he is kind of scary, and maybe his mask does jumpscare you when you’re doing missions in particularly dark spaces sometimes, but other than that he’s not scary in the slightest. If anything, he’s awkward. Awkward enough that he’s almost never the first person to talk to someone—except for you, of course. You don’t know why he acts so differently around you, but you don’t complain about it. 

“That’s rough,” Ghost looks down at you with concerned, empathetic eyes, “Sorry you’re so stressed. Mind me askin’ why?” 

“I don’t, but I also don’t know why I’m so stressed,” You huff out, even though you know the answer completely. You stand up, “I think it’s just me being sleep deprived. I’ve been having the tiniest bit of trouble falling asleep lately.” 

“You should’ve told me earlier,” Ghost tuts, “I have melatonin.” 

You give him a confused look. “You do?” 

“‘Course I do.” 

You blink at him for a moment before sighing, “Could I have some then?” 

“What’s the magic word?” You give him an unimpressed look, ignoring the way the words make your stomach twist, and his eyes crinkle in a way that lets you know that he’s grinning under his mask. 

“Could I please have some melatonin?” 

“The magic word was lotion, but I’ll let it slide,” Ghost hums, “There’s some in my office. I’ll grab it for you later.” 

“M’kay,” You look over at the door, unintentionally zoning out as you do. Your vision goes unfocused as the throbbing pain behind your eyebrows grows and something else grows inside of you. 

Jesus. Why can’t you choose any other time to get the urge to slip into a younger mentality? Why does your headache have to make everything worse for you? Why does Ghost have to be so nice and helpful? 

“Hey,” Ghost frowns, tapping a finger on your shoulder to snap you out of whatever trance you’re in, “[c/n]?” 

Oh God. 

Your eyes—that you try desperately to keep neutral—meet Ghost’s, his eyes soft and his eyebrows dipped downwards in a confused manner. His eyes are searching, flitting over you, trying to find something. The way he looks at you makes you want to squirm, and you can’t help but just slightly shuffle in place. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks, voice as concerned as his look. That should be the breaking point for you, but you remain as big as you can be, and nod affirmatively. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You try to assure him, hoping you don’t sound as nervous as you feel, “I think I’m just a little tired.” 

Ghost doesn’t look convinced. 

He puts a hand on your shoulder, the act like a hammer putting another dent in the wall you had put up. The leather of his glove is warm even through the thick material of your shirt, and it feels like hot metal against your cold skin, the clothing covering your shoulder be damned. 

“You can tell me if you’re not okay,” He tells you—what is he doing? Does he know something I don’t?—while his thumb starts rubbing circles into your shoulder, “I feel like you’re more than a little tired.” 

You stay silent for a little bit. You don’t know how to explain yourself, the words seeming to liquify and leak right out of you, making you speechless. He seems to notice this, sighing and letting his hand slip down to your hand, holding it and giving it a quick squeeze. 

“I think,” He looks around for a moment before turning back to you, “that we should head to my office so that nobody can bother us, and then you can tell me all about how you’re feeling right now. Does that sound okay?” 

You nod wordlessly, not trusting yourself to talk with how heavy your tongue feels, and you let Ghost lead you back to his office. It’s only a hallway away, but that’s still enough time to overthink everything that could possibly happen. How does he know something’s wrong? What gave it away? Did I do something bad? What did I do? Wh—

The creak of his office door opening snaps you out of your thoughts, and Ghost steps aside to let you enter his office first. Hesitantly, you take a few steps inside, and you hear the door click shut behind you as Ghost walks in. He takes your hand again, making you look at him as he guides you to a chair. 

You sit in the chair that’s in front of his desk, and he quickly drags out the chair that’s behind it so that it’s right next to yours. He sits down. 

He’s looking at you expectantly. 

“Uh.” You’re not sure what to say. He’s looking at you so reassuringly, it’s hard to keep yourself sitting upright. 

“I know something’s wrong,” Ghost says, leaning forward the tiniest bit, “I need you to tell me what’s wrong so I can help you.” 

He’s got to have at least some idea of what you’re experiencing, You think, trying to form some sort of explanation, He’s being so… weird? 

You swear there’s some other word you could use, but your vocabulary feels so limited, and you would mentally curse if you could because you know that now your explanation is gonna sound weird. You can’t use the words you want, you’re gonna be forced to use simple words, ones that can’t convey exactly how you feel. Words that—and it physically pained you to admit this���were childish. 

You can explain your situation. Just, now it would be more… blunt. And short. And also you’d feel like killing yourself afterwards. You won’t, obviously, but you can predict that you’ll come very close to doing so.

Okay, I have to say something because Ghost is looking more and more worried the longer I stay silent. 

“I feel…” You trail off for a moment, trying to get your thoughts in order for the next two seconds to actually say something that makes sense, before continuing in a far less confident tone, “… small.” 

The moment the words leave your mouth, you regret it. Ew. Ew. Ew. What. Why? Why that word? It leaves a sour taste on your tongue and yet you can’t think of any other word that would better suit how you feel. Still. Ew. 

Your thoughts are a jumbled mess ranging from fleeting thoughts of disgust to thoughts lodged in the back of your mind begging you to go anywhere else just so that you can stop having to have this conversation. This conversation requires words bigger than you have access to, and a sort of control over yourself that you can’t grasp. You can feel your hands twitching, wanting something to hold onto, anything to keep you distracted from the overwhelming urge to just regress. 

Ghost blinks. He didn’t expect that answer. 

“Small?” He repeats in a questioning tone, eyebrows furrowed, “I mean, compared to me, I guess you’re kind of short—” 

“No, no, not like short small,” You try to clarify, feeling just slightly discouraged by Ghost’s confused words, “Like…” 

You struggle to find the words that properly describe how you feel, only finding words like small and little in your current vocabulary. Your findings are making you increasingly upset, and you can feel your face start to grow hot with frustration and embarrassment. 

Oh my God. 

“Like…?” Ghost nudges your knee with his, trying to encourage you to talk, “I’m not leaving until you tell me.” 

There’s still a level of care in his words, no matter how confused he seems, and that adds all the more struggle to your predicament. Not only do you not want to tell him, but you can’t describe how you feel in a way that’s acceptable for someone your age to describe anything. At least, not in a way that you deem acceptable for yourself to describe anything. 

You’re far too old to be describing yourself as small. 

“[c/n]?” Ghost nudges you again, and you blink at him. Your eyes are flickering all over his mask, going anywhere but his eyes, since eye contact with anyone would make everything significantly worse for you right now. 

“It’s just—” You try to take a deep breath but your breath hitches. Everything is starting to make you feel so frustrated, and you’re starting to think that you might just throw a tantrum if you can’t do at least one thing right. You try to find the words you want to use but your throat is disobediently closing on you. Your mind feels like straight mush, and the quickly softening look that Ghost is giving you isn’t helping you at all. 

To your horror, in your inexplicable inability to talk in the way you normally do, you let out a small whine. It sounds obnoxious to your ears, and worst of all, sounds like something a little kid would do. 

You put your head in your hands, the quickly reddening skin of your cheeks getting cooled by the cold of your palms as you try and hide your face from Ghost. You can picture how he looks right now—somehow more confused than earlier, possibly annoyed, weirded out—and all those mental images make you bite your tongue to prevent another noise. 

“What was that?” You don’t answer him. 

To your non-answer, Ghost sighs, and you think, This is it, this is where he kicks me out of his office, oh my God I’m gonna get dishonorably discharged and he’s gonna give me a really mean look on my way out—

“Look at me.” You shake your head negatively. 

“Why not?” He sounds so confused, it makes you want to cry. There’s still a level of worry in his voice, and it adds to the fog that builds up in your brain. 

You move your face just slightly up so that your eyes peek out from above your fingertips, your hands covering the rest of your face. Ghost reaches out both of his hands, and ever so gently removes your hands from your face, uncovering your red cheeks and your lips—the lower of which quivers, like you’re about to cry. He notices this quickly, and you can practically feel the level of his worry shoot up. 

He doesn’t say anything, instead just holding your hands in his for a moment, before he sets them down into your lap. He looks at you, concerned, and asks, “Is it hard to talk right now?” 

You nod. His gaze shifts to his computer, and then back to you. 

“I’m gonna go look a few things up really quick, okay? I’ll just be right over there,” He nods over to the space behind his computer, “and I’ll be right back here in a few seconds.” 

You reluctantly nod again, and Ghost gets up from his seat. He grabs the back of the chair and drags it back around behind his desk, sitting down in it and powering on his monitor. It turns on almost immediately, much to his relief, and he goes to his browser and searches up a few things. You can’t tell what he’s searching up, only hearing the clacking of keys and the occasional final click that indicates that he’s hit the enter button. 

He stays there for maybe a minute or two. It’s a long few minutes, and you can feel yourself slipping more and more the longer he stays at his computer. And the more you feel yourself slipping into that younger mindset, the more you start to crave Ghost’s attention. 

The way his eyes are glued to his computer starts to irritate you. You’re aware that he’s doing something important, he must be, because why would he be so intent on looking something up otherwise, but still—you manage to feel the tiniest bit jealous of the computer. You know you’re too far gone when you can’t find it within yourself to realize that you’re jealous of a computer. 

Your eyes linger on him and he must notice this because he looks up from the screen of his monitor and looks over at you. As if he can read your mind, he reassures you, “Just a few more seconds.” 

But you said you were gonna be back in a few seconds a few minutes ago. 

You don’t voice your thoughts. Instead, you nod, because God forbid you annoy Ghost with your need for attention now when he’s being so patient with you. He looks at you for another moment before going back to his computer and looking something else up, this time with a little more fervor. 

Another few seconds pass and, true to his word this time, Ghost stops and gets up from his chair. He walks over to you, and your eyes follow him intently. He kneels down in front of you.

He looks hesitant to say something to you. That’s a first. That adds to the exponentially growing blob of fear that lives inside your mind, one of the only things that’s still prominent in the fog that conquers your brain. 

“Are you…��� You feel like you know what he’s gonna ask you. You’re bracing yourself for the question, and he looks like he’s bracing himself just to ask it. 

“How, uh,” He’s trying to find the right wording, and you’ve never been able to relate to him harder than you do in this moment, “How… do you feel right now? How old?” 

How old? You don’t really like that question. As much as you like that you’re now getting attention, you’re starting to remember how little you actually enjoy this type of attention. The question is pretty vague, but at the same time so specific, and you’re almost ashamed to know exactly what the answer is. Or, at least, you would feel ashamed if there was room in your mind to feel so. 

“You said you feel small, right? Not like short small, just small?” He sounds more unsure of himself now, and you don’t think you like seeing him so reluctant to say something, “I looked up what it means to feel like that. Took some time, but I got to some person’s… website, and the person who wrote it was talkin’ about feeling like that. Something about regression, feeling a little bit younger than usual?” 

He’s being so awkward about it, and while you typically find his awkwardness funny, now it’s anything but that. 

“Uhm,” Your voice comes out as a mumble and you see Ghost perk up at it. You don’t know what to say. For a moment, you’re silent again, before you get over your embarrassment for a quick two seconds and force yourself to say, “Four.” 

“Four?” Ghost asks, before quickly realizing, “Right. Four. You feel four?” 

You nod, and your hands instinctively start moving back up to cover your face. Ghost swiftly grabs them, keeping his grip gentle as he keeps them from reaching your face. 

“Hey, don’t try to hide again,” He says, tone softening as he holds your hands, “everything’s fine, okay? Do you— what, uh— do you need me to do anything? Do you want me to leave you alo—”

“No!” You quickly answer, a little surprised by your own volume, before you clear your throat and answer in a much more quiet voice, “Don’t leave me alone.” 

“Okay, okay,” Ghost’s thumbs rub across the back of your hands, a soothing gesture that makes you the tiniest bit more relaxed, “what do you need?” 

You sniffle, and you can see an immediate look of panic cross Ghost’s eyes. You don’t know how well he is with crying children, and don’t want to impose such a situation on him, but you also can’t stop the tears that begin to well up in the corners of your eyes. 

“Hey, don’t cry,” He borderline begs, “everything’s gonna be okay, okay? Please do not cry. Take a deep breath.” 

You try to take a deep breath, you really do, but your breath just hitches and gets caught in your throat. It only makes you more distressed, adding to the urge you have to just disappear. Ghost notices your failed deep breathing and lets go of one of your hands, before taking the other and holding it to his chest.

You can just barely feel his heartbeat, his thick tactical vest and gear in the way of it, but you can still feel it. Ghost takes a deep breath, holding it for a second or two before slowly exhaling. 

“You copy me, okay?” He tells you, his words an order but his tone suggesting otherwise. He takes another deep breath, this time hoping you’ll follow his lead, and you do. 

You try to breathe with him, your hand on his chest helping, but your breath keeps getting caught in your throat. Ghost notices this, but continues his breathing anyway, hoping you’ll catch on soon. You do, thankfully—after a few more attempted breaths, you finally manage one almost identical to Ghost’s. The next few after that go similarly, and that’s when Ghost decides you’re alright to take your hand off of his chest. 

“I need you to tell me what to do,” He says, keeping your hand in his hold, “or at least tell me how all of this works. I want to help you.”

 You really don’t want to tell him what you need right now, but you also don’t think you have a choice. 

Wordlessly, you stand up from your seat, balance just slightly off-center before you quickly get your footing right. Ghost watches you, not moving, before you tug on his hand to try and urge him to get up as well. He obliges, getting up. 

“What—” You interrupt him by taking another step forward and letting your head thump right into his chest, ignoring the itchy uncomfortable feeling of his vest against your face. You don’t bother to wrap your arms around him to at least try and form some sort of hug, preferring to just smush yourself into him and hope for the best. 

After a moment of stunned silence, he wraps his arms around you. 

“You mind if we move behind my desk so I can look up some more stuff on all of this?” He asks, voice quiet, “Unless you want to just tell me?” 

“Desk,” You simply mumble into his vest, making him nod. 

“Alright, but you’re gonna have to stop hugging me for a second,” Ghost warns you. You reluctantly step away, and Ghost smiles softly down at you, bringing his hands away from your back and instead holding one of yours. 

He leads you behind his desk, and lets go of your hand before sitting down in his chair. Pausing, he quickly realizes you have nowhere to sit, and thinks for a moment before getting back up. He drags his chair just slightly to the side and looks back at you. 

“Sit down,” He nods to the chair, “It’s only gonna be a minute or two, alright?” 

You nod, hesitantly moving to sit in the chair, not really liking how far away from Ghost it is. It's not that far, You try to rationalize, I’m gonna be fine. 

Ghost can see your hesitation and tries to work as quickly as he can, grateful that he didn’t turn his computer off earlier, typing away on his keyboard. You don’t care to see what he’s looking up, more focused on looking at the time on his monitor. 21:44. 21:45. The time ticks by and even though it’s only been a few seconds you already want Ghost’s attention again. His attention has actually turned into good attention, and that’s the type of attention you’ve been craving for the past week. 

The clock reads 21:47 once Ghost is done, and he powers his monitor off this time, the small whirring the device makes dying down to a low hum before going completely silent. He turns to you, and somehow can sense that you need more attention. 

“Am I not paying enough attention to you?” He teases you, making you conflicted on whether you should be annoyed by the teasing or happy you’re finally getting attention. As if he can read your mind, he chuckles, and kneels down to your level. 

“I’m gonna give you as much attention as you need, alright?” He promises, “I just need you to stay in this room.” 

— 

Ghost watches you nod non-verbally, and it only adds to his softening expression. 

He’s always had a soft spot for kids. He knows that you aren’t technically a kid, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t still see you as one. You’re young for someone in the military, much less someone in this 141, and now that he’s found out that you’re an age regressor, that you’re a little—well, that doesn’t help how he sees you at all. 

He thinks that maybe the reason he has such a soft spot for kids is a few encounters he’s had with them in the past. He’s seen far too many in compromising positions while on missions; positions like being held hostage, being held as prisoner, or just generally being mistreated or even just living in bad conditions. 

He looks at you, and he just sees another one of those kids. 

He sees how you act around him. He’s not stupid. When he talks to you, you’re actually engaged in the conversation, compared to when anyone else tries to talk to you—maybe excluding Price, or Soap, or Gaz, heavy on that maybe—you’re more likely than not brushing them off every chance you get. You’re standoffish with everyone else, but with him, you’ll always accept any conversation he initiates. 

He can also see the way you look at him. It’s like you’re looking at your idol, or your savior, the way you look up at him. He can see that curious glint in your eyes when he tells you about a recent mission, or when he tells you anything, really. He can see when you try to mimic how he holds his weapons, and when you try to copy his techniques. 

He remembers catching you one day in the shooting range trying to mimic how he aims at the targets—looking through your scope with one eye closed, the other focused only on the dot centered on the scope, taking a deep breath in and out before shooting, and keeping the gun exactly like that even seconds after the shot’s been fired. 

In fact, the copying has gone from guns to melee weapons recently. Ghost swings only his forearm when he uses a knife, thumb resting on the very end of the knife’s handle, and entire arm stiff as he does. He does a slow windup when behind someone, a fast one on the off-chance that he’s in front, and buries the weapon to the hilt in whoever’s flesh he’s penetrated. He’s already seen you do the same on a recent mission. Not only that, but he caught you using a knife almost identical to his. 

And now, you’re still looking at him like that—except, different. Sort of like how a kid might look up to their parents. 

“What do you feel like doing, kiddo?” He asks, hoping the pet name isn’t too much. 

From the way your eyes light up, he suspects it isn't. 

“Mmm…” You hum, thinking for a moment, before requesting, “Coloring?” 

“Coloring, huh?” Ghost looks around for some blank paper and some sort of marker or pen thick enough to act as one, but can only find some highlighters. He turns to you, frowning, “Sorry, but I don’t think I have any paper, kid. Anything else you wanna do?”

You shake your head, and Ghost is just about ready to jump off of a bridge before you point to his arm and repeat, “Coloring.” 

He looks at his arm for a second, confused, before he remembers a conversation the two of you had a month or so ago. 

“If you ever wanna get tattoos, I know a guy in Brighton,” Ghost said, reclining his chair back so that he can lay down in it. You were sitting across from him in front of his desk, fiddling with one of his pens. 

“Good to know,” You hummed, “You have any tattoos?” 

“Yeah,” You perked up at his admission, and he sat up for a second to roll up the sleeve of his shirt. He wasn’t wearing his usual gear, only one of those standard issue army-green shirts. 

“Here,” He pointed to a large tattoo covering his whole arm like a sleeve, a few designs you could point out to yourself being a skull, a few Roman numerals, and some kind of scythe. 

“Very emo,” You commented, making Ghost snort, “I like it.” 

“I’m glad,” He rolled his sleeve back down. 

There’s a lot of blank space in the tattoo, despite it being a sleeve, and he can already tell that you mean you want to color in that space. He thinks about it for a moment, a fleeting thought of is that even safe? crossing his mind before he ultimately decides that he doesn’t care and would rather kill himself than see you disappointed because he denied your request, his own health be damned. 

“Alright,” He hums, grabbing a few highlighters from a mesh cup on his desk in the colors pink, yellow, and blue, “Go for it.” 

You give him a small smile and if he cared about if he’d get ink poisoning two seconds ago, he sure as hell doesn’t care now. You gingerly grab the highlighters from his hand, your grabbing not too secure and sort of clumsy but secure enough that the markers stay in your hand.

You hold them with both hands, and it makes Ghost realize how small your hands are—sure, you could hold the highlighters with one hand, but he’s glad you aren’t because now he can admire just how small you are as a whole. 

You set the yellow and blue down on his desk, making sure they don’t roll off for a moment before uncapping the pink and hesitantly holding out a hand for Ghost’s arm. He rolls up his sleeve and obediently holds out his arm for you, watching curiously as you press the cold tip of the highlighter to his skin. You’re starting by coloring in the skull a neon pink, much to his amusement, and you’re starting in the dead center of its forehead. 

You’re so much more quiet than you usually are when you’re little, and you’re so much more hesitant, it makes Ghost want to just wrap you in a blanket and keep you safe and in his sight forever. 

Your tongue slightly pokes out from between your lips as you concentrate on coloring in Ghost’s tattoo, making him grin beneath his mask. The ink of the highlighter doesn’t stay within the black bounds of his tattoos at all, but he doesn’t care one bit, and he doesn’t think you care either. You finish up the skull quickly, and move onto the scythe that’s right next to it, this time capping the pink highlighter and grabbing the yellow. 

Ghost is pretty sure this is gonna stain his skin for a day or two, but he couldn’t care less.

He can’t help but notice how much more relaxed you look in your regressed state. More at peace, he should say. There’s no longer a hunch in your shoulders, your eyes aren’t twitching from your headache, and you’re not bouncing your leg like you usually do when you’re sitting down somewhere. It’s like any anxieties you had pre-regression had evaporated, like slipping into a younger mentality had taken away most of your worries, if not all of them. 

He also can’t help but wish he could see you like this more often. Not necessarily the regressed part, but the relaxed part. Well, maybe the regressed part too. You’re being such a sweetheart right now, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to live through this experience. 

“You having fun there, darling?” Ghost asks, his grin evident in his voice. The corners of your lips quirk up at the pet name and you nod silently, and now Ghost is starting to think you’re actually trying to kill him. You’re being so uncharacteristically shy, and you’re being so quiet, and you’re just being so sweet. 

It seems you’ve moved onto the blue highlighter now, coloring in the last bit of his tattoo. He doesn’t think he’ll ever wash it off—or, at least, he wouldn’t if he had a choice. He knows that he has to shower sometime soon, but surely he can put that off for a bit, right?

Once you’re finished with your coloring, you cap the highlighter, and set it down next to the others you’ve discarded. You turn Ghost’s arm the tiniest bit towards him so that he can see your work better. 

“‘s it good?” You ask quietly, watching intently for Ghost’s reaction. He looks over your coloring job and hums approvingly. 

“It’s amazing, I love it,” He assures you, smiling down softly at you, “You did great.” 

You seem to preen at the praise, and you take your hand off of Ghost’s arm, moving to put in your lap. You’re keeping yourself very contained, Ghost notices, Why? 

He’s snapped out of his thoughts when he hears you yawn, and you quickly move to cover your mouth as you do. He’s reminded that it’s almost twenty-two hundred, and while that usually wouldn’t be an issue for him, it’s an issue for you. You originally came to the 141 as someone who had a sleep schedule almost as fucked up at Ghost’s, but soon developed a habit of going to sleep somewhat early considering the training you had in the morning. So, now you get tired anywhere from eighteen-hundred to twenty-one hundred. After that, your only goal is to find somewhere to sleep. 

“Sleepy?” You nod tiredly, making Ghost coo, Ghost, the man who quite literally haunts some people’s nightmares, coos at you, “Aw, of course you are, sweetheart. Pretty sure it’s way past your bedtime by now.” 

“Nuh uh,” You deny, making Ghost chuckle. 

“‘Nuh uh’?” He asks, amused, “What d’you mean ‘nuh uh’?” 

“No b’dtime,” You shortly elaborate. 

“Ohhh, okay,” Ghost feigns realization, “You think you’re too big for a bedtime, huh?” 

“Mhm. Way too big.”

“I dunno about ‘way’ too big,” Ghost hums, checking to see if the highlighter on his arm has dried before he pulls his sleeve back down. “You seem pretty little to me.” 

“No,” You whine, dragging out the ‘o’, “Not lil’.” 

“Hmm… you sure, kiddo?” Ghost asks, “So if I ask you if you need to go to bed, you’re gonna say ‘no’?” 

That makes you hesitate, and Ghost almost thinks he’s won, before your own pettiness wins and you nod affirmatively. He raises an eyebrow at you. 

“Alright, well, you’ve gotta sleep at some point,” He says, crossing his arms as he leans back in his chair. 

You think this over for a second, and he watches as you look over him for a moment before looking down at his lap, then looking back up at him. He can already tell there’s some sort of plan forming in your mind.  Wordlessly, you get up, and Ghost does nothing to stop you as you decide to just plop yourself down into his lap. You straddle his thighs, moving until you’re sitting comfortably on him, and then let yourself slump forward so that your face is resting in the crook of his neck. It takes him a moment to process what just happened, before he laughs lightly and wraps both of his arms around you to keep you in place. 

“Oh, okay,” He grins, resting his chin on your shoulder, “you just wanna cuddle with me until you fall asleep? Is that what this is?” 

He feels you nod against his neck, and his grin grows as he rubs one hand against your back, trying to soothe you to sleep. He doesn’t say anything else, not wanting to distract you from your attempts to sleep anymore, simply letting you stay slumped against him. Your breathing wasn’t too fast-paced to begin with, but as you relax even more in his arms, he can feel your breathing even out. 

You’re falling asleep fairly quickly, and the only complaint he has is that he didn’t get to spend nearly as much time as he wanted to with you while you were awake and regressed. 

Once he’s sure you’re barely awake, he murmurs, “You’re such a sweetheart, you know that?” 

— 

You don’t know how long it’s been since you fell asleep, but you’re woken up by the slight rustling of clothes, and then you feel yourself moving up. 

Your mind still feels foggy and you can tell you’re still somewhat in that younger mindset of yours, but now you’re significantly less bothered by it than you were before. You’re awake enough to be aware of what’s happening, always having been a light-sleeper, but not awake enough to know exactly what’s happening. You don’t dare open your eyes, and try to keep your breathing even—though that isn’t much of a challenge. 

That headache that had been building up earlier has fully disappeared, thank God, and you no longer feel the tension in your shoulder that you’d been unconsciously carrying. 

You can sort of feel someone’s arms snaked under your back, and you know that you’re being moved somewhere. Quickly, you remember that it’s Ghost carrying you, and that you had fallen asleep on him, much to your embarrassment. Or, at least, it would be much to your embarrassment if you had the mental capacity to feel embarrassed about that right now. But you feel so comfy and so safe that it really doesn’t matter to you right now. 

You can hear the clicking of Ghost’s boots against the concrete floors of the hallway, and he’s carrying you off somewhere; you imagine that somewhere to be your sleeping quarters. He’s walking pretty fast, not hurriedly but still at a somewhat fast pace. 

Soon, he reaches a stopping point where he has to awkwardly put one leg up to support your back on his thigh as he quickly reaches one arm out to turn the knob of the door to your sleeping quarters and pulls that arm right back to support your back again. He sighs as he puts his foot back down, kicking open the door and walking in. 

He’s quick to reach your bed, and he pauses as he considers what to do. You can practically hear him thinking, wondering how he’s gonna get you under the covers while he’s still carrying you, and for a second you think about showing him you’re awake so that things are easier for him before he sets you down on the bed. 

He pulls the covers up and stops when he reaches the part your body covers, and picks you back up, before dropping you right back off where the blankets have been pulled away. He pulls the covers back over you. 

After a few moments, you think he’s left the room, before you hear the rustling of fabric and feel him leaning down. He gently presses his lips to your forehead and pulls away after a second or two, before quietly mumbling, “Night, kiddo.”

He stays there for a moment before you hear his footsteps leave the room, and then the door clicking shut behind him as he leaves the room entirely. 

You’re quick to fall asleep after that.

[yelenasdiary]

Cute spooky spirt idea.

A Natasha x reader fic where reader isn't a huge fan of Halloween but nat love Halloween so she tries to get reader to enjoy it more. Probably fluff or something like that, just thought it was a neat idea.

-🌛

A Spooktacular Challenge

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Plus Size! Reader

Summary: Nat gets you to enjoy Halloween.

Fluff & Teeny Tiny Angst

Warnings: Brief mention of Body image insecurities | 1.4K

Translations: Detka (baby)

AC: Thank you for sending this! I decided to make this for all the curvy girlies out there, I hope that’s okay! Enjoy! x 

October Special Masterlist 2024

Your favorite album played softly in the background of the study while you added some finishing touches to a drawing you had been working on over the last few days. Since October had officially arrived, you made a list of different activities you could do to avoid having to involve yourself in the holiday. You had never been a fan of Halloween, the over-the-top costumes and children shrieking in joy followed by the overdone decorations that littered the neighborhood and not to mention the sudden jump in Halloween movies being promoted had definitely made Halloween at the bottom of the list of your favorite holidays. 

Natasha, your girlfriend on the other hand, loved Halloween. She lived for the spooky season with her love for horror movies, her sweet tooth, coming up with a different costume each year and handing out candy to those who knocked on the front door. You didn’t like to express too much of your dislike for Halloween around her, she was like a child herself when October arrived, but she knew you didn’t enjoy the holiday as much as she did. 

“Babe! I’m home!” You heard Natasha call out. A soft smile tugged at your lips at the sound of her voice, even after being together for three years she still managed to make you smile just by her voice. 

“In the study!” You called back, adding another line of detail to your drawing. 

Natasha opened the door, pushing it wide open with the bags of shopping she had in her hands before she dumped them at her feet, excited to show you everything she had brought. You placed your pencil down, away from your drawing before you spun around on the office chair to face your excited girlfriend whose smile was wide and bright. 

“You brought more decorations?” You asked with a cocked brow. Nat nodded proudly, “just a few more things to add to the display!” She replied before she reached down into one of the bags and pulled out a box that had an inflatable ghost inside, “the neighbourhood kids are going to love all this!” She boosted.

You watched as Nat pulled out more decorations, a skeleton cat in a laying position, a few skull battery operated candles, more fake cobwebs, some fake flying bats and two black cat light up Jack O' Lanterns. 

“I thought maybe we could put them up together” Nat said with begging eyes.

You chuckled at the thought, “sorry baby but Halloween is your thing, remember? Besides, you wouldn’t want me to help, I wouldn’t make it look very spooky”

Nat wandered over to you before leaning down and capturing your lips in a soft, deep kiss. “What about now?” She asked, causing you to smile against her lips. 

“Very sweet of you, my love, but still n-“ 

She cut you off with another kiss, this one longer. “pretty please?” Natasha begged sweetly. 

You sighed lightly, the smile on your lips not fading, “Fine, but I’m only helping because you’re so cute when you’re excited”

Natasha smiled once more, “That’s the spirit! We’re going to make this the best Halloween ever! I’m going to take these out the front, bring a coat! It’s a little chilly!” 

“I’ll be there in a moment” you replied. 

As you and Nat finished up some of the decorations for the front yard, you couldn’t help but admire the happiness that Natasha got whenever somebody wandered past and complimented on how wonderful and spooky the house looked. Kids pointed and commented which added to Nat’s Halloween excitement. 

Nat wrapped her arms around your soft waist, gently pulling you closer. “Thank you for all your help detka, I couldn’t have made all this look amazing without you” 

“Oh please! this was all you” you chuckled, brushing a lock of her red hair behind her ear, “it looks amazing darling, really” you added with a soft smile. 

“There is something I want to pitch to you” Nat said softly. 

“Pitch away”

“I know you don’t like Halloween, but I thought this year you and I could do something, together, just us” she started, “we could have a cozy Halloween movie night with our favorite snacks, We can hand out candy to the kids, and then, maybe we could dress up as something cute together?”

Your eyes slightly dropped, “Nat, come on” you sighed, “you know how I feel about dressing up” you reminded her. 

“I know darling, but I don’t want you to miss out on any fun, I would love to dress up with you and I promise, it’ll just be you, me and the kids that come knocking” 

“Do you promise it’ll just be us? No last-minute Halloween parties or guest coming over?” You asked, locking eyes with her. 

“I promise, just you and me” Nat replied, smiling softly before she kissed you. 

----

Halloween was here and Natasha was beaming with excitement. Part of you felt excited for the cozy night in with your lover but the other part of you just wanted Halloween to be over with already. Nat had already set the living room up with lit candles, throw blankets on the sofa, an untouched bowl of popcorn in the center of the coffee table complimented with hot cocoa along with a small bowl of candy and other snacks. 

Natasha was in the kitchen, finishing up the Halloween themed cupcakes she had just baked. She placed a few on a plate and added them to the coffee table of snacks. You couldn’t help but smile softly at her while her eyes traced over the living room with proudness, “everything is all set” she said. 

“All this looks amazing!” You complimented as you made your way to the sofa. 

“Thank you” she smiled, “but don’t get comfy yet! You’ve gotta get into your costume” she added with a playful wink. 

“Oh, right! yes, the costume…I’ll be right back” you replied, giving her an unsure smile before you wandered back to the bedroom. 

Your costume was already laid out on the bed, a white dress topped with a black leather jacket and a wig to finish the look. You almost hated that you weren’t going to be showing off your costume to others, especially when Nat helped you put everything together. 

The dress sat perfectly on your body, flowing nicely over your curves, you couldn’t wait to show Nat the costume in full. You threw the leather jacket on and wandered into the bathroom to put on the wig and apply some light make up to complete the costume. 

“Babe! I’m ready!” You called out before leaving the bathroom. 

Natasha in her colorfully striped long sleeved shirt and denim overalls and her red locks a mess, smiled lovingly as you gave her little twirl in your dress. “Well, well, miss tiffany, you look divine!” She complimented, causing you to chuckle lightly. 

“Thank you! You look very murderous!” You replied. 

“Don’t worry, you’re safe with me!” Nat winked just as the door-bell rang. “Our first trick or treats for the night!” She almost jumped with excitement. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” You asked, “we have candy to give out and movies to watch!” You added as you reached for Nat’s hand. The two of you walking towards the front door together, you grabbed a couple of candy bars for the children who smiled happily as Nat answered the door. 

“Trick or treat!” The two children in costumes sang in sync. 

“Wow! You guys have awesome costumes!” Nat smiled, “happy Halloween!” She added as you kindly dropped the candy in their treat bag. “You both look amazing” you smiled at them. 

“Thank you!” The children smiled before turning on their heels to return to their parents waiting patiently at the mailbox. 

Natasha closed the door and smiled at you once more, “See, that wasn’t so bad” she said. 

“I guess you’re right, Halloween can be fun. Did you see how big their smiles were?” You replied. Your words were like magic to Natasha as she gently wrapped her arms around you, “I knew one day I would get you to enjoy Halloween, and I think this year I won” 

“Calm down chucky, it’s only the start of the night!” You said teasingly before softly kissing her, “besides, I’m just doing all this for the cuddles and movies” you added with a playful wink. 

“Oh, I’m sure that’s true!” Natasha chuckled, “come on, let’s go start a movie” she added.

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[mvltisstuff]

HI!! i was wondering if you could do a buck fic to where they’re working at the 118 and he just randomly starts getting really needy - like arms wrapped around reader’s shoulders and walking (waddling rlly..) while still holding onto them. then like a cute little cuddle session at home where he talks abt how he wants to marry reader and just talks about the future.

THANK YOU!!!!!!

clean - e.b

summary: request

evan buckley x reader

gif from @housewifebuck

a/n: guys!!! i love this i can’t wait for a new buck in s7 :)) anyway, 1989 TV SO SOON GUYS WTF, it feels like yesterday was red tv 😧

the lightning had taken care of the other fires in buck. he was different, and he couldn’t tell if he hated it or loved it at first.

the man he was was reckless and like a shiny new toy for someone to play with. he allowed people to string him along and pull at his arms until he did what they wanted. it almost felt like his purpose, to be a prop for everyone else.

he thought y/n would leave him soon after the strike. everyone else liked to do the same thing. his parents giving up on him after his youthful mistakes, abby fleeing because he wasn’t enough for her, aly fearing her future with him. he thought y/n would crack under the pressure of almost losing someone like buck, now he hates himself for second guessing her.

he started to appreciate the smallest things in his girlfriend. the softness of her words, the light reflection of sun in her eyes, the cotton-like skin on her hands as they grazed over it. he almost didn’t want to face her after the accident, but she was clutching onto his hand when he woke up. and, there hasn’t been a day where she hasn’t reminded him that she’s going nowhere.

she knew bucks scars as she watched them all get handed to him. she knew how silently fragile he was. he could see it clearly in her as well, noticing each fear of hers and the love she’s pushed away. it was foreign to both of them, the tenderness of each other.

it’s been years since they began dating, and somehow every day is brand new with them. y/n doesn’t ever believe that buck has something to make up. but, he thinks so. he’s been spending years begging for love, and now he has it. now, he wants to show the world what he has after it tried to strip him of everything.

it doesn’t matter how long a shift was, when buck was back to work, every free moment was spent on her heels. he used to go through work, only looking around to see who maybe looked at him. now, he looks forward to see his girl waiting for him wherever he may be.

today was no different, y/n was stocking the engine full of brand new supplies from the new shipment. the trucks glazed red popped out from her perfect polishing on the sides.

“this truck looks almost as good as you,” buck whispers, placing his hand on the side of her waist, making her jump in place.

“and what are you supposed to be doing right now?” she teases back.

“taking it easy, like you and bobby told me!”

“so you come and flirt with your already girlfriend? professional hours baby, remember?”

“those are boring, though. i just want to take you home and never leave.” he sighs, placing his chin on her head.

“just a few more hours, i believe in you!” she encourages, making him smirk and land his lips on her cheek, running away like a little kid.

y/n stood with buck at the island of the kitchen, smelling over bobby’s new dishes that he had prepared for the team. he made several things for a feast amongst everyone, getting a well deserved break.

she could practically feel buck breathing on her neck as he peered over her shoulder. normally, someone doing that would be insufferable, but buck makes it seem normal. it makes her smile, knowing how close he always wishes to be.

“if i didn’t know any better i’d think you were conjoined twins.” chimney takes a turn at his own joke, trying not to laugh at himself. he gets a smile from y/n, but the fakest look you ever did see from buck.

“i’m gonna slap you and i hope it shocks you.” buck snaps back, half joking but also half annoyed as well. chimney takes his plate and scurries away.

buck makes two plates as y/n grabs them drinks from the fridge, moving over to place it in the seat next to her. before she can even think about sitting, buck slightly runs into her with his hip. he places the plates down perfectly on the mats before pulling her chair out. she gazes at him, noticing the cheesy grin on his lips. the team stops to notice his abruptness on pulling out her chair, and kissing her head as she sits.

as the dinner closes, and the sun dips lower, the calls come in slower. luckily, the shift is just ending, so it’s just buck and y/n left in the kitchen as she scrubs away at a bowl. he sneaks up behind her, grabbing a dish to dry from her.

“hi, honey,” he says, looking down at her.

“hi, buck,” she smiles back, noticing the excitement on his face just getting to be near her. “do you wanna talk?”

“about what?”

“i just want to make sure you’re okay, baby,” her kindness and concern comes through her angelic voice, buck almost getting distracted by the sound of her.

“i’m fine!” he replies. “just been thinkin’”

“we can talk about it if you’d like.”

“maybe later, i just can’t wait for us to go home together.” he dries the plate as y/n scoops them all up, buck wrapping his arms around her waist and tucking his face into her neck. he locks his fingers together and rests them on her belly. she just giggles, waddling over to the cabinet where she slides the dishes in. it would’ve been easier if she wasn’t like a tree to a sloth, but easier isn’t always for the best.

the car ride home in his truck was nothing less than romantic. his hand was rested on her thighs the whole time if it wasn’t on the gear shift or the wheel. she practically had to keep touching him somehow to make him keep his eyes on the road.

when the duo finally arrived at home, she looked over at buck and could tell how sleepy he was. his eyes told her everything, and she can read him like a book now that she’s admired him for so long. “hey, go shower and come back down here.”

buck agrees, taking a quick shower and changing into some more comfortable clothes. when he walks back down the stairs, he can smell the sweetener of his favorite tea wafting through the living room, as y/n sits down in her soft sweater and places the mugs on the couch. they’re matching LAFD mugs that y/n’s parents bought for them. she turned on reruns of new girl as she moved to grab a blanket from the basket, leaning against the arm of the couch.

“come on,” she sweetly curls his lips up at him, signaling for him to come lay with her. he happily obliges, going to sit between her legs on his side, the side of his face buried into y/n’s warm chest.

the tightness of her arms wrapped around him eases any weight of the day or stress on his body. he lets himself relax in her hold, knowing she’ll keep him safe from whatever might come his way next.

one of her arms is rubbing his back as the other cups his face as he appears to be intently watching the show, but he’s not.

he thinks of small y/n and buck mixes running around a small house in los angeles, the sun shining through the curtains early in the morning. he thinks of the smell of ice cream and the reflection of the moon on the windows as they get ready for bed. he thinks of a warm vacation with a shining rock on her ring finger.

“i can’t wait to see you in a big, white dress,” he mumbles into her shirt, smiling just at the thought of seeing her on a carpet, walking down an isle to greet him.

“what is going on in that mind of yours?” she teases, brushing her fingers through his hair.

“i just- i don’t want anyone else but you,” he begins. “you could’ve ran. you could’ve left me in the dark, but you didn’t. you’re the only person who hasn’t done that to me. i trust you, and i know you won’t. it’s my turn to show you that i’m here to stay, and that we’re forever.”

“listen,” she starts next, the clear adoration in her eyes. “i would lay on this couch, all day, every day, if it meant you’d come back to me. id do anything, and literally anything, to spend the rest of my life with you. im sorry for every other woman who can’t be with a man like you.”

he doesn’t know how to compete with sentences like that. it feels brand new, even though she tells him all the time. it feels different after the lightning strike. someone above tried so hard to ruin the best things he had going on, but he pulled through. he wants to think he’s strong on his own, but buck knows he wouldn’t be here if y/n wasn’t next to him. if she hasn’t picked up the pieces that everyone left behind, if she hadn’t taken the time to put him back together.

now, buck barely thinks of all the shit that’s happened to him. how could he, when the future is definite right in front of him? he used to just assume his life would be the same forever, but y/n’s flashlight guided him out of the cave he was in. he sleeps in her arms without a fear that she’ll disappear from him, and without a fear that things are out for him.

[talaok]

This is a Spencer Reid request. Can you make something out of the scene where Spencer was telling Derek about his story about being tied to a pole by the football team in high school, and the only one there for him is reader? Like they grew up geniuses together or something

Y’all have so many great ideas, I'm jealous.

Geniuses

"Garcia restored those emails," Derek said, entering the room.

"yeah, I'm sorting through them right now" Spencer was sat in front of the computer, quickly scanning through them,

He hadn't found anything yet, and the tension was quickly rising in his chest.

Derek sat on the bed behind him, the mattress creaking underneath his weight

"Reid" he called for him, making him turn "you know, you're not the only one who identifies with him," he said, "you said I was a high school jock," he shrugged " I was, but not at first. my freshman year I was 5' 3" he chuckled " I weighed a buck 20 soaking wet, so trust me when I tell you I got my ass kicked every day," he explained " so the following summer I hit the weights, and I got lucky, I grew six inches, but it was never about vanity Reid, it was about survival"

spencer cleared his throat, maybe he had judged him too quickly.

"I was in the library and, uh-" Spencer started recalling " harper Hillman comes up to me and she tells me that Alexa Lisbon wants to meet me behind the fieldhouse," he told "Alexa Lisbon's like, easily the prettiest girl in school"

"so what happened, Alexa wasn't there?"

Spencer's eyes saddened.

For how much he had tried to forget all of this, all the wrongs and painful things people had done to him, it was impossible.

he still felt like that kid at times, that scared defenseless kid who couldn't do anything but accept what was done to him,

He often thought that maybe that's all he was ever going to be, a tall child, his height diffrent, but him the same.

"no she was there," his lips thinned into a bitter smile " so was the entire football team. They stripped me naked and tied me to a goal post" he had to stop a moment "so many kids were there, you know, just watching"

He could still see them,

he could still hear their manic laughs,

and he could still remember that feeling, that feeling of being completely impotent, pathetic, of being nothing.

"Nobody tried to stop them?"

A spark ignited in his eyes, y/n's face blessing his mind.

"There was one person"

"Who?"

"y/n," he smiled "Y/n Y/ln" his smile only got wider as he remembered you on that day, your sweet voice cracking as you yelled at them, begging them to stop, trying to let them understand what they were doing, that it was a human being they were humiliating "she tried" his smile got sad "She always did"

"but nobody listened"

Derek shook his head, a deep sigh fleeing his mouth

"We were the youngest people there you know?" he explained "she had skipped three years, like me" he chuckled "We made a pact the moment we met, we told each other that no matter what, we weren't gonna give up, we weren't gonna let them win" he laughed softly "she always used to say- no matter what happens, you keep your head high, only that way you'll see the finish line-"

Derek smiled too now

"she's the only reason I survived" he confessed "she's the reason I'm here"

"she seems great"

"she is"

"Where is she now?" he asked "we could use another genius on the team"

Spencer laughed "She's a teacher," he said "she's helping people like us"

"she's changing things from within"

"Well I'm glad she was there Reid" Derek patted his shoulder

"So am I"

he beamed

So am I.

[yutasbellybuttonpiercing]

- canine, but mine (pt. 1: acquaintances)

pairing: huang renjun x reader

au/genre: hybrid!au, fox hybrid!renjun, human!reader, virgin!renjun, smut, fluff, angst (?), the au is kinda unserious

don't like it, don't read it, okay... *sighs*

also, don't publicly shame me for any inaccuracies. i admittedly do not ready many (read: any) hybrid fics...

word count: 2860 words

warnings: HYBRIDS!, bullying, comforting, petting (not the sexual kind), semi-public diddling, mentions of virginity, cumming untouched, the base of renjun's tail is very sensitive......., sub!renjun ig

a/n: happy renjun day! 🦊

taglist: @jaeminnanaaa17 @i6renj

Ever since Renjun remembers, life has not been kind to him. Born not out of love between two people, but created in a laboratory for scientific research purposes, born not to be a part of society, but as an experiment for a potential weapon; part animal, part human, but not really part of either of those worlds.

Only after hybrid-rights-protests forced the government to take action against hybrid experiments, he was freed; free, but not really free, because that he'll never be. Instead, unloved by his creators that he could never bring himself to call parents, he continued growing up in a foster home, surrounded by kids that were nothing like him, kids that looked different than him, and kids that did not believe in the concept of "thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself". The days he was not kicked by them, he was at least laughed at, mocked, or judged.

Renjun, objectively, knows that it's not his fault that he looks different, that he is different. He was just born, or rather: brought to life, with a set of orange fox-like ears on top of his fluffy, brown hair, a soft, bushy tail, tiny little fangs, and claws that he always keeps neatly trimmed to not accidentally hurt anyone.

The bullying did not stop when he started going to school, nor did it lessen the older he got. Kids are mean, Renjun knows that by heart, and he's never even had a friend. When he was 14, the girls in his class dared each other who would be brave enough to "kiss the freak", when he was 16, people started inviting him on dates only to laugh at him with their friends when he showed up all excited, and when he finally finished school and started going to university, he thought it would all be different. To be fair, he was no longer pushed into lockers, he was no longer spat at and people stopped pulling at his tail for fun, but the mocking did not stop. And even when he met another hybrid, a popular, big white tiger hybrid, he didn't receive any sympathy. God how he wishes to at least be a cool, strong hybrid, like a lion or a bear... or even a wolf! Why did they have to make him a stupid fox...

Ever since that day, he's told himself one thing: you're going to work hard, get through university and get a good job in the big city... where there are lots of hybrids and lots of supporters.

At this point, Renjun is fairly used to the bullying. With his goal in mind, he doesn't fight it, he just lowers his head, his ears laying flat against his fluffy hair as he waits for it to be over. He guesses that people are just not ready for hybrids yet.

One can only imagine his upmost shock when on the first day of the new semester, someone willingly sat down next to him. Admittedly, you were 5 minutes late and there were no other seats available, but you didn't beg anyone to please scoot over just so you didn't have to sit next to the weird guy with the tail. Renjun vividly remembers this day in philosophy class, as the professor went on and on about Henri Bergson and how the sand wasp instinctively knows where to sting the caterpillar to paralyze it, while Renjun was just smitten by the girl sitting next to him without gagging.

Unable to talk to you, he was just sitting there, smiling shyly to himself at this small act that seemed so big to him. He remembers almost falling off his chair in shock as you "psst!"-ed at him and awkwardly asked for a pen since you forgot yours. He remembers having to pinch himself as you smiled and thanked him, and told him you thought his shirt was cute. He remembers looking around in case you weren't really talking to him as you said, "see you next week!"

And when in the following weeks, you kept sitting down next to him even though there were other seats available, he was almost sure this had to be a dream. But it wasn't, and when during the third lesson, you softly asked for his name, he was this close to bursting into tears.

A few weeks into the semester, Renjun is currently sitting at the library, trying to memorize the different forms of utilitarianism. As always, he's sitting in a separate study room that he booked just for himself – a precautious attempt to not get made fun of as he's trying to concentrate. He crosses out his second attempt of trying to spell deontology correctly as he notices someone passing by the glass door to his study room. A moment later, the person backs up and looks inside, and he realizes it's you.

His heart stops for a moment as you begin smiling and waving at him, and he slowly lifts his hand to mimic the action hesitantly. Of course, you take that as an invitation to come in.

You close the door after slipping inside, still talking in a low tone as not to disturb anyone outside.

"Hey~" you say and sit down across from Renjun. He smiles and bites his lip nervously, "hey."

"You here all alone?" You ask softly, "is it okay if I sit with you?"

Renjun blushes. He knows you didn't think anything of it, but mentioning his lack of acquaintances is a bit of a sore spot for him.

"Sure... if you want," he says shyly, still not completely trusting that you're not going to turn this all around and make fun of him.

"Only if it doesn't bother you," you smile, "I'll be super quiet, promise!"

His smile is getting more genuine as you talk so casually to him. He just starts feeling a bit more comfortable, when sudden movements in front of the glass door make his head lift up.

A group of guys is standing there, pressing their faces against the door, clearly mocking his fox ears with their hands behind their heads. His heart sinks, he should've known this was going to happen today, it always happens when he's out in public.

"What-" you ask, noticing the pained look on his face and the way his ears are pointing down as he feels a wave of shame overcome him. You turn around, taking in the group of guys who're still silently making fun of the fox hybrid. "What the fuck..."

Renjun's ears twitch in surprise as you stand up, and he waits anxiously for what's about to happen. You rip open the glass door, lifting your finger into their face before speaking to them, hushed but still loud enough for a few people to lift their heads. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Did your mom not teach you manners? You should be ashamed of yourselves, you're university students, cut the crap with your preschool bullying, you fucking assholes," you tell them, and Renjun's eyes widen comically. You... you're standing up for him? For him?!

"If I see you doing this one more time, I'll get you kicked off campus... Now go back to being worthless idiots somewhere else. Leave him alone, I swear to God..." you say before closing the door, flipping them off, pulling down the blinds, and heading back to Renjun. To Renjun's upmost surprise, the guys actually left, and looking embarrassed at that, possibly because you just made one hell of a scene – and it's probably the sexiest thing Renjun's ever witnessed.

You sit down again, this time next to him. "You okay?"

Renjun breathes out shakily, ears twitching, tail swaying back and forth nervously. He's not sure what to make of this, someone standing up for him, it has never happened to him before. And before he can stop himself, he blurts out the question he's been asking himself since the moment your ass cheeks touched the surface of the chair next to him in that first philosophy lesson. "Why are you so nice to me?"

You halt, furrowing your brows. "Why wouldn't I be?"

He seems even more confused by that answer. "Um... You know, I'm a hybrid? Maybe you find that weird?"

You blink at him, "why is that weird?"

"Don't you... think I'm weird?" He asks. "Odd? Repelling? Freaky? Off-putting?? Anything???" He keeps listing adjectives as you keep shaking your head no. "Why... would you stand up for me?"

"I just don't like bullies," you state nonchalantly, "plus you're really cute."

Renjun's eyes bulge out of their sockets, tail curling up so suddenly that he feels like he's almost broken something in there. Maybe you're an animal friend, maybe that's all he is to you? "Cute? Like the fox parts or...?"

"Everything about you is cute. The fox parts are cute, but you'd still be cute without them."

Renjun just stares at you. This can't be real. He pinches the palm of his hand several times without you noticing, but he's just not waking up. If this is a dream, which he's almost certain it has to be, he could do anything he wants right now... like making your head explode- just to be sure! He concentrates greatly on it, but your head stays intact. He gives up. "You're not disgusted?"

"What?!" You look utterly confused, then your features soften into a look of concern. "Are people... usually disgusted by you?"

He nods without hesitation. "Usually, they just point and laugh, sometimes it even gets worse than that..." Renjun can't even bring himself to cringe as you put on a brave expression and tell him you're going to protect him from now on, because this is honestly the best thing that's ever happened to him. His heart melts at your words and it's hard to believe he's actually being comforted. There are no jokes being thrown around, no mockery, not even any pity. For once, Renjun feels like there's someone who wants to protect him. His lower lip quivers slightly as he holds back tears, and without thinking, he leans forward and places his head on your shoulder.

He hears you coo quietly, lifting your hand to his back and pulling him closer. "Is... is it okay if I stroke your hair?"

Renjun closes his eyes and nods. The warmth of the hug is comforting, the touch of your hands is gentle and soothing. His tension quickly dies down as he melts against you as he realizes that he has never felt like this before. And as you begin gently scratching and massaging his scalp, his ears begin twitching and relaxing at the feeling of your nimble fingers. He tries to hide the innocent pleasure that's shooting though his body, not sure if you would think it's odd, but his heartbeat is increasing rapidly. Your fingers feel like magic as they brush against his ears and scratch the base of his scalp. Suddenly a little too unhinged for his liking, he begins purring and nuzzling your neck, enjoying every single bit of your touch.

"God, you're adorable..." you say softly, making sure to pet him behind his ears and Renjun's entire body fizzles with pleasure at the feeling. As if it has a mind of its own, his tail curls around your legs. "Is this okay? Have you ever been pet like this?"

Renjun hums in delight, "I've always dreamed about getting pet like this..." Your fingers begin gently playing with his ears. At first, they twitch nervously, but soon, he relaxes into the touch. He notes that his ears are very sensitive when being touched by someone else that isn't himself, and he loves the sensation.

"They're so soft... I could pet you like this all day," you say softly, making Renjun smile.

"Do you...," he hesitates for a bit, "want to touch my tail too? It's even softer..."

"Do you want me to?"

Renjun nods shyly, lifting his tail a bit for easy access. The moment your fingers begin brushing over his fur, he shivers, whimpering slightly. Every other time, whenever someone's touched his tail before, it was rough and mean, but the way you oh so gently run your fingers through his fur makes him almost lightheaded.

"Your fur is so soft...," you whisper and he hums in response, eyes already closed as he gets lost in the feeling. His tail makes small circles behind your leg when you brush over the fur, he whimpers softly as your fingers move further up towards the base of his tail.

Your fingers feel so good, unlike anything he's ever felt before. He keeps questioning if this is love, or if this is what it feels like when someone really cares, but all he knows is that he craves more and more of this all consuming feeling, when suddenly, he lets out a short, loud moan. The tips of your fingers have unknowingly reached the base of his tail, causing a jolt of pure, white, hot pleasure to shoot through his body.

Shamefully, he buries himself into your shoulder, his tail curling around your leg. He's mortified as your movements pause for a second, he's sure he's messed up now, but then your scratching picks up again and he breathes out shakily, body twitching at the feeling.

You keep going and going, and he begins moaning softly.

"Is this still okay for you?" The softness of your voice makes his heart melt.

"Mhm..." is all he is able to bring out at the overwhelming sensation of being touched there for the first time.

"Have you been touched here before?"

"N-never..." Renjun whines softly. He's feeling himself harden in his pants, cock straining against the fabric of his jeans and he's sure you noticed.

"Are you a virgin, Renjun?"

The question catches him off guard, but honestly, he's too far gone now to feel shy about it. It seems that you have picked up on how sensitive he is, and he can't really blame you for your assumption. You seem so open and accepting of him that he doesn't even hesitate before slightly nodding his head, "yeah..."

"And you're sure that you want to experience... this with me?"

The feeling of your fingers on his tail intensifies with every second, Renjun feels dizzy, there's barely any blood left in his brain at this point, all of it damming up in his cock and every other sensible part of his body. "yes.. yes...!"

It seems like this is all you needed to hear to speed up your movement, fingertips scratching and petting him in the most arousing way possible, forcing whimpers and moans from his mouth. "Aahh... Ah..." He tries to hold back, but the sensation is too much for him. Your touch is too nice and it's making him lose control as he bites his lip to keep himself from letting out a vocal response, but it's not enough. He's starting to tremble, breath getting heavier as he begins panting harshly. This sensation surely feels very close to how he feels when he's about to cum.

And just the attentive person you are, you speak up about it. "Are you gonna...?"

"I... Aahh... I think so..." He says, his voice shaking as he speaks. "It feels so nice..."

Experimentally, you move your fingers to the underside of his tail, and Renjun's body jolts in pleasure, his whole body jerks as he moans out, mouth slightly open while keeping his voice down as much as possible given your current location. He reaches up and grabs your wrist to make you keep touching him there. "Please..." He says in a thoroughly pleading voice. "Don't stop.."

As he forces his eyes to open, he notices your eyes on him, your face so close to his, and his eyes inevitably dart down to your lips as he gasps for more.

Of course, you take it as an invitation to kiss him, and as soon as your soft lips merge with his, Renjun knows that he's going to cum. He feels like he's actually going to faint as the pleasure reaches new heights, your kiss building the tension up and up, his head spins as he feels himself tighten up.

Your movements quickly send him over the edge. The intensity of the sensation is making his body shudder as he pulls you closer toward him and he lets himself go, muscles tightening even further as he releases into his pants with a high-pitched moan.

Your hands carefully stroke over his tail again, your unoccupied hand coming back up to his hair to help him calm down. He's breathing heavily, body feeling fuzzy inside at the attention and from his intense release. "O-oh, God..."

"That was so hot...," you whisper, gently kissing the top of his head. He lets out a soft giggle. You successfully have made him blush once again. But just as he's really, fully calming down, he inevitably notices the sticky feeling between his thighs and cringes.

You chuckle softly as you notice the look on his face. "Maybe we should get you to a restroom..."

© 2024 YUTASBELLYBUTTONPIERCING all rights reserved — please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works.

[gatoru]

are there still beautiful things? || natsuo todoroki x reader

synopsis/content warnings: natsuo finds himself coming back to you in times of need. after all, you’ve been doing it for over a decade. (childhood friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, domestic love, SMUT; heavy dirty talking, unprotected sex, breeding kink if you squint, natsuo is a bit posessive lol, yan!natsuo during dirty talk, idiots in love, not beta read we die like men)

wc: 3k

author's note: i wrote this as a gift for my dear friend @strawberrystepmom ! thank you so much for inspiring me, talking to me and being there for me. i wanted to show you that i really appreciated you :) <3 hope u like it

Natsuo has a habit. 

Such a habit consists of knocking at your door, usually late at night – desperate, big eyes begging for help. He’s been doing it for years, ever since he was merely a lost kid. This time, his head is down and he won’t seem to fully look into your eyes.

“I didn’t know where else to go.” Todoroki breaks the silence, shaky voice leaving his chest with force. 

Truth be told, you knew he’d show up at your small apartment as soon as the news broke, as soon as you saw the scarred man on the television proclaiming to be one of the Todorokis.

Touya. 

You let him in – of course you do. There’s nothing in the world that would stop you from letting Natsuo in your home, and in your heart. 

“Is it true?” 

Your question seems to cut the tension in the air, as a knife ripping the thickness apart. Context isn’t needed: the white haired boy – man – is still staring at the coffee mug you handed him moments earlier. You’re past the point of asking how he likes his coffee, black and no sugar, thank you very much. 

“No. Yes.” He finally looks up at you, dark gray eyes looking for an answer. “I… I have no idea.”

There’s silence once more - only this time, it isn’t thick with tension. It’s still heavy, with a hint of sadness. There’s only so much to be said about a dead brother coming back to life, and becoming evil. Still, you’ve known Natsuo long enough to know what he’s thinking. 

“Touya was dead.”

You uncross your arms, taking your mug from the coffee table in front you. The coffee was running cold already. 

Natsuo is still staring at you. You can’t help but notice there’s a certain resemblance between him and his father – his nose and eyes belong to his mother, yes, but the rest? It 's all Enji. 

You can’t imagine how he feels. 

“Natsuo…” You whisper his name, placing a gentle palm over his hand. “I don’t know what to say.”

He nods, recognizing your truthness. He sighs – a tired one, and exhausted one. 

“I don’t think there’s a lot to be said.” His confession lifts a weight from your chest, and you’re glad you didn’t close your fist around something so delicate. “Just… I don’t wanna go home.”

It’s your turn to nod, knowing exactly what he means. 

-

The first time Natsuo showed up at your door, you were merely kids. 

Your mother answered. immediately recognizing him as one of the Todorokis that lived down the street. Years later, she would tell you the truth: his household was hell on earth. But, again, it wouldn’t take the brightest mind to notice that. 

You were both seven. Or he was eight, maybe. You don’t remember all the details.

However, you do remember the dynamic: he’d come knocking at your door whenever things got rough at home. Your mom would feed him, you’d play video games together, and he’d get a chance at a normal life – even if only for a few hours. 

“Do you wanna play pirates?” You’d ask, a toothless grin plastered on your face. 

Natsuo would smile – as big as he knew how to.

“Yeah.”

-

Needless to say, you didn’t have to show him the guest room. He knows his way around.

You lean against the door frame as he takes his jacket off, throwing it on the chair besides the bed. He doesn’t look out of place, strangely so. The 6’3 man doesn’t look uncomfortable. As a matter of fact, you’ve never seen him look so at home before. 

“Want me to order take out?” He asks, fishing his phone out of his backpack. 

“Only if you’re craving something. Was thinking we’d cook something simple.”

He frowns, gray eyebrows knitting together. 

“If you think I’m staying at your place and let you cook for me, you’re out of your mind.”

“Technically,” You hold a finger up, getting closer to him. “It’s for us.”

He scoffs, mainly in amusement. 

“Absolutely not. My mother would have my head at the sheer disrespect.” 

You chuckle, although not missing the shadow that crosses his eyes at the mention of his mother. 

“Fine. Whatever makes you happy.”

-

“How come I’ve known you for almost 15 years and you still suck at Mario Kart?” He asks, in pure disbelief at your 8th position. 

“It’s hard!” You cry, failing at avoiding another green turtle shell an NPC threw in your direction. The pink car stumbles once again. Peach has always sucked, anyway. 

Natsuo finishes the race in first place, as you see Yoshi celebrate on the top of the screen

“You suck.” He adds, chugging at his can of diet coke and giving you a smirk.

You have to actively avoid acknowledging the butterflies rebelling in your stomach. 

“And you’re mean.”

There’s a hint of playfulness in your tone. He takes the controller from your hand, getting closer to you. He’s so big and warm… so inviting.

“Cry about it.”

Despite the mocking, he finishes the race for you.

-

The first person to defend you from monsters was Natsuo. 

Well, not actual monsters – more like shitty 5th grade bullies. 

The whole playground saw it. An older kid – although the same size as Natsuo – tried to steal one of your toys. The white haired boy puffed his chest, and displayed the meanest face he could. Much like his dad.

“Give it back!” You screamed at the older kid. 

Natsuo, however, didn’t ask. no, he punched the kid. Right in the stomach.

You remember gasping in surprise, but gladly taking your toy back. No one’s ever messed with you again.

It’s only fair you do the same to him every now and then. 

-

“It’s getting late.” You notice, turning the television off. 

“Yeah.” Natsuo gets up from your worn out sofa, towering over you. “I’m heading to bed.”

“Need an extra blanket or something?”

“Nah, I’m good.” He walks towards the bedroom door, turning on his heels halfway there.

“Uh… thanks for letting me stay, by the way. Really means a lot.”

You smile at him. He smiles back.

“Anytime, Natsuo. Knock on my door if you need anything.”

He nods, excusing himself. 

-

Unsurprisingly, Todoroki knocks on your bedroom door a little after one in the morning. 

“Natsuo?” You whisper, sitting up in your bed, still hazy from sleep.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispers from the half-opened door, an apologetic look on his face. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Come in.”

He does, gently closing the door after him. 

-

You barely notice the routine established by you and Natsuo.

It’s been a few days since he first came to your place.He didn’t leave – and it’s now like you wanted him too. Having him around is nice. Better than nice. You don’t wanna name what you’re currently feeling.

“I’m home!” He announces loudly, and you almost jump from your spot at the table. Your eyes scan him up and down. 

“Natsuo, what’s all this?” You ask, a hint of curiosity in your voice. 

He lets the paper bags on top of the counter, sighing happily at the sight.

“Went grocery shopping after visiting my dad at the hospital.”

Your shock doesn’t seem to go unnoticed by him, although he doesn’t seem to be in the mood to acknowledge it. Your eyes drift back to the laptop in front of you. 

“Nice.” It’s all you can come up with. 

“Got you your favorite chocolate, by the way.”

-

It’s been two weeks, and Natsuo doesn’t stay in the guest room anymore. 

No, he stays with you. His giant figure can’t possibly be comfortable in your not-so-large bed, but you don’t have the heart to inquire about that. 

“G’night.” He mumbles, curling up beside you. 

“Night, Natsuo.” You whisper back, your words getting softly lost in the darkness. 

Natsuo smells like mint and something fiery. It’s fresh, it screams his name. His white locks gently frame his face, looking like a layer of now. His lips seem soft, plushy and pink. 

Natsuo is sleeping right beside you when you finally name what’s going on with the two of you, although only for you to know. 

It’s love.

Sleepingly, he wraps an arm around you. Despite such surprise, you nuzzle your face in his chest. 

You both sleep the whole night, peacefully – for the first time in a while. 

-

There’s only so much he can hide from Fuyumi, he thinks. 

“Did you officially move out?” His sister shows up in his room – his actual room, at the Todoroki household – as he’s packing another bag. The white room seems empty, soulless. 

Natsuo is taken by surprise. Of course, it didn’t seem like that to him. 

“Uh…” He scratches the back of his neck, avoiding all eye contact. Fuyumi’s eyes look for his, behind thick glasses. She leans against the doorframe. 

“Are you staying at ____’s?”

He nods.

“Good. It’s good to at least know you’re safe.”

Natsuo blushes at his sister’s words, warmth blooming on his cheeks.

“Tell her I said hi.”

With that, Fuyumi leaves him alone.

-

At the dinner table – with food that isn’t take out, cooked by the both of you – Natsuo gets himself looking at you.

Your eyes glistening and your hands moving rapidly as you talk about your day.

His heart swells on his chest when you start speaking about something you love – something related to work, something he can’t quite understand. 

Natsuo realizes he loves you and almost chokes on homemade soba. 

-

That night, when you start your bedtime routine, Natsuo breaks the silence. 

“I…” He starts to speak, and you look at him through his reflection in the bathroom mirror, applying nighttime moisturizer on your face, in gentle circles. 

“Yeah?” You encourage him to actually start speaking, moving your hands like a fan in order to dry the products on your skin.

“I love you, _____.”

You turn around, like a deer caught in headlights.

“Natsuo…” you say his name, like a thousand times before, only this time it feels different.

“I do. Always have, I think. Ever since we were kids. I love you.” He completes, taking a strand of hair from your face. You look at him, incredulous. “I’m not asking for you to love me back, by the way. I just wanted to let you know that I do.”

He’s comfortable with just loving you.

The words seem to come back to you at such an insult. 

“I’m in love with you too, idiot.”

He seems shocked at such revelation, and a stubborn smile starts to blossom on his lips. His eyes seem different now. 

“You do?”

“Natsuo.” You whisper his name again. ��I’ve loved you ever since you asked if I wanted to play pirates.”

He bites his lips, grabbing your waist gently. 

“Yeah? What about all the boyfriends? All the other crushes?”

You figure what the hint in his irises mean.

Possessiveness. 

Natsuo towers over you, and it makes your stomach do flips. You mumble something, and he brings you closer.

“Sorry, couldn’t hear that.”

“Was trying to distract myself. From you.”

He smirks, gray eyes becoming wolf like. 

“Yeah, but I’m here now. And if you think I’m letting you go, you’re fucking insane.”

Your lips crash into his; desire traveling through your veins.Your tongues dance against each other, slowly and curious to taste each other. Your breath hitches in your throat as he bites your lower lip, sensually.

“Bedroom?” You whisper against his lips, in between pecs. He nods, smiling against your lips.

-

Natsuo’s shirt and your pajama bottoms get discarded somewhere from the bathroom to your bed. 

Your nails gently scratch his abs, earning a reaction from him. His hips jerk against yours, and you bite back a moan. He looks at you adoringly, passionately. Your heart explodes in fireworks. All the movies and poems, books and songs about love make sense now. 

“So pretty.” He mumbles against your neck, placing open mouthed kisses on your sensitive skin. 

Natsuo takes his shirt off while your hands discover his body, reaching his gray sweatpants. The volume behind the soft fabric makes you smile, devilishly so.You gently grab his erection, playing with him a little, in order to discover more of his pretty sounds. 

He groans, grinding his hips against you. 

“You’re evil. You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Whatever leverage you thought you had is gone once he takes his bottoms off, as his dick gloriously stands against his abdomen, with heavy balls hanging below it. Your mouth slightly falls agape at his thickness as he gently strokes his cock. 

Natsuo finally removes your panties, slowly. He’s taking his sweet time with you, despite your constant squirming and whines. 

“You know,” He whispers, husky voice sending a shot of desire right to your core. “when we graduated high school and you told me you lost your V card to some jackass, I tried my best not to go after the bastard. After all, it wasn’t my right to.”

His fingers ghost over your now exposed pussy, feeling your sticky wetness. 

“And before that, you confessed to me how you’d use the showerhead to finish, cause your fingers couldn’t do it. They’re not thick or long enough. Can’t reach all the right places, right?”

You nod, eating his words up. Slowly, your hips start to move against his hand, but Natsuo seems to not be having any of that. He places a strong hand on your waist, holding you down. He doesn’t need words to make you obey him. 

“I wonder if mine can?” He asks, pushing a single finger inside of your gummy walls. Whining, you throw your head back due to his unsatisfactory rhythm. He pushes the digit in and out, curving his finger a bit. 

“What, baby?” He purrs, swallowing your moans with open-mouthed kisses. “What d’you want?”

A bubble of warmth starts to bloom on your lower abdomen, sending a white-hot feeling through your entire body. There’s sweat, there’s spit, there's desire. You feel like your body might combust at any given moment. 

“More, please. Need more.” You manage to babble, eyes getting glossy over the neediness. 

He obliges your wishes, shoving another finger into your needy cunt.

“Fuck baby, yo’ure so fucking sexy. ‘ve been dreaming about this for so long.” He confesses, shortly after sucking a love bite on your collarbone. 

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, feeling your pussy clench on his thick fingers. Right as you feel the tension start to explode inside of you, he removes his digits.

“Natsuo!” You cry, in a needy way. “C’mon, please.”

You’re not even sure what you’re asking for anymore. He smiles at you, sickeningly sweet. His white hair glues against his forehead, messy silver locks. Natsuo’s face is flushed with desire, a light shade of pink decorating his cheeks. 

“Want my cock, baby? Huh? Want this as much as I do?” His clean fingers gently hold your jaw open, as he places the stained ones on your mouth. You suck on them, tasting yourself and making such dirty sounds that make him grunt. 

“Yes, please. Want your cock inside me. Want you to fuck me, Natsuo” You beg, mumbling through his fingers. “Make me yours.”

The last words seem to fire a light inside of him, as he smiles at you wolfishly. Natsuo grabs his erection, teasing the tip on your wet entrance. You give him a fucked out smile, softly moaning at his actions. 

“You’re such a tease, _____. I’ve been fantasizing about your sweet, tight pussy forever.” He groans, finally pushing his fat cock inside of you. It stretches you in the most delicious way, hitting spots you’ve never reached before — nor your or anyone else. 

He grabs your legs, folding them against your chest, and you whine at the new found angle. It’s so deep, he’s so big. It’s overwhelming.

“Fuck, Natsuo! So good, so fucking good.”

He makes a strangled noise in return, picking up the rhythm. The slapping sound of his balls against you is filthy, and it only adds to the feeling. Natsuo – who’s usually very well composed and controlled, looks wild and predatory. 

“Yeah, am I fucking you good baby? Am I fucking you dumb, so dumb you can’t even talk properly?”

You whine, only nodding in response. The bubble of warmth starts to grow on your abdomen again.

“Fuck, fuck.” He groans. “Are you on the pill?”

Rapidly, you nod, silently consenting what you know he’s actually asking for.

“Gonna feel you up so good, baby. Gonna make you mine.” He places a couple of digits against your puffy clit, rubbing them in circles, and you cry even louder. 

“Cum for me, baby. Can feel you clenching down on me. Go ‘head, I got ya.”

You feel the Earth stutter on its axis as a white hot feeling explodes on your tummy, making your legs shake. Waves of fire travel through your entire body, as your vision slightly fades to black. You can feel Natsuo spill inside of you, with a groan of your name against your ear. 

You stay like this, for a moment, lost in blissful silence. Hissing, he removes his now soft dick from inside of you, his cum spilling out. Slowly, your breathing comes back to normal and you sit up, finding your lover with a wet cloth on his hands. 

Gently, in between soft kisses and praises of “you did so good for me” and “love you, love you so much”, he cleans you up, just enough so you won’t be too uncomfortable before summoning the energy to go shower with him. 

“I love you.” You whisper.

“I love you too.”

Natsuo looks at you, adoringly, slowly taking in the fact that you’re his. The only thing he’s ever chosen in life, the only thing that actually belongs to him, he won’t have to share. 

He smiles at the feeling. 

“Mine.” He whispers, before kissing you one more time. “Now let’s take a shower, stinky.”

[silverstar-1117]

xo, lover boy - chapter 1

˙⋆✮ Hyunjin x Actress Fem!Oc

˙⋆✮ ˙⋆✮ Summary; When Hyunjin gets introduced to Changbin & Chaeryeong’s childhood friend things seem to turn into his own little romance drama right before his eyes. He finds his dream girl and can only hope to be her dream boy.

˙⋆✮ ˙⋆✮ ˙⋆✮ Warnings; female oc as reader, slight angst, pining (slightly one sided), Hyunjin is a simp, mostly fluff

Hyunjin opened the front door of his shared dorm with Changbin, hearing the other man before he saw him. Changbin was sitting on the couch on facetime with someone he couldn’t see clearly. Changbin laughed before speaking, “You know you can never say no to Chaeryeong and me when we start begging, Seri.”

It seemed like whoever was on the other end of the call was used to the teasing and prodding from his older member. “If i say that i’ll come over this weekend will you stop being a brat? I’ll just hang out with Chae without you.” Her voice was familiar to him, like he had heard it a couple of times but couldn’t place where from.

“You wouldn’t! You love me way too much to ever leave me alone” A beep signaled that the rapper had been hung up on. Changbin reacted with a huff and a pout before turning towards him. “You wouldn’t hang out without me, right?”

Hyunjin only rolled his eyes in response before turning towards their kitchen. “Who’s coming over this weekend? Anyone I know?” He hummed before continuing on, “They sounded familiar to me but i couldn’t place it.” Changbin hummed, “I don’t think i’ve ever introduced them to anyone in the group. She’s really busy most of the time so Chae and I don’t really see as much as we did when we were kids”

His phone vibrated prompting him to speak again, “We’re gonna go to a cafe with Chae on Saturday! Maybe we can beg enough to get her to have a sleepover too!” The older member rose off the couch before reading towards his room throwing a good night over his shoulder.

HYUNJIN - CHAN & I.N’S DORM

Laying across the youngest members bed killing time by scrolling through twitter Hyunjin swiped through his feed before stopping on a new post,

“STRAY KIDS CHANGBIN SEEN WITH ITZY’S CHAERYEONG & ACTRESS/MODEL YOON SERI”

He felt his face slip before calling out, “WHY is Changbin hyung with THE Yoon Seri?!” Jeongin peaked around his closet door, “What? Seri noona?”

Hyunjin frowned looked at the other member, “Noona? Have you met her?!” He crawled forward on the bed staring directly at him, “Well yeah? You have too.”

“What no I haven’t! When did I meet her?” It felt like his whole world was melting around him. He knew he was dramatic but not remembering one of your favorite actors? Someone who you watch on tv anytime there’s a new episode? “Am I an idiot? Actually, don’t answer that.” He cut Jeongin off as soon as he opened his mouth knowing exactly how he would answer.

He sighed, “She’s my favorite actress and I don’t even remember meeting her?” Jeongin laughed at the pout on his hyung’s face. “It was pre debut and she hadn’t even become an actress yet. She was just binnie hyung’s friend that came once or twice. She was really nice to me and gave me snacks” Hyunjin could image the goofy grin full of braces from so long ago.

“It was really hard to be mean to you.. you were so adorable” His voice trailed off as he started furiously typing on his phone. “What are you doing now hyung?”

Hyunjin finished his typing before responding, “Texting Changbinnie hyung! He knows how much I like her! I want to meet her again so I can remember this time!” Jeongin only laughed in return.

CHANGBIN - CAFE

He was the first one to arrive which he expected to happen. Seri was always running a little behind and if he knew anything he knew that Chae would’ve already shown up to force the older girl out the door. He knew he was correct as he saw the two walking up to the door of the cafe.

As the two walked towards him he stood to hug them one after the other. He held on to the elder a little longer as she rubbed his back. “I’ve missed you a lot Binnie. I made sure no one would bother me about schedules until Monday so we have the rest of the weekend together!” She rubbed his shoulder one more time before joining arms with Chaeryeong again.

“Unnie said we could have a sleepover! So that means you get to host this time now that you only have one roomie!” Chae pointed a finger at the older boy, “Why can’t Seri host?! She has no roomies!” He pouted and crossed his arms.

“My apartment is all the way across the city Binnie, unless you want to uber over an hour I say we stay at yours.” She smiled at him, “Plus I can meet your members again! I haven’t seen everyone in forever”

The trio chatted and goofed off for around an hour before deciding to walk around the area the cafe was in. There was some small shops and a park in the area and the weather was nice for now.

They ended their walk sitting around a table on the edge of the park separating their purchases. “Did you really need more jewelry?” Changbin teased his friend, “Hey! A girl can never have enough pretty little things to wear!” Seri playfully glared over the table at him, “This is my treat to myself! I’ve been working hard on the new season and this is my first day off in what feels like months.”

The other two gave each other a look before turning to their friend, “Which is why we get to spoil you tonight!” Chae smiled. They grabbed her hands and pulled her up and into them hugging her between them. “We get to snuggle you and make sure you eat yummy food!” Changbin’s words smushed into Seri’s hair.

“The guys are coming over and we can play board games and I’ll let you hold me when we watch movies that are too scary for me.” He rubbed the top of her head before stepping away to check his phone that wouldn’t stopping vibrating.

“Speaking of the boys, Hyunjin has already started harassing me with messages.” He playfully rolled his eyes before smirking and turning his phone towards the two. Eight Messages from Hyunjin and all eight were increasingly more frantic.

Hyunjin:

CHANGBIN

WHY ARE TOU WITH YOON SERI?!

HYUNG PLEASE HOW DO YOU KNOW HER

ONCE CHANCE PLEASE

IVE MET HER?!

PLESEA PLEASE PLEASE INTRODUCE ME

SHES MY FAVORITE ACTRESS PLS

IM ONLH ASKJNV FOR ONE CHANCE HYUNG

Her whole face scrunched up as she laughed, “Oh my god! He’s too cute” It was like her smile only got bigger before she snatched his phone from his hand. “Give me this for a second.”

She flounced a few steps away typing across the screen before hitting send.

HYUNJIN - CHAN & IN’S DORM

He knew both Chan hyung and Jeongin were both teasing him from where they sat across the living room. They watched as he lay sprawled out on the floor waiting for a text back from Changbin.

He kept looking back at the article just to check that he wasn’t going crazy. That his group member was with THE Yoon Seri. Every time he checked back he was still just as shocked to see that he wasn’t actually going crazy and it really was true that he had somehow completely blanked on already meeting his favorite actress.

It felt as if years had passed as slowly as possible before his phone vibrated in his hand, Changbin finally messaging him back.

Changbin:

*Changbin sent a photo*

Hi Hyunjin! We’re gonna have a sleepover at your dorm? I hope that okay with you too! Let’s have fun together! - Yoon Seri x

“Oh my god!!” Hyunjin stared down at his phone, pink slowly starting to spread across his cheeks. “She’s so pretty” They could only stare at their dancer as he continued to stare at the picture on his phone.

As if shocked out of a daze, he jumped up from his spot on the floor “She’s coming over and our dorm is a mess! I have to go!”

He was there one second and gone the next, the two remaining member only laughed to each other before getting up to follow.

author’s note: So i literally started this last night and the inspo hasn’t stopped. this is the easiest and fastest over ever written a chapter lol

[writercole]

Dream Lover

Summary: When a chase goes wrong, Tyler finds himself in a precarious situation. Words: 1300ish Warnings: Discussion of trauma, loss of consciousness, angsty Challenge: @alphabetquest - A: Angst A/N: I had started this originally as a Jake piece and never finished it. When I found it again, Tyler said "Oh, I like it here. This is mine now." And all I could do was rewrite it for him.

Tyler cracked his eyes open when he heard giggles near his feet. Two children, a boy and a girl, crept towards him, shushing each other as they walked. He squeezed his eyes shut and struggled to suppress the grin trying to curl his lips.

“Daddy, wake up!” two little voices shouted as they pounced on him, poking at his cheeks and prying his eyelids open.

He caught a glimpse of a woman leaning against the door frame with a soft smile and his heart skipped a beat. The young girl blocked his view of her and he looked up at the kids, giving them a sly grin and wink before closing his eyes again.

The kids slid off of him and whined, “Mommy! Daddy won’t wake up!”

“Daddy is probably very tired. He had a long drive home yesterday.”

“Momma,” the little boy begged, “help us wake him up.”

She sighed and Tyler heard her bare feet crossing the floor along with the stifled giggles from the children. Once she was within his range, he reached out quickly, wrapping his arm around her waist and tugging her on top of him with a shriek.

The delighted children squealed and laughed, clapping as Tyler reached up to kiss their mom.

Butterflies fluttered in his stomach when their lips met and his eyes fluttered shut with a contented sigh.

She pulled away too soon for Tyler’s liking, a wide smile lighting up her face when he opened his eyes again. “I made pancakes,” she whispered.

“I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Kids, let’s let Daddy get up and he’ll meet us downstairs for breakfast.” With one final kiss, the woman and children left Tyler. He couldn’t explain how everything felt so right and yet so wrong all at once. The room he woke in calmed him, but he didn’t remember ever being in it.

The woman - his wife if the solid gold band on his left hand was to be trusted - her beauty stirred something within him but he didn’t recognize her, didn’t know her name.

He looked up from his musings to find himself in a breakfast nook, the little family motioning for him to join them. The window behind them grew brighter, a blinding light assaulting his face and prompting him to raise his arms to shield his eyes.

“Tyler?” the woman called. Her voice sounded far away, almost like she were at the other end of a long tunnel.

“Tyler!”

How was he hearing Boone’s voice?

“Tyler, eyes open, man.”

Eyes open?

“Tyler, come have breakfast with us.”

The edges of his vision started to fade out. Pain crept in to take its place. The world around him went black for just a second before his eyes opened to Boone’s concerned face hovering over him.

“Oh, thank god, Tyler,” Boone sighed. Relief slumped his shoulders as he sat back on his heels.

“What happened?” Tyler tried to sit up, only to collapse back on the ground due to the intense dizziness and searing ache in his head. 

“Well, you went head first into an EF3 to grab someone from a car. You got her out and safe but you got hit with some debris.”

“Oh.”

“Wait, is that all - don’t you close your eyes on me, Tyler Owens!”

“Boone, my head is throbbing and, no offense, but the back of my dark eyelids is a better sight right now.”

“Okay. Well. Um. I’ll find a nurse or something.”

Tyler felt Boone’s presence wander off and he started to rack his memory to find the last thing he remembered. He knew what town he was in, what month it was. He knew that Javi had jumped ship to the Wranglers and that Kate had gone back to New York a week earlier.

He didn’t know what his last meal was or what time it was, though judging by the rays of sunlight struggling to break through the clouds, it was mid to late afternoon. 

He could feel all of his extremities, it didn’t hurt to breathe. He was confident that nothing was significantly broken despite the ache he felt from head to toe.

He knew his team, he knew his truck. 

He had no idea who the woman in his dream was.

Boone’s voice started getting closer, talking with another male voice. “He was conscious when I went to find you.”

“I’m still conscious, Boone. My head hurts.”

“Anything else hurt?”

“Everything aches. Feels like I whacked my shoulder really well.”

“I’m going to start checking some of these spots. Can you move your legs? Toes?”

Shit, he hadn’t considered that. A quick twist and wiggle satisfied both of them. Tyler winced every time the other person, an EMT according to Boone, would move his head or neck.

“You need to go to the ER,” the EMT concluded.

“I’ll be fine,” Tyler countered.

“You were unconscious for like, five minutes, dude.”

Fucking Boone.

“Loss of consciousness needs to be evaluated.”

“You just evaluated me.”

“You need actual testing, not just a field assessment. You know, CT, MRI, X-Ray. Can’t do that out here.”

“What he’s saying, Owens, is don’t be a dick,” Boone retorted, the smile on his face evident despite Tyler’s eyes still being shut.

“Fine, whatever,” he sighed heavily.

“I’ll get a backboard and we’ll get you moved. Stay still until we get you to the hospital.”

Tyler agreed with another sigh, cracking his eyes open to find Boone trying to move his phone around, presumably trying to get a signal. “Where’s the rest of the crew?”

“Everyone’s good. They’re all helping to pull survivors out, find dogs, all of that. Dani and Lily are passing out food and water.” 

“You should be helping them.”

“No, I should be here trying to keep your ass from going anywhere,” he snarked. “And don’t try to talk me out of it. We’ve already decided.”

“Sure, Boone.” Tyler settled back and closed his eyes again, trying to relax until he was taken to the hospital.

After extensive testing, it was determined that he had a concussion and would need to be admitted overnight for observation. Despite his best protests, Boone stuck around, settling into the small chair at the foot of Tyler’s bed to ride out the evening.

“Hey, Boone,” Tyler called after a few hours, “do you know anything about concussions?”

“I’ve had my fair share, yeah.”

“Would they cause you to dream about people you don’t know?”

“Usually your dreams can’t create people but they can pull from your subconscious memory and get faces you haven’t actually interacted with. Why?”

Tyler launched into a brief description of his dream, including the woman he created.

“I don’t know anyone that fits that description but, hey, maybe you met people I didn’t,” Boone shrugged.

Tyler hummed in response and settled back against the pillows again, the rhythmic beeping of the monitor soothing his exhausted brain until a knock sounded at the door. He turned to face the small crack just as a head poked in - her head.

“Um, Tyler?” she asked.

“That’s me.” Her voice was exactly as he’d dreamed, her hair the same color, her eyes the same shape. He looked down at Boone, shock and disbelief etched on the other man’s face.

“I hope I’m not intruding.”

“Oh, no, not intruding at all,” Boone insisted as he stood. “What can we help you with?”

She stepped closer to the pair of them and Tyler was once again struck by the resemblance of the woman to the girl of his literal dream. She twisted her hands together and her eyes darted back and forth between Boone and Tyler. “I, um,” she started, clearing her throat before continuing, “I just wanted to say thank you.”

“For what?”

“For pulling me out of the car. You saved me.”

[reidslovely]

Hi Bambi! Sorry this is late, but I’m always down to talk about Peter 🕸️❤️ How do you think he’d handle a “there’s only one bed” situation?? I can’t decide if he’d be cocky or awkward lol, but probably both

So glad you’re getting back in the swing of things! (Pun intended)

abby always a joy to see you in my inbox!! and it is not at all late (if anyone is late it is me hehe) requests will be open for quite a while!! i think that this is a very complex question i feel like peter would be too cocky about it to cover up how excited he'd be to share the bed. but at the same time your friends sooo it would be weird right??? let me walk you through it.

please reblog or comment when you like!!<3

Peter Parker ever since you had known him  was very shy, and couldn't talk his way out of a wet paper bag around girls. Not in elementary school or middle, and definitely not in high school. Maybe that's why you found the boy next door to be such an interesting person. Nearly six foot tall, eyes that could win any girl over, yet anytime he opens his mouth...pure word vomit. Peter Parker in college was the same, yet by this point he had done the whole boyfriend girlfriend thing and learned to hide his nervousness behind shitty flirting and the cockiness that seemingly flew out of nowhere the middle of senior year. 

However that shield broke the moment you checked into the beachside hotel. 

It was a gorgeous hotel sitting on the beachfront of Ocean City. Peter had booked the first hotel that popped up, and got the cheapest room they had moments after planning the impromptu spring break trip. However, opening the door he realized why a four night stay was so cheap for two people. A single bed sat in the middle of the pale blue room, the duvet a soft yellow with flowers sitting on the bed. 

“Oh I fucked up.” Peter mumbled laughing, tossing a quick glance at you. Hopefully you hadn’t thought this was a part of some long pawn he’d been playing to get you to fall into bed with him after all these years. Making a mental note to have May or you book a hotel for the next trip if there would ever be another trip after this. “Mhm, big time” You teased back sitting on the soft memory foam of the king bed. Peter rolled his eyes playfully, sticking his tongue to his teeth shaking his head. 

“You mean you don’t want to sleep with me? Could have fooled me.” 

Peter felt like his skin was on fire, he was praying you couldn’t see how red his face was. 

You scoffed, eyes following him around the room. “Hey you’re the one who looks like you’re about to burst into flames.” Mhm he was not hiding it well. “Well you’re passing up the chance of a lifetime, there are plenty of girls who would be dying to be where you are right now missy.” 

Peter states smugly, placing his hands on the back of his neck, making his torso a perfect target for you to hit him with the pillow you were holding on your lap. “Okay okay I’m serious.” He defends throwing it back, the pillow landing at your feet. “I don’t have the money to afford another room and still be an active participant on this trip so…” He thinks for a moment looking at the couch resting at the foot of the bed. “We can share a bed Peter.” 

The words made him want to giggle and kick his feet like a cartoon character. He hid a smirk forming on his lips, clearing his throat. “I mean I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” “We used to share beds as kids.” You stated like it was no big deal. The two of you did share beds a lot until around middle school. Peter remembers being scared of sleeping on your floor so you’d let him into your bed at sleepovers, or Peter insisting that it was ungentlemanly to let you not have the bed at his house so the only explanation was to share. 

“Yeah but we were kids, now we are…” 

He was getting shy, and he felt so silly over it. Would sharing a bed really change nearly twenty years of friendship? 

“Fine, since you’re begging me to sleep with you. I’d be so evil to deny you.” Peter sighs like it is the most annoying situation ever. Hours at the beach took his mind off of what tonight would bring. He got excited and flattered at the thought of sleeping next to you, and felt like he was a kid in the science museum again. Once you both returned to the hotel Peter let you shower while he tried to figure out the best way to go about this. He turned the TV on to kill his mind a little bit, he lies in multiple different ways trying to make it seem as normal as possible yet he felt silly. 

Nothing felt natural.

Until you got in the bed with him. Your head on his shoulder as you scrolled on your phone, Peter watching the TV glancing at you occasionally. His hand rubbing your side slowly makes his heart flutter, instinctively he buries his head in your wet hair smiling at the videos on your phone. 

“What are you doing weirdo?” 

“I love you..I love this.”

 He whispers, nudging his nose against your head, it falls out so perfectly. It makes the moment even more perfect. You laugh, not out of disgust or shock but it is a laugh of relief. He sinks down into the bed pulling you with him, holding you closer. Pete hums awaiting a response watching you put your phone down.

“If I knew getting you into bed with me would be what made you finally confess I would have used that years ago.” “Mhm well..y’know what they say.”

“What do they say?” 

“Usually I love you too” He snickered, pushing hair from your forehead kissing softly. 

“Go to bed” You laugh smacking his chest. Peter hums holding you closer, closing his eyes, head still in your hair. Against his skin hears and feels your soft reply of 

“I love you too.”

🩵

hope that tickles your itch abby

__

forgot to do the taglist on the last few posts but doesn't really matter because some of those I tag never really interact with the fic lol.

@helloheyhihowdyheya @toomanyfictionalboyfriends @megmehz @sincericida @andrews-lovr @eevylynn @a-lumos-in-the-nox

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XX)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... A LOT of readers google what an "ostomy bag" is! Danny reestablishes his comfort with the Arabic numeral system!

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

The next time Diana comes to visit her charge, her gloves are blue. Her scrubs are a pale pink. She is given a new face mask, and a new hair net, and walks through the double doors without needing to be buzzed in.

Alright. Perhaps the boy is not genuinely “her charge”. Still, he is hers to protect and to keep; although her position is, officially, as security to the medical team working with their young patient, the medical team knows as well as she does that the boy does not genuinely intend harm.

Is he prone to outbursts? Perhaps, but very few of them are powered. It is entirely understandable too, according to the mental health professionals on board the Watchtower: trauma affects how well one comports oneself and how one interprets their environment. They may see things, hear things, or misunderstand things, and believe they are under threat. The circumstance makes for a great deal of residual fear and mistrust.

Diana was once raised amongst communities of women with few untouched by battle fatigue. She recognizes the signs of lost time and of reawoken fear. She understands what battle-weary warriors are truly fighting against.

A doctor and a nurse mumble a greeting as Diana passes by them. “Morning, Wonder Woman.”

“Good evening,” Diana returns, eyes crinkling. One nurse visibly glances out the window—and then smiles, sheepishly, having forgotten their location in space. Time zones on the Watchtower are often…flexible; Diana, however, has only just returned from her day job. “How is the patient?”

A doctor jerks their head towards the monitor. It is only ever left on if no one else is in the room; privacy is key to recovery. The active monitor means that the medical team has left him alone for now. “Take a look. You might have to go kid wrangling again, Ma’am.”

Alright. Diana obliges them.

On the monitor, in little stick-figure form, are three figures, all sitting or crowded around the room’s singular bed. Her patient sits in his little white gown, legs still as ever, as Impulse drapes himself across the bedspread, and Robin (ex-Robin? Third Robin? Doesn’t he have a new name now?) stands at the bedside.

The Speedster wiggles, mouthing out words she can’t hear without a microphone. Robin is focused on something in his hand—a tablet, perhaps? If Impulse is chattering into the air, then Robin is short on answers; her charge, in comparison, looks back and forth between them, likely unable to understand what the two are up to.

Diana’s mask catches her sigh. “Busy, are they?”

��Do you think you can hold the red one down long enough for a refresher on proper PPE usage?” the doctor begs. The question appears to be genuine. “They just zoomed in a little bit ago. We’ve been trying not to disturb them, but without masks and gloves…”

…Her charge was still at risk for possible contamination or infection, as they couldn’t get consistently accurate test results on his immune system. Diana hummed. She could see the problem.

“I shall. Buzz me in, if you will.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

The door clicks open. Diana strides through, unafraid of teenagers or similar ilk, and content with her position as designated scolder.

And, to his credit, the Robin at her charge’s bedside recognizes Diana’s lack of enthusiasm with the situation, and winces with artful precision. Silly boy— as if Diana would believe that any Bat would be ashamed of breaking a rule if they had already chosen to break it. She cannot help but be fond of each Bird’s eccentricities in their own ways. Robin hides the contraband food in his hand behind his back.

Impulse, however, hardly notices her approach, draped over her charge’s casts as he is—a whiteboard in his hand, furiously scribbling away at whatever attempt at communication he has decided to test today. Having met several male teenagers in her recent years, there is a decent chance he has been drawing genitalia as well.

Diana politely coughs into her mask. The gesture is entirely performative. Robin responds by hiding a separate can of energy drink—opened—on the side table behind him, in the hopes of hiding it from view.

Impulse, who failed to notice her arrival, continues to scribble. Occasionally there will be a burst of superspeed, but it will be in contained little bursts. He likely either wants to preserve the marker, or he is taking more care with his attempted art than usual.

Her charge looks up.

His eyes are still a concern—glazed with a green film, they jitter back and forth ever so slightly when he tries to focus on any one object in particular. He hasn’t indicated any discomfort with his eyesight, however, so it hasn’t been addressed beyond documentation.

The crack in his face—from two inches above his white, nebulous hairline and trailing down to his chin—is visible evidence of an injury or gouge of some sort, with new pink skin all around the edges as the only visible sign of inhuman levels of healing. Diana has seen a number of scars, and a number of healed, gaping wounds, but it is occasionally unsettling to set eyes on her charge and see the still-healing brain matter, skull, and inner sinus cavity through a viscous, green, not-quite-organic wound filling material.

There seems to be a consistent rate of healing, though. Diana can only hope that recovery is possible.

“Good afternoon,” Diana greets softly. Her charge’s discolored fingers flex as his face turns to look at her. “Are you well?”

His green-tinged lips part and then come together again. He’s not not paying attention—he listens very well, and has begun to use certain words in English to compensate for his need for communication. That being said, Diana has little idea what he is and is not capable of understanding.

Impulse, however, finally recognizes the newest occupant in the room. “Wonder Woman! Uh—we totally had permission to be here this time! Promise!!” he offers, immediately switching from someone gleeful to see her from someone remembering their misdeeds.

Diana is very lucky that her mask covers her fond smile. If it is her job to be stern today, she ought to live up to the task. “Did you, now?”

Impulse beams sheepishly, and rolls off of the casts of a bemused half-alien boy. “Yes! Remember last time when the nurses all said I could ‘come whenever’ and ‘bring a friend’ and—“

“You were asked to buzz in ahead of time and put on your protective gear?” Diana finishes, wry. Before she is able to scruff him appropriately, however, the superpowered boy is already gone and back—now with an askew hairnet, an upside-down surgical mask, and gloves a size too large for his hands.

“So I did that!” Impulse protests, the mask moving unnaturally over his face. “Look! All dressed up!”

It is a well-intended last minute effort. Alas, it would all be for naught. Diana scoops up a squawking speedster by the nape, and a now-blinded-by-a-misplaced-surgical-mask Robin, and trots them both back to larger medical.

“One moment!” Diana tosses back to her charge, who is, understandably, concerned.

Still. It takes Wonder Woman, two nurses, and a paraprofessional to successfully sanitize and gear up an uncooperative speedster. Robin sulks through the entire process, but capitulates to it with more grace.

Her charge’s green eyes shine and his fingers curl around his few personal possessions as Diana returns to him his companions; she wishes, so dearly, that she could ruffle his pale hair. “All done!”

The teenaged heroes sprawl across his bed just as casually as they had before—if better prepared for their environment. Robin largely gives her charge his space, careful not to impede where he isn’t wanted, but Impulse freely shares affection that her charge, at least, does not visibly deny.

Diana has her own routine to complete. She heads for the intravenous injection bags, pulls out a fresh one, and cracks the seal. After that, it’s shaking to mix the concoction and a fresh replacement.

Impulse grabs one of the toys off of her charge’s side table and brings it into his lap. The board is tilted, and all the slotted-in pieces fall out. He spends some time sorting them by shape, and then by color, until her charge lifts trembling fingers to pick them up, very carefully, one by one.

She’s impressed. His pincer grasp recovery has not been consistently smooth sailing. “Excellent work,” she praises.

Robin looks up from his tablet. Impulse looks back at her and beams. Her charge gives her a brief look, observes that she doesn’t need anything from him at the moment, and gets back to sorting the little pieces back into their allotted slot.

Impulse rests his chin on the steel arm bar of her charge’s cot. The pose seems…uncomfortable. “Hey, Tim. He got them all right.”

Timothy Robin taps away at his tablet—no doubt taking down documentation of his own. Diana can’t help but feel affection; every Bat and every Bird is so nosy, but if she wants to actually see those notes on her charge, she will have to press Batman for them with a reasonably-sized threat.

“Really?” Robin asks, eyes on the screen. “Do you think the pieces were matched based on color, or actual understanding of the numerical system?”

Diana looks down, line in her hand as she reconnects the intravenous bag. The toy in her charge’s lap is a mock clock face. Each of the numbers is printed onto the removable piece, in different cut-out shapes, and painted different colors.

The atmosphere changes. The air itself tastes different—something like electricity sparks on her tongue. And then it’s gone.

“No, he’s looking to put the clock face back in order, specifically,” Impulse confirms. Ah. Speedforce. Diana should have been able to recognize the feeling by now. “He’s kind of annoyed, actually. It’s like a baby toy.”

“Well, it is a baby toy.” Robin taps away.

“Yeah, that’s why it’s annoying. He knows he should be able to do it.”

Impulse buzzes again, and her charge hums, stuffing his flat hand between the board and the sheet until he can tip it over without grabbing at it. He repeats the same process, the only difficulty stemming from his shaking grip and his shaking eyes.

The urge to pull him close and pet his hair is understandable, Diana reminds herself, but not conducive to his long-term comfort. She smiles at him, as best as she can behind a surgical mask, and discreetly checks his drainage bags to see if they need replacing while she’s already close.

“All’s well,” she declares at last, finished with anything that isn’t social. Thankfully, having two teenagers in the room takes care of her charge’s most frequent issue—boredom. She claps her hands together, and her charge looks up at her, eyes vibrating. “Do you require anything?”

Her charge looks at her. Her charge looks at his friend. “Ouatair?” he tries to enunciate, tongue thick against the green-filled split in his hard palate. “Pleese?”

“Ithinkhewantssomewater,” Impulse rushes to translate, but Diana already knows this request. The water provided is chilled in a refrigerator, and it takes no time for her to find sanitized cup and straw—steel, so as to be safe when dropped, and relatively uncrushable, with a handle for simple gripping.

She presents it to him grip-first. His expression is grateful, and frustrated. No warrior wishes to be in the position of needing constant. Diana can understand the wish to do things on his own.

“Soon,” Diana offers, voice a whisper. “You’re already better off than before.”

Her charge grumbles into his cup. His tongue, half-green, finds the straw for him; he chomps down on the straw, slurps as loudly as he can, and sulks.

Teenagers. Diana finds herself unable to understand how Bruce has so many of them, and understands perfectly well how easy it is to take on a child in need and make them your own.

The cup goes back onto the side-table, half-empty.

“Hey,” Robin starts again. He puts his tablet to the side. The white board is pulled out of Impulse's hands and goes onto her charge's lap, and with only a little whining. “How’s this?”

Her charge mumbles something neutral. His eyebrows scrunch together, but he takes the offered blue marker from Impulse and lets the boy uncap it for him.

“Yeah, it’s more adult or whatever,” Impulse encourages. Her charge sticks out a green-mottled tongue, but takes the marker to the white board and writes. Robin peers over his shoulder to watch. “It’s just the alphabet. A, B, C, D~!”

Her charge hums the tune back to him, continuing seamlessly where Impulse left off. The teen hero beams.

Diana stills.

“Yeah, you got it!” Impulse encourages, and peeks over the edge of the board to see her charge hard at work. His letters are wobbly, certainly, and there are some that he misses, but the alphabet song is a longstanding English-language tradition. He know it. He knows it by rote.

“You missed the ampersand,” Impulse points out. Her charge scowls through the fissure in his face.

…There is no reason for Diana to get excited. Yet. Robin-the-former is already jotting down his own notes, pleased with his observations. There are many reasons and many ways this teenager might have picked up the song. J’onn famously picked up on Earth’s radiowaves before being transported to Earth; this could be further evidence that her charge has some connection to Earth, or it could be a connection to something more bizarre and unusual.

There is no shortage of unusual events these days.

And, of course, Diana runs out of things to do. She smooths down her charge’s blanket, which he hardly notices in his frustration. She refills his water. She is tempted to go grab her copy of The Art of War from her bag in the other room, which she has read before, but which she is rereading at behest of Bruce’s newest initiative: Tactical Book Club. She is optimistic about the opportunities for further education this will provide her comrades-in-arms, if not underwhelmed by the reading material. As long as the teenage heroes are in the room, Diana is obligated to remain with them, in the event that the danger level might…fluctuate. A book would give at least the semblance of privacy to the three.

Her charge makes a noise. “Hay!”

Diana looks up. In shaky hands, resting on his lap, he holds up a largely complete alphabet. There are one or two shaky letters—thorn, which is fairly common, and eth, perhaps less so—but otherwise carefully drawn, very neatly done.

“Excellently done,” Diana praises. The alphabet is a triumph of the physical work it takes to heal.

Her charge beams through his craggy face, buzzing with delight.

"I dunno," Impulse teases, upside down on her charge's legs. "They're kinda wonky."

The boy's face scrunches, smears the color away with a swipe of his arm, and draws something else.

The board shakes with his exertion as he lifts it back into place on his lap, and Diana allows herself to sigh, audibly; sure enough, as she had expected, there is a misshapen, blue, cartoon representation of a penis.

Robin full-on cackles with surprise, but Impulse falls of the bed with laughter.

Unfortunately, it is now Diana's job to figure out how to scold a teenager, and one who speaks no known language besides. Based on the resulting expressions she earns, Diana is unsure if the scolding works, but. Well.

...She tried.

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒖𝒏𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅

this is the more extended version of my unwanted drabble, thank you to @jessybarnes for some of the ideas. I hope you all enjoy.

summary - steve tricked you before kidnapping you, leaving you locked away in the basement as you begin to mess with his mind.

warning - angst, mentions of killing, mentions of sadness, mentions of being trapped.

the gif and headers I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

“What? You want me to meow or something?” 

Steve sat there shocked, staring at you with wonder. It’s as if you had no care and weren’t freaking out like others. He stares into your eyes, seeing nothing there, and his head tilts as he looks at you. “No..?” He looks confused, wondering. “How do you feel?” 

“I don’t.” You state, turning your head back to the wall and staring at it. You miss how his eyebrows shoot up. “So… When are you going to kill me?” You pick at your nails, continuing to feel stupid for thinking someone like him would actually want you. You turn your head when you don’t hear a response and tilt your head as he stares at you, confused. “That’s why you tricked me, right? To kill me, you didn’t exactly pretend to like me, drug me, and tie me up in your basement because you’re madly in love with me, and that’s the only way you thought you could get me.” 

“You’re not afraid? Why aren’t you screaming, crying or swearing at me?” He’s so confused, getting closer to you, kneeling before you as he looks into your eyes. “Why is there nothing? You’re so empty.” 

You blink, staring at him blankly. “If you don’t mind, ‘Steve’. I would like not to talk and for you to just get to the point.” You move away from him, crawling up the bed and lying on your back as you stare at the ceiling. “I’ll be here… Waiting patiently for my death. Not like I have anywhere to go.” 

You let out a sigh when he left the room, one side of your mind begging for him to stay and the other staying quiet. You couldn’t let yourself fall for his stupid face again, and you didn’t want to beg someone to love you. You wanted that to come naturally. But you don’t think that will ever happen because… You were you, and people didn’t like what they saw.

Steve was curious, and you were like a puzzle to him. He had never met anyone so void of emotion and missed the woman he met. You seemed so happy and carefree, sure. He did notice that you were more closed off and didn’t seem to let him so close. He wanted to change that. He needed some sort of reaction, some sort of emotion. How can you be so calm during all this? Steve left you alone for a while, barely acknowledging the other women locked up, barely acknowledging his wife and kids, or the women he promised dates to. You were occupying his mind, and it was driving him crazy. He had destroyed most of the upstairs, trying anything to get you out of his head. He couldn’t take it. The look in your eyes, your words, it was all getting to him.

Steve remembered your dates and how you told him about the books you used to write. He recalled that you said it was the only thing that made you genuinely feel something, and an idea sparked. Steve gathered a notebook, some pens, and some food and water before making his way down to the basement. He knocks on the door before sliding it open and smiling at you. “I brought you something that I think you’ll enjoy.” You continue to stare at the wall, your eyes tired. Steve sighs, softly walking over and placing the items before you. “I’m trusting you with these pens, but if you do something—”

“You’ll what? Kill me?” You scoff, eyes slowly moving to connect with his. “That was already your plan, and this would make the killing go faster.” You roll your eyes, barely looking at the things he placed before you. “Did you need anything else? Because I’d rather you just hurry this along.” Your head turns again, ignoring him because what was the point of giving him any more attention? 

“Why are you behaving like this? I bought you some of the things I remember you talked about. You should at least feel happy?” Your head falls back as you let out a laugh, startling Steve, who stares at you as if you’ve grown three heads. “What? What’s so funny?!” Why wouldn’t you just submit?! Why were you so different from the others?! It bewildered Steve how you could sit so emotionless and then laugh as if he had said something funny.

“You. Do you think giving me a notebook and pens would suddenly make me happy? Did you not stop to think that you are the problem? I have already come to terms with the fact that no one will ever love me, that you only pretended so you could kidnap me and kill me. So why aren’t you killing me?! Why are you taking your sweet time?!” You snap, struggling against the chains as you stand and move toward Steve, punching his chest. “Kill me! Kill me, goddammit!” You scream, your eyes are still emotionless, yet your words hold so much power.

Steve holds your wrists, stopping you from hitting him. He stares down at you, wondering why his heart clenches like this. “No.” He moves away, needing to get out of this room and get away from you as you make his head fuzzy. He watches as you stare at him in disbelief.

“So, what… I’m not good enough to love and not good enough to kill either?” You sink back onto the bed, your eyes staring at the wall as you realise you will never be good enough for anything or anyone. Steve quickly leaves the room, going through the house, destroying more things on the way. How could you get into his head like this? No one else had done it, so why were you so different?

You sat there, staring at the untouched notebook before slowly reaching for it, and as you grabbed the pen, the words began to flow out of you and onto the page. Everything you felt deep inside was coming out through stories. Not feeling in the mood to eat or drink, you spend most of the day and night writing. As many more days pass, Steve comes in and out with more gifts and food. You continued to ignore him, not knowing how to react, waiting for him to decide when it was your time to die finally. But the day never came. You think a month had passed, but you weren’t so sure. Steve walked into your room, undoing the chains and holding out his hand. “C’mon. I’ve prepared us some dinner.” You stare at him warily before slowly standing and following him. He leads you to the kitchen and pulls out the chair for you. 

“Why am I out here?” You sit, tapping the table, watching him place the food onto the plates, not daring to touch it as Steve sits across from you. 

“I’ve come to realise something, and at first, it scared me. You’re different from the rest.” You scoff, rolling your eyes. “I’m serious. Do you know how confusing this is for me? You’ve taken over my mind, and I can’t focus on anything else.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry that I’ve stopped you from tricking other women into believing you love them.” Your eyes roll again, leaning back into the chair. “Do you need a tissue?” You pick up the napkin beside your plate, offering it out to him.

Steve stares at you blankly, his eye twitching as he’s stuck between wanting to strangle you and make love to you. “No, I do not need a tissue. I’m trying to tell you that I feel something for you.” He’s startled again as you laugh.

“You feel something for me?” You feel tears prick your eyes as you continue to laugh. “Oh, god. That’s probably the funniest thing I’ve heard. I think you are delusional.” You shake your head, and your laughter slowly dies down. Your eyes connect with him, and you stare. “You’ve already got me here. You don’t need to keep lying to make yourself feel better.” You continue to tap on the table. “So… When am I going to die?” 

“You aren’t. I’m keeping you alive.”

“Oh, great. Fantastic. Sounds so fun to be alive and kept locked away in a basement for the rest of my life. Good plan.” You give a little clap and throw him a fake smile. But deep down, your stomach twisted, and your heart dropped. This was worse than waiting to die. Now you would be locked away, unloved, and eventually wither away. Your expression on the outside stayed void of any emotion. 

“No, you will stay up here. With me.” 

You wished you had never even gone to that stupid market. You wished you had never believed Steve’s stupid words or smile. How could you be so stupid to believe someone would ever choose you?

You were unwanted.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[romanreignseater]

The Mouth & Finger Vigilante.

Roman Reigns x Reader

Rating: 18+

Warning: Slight fluff and admiration, which leads straight into a nasty oral session 😁.

“Roman’s fingers and mouth are members of the self-appointed group that solve problems. The problem is being away from his wife without pleasuring her. So, here comes his mouth and fingers to save the day.”

A/N: I wrote this in a single morning 😭. I was dreaming about to be honest. I hope you all love it. Thanks for the support on my last fic.

GIF: @romanreigns

Roman enters the house at 1:14a.m.; after an appearance on Monday Night Raw and a long fight back home; he was exhausted. The three family dogs laid across their beds in the living room, sleeping peacefully. His bag softly thrown to the bench by the front of the door and his shoes put beside it. A sigh leaves his mouth.

He quietly walks up the grand staircase of his multi-million dollar beachfront mansion, and to his left, his children’s bedrooms. Roman opens the door to check on his babies. Then, peddles to the side of their beds to give them each a kiss on their cheeks. The doors close, and his eyes focus to the end of the hallway.

The love of his life, behind those double doors, probably sleeping serene and in his t-shirt. He strides to the doors and opens them.

There she is.

His baby.

His wife.

The mother to his children.

The woman who made him into the man he is today.

And he couldn’t be more grateful.

But, he knows she deprived. His love over FaceTime could only be so much. His love in real life is far more intense. Roman’s been gone for about a week traveling up and down the states promoting WrestleMania 39, and he’s finally arrived back home.

He instantly crawls into the bed beside her and hugs her tightly. She groans as she was awakened by bear-like arms cradling her. “Hey baby.” His smile as big as ever. “Hey! When did you get here?” His love asks with a groggy, yet enthusiastic voice. “About 6 minutes ago, stopped by the kids room first.” She smiles lightly as her eyes begin to flutter closed. “That’s nice.”

He stares at her beautiful glass like skin, as she cuddles up to him more. His eyes once filled with light begin to darken. Her juicy thigh rubs against the top of his. When he remembers all the calls on FaceTime. Her begging and screaming his name, as she wanted the “real thing” back. She missed his touch and he could tell.

He lets go of her and assumes the position on top of her. His baby moves around slightly, when he then pulls the blanket down her body. Just as he knew, his big blue shirt wrapped around her body. Roman gently lifts his shirt to her collarbone, when her breasts became exposed. She twitches for a moment as the cold air from the AC hits her perky nipples. ‘Fuuuuck.’ He thinks to himself. Her tits did look good; good enough to eat.

The Tribal Chief massages her breasts softly as she moaned. He comes up a little bit to suckle her little perky nipples. Roman lapped both of her breasts; covered heavy in his saliva. Her light moans encouraged him to suck a little harder and release. As her perky, wet nipples begin to dry up, he slowly caresses his hands down her slim waist, to her wide hips. Her panties clinged between his fingers as he pulled them down to get to his prized cherry.

She stirs again as the cold air hits her cunt. She stirs once more as Roman lowered his face to her pussy and his hot breath hit it ever so intensely. He begins quickly and licks a bold stripe from her hole to her sensitive clit. “Aaaaaa, that’s good baby.” Her praises make him smirk. He then sops up all her wetness to spread it so viciously around her fat cunt. His tongue flicks up and down her pussy to create more juices.

“Baby.” She moans as her elbows were now propped up and her eyes looking into his. “Eat it baby.” Roman slaps her thigh and she yelps. “Whatchu think I’m doing mama?!” His devilish eyes lowered even more as he continued his abuse on her pussy with his tongue. Her head lolled back against the pillow she was sleeping on, and Roman’s mouth soon consumed the entirety of her cunt. Her clit was sucked and licked so hard, and her legs began to shake.

“Look at me. LOOK AT ME!” He exclaimed.

Her eyes now set on his as sucked the life out of her cunt. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head. He shook his head vigorously side-to-side with his tongue laid flat against her pussy. “Ooooohhhhh my GODDDD! DON’T STOP.” Her pussy began to convulse as she reached her high.

Roman licked up all her essence. His nose, chin, and beard smothered in her cum. He wipes his face with the back of his hand and climbs up the bed to his fucked out wife. She panted heavily as her thighs clenched together to stafe off that feeling. He grabs her face and sloppily kisses her; making her taste herself. She regains her breath, and slowly looks up at her man. His stare is cold when he spreads her legs again. His fingers where then placed deep inside the mouth of his wife.

She gagged as Roman shoved his two long digits into her throat. His spit covered fingers traveled down to her clenching hole. “AAAAAA! It’s too much!” She exclaimed as he entered her quickly. His fingers moved at a lightning speed, making the woman underneath him beg him to stop. Her cunt began squirting all over his hand and forearm. The inside of her thighs painted with her liquids and the silk sheets drenched as well.

Roman’s hand comes back up to the surface and he rubs her wetness all over her face. He slaps her lightly as she bits her lip sensually. He squishes her cheeks and spits into her wet mouth. She swallows and pulls her tongue back out to prove she swallowed. He grabs the end of his shirt on her body and wipes her face clean. He lays beside her to spoon her.

“Thank you baby, I missed you so much.” Her voice like music to his ears. “I know baby, I missed you too… But watch out for the morning after I drop the kids off at school.” Her breaths hitches.

“I’m taking you anywhere and everywhere around this house.” He moves his lips closer to her ear, “And I’m not stopping until it’s time to pick the kids up from school.” And with that it was a kiss on the cheek goodnight, but her head only surrounded by two things.

“8:00 a.m.”

Through

“2:30 p.m.”

Don’t we ALL love Roman Reigns?!

THE END!!

*Masterlist coming soon 😛. Also, I want to create a tag-squad; let me know if you’d like to be a part of it!!