#so these are for sure rookie errors
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Anyone made modded heads for BG3 or even just used Blender before? I'm trying to modify Rhidyl's ears but I think most of what I've done is just obliterate the meshđ
#let it be known I have barely ever touched blender before and the most I've made mod wise are simple retextures and scars for various games#so these are for sure rookie errors#kinda just bumbling rn following a pictureless text tutorial đ
#bg3#jun rambles#baldur's gate 3
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Ë áĄŁđ© âč àŁȘ ౚà§Ëââ§Ë · .
youâre gonna be ok (paige x reader)
summary: youâre going through a tough time and have pushed paige away but she finally realises something is wrong
content warnings: talks of depression and ed behaviours/language
requested by: @melpthatsme đ
Your girlfriend was getting suspicious and rightly so. You had just given her another lame excuse as to why you couldnât have dinner with her tonight. That was the third time this week.
At first it was âtoo much homeworkâ, then a âheadacheâ and now it was your âperiodâ. All lies.
As you lay curled up in your bed, all lights turned off, you sobbed silent tears until your pillow was saturated. You felt guilty lying to Paige but you couldnât go out, especially not to eat.
You wasnât entirely sure why Paige even wanted to be seen in public with you anyway, why she was with you at all actually. Paige was beautiful. Like the most beautifully perfect woman there ever was. Her eyes shone bright at all times and whether her hair was pulled into a tight ponytail or left natural and loose, framing her face, it looked immaculate. She was intelligent and athletic, maintaining an almost perfect GPA while simultaneously leading her team in back to back wins. Paige was everything and you, you were nothing.
You hated everything about yourself and you were usually good at hiding it. Painting on a fake smile and laughing when others laughed, mirroring your friends actions to make it seem like everything was just fine but it was getting harder to hide. You were drinking and smoking just to get respite from your thoughts. You were dragging yourself to gatherings just to count down the minutes until you could leave and be alone in your room where you could finally let your guard down.
You were proud at how long you had gone keeping this to yourself but it was almost impossible now. You didnât want to talk. You didnât want to leave the apartment. You didnât want to eat. You didnât want to see anyone. In fact, you didnât want to see yourself. You had even gone as far to cover every mirror in your room just to avoid the reflection that made you sick to your stomach.
You felt like you had cried a river this past week but the tears wouldnât stop, you thought there would be nothing left to give but you were a never ending pit of sadness.
You hear shuffling and muffled voices coming from your living room, your roommates must be home. You thanked yourself for keeping your lights off and closed your eyes so if they came into your room, theyâd think you were sleeping.
A few seconds past before you heard a light knock at your door. You ignored it. Pressing yourself further into your mattress, wishing it would swallow you whole. Then came the click of the handle being turned and the door squeaking open.
You kept your body as still as possible, holding your breath in hopes that whoever was disturbing you would think twice but that doesnât happen. Instead your bedroom light is flicked on and your door is closed with force, practically slammed.
âWhy did you lie to me?â You recognise Paiges voice immediately and itâs a mixture of pissed off but also upset and you know itâs your fault.
âWhat?â You say, even though you heard her loud and clear.
âI know youâre not on your period. Our cycles are synced. They have been for months. Why did you lie?â Paige asks again and you feel so stupid for making such a rookie error.
Paige was right. Your cycles were synced, it happened often with women and girls that spent a lot of time together, so when you were on your period, she was too. She had caught you out in your lie.
âI donât know.â You mummble into your duvet, still curled up tightly.
âYouâve blown me off three times this week. You barely answer my calls and texts, itâs like I have to force you to see me and now youâre lying to me and you canât even be bothered to tell me why?â Paige rants and even though you still havenât looked at her you can tell sheâs pacing your room.
âI donât understand whatâs going on. I thought we were good but maybe not.â She says and you physically feel your heart brake at her words but you canât bring yourself to say anything other than, âMaybe.â
âWhat?â She asks confused even though she was the one who said it first, âY/N, can you at least fucking look at me?â She snapped and you know thats the least you owe her so you slowly roll yourself around so youâre no longer facing the wall and push yourself up into a sitting position but you canât bring yourself to lift your eyes from your lap.
âI wanted to take you for dinner, spend some time with you. Just be with you and I thought you would have wanted the same but instead youâre in bed!â Paige continued and you just took her onslaught of words, you didnât have the energy to argue or even defend yourself.
âIâm sorry.â You muttered, picking at the already raw skin around your nails.
âWill you just look at me? Do you want to break-â You finally look at Paige and she stops mid-sentence, âHave you been crying?â
You ignore her question because your heart is racing and more tears are threatening to fall at what she was about to ask, âFinish what you were about to say.â You whisper but she doesnât need to, you knew what she was going to say. She was going to ask if you wanted to break up.
âWhatâs the matter? What happened? Why were you crying?â Paige asks all at once, any annoyance in her tone has been replaced with concern and her facial expression shifted from dark and frowning to soft and doe eyed.
âI wasnât.â You lie, âFinish what you were about to say.â
âYes you were. Your eyes are red and puffy, your skin is blotchy,â She walks towards you, âand your pillows wet. Why were you crying?â
âYou want to break up.â You answer your own question.
âNo. No, I donât. But I donât understand whatâs going on with you, I thought maybe you did.â She says honestly sitting on the edge of your bed.
âI donât.â
âWhy were you crying baby? Tell me whatâs on your mind.â She says placing a hand on your leg.
âI canât.â
âWhy not?â
âItâs too much Paige. My mind is too much, itâs too dark. You donât deserve that.â You begin to cry again and it quickly turns into sobs.
âHey, baby, come here.â She whispered, pulling you into her chest and onto her lap, she wrapped her arms around your body and held you close, âYouâre scaring me.â She admits, âTell me whatâs going on my love. I want to help you.â
âYou deserve more than this Paige.â You choke out in between sobs, youâre hyperventilating now, your body shaking in your girlfriends arms but she continues to hold you tight and close.
âBut I want you. I love you.â She pulls away from you slightly so she can look you in your eyes and she holds your face tenderly, a hand on each cheek, âYouâre all I want, my beautiful girl.â
âDonât say that.â You weep, jumping out of her lap.
âDonât say what?â
âDonât say Iâm beautiful. Donât say any of it. Itâs not true.â You cross your arms over yourself wishing you could shrink down into the smallest dimensions and eventually disappear.
âBaby, what are you saying? Whatâs going on?â She reaches out for you but you pull away not wanting to be touched.
Paige properly looks around your room for the first time and you watch as she notices everything and you see the cogs turning in her head as her eyes fall to your mirror, covered by a sweater. She sees the paper taped to your wall with your weight written on it followed by the harshest of words that you thought about yourself. She sees the empty alcohol bottles on your dresser and the half smoked blunt on your bedside table. And when she finally looks at you, in your oversized clothes, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, her eyes were glossy and her forehead creased as she fought back tears of her own.
âI donât know whatâs going on in your head, but I do know that I do love you and you are beautiful and Iâll tell you that everyday until you believe it.â She says as a tear slips down her cheek.
Paige walks over to you, taking you by your hands first and kissing both of them. She pulls on the sleeves of your sweater and you reluctantly let her pull it over your head so your just standing there in your bra. You close your eyes not wanting to see her reaction to your body, the thought of it made you sick. You felt her lips press to your stomach and she peppered kisses up your torso, âMy beautiful baby.â She mumbled against your skin as she continued to kiss over your chest and onto your neck.
She took you to your bed, laying you down and she hooked her fingers into the waistband of your joggers, pulling them off, exposing your legs. You wanted to grab the sheet and cover yourself up but her mouth met your thigh and she pecked it gently, moving over the the other, âSo perfect.â She breathed, the tips of her fingers trailing down your legs.
You lay on your bed, eyes closed, tears streaming out and you feel Paige hover above you, âLook at me baby.â She says softly, wiping the tears that soaked your cheeks. You flutter your eyes open and look up at Paige whoâs looking down at you, eyes filled with nothing but love and care. âPlease donât shut me out. Iâm here for you. Anything you need me to do, Iâll do it. I just want you to be OK. I need you to be OK. Youâre everything to me.â She says, blue eyes locked on yours.
âCan you just hold me tonight?â You sniffle. âOf course.â
Paige lays on your bed, pulling you into her arms, she presses her lips to your head before her fingers find your hair and she runs through it gently, âYouâre gonna be OK.â She whispers comfortingly. âYou promise?â
âI promise.â
Ë áĄŁđ© âč àŁȘ ౚà§Ëââ§Ë · .
a/n: i wrote this so tired so forgive any mistakes đ already want to write a part 2 đ„șđ„ș
#paige bueckers#wlw#lgbtq#oneshot#paige x reader#uconn wbb#wcbb#paige bueckers imagine#blurb#fanfic#lovegalor333
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Horrorfest: I'm Smarter Than The Devil, I'm Smarter Than the Devil! [Yandere Demon Chrollo x reader]
Title: I'm Smarter Than the Devil, I'm Smarter Than the Devil! [Yandere Demon Chrollo x Reader]
Synopsis: You should always read the rulebook before committing to a deal with the devil.
For Horrorfest request:
Hi! This is my first time sending in a prompt, so please forgive any formatting errors :) the prompt is "Reader doesn't read the fine print and accidentally sells soul to demon!Chrollo" (hxh)
Word count: 1024ish
notes: yandere, bad decisions
It isnât fair. It simply isnât fair. It is oh so, completely, wholly, utterly, entirely unfair.Â
âI didnât knowââ you start, and stop, and hate how childish you sound. Whining and petty, and this is no petty thing.Â
After all, youâve sold your soul to the devil.
Well, correction. Youâve sold your soul to a devil.Â
A devil you hadnât seen in years, and hadnât expected to see ever again. Not after the night you made the trade, a trade which had seemed simple enough at the time.Â
Everything seems simpler, doesnât it, when youâre not looking back with the unwelcome clarity of hindsight?
â
âAnd⊠all I have to do is sign your book?âÂ
How weak you must lookâhow human, how mortalâto the demon standing in front of you. The bandage heâd wound around his head when he first showed up is gone, and underneath it, imprinted on his skin, is a mark that is sure to mean nothing good.Â
Heâs not bad looking, you suppose. For a devil. Dark hair and eyes that seem to see right through you. Part of you wants to ask about the coatâdoesnât it get hot, where he comes from, with the fur collar?--but now that youâre soaking in the reality of it all, mostly youâre focused on the book in his hands.
A book that glows, a book with pages whose words swim around when you try to peek at them.Â
The demon smiles politely, with no teeth. If he were to grin, would he have fangs?Â
âAnd agree to make a trade.â
You swallow. Right. The book said you would have to make a trade with the demon you summoned. This could be anything, as long as the demon wanted it. Someone elseâs life; a precious object, usually sentimental; or well. Your stomach squirms at one of the other things the book said a demon may want, and you hope it doesnât come to that.Â
âWhat⊠do you want to trade for?â You want to smack yourself on the head the moment the words leave your lips. Giving the demon an open-ended opportunity is a rookie mistakeâand yeah, it was your first time summoning a demon, and maybe some of the online articles you found were a bit sketchy, but the guide book seemed solid enough. Given by a friend of a friend who swore his cousin used it and it worked out just fine.
The demon snorts.
âDidnât your little book tell you not to leave it up to me?â
âUm.â You shrug, feeling stupid, and human, and very, very pathetic. âYes. But I justâwell.â You turn out your pockets, empty as anything; thatâs why you summoned the demon, after all. You need your big break. A way to make money, to be successful, to finally have the lucrative career you always wanted. âI figured itâd be better if you just tell me what you want from me?â
The demonâs gaze narrows.Â
âWhat makes you think I would want something from you, little human?â He takes a step forward, and a warmth fills the air. Not a comforting warmth, but something unpleasant, like the smell of gas when you open a stove. âHow arrogant.â
Heâs going to kill you heâs going to kill you heâs going toâ
âBut there must be something you donât have,â you blurt out. âEven demons must be unhappy like we are, and want something different. Right?â Oh, itâs stupid, and unbearably human, but itâs the first thing that comes to mind. Honest, dumb thing that you are.Â
The demon parts his lipsâand then closes them abruptly. He tilts his head at you, gazing at you with a curiosity just as unpleasant as the bitter warmth around him.
âWhat an unusual thing to say,â he murmurs.
Heâs going to leave. He wonât make the deal. He might kill you, at worst. At best, youâve done all this for nothing.Â
âAll right. Iâll make a deal.â
You canât hide the surprise on your face.
âYou-you mean it?â Giddy, awful hope bubbles up inside you. âButâwhat will you trade for?â
The demon smiles primly. âSomething you canât even feel. You wonât miss it once itâs gone, I promise you.â
Your head is too full of anticipation to think about it further. The bitter air around you doesnât help, adding an almost hazy feeling to your head. Something you canât feel and wonât miss⊠maybe a talent you didnât know you had? Or one you did, but wonât miss after heâs taken it. You always did like singing, maybe heâll snap up your singing voice and shove it in his pockets. Or heâll walk away with your favorite genre of book, forgotten in your emptier head, no worse for the wear.
âDeal!â You blurt.Â
He does smile wider then, a grin. He doesnât have fangs, but that doesnât make it less unnerving.
The bookâs pages glow when he holds them out to you, and theyâre warm when he presses a quill in your hands and bids you to sign your name.
You do. Shaky, uneven. But your name, there, forever in the pages.
The book snaps shut.
You have only a brief glimpse of the demon before he disappears in a wisp of black smoke. As he vanishes, he says something, but you donât quite know what it meansâ
âChrollo.â
â
You canât feel a soul, and who knows when itâs gone? Not you, certainly. Though thereâs something jittery about the realization that youâve been walking around for years with nothing underneath your skin but your brain and bones and blood.
Did anyone else notice? Was some light gone from your eyes, never to return?
All because some demon had lifted your soul like a pickpocket. Through deception, through misdirection.Â
âDonât be so sour with me, dear.â The pet name makes your stomach roil.Â
That bitter warmth from so many years ago, the unpleasant hit that feels like itâs coming from a furnace, seems to rise up from behind you, pushing you into his arms. He still wears his coat, after all these years; an impractical looking thing, considering how hot it must be where he comes from.
How hot it must be, where youâre going.
He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead.Â
âItâs not my fault you didnât read the fine print.âÂ
#yandere hunter x hunter#yandere hxh#yandere chrollo#yandere chrollo lucilfer#afterwitch writes#aw horrorfest
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Cardio
Personal trainer!Sukuna x Fem Reader
WC: 1.9k
Content: MDNI. Smut. Vaginal Sex. Oral Sex (Fem Receiving). Fingering. Age Gap (Sukuna mid 40s, reader mid 20s). All Porn, No Plot. Modern AU.
A/N: Hi! Iâm trying to get back into writing and attempting to learn to write in second person. This is my first time writing an x reader fic so i apologize for any errors. Itâs a short one-shot thatâs basically all smut and just me trying my hand at something new. I may write a follow up to this fic if anyone enjoys it but mainly wanted to put it out there is all :)
Sweat beads pool on your forehead, and your breath grows ragged as you raise yourself back up following your final set of squats. A pair of large hands reach over, grabbing the weights out of yours and lift them away with ease.
âNot bad for a rookie,â a deep voice rumbles just inches from your ear, sending a chill down your spine. âYouâre getting better.â
Ryomen Sukuna. A local boxer whoâs apparently famous in the underground scene. You had never seen him fight or even knew much about the sport for that matter, but from what youâve heard, the man was an unstoppable force.
A couple of months prior, you had been complaining to your friend Megumi about wanting to find a personal trainer to help you ease back into fitness, but every option you explored was beyond what you could afford. His father had overheard the conversation and suggested one of his friends who did training on the side for some extra cash. Said he usually worked with up-and-coming fighters, so someone like you would be easy work for him.
Sure enough, whenever you had first texted Sukuna, he thought it was a joke. Itâs not that he wouldnât be able to train you, but he was confused why youâd even come to someone like him for help. He agreed and invited you over to his home gym, and ever since, youâve met with him multiple times a week to train. It was an unusual situation for him, but you assumed he chalked it up to easy money.
âItâs because I have a good teacher,â you smile up at him.
He rolls his eyes before placing a hand on your lower back to scoot you out of his way, letting it linger for just a second too long. âWhatever, brat.â
Heat immediately pools in your lower abdomen, and your mouth grows dry. He always does this. Touches that last a little too long or drift a little too close to places his hands shouldnât be. Occasionally throwing out questionable comments. Itâs not that you didnât want it; you wanted him so bad it made you ache. Watching the way he towered over you, his broad, tattooed shoulders glistening with sweat as he instructed your every move. You yearned for his touch so desperately. However, he never went beyond those little touches or quips, but God, you wish he finally would.
âHowever, your squats still arenât deep enough,â Sukuna remarked as he turned back to face you. He leaned down just a bit, his signature smirk plastered across his face. âYou need to spread your legs wider.â
His eyes carried a look in them, almost like he was daring you to be the one to blur the lines between what was appropriate or not. You had wanted to for a while now, but the bravery needed had not yet taken root.
âIâll be sure to spread them wider for you next time.â
You instantly cringe at the words you let slip. Heat rises to your cheeks as you immediately divert your eyes to the floor.
âOh?â
âIâ I meant Iâll make sure my squats are deeper next time,â you stammer as you back up. You lean down, quickly snatching up your keys and water bottle from where they rested on the floor.
âCome on, donât get all shy on me now.â He trails behind you, veering off towards the wall. His hand hovers over the panel to open the garage doors for you as his mouth starts twisting into a wide grin. âIf you want something, all you have to do is ask.â
âIââ The words you want to say die on your tongue before you can even utter them.
He stares expectantly in return, waiting for you to finish. Foot tapping against the ground for a moment before releasing an impatient sigh and brushing his fingers against the button that would allow your exit.
âWait,â you step towards him and gently tug the wrist that hangs at his side. His eyebrow arches up. You definitely had his attention now. âWellâ I was wondering if maybe you would wantâ â
Without warning, his hands are on your waist and pulling you in. You collide with his chest, and before you can even think, his fingers are forcing your chin up. His lips slam into yours. Thereâs nothing gentle about the way heâs kissing you. Itâs hungry and desperate. He wants you just as bad as you want him. His tongue eagerly slides into your mouth and massages against yours. You can feel yourself melting under his touch as you snake your arms around his neck. Sukuna grips underneath your ass and lifts you from the ground, your legs locking around him. The kiss never breaking as he carries you and sets you down on the ledge of a bench.
He pulls back, his lips slippery with your salvia, and sinks to his knees in front of you. His fingers greedily slip into the waistband of your shorts, sliding them down your legs in one smooth movement as he traces his tongue along his top lip. Tossing them somewhere behind him, he leans in and pulls your legs over his shoulders. A thumb presses against the damp patch on the cloth covering your cunt. The smallest whimper falls from your lips at the sudden pressure.
âIs this what you wanted?â
You canât muster up much more than a weak nod as he begins to diligently stroke your clit through the cotton.
âUse your words, brat,â he commands, retracting his hand away from the wet mess between your legs.
You look down at him, bottom lip slightly protruding at the loss of contact. âYes, Sukuna. Please.â
That was all he needed. He sinks his face between your thighs, tongue lapping at your clit through the thong. Sukuna deeply inhales as if heâs breathing you in, only to follow it with a guttural groan. A finger slips underneath the fabric and inside you. It curls, immediately finding that sweet spot, and rips a breathy moan from your throat. His lapping turns to sucking and the fabric quickly becomes soaked all the way through.
Your hands begin to explore his blush colored hair, intertwining with the strands. You gently tug on them before arching your back. Your hips buck in response to the stimulus, aching for him to give you more.
He grunts in response before briefly pulling back. Using his free hand, he yanks at your underwear in one strong motion causing them to rip. Before you can even protest, the remnants are hitting the floor and his tongue finds its way to your bare clit. A second finger joins the first inside of you, now picking up a faster pace.
âOh my god,â your mumbles are incoherent as you yank on his hair harder.
He releases his tongue from your clit, fingers still going at a steady pace inside of you. âRyomen is just fine. Sukuna if you donât want to get too personal.â
You looked down at him to be met with that shit eating grin of his. A thick string of salvia trailing between his bottom lip and your clit.
Arrogant bastard.
You dig your heel into his back in response, evoking a soft chuckle from him before he rejoins his tongue to you.
Between his swollen lips sucking on you and his fingers still hitting that sweet spot, it wasnât long until a heat starts coiling in your lower abdomen. Your heart begins to pick up and your moans grow louder as you approach your peak and in an instant, Sukuna is retracting his fingers and pulling away from you.
An incredulous look flashes across your face as you glance down. âSukuna.â
âWhat?â he inquires, his voice carrying a mocking tone.
Was he really fucking teasing you?
Before you can even react, youâre being hoisted to your feet and spun around. Your eyes are met with a mirror that completely covers one of the walls in his gym.
Hands wrap around your waist and youâre being pulled into him as his hard length makes itself known against you. Fingers, still viscid from your juices, slide up to your lips and part them. He hums in amusement as he slips them into your mouth while his other hand grips your chin and forces you to look ahead to watch your own reflection as you begin to lap the slick from Sukunaâs fingers.
He pulls his fingers from your lips, and brings his mouth down to your ear, his breath hot as it ricochets off of you. âI want you to watch whoâs making you feel this good.â
His sweatpants drop to the floor and his hard cock briefly rubs against your skin before his hand splays against your lower back, forcing you to bend over. He wastes no time lining his tip up with your entrance.
âYouâre fucking soaked.â is the last thing you hear as he slides his length into you in a quick, fluid movement. Heâs massive. You gasp at the sudden stretch of your walls trying to accommodate him before letting out a visceral moan. The pain quickly melting into pure ecstasy.
His strokes start slow and deliberate. He pulls himself out almost entirely before rutting back into you, wanting you to feel every single inch of him. Massive hands grip into your hips, holding your tender flesh so tight youâll undoubtedly be bruised for weeks. A hand wreathes itâs way down to your swollen clit, rubbing circles around it as his pace begins to pick up. Your eyes instinctively close for a brief moment before a sharp burning sensation spreads across your scalp. His hand, now entangled in your hair, forcing your attention back to him.
Staring at your reflection, he smiles, flashing his unusually sharp canines. His smile isnât smug or seductive. The look in his eyes is dark, he looks like he wants to devour you. âWatch.â
He drops his hand from your hair and places it back at your hip, while the other is still stroking your needy clit. His thrusts become faster, deeper, and desperate. Sweat drips down his contorted face as a mixture of grunts, moans, and curses slip from his lips. âYouâre taking me so fucking good.â
Your legs start to tremble as that familiar pleasure starts coiling in your lower abdomen. You watch as Sukuna relentlessly buries himself into you and everything starts to slow down. A white light flashes across your vision and you cry out as he pushes you over the edge. Walls pulsating around him, you feel your inner thighs grow viscous.
âFuck,â is all he offers as his breaths grows labored. He brings his other hand back to your side to steady you as he thrusts into your cunt a couple more times. Sukuna pulls himself out at the last second and paints your lower back with hot, white ribbons.
He steps back, reaching for one of his sweat towels folded over a nearby machine. The sudden loss of contact has you reaching out, searching for something to help steady your wobbly legs.
One arm snakes around your waist to offer you the stability you need, while the other carefully wipes away the cum decorating your skin. âI had thought of something else I wanted to have you do before your session ended, but I donât think youâll have enough stamina left.â
You turn to face that smug grin youâve grown to like a little too much, and glance up into his crimson eyes. âGuess weâll add it to next weekâs session.â
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driving lessons - Lando Norris
summary; Lando Norris x f!reader.
Lando wants to teach you how to drive, but what if he's not as good as a professional teacher?
warning(s); maybe grammar errors, fluff, angst
author's note; loved this request!! had so much fun to write. âĄ
--------------------------------------------------------------
It's not like you're afraid to drive, it's more you never needed it. You lived in a city and could order a taxi or take the train. When you met Lando, he couldn't believe you didn't know how to drive. He annoyed you for months to learn this. So here we are, in your little fiat 500.
"Are you ready?", Lando steps inside the car door and groans like a grandpa. "You need a new car, it's a playmobil!", he talks out of his mind. You roll your eyes, he's driving fast cars and is formula one driver. Of course your little fiat is not his favorite, but you love it. It's small like you are.
"Yeah I'm ready", you begin to sweat. What if you mess it up? What if you crash into a tree? You would hurt your boyfriend!
He promised this morning; 'you don't need professional driving lessons because i can teach you'.
Lando touches under your seat and pushes the seat forward.
"You're a minion, make sure you can depress the accelerator pedal without getting back pain, baby", he explains, completely focused on his job to be the best teacher you ever had. You try to depress and it works. You nod, ready for the next step. "okay,car mirrors are ok for you?", he checks on it and leans more into your lap. "Yeah", you look inside all sides.
"Ok try to accelerate and change gear into the two", he crosses his arms, leaning on the window next to him, totally relaxed. You're a smart brain so he doesn't worry much. You learn fast. But when he looks in your direction, his opinion changes fast.
You're afraid, he can see it. Your leg is shaking, your breath stops for seconds until you do it - and you messed up to start the car. "Try again, baby", he giggles. Such a rookie mistake.
You try again, messing up again.
"Oh my gosh what are you doing?! Drepress with your foot and let's go", he gets impatient. "I try, Lando!", tears are forming in your eyes. You're not stupid but it could happen so many things. It's your first time in a car and don't know what to do.
"Do it!", he argues. You try and it worked. It actually worked.
You drive through the empty car park and grin like a winner when you drive to an actual road, "babe I'm better than you!", you laugh. Lando shakes his head, hiding the smile behind his hands, "sure, you're winning a race with 5kmh". "Can you overtake?", he annoys, seeing how you slowly crawl like a turtle behind a motorcycle. "No", you press your lips together, happy a bike drives before you. You can drive in peace and not too fast.
After some time he tells," now drive in reverse and park in", he shows you the space for lengthwise parking.
Oh no. It's not much place. "Lando I can't do it!", you sweat, fingers are clinging into the steering wheel.
"My whole house could park here! You can do it", he wants to support you. "to park lengthwise is easy plus your boyfriend is professional racer. Nothing can happen", he touches your tigh.
You tip on your car turn signals and drive reverse. "STOP!", Lando screams his lungs out and grabing after the wheel. Something crashed because it was loud. "Oh fuck!", he steps outside and touches his neck. "You crashed a car mirror!", his face turns red. "Oh no", was all you could tell in shock. You can't believe you are in trouble.
Tears are falling down, you're a loser. Lando is mad. Ready for some trouble with him you look in his face.
"It's the funniest thing i experienced as a driver", Lando laughs his ass off. He really does, happy tears in his eyes and his squeaky laugh. "Baby the whole car mirror is away!", he cries even more, hands between his nose.
"Stop laughing! It's not funny!", you are disappointed about yourself.
"I'm gonna call my manager and then I'll drive home, babe, everything will be alright", he smirks, walking on your side and opens the door. He knees down and hugs you. You can feel the vibration from his laughing. "I think you need professional driving lessons.", he kisses your lips under laughter.
"Damn my girlfriend is a savage".
#lando fluff#lando x reader#lando x you#lando norris x reader#lando norris#lando norris imagine#lando norris blurb#formula one blurbs#formula 1 imagine#formula 1#imagines#fanfictions
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hcâs about a zoo day with Buddy and Monkey and how chaotic they are? đ
â trip to the zoo | buddy & monkey: double the trouble
oh i absolutely love this one, here's an adorable hc of a trip to the zoo with the dynamic duo! đ
buddy and monkey's trips to the zoo are always pretty chaotic to say the least, the whole day is an adventure for the dynamic duo!
"monkey! oo-oo! ahh-ahh!"
"whoa, look at the giraffes!"
"penguins! monkey, look, penguins!"
"lions, wow!"
it wasn't too bad when buddy wasn't able to walk, it was only monkey that she had to wrangle, but thankfully she wasn't alone in that as jordan accidentally spilled the news that the makeshift family of 4 were heading to the zoo, and soon it became a trip that the rest of the arsenal girls tagged along on.
once buddy learnt how to walk, leah isn't exactly sure who she spent more time chasing after given the excitement that both of the girls had.
it's also the first time that she realises it was a rookie error to leave buddy's pushchair behind.
wrangling both buddy and monkey at the same time was a challenge in itself, even with lia there as a pair of extra hands.
"buddy! monkey! don't run off too far!"
"regretting bringing the pushchair, huh?"
"don't even-- girls! come back here!"
"what made you think leaving it at home was a good idea?"
"I... I don't know, okay? monkey, do not try and climb over the enclosure! buddy, don't copy monkey!"
leaving the zoo with buddy in her arms and holding a tight grip of the back of monkey's t-shirt, leah felt like her stress levels had definitely reached a new level.
"let me go, let me go,"
"get off me, le!"
"this was supposed to be a nice day out, and instead i spent the better half of it chasing after you both!"
"i just wanted to show buddy the animals!"
"yeah, no kidding there,"
"you really should have brought the pushchair with you,"
"well, i'll remember for next time... maybe a leash as well just in case."
so it's safe to say that the next trip they took the zoo, leah was more than prepared to handle it.
keep the hc's coming through, there so much fun to write! đ
#buddy#monkey#chaos fc#separate fic#leah williamson x reader#woso x reader#scribbles asks#scribblesofagoonerr#double the trouble fic
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rookie mistake
dottore x m!reader
Request: Requests are open right? I hope so đ€ Would I be able to ask for a sub!(male/amab)reader X dom!dottore? With some blackmail and coercion, preferably leaning towards dubious consent but Iâm am a-ok with non-con elements, with a fatui/subordinate reader? If you could add in a small scene of him continuing while talking with someone outside the door thatâs be awesome đ - Anonymous
Synopsis: You accidentally invade Dottore's office in search of intel.
a/n -> yall i know that i said i was on the fence about writing for genshin, but it was dottore and i love him plus i really liked this idea despite it having collected dust in my inbox for decades. whoever requested this: i love your mind and im so sorry it took me forever to decide to write this!! but just a reminder to whoever sees this, i will not be writing for fontaine unless stated otherwise!!
wc -> 3.6k
cw -> non-con, blackmail, coercion, blowjob, deepthroat, literally getting caught, spit as lube, anal fingering, anal sex, standing doggy position, fatuus/infiltrator reader, guys he calls you a rat because you're a spy, not beta read
Your job was straightforward. But it was also one of the most grueling missions you've ever been assigned to.
With your status as an elite spy, you were tasked with infiltrating the Fatui as one of their ranks to gather information regarding the locations and purposes of specific forts to prevent potential attacks and keep the organization from acquiring knowledge valuable to their cause.
There was absolutely no room for error, lest you get caught and pay for that mistake with your life.
Fortunately enough, the mask everyone was required to wear (with the exception of the Harbingers) concealed your identity, allowing you to execute your orders with relative ease. Of course, it wasn't completely simple. You had to fight your way up the ranks in order to even get a hint of the plan from your superiors, which took years to even get recognized for your efforts.
Several times have you had to go against your moral compass. Several times, you doubted your abilities and questioned if you were even making a dent in the Fatui's plans. Although, when you heard a faint argument due to a lack of resources, you knew you were on the right track.
But one day, you noticed that an agent's office door was left unlocked. There was no one in the hallways, and not a soul knew that you had stolen an important document that recorded data for some valuable supply that you didn't care enough to read about.
Making sure you tucked the paper deep inside your coat pocket, you strained your ears to ensure you were alone before taking the risk and entering the isolated office. It looked like your standard room. Boring, silent, and strangely barren of many decorations. You took a moment to inspect the area before deciding to take a step forward when your blood suddenly ran cold.
"I don't use this office very often," a voice said from behind you. You just about jumped out of your skin, swiveling your head to the person behind you. It took you a moment to put a face to the name you'd heard so many times before, but when you did, you quickly regretted your decision to search for any additional information. "But even so, don't you think it's rude to invade someone's personal space?"
You froze, unable to find the right words. Nothing could explain why you were currently snooping around in an office that wasn't yoursâmuch, much less when it belonged to the Second of the Eleven Harbingers.
You inwardly cursed your naive eagerness to do more than you were asked. Your years of experience as a spy should've kept you from making such a rookie mistake, and now all your work was going down the drain.
The two of you stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, fighting the urge to fidget at the overwhelming feeling of his gaze on you, analyzing your appearance. He broke the silence with a hum, neither intrigued nor entirely disappointed.
"I have heard others spread rumors of a mole within our ranks but thought nothing more of their words as an excuse for their inability to secure our resources," Dottore mused, raising a hand to his chin. "I assume that the mole is you?"
You couldn't bring yourself to reply. Your throat was dry, and your stomach twisted into knots. Not that he cared.
"I must applaud your efforts," he said, a slight smirk decorating his pale face. "Not many people evade our eyes so easily, and for as long as you have."
"But, a word of adviceâ" He reached into his pocket, pulling out a familiar device. He presented it to you, watching in amusement when you suddenly patted yourself down before looking back up towards him. It was the device you used to contact your organization. "âMake sure you clean up after yourself. It's impolite to leave your items lying around."
You don't remember dropping it or forgetting it somewhere. But that didn't matter anymore. You were stuck in the present with no way of getting out of this situation.
He flipped the device over, dully inspecting it as he continued talking. "After going through your data log, it wasn't hard figuring out what you were going for next. While this normally wouldn't spark any interest in me, this resource just so happens to be vital in my current experiment, and I can't have you tampering with my results."
He walked forward, stopping just a few feet in front of you. He was close enough for you to inhale his scent of sterile rubbing alcohol and metal. It made your nose burn as you watched him intently, tensing and fighting the urge to back away out of fear of angering him somehow. The document in your pocket felt unusually heavy.
"Although, I didn't expect such a seasoned spy like yourself to make such an amateur move," he hummed, ignoring your need for personal space to pull your mask off. And you were helpless against it all. "[Name] [L.Name], is it? Why don't you read the paper you have right now?"
That's when you knew you fucked up big time.
With a shaky hand, you reached into your coat pocket to pull out the report, unfolding it only to realize that it wasn't a report at all. It was a blank piece of paper. But you could've sworn there was writing on it when you grabbed it earlier!
He could see the confusion on your face clear as day as a laugh left his lips, tapping a rolled-up piece of parchment on the tip of your nose to regain your attention. "I believe this is what you're after." With a flick of his wrist, he unfurled the paper that contained everything you needed.
"Whatâ" you gasped, briefly staring at your paper before looking back up.
"It's a shame you didn't think to check the ink before you took it," he said, faux disappointment laced in his voice before it reverted back to its normal tone just as fast. "The ink 'disappears' when subjected to anything higher than room temperature. When you put it in your pocket, your body heat, coupled with the insulation from your coat, affected the writing and turned it invisible."
Fuck.
He planned this out.
You swallowed nervously, taking a deep inhale to steel your nerves, even when it didn't do much to help you. "How... how long have you known?" you couldn't help but ask.
"Not long, really," Dottore casually replied, as if he didn't hold your entire life in the palm of his hand. "I caught you just in time."
"Now," he said with a voice that demanded your attention. Not that he needed to try, anyway. His very presence was almost impossible to ignore. "I'm willing to offer you two options. One, I hand this device over to one of my lovely agents and have them torture you for answers then promptly dispose of you. Or, twoâ" He waved the communicator in the air, taunting you. "âI have you make it up to me."
It was obvious which one you'd be more tempted to accept, but you knew that accepting an offer such as this from Dottore, of all people, was not a good idea. He knows he has you right where he wants you.
"The second one. I... I'll make it up to you." The words tasted like acid as you forced them out, watching a pleased smirk rise on his face.
"Good," he muttered mostly to himself. Leisurely, he turned around and walked towards the door, shutting it before refocusing back on you.
"Get on your knees," he ordered, placing his hands behind his back as he waited for you to move. He observed silently as you obeyed, staring at the floor in shame. "Crawl to me."
He sighed impatiently upon seeing the conflicted and perplexed expression on your face. "You want to be a rat so badly, don't you? So get down and crawl to me like one."
You were given no choice but to comply despite the absurdity of his request. Hanging your head, you inched forward as the cold, wooden floors painfully dug into your knees, stopping once the sight of his boots came into view. You held back a flinch when you heard the fabric of his clothes rustle as he leaned down to lift your head up by your hair, forcing you to your knees.
Instantly, your eyes zeroed in on the prominent bulge in Dottore's pants, making you painfully aware of what he wanted you to do next. With a suspiciously gentle tug, he brought you slightly closer to him. You could tell he was getting impatient.
"Well?" He questioned, a frown gracing his features. "You don't need instructions. Go on."
You glanced up at him with blatant disgust in your eyes before raising your hands to undo his pants and reveal his semi-hard cock. You suppressed a grimace as you held it in your hand, steeling your nerves just enough to be able to lick a stripe down the side. Flattening your tongue, you moved back up to take the tip in your mouth, letting your saliva slip past the corners of your lips to lubricate the rest of his dick.
You half-assed it all, not bothering to take it all the way down or, at the very least, use your tongue. However, Dottore caught on quick enough with an annoyed sigh. You supposed you shouldn't have been surprised when he tangled his fingers into your hair and shoved you down, but you were caught off guard either way.
You were embarrassed to hear a loud gag sound from you, choking and sputtering on his cock whenever the tip of it slid down your throat. You dug your nails into his thighs when he suddenly shifted and pressed the sole of his boot onto your dick, letting out a muffled cry that only served to please him. He made no move to rub it against you, simply keeping it firmly on your crotchâto keep you in line, you assumed.
You squirmed, internally cringing at the feeling of your drool seeping out the corners of your lips. Fluttering your eyes shut, you tried to focus on your breathing. In and out, in and out, in andâ
"Don't look away," he said, refusing to give you a moment of respite, shoving his cock all the way inside your mouth, harshly tugging on your hair at the same time. He fucked your face, ignoring your sounds of protest as he battered your throat. He laughed at your struggle, entertained with the way your tears gathered at your lash line.
"Awh, is this too much for you?" He taunted, shifting his hand to the back of your head to push you down to the base. He sighed contentedly at the feeling of your throat tightening and spasming around him, gently rocking his hips. "You should've thought that through before you accepted the job."
With a painful tug, he pulled you off of his cock. A trail of saliva connected you to him, which you quickly broke when you turned your head to cough into your elbow. He ordered you to get up, unwilling to wait a second before he hauled you up by your arm impatiently. He effortlessly moved your body, pressing your cheek against the wooden door as he pushed on your back, forcing it to arch.
Deeming your position acceptable, he tucked his fingers underneath the waistband of your pants to yank them down to your knees. Your breath hitched at the sudden change in temperature, refusing to lean back and seek any warmth from Dottore.
With one hand on your hip, the other strayed toward your ass, spreading it to inspect your hole. It took effort to keep yourself from fidgeting under his gaze, and you opened your mouth in a daring attempt to get him to hurry up when he suddenly spat on your hole, shoving two fingers inside soon after.
You let out a grunt, clawing at the door he had you lean against. It was an uncomfortably foreign sensation but you were in no position to struggle. A burning sensation emanated from your hole as his fingers forced their way inside, wasting no time to move in a scissoring motion. They brushed against a spot that sent sparks up your spine every so often, taunting you wordlessly.
"You're enjoying this," Dottore said, not as a question or comment, but as a statement. And the worst thing was, he was right. No matter how much your mind made you hate it, your body told a different tale.
You let out a displeased sigh, pressing your forehead against the cold door, not daring to make your words known. Not that he minded. He enjoyed forcing your reactions out of you just as much as having them given to him without a fight.
He made it known with a jab to your prostate, sending a shock up and down your spine so suddenly it nearly made your knees buckle. That was all he gave you before abruptly pulling away, leaving you uncomfortably empty until the quiet ptuh! sound of him spitting on his cock filled your ears.
Fuck. This was actually happening. And you had no way out.
In a last ditch effort to maintain your dignity, you tried to push yourself off of the door but was quickly pressedâborderline slammedâback down with a hand to the back of your neck.
"I don't think you'll enjoy the alternative," he said, the undertones of irritation and impatience evident in his voice. He squeezed the sides of your neck hard enough to ensure your compliance, nearly scowling when you shifted in place. "So be still and behave like a good little thing."
Without missing a beat, he lined the tip of his cock up against your slick asshole and pushed his way inside, forcing a strained cry from your throat. He made sure it hurt, purposefully moving slowly to make you feel every inch and vein.
You whimpered, trying to breathe and calm yourself down. The stretch fucking hurt and you instinctively shifted your hips forward in a futile attempt to ease the pain when Dottore held your hips to yank you back, shoving the last few inches inside you.
You let out a strangled groan, biting your lower lip to stifle your noises as searing pain tore through you. You breathed heavily through your nose, feeling the weight of disgust settle in your chest when you heard him sigh in satisfaction at how tight you were. You winced when he pulled out slowly, only for him to slam back inside with a loud slap.
You jolted, just about ramming your head against the door in surprise. You grit your teeth and pressed a hand against it as the wood audibly creaked and groaned under your weight when he began to move. You tensed upon hearing faint voices beyond the door, peering back over your shoulder in a pathetic attempt to get him to stop.
"WâWait," you muttered, breath hitching. "There's someone outside...!"
"Then I suppose you're just going to have to be quiet," he replied with an upward quirk to his lips before angling himself in a way that made his cock press up against you just right. You were disgusted to feel heat beginning to pool in your gut, forcing moans past your lips no matter how hard you tried to stop them. You covered your mouth with a hand as you listened to the noises approach. Dottore was (somewhat) merciful enough to press his pelvis against your ass, though that didn't stop him from rocking his hips to cruelly grind his cock into your prostate.
"Dottore?" It took you a moment to process the voice as electricity shot up and down your spine, trying your damn best to stifle your whimpers. "Are you in there?"
It's Pantalone, you recognize.
"Yes. Is there something you need from me?" Dottore replied, shifting his hold on you to start shallowly thrusting. You squeezed your eyes shut, listening to the painfully loud squelching.
"Not at the moment. I thought I heard something... else," Pantalone hummed with a knowing tone, sending a wave of mortification through your body.
"Then if that is all, I'd prefer it if you left," Dottore said, his amusement clear as day in his voice. He didn't even try to hide it as he gave you a punishing thrust, the resounding slap mixing in with your moan as it echoed off the walls. "I'm busy."
A laugh came from behind the door. "Very well. I'll leave you to it."
Dottore refused to wait for him to leave when he started again, this time fucking you so hard you were convinced there'd be a bruise. His fingers dug into your skin, yanking you back in time with his thrusts.
Your legs shook and you bit your lip until you bled, but it hardly did a thing to silence you.
"Look at you," Dottore mused, reaching around to hold your aching cock in his hand. He gave it a squeeze before jerking off the top half, focusing on the tip. "You were never meant to be a spy. You'd be so much better off as my little pet, wouldn't you agree?"
You let out a loud moan, instinctively looking down. You didn't even realize you were so hard, but as you watched the head of your cock drool precum onto the ground, everything felt twice as intense.
"NâNo!" You choked out, clawing desperately at the creaking door. "I'll neverâI'll never be your pet!"
"No?" Dottore laughed, sounding so unbothered it sent a spike of fear through you, reminding you of just how fucked you were. Swiftly, he swiped his fingers over the tip of your cock before bringing his hand up to push them into your mouth, making you taste your precum. With the palm of his hand, he pressed it against your chin to force your head back.
You let out a groan, feeling the strain on your upper back and neck as you stared at him with fear and disgust.
"I'm afraid you don't have a choice," he reminded, pulling out the communicator with his other hand. He slightly shook it, taunting you. "Don't you remember that actions have consequences?"
He pocketed the device as he slid his hand away from your mouth to bring it to the back of your neck, holding it tightly as he harshly pressed you against the cold wood. The side of your face ached, but, much to your horror, the pain only went straight to your cock.
"So just stand there and enjoy it," he said with a groan, his dick pulsing rhythmically as he savored the sensation of your walls clamping tightly around him. "Don't fight how much you like this."
"I don-" Just then, he rammed his cock into your prostate over and over, reducing you into a babbling mess that only proved his point.
Your eyes burned with unshed tears, ashamed that you loved the feeling of him so deep inside you, but you hated that it was him fucking you. You could feel the heat in your stomach intensify with each harsh thrust, feel the way your balls tightened in a way you knew you couldn't stop.
"Please..." you whimpered, weak against the wet slapping sounds that filled the office. "I don't want to...!"
You came with a whorish moan, arching your back as your cock spilled cum onto the floor. You could hear the sound of Dottore's laugh through the haze of your orgasm as sparks coursed through your veins, knees nearly buckling.
"Yes you do," he groaned, voice slightly strained. You could faintly hear his labored breathing the closer he got to his own orgasm, noticing the way his movements grew sloppier and weaker. He reached around again, jerking you off despite the lurking overstimulation.
You tightened, sending him right over the edge as he slammed his cock inside you a final time, pressing himself flush against your ass as he came. It was uncomfortably warm as he throbbed in time with each spurt, savoring the way you practically tried to milk him dry.
But he didn't let it last long as he pulled out with a satisfied sigh, enjoying the sight of you, shaky and vulnerable, before him. He graciously gave you a moment before commanding you to fix yourself, stepping back to adjust his own appearance.
"Now," he said, sternly, like he didn't just fuck you within a damn inch of your life. "Why don't you send a message to your organization stating that you're not going back."
He handed you the communicator with a smug smirk, relishing in your distress. Taking in a deep breath to steel your nerves, you accepted the device, reluctantly typing in a message before returning it back to him with regret written on your face.
"Oh, don't look so upset," he pouted, pocketing the device. You weren't sure when you'd see it again. "It'll be easier for you if you cooperate."
He made his way past you, opening the door, sending shivers down your spine at the sudden chill. "But right now, you have a lot of work to do."
cross-posted on ao3
#il dottore#reader insert#male reader#reader smut#male reader insert#reader#male reader smut#x male reader#x reader#dottore x male reader#dottore x reader#dottore x you#dottore x reader smut#dottore x male reader smut#cw noncon#tw noncon#genshin impact#genshin x reader#genshin smut#genshin impact smut#genshin impact x reader#genshin x you#dom character#top character#sub reader#bottom reader
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áŽÊÊáŽÉŽÉąáŽáŽáŽÉŽáŽ | t. stark & s. strange x f!reader
Step one: Work at one of the most successful research laboratories in the country. Step two: Don't fuck it up. Step two and a half: Do not fuck it up.
content/warnings: mildly dubious consent (sooo uncharacteristic of me), degradation, power dynamics, voyeurism, shy reader, org*sm denial, v*ginal fingering word count: 2.6k a/n: im having a small fixation on our favorite witchy doctor dont worry abt it
Shitshitshit!
You chastised yourself mentally over and over again, watching the bright blue numbers tick downwards. It might make sense to get up, scramble across the lab, fling your hand around the incubator and pull the plug. Thatâs what an amateur would do, but youâre an expert and know that will do fuck all for you now. Then again, an expert would have set the goddamned temperature correctly.Â
Youâd fallen asleep at your deskâa natural consequence of several late nights collecting data (or drowning in term papers and reports). In your half-awake state, right before your head hits the table, you set the temperature twenty degrees lower than it should be. Dreamland gave no clues to the impending doom awaiting you. Instead, you dreamt of a tropical paradise. Your sunny fantasia was inevitably interrupted by the persistent beep that echoed the labs walls.
The digits keep trickling down, and you rest your head in your heads. All you can do is wait for it to hit zero. Thousands of synthetic culturesâgone. That was two months of work down the drain, and your bosses expected a very long report, printed and neatly stapled by the end of this week.Â
You were so fucking fired.
The numbers finally stop, the computer beeping tauntingly as if you needed verbal confirmation on how screwed you were. You could not even begin to imagine how you would explain this. You worked at one of the best laboratories in the world, there wasnât room for rookies errors here. Especially not when they come from supposed wannabe professionals like you (and cost millions of dollars). Your first week some larger-than-life MIT grad used the wrong inventory system and was gone by noon. You werenât any better, just some Ph.D candidate trying to boost her resume.Â
The computer stops, and in its absence you pick up on the slight tick of the clock on the desk. The red analog reads 9:57 PM. Late, but not too late for your bosses to still be around. Youâre nauseous with guilt, but you canât imagine carrying it through the night, working with nothing through the rest of week just to get canned on Friday.
No, youâd accept your fate now.
If you were lucky, youâd only have to talk to one of them.Â
You donât have a preference for either. Stark had no issue showing dissatisfaction through his words, often sternly and without grace. The good part was that he was the same way with praise, although you rarely managed to earn that. Strange on the other hand was, well, strange. You barely interacted with him, but when you did you always left the conversation not sure if he despised you or merely tolerated your presence. It changed your working attitude from focusing on the science to scrambling for perfection to gain even the faintest ounce of approval.Â
Obviously, not well enough if you were making Alaska-sized mistakes like this. Both were equally arrogant (unfortunately, well deserved) and you knew neither of them well enough to plead for your job.Â
You make your way down the dim hallway, passing the empty offices and labs. More than one mental pep talk passes through your mind. The end of the hallway held your demise, a cracked open door holding an illuminating light and a pair of voices.Â
All you could do was hope they werenât too harsh.
Beyond the wooden door, you listen to two voices argue indiscriminately.Â
âI suppose you think we should just give it away.â one says exasperatedly, and you figure this is Stark by the sarcasm laced in each syllable.
âNo,â the other sighs, âbut our shareholders will never agree to this price point.â
âThe shareholders will agree to whatever we tell them to.â
âYouâre right, to a point. Still, we need to be realistic in our expectation of returns.â
âWe havenât done all this work for realism. We did it for profit and you want to sell our hard work to the lowest bidder.â
You tapped your knuckles against the oak door, heart beating in your chest. You went through a couple of opening linesâpromises about how this would never happen again and pleas for understanding. Logically, you knew neither were likely to be granted. The voices on the other side grant you entrance that you take nervously. Inside, Stark sits at the large desk in the middle of the room. Strange stands beside him, peering over papers that you presume sparked their conversation.Â
At the sight of you, both men seem to soften their hardened expressions. Whatever nonsense flared their words a moment ago is gone, replaced by confusion by their junior researcher at their door this late. Strange glances at the timepiece on his wrist before you can say anything, scoffing and shaking his head.Â
âYes, [y/n]?â
The annoyance drips, clearly not amused by your poorly timed visit. You wring your fingers in front of your body.Â
âFirstly, sirs, I want to apologize, there was a mistake with the incubator, and the cultures were destroyed.âÂ
You wish you sounded more confident, but instead your eyes dart between the men and the floor. Your omission tumbles out in a whiny tone, waiting on every syllable for their faces to turn and tell you how stupid you were and how much you cost them in time and resources. Thatâs not how it goes, however.Â
Stark leans back in the leather desk chair, metal creaking as his arms are crossed in front of his body. He makes an annoyed face, sure, but not the angry scowl you were dreading.Â
Strangeâs reaction is even more peculiar, chuckling slightly and glancing back at Tony.
âDid the incubator make a mistake, or did you?â he says lightheartedly, a grin stretching on his face, yet the words create a swell in your throat.Â
Tony seems to find it amusing as well, watching Strange stalk towards you. He stops in the middle of the office. Youâre less than two yards away, trying not to tremble under his gaze.Â
âI did, sir, Iâm sorry. Iâll gather my things and leave.â you whispered, hanging your head in shame.Â
Your feet are on autopilot, turning for the door until Strange speaks again.
âOh, thereâs no need for that.â he chuckles. âRight, Tony?â
You turn back to see him looking towards Stark, who hums in approval. Even more confused, you watch as Strange beckons you closer, and you obey on instinct.Â
âI donât think itâs a good look for a Ph.d candidate to have a termination from such a large company on her record.â Tony coos from his chair.
âNo, not at all. That might just tarnish her future.â Strange adds.
Their eyes rake over you. Stephen beckons you forward again, and you comply once more. Clearly, they were mocking you before giving you the boot. The condescending drip in their voices leaves your skin hot with embarrassment.
âWe wouldnât want that for you, sweetheart.â Tony sits up as Strange guides you towards the desk, a large hand resting on your back.Â
âI-I donât understand.â you stammer.Â
They both share another laugh at your confusion. Stephen stands behind you once you reach the desk. He nudges you forward until your hips are flush against the edge. Thereâs still separation, but not enough that you canât sense his body right behind yours.
âIâm sure a smart girl like you knows how valuable you are to us,â Tony locks eyes with you as Strange twirls your hair in his fingers. The touch shocks you to turn back to him, only for Strange to push you back to face Tony.Â
âEveryone makes mistakes, after all.â
Your eyes widen when Stephen presses his body into yours, easily towering over you. Heavy hands trail down your jean-covered hips, hot enough to burn your skin through the denim.
âWeâre very understanding, Iâm sure we can work something out.â Stephenâs voice purrs in your ear, warm breath tickling your throat.
The glittering look in Starkâs eye is all too familiar, watching Stephenâs hands get acquainted with every inch of your form. You shudder under his touch. The blood in your veins runs cold as you catch a wink between the two menâand suddenly, you understand.
âWouldnât want your career to end before it even starts now would we?â Tony taunts.Â
Fingers tease along your side. Soon, they work their way under your shirt, grazing the skin of your midriff.Â
Any lingering uncertainty is snuffed when Stephen presses further into you. The desk digs into your hips, trapping you between it and the tall doctor.Â
âI canâtâwe canâtâthis isnâtââ
Each attempt at a full sentence fails under Tony's lustful gaze. Itâs quite enjoyable watching you fail against Stephen. Recruitment always seemed to be just the prettiest research assistants. Who could blame them for finally getting an opportunity for a taste?Â
Not to mention you did just cost them a small fortune with your little mistake. Contrary to your beliefs, though, they liked your work ethic (and you, for that matter). Letting go of such a helpful piece of eye candy simply wouldnât do. That doesnât mean that kindness is a guarantee.Â
âNo?â Tony hums. âWell, we could always let you go. We can give a shining recommendation, of course having to mention your little incompetencies.âÂ
Being blacklisted would kill you. All you wanted was to work in this field. Years of late nights and term papers down the drain was a far greater loss than a few synthetic cultures.Â
âPlease, you donât have to do that.â you plead. Behind you, Strangeâs beard scratches your throat. His hands travel further north, dancing on the hem of your bra. Goosebumps spread across your skin.
âLike I said, Iâm sure we can all come to some sort of compromise.â Stephenâs voice drops low and heavy, enveloping on your covered breasts in his right hand. He squeezes gently, tweaking your nipple through the padded fabric.
âW-what if someone finds outâplease, justââ
âOh, donât you worry, honey. We know how to be discreet.â Tony smirks.
Your eyes can never seem to leave Tonyâs, watching his smile grow as your arousal does. Itâs against your doing. Stephen completely surrounds you, touching any part of you he could reach. You gasp when the doctorâs idle hand finds your other nipple, rocking himself into you as you squirm.Â
âI think she wants to keep her job, donât you, honey?â Stephen chimes in.
You nod nervously. If this would save your career, so be it. People have slept with their bosses for less, right? And you certainly werenât blind, both men were attractive in their own rights, able to pander through a catalog of women much smarter and much more their style. It begs the question why they were doing this allâcrossing such a boundary with a goddamned graduate student.Â
âOh no, honey, weâll need to hear you say it.âÂ
You barely blink, nor breath, all brain power zeroing in on Strangeâs heat pressed into you. Tony raises an impatient eyebrow and you manage to answer out of the need to appease him and keep your job.Â
âYes, Iâll do whatever you want.â
The second the words leave you, Stephenâs hand disappears from your shirt to push you over the desk. You wouldâve face planted straight into it had his palms not wrapped tightly around each of your wrists, yanking your arms. You try to sit up, uncomfortably pressed between Stephen Itchy wool suit pants and the wooden desk. Tony gleams down at you as the doctor keeps a firm hand splayed across your back, his right hand reaching around for the zipper of your jeans.Â
In the next moment, you feel cool air bend around your bare legs. Before you can have anything even remotely resembling second thoughts, your lace panties are quickly pulled to your ankles as well. Warmth flushes across your cheeks, feeling Stephenâs hungry eyes and fingers on your exposed cuntâall while Tonyâs eyes stay locked onto you, smile growing wider as your shame does.Â
That became harder the second rough hands grab the supple flesh of your ass before a teasing finger slid across wet folds. You squirmed against Stephenâs hold on your wrists, trying desperately to look anywhere but at your boss as you bit back a soft gasp.
âI think our pretty little assistant is feeling a bit shy, Stephen.â Tony declares, reaching out to caress the side of your face not pressed into the surface. It sends butterflies up your spine at how gently he draws tight circles on the skin of your cheek, humming in satisfaction from how roughly Stephen roams over your body.
âTsk, I hardly believe that, as wet as she is right now.â he murmurs, distracted by the mess you wish you werenât making.Â
You kept your lips pierced tightly between your teeth, lids squeezing shut when a long digit pushes into your aching walls. A deep groan from Strange echoes behind you. You hardly had time to eat, let alone maintain a social life. This meant it had been almost months since youâd slept with anyoneâleaving needy and aching from the simplest touch. Even if it was your boss.Â
You instinctively try to pull forward when a second finger is roughly added, and this time you canât stop the whimper as you stretch around him.
âThere it isâfeels good doesnât it? Donât be shy, honey.â Tonyâs voice sounds like smolding ice, freezing your nerves and setting your skin on fire.Â
You almost hate yourself for how good this feels, Stephen pistoning in and out of your cunt until the sounds of your arousal against his fingers flood the office walls. All while Tony strokes your face like you're made of fine china. Itâs far more than your body can handle, stomach already tightening with each pulse of the doctorâs fingers.Â
âGo ahead, honâ, tell us how much you like it.â
Your face warms. From his touch or embarrassment, youâre not sure. You stammer under the heat, trying to look anywhere but Tonyâs piercing eyes.Â
Stephenâs hand comes down strong on your exposed ass, earning a loud cry from you as you strain against his hold. It shouldnât make your head spin as much as it does.
âThat wasnât a request, answer him.â the doctor commands, gripping your wrists even tighter. When you take a second too long to muster a response, another strike falls on your opposite cheek. Your nerves are nearly disintegrated, still relishing good his finger feel stretching your cunt.
âItâitâs good, it feelsââ you cry out once more when he spanks you again, taunting you for being too quiet.Â
âIt feels really good, sir.â you say louder, nearly shouting into the wood as your legs shake.Â
Tony laughs above you, only worsening your shame. Itâs an easily forgotten feelingâStephenâs fingers curl inside you, testing each angle until he finds the one that makes you squirm. Soon enough, you forget where you are entirely, barely able to tell where your skin and theirs begin. Your high is far too close to care about the way Tony watches you, or how bruised your wrists will be after Stephenâs done with you.Â
Just as your mind starts to split into two, itâs quickly interrupted. Stephen withdraws from your soaking cunt, leaning over you to press you impossibly further into the desk, unbuckling the leather belt at his waist. You jerk your head up at the ache between your legs, meeting Tonyâs devilish smirk. Warm lips grace your ear, chuckling at your needy panting.Â
âAw, poor thing. Donât think weâd let you off that easyâyouâll need to earn it.â Stephen whispers. Â
As he sinks into you, you get the feeling this mistake will take quite some time to pay back.Â
#tony stark x reader#mcu fanfiction#seikkoiwrites#tony stark fanfiction#tony stark smut#marvel fanfiction#stephen strange x reader#stephen strange fanfiction#stephen strange smut#tw dubious consent
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Oh god, I was just giggling so hard at howdy anons ask and your reply about reader letting König wait (sending a smooch to you both â€ïžđ). He really deserves to suffer a little like that lol! Just imagining this guy, who likes to see himself as so strong and dominant, especially towards woman, slowly but surely lose his fucking marbles... And all because of that sweet little lady, who has his horniness in a bloody choke hold - not even realising the power she has over him. He's never had to show this much restraint... And he does hold back because, he even more likes to see himself as a gentlemen towards his sweetie (one who will absolutely ruin and wreck her once she let's him off his leash and takes the muzzle off). Poor little Köni.
I can see him letting out this sexual frustration at training for example. He is working these punching bags like absolutely batshit crazy. Destroying gym equipment, because he goes in so hard and has just soooo much pent up energy after every little cuddling session with sweet reader and doesn't know what to do with hit (violently masturbating after being with her hardly helps...). The other operators at the base gym just side eying him and wondering, if he now reached the final state of madness and silently prepare for the explosion that will wipe out all life on earth...
Also: we are really branching out with the toxic König brand here. First the institute, now the book club. I'm loving the growth here. Maby we can establish some kind of co working space next at toxic König headquarters, so we all have a place where we can thirst efficiently and just pump these numbers up even more for Toxic König Inc. (TKI). I can see an involvement in the stock market by next quarter at this growth rate. Maby some Tupperware-esk door to door sales to get more people hooked on to toxic König? (ok, that sounds to much like a cult now...)
Haha this is so crazy, all I wanted was to make Ghost happy, get him laid, perhaps even get him married⊠but here I am, 6 months later, having this blog and wondering which content warnings to slap on another König post where we discuss his obsession with virgins and their mythical hymen blood đ
He destroys the punching bag (RIP) and somehow manages to rip the pull up bar from the concrete wall. His deadlifts can be heard all the way to the mess â envious rookies would say König is doing it wrong, that it's a major error in execution, but the veterans know better... This crazy lunatic is simply having trouble with women (again).
But you know what would make König nearly faint?
When sweet innocent reader finally allows his hands roam a bit!
He's allowed to caress her waist as they cuddle, she even lets him bring his huge palm on her tits â it feels like the most erotic thing ever, just to paw those soft breasts over her shirt. And what happens next is that she rolls her hips â König holds his breath â she's actually pressing her ass against his cock. Of course they're still wearing clothes, but her movements are nothing short of sexual.
It makes his brain shut down completely, but soon he's panting in her ear, grinding his groin against the swell of her ass in rhythm with her movements. She doesn't stop him when his hand slowly, tentatively shifts down, then forces its way under the waistband of her pants â ach du ScheiĂe, it's finally happening⊠Can this be real?
His fingers slip under her underwear and arrive on her soft mound. He tries to shove his hand further down and into her folds but then â ScheiĂe â delicate fingers curl around his wrist and pick his hand up from paradise.
"Please⊠I'm just not ready yet," she explains gently, and the German curses in his mind are loud and foul as König tries to catch his breath and ignore the fact that his boxers are painfully tight and now stained and wet with precum.
"Let me lick your cunt," he offers with a hoarse voice while she's still holding him by the wrist, denying access to her. "Bitte... I just want to have a taste..."
Sweet reader goes tense and turns, looks at the soldier who has a funny accent and weird mannerisms, the soldier who was supposed to be a gentleman, with parted lips and eyes wide from shock.
"König, you can't say things like thatâŠ!"
#his head explodes after that#we thought he was a villain but NO this is where his villain arc BEGINS#she drives him to madness#I wonder what happens when König can't play the gentleman anymore đ„č#yandere könig#answered#könig x virgin!reader#könig x virgin reader
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ROOKIE OF THE YEAR AWARD
PAIRING⊠f1!drivers x fem!driver | WC⊠2.1k | Masterlist
Interview/comment clips⊠George, Alex, Lando, Y/n
âAs you know I love a powerpoint presentation so today Iâve created a powerpoint to show you why I am rookie of the year.â George begins, waving his hand about enthusiastically as you sit in between Alex and Lando.
âI wouldnât say Iâve got it in the bag, I meanâŠâ
âSo I thought Iâd start with a photo of me probably overtaking Lando here.â He introduces.
âIâm pretty sure Iâm lapping you there.â Lando exclaims as you and Alex try to stifle your laughter.
âNot sure, anyways. Fact one, most consistent qualifying position. Oh Alex, look at that. Whatâs that all about?â George cuts off the discussion before presenting a graph, not forgetting to take a dig at Alexâs downfall. You laugh as Alex and Lando begin to try to point out his errors and how heâs only been consistently last.
âAs we know, in Formula 1, consistency is key.â He finishes, pointing a finger at you as you notice how much your data fluctuates.
âFact two, Least amount of points behind teammate.â Russell presents his second graph, your result not being quite as bad as Landoâs as his goes into the 50s. âGeorge Russell, one point, Lando Norris, 58 points behind his teammate.â
You laugh along with Alex as Lando only sits there, unable to come up with an answer.
ââŠâ
âFact three, most positions gained on opening laps.â He shows yet another graph whilst you immediately notice how low Lando and Alex are. âGeorge Russell, two, Y/n Y/l/n, zero, Lando Norris has lost four and Alex Albon lost ten. Whatâs that all about mate?â
âYeah but you started at the back.â You point out.
âYou canât lose positions when you start last.â Alex continued your point as you look at the producers of the video for help.
âFact!â George exclaims whilst Alex still tries to reason his case. âIâve qualified P19 before, Iâve had someone behind me.â
The video would quickly cut to your âinterviewâ, your disappointed face being the only thing shown as you were unsurprised with Georgeâs lack of evidence.
His statement causes you to immediately start laughing before Lando soon joins in, Alex still trying to prove his point in the back.
âFact four, as we know Formula 1 is a lot about the cars.â The driver continues once you had all settled down. â2018 Formula 2 championship, fourth, Y/n Y/l/n, third, Alex Albon, second, Lando Norris, first George Russell, oh.â
Photos of the podium and Georgeâs celebration began to flash on the screen before an enlarged âFACTâ appeared, an obama meme quickly following.
âI was surprised that Williams gave him the confidence to show that. If thatâs what his presentations are then, uh, I expected more.â
âThe were real, they were real facts.â George points out as he walks over to you all, his hands placed on his hips.
âYeah, I feel like you were taking advantageâŠâ Lando begins.
âOf your bad qualifying.â You finish, a large smile on your face as you try to suppress your laugh.
âSo, you were consistently at the back.â Alex continues.
âConsistency is key.â George tries to reason.
âI think throughout the season you could have lostâŠâ Lando pauses trying to find the right words.
âOne position.â You laugh, sticking your finger in the air as George scowls at you jokingly.
âI think itâs a good presentation but not a convincing argument.â Alex finishes off your comments, before getting up ready to present his evidence.
âOkay so I donât actually have a presentation, so youâre gonna like this, but, uh, I havenât been very well organised.â He begins, trying to find his piece of paper beneath all the rubbish. âSo how do I do this?â
âUh, tick tock, the times ticking.â George comments as you chuckle at his statement.
âI was uh, a little concerned for him when he told me he was doing a rap.â
âIâm nervous about this.â Alex mumbles, an awkward smile on his face.
âIâm nervous for you.â You speak, he had previously told you that he was going to do a rap and you told him how great of an idea it was, obviously without including how amusing you found it.
âFor me?â Albon questions.
âYes because after yesterdayâs performance in that sky sports interview, that was shameful.â You reply, a smug smile on your face.
âThat was great!â He tries to reason.
âThat was absolutely shameful.â Russell comments.
âThatâs some great banter.â Alex says before turning to face the screen.
âHaha, heâs chatting shit like always.â
âThis has got all the characteristics of embarrassment.â George remarks.
âFor who?â Alex questions.
âYou!â
âFor me? Not for me!â He argues as you and Lando just sat there, waiting for the charade to end. âOkay, anyways ready?â
âThere once was this kid called Lando,
Who thought he could fill the shoes of Fernando,
He managed to bin a hotlap,
Sat your head in your hands,
But Johnny dug him out of the gravel trap,
Where are your one million Instagram fans?,
We came from F2, but we didn't have a clue,
But when you're off the pace and leave too much space,
Like how you did that in that Suzuka race,
Just know that I'll spank you in every race.
How about I introduce you to the only girl on the grid,
Sheâs joined the top when sheâs only a kid,
Missed a lot of chances at coming first,
Caused her to have quite an angry burst,
âI donât think so.â
Being behind me all the time must be a struggle
The stress of it all must be hard to juggle,
Qualifying for her never seemed to be so hard,
Maybe itâs because Iâve upped my guard.
Now onto our boy Russell,
Who likes to flex the muscle,â
âGeorgeâs topless instagram stuff that he likes to do, and I always give him rubbish about itâ
âThe only driver yet to score
What are you even doing this for?â
âItâs true.â
âJust kidding, I know you can take the flack
By the way, Lewis called: he wants his yellow hoodie back!
Last but not least, let's talk about me
Alex Albon, number 23
Try and stop me getting past?
That's fine, I'll get through on the grass!
I'm going through front wings like no tomorrow
I'm the asian Tom Cruise, so give me a follow
Last race, I came close to champagne
Which thanks to Lewis, never came
But now I'm here to state my claim
If I'm not top rookie, you must be insane!â
You all giggle throughout, immediately clapping once it finished.
âHe pulled it off soâŠâ
âPretty good performance, needed a bit more flow⊠just like his racing.â
âIf only he could do such a good performance on track.â
âThat was great.â George assured.
âYou could get a career in rapping after that.â You joke, still trying to remain serious.
âYou can take this home, uh, just to have it.â Alex hands you each a piece of paper with the rap on, trying to suppress his laughter.
âIâll hang this on my wall.â You say before Lando got up and got his presentation ready.
âI havenât got a lot to say, cause the video speaks for itself.â Lando announces before clicking the play button.
The screen quickly presents âReason 1 2 3 4: overtakesâ before showing a video from the race.
It shows Lando overtaking a Renault before having an explosion effect go off on the side, causing you all to laugh.
âThat came in a bit early but okay.â George comments before the video moves onto the next scene.
âOkay this one was good.â Alex announces before you point out how Lando was overtaking Alex himself.
The video has another explosion go off before playing the âyouâre going too fast!â meme as George quickly mimics it.
âReason 5: Respectfulâ Quickly presents itself on the screen before showing an interview between Daniel and Lando.
It then shows a montage of clips, the last few being slowed down radio communication causing you to laugh again.
âReason 6: Fashion iconâ
âI disagree.â You put your hand into the air quickly before letting the video continue, only to be shushed by the presenter himself.
âRespectful⊠yeahâ
The screen finally rolls the credits where it just all goes to Lando.
âLando, poor effort, really.â
âYou know, I expected more from him.â
You just end up shaking your head, a disappointed look on your face.
âWell youâre not getting a round of applause from me.â Alex comments as Lando just stairs, unsure on what to say before looking into the camera.
âI donât think it was my best performance. I think, uh, Iâve done better things this year driving on track.â
âAlright my turn.â You announce, stepping up from your seat and setting up your video.
âUh, so, my video contains less facts and just more about why I am the better person in general.â You comment, earning a few âoffendedâ faces before clicking the play button.
The video immediately cuts to a clip of you trying to do a three-legged race with Charles but it just ends up in the two of you falling over. The next clip shows you singing into your radio during the formation lap as your engineer tries to tell you to stop but just gets ignored.
âHaha, sheâs gibbering.â
These first clips earned a few chuckles from the guys before it continued.
The next clip shows you going into a hug with Sebastian when your helmets suddenly knock onto each other causing you to nearly fall over. The video finally ended with a few photos of you trying to do yoga poses with multiple drivers before showing a video of you falling straight onto Lando after a failed attempt.
âPretty good, pretty good.â George comments as you bow.
âOkay verdict.â Alex begins as you quickly sat down in a chair to join the discussions.
âI think yours was pretty good.â You say to Alex as George quickly nods.
âI think I had the legs on them.â
âI think Landoâs was worse.â George suggests as you and Alex quickly nodded.
âLandoâs gotta choose.â You announce as the boy quickly looks at you surprised.
âIâm like the deciding vote.â He reluctantly agrees..
âWell, youâre not the deciding vote.â George tries to reason.
âI know Iâm last.â
âI mean, Iâd still put me first.â
âCan I say why I think I won?â Alex asks before continuing. âGeorgeâs presentation was just facts, you know, facts facts. P19.â
âYeah.â Lando mumbles.
âIâm actually surprised you only went up two positions.â Alex comments.
âHe only went up two? In the whole season?â You questioned, shocked at his lack of improvement.
âDonât give me that.â Russell shakes his head.
âAnd with Y/n, there were no facts.â He finishes as Lando nods his head.
âItâs up to you Lando.â You say as he chuckles.
âIf itâs based on performance I think Alex has got it, if itâs based on the track, I think we got it-.â âPerformance on track.â
âI donât think I got the hand on them.â
âIâm going to have to go with⊠Alex.â Lando finally announces after a moment of silence.
âI almost agree, I almost agree, Iâm gracious in defeat. Heâs gotta have one to show no defeat.â George comments as you pat Alexâs back.
âIâll take the flack, Iâm used to it.â
âAnd you guys have a trophy as well.â Alex points out as Lando reaches back to grab onto said object, trying to connect the trophy back onto its podium.
âItâs my trophy, my only trophy- ahh.â Albon screams as he nearly drops it, causing you to laugh a little.
âHe pulled it off, he pulled it off soâŠâ
âYeah, like Lando said he needs to transfer that onto the track and heâll, uh, be in good shape for himself.â
âI think itâs gonna leak.â Alex points out as he pours redbull into the trophy.â
âOh, itâs leaking real bad.â You point out as Albon quickly drinks out of it.
âThank you very much, and uh, itâs detachable as well, so uh, I can put it in my suitcase.â
Bloopers/funny bits:
âI can see why Williams chose you after that presentation.â Alex jokes after George finishes, earning a laugh from all of you.
-
âLando could fit the whole post-it note on his forehead, itâs that big.â George laughs as you all sit there laughing with notes stuck onto all your faces.
-
âWhereâs my mouse?â Lando questions, his hands spreading everywhere trying to find said object.
âItâs there.â Alex points as Lando quickly finds it.
-
âCan we, uh, dim the lights.â You ask the producer as they quickly follow.
âNo, cause they canât see our faces you mug.â Alex responds before quickly laughing, causing you to roll your eyes.
taglist :: @topguncultleader @aurora-maria @oooglaabooglaa @teti-menchon0604 @g4ns3y @jivas0 @missskid @anicega @envisionracing @treehouse-mouse @navixfr @gulabjamoon @revemixer @thatsadsmallchild @ideajpeg
If you would like to be on the taglist please this out this form !
#f1 drivers#f1 fic#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 x driver!reader#f1 oc#f1!drivers x fem!driver#f1 x you#formula 1 x you#formula 1 oc#formula 1#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 x y/n#the paddock princess
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Shane Gang head cannons #2 Electric Boogaloo
- part 1 -
Hero worship be damned, Kord will punch Will Shane
There are multiple stashes of snacks in the Hideout. Some are booby traped
There was a moment in time when Eli was so sleep deprived, he wore his clothes backwards and inside out, and no one said a thing
The Hideout, being rather old and not having been in proper use for a handful of years, needed quite a bit of repairs and upgrades. Yet, no one has bothering to fix the gutters.
There is a rat that lives in the Shane Hideout, it's name is Randy, and no one acknowledges him outside of saying 'hi' when the rodent is spotted.
Fun fact, there was a mouse in my house like three years ago, i also named him Randy. Unfortunately, Randy is now dead :(
The Slugs of the Shane Colony have had trials,
like actual 'court' trials.
Burpy by default is the judge unless he is to take the stand as a defendant, prosecutor, or witness, and in those cases, Doc or Stinky become the new judge.
Trixie has tried (and failed) to film Eli singing
Eli hated mushrooms pre Drop, now they just remind him of chicken when cooked right
Hero worship be damned, Pronto will punch Will Shane
Kord likes romance movies
Eli likes action comedy movies
Trixie likes horror and just well shot movies in general
Pronto also like romance movies, but well done rom coms are also good.
Eli brought his mp3 player from the Surface, it's filled with a bunch of his favorite songs,
If he's having trouble falling asleep, Eli will pop in his ear buds and listen to music form his mp3 player
Don't worry, the Slugs make sure to take the buds out when their Slinger falls asleep
Pronto insists on cooking with bugs, he says it's for extra protein.
He's, unfortunately, right.
Trixie has filmed and posted a bunch of videos to the SlugNet. It wasn't until she joined the Shane Gang that her channel gained more traction
Trixie has a prank compilation on her channel that is just a compilation of all the pranks the team pull on each other that she is able to catch on Camara
The most popular Prank video is just the rest of the Gang referring to Eli as anything but his name for a whole day. And the Shane is slowly losing his mind.
Once, while undercover, Eli got mistaken for a kid skipping school and was forced into a classroom at the local school
Eli, being Eli, didn't say anything until the rest of the team had to come pick him up.
This actually led to the discovery of an underground ghouling ring.
Apparently, one of the upper class men found a berral of Dark Water, and after some trial and error, found out how to ghoul slugs and started selling their ghouling services for illegal dules
When Junjie joined the team, it was extremely awkward
For a week, Junjie was on bed rest before feeling comfortable going out on missions with them.
Junjie has so far been the only one to eat Prontos cooking with no complaints about there being bugs in it.
Junjie gets hooked on Kisses From a Hoverbug, but dose not admit it
Everyone has tried to prank Junjie, key word try, no one has succeeded.
Lack of information be damned Junjie will deck Will Shane
Two weeks after Junjie joining the gang, they have to go to Caverna Mall to get cloths and other things for him.
It goes as well as you would expect
This is also where Junjies slugs get their first real tase of not only junk food, but absolute chaos as well.
Joo-Joo becomes the fourth judge of Shane Colony court
Joo-Joo becomes a tyrant judge
Its a collective agreement to put the Infurnus in time out(in a shell) till hes cooled off.
All of the Slugs of the Shane Colony are protective of Doc
They just knew Doc was important long before their Slingers did
Rookie pranks Junjies slugs with his exploding ball things. It's funny damn it.
There is now a new tally next to Eli and Burpys. It's for Junjie and Joo-Joo, and how many fires they start
It's currently in the double digits
NO ONE TALKS ABOUT "THE GAME MASTER"
"The Jigsaw wannabe" as Eli would say.
#slugterra#bajoterra#slugterra headcannon#headcannons#eli shane#trixie sting#kord zane#pronto geronimole#slugterra eli#slugterra kord#slugterra trixie#slugterra pronto#slugterra shane gang#more brainrot#this is my apology for being late with chapter 4 of Champions of the West#IM SORRY OKAY#TAKE MY BRAIN ROT AS FILLER CONTENT#honestly didn't think i would add Junjie HCs but here we r lmao#slugterra junjie#junjie slugterra
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âPersonal Assistantâ Pt 4
Fandom: Saw franchise
Characters/Pairing: Mark Hoffman x fem/afab reader
Rating: R (just because of what itâs leading into for the next part)
Warnings/Tags: older man x younger woman dynamic (consensual though, obviously guys); boss x secretary relations; mild daddy kink; implication of face riding; bratty behavior; switch behavior (for both characters I reckon); mild body worship; slightly heavier with the feeding kink and fat fetishism here
Summary: You use overtime hours as an excuse to fool around in your apartment.
Authorâs Notes: Same as usualâsorry for errors I guess. The dialogue feels cornier in this one but I mean, I imagine thatâs how Hoffman talks when heâs not being serious. The man is a goober.
There was a debriefing in the main conference room first thing in the morning. Not necessarily related to âTHE big caseâ (as the Jigsaw situation was often referred to as), but something slightly less significant, for the benefit of the rookies. A little training wheels bit for them.
It looked a little strange to have you of all people hovering in the cornerâand you agreed. There wasnât a need for your presence. In fact, you probably should have stayed at your station, manning any missed calls or appointments coming through for Hoffman. But the boss specifically requested you to tag along, under the guise of taking notes or something cheap and easy to write off. Something people wouldnât question. Not that the precinct didnât have a notion about Hoffmanâs slutty nature and inclinations towards his younger assistant.
âI just wanna have your eyes on me,â Hoffman had told you beforehand with a sassy wink (usually saved for charming more pestering representatives from the public). âI gotta make sure I look good up at the podium.â He had lightly pinched your cheek before opening the door to a sea of badges and black uniforms.
And look good he did. In your opinion, at least.
Hoffmanâs slow, smooth trickle of words tranquilized you, even if he was talking boring, technical shit. You chewed at the tip of your pen, corner of your lips curling up, as you noted the way his belly rolled forward against his starched gray fabric, just enough to press against the podiumâs edge with a gentle bump as he shifted around. He absentmindedly scratched at the broad sides of his gut or made a gesture of adjusting how his pants rested on his waistâthings he knew would catch your attention. He was cheekily doing it all on purpose. He had definitely rounded out since you had started working for himâjust adding to the comfortable softness he already possessed from genetics and long hours behind his desk (feet usually propped up with a sugary coffee nearby).
As he spoke, you noticed also how gentle the curves of his face had gotten: chin ever-so-slightly chubbier, cheeks looking fuller against his plush lips and prominent cheekbones. It was cute. You ate up how a man who stalked around with such an intense and lumbering presence was really just a big fat teddy bear (one who whose lips were always sweetened by donuts and goofy flirtations towards you).
You finished fake-scribbling notes in your pad as the meeting was dismissed.
âDid I look okay?â Hoffman inquired as he shuffled beside you, making it look as if he was filling you in on some important task.
âYou look so good, pookie.â
âCool it with the âpookieâ.â
âSorry, Hoffy.â
âFucking âHoffyâ, okay⊠Thatâs fine.â He sighed, knowing you wouldnât relent with the babying terms. âI have to go to Sacred Heart Hospital this evening to ask about some records. I could use your help obtaining and tracking those documents, if you donât mind.â
âWhat if I mind? What if Iâm busy tonight?â
Hoffman leaned in with that shit-eating, stiff smile that only ever oozed out when he was frustrated. âItâs your job, darlinâ. You donât have a choice and you know it. I think youâre just being a brat again.â He pulled back, still all casual smirks.
âWhatâs in it for me?â
âWhatâs in it for you? The job you get paid to doâwhatâs in it for you, baby?â
âI mean, you would be keeping me after hours. What kind of overtime am I getting?â
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his pointed nose, and then lightly chuckled. âIâll drive you home.â
âAnd stay for a drink?â you prodded.
âSure, darlinâ,â he agreed.
ââ
Retrieving the information Hoffman needed was so menial that he hardly needed you. Though you knew your penmanship and attention to detail was a little more experienced, you still had to wonder how he had gotten things done things before hiring you.
Back at your apartment, you hesitated with the next stepânot sure whether to pull the classic âLet me change into something more comfortableâ, or let your boss work his way to peeling your office clothes off. All in all, you decided to just let things take a gradual, natural course.
âYou said youâd stay for a drink, right sir?â you peeped as your boss hovered around aimlessly behind you, taking in your dĂ©cor and tchotchkes. He seemed lightly amused by all the little details.
âJust a small one. You know I donât drink that much anymore, baby.â
âYes sir.â
He had settled onto your modest couch, leaning back heavily, lap spread (and honestly inviting). You scuttled your way over, working between his legs as you often did. It was your favorite spot, after all.
You put the glass in his hand and immediately went to loosening his dark necktie⊠followed by undoing the buttons of his straining shirt until the flesh between his pecs was exposed.
âDidnât realize I was getting the gold star treatment tonight,â Hoffman grinned languidly through a sip of bourbon.
âI just wanna dote on you a little. So donât let it go to your big head. This is more for me.â
âSuch a sassy little thing.â
âTakes one to know one.â You grabbed his hand, still gripping the glass, a treated yourself to a drink.
Your eyes raked over Hoffmanâs big form, which remained so deliciously comfortable and pliant under you. You inspected him with your smaller hands: combing gentle black wisps of hair from his eyes, padding your thumb across his lower lip, booping his nose and giggling softly.
âSee something you like?â
âYeah, all of it,â you answered. âEverything about you is so big, so sturdy.â You knew the saccharine onslaught probably sounded ridiculous and corny (and would probably merit some teasing later) but you couldnât help it. âYour big nose, these big, soft lipsâŠâ Your hand trailed down to the cleft between his pecs, a finger tracing over his pink scar. âThis strong chest with these broad shoulders.â Your palms drifted further down, caressing his sides down to his legs. âThese sturdy thighs I get to sit on⊠And my favorite: this big pillow.â You dug your fingers into the sides of his belly, jolting a tickled reaction out of him (which only made his belly wobble all the more under your touch).
âOh, youâre in trouble, babydoll,â Hoffman bit, tone both playful but snide. He set the near-empty glass down by the lamp table and slammed you onto your back threateningly quick, your legs suddenly hooked through his arms. âDoes this do it for you?â
He leaned down, doubled over your splayed legs, and pressed his gut against your crotch. The pressure was so heavy and warm, making you shamefully throb quicker than you cared to admit.
âIs that what you need, babydoll? A 250-pound weighted blanket?â
Your eyes flickered and went glossy at the mention of just how heavy he was. Such a hefty, cushy presence atop you, playing around with you, was all you could want. He could suffocate you with his weight and youâd be fine with it.
âYouâre such a little freak, sweetheart.â
âI donât hear you ever complaining,â you snarled back sweetly. âBut I guess itâs hard to hear you at all when your mouth is full.â
âCalling me fat again, huh, baby?â
âMaybe I meant something else by it, too.â
A dull glimmer shone in Hoffmanâs tired eyes, mouth catching up into an amused little grin. âMmhm, I see. You want the best seat in the house.â
âAlways.â
âWell at least let me get comfortable in your bedroom then,â he shrugged nonchalantly.
âOh wow, bold of you to assume.â
âCome on, sweetheart. Let Daddy into the bedroom and you can do whatever you want, okay?â
âYou make it hard not to be sweet on you, you know?â
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'I think it's time for bed' Ghost x Reader
Summary: Simon fell asleep on the couch after coming home from work.
Authors note: Heyy! So this is my first ever story. I never thought I would write anything let alone post it, but here we are. Also it has to be said that I don't have a beta reader so if you notice any errors or mistakes kindly point them out in the comments. English isn't my first language so I might have missed some errors. Have fun reading! <3 This is also posted on AO3 .
You were sitting on the couch together with Ghost, or how he wants you to call him, Simon. Outside you could hear the wind blowing through the leaves of various bushes and trees surrounding your joint home. Since itâs been getting colder, the wind was accompanied by some light rain. Not the kind of rain that leaves you drenched if you even think about stepping outside, but the kind that makes the nicest pitter patter noises on your roof. If you listened carefully, you could even, make out the water making its way across the roof and cascading down the rain gutters that ran along the side of your home.
Simon came home a few hours ago, seemingly pretty tired and ready to go to bed, but his face lit up and adorned a fatigued smile once he saw you. You welcomed your boyfriend home with a much-awaited hug and a gentle kiss. Together you ate dinner. During your dinner you made sure to make light conversation with him. Talking about how the weather suddenly switched up on you while you were walking home, or how there was a sale on your favourite snack at your local store and you were therefore indirectly forced to stock up again.
Dinner wasn't really anything that took tons of effort, but it was still as comforting as ever. A simple one pot pasta had to make do for tonight, but for Simon, he might as well could have been at a Michelin star restaurant. Having to rely on MRE's as his main source of calories during his time at work, has set his standards for food very low. A warm meal? With his partner? At home? He might as well be in heaven. Simon made sure to show you his gratitude in the form of cleaning up the dishes afterwards.
Which in all honesty, could have just been shoved into the dish washer and called it a day, yet he insisted on doing them by hand. Meanwhile you were sat next to him on the countertop and listened to him complaining about some new recruits that were trying to turn everything into a competition.
Being able to look at his face and watch his emotions flicker across his face while he was telling a story has always been one of your favourite aspects of your relationship. Simon swore a long time ago that he wonât be wearing his mask around the house, and youâve been grateful that he stuck to his promise. The privilege of getting to see his face wasnât something Simon granted to just anyone, and you are well aware of the fact. Making it even more special to you.
The story about the recruits ended in them trying to sabotage and deliberately throw other comrades off of the obstacle course. Some poor rookie had to get stiches because he fell off of the wall they were meant to jump over. But Simon witnessed how the recruit behind him gave the guy in front a not-so-gentle push, because the poor guy was moving too slowly for his taste. It goes without saying that Ghost delivered a long and proper talking to and maybe some extra rounds of running for the saboteur.
While his story came to a close, Simon had also finished the dishes. You both agreed that you only had enough energy left for a movie before deciding on heading to bed.
So that's how you found yourself and your boyfriend sat on the couch in your living room, watching whatever action movie that was currently running on the TV. You listened to Simon ramble and rant about how inaccurate basically every single aspect of the movie was. How they held the guns wrong, shooting for 5 minutes straight without reloading once, not to mention the amount of ammunition they would need to carry with them for them to be able to shoot as much as they were.
All you could do was listen to him with a small grin on your face. Only Simon would be able to pick apart some movie that was clearly produced in some warehouse in Hollywood, with a plot that never even saw the inside of a writerâs room. But of course, you supported your boyfriend in his strong opinions and joined him in his rant.
It must have been about an hour into the movie when you noticed Simon had stopped talking to you. You risked a small glance over at him and saw he was properly passed out. The stress of the day at work must have finally caught up to him. Taking the liberty, you turned down the volume of the TV just a couple of notches, making it so that the movie was now just background noise.
When you were designing the living room you deliberately chose a three-seater couch, ensuring that there would always be enough space for you and Simon to stretch out without hogging the space from the other. Leaning into his side of the couch, your boyfriends arms sat limply at his sides, his right hand placed on your thigh just above your knee.
Normally he would be stroking his thumb gently from side to side as a reminder that he was still there. Honestly you should have noticed that he was asleep once his ministrations ceased. You took a moment to admire how is face changed depending on whatever light flickered across the screen in front of the both of you. In your opinion, he looked the nicest in a subtle orangish tone, the warm light bringing out his faint freckles and blond lashes. Although the universe refused to grace you with your all-time favourite feature of his, his eyes. You would have to make do with Simonâs for once peaceful expression.
Peaceful, but not relaxed, you noticed. There was still a light crease between his eyebrows, even while sleeping he still seemed stressed. Thinking of possibilities to diminish his stress, you gently picked up the hand that was previously placed on your thigh, without waking him up. Simonâs large and warm hand lay limply in yours, and you started to gently massage his hand.
Running your fingers across his knuckles and the back of his hand. Making sure to appreciate every single small cut and faded scar along the way. You carefully turned his hand palm side up and started to massage the palm of his hand with both of your thumbs. The rest of your fingers were supporting what was now the underside of his hand. Your thumbs dug into the muscles of his palm running across all of the folds and creases, before moving to his fingers.
Feeling his fingerprints underneath your fingertips made it feel like he was your missing puzzle piece you have been searching for all your life. Two separate people coming together to make a whole. You couldnât stop the smile that was now plastered on your face.
Glancing back at Simon, his eyebrows seemed to have relaxed a bit, but not enough for your liking. You had to take drastic action. You lifted your dominant hand to his face you stroked your thumb across the space between his eyebrows in hopes of completely erasing his frown. Your mission was a success, he stopped frowning.
However, he was now blearily blinking awake. The universe obviously had chosen to show mercy today and decided to grace you with his dreamy eyes once again. Your hand slid a bit lower, now resting on his cheek, your thumb still lazily stroking the side of his face.
With a small smile you told him: 'I think itâs time for bed'.
#ghost x reader#ghost x y/n#call of duty#cod mw2#ghost cod#cod x reader#call of duty modern warfare 2#simon ghost riley
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Chasing Cars
Premise: Itâs the first day of a new intern year, and Ethanâs patience is at an all-time low.
Book: Open Heart Characters: Ethan Ramsey, Sienna Trinh, F!MC (Cassie Valentine) Rating/Category: General. Fluff. Words: 975
A/N: This fic is set during Book 1, Ch 2 when Sienna tells Ethan Dr. Toussaint is looking for him. I got inspired by my new re-read and @dr-colossal-pita saying "Do it!" lol
Ethan Ramsey had just stepped off the elevator when he heard the familiar sounds of a Code Blue being called. He didnât have a patient on this floor with severe enough complications to warrant the Code team. So, he didnât pay any attention to it.
Mentally reviewing his to-do list, he strode towards the nursesâ station to check in on the patient heâd assigned to Valentine and Emery. Heâd already had two run-ins with the former but had yet to meet Harperâs niece.
When they had worked on the emergency thoracotomy this morning, Ethan hadnât connected the fresh-faced intern in scrubs with the Valentine whose residency application had caught his eye. It was early days, but he had high hopes for her.
If only she didnât make him so damned nervous.
Both times they met today, something unspoken passed between them. It was unnerving for a manâan accomplished doctorâin his mid-thirties to feel this antsy about a woman, and an intern at that.
He shook his head at the unruly thoughts crowding his head. Shake it off, Ramsey.
Ethan was about to pull up the patient chart when panicked voices echoed from his patientâs room. He immediately recognized one of them and, recalling the Code Blue, rushed down the hall to ensure the interns hadnât killed anyone.
âWhat the hell is going on in here, Rookie?â Ethan barked, glaring at the two interns.
âShe was allergic to the antibiotics I prescribed,â Valentine explained, breathless from performing chest compressions.
Ethan, whoâd been expecting a dozen feeble excuses and was ready to blast through all of them, paused at the thoughtful response.
âWell⊠at least you're taking responsibility. Sometimes, patients don't know about their own allergies. Thatâs why you always have to be cautious.â
He was surprised at how calm he sounded. Unfortunately for Valentine, it didnât last long.
Despite the successful save, Ethan waited until Varma was gone before turning his ire back to the person who had let him down mere hours after promising they wouldnât.
âAnd youâŠâ he folded his arms across his chest and glared at Valentine, âyou need to have a long, hard think about whether or not you're ready to be here. It doesn't matter that itâs your first day, or that you're still learning. Whether this girl lives or dies is on you.â
ââŠI know, Dr. Ramsey.â
Ethan could tell she was remorseful, but medicine was a life-or-death business. There was little room for error. The training wheels were off. He needed to make sure she understood that.
âYou still have no idea what's wrong with her, and your first effort nearly killed her. This is the real world. No room for mistaââ
âHi! Dr. Ramsey? Sorry to interrupt.â
âFor the love of god, what now?â
He turned at the sound of a perky voice and nearly cursed at the sight of the petite intern. She lingered awkwardly in the doorway, staring at him as if heâd sprouted horns and a pitchfork tail. Great. Now he was the ogre.
âOne of the nurses told me⊠that one of the other interns told them⊠that one of the doctors saidâŠâ
âSkip to the point,â he said, impatience coloring his tone. He really hated the first day of intern year.
âDr. Toussaint needs to see you urgently!â
Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose and mumbled under his breath, âLord save me from interns.â
He threw Valentine a warning look. âRemember what I said, Rookie. Next time I see you, you'd better have solved this case.â
The other intern jumped out of his as he swept out of the room and stomped toward the elevator bank.
What the hell did Toussaint want? If this was about the annual charity golf tournament again, Ethan had a few choice words about where the other doctor could shove his invitation.
The elevator was crowded, and Ethan muscled his way off when it stopped at Toussaintâs floor. He marched down the quiet hallway where a few senior doctors had offices. At this time of day, most were in the clinic or department meetings.
That was fortuitous because he was not in the mood to make small talk. He was running behind, first because of the Code Blue and now this unplanned detour.
Why couldnât the man have just emailed him or sent a page instead of dispatching an intern?
âRamsey?â Toussaint looked up in surprise at his perfunctory rap on the half-open door. âWhat can I do for you? Let me guess. You changed your mind about the golf tournament?â
âNo,â said Ethan, leaning against the doorjamb. âI heard you wanted to see me.â
âNot me,â said the other doctor, stepping out from behind his desk. âIâm on my way out, in fact. Are you sure they said it was me?â
Ethan thought back to the interaction on the fifth floor and the chance interruption that had cut short his blistering putdown. His eyes narrowed to blue steel. Maybe it hadnât been a coincidence after all, but a carefully planned tactic to protect a fellow intern.
âIt was an intern, so who even knows if they got it right,â Ethan muttered, raking a hand through his hair.
âOr youâve just been hazed,â Toussaint laughed, clearly enjoying his predicament.
Rather than argue, Ethan nodded and waved goodbye.
As he waited for the elevator, the shrill beep of his pager pierced the quiet. Ethan cursed under his breath, suddenly remembering he was supposed to be at a diagnostics team meeting.
On top of everything else, Naveen was acting strangeâsecretive, even. What was that about?
One thing at a time, Ethan told himself. Right now, his focus had to be on his patients and ensuring the interns made it through the first day in one piece. Naveen could wait a little longer.
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All Fics & Edits: @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @jerzwriter @justyourusualash @lady-calypso @kyra75 @mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @snoopdogcone @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction @loreofyore
Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics
Ethan & Cassie only: @cariantha @custaroonie @youlookappropriate
#open heart#ethan ramsey#choices open heart#open heart fanfic#open heart fanfiction#choices fanfic#choices fanfiction#ethan ramsey x mc#ethan ramsey x cassie valentine
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hey!!!
I was wondering, how would Ghost react to the reader scolding him?? like, something happens that disrupts the mission and it's his fault and the reader scolds him, not aggressively, but still I would like to know Ghost's reaction
Also, the idea that he and the reader have a romantic relationship but he's still a bit strict :)
(I used the translator to write all this!! sorry if there are any translation errors, English is not my native language :D)
WALK AWAY FROM THE SUN
â SIMON âGHOSTâ RILEY X READER
â AO3 | MASTERLIST | EVENT
â WORD COUNT | 3k
â WARNINGS | canon typical violence, hurt/comfort, mentions of weapons, arguments, mentions of trauma.
â SUMMARY | you often meet ghost at his shortcomings, but nothing serious as this has yet to happen.
â AUTHORâS NOTE | tysm for the request đ«¶đ«¶ i wanted to expand on this just a lil but made sure to keep the original prompt, i hope you enjoy!! hope the scolding isnât too strict :)
Ghost thinks heâs having trouble breathing.
He doesnât know if itâs because of the worry sanctioning in his chest, or the bullet lodged in his ribs. It takes a few seconds, he breathes, and a slightly ragged puff of air crawls its way back up his esophagus. Shallow wounds never hurt him, but ones that fester in the mind nearly paint his vision black.Â
It was a bad mission, destined to go wrong the moment Price laid out the plan. Too many HVTs to secure in such a dangerous zone, touched down in a land similar to post scorched earth. Calls of concern were dismissed by Shepherd, this mission was too important to let go, and they were to complete it, no matter the cost.
Nevertheless, things went south, fast. Nearly an entire squad of foot soldiers dead in under one hour, and only 2 out of 4 targets eliminated. It wasnât long before Price called in evac, the missionâs end along with it. There was always time again to try again. Until the screaming started, and Ghost was nowhere to be found.
It was capture or kill, and it was certain no one was getting captured at this rate. Youâd seen it all, the look he gave Price as he was getting into contact with Shepherd, and the miniscule shake of his head as he tightened his gear. The screams were yours, are you out of your fucking mind?-- hair whipping against the wind as you watched him disappear into the flames, yelling for the pilot to touch down.Â
Any sane soldier would have shaken their head and waved to confirm exfil, but this was nothing near normal. The 141âs purpose isnât sanity, itâs loyalty. Price wasnât going to allow himself to lose more than one soldier, and it was apparent that you were leaving with or without his permission. He strapped a tracker to your vest before you jumped.
Ghost wasnât expecting to get shot. Maybe the adrenaline kicked in too early, or maybe the opportunity was just too good. The last two HVTs right in his line of sight, running through the open, unarmed.Â
Or so he thought.
He sits slouched against a wall, the hand clamped over the bulletâs entryway growing progressively more damp as the minutes pass. He shouldâve expected someone with a target on their back to run around with a gun, anything lethal, even, especially after watching his friendâs jugular fly from his neck. Pointed a gun and blindly shot. A rookie mistake that put him and his whole squad at risk because of some halfhearted words Shepherd hammered into his head.Â
He believes in no matter completely. Maybe thatâs where he comes short.
Frankly, Ghost isnât even worried about the lingering pain in his abdomen, or the fact that the last target escaped. Heâs worried about the person coming to find him. Something in the back of his head grows into a throbbing pain in the frontal lobe and he closes his eyes, hoping itâs not you thatâs coming.
Who could he be kidding? Of course you were going to come for him. You always did, and always will. Itâs a danger that follows when you happen to love someone you run into the frontlines with. Something that was going to get one of you killed one day, purely because he knows heâd do the exact same thing.
Ghost curses under his breath. Youâre just like him sometimes, blindsided and hard headed as they come.Â
Falling debris and the thud of boots join the rasp that serves as his breathing. Youâre here, and it looks bad, worse than he expected. Your eyebrows are knit tightly together, and he can see the dribble of blood that rolls down your chin due to how hard you bite your gums. Your skin is laced with sweat, and youâre panting, hard.Â
Heâs only been bleeding out for three minutes. With you here, it feels like an eternity, and the grasps of something much worse than death are holding time still. When he finally shifts his lips to speak, you shove a cloth against his ribcage, hard. All that comes out is a strangled grunt, and he falls silent. No one renders him as speechless as you do.
He hasnât felt so small since his father. Itâs deserving, every last bit of it. He let go of himself and you still came to save him. He should be feeling nothing short of gratitude, yet he only feels as though someone dragged him into the undertow and left him to drown there. The way you refuse to meet his eyes strikes harder than any other bullet, and for the first time, he doesnât know what to do.Â
All he can feel is the fear that you have instilled in him, and his consciousness slips before he can think of anything else.
â
Forgiveness is a hard thing to earn. In the 141, it seems more rational to die than seek it.
Ghost doesnât consider death. Heâs considered nothing, not since a bullet put him into a coma for a week. In that time, he dreamt of choppy waters and black riptides. The slosh of imaginary waves greeted him more times than your voice did.
He only remembers it once. You asked one of the nurses how he was doing. When she said heâd wake up, you left.
You donât wait up on people, Ghost knows that. No part of him holds the expectation that you wouldâve cared just a little more and stuck around. You knew heâd live, and that was the end of it. You walk away from the sun when it burns you.
When it comes to the battlefield, youâre cold as ice and follow rational orders to a tee. You keep your head on straight until you donât, because taking care of others feels better than sprinkling soil over an empty grave. The way you think is profound yet humanity never fails to escape you, itâs what dragged you to him, stone-eyed and indifferent on the surface.Â
People around him always say itâs impossible to get attached in the military. He almost believes them, but he thinks of you and all else fades. Like a moth to a flame, he knows youâd follow his trail into hysteria. He knows it frustrates you, habits such as those are hard to shake. Youâve spent too much time by his side to quit. Couldnât shake you even if he wanted to.
It reminds him of three years ago, with you curled up beside him in the depths of Syrian mountains. Youâd offered him some bourbon for the painâ heâd been stabbed in the leg, covering up with the excuse that itâd help with the cold. You knew how to tempt him, just one drink turning into the whole bottle empty at your feet. Only you could make him succumb to something like that, listening to you ramble on about how careless he was to get stabbed, hours of it, the coziness of you and the blankets drilling static into his head.
Ghost could hold his alcohol better than you. Barely felt a buzz from the drinks in his system. But this.. your head lightly bobbing against his shoulder, haphazardly checking on his bandage before kissing the exposed skin beside it. You were right, his whole body was on fire, so enamored with you, the feeling of home creeping along his skin in short, fatigued breaths.
He vaguely remembers when you turned to your side, hands hot on his pulse and sinking underneath. Everywhere, you were everywhere. You had taken him by storm and the buzz of the bourbon heightened his senses to a point where it was nearly unbearable. It took every fiber of his willpower to listen, straining against the irrevocable hold you had placed on him, fighting to restrain himself.
Amidst the haze, you asked him if he would do something for you. In that state, Ghost thinks he wouldâve tried to overthrow the entire planet if you wanted him to. Instead, you uttered something short of ten words, and he made one of the biggest mistakes of his life when he answered.
âPromise me youâll look out for yourself, Simon.â
Your inquiry seemed small, fragile, and simple to be compliant with in the moment. He shuns himself for failing to remind you of who you were, what you were fighting for, and that looking out for yourself is a restraint only some can hope to afford. Itâs a luxury that separates people who want to save the world from those who do.
âAlright, then.â
Drunk or not, he made a promise. Broke it just as easily. He resists the urge to bash his head against the wall as consciousness returns to him, opting to thank the nurse with a few words scribbled on a napkin before disappearing.Â
As much as he wants to scrub the sickening scent of antiseptic and illness from his skin, Ghost canât bring himself to visit your room right now. He knows youâll check the infirmary soonâ despite what you say he knows you stop by, even if itâs for a second, yet he opts to leave base regardless if you come to find him or not. Heâd rather speak to you when youâre on those terms. Guessing by the freshly washed sweatshirt that sits zipped up to his neck, you probably donât want him dead.Â
Heâll cut his losses there.
â
The early hours of the morning creep along the skyline, spilling over the roads below. You walk, dismissing the dull ache in your feet from miles of dug up sidewalk and the scorching ground you had run across some days ago. Itâs not long before the breeze picks up the scent of saltwater, light ripples rock calmly against marsh and you sigh.
You knew heâd be here. Always came when tragedy struck and life wasnât fair. It reminds you of a homage after nights of terror in Urzikstan, peaceful, and nothing else. Somewhere you go when you canât quite reach the ocean.
Ghost sits with his back to the sun, perched against a dock overlooking the water. Your legs come to a stop, and you stand still, wondering if this was all a mistake. Maybe you should just turn around while you can, run to the safety of a home that only carries a lingering scent of him. Here, the breeze makes you nauseous.Â
Everything here is riddled with sorrow and buried in tears. The cycle repeats, you think you deserve to cry.
You take a look to the sky and the clouds point you offshore. Saline winds pull you farther and itâs too late to reconsider leaving when your foot creaks against the dock. Ghost catches you in his peripheral, approaching slowly, the distance polarizing. It feels like glass is lodged in your feet. The gap waged feels something like No Manâs Land.Â
Ghost sits on the edge, one leg hanging over the water while the other sits folded at the knee. You lean against a support beam across from him, one glance and you think you might choke. Flashing rays dawn over the baclava settled over his face, drawing light to the skin bridged above his nose. Eyebags crawl and tear at paint ridden skin, blond eyelashes fluttering against smudged black, over the one part of him that feels normal. Nothing else does.
He stares ahead, umber hues washing over ripples cast by fish in waiting. You feel like you do everytime you come here, except sadness is held back by frustration, boiling underneath your skin and rising to the surface. Moments pass, the breeze dies down and beckons for you to speak.Â
âYou broke your promise.â Pressure settles within your chest. Hurt floods the atmosphere and Ghostâs eyes leave the water. He thinks, you lie in wait, arms crossed defensively over your chest.Â
âYou canât rely on intoxicated words.â
Itâs fair, yet completely unfair at the same time. You know it was an unreasonable thing to ask, came straight from the alcoholic worry that seethed in your mind. Normal people donât make promises they know they wonât be able to keep. People that care too much ask of them.
âDrunk words are sober thoughts.â
Ghost says nothing. You know he wanted to keep that promise. Held it over his heart for three years, let it slip under his sleeve as all other things do. Something that happens when war is all you know. He knew you, too, but warfare is different from anything else. You understand that.
The smell of antiseptic reeks off of him, the sun licks at black paint and chips crumble. Heâs nonchalant on the surface like always, but you know him. Underneath blood stains the hole in his abdomen that put him here. He leans toward it as if pain has become him.
Heâs always been like this, body hungry for violence, mind begging for reconciliation. Itâs how his mind is wired, shutting doors on people makes them want to close it in anotherâs face. You learned to coincide with it, but thereâs still a line. The fact he crossed it so easily sparks the worry within and you fight the tears that push against your sockets.
Anger resides and reels back in, lapping at the shore and bringing you to your knees. You fear youâll lose him that way.
Itâs all you think about.
âWhat made you think that was a good idea?â You bark, grasping his chin to face you head on. âYou think putting yourself in danger is no big deal, donât you? Worried everyone sick because of a stupid HVT.â
He sees right through you. Worried me sick, he hears it as he would an echo. Itâs a profession of worry, he knows you worry because you love him.Â
âWe all have to make sacrifices.â His response is a dull front, you hear the guilt laced within. âYou know that.â
You do. Things stay strict on the battlefield and remain that way. Until itâs him. When thereâs Ghost, thereâs always Simon. You learned to make that exception because you understood that. Ghost is not afraid to die. Simon is.
âWhat good are you to anyone if you throw yourself in the line of fire?â You spit, pointer finger snapping to hover above his wound.. âThereâs no guarantee that someone will always be able to save you when things go wrong. You know that.â
He knows that, and he knows you.Â
You know thereâs a darkness that lingers within him. Itâs inevitable. Something that festers, building up until itâs strong enough to lash out. Itâs selfish, cares and waits for no one. A walking death sentence that hangs over his head no matter the value he places in his life. It chases him in his dreams, trails a dark shadow over his head that turns him into the person he fears heâd become. Adapted him so the only thing he feels when he pulls the trigger is recoil.
âWe win together, and we fail together, Simon. Itâs not your responsibility to change that.â
He hates that side of his head that made him think otherwise. Hates himself more when he makes you worry.Â
Old habits die hard. Itâs not easy to take, the way he knows those parts of him linger. You know when it comes, the front he manages with surgical precision shatters and he breaks down into hysteria because itâs too much for one person to handle.Â
Regardless, he tries. You love him for that. He loves you because you walked into his life and it gained purpose.
All thatâs good in his life comes from you. The first nights in his life he felt welcomed to sleep because you were in bed beside him. Days fly by and he changes. You change with him. The small room he occupies at base doesnât seem so lifeless anymore because youâre always in it.Â
He damns the way you smile at him, infectious, a snapshot memory he keeps in his thoughts. Thoughts that draw a compass in his mind that routes home to you.
Every part of him feels selfish for making you feel this way. It tears through him as a knife does and his nerves flay from the heat.
âIâm sorry, lovie.â It feels like heâs suffocating, drawing on the tears that slide down your face and drip onto your hands. He takes dampened skin and holds onto it as if heâll lose you forever if he lets go. ââM so sorry that I made you worry. Bastardish thing to do.â
His accent is heavy, dripping with resent and pleading for composure. Itâs everything and nothing all at once. Your tears stain his hands and he feels like he always does when things go wrong. Except, itâs always you who quells him in the midst of nightmares. His mind races at the stutter of your breath, hands fumbling to push stray hairs out of your eyes.
âI love you, so much. Wouldnât ever wanna make you worry, yeah?â
Silence passes for a minute. Seagulls chirp and water sloshes against eroded rocks.
Your eyes peek out from his hands, slotting your arm between his, reaching up. You tug and his mask bunches up at the nose, fingers smoothing over the surface of his skin, warm, grasping for affection. You yearn for his touch and he gives it to you without question.
Ghost tastes of gunpowder and the bask of the sun. It reminds you of home, slightly chapped, never wanting more than what he can give. Heâs gentle, canines gently poking against your lips, perfectly still. You sigh inwardly at the feeling, reveling in all that he is until you can breathe no longer.
âYouâre such an idiot.â
Your chest heaves, breath leveling with a rough scoff. His eyes crinkle like they do when he notices you packed extra eye black for him. Mouth parted, a ghost of a smile curving at his lips.
âI know, canât seem to get myself sorted.â
Thereâs an underlying meaning to it. Passes through like the wind that cards through your hair. Guilt rides the waves, but you donât want to cry anymore.
You just want to heal. Ghost understands that more than anyone else.
#arqhms#đ arqhmssummer23#call of duty modern warfare#ghost mw2#simon ghost riley#cod mw22#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley#ghost x reader#simon riley x you#ghost x you#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley fanfiction#simon riley x reader
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I had trouble sleeping this morning so I was laying in bed, daydreaming about Twiyor a bit. I was thinking about my fic idea and how funny it is that Twilight's solution to pretty much any perceived hiccup in his arrangement with Yor is to immediately try to seduce her into falling for him, which led to this little scene (not sure it will make it into the fic when I eventually start writing it, but I had fun):
Twilight stood at the window, concealed by the curtains, looking down at the street below where Yor chatted with that incompetent fool, Daybreak. So, the worst secret agent in Ostania had taken a shine to Twilight's wife. Was he also looking to start a cover family? Was he trying to steal Loid's? Twilight's fist clenched. Or was this Daybreak's way of interfering with Operation Strix? Was he a better spy than Twilight had thought?
Down below, Yor waved at Daybreak and turned to head into the apartment building. Twilight lifted his binoculars, peering through them to read the expression on her face: a mild, absent-minded smile. Reassured that she wasn't thinking about dissolving their arrangement - which was crucial to his mission - Twilight swung the binoculars over to Daybreak. He was watching Yor leave with a dreamy, slack-jawed look on his face. Hmmm.
Twilight lowered the binoculars. So. Perhaps the idiotâs feelings for Yor were genuine. And why wouldn't they be? Yor was a beautiful woman. Twilight had made note of the fact many times himself, though in a cold, impartial way befitting a professional intelligence agent. He, himself, was unmoved by the brightness of Yor's eyes or the rosy flush of her cheeks or the plump curve of her lips, or her favorite backless sweater, which exposed the dip above her spine and hinted at more wonders to be found beneath the baggy, red knit. Having a lovely wife was good for his mission. He was aware that he was quite attractive himself, and had used it to his advantage often in his work. It would draw attention and suspicion if his wife was not on par with himself, so of course he had to take regular inventory to verify that Yor was still stunning. It was practical and necessary.Â
Behind him, the door cracked open.Â
âLoid!â Yor exclaimed. âYouâre home so early!â
Twilight turned around, plastering an easy smile across his face. âYor! One of my patients canceled so I took the opportunity to come home and have some lunch before I head back to the office.â
Yor glanced at the binoculars in his hand, her eyebrows furrowing.
Twilight tensed, his stomach gurgling. A rookie mistake! Yor would realize he had been keeping tabs on her! He began to run through the 629 most likely outcomes of this error, throwing together a game plan for each.
Yor clapped her hands. âOh, were you bird watching?â
Twilight looked down at his binoculars. âYes,â he said.Â
Yor smiled and went into the kitchen. âDo you have time for some tea?â she asked.
âSure,â said Twilight, hurrying to put the binoculars away. She hadnât mentioned running into Daybreak. Was she trying to hide it from him? Had the brief conversation meant that little to her or was she keeping it as a delightful little secret to giggle over in private? Did she think Daybreak was handsome? Charming?Â
Twilightâs stomach twinged with panic and acidic pain. This was a disaster (for his mission). There was only one way forward. He was going to have to take Yor on a date.
End
#spy x family#twiyor#agent twilight#loid forger#yor forger#sxf#short scene#fanfiction#scene#fanfic#fic writing#didn't edit#not proofread
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