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adrinktostopyourthirst · 1 year ago

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Bucky Barnes | One Shot | Rebound

Part two to Underground

Pairing: Fighter!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Plot: You lose your last tether to the normal world and Bucky has to make a decision. You’re officially part of the Underground. Does he help you, or not?

Warnings: 18+. Angst, violence, fluff and smut.

Words: 5OOO

The demanding throbbing in your feet nearly feels delightful as you drag yourself home to your cramped apartment. As the sun rises and the city turns pink and orange, your building starts to come alive. Though you can barely manage to keep your eyes open.

You can tell the Underground is starting to toughen you up. You make longer days, are a bit paler in your face, making your features sharper, and the bravado you muster as you survive every night is surely something that has started to cling to your face and posture permanently. The people that start their days at sunrise, the ones that weren’t blipped from society and still have a life to return to, they walk around you in a big circle now.

It only makes you feel smug. The society slowly casting you out – starting to fear you.

However, your confidence has a short lifespan when you walk up to the front door of your apartment. The fresh paper with red capital letters stamped on it shouldn’t come as a surprise. You have tried to hold this moment off for as long as possible, going even as far as to take small side jobs in the fighting dome to make some extra money.

You suppose it was only a matter of time before you’d have the words ‘EVICTION NOTICE’ stamped across your door.

And your adrenaline spikes again, realising the time has come that you are officially homeless. You have been well and truly cast out by society, something both you and Natasha had been trying to fight and hold off for as long as possible. This is why the spy had introduced you to the Underground, to make some sort of living. And Nat had never judged you for staying in denial a little longer, even though you knew you would have to get used to the Underground fast, because it was only a matter of time before it would be your new home.

So no sleep for now.

You rip open the door and start packing, leaving all the old furniture that was already there and ending up with one big, stuffed duffel bag and a smaller bag. And then you stand in your place that is no longer your place and truly has never really felt like your place. You look around and feel angry …and hurt. After all, you have been chewed up and spit out, like so many before you.

You stuff that feeling far, far away and vacate the building right as de evening rolls back in. Evening already – since you have tried to put off this moment for as long as possible, have extended packing for hours. Since you don’t have a clue where Natasha lives, if she even resides in the country right now, you are forced to step to the one person you do not want to go to…

As you enter the dome, the place eerily quiet since the nightlife is a long way from commencing, you mildly greet the bartenders and crewmembers readying for the night. You scrunch your face at the stench, wondering if the place ever really gets cleaned. In the darker corners you see things that you decide are none of your business and you drag yourself through centre of the Underground, the capitol of dodgy business.

Making your way to the locker room, you breathe a sigh of relief when you find it empty. Finding a locker in the far back, you stuff it full with your last belongings and pray that none of it gets stolen. Maybe you can find a place in this building to sleep in. You have definitely seen other people crash here for the night, though you debate how safe you’d be. You hardly think you’d close an eye in a place like this.

Then, all the hairs on your body stand up straight.

You slowly turn to find Bucky staring at you, one brow quirked and that being the only sign of his curiosity. “Why are you already here?”

You swallow, “Just trying to get some extra work in.”

Neither of you have talked about what happened nearly a month ago. How you rode his leg with his fingers inside of you until you had one of the most intense orgasms of your life. And how that had been enough for him to come nearly untouched. Well, you say untouched, but you had felt just how heavy he was on your tongue and that’s where you wanted him coming next. Badly.

And you can’t exactly say the tension between you has shifted much. Something that made you realise just how high tensions between you already were. But you dropped it, so had he.

“You have to be careful with those side businesses,” he tells you as he turns to his own locker, one that does have a lock. “People will take advantage of a woman like you.”

“I can take care of myself just fine, thank you,” you snap at him and move to find your bag of supplies for the fight. You try to calm your breathing as you find the bag, kneel down and rummage through it, checking if you need to restock any of your supplies, if only to give yourself something to do for the upcoming hours.

But your spine stiffens again and it’s a little darker around you. So you turn and immediately stand up with you see Bucky looming over you. His eyes rove over your face, peering straight through to your soul, where it quivers before him.

“If you could take care of yourself,” he drawls, “you wouldn’t be homeless right now.”

You startle, “What? How do you know?”

He smiles, but it feels more vindictive than smug. “Because word travels fast, sweetheart, and a pretty girl like you on the loose is gold in the Underground.” He pauses and then his smirk turns smug, “Especially when she’s desperate.”

“I’m not desperate!” you squawk in outrage and he takes a step closer, close enough to feel his breath fanning over your face.

He clenches his jaw, eyes hardening. “What are you going to do?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“How?”

“That is none of your concern.”

Bucky lets out a humourless laugh, tilting his head up and running his tongue over his teeth in annoyance before he lowers his gaze back to yours. “You see, it seems like I’ve signed a stupid fuckin’ contract where that is my concern. So please tell me you have a plan and I don’t have to intervene.”

“Intervene?” you sneer and roll your eyes. “Please, it’s not like you can offer me anything out of this place. You’re not here by choice.”

He quirks his brow, seemingly intrigued by that assumption. “Is that what you think? What if I was here by choice, huh? What if I chose this life?”

You fall silent at that, and decide to keep it like that. An argument with him won’t be worth it. Besides, what are you going to tell him? You have nothing and no one. You are officially at your wit’s end and for you, that is saying a lot. The silence stretches… and stretches…

“Give me something to do,” you tell him quietly –deflated– when he doesn’t break the silence either. You don’t see Bucky’s face soften when he watches the defeat in your face before you stare down at the ground.

Bucky’s skin prickles like there is electricity in the air. Because he’s angry. He’s pissed and furious and so fucking angry. That the world can spit out a woman like you, like it has let down so many good people after the Blip.

And the anger doesn’t cease. It only gets worse, like magma bubbling under his skin and boiling his bones. That night, he beats up opponent after opponent in what seems like a record time. People get killed in these fights all the time, they fight to the death all the time. After all, there are too many people and they know what they signed up for when they enter this place. Yet, it’s a line Bucky has never crossed, never will cross. Not anymore.

It’s difficult, to stay of this side of that line tonight. He wants to kill. He feels the soldier crawling under his skin, flipping knives in anticipation, begging Bucky to unleash him. And he thinks he has hardly been this angry before. Bucky yanks on that leash and fights, each punch and kick doing nothing to quench his thirst for justice.

Win after win, Bucky ruins everyone who dares to take it up against him. But he doesn’t hear the crowd – the screams for more blood and sensation, the cheers that he is the most dangerous man in the Underground. He only hears the rushing of his blood in his ears as he thinks about the woman the world has abandoned – as he thinks about you.

…

“Grab your bags. You’re coming with me.”

You gape at your two bags sitting on the leather bench and peer back at all of the lockers, each of them seeming like they have been ripped open with brute force, some of them dented in a manner that looks like a metal hand gripped its edges. You briefly glance at his metal hand and then up to his face.

Unflinching. His command and his face.

So you grab your bags and follow after him silently. Through countless of alleys and wild crowds that seem to think the night of violence has only just begun, even though the sky is turning lilac with dawn. You sometimes hobble to catch up with the soldier, your arms quaking under the weight of your duffel bag. But you keep marching onward, the last dregs of your energy fuelled by what is to come.

The stairs of the industrial building are almost too much, but you try not to stumble since Bucky is walking behind you and that would severely hurt your pride. The fatigue is making every step feel like torture, like you’re climbing a sandy hill and you have to move carefully to keep from slipping into the dark depths. When you do stumble slightly, the weight of your duffel tipping you backwards, you feel the faintest nudge of a warm hand at your lower back, just enough to tip you back and let you continue your trek up the stairs.

Bucky overtakes you at last and opens a door with around twenty locks attached to it, all of them unlocked. He walks in like it’s habitual and you trudge after him, your energy spiking enough to take in the sight. Bucky walks over to the floor to ceiling windows and rolls down the beige canvas curtains. Just as the sun peaks over the horizon of the city and orange light pours into what you can only assume is Bucky’s home.

It's big. Simple and imposing, but cosy nonetheless. There are plants, a fact that has you fighting to keep from smiling. And brown leather furniture, a beautiful and clean kitchen… You turn your gaze back to the man of the house, who is now standing beside a massive bed with cream sheets and fluffy pillows. Your eyes become bleary at the sight, sleep fighting its way to the surface and threatening to drag you to the floor.

Bucky panics slightly at the look on your face and strides over, grasping your bag from your trembling arms. He has to hold back from cursing at the thought that you must not have slept for over forty-eight hours and how dreadful the past day must have been for you.

He guides you to his bed and lets you collapse into the sheets as he pulls off your boots. Bucky knows you would have put up more of a fight if you weren’t so exhausted, but he won’t use it against you. Just like you didn’t use his weakness against him when you were massaging him.

That massage.

He cannot cast the thought from his brain. Never mind what followed the massage. The woman that was on his knees for him, that came around his fingers and was moaning for him so beautifully – she seems like such a far cry from the woman before him. How you can be so careful and feisty, yet such a dream when it comes to his most sinful fantasies. What you did to him in that locker room that day has been playing in his head on repeat. And he wants to slap himself for wanting to crawl beneath the sheets now, drag those clothes off your body, spread your thighs and bury his face between them–

He quickly stands from the bed and clears his throat, casting you one more look before he’s off to the kitchen area and refill his energy in other ways.

…

When you wake up, it’s dark again. It takes you a while to orient yourself, your body fighting off the heavy blanket of sleep you have been swaddled in. The bed below you is more comfortable than anything you have ever felt and the smell–

Pushing up to a seat, your body becomes alert of your surroundings just in time to hear the rattle of about twenty locks opening. In walks Bucky, slumping as he moves his bruised body across his own floors. He notices you, doesn’t pay you any mind, and then plants himself to sit at the edge of the bed you are laying in. He bends down with a quiet grunt, unlacing his boots and peeling them from his feet.

He seems exhausted. And judging by the darkness, he has called in an early night. You push off the sheets and crawl towards him. Bucky tenses almost imperceptibly, but you gently put your palms on his wide shoulders. You swear you see him shudder, before his back bends over more in relaxation.

“I lost tonight,” he tells you as you slowly circle your warm palms over his back.

He lost. That’s unlikely. Something must have happened for him to lose. He must have been distracted. Or someone new has joined the Underground. Something’s maybe different. Shit, you were supposed to take care of him yesterday. He’d fought harder than you’d ever seen him fight. He must have been broken this morning– But, no. He has fought fights without your care for God knows how long. It couldn’t have made a difference now.

“What happened?” you ask, doubtful he’ll open up to you.

His head snaps backwards and you flinch at the look in his eyes. “What do you mean ‘what happened’? You happened. Can’t fucking focus with you being all dramatic with your personal bullshit.”

You draw back. “Excuse me?! I don’t recall making my problems yours!”

“Well, they are now, aren’t they?” he snipes back and runs his hands through his hair in frustration.

And you think maybe it’s not you he’s frustrated with.

“What do you want from me?” you ask quietly. Timidly.

You barely hear him, his voice muffled by his hands as he speaks, “I want you on all fours.”

But you did hear him. Some part of you heard him, that’s for sure. The heat that left your body after your endless sleep is returning to you in a different form, pebbling your skin with anticipation. You swallow hard and barely manage to get out, “What?”

Bucky takes a deep breath and slowly turns to you.

“Lie on your stomach.” The order is soft, but so, so clear and not gentle by any means. You search his eyes frantically, but only find his immovable self. Your traitorous body lights on fire at what she finds. So you do as you’re told.

And you wait.

Two large, warm hands travel up your clothed legs. Kneading your calves, your thighs, until they knead your ass. You cannot help but push your hips back to seek the pressure. You feel his looming presence crawl over you and you hold your breath. Soft lips press to your shoulder that got exposed after your shirt slipped slightly.

His hands slip around your hips and under them. The feeling of your jeans popping open, makes your core throb with need. He pulls your jeans down, but not off. No, just far enough down for access and to keep you in place, barely enough give even allow you to squirm.

Then, you feel his weight press into your body and you could have never imagined feeling his weight would be enough to make you want to moan. That’s when you register the feeling of his hard bulge against your ass and you push up against him again. Bucky answers with a muffled growl against your shoulder, followed by a gentle bite as a warning.

“Careful,” he drawls, one hand holding him up slightly as his other spreads over your side and slips under your shirt to feel your bare skin. You shudder at the feeling and bite your lip, your fingers curling into the pillow below your head.

How is this even possible? How can you deteriorate so quickly when he has barely touched you? His breaths turn heavy against your neck and you twist your head to hear him better, your mouth so close to his now. You wonder why it is that his breathing is coming out more laboured, but the only thing you can come up with is that it’s plain old restraint that is stiffening his body, his lungs.

One of your hands reaches back and up, and you scrape the pads of your fingers over his stubble. Bucky’s grip on the sheets tightens and his hips roll down into you in response. His mouth attaches itself to your neck and he hums as he grazes his teeth over your skin, his tongue soothing the pain instantly.

“Bucky,” you whisper and he rolls his hips again. The hand under your shirt slides to your front and grabs your breast, kneading the flesh in his hand. Desperate, clingy. He groans.

Something is shifting between the two of you and you feel a rawness coming to the surface. You remind yourself Bucky is requesting this for a reason, but he might be lost in it. In you. Then, you hear him mumble against your skin. Something you’re not sure he wants you to hear, but you give a soft coo to urge him to repeat himself.

“Please,” he moans softly. “Please.”

His hand slides down and wastes no time before slipping into your underwear, his entire hand cupping your cunt as he rolls his fingers through your folds. You gasp and let out a moan, writhing your hips when you cannot choose between moving up or down.

He’s rutting into you like a starved man, his fingers indulging in their exploration like he’ll find salvation between your legs. You open your mouth to ask him what he wants, but he rolls his fingers over your clit and you let out a whimper instead, making Bucky nuzzle his nose right below your ear.

“You’re all warm,” he mumbles and kisses your neck, your jaw – so close to your lips. His fingers are torture, so devious yet so innocent. As if he’s completely content playing with you like this for hours. Your belly flutters and tightens and warms at the sensations he coaxes to the surface.

It’s selfish, what he’s doing. This is all him, trying to console himself.

“Don’t,” you breathe desperately and roll your hips into his hand. “Don’t tease, Bucky.”

“ ‘M not. Just feeling you,” he whispers and you open your mouth to fight him on it, but then his warm mouth covers yours and the moan that spills from your throat is sinful. His tongue immediately invades you and you melt as he consumes you everywhere that he can. One finger slips through your wetness and into you and Bucky inhales the response you give him, groaning in response.

He grinds down, so do you, completely out of sync and with mouths moving desperately over each other. You cling to your pillow with one hand and bury your other in Bucky’s hair, pulling when he adds another finger and his weight keeps you from moving into him more. You whine against him, sensations at war within you when he keeps playing with you like a selfish cat.

“I’m so fucking wet,” you whimper and Bucky grunts in agreement, nibbling on your bottom lip. “Just stop playing–”

Bucky laughs then – laughs – a manly chuckle as he nudges his nose against yours. You want to cry for mercy and your toes curl when his fingers do, making you clench around him tightly. Your orgasm is being dangled in front of you like a carrot and you wonder if he just wants you to feel the way he feels. Frustrated, angry. Like he has no control whatsoever.

But what he does next goes so fast, it makes your head spin. Your body goes cold when his fingers leave you and when his body rises from yours, leaving you behind. But your hips get lifted and the pillow below your head gets snatched and shoved beneath your hips. You try to move, if only to accommodate his inexplicable actions, but your jeans are keeping you from moving.

You feel him crawl over you again and this time, you do moan at the pressure, bending your back to press up against him. He grinds down in response and you feel the pressure of the pillow against your womb, shooting tingles through your limbs when you realise what he’s done.

One of Bucky’s hands slides over yours and pins it to the mattress, your fingers automatically curling around the security of his. And it’s nice, the feeling of him engulfing you. It feels safe and warm and insanely intense. You turn your head, hoping to find him near. Your heart swells when he presses a kiss to your cheekbone.

“I want to fuck you,” he murmurs against you skin and you nod frantically, making him chuckle again. “I’m not against begging for it at this point.”

And apparently, you’re not entirely gone, since your lips curl into a smirk and your voice drops to a low purr when you tell him, “Please beg for me.”

How ironic, to beg someone to beg for you. Though, your brief confidence doesn’t falter. If anything, it is about to skyrocket.

“Come on, baby,” he murmurs against your ear, his soft lips moving against the sensitive skin. “Let me inside you. Let me make you feel good.” He sounds so genuine, so depraved and full of longing. You have to swallow down the carnal desire that crawls up your throat. You nearly choke when you feel the tip of his bare cock nudge against your folds. “Open up for me. Let me slip right in and I’ll fuck you into the mattress, okay? My mattress.”

You nearly whine, all ready to completely cave for him. And then he finishes it with a whisper in your ear, “Please, sweetheart. Let me have you.”

Yeah. Yes. Oh, yes. You mouth the words, but no sound comes out. You might be slipping outside of your body. The way Bucky sounds – his voice so deep, yet needy. You can only nod your head and squeeze his hand, rubbing yourself up against the tip of him.

“Hm, good girl.”

He slides home with one easy thrust, pressing you down into the mattress and skating his cock over each of your swollen walls. You cannot form a sound, or a thought, or catch a fucking breath. Especially not when he rotates his hips slightly and presses down even further.

You nearly choke, quiet for a long second, before you heave in all the oxygen that you can manage, “Oh my god!”

He pulls out slightly and rolls back in, keeping you full and stuffed and only nudging your spot with the tip of him. Over, and over, and over–

“That’s the spot, huh?” he pants against your ear and ruts into you further. “Right… there.” You gasp on a whine and he presses a kiss to your temple. The pillow adds a delicious pressure and you wish to put your hand there, just to feel him move in and out of you.

It’s so perfect, so sating, so much and deep and– You didn’t know it could be like this. Didn’t know it was possible to suddenly realise how screwed you are for the future. How nothing and no one will ever be able to compare to this. To him.

Your orgasm crawls closer and it feels like nothing you have felt before. Your clit is throbbing and aching and your walls are hugging Bucky like he’s never allowed to leave. Your hips tighten and your shoulders scrunch as your orgasm clamps down on you like a snake ready to strike.

“Bucky, I’m–”

He tightens his grip on your hand and latches onto your hip. “Yeah, I know. Me, too.”

You hear the strain in his voice, the hint of disappointment and you scramble to get your brain back in order. “Come in me, Bucky. Come inside me,” you rush out through quick breaths. You can’t elaborate. You just need him to fill you.

He leans back over and slows his thrusts, his breath fanning over your flushed skin. “Yeah? You want me to make a mess of you? You want proof that I fucked you deep enough?”

You let out a grumpy whine and he laughs beautifully as he drops his forehead to the back of your head. He picks up his thrusts, slow and deep and steady. His swollen cock slides over every cushion inside of you and you shudder at how sensitive your are so close to your orgasm. But it comes quicker than you anticipated. You wanted him to go faster, but with this tempo, you feel the orgasm that is coming closer might drown you.

You open your mouth to protest, to tell him to speed up, but the wave has already reached the shore and your ears hollow out.

The tremors seem to start from within as you swell with pleasure, seizing around Bucky and threatening to curl up. You think you might be grasping for something to hold onto as Bucky remains consistent through your orgasm, fucking into you with a steady rhythm and meeting you with every contraction of your high.

It is so completely overwhelming that you barely feel it when he comes, if it isn’t for the litany of beautiful moans and whimpers from him against your neck. He bites your skin to ground himself through his own orgasm and then melts over your body, pulling your hand to his lips.

Bucky quiets his own breaths to make sure he hears yours and is happy to learn how sated and satisfied you sound with your soft pants. He crawls off of you and gently tugs you over on your back, smiling as he watches you bend to his will.

Peeling off your jeans, he keeps his eyes on you, mesmerised with the sight and the feeling of having you in his bed. A feeling he had yesterday, too. Not just lust…

Your eyes peel open and you peer down at him while he strokes his sweaty palms up and down your calves and thighs. “Is this part of my ruse as a physical therapist and personal nurse now?”

Bucky quirks a brow at your wit and you feel something unfamiliar at the relaxation on him. How he seems more expressive and gentle and less guarded.

“No, this is private.”

Bucky’s eyes rove over your body and you flush with warmth, both from his words and from his assessing stare. You feel him drip from between your legs and swallow, fighting the urge to close your thighs. But Bucky, ever the trained assassin, immediately notices and lets a smirk crawl over his face.

He leans down and presses his lips to your left knee, eyes narrowing in on your cunt. “I thought I was going to have a heart attack when you told me to come inside of you.” You freeze at his words and keep a close eye on him. “I fucking knew the sight would be good, but–”

He lets out a starved groan.

You sound wary, “Bucky.”

He spreads your knees and crawls down to kneel at the foot of the bed, tugging you towards the edge. Surely, he wouldn’t–

You throw your head back when Bucky dives head first between your legs, running a flat tongue through your folds. You’re not sure if it’s the taste or simply the idea of him licking you clean of himself, but Bucky growls and hauls you closer, nudging his nose against your clit like he’ll never find anything better than what’s between your thighs.

You cannot help but bury your fingers in his hair, the wild throbbing between your legs pushing your mixed essences out and onto his tongue where Bucky drinks it up appreciatively. His fingers dig into your flesh and it takes a while for Bucky’s ministrations to have any other purpose than to taste you. But when he sucks your clit into his mouth, you tug on his hair with warning, making him chuckle.

“You don’t fight fair,” you choke out and he grins up at you.

“Oh, sweetheart, if you knew what the prize was, you wouldn’t fight fair either,” he murmurs and moans in delight as he continues his feasting. “Now how about you give me that prize and come on my tongue, huh?”

No, Bucky didn’t lose tonight.

#I did it #and under 6k words like HOW?!#who knew i was still even capable of that?#ok not a lot of people liked underground but the ones that did liked it A LOT #this is for you guys #and oops - i made him needy #i hope you enjoy it and as always please let me know what you think???#I need the validation THANKS #writing #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes oneshot #e to l

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ronance-romance · 5 months ago

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Have some vampire!Nancy for your dash today!

The incident that Nancy internally called The Bite happened just over two months ago. While trying to save Steve, one of those bats had gotten her, and she’d barely felt it due to the adrenaline. Something liquid had seeped from its teeth into the wound before she twisted its neck. When asked if she had been hurt, by Eddie for that matter, she shook her head and kept the injury to herself. It was only when she was alone that she dealt with it properly. She didn’t think too much of it, until the injury had healed just two days later when the crew in California arrived in Hawkins.

After that, the cravings started. At first, she just thought she was thirsty. Water would fix it, right? Mike gave her a confused look when he found her with her head under the sink for minutes at a time, multiple times a day. She even tried a whole pitcher of water. 2 and a half gallons. She sat in her room and chugged the whole thing in one sitting. Still the burn in her throat and the aching need inside her never ceased. With each day that passed, it got worse.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t her only problem. Her senses heightened. Sight, smell, hearing. The world was much louder to her in multiple ways. Nancy lived in headphones and sunglasses just to tolerate it. The sun burnt her skin, but not in a deadly way. She just couldn’t withstand it for more than five minutes.

There was a word for what was happening to her but the last thing she wanted to do was admit it. As the thirst mounted into something unbearable, she knew she couldn’t hide from this reality forever. But she couldn’t hurt her own family. It was just unthinkable. Rabbits were little more than an appetizer and just didn’t help. She needed something with more…bite, so to speak.

One day, about three months after The Bite, she finally caved and attacked the first moving thing she saw. It wasn’t until she heard a muffled cry of pain and her own name that there was the vaguest of realizations that she was feeding on a person. Not just any person, somebody that she knew.

“Nancy…Nancy what the fuck…” Jonathan shoved her, but she wouldn’t budge.

A second person pulled her off and she snarled and struggled. Blood ran down her chin. Steve?

“Okay well, that’s definitely something I wasn’t expecting,” Steve groaned as he tried to restrain Nancy. “You good, Jonathan?”

“Fantastic,” he groaned from the grass.

All of this was a mere backdrop to just how dire her own thirst still was. She lunged and tried to bite Steve, but at the last moment he dropped her back into the grass.

“Well that explains why we haven’t heard a peep from her!” Steve exclaimed. “She’s gone insane with bloodlust. “What the hell do we do?”

“The woods…” Jonathan got to his feet and winced. “Maybe some animals.”

Nancy’s gaze tore away from the two boys. She caught another scent and went after it. After getting her hands on a deer and draining it, her head finally began to clear. And she came to terms with what she had done. Jonathan and Steve managed to catch up to her and she wiped off her chin and mouth, guilt overwhelming her.

“Jonathan, I…I’m so sorry,” Nancy said quietly. “I couldn’t control it anymore.”

“Trying to handle this all by yourself. Yeah that’s so like you, Nancy.”

If she didn’t know better, if she didn’t see him bleeding so openly in front of her, she wouldn’t know he had been hurt at all. But she did know. Knew him so well. And he was putting on a brave face so she wouldn’t feel worse than she already did. It wasn’t working, but it was sweet that he was trying.

“Okay so, that bat did something to you that it didn’t do to me,” Steve declared.

“Yeah. I gathered that.”

“So you’re a…vampire.” Jonathan put a hand to his neck to stop the bleeding. “I guess I can’t tell people scared of you that you don’t bite anymore. Cause you sure as hell do.”

“Sorry.” Nancy grinned sheepishly. “I guess the woods are suitable for now till we find a long term solution.”

“Robin was asking about you,” Steve said. “What should I tell her?”

“Nothing yet. We need…a solid plan so I don’t hurt anyone else first.”

“Let’s get to work,” Jonathan said. Steve nodded and started walking out of the woods.

Nancy took Jonathan’s hand. The man she had chosen over an old high school sweetheart. But really, ultimately, it was no contest. The present, the future, all of that was more appealing than the past. For many reasons. Now they had an entirely new future to conquer together. She could deal with that. Just like he dealt with the bite she’d given him.

“What?” Jonathan smiled. “Why are you staring at me?”

Nancy got on her tiptoes and kissed him. She playfully nibbled at his lip before pulling away, tasting more blood.

“Unh…jeez Nance,” Jonathan chuckled. “Can’t get enough of my blood, can you?”

“It’s not your blood I’m after right now.” She grinned. Jonathan blushed.

“HEY! Lovebirds!” Steve yelled from much further ahead. “Get out of the damn woods already!”

Nancy giggled and ran on ahead of Jonathan. Her boyfriend complained about how much faster she was than him now and struggled to catch up.

#nancy wheeler #stranger things #oneshot #jonathan byers #steve harrignton #jancy #yes I am capable of writing jancy who knew #vampire!nancy

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aixeko · 4 months ago

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──────<3 YOUR LORDSHIP ༺♱༻

WEEK 1 | SINNERS SAVAGERY / ERISETOBER

| Synopsis | When the tempestuous waves crash against the shore and the sky turns a foreboding grey, human shells cower in fear as the mighty lord of the seas, Leviathan, awakens from the darkest pit of the deep, seeking for a human companion to aid her lonely voyage.

| Synopsis | Yelan as Leviathan x Mortal!Reader

| Setting | MONSTER AU / Historical Era

| Scenario | [ ONESHOT ] EVENTUAL SMUT Porn with plot. Long introduction. Arranged marriage. Emotionally abusive parents. Kidnapping. Yelan saved Reader. Hemipenes [ Double cocks ] Monsterfuck, kinda, but Yelan is in her human form. Size kink. Tail kink… Is that a thing? Consent is hot. Soft-Dom!Yelan and Virgin-Sub!Reader. No gendered pronouns used only female anatomy. Went with the flow while writing so uh yeah. NO BETA WE DIE LIKE MEN.

► RADIO CHANNEL [ Author note ]

⚝ Used to hate Yelan a lot since I don't fw her haircut but after writing this she ain’t that bad tbh. Maybe mischaracterized, I stopped playing the archon quest and genshin in general since Sumeru release. ⚝ Including biblical references and quotes in an eventual smutshot is crazy work Ik. ⚝ Not a native speaker, just a professional dyslexic yapper + VERY RUSHED WRITING ESPECIALLY AT THE END.

[ Word count: 5205 ] | Art credit: kgynh on Twitter

Love's true essence eludes reality when forced upon by one's own guardian.

Can humanity's most sought-after reward retain its meaning amid the sea of obligations?

The shortest and simplest answer is a definite no to the victim and an utter negation to the assailant.

It seemed as though time had slipped away, as if it were only yesterday that you were a child, running barefoot along the shoreline, embracing the sea like your own kind.

Now you're freshly twenty, walking barefoot with jewelry decorating every inch of your figure and outfitted in an expensive ivory wedding dress funded by a husband whom you have never spoken to nor seen with your own eyes.

Once an innocent, carefree child turned into a young virgin delicacy for the rest of the world to corrupt, offered by your most trusted protectors, you could never again call your parents.

It's for the future of everyone here, my dearest eldest child; you are the only one capable of bestowing glory on our village, so shine, my dear, and bring forth a new era for this accursed world.

No more would your beloved, caring mother tell tales of fairy tales, replacing them with those orations each night you succumbed to uneasy slumbers, like a reminder of the miserable future that would descend upon you.

Straighten your posture, child, drop the sorrow and curve those lips, child, stop consuming so much cuisine, child; His Highness the prince wouldn't want an indolent pig as his lifelong partner.

No more would your kind father carry you through mountains and forests to show you the falsehood of paradise your child self formerly gleamed at; now he who had turned into an unfeeling man would deport you across the thunderous waves to your new life with your unknown lover.

Seated on the boat and obscured by your veil, you could only stare mindlessly at the bouquet in your hands, all the while the entirety of your community swarmed the harbor in a declaration of celebration for your safe expedition and soon-to-be prosperous life.

Children who were like you and knew nothing better than to trust their protectors admired you and wished for a future like yours, not knowing about the torture you had and would have to face. Adults who saw you grow only wish for you to one day return to this lowly village for a blessing from people who they view as higher life and, to some extent, as God-beloved children. At last, your guardians who know the cruel truth don't bat an eye at your suffering and only wish to rid themselves of you and ask forgiveness when you soon flourish in the castle life.

You realize now that all those times of 'joyous' occasions and 'love' were not anything more than a ploy, a gamble, a hefty investment that your supposed parents made the very day you were born into this world.

Do not forget about the hardship you have faced and the community that has helped you awaiting here for your anticipated return; rejoice in luxury, and proffer our kindness with your blessing, my sweet child!

Your mother's distant voice screams out in a mixture of woefulness and elation, a grand final act in her show to manipulate your already shell-shocked heart into forgiving and forgetting.

Can one's own soul mend in the face of a fierce storm?

When the world seems to continue living on while yours has stopped, a shadow of its former self, a living corpse in a world of angel-disguised devils.

Have there been no solutions to resolve this impending doom, or have the solutions always been impending doom?

A presumed hour has passed since you began your journey through the ocean; silence was all the sound you seemed to hear, with the occasional "hmph" or sigh from the man who gave life to you.

"Are you going to soak and stare mindlessly in misery for the remaining period of time? You are a smart child; I'm sure you understand that it will be long until the next sunrise before we're standing on land again."

A part of you wishes to answer, to once in your life unleash the raging sorrow he and the woman he married have anchored you to, but like always, you find your tongue tied to an invisible knot, unable to fight back due to the cowardly mannerism you've learned to adapt to.

"Resentment and anger are not traits desired by heaven, child; one day you will come to realize that the things we have done are for the sake of your own good. Had we not done so, you would be living with a poor man and left to be a rotten peasant, unable to blossom into your true potential."

Your grip on the bouquet tightens, such blaring words spoken to be only lies to ease the guilt; if his putative wisdom has a scent, it would be of the foulest smell one could inhale.

Sensing the tension in the atmosphere, for once the man chose not to escalate the situation further in fear of tragedy, especially being in the middle of practically nowhere in the vast sea.

People spoke of God as a heroic savior of the world, yet had never once in their lifetimes seen this magnificent being above humans and animals, mortal and immortal, life and death.

How can he, who is worshiped by the world as the one true salvation, allow his creations to suffer so greatly?

For the first time in a long time, you turn your gaze away from the flowers, not out of boredom, not out of impatience, but out of helplessness, out of your daydream for the life you longed for and lost in consequence of humankind's greed.

You lift your veil to reveal just enough to see with one hand while still withholding your grip on the flowers. Your first sight of the world is the ocean, a natural phenomenon you've adored for as long as you could walk; if you were asked to explain why you are so heavily interested in it, you would reply with a simple "Who wouldn't?" But if they were to ask you on a deeper level, you would respond that because you feel like nothing understands you more than it does, it's not a human, it's not a being, but because of such quality, it's why you're so fond of it.

The world is cruel, so very cruel, and so to have something as tranquil and peaceful as this enormous paradise is something to be adored with the utmost devotion.

Those of his believers who pour countless nights and days into seeking his divine revelation deserve more than silent destruction.

If God truly does exist, surely he'd answer his faithful servant's pleas for grace rather than having them suffer such a cold fate.

Before your so-called father could stop you, your hand meets the cool yet oddly soothing warmth of the water, a rare upward curve forming in the corner of your lip as a singular tear falls down and becomes one with Earth's own heaven.

If God does exist, if the legend and the myth are tales of truth, then please, please set your gaze on me; please save me from this miserable life, your lordship.

The winds begin to howl, and the sky darkens to a foreboding gray; far away from you, tempestuous waves crash violently against the coast. A single lightning strike ominously appears in the distance of the gray sky, sending chills down your spine at the signal of an impending storm.

The boat rocks violently, and you struggle to maintain stability, clutching tightly onto the edge of the boat while your father tries to manage the situation somehow, but it proves easily inefficient as a mere mortal is nothing against Mother Nature.

Your veil nearly flew off your head, and in a moment of panic, you let go of the flowers in your hand for the very first time in the interest of keeping the veil from flying away.

The boat rolls dangerously as the waves increase in abnormal strength; you struggle to hold on, and your father's screams are nearly drowned out by the cacophony of intense wind and waves if it weren't for the distinct pitch between nature and human fear.

With much grappling, you look upward to where your father's sight is set upon, and your face turns pale, hearts pounding in absolute fear from the sight of a creature only described in fairy tales and biblical books as the supreme sovereign of the seas. Unlike consuming content from secondary sources of its fearsome status, its appearance is much more petrifying in real life; from its awakening, ripples of dread are sent through the entire atmosphere, as if the very ocean itself is a body of its powerful might.

The sea serpent colossus's size covers the sky in its mass alone, and all you can do is watch in powerlessness, but as the initial fear disappears, you can't help but feel a surge of admiration for the majestic creature that has risen from the depths to grace you with its presence.

In essence, Leviathan is not just a creature of myth but can be portrayed as a powerful embodiment of the ocean’s mysteries, evoking awe and fear in equal measure; yet at this moment, Leviathan is not a myth or an embodiment anymore.

You slowly stand up, wanting to reach out for the monster in spite of your puny existence compared to it; perhaps this feeling is a manifestation of your love for the ocean. Maybe you were wrong this whole time, that this entire time the boundless mysterious abyss was, in fact, a being of greater worth than a mere mortal can comprehend. Could it be that the reason why you felt so heavily connected to the ocean was due to the fact that such a creature lay dormant in it? Could it be the case that this whole time someone has been accompanying you in your most vulnerable and lonely moments?

You stand up on your bare feet, both hands outstretched high above like a priest offering their devotion to God; you gaze up toward Leviathan, and your heart nearly bursts as you see you have gained its full attention.

"Your lordship." You whisper so silently that even your confused, fear-struck father, who is sitting beside you, cannot hear, but those words are not meant for mortal ears after all.

The last thing you feel is a coldness so soothing it could be a camouflage for fire as it engulfs you before darkness consumes you into a comforting slumber, one you've been deprived of since as early as your formative years.

It is when one has been confined for so long in the presumably eternal abyss that the light seems to shine so luminously.

Your eyes flutter open, rising to consciousness; a deep breath escapes your lips as you try to recall what has occurred, only for you to be sidetracked by where you are.

In contrast to the rough feeling of the wooden boat, you now lie comfortably in an astonishingly expensive, spacious bed made for what can only be assumed to be a titan or of the utmost royalty.

You look down at yourself and realize you're not fitted in a white ivory dress anymore but rather in extravagant, exquisite, and elaborate bridal attire belonging to a culture you're not all too familiar with.

Spotting a large mirror not too far away, you rise to your feet and examine yourself, and to your complete and utter shock, the dress was of a quality you could only have dreamed of; in comparison to the dress, the room that you thought was too lavish is lowly.

The attire is of a stunning ultramarine and silver color, with intricate embroidered patterns of what looks to resemble a sea serpent and floral motifs covering the entire garment. It's voluminous, creating a flowy silhouette and a sense of grandeur, and to add to its flowiness is your veil, which is elevated by a silver headpiece as detailed as the entire apparel.

In the corner of your eye, you spot fully bloomed lotuses with their countless petals decorating the dark blue marble floor.

Must it be that the one who brought me here intends to put on a show and allow me to follow those flowers to their awaiting destination? You thought, quite skeptical of this mysterious stranger's intentions, but seeing the pleasantries you have been showered with, you opted not to draw the wrong judgment quite yet.

You pull down your veil, which, unlike its appearance, is quite translucent on the inside—a heavily desired distinction from your previous opaque one.

At a slow pace, you follow the lotus, leaving the room for an even more unfamiliar environment; outside the bedroom is a long hallway decorated with various ornamentations that are illuminated by bioluminescent organisms you've only heard tales about.

Continuing to follow the lotuses, you admire the serene atmosphere, despite knowing nothing about anything and everything; the place seems to give a familiar feeling you've only felt toward the vast expanse of water.

You turn down countless corridors and admire different décor before you come to a stop at a grand, sturdy arch entrance; carved in it is what looks to be the depiction of Leviathan, the almighty sea serpent you have come to witness and live to tell the tale of. As well as what looks to be a mortal woman behind it, albeit a very unlikely assumption with her obscure body featuring characteristics impossible to be found on a human.

A slow inhalation and exhalation release through your nose and out of your mouth before your hands push the door open.

"Does the scenery satiate your taste, or is there any adjustment you desire to make?" A deep, rich, feminine voice booms.

You're a bit taken aback by the sound of another living being, and especially a female one at that. If it weren't for her voice, you would have mistaken the woman for a male at first sight given her chosen outfit. Similar to you, she is seemingly clothed in bridal attire with half of her chest uncovered by fabric or hair. Long, flowing garments in place of pants share colors and detailing exactly like yours with minor adjustments; a silky robe is wrapped around her like a sash, and the rest of her features are concealed by the canopy veil hanging from the roof of the castle.

She's seated on top of a throne as grand as the room is, and by the windows that are engraved in the wall, you realize that you have been underwater this whole time. Which explains the unusual source of lighting and unique embellishment never seen in this era.

A gulp ran down your dry throat, and your immediate thought was to go on your knees and bow, but you were stopped by her commanding voice.

"You are not to behave by the rules your kind has set, because here you are of the highest life that the mortal soul can achieve. Come closer; I'm sure you are curious to see what I appear as, little one."

It takes a while for any sort of response or action to manifest, but soon enough, one did.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness, this may be an intrusive question, but may I know what you are addressed by? In particular, your title or name, perhaps if you are to grant me both."

The mysterious being seems to be quite surprised but amused; you see the shadow of her head resting on her fisted hand as she answers your question with much delight.

"You are much more intriguing than meets the eye; it is no illusion that you are a unique character indeed; you should take pride in the fact of such a deed so highly as to be offered as a bride to a prince, given your status as a lower life." A chuckle was released, followed by a dreamy sigh. "Of course, I am no different; never have I risen to the mortal realm and met such a gem; you must be of this planet's favorite creation to be so blessed."

At the mention of 'favorite' and 'blessed,' you are quick to protest, an act you yourself are surprised by, taking into account your history.

"You are mistaken, your liege; I am by no means favored, and least of all blessed."

"Hm, I see," she paused. "To answer your question, you must already know me by my true form. The one whom you called 'your lordship,' the formidable sea serpent, as you mortals describe me, and by my given name, Leviathan."

At the revelation, you are much amazed; Levithan had been a name you often associated with a male creature, given its appearance, but you do recall that in one particular book, you can't place your finger on the name of, which has described Levithan as a female monster that dwells in the deepest part of the watery abyss.

"Awed, I see? You're quite an amusing little one, but I do request that you do not refer to me by that name, as it does not fit my taste. I particularly like the name Yelan, and I do hope you agree with it."

Without thinking, you begin making your way to the Lord, eager to see the one who has saved you from a miserable life, the one to rid you of a horrible life with a man who could dispose of you anytime he sought.

"I am merely an underling in a position compared to your lordship."

You were only a fair step away from seeing the godly being yourself before being swept off your feet by a massive, rugged tail. You yelped, eyes closing in fright, only to feel yourself pressed up against foreign, frosty flesh that was quite comforting in spite of its temperature.

"Repeated words are a time waster, and I'm sure I do not need to remind you again that you are not to behave by the rules your mortal friends or foes have established in that pretty little head of yours."

"I... I'm sorry, Your Highness; please do not punish me," you whimpered aloud, frightful even with the hospitality and kindness accentuating Yelan's words.

"Punish you? I am a feared monster indeed, but I am not without a soul; harming you would be a war set against grace itself."

Her rough hand carefully and tenderly touches your chin like the softest of materials, tilting it up patiently to face her.

"Open your eyes, my heaven."

Your heart fluttered at the nickname, and without any second consideration, you did as you were commanded. A single beat skipped within the close proximity of Her Highness; from a distance, she may have seemed the average human size, but being this close to her, on her lap specifically, you're awed by her enormous stature.

"Your Majesty...I-you're... huge."

Her pale skin is adorned with scales that are inherent to her true form, light jade-hued eyes bore into you like a gourmet to be savored rather than devoured, and dark blue hair with asymmetrical bangs that are lighter at the tips seems to tie it all together to make a manifestation of the perfect combination between a mythical creature and a mortal female.

Another chuckle, this time a little longer, emits from her, and you swear your pupil seems to take on the appearance of a heart at the paradisiacal sight blossoming before you.

"Oh, how I adore mortal words; it has been a long time since I have had the company of another."

Her tail slithers its way to your waist and pulls you in closer—an act in anticipation of unforeseen events, but one that you suspect will happen sooner than expected.

"But my lord... how can I, a mere human, be able to accompany you?"

"Are you suggesting I am not capable of taking care of you? If there are things you require, then a single word to me and your wish shall be granted. If you believe it's impossible, then I will rival against the heavens for it to become a reality."

"No, no, my lord, you are much more than one can imagine, but I fear I am not capable of surviving in such an environment, as I have observed; we are underwater, and I do not have the ability to breathe under such conditions, nor do I have any power."

When His Lordship arrived, it was one where many prayed countless times for it and never got to witness it in their lifetimes.

To be able to be in possession of such dutiful hands is to be seen beyond the flesh and into the deepest part of one's soul.

That day I learned that God truly does exist on this wasted planet and that God is not a man of the beyond but a woman with a nurturing soul.

"I see, you should have mentioned it earlier," her gaze evidently grew dim. "I have a method of transferring my power to you, gaining you access to my pool of destruction, albeit the technique is rather an intimate act, and by performing this, you would be marked as wholly mine, and your soul will be bound to me for as long as you have the will to exist."

Much to your shame, an immediate "yes" escaped from your lips, which left Yelan a bit taken aback by the response; nevertheless, it's one that doesn't go unappreciated by her.

"My sweet mortal, as much as I am flattered by your agreement, I suggest reconsidering all the restrictions you may have to face, and most importantly, that you are not to return to your realm without my supervision for fear that your breed may label you as part of witchcraft or satanic magic."

You shake your head; you may long for your past life when the moon is at its fullest, where the most breathtaking night sky reveals itself as the world rests, but you would never dare return to the misery forced upon you ever again.

"Your lordship, I am sold off to a man whom I have never longed for, like I have longed for a companion each moment my body embraces the sea; never have I heard his voice the same way the waves whisper a delightful siren song to my ears, nor have I grown to love every perfect imperfection of the stranger as I have to your land."

Yelan's ears turn a deep blue hue at the helix—a phenomenon you haven't a clue about the means of its cause, but you take her cheeky grin as a blissful reaction.

"And you are certain of your choice; there is no return from then on."

"I have not thought of anything but a future with you, my lord."

Yelan's features lit up with much ecstasy, and her smile exceedingly widened as she cupped your entire head with one palm, bringing you ever closer with each ring of an echoing bell.

"Then may you allow me to have a kiss?"

"Yes, my sovereign."

Thus, the tragic tale of a young mortal sold to a foreign land ends as a tale of a beauty blessed by the heavens, and a monster feared by the lords begins.

Yelan hovers above you, naked from the top half of her body, her face flustered with uneven breath reflecting yours. What was a passionate exchange of blissful lips meeting quickly stirred up the deprived sea serpent, and now you're a complete mess spread out on top of another bountiful bed for her eyes to feast on.

You're breathless, as the woman who treated you with much care is barely able to restrain herself from almost attaching her lips to yours. Your head throbs from the intensity, but you can't help admitting that this is all so new and exciting; after all, you haven't given up your virginity yet or even touched yourself.

Like a mind reader, Yelan asked, "You haven't done this before, have you? How pure; I'm almost intimidated to corrupt such innocence. If it is all too much, yell out 'lotus'; I do not want your first time to be unsatisfactory."

"Hgh... Understood, my lord."

"Yelan. I am no more or less now that I am to mate with you; we are of equal ranking. If you must, you can still refer to me as please, but I will admit the truth that I do want to hear my name out of your delectable enunciation."

"Okay—Yelan."

Yelan's instinct to the callout of her name is to kiss you again, never satiated by how addictive mortal flesh can be. You gasp into the drastically different monument of the kiss, rolling your eyes to the back of your head as she plunges you further into the generous bedding.

You tried returning her touch with eager vigor but found your hands accidentally pressed against the middle of your crotch due to your unfamiliarity with a half-beast, half-mortal form. You're flustered as an involuntary moan leaves you at the feeling of her monstrous size while Yelan is quick to use the opportunity to slither her long tongue inside, which has your body inducing visual stimuli.

You choke even more when you feel her grab your attire and rip it apart with her claws; you whine at the act, quite saddened as you have grown quite attached to the outfit, and as a result, Yelan mumbled a quiet "sorry" in between hungry kisses.

"Yelan... needs—more, ah, fast—faster!"

You come to regret your words a tad bit when you feel her lengthy tail slither its bulk around your thigh and an inch away from your womanhood.

"Comfortable or-"

"Please."

She doesn't question your neediness, nor does she require any more words for her to thrust some of the length inside, careful not to harm you as she deems you not suitable for many insertions yet.

You cry out her name at the intrusion, gripping her back and scarring it at that, but it doesn't matter as she moves from your lips to mark your body while getting rid of the distraction covering your frame.

Time is an unchangeable aspect of the universe, but in this moment of elation, it seems to go on for an eternity while flashing faster than one can comprehend the flicker of lightning. You're a whimpering mess as Yelan plants her imprint onto you. How long has it been, how long have you been doing it, and how long are you able to go on—these are all questions you don't know the answers to, and one that is least of your concerns at the feelings of how staggering her erotic touches are.

Satisfied enough to finish her final touches on your neck and collarbone, she moves to your chest, pressing airy kisses to each nipple before setting her lukewarm mouth to suck on one while rubbing the other.

"Mmm... mn, ah.. your highness, Yelan. So-so..g..” Your words run dry at the overstimulated sensations running their course.

“No need to say anything; just focus your pretty little mind on making those delectable sounds, and let me take care of the rest.”

"Shhh, no need to say anything; focus your pretty little mind on feeling my devotion to you and making those delectable sounds. Let me take care of you."

Out of the blue, Yelan pulled her tail out of you, causing you to let out a whiny whimper at the loss of contact, but not long after it would be replaced by a hitched breath.

You have never seen a penis before, only heard of its description and what its function to society is, but nobody has ever told you that they're almost as large as the size of your head, and two of them at that.

"Haha, don't look so excited now; it's truly a tempting invitation to my constrained self-control. My tail already has difficulty trying to enter you; to think you can fit these two little beasts of mine is beyond impossible."

You pull your lips into a dainty pout with a tilt of your head.

“Is there no other way to pleasure one another, my liege?”

“You're so curious and such an obedient little one too; I truly struck gold when I found you.” Yelan kissed your cheek and slowly intertwined your hand, guiding it to wrap around the base of her shaft.

"For other means of pleasure, I can, of course, change the size of them, but it wouldn't be entertaining, now would it?" She teased, causing your clitoris to ache for her again. "I'm merely playing the fool, as I have stated; harming you is like a war against heaven. I'm sure this would be amusing to you; just move your hand up and down like this." Yelan demonstrated the movement on her large genitalia, and you perked up as you saw her ears turn a darker color, an indication you picked up as a sign of fluster.

"I'm curious, Your Highness; does a mortal man have two reproductive parts as well?"

You use both hands to give both of her members equal attention, and you are rewarded for this by a raspy moan as well as an even greater hardening of the twin beast.

"In rare cases, perhaps, but I am no mortal, and especially not a man."

Yelan, grab your hands and pin them above your head, leaving you helpless and useless with only your sight available to witness her shrinking her tools down to a size compatible with your body.

"And no mortal is capable of giving you the satisfaction you are entitled to, nor can any arise and satiate this overwhelming lust like you are in a position to."

She inserts both beasts in each of your holes, causing you to cry out her name in slight pain with overarching ecstasy. Her tails wrap around you, and she ushers her lips down to your neck, kissing and thrusting simultaneously to bring you to your well-deserved orgasm.

You feel a soothing coldness enveloping you like the ocean's hug, your back arching off the ground as your head throws back, seeing the deepest part of the beautiful watery abyss.

The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?

"The Lord is who I shall cherish evermore as my beloved soulmate." You said it out loud, opting not to write it in the last line of your autobiography.

"Exquisitely written and articulated, my dearest bride."

Yelan kissed your cheek when you turned to her after you finally stopped writing, having silently watched you and touched the floral mark of her symbol tattooed on your womb, now turning your attention solely to her.

"Your ways with words never change, do they, your lordship?"

"It has become second nature to me, hailing from the deepest part of my once indestructible soul, whose only weakness is one single mortal."

In her was life, and that life was the light of all humankind.

269 notes · View notes

mitch-the-silly · 1 year ago

Note

Hi hi hi hi hi big fan of your writing :3 do ya think you can do a vox x female reader when their out in public and some ones hits on reader??? *Disclaimer* I luv u (platonically)

Omg I love this idea and I love you too (platonically as well)!! Vox is my bbg and any idea to get me writing for him is literal heaven-

Anyway, he's a bit of a Yandere, I just know it!!! So here!

Vox x fem!reader

Oneshot!

"Aggro of a Bleeding Heart"

It was rare when you and Vox decided to roam Petagram City. The amount of low-class sinners that also roamed the place made it unsafe not just because of the extreme classicism the Vees believed in, but because crime was as high as you’d expect a city in Hell to be. Of course, today was an exception because you two were on your way to an exclusive club and you just refused to drive to a place so nearby.

So when you arrived at this club, he chose a table for the both of you and got up to greet some fellow overlords. You simply sat there, fancy purse in hand as you patiently waited for your Vox. You were always well-dressed and put together. It was one of the many benefits of being an Overlord’s girlfriend. A particular piece of your outfit that you always flaunted was a huge “V” shaped broach he’d given you. His hat logo atop of the letter. Some people commented on it seeming like him taking ownership of you (which might be true deep down within Vox’s heart) but truth be told, to you, it was a symbol of how close he was to your heart.

Now, needless to say, looking that pretty attracted men to you. All of which you rejected immediately. But rejection didn’t stop men at times. As was the case with the sinner who was flirting with you right now.

“Come on babe~ He probably doesn’t even pay attention to you~ And he definitely doesn’t please you.” The sinner smirked, pointing at your broach.

You made a face of slight disgust at him, “You don’t know anything about me, ok?” You huffed, undignified.

“Oh, I but I bet he doesn’t treat you right. Come on…~ Ditch that flat screen bastard. C’mon, you know you wanna…~” He insisted. You shook your head, suddenly noticing a figure behind him. Good, this would be over soon.

"I already told you, I'm not interested." You scoffed.

Behind him stood Vox, electricity cracking behind him and fangs out like a bloodthirsty animal. He was beyond protective of you and upon seeing another man speaking to you while you tried to move away from him, he knew he had to jump in.

“Í̷̬s̶̨͂ ̶̟͆ḧ̴̖e̸͆͜ ̷̯̊b̷̗̄o̶̡̐ẗ̴̮́ẖ̸͗ȩ̴͝r̶̢̃ǐ̵͍n̵̡͗g̶̗̈ ̸͍͠y̴͜͝ỏ̴͖ű̷̩,̸̞̒ ̶̦͋b̸̼̿ǎ̶̢ḅ̴͆y̷͖͝?̶̭̇ ” He asked, unable to keep his voice normal. The glitching being a sign of his agitation. He wanted to murder the man in front of him, strangle him with his bare hands, but he couldn’t. He would not dare cause that big of a scene.

“I already told him that I wasn't interested in him.” You sighed, simply annoyed by the stranger’s persistence.

That stranger turned quickly, and once he saw Vox behind him, attempted to scurry away from the situation. However, Vox swiftly appeared in front of him, grabbing the man by the collar.

“Y̵o̷u̴'̷r̶e̴ ̵p̷r̶e̶t̶t̸y̴ ̶f̶u̷c̶k̸i̶n̵g̵ ̶b̵o̷l̴d̸,̸ ̶a̸r̴e̴n̴'̶t̵ ̶y̷o̷u̸?̴ ̷T̴a̸l̴k̵i̶n̶g̵ ̸t̸o̵ ̸m̴y̵ ̴g̵i̸r̵l̴ ̷t̸h̵a̷t̶ ̶w̷a̴y̶.̷.̶.̸ ” Vox hissed, still crackling in pure rage. “I̶ ̷h̴e̸a̷r̴d̸ ̶a̷l̷l̵ ̴t̷h̴e̸ ̷s̵h̷i̸t̶ ̷y̴o̶u̸ ̷w̶e̴r̴e̴ ̴t̴e̵l̴l̴i̴n̶g̷ ̶h̷e̷r̸.̷ ̴Y̸o̵u̴ ̸t̶h̷i̴n̶k̵ ̸I̷ ̶c̵a̵n̸'̶t̴ ̶p̸l̶e̸a̸s̴e̶ ̷m̸y̸ ̸o̷w̴n̸ ̸w̶o̷m̴a̵n̷?̵ ” Vox added. His voice shaking as much as his hands. He looked like a rabid dog and it was… kind of hot to you.

“N-no, s-sir!” The man stuttered.

“It’s not what I heard you say, you u̸g̸l̸y̷ ̶f̵u̷c̷k̴i̵n̴g̵ ̷s̵l̷u̴g̴… I’ll give you two minutes to leave the vicinity before I b̴l̷o̸w̷ ̶y̵o̴u̶r̴ ̸f̸u̴c̶k̸i̶n̵g̶ ̴b̵r̶a̷i̴n̴s̸ ̴o̵u̸t̷ ̶w̵i̵t̵h̸ ̶a̷ ̸C̶r̶a̵m̵i̴n̶e̶.̴.̴.̸ ” He threatened. Oh, and he was very much capable of this. Shooting a sinner with an authentic Carmine weapon was something he’d proved he wasn’t above doing when it came to your safety or his jealousy, for that matter. And unlike regular gunshots, there was no coming back from a fatal shot from a Carmine weapon. If you were killed by it, you were fucked. Gone into oblivion.

“Y-yes sir!” The sinner stuttered. Vox let go of his collar and the puny man that had flirted with you a few minutes ago was now stumbling over himself trying to leave the club.

Vox shuddered, calming down and sitting next to you. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer towards him. “Fuck… I hate the fucking scum we live amongst. I’m not leaving you alone on a night out ever again, I’m… sorry about that bastard.”

“It ok Voxxie, it was kinda hot… what you did, you know?” You chuckled slightly.

“Yeah? You like it when I get all jealous over you?” He smirked, letting out a breathy chuckle.

“Yeah, I like it when you get all glitchy and crackly. It’s kinda cute...” You giggled.

“I should do it more often, then~.” He chuckled, planting a peck on your lips.

You kissed his screen and chuckled, "You should, it suits you a lot~" You cooed, placing a hand on his chest.

Vox let out another chuckle, "Well, good to know. Now I know how to win you over when you're being a brat."

"Hush, you! We're in public!" You protested, embarrassed that he'd say that out loud, but finding it kind of funny.

"Who said I meant it that way. Get your mind out of the gutter, baby~" He teased, holding your waist.

"I fucking hate you." You joked.

"Oh, you love me~" He retorted with a cocky laugh.

#yandere vox #yandere vox x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #vox x reader headcanons #yandere vox is canon #vox x reader #vox #vox hazbin #jealous vox #istg vox is my life #vox is so silly i swear

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violetsiren90 · 1 year ago

Text

Pairing: dom!Hoseok/sub/brat!f!Reader

Genre: Oneshot; hard smut (eventual fluff 😂); BDSM lifestyle; friends to fwb to?; canon-compliant (idolAU)

Summary: You've been friends with Hobi for years, and he's your comfort zone - but when he gets wind of a dark secret you drunkenly let slip, things between you take a sudden extreme change.

Warnings: 18+ (minors, dni); hardcore BDSM themes/relationships; full consent and safe-words ❤; Hobi is a hard dom; MC is a brat (mostly); dominance and submission; elements of primal play; sexual degradation (deg-play use of the word "b*tch"); mentions of MC's hair and hair pulling; rough physical contact in a sexual context (manhandling); mentions of drinking; kink-outing; Jimin is a menace lol; Hobi in the studio 👀 (The full oneshot will come with more specific warnings - a looooong list lol)

Mood board here! ⛓🖤

Release date: Christmas? 🎄

Author's note: Hey, y'all! I am catapulting out of my comfort zone with this one and, honestly, having the time of my life. I've been in my Hobi era lately and when the concept of dom!Hobi possessed my mind I knew I'd have to write it out or else. 😅😂 I hope to pop this under your trees around Christmas! Hope you enjoy the teaser, and as always, if no one has told you yet today, you are loved and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

Also, a big thank you to @orchidyoonkook for beta reading this - you are the real MVP! 💕

If you want to be alerted via the tag list for this when it drops, let me know!

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"What?" Hoseok's wide grin stretches further as he regards your flustered face with giddy anticipation.

You groan into your hands, willing the cushions of your friend's leather couch to swallow you like quicksand.

"Fucking Jimin - I'll kill him!" you whine, pressing your fingers to your temples, and keeping your eyes glued to the hardwood of the studio floor.

The rapper laughs as he swivels his baseball cap to sit backwards on his fluffy brown mop of hair.

"Come on! Tell me!" he insists, sprawling back in his rolling chair, the tips of his fingers touching deviously together as he regards you with twinkling eyes.

You sneak a glance at him before sighing defeatedly, which only earns another chortle of laughter from across the room.

Park fucking Jimin. You really were going to kill him. Too many bottles of soju the week prior saw you blacking out at the BTS member's pad, the one he shared with your mutual friend, Jung Hoseok. You woke up the next day, memories of the night before obscure concepts of debauchery merely alluded to by the taste of bile and the dull cranial throb of dehydration. When Jimin rather gleefully handed you, along with an iced americano, one of the booze-fueled revelations you had let slip, you begged and pleaded with him to erase the memory from his brain...or at the very least to take it to his grave. He made no such promises. And now, you are facing the man of the hour - the subject of your divulgement - who had apparently been informed that you harbored certain strong opinions in his regard. Humiliating.

You flick mildly irritated eyes back up to your friend who waggles his brows in a way that makes you want to crack a smile and sock him at the same time.

"Before I say anything, I want to know exactly what he told you," you demand, crossing your arms defensively, no cracked smile to be found.

He rolls his eyes up to the corner of the ceiling in recollection.

"He just said that you had gotten wasted and admitted something kinky...about me."

At the last two words he drops his voice dramatically low and pins you with a grin that is sickeningly predatory. Your pulse begins to hammer and you have to remind yourself that you are, in fact, capable of speech. Fuck, you think to yourself, it's happening. You can feel sweat starting to bead at your hairline. Maybe if you get it out there, just say it aloud, it will lose its power. Maybe the spell will be broken. Maybe he will laugh and you will laugh and you'll order lunch and keep irritating him while he's supposed to be working on a track. You're both adults, right? You whoosh out a breath.

Hobi is still looking at you, his bottom lip pushing up and the corners of his mouth tugging down in one of his little inverted smirks while his right leg bounces a little up and down. It is just Hobi, after all, you tell yourself. Just Hobi. You are roundly aware that it may be a lie, but it seems to allow you just enough courage to jump.

"Okay, okay!" you practically shout, and he giggles and stomps his feet, which admittedly makes revealing this particular chestnut a bit easier.

"I told him...I said..."

"What?"

"Oh, Christ! Fine!" And the rest comes out like water from a fire hose. "One time I came to drop off Jimin's charger and you were in dance practice and you were watching the guys and you had this look on your face - like you were pissed or something - and it was so unlike you and I got turned on and ended up having a fucking wet dream that you were stepping on my mother-fucking pussy, okay?! Are you satisfied now?!"

You heave a sigh and throw yourself back against the cushions, hands over your face. How you just mustered the courage to form those actual words you haven't even the faintest notion - but it was going to be you or Jimin, and it might as well be you. After your heart has begun to return to its resting rate and you've heaved a few deep breaths you steel yourself against the certain impending onslaught of Hobi's laughter and general mockery...which doesn't come. You peek through your fingers to see that your friend has shifted in his chair, facing a bit away from you toward the inside of the room, leaning forward, his hands gripping the ends of the chair's armrests. His face looks a little troubled, or pensive, you can't tell which. You sit up and really look at him, suddenly worried. Did you just fuck things irrevocably up? That was an incredibly bizarre and intimate thing to admit. Shit.

"Hobi?" you squeak, barely over a whisper, as you regard him.

He tilts his head suddenly to look at you, quick like a bird, and when those dark eagle-eyes regard you in return, you feel like a small, helpless creature scurrying across the tundra. Nowhere to hide. A bead of sweat escapes its perch and slips down from your temple. As he utters his question of response, the air suddenly becomes as thick as the tropics.

"Is that something that you'd want, Y/n? To be treated like that? To be...put in your place? Put down?"

You don't answer him. You can't. Your words, your breath, your coherent thoughts are stuck, inert, useless as your chest begins to rapidly rise and fall in heavy swells. Your eyes are locked on his face as if by magnetic force. He stands, his baggy Louis Vuitton tee falling over his grey sweats. He shoves his hands in the pockets and takes a step toward where you sit. His posture is relaxed. His gaze is anything but.

"Is it?"

You want to say you don't know. That you'd never considered it again. Never once recalled the image of it - of him - standing over you as the sole of his shoe punished your throbbing sex.

"Fuck..." you breathe, and when he doesn't take his eyes from your squirming form, you relent. "...y-yeah."

He takes another step toward you, slowly. He's crowding you now, as he looks down, and the proximity is almost more than you can bare.

"You see," he remarks musingly, "I thought you were gonna say something funny - something ridiculous," he tilts his head to one side, the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips, "But that's not funny, Y/n. No, that's not funny at all. Because, as it turns out..."

He leans down, his breath fanning over your face as he speaks. Mint and espresso. You shiver and close your eyes.

"...that's something I can do."

...what? He can...h-he can....

"Hoseok..." you whisper shakily, because it's all you can manage.

You hear him laugh darkly and you don't look at him.

"Hoseok?" he mimics, "Not, Hobi, huh? Hoseok when you're like this, is it?"

"When I'm like...what?" You practically whimper in complaint, eyes still pressed shut as your last line of defense.

But any manner of defense is in vain as he answers your query, the words dripping from his lips slowly like honey, sickly like venom -

"When you're a filthy pathetic little slut."

A whine escapes you at the complete and utter shock of his words. Suddenly you clamp your thighs together (to provide friction or obscurity to your quickly dampening cunt you are unsure), and that's when he takes your jaw between his fingers and roughly jerks your chin upwards, your eyes fluttering frantically open.

"Is this what you want?" he hisses, "For me to have my way with you like a needy whore?" Fuck, is this happening? This is really happening. Your mind reels, but that's alright - it stopped doing the thinking when he got up out of that chair. Something primal in you had taken over, something that's been starving for so long, something that longs to feed.

You do your best to nod with your chin in his grip. He swallows thickly, his eyes darting to your lips, and then back up to yours. His pupils are blown, his eyes almost wholly black as they trace over your face. Suddenly his hand slips from your chin to the nape of your neck where his hand tangles in your hair and his head drops to the side, his gaze softening.

"I need you to say it, Y/n, are you sure you want to do this?" he asks, his voice so, so low but without the edge that sends ice through your veins. His voice. He's asking you as someone who cares about you, cares what you want - your friend. Do you want this? No...you don't want it. You need it.

"Yes - yes, Hobi - I want this," you find yourself stumbling over the words to get them out.

So quickly and so assured. Have you ever been this certain of anything in your life? His fingers dance against the nape of your neck and you sigh as his eyes travel all over your body. You want to hide. You want to strip down. You want to run and you want him to chase you. You want him to punish you when he catches you. You are sick with want.

"A safe word, baby, we need a safe word," he nudges your racing mind back into the current moment with his words.

You blink, your mind running up against the sudden saccharine pet name (which he has admittedly called you before) as it scrambles for something obvious and yet not ridiculous. Something simple maybe...a flower...?

"Foxglove," you say, and he raises his brows with a grin.

"Foxglove it is," he acquiesces. "So if you ever want me to stop, ever - okay? You say that. Foxglove."

You nod.

"Say it for me," he whispers, you shiver again. Fuck.

"Foxglove." It's slow and thick leaving your mouth.

"Good girl," he purrs. Butterflies erupt in your rib-cage and your eyelids flutter. "How hard do you want it?" He asks, "How rough?"

You scramble to find your voice.

"Pretty rough, I think," you posit, a bit unsure of what that means.

He hums in response, his brows knitting in thought. You were going to have to give him something to go on, you could see that.

"I..." you stammer, "I want you to...to punish me. I want you to...to hurt me a little."

He raises a brow - looks at you, just stares as if considering. Then suddenly you know what to say.

"See...I'm not a good girl," you insist tilting your head back a bit haughtily, a bit defiantly. Being a good girl had gotten you butterflies, but that's not what you wanted right now. That's not what every cell of your body was screaming for.

He's grinning wickedly again - his other hand is slipping out of his pocket and the one in your hair is gripping at the roots.

"Hm. You're not are you?" he asks, his voice as dark and cold as the Pacific once again.

"No, Hobi," you whisper. And suddenly your world is tilted on its axis as he tightens his fingers against your scalp and yanks your head back, sending a searing pain shooting through your skin as he stoops to hiss in your ear.

"That's Hoseok, you pretty little bitch."

You let out a whimper so needy it's nearly a sob. Your heartbeat is pounding between your legs. He lets go of your hair as roughly as he grabbed it and goes to lock the door and your stomach flips - you are totally and completely at his mercy. It's a little bit terrifying and completely exhilarating. When he comes to loom over you again, you decide just exactly where you stand in all this. You know exactly what you want. You glare up at him. He narrows his eyes.

"You gonna listen, hm?"

It's not a question, you know it's not - it's a command. But you have one, just one, of your own...

"Make me."

#fic teaser #hoseok fic #hoseok smut #hoseok imagine #hobi x reader #hobi smut #hobi x y/n #jhope smut #jhope fanfic #jhope x reader #jhope x you #jhope x y/n #jhope imagine #bts imagines #bts smut #bts x reader #fic: make me

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capr1pengu1n · 4 months ago

Note

hello!

I would LOVE to see you write a oneshot for Arkham City Eddie if you are interested? It's my birthday on October 18th and I just knew I wanted to request another piece from you to celebrate! You have full reign to make it as salacious as you would like. Fem reader, please, but could you maybe do a brat kink with pigtails or something? I love picturing him with a partner that acts like a brat just to get his attention. 😈

I appreciate you, friend!

Happy Halloween!!

Until the lights go down

Summary: Under Edward's protection in Arkham City, you quickly become bored of your routine, and hope to spice up your time by seducing your lover

Warnings: 18+ smut, fem reader (no use of y/n), dom!eddie, thigh riding, blowjobs, rough sex, slight threat at the start, threat of exhibitionism, praise + degradation

Words: 5k

Notes: Happy birthday to the lovely @adhdnursegoat !!! Thank you for being such a sweetheart for as long as we've been mutuals, I really hope you have fun with this, and most importantly have a great birthday! <3

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Boring is not the word that you would have assumed would be your descriptor for the hellish megaprison you’d been thrown into…but as you lay on your back on the lumpy mattress, that’s the one that springs to mind. Boredom sets in like a rot, the latest gunfire from somewhere vaguely to the east of the building not even making you flinch like it used to anymore.

You weren’t completely sure how long both you and Edward had been here, although your lover was taken first. Watching the news in slight horror and anxiety as you saw the coverage detailing his move into the controversial new prison, more like a holding pen for the corrupt and the insane. Well…the corrupt, insane, and you. What both you and Edward weren’t planning on was how thorough Hugo Strange had been; Edward had never so much as whispered about your relationship to anyone, despite how much he secretly ached for Gotham to see how easily a man as intelligent as him could get a girl as pretty and devoted as you, but somehow Strange knew about you both. You’d been practically abducted and taken, chest heavy with your panicked breaths as you'd gazed upon the psychologist who had orchestrated this ordeal.

“Ah, Mister Nigma’s little pet. I wonder, will he protect you? Or will you be too much of a liability? A distraction from whatever twisted little game he hopes to play.”

His tone you remember was icy and clinical, head tilted as his eyes moved up and down you. You’d bit your tongue, knowing that any outburst may result in further injuries than just the bruises blooming on your arms beneath the guard’s tight grip. You looked down, but he stepped forward and gripped your jaw with a harsh cruelty. “I believe he’ll throw you to the wolves, that’s all a sociopath like him is capable of. You’re nothing but a foolish little girl for thinking he cares about you any more than a lapdog who satiates his primal needs.”

You couldn’t contain the death glare that you shot at him. He dropped his hand, leaning away from you before signalling to his guards, and before you knew it, you were in the lion’s den, so to speak. Forced onto the ground, you’d quickly scrambled to your feet as you adjusted to your surroundings. And as you noticed the eyes blinking at you from the streets.

With a shaky breath, you quickly assessed the situation. You knew you were the equivalent of fresh meat in here, only made worse by the fact they hadn’t given you another set of clothes, so there you stood in your skirt and jumper they'd kidnapped you in. Footsteps echoed behind you, a couple of men clearly wanting to intimidate you by jeering and laughing. Thoughts of breaking into a sprint had entered your slightly dazed thoughts, however you remember the sudden loud gunshot had seized your body up as you ducked. You quickly realised however, that nobody had been shooting at you, when you hear the inmates behind you quickly back away and speak.

“Fuck, I thought nobody had seen him in here. I ain’t getting’ involved.”

Confused, you looked up to see Edward striding towards you, confident as ever with a revolver in his hand. He didn’t say a word as he grabbed a hold of your arm and pulled you along, and you can’t deny the slight sadistic joy you got from glancing at the other inmates’ intimidated faces. Turns out he’d paid two of Penguin’s muscle to escort you both to his hideout, but he hadn’t spoken a word the whole way back, jawline stuck in a harsh line.

Once you were back, he’d lamented how stupid it was that you were here, how he didn’t have time to play the role of babysitter and keep you safe, how much of an imbecile Strange was for making such an enemy of him. But with a little difficulty, he’d assured you that he would, in fact, keep you safe, and the tight grip he’d kept on you that night confirmed it.

But now…now you were bored. You understand why he’s forbade you from leaving, but each day seems to bleed together into one long stretch of dullness. Edward barely had time for you, too busy concocting his masterplan, so that left you to wander around the building over and over again. He’d told you that you were beneath the iceberg lounge in an abandoned train-yard, but you couldn’t hear that much coming from outside apart from the occasional explosion.

So alas, you have the same shitty cold shower you do every day (although at least Edward’s hideout granted you the luxury of a shower in the first place) before getting changed. He’d given you some clothes he’d managed to obtain that vaguely fit you, but you decide to wear the outfit you’d been thrown in with. That’s when you hatch your plan.

An awful decision really, truly you were asking for trouble, but at least trouble was something interesting. So you tie your hair up in loose pigtails, rolling your skirt up for maximum effect, and skip down to where you know Edward will be. He’s sat, endlessly tapping away at his keyboard while observing the many monitors he’s set up to feed him information. You can’t deny you’ve always been impressed with his ability to multitask so well.

Scribbling some notes down on a scrap piece of paper, he hardly heard you come in until you lightly brush your finger along his shoulder and say in the softest voice you could muster, “Eddie, I’m bored.”

Taking a quick glance at you, he laughs. “You look ridiculous dear, I hadn’t realised you were so desperate for attention you’d attempt to replicate Harleen’s look. Do you expect me to be interested?”

You roll your eyes, letting your finger wander up and down his shoulder and collarbone beneath the tattered green suit jacket. “C’mon Eddie…I know you’re interested.”

“Just because I don’t want you to die an undignified death on the streets by some thug, doesn’t mean that I will drop all of my important work because you’re bored. Why don’t you dig deep into your limited cognitive capabilities and find something to do?”

“There’s nothing to do.” You lament, not being bothered by his usual condescending tone.

“And that’s my problem how exactly? Be grateful I’m letting you stay here.” Huffing, you sit up on his desk as he scribbles something else down. “Get off my desk.”

“Edward come on.” You whine, knowing you were acting like a petulant child, but at least he was actually acknowledging you.

He rubs the bridge of his nose, glasses falling down a little. “Do you have any idea what I’m attempting to plan here? What am I even saying, of course you don’t.”

“Tell me then.” You challenge, appealing to the narcissistic part of his personality that longs to be praised and recognised.

Eyes narrowing for a moment, he sits back in the chair and relents, starting to explain his plan. You hear him detail how he’ll kidnap the medical staff sent in to look after the welfare of the inmates, but you can’t help your thoughts drifting as he speaks. Always loving his voice, you allow your mind to bathe in the sound, eyes flitting over him. He’s clearly stressed, but when isn’t he these days? His tie hangs loosely around his neck, and your fingers itch to fix it…or to have him rip it off in a desperate haze before using it to bind your wrists. You blink your way out of those thoughts, as he’s still explaining the master plan, hands waving to solidify his points.

Your gaze flits to them, the dark purple fingerless gloves drawing attention to his digits, cleaner than they usually are, most likely due to his informants building whatever is left of the various contraptions, leaving his hands free to scheme. What you wouldn’t give to have those hands wrapped tightly around your throat, holding you in place as he uses you. Or perhaps have them drag along your trembling form, feeling the leather contrasting your smooth skin as they reach their crude destination. Or even have those long digits filling up your needy cunt, curling in just the right way that he knows will have you gushing all over his hand.

You notice he isn’t wearing a belt either. How easy it would be to just crawl to your knees, unbutton his trousers and have him gasping and gripping your hair as you-

“You really aren’t listening to a word I’m saying, are you?” His firm tone forces you roughly from your salacious daydream, blinking at him dumbly. Laughing coldly, he continues, “Really? Nothing to say? Maybe you’d have an inch more of an intellect in that pretty head of yours if you could restrain yourself from eye-fucking me every chance you get.”

Feeling the flush burn in your cheeks, you decide to double down. “Can’t help it. Not when you look so good like that.”

His eyebrows raise. “When I’ve been in a hellhole that doesn’t even have hot water, that is when you find me the most desirable?”

Others may not have noticed any change from your lover, but you know him too well. You notice the way his shoulders have relaxed slightly, how his legs have parted just enough for you to see. So you metaphorically pounce, moving off his desk slowly before straddling his lap, legs on either side of him, making the chair squeak slightly. “When we’ve been here and you’ve hardly touched me, that’s when. Can’t help that I’m needy”

He allows you to sit on his lap, hands moving to hold your hips gently. “Ah, my pet is feeling neglected is she?” His tone is mocking, but his wolfish grin and the way his eyes dart to your lips show he’s feeling just as pent up.

You make a noise of affirmation, moving to shift your hips over him. “Yes…you need to do something Edward.”

“Do not order me around.” He says lowly, tutting, “I think you’re forgetting who is in charge here.”

You smile, finally getting what you want. “Who is in charge?”

Letting out a slight groan, he grabs your cheeks in his hand, squishing them. “Oh you’re really playing with fire, my dear.”

You give him the most doe-eyed look you can muster before he kisses you roughly. Moaning into his mouth, you feel his tongue push into your lips, claiming you quickly and completely. It’s hungry and desperate, saliva being swapped in a way that would cause even the most provocative person to blush. In return, you do a more deliberate grind of your hips, feeling satisfaction as he bucks up into you instinctively. He pulls away, a string of saliva connecting you both.

“So your plan was to wear that stupid hairstyle and slutty skirt in the hopes you’d seduce me into giving you what you want?” he mutters, eyes taking in your body on his lap. Often, he looks at you like he can’t quite believe how attracted you are to him. He’d never admit it of course, to anyone who dared to find out, he’d boast about how natural it is for a gorgeous girl like you to pursue a man of such high intellect, charisma and looks. But deep down, he’s shocked that you desire him like you do, how you’d willingly be on his lap, pawing for his attention.

You nod, knowing it’s best to not lie in this situation, to which he chuckles darkly. “Oh sweetheart, you really are filthy, aren’t you?”

At your slight giggle, he leans and kisses up your neck before whispering into your ear. “I think it’s time I remind you that I’m in control…that I decide when you get touched, when you get pleasured. Not you.”

When you consent, he hums in mock thought, fingers tracing down to your hips, before reaching the soft skin just below where your skirt ends. He taps it a few times, relishing in the way you practically vibrate at the small contact, before reaching up and up to feel the material of your underwear.

“It’s a good thing a mind such as mine prepares for any eventuality.” He boasts, and your momentary confusion is dissipated when he produces a small knife from his jacket, cutting the material so it falls undignified to the hard floor. You pout a little, it’s not like you have an abundance of panties in here, before he moves the sharp blade to your thigh, gently tracing. “Problem?”

You shake your head quickly; you love being a brat sure, but you aren’t completely certain you want to unlock whatever sadistic desires he could have while holding a sharp object. Luckily he seems satisfied with your pussy now being out, but instead of touching it he simply places the knife back in his jacket before maneuvering you so you’re straddling his thigh. Gripping your hips tight, he moves you over the rough fabric of his trousers, before casting you a disinterested look.

“There, perhaps now you’ll be satiated by my mere frame while I continue my important work.” He says, but you don’t miss the cocky smirk that paints his face for a second as he speaks, before he quickly hides it.

Instead you let out a soft whine of protest, but the friction is too delicious to stop. So as he wheels the chair closer to the desk, his arm reaching to grab his nearly blunt pencil, you grip his shoulders and rolls your hips. A gasped moan escapes you, the whole situation coupled with how needy you’ve been for god knows how long means your cunt is alive with sensations that it greedily feasts on.

The only sounds from the room are your choked whimpers, the slow hum of the monitors and the scratching of his pencil on his notepad. You’re certain that there’s now a wet patch on the fabric beneath you with how much your pussy is leaking, begging to be filled or played with properly. Clit throbbing, you attempt to grind harder but it gives you little relief, so you press your forehead against his shoulder. You try to control your breathing, enough to formulate some plea, but deep down you know it won’t work. You’ll get your pleasure when Edward deems it time.

You aren’t sure how long you keep grinding, but your desperate moans increase in both frequency and pitch. He clicks his tongue at a particularly salacious noise that leaves your parted lips, and only then does he finally look at you; pupils blown so wide they’re like pools of ink, searching his body and face for anything that might free you from this pleasure-deprived prison he’s placed you in.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks condescendingly, and when you shake your head, a deep chuckle escapes him. “Greedy girl, you’re truly never content, are you?”

He grabs your waist roughly, stopping your movements before pushing his hand beneath your skirt and feeling the wet mess. “Soaked, as I predicted. I bet you’ve made a mess of my nice trousers haven’t you? Well, we can’t be having that. On your knees.”

You rush to follow his command, cheeks burning as he tuts at the discoloured fabric on his thigh. Still you do your best to look tempting as you gaze up at him, blinking slowly. He seemingly appreciates it, running a hand along your jaw. “You’ve distracted me from my plans by behaving like such a harlot, so it’s only fitting I treat you like one.”

As he speaks, he unbuttons and frees himself from his trousers, length springing free and your mouth practically waters in anticipation. But before you can taste it, he stops you. “No no…you have to make this worth my time, girl. Now ask me nicely.”

You swallow, attempting to formulate the words in your head before you start to beg. “Please Edward, please let me please you. I want to…I need to please you.”

He smirks. “Good attempt, but calling me my name is most certainly not what I want right now.”

Knowing his egotistical nature very well, you relent, the brattiness making way for a carnal need for him. “Please let me please you Mister Nigma, Sir.”

He gives you a soft pat on the cheek that you can only infer means you’ve done a good job before he allows you to part your lips and take the head in your mouth. Sighing in relief, you suck slowly before pushing forward to take in more, bobbing your head as you savour finally having his attention. He lets out a small groan of satisfaction that makes your clit pulse, so you keep going, dragging your tongue along the underside.

“Good…perhaps I’ve been using you wrong this whole time. Instead of seeing you as a distraction, maybe I should just chain you to the desk to keep as my own personal stress reliever. Ready to open her whore mouth and take me whenever I see fit. I’m sure my productivity would increase.” He brags, although the hand that currently isn’t stroking your hair is gripping the arm of the chair so hard you’re sure the knuckles under his glove are white.

You moan around him in response, the sounds of you sucking filling the room in an indecent cacophony. As you do, your body feels like it’s on fire, like any sensation would tip you over the edge. But you��re determined to make him come undone, blinking up at him as you take him deeper. The hand that was on the top of your head runs down to your jawline, before a wicked idea forms.

“Well, I suppose if you insist on wearing your hair like that, might as well make it useful.” He sneers down at you, before gripping both ends of your pigtails. You realise what’s going to happen, and you do your best to relax your throat as he pulls you down on his cock, using the hair like handlebars to move you as he sees fit.

He isn’t being as rough as he could be, clearly holding back from really ruining your poor throat. But he still pushes you down until your eyes water, feeling his cock reach almost the back of your throat before giving you the respite of pulling you back up to the tip. Edward lets out a small sigh, eyes closing for a moment before snapping back open. He’d never been able to deprive himself of the beauty of your face as he ruins it.

“Fuck…look at you sweetheart. Such a mess.” He says like he’s chastising you.

You can’t hope to respond, a small whine escaping you until his cock fills your mouth once more. Sure, he’s not overly big, but he prides himself on being big enough to completely fill whatever hole he deems suitable. Over and over again he uses you, until you blink away soft tears and suck in a particularly good way; a hiss escapes him and he pulls you off roughly, letting go of your pigtails.

“I suppose you’ve been good enough to warrant a reward, I’ll allow you the honour of sitting on my cock.” He says, trying to mask the real reason; that he was seconds away from blowing his load deep down your throat.

But you’re delighted you finally have the chance to feel him properly, in the way you’ve touched yourself every night you’ve been here thinking about. So you climb back into his lap, positioning yourself above him before he crudely uses his cockhead to rub your clit in circular moments. Moaning simply makes him chuckle darkly, cooing at you to “stop behaving like a needy whore and enjoy what I give you.”

Luckily he lets you finally sink down on him, feeling every inch stretch you open until you’ve taken him all the way. You both moan out, but you watch as he tilts his head back and enjoys the sensation of your warm cunt squeezing around him. He’s gorgeous like this, so unlike the demeaning supervillain he presents himself to Gotham as. You have no doubt you’ll see glimpses of that in a moment, but for now you enjoy how blissful his features are.

You experimentally roll your hips, making you both groan out, before you attempt to find a rhythm. He keeps a tight grip on your hips, clearly not wanting you to go too fast too quick, seeking to enjoy you for as long as he can. But you want to just ride him hard and fast, to chase your release until you’re making a mess all over his lap.

“Always so tight for me.” He grits out, and you bathe in the praise as you keep moving up and down. Your fingers dig in to the shoulder of his jacket, before he huffs and shrugs it off, leaving him in his off-white shirt and question mark tie. As you keep riding him, your hands trail down to his tie, idly playing with the material between your digits.

His grin grows as he looks at you. “So eager to strip me, or does the pretty girl have a lewder idea of what to do with my tie?” he says condescendingly.

When you just moan in response, he doubles down. “I could bind those pesky wrists behind your back, make sure you aren’t touching what isn’t yours. Or perhaps I’ll blindfold you, so you never know what your master is going to inflict upon you.”

His words cause you to clench harder around him, and he starts to play with your clit lazily as you move. With how pent up you are, your pace increases a little as his actions and words have you practically tasting your orgasm already. His hips twitch upwards a little, clearly fighting the urge to just take you all for himself in a mad rush. But how can he when you’re so close to coming undone for him, all by yourself?

“Oh look at that, is the big girl going to cum all by herself?” he smirks, his tone making you flush with embarrassment and arousal. But he’s right, with your body moving up and down coupled with his dexterous fingers toying with your clit, you were on the edge of orgasm.

As you nod quickly, he smirks and nods in return. “Make a mess all over me dear, just know I’m not going to stop until I achieve satisfaction.”

His words had trailed off in your mind half way through as you were too busy cumming on his cock, shaking and writhing in his lap. You slump forward, and he allows you the mercy of resting for a few moments before he bucks up into you, causing you to whine softly against his ear.

But he stops, his eyes darting to one of the top monitors, and a wicked expression crosses his face. “Be a doll and turn around for me, okay?”

You nod blindly at his instruction, turning so your back was to his chest before sinking back down on his throbbing cock. In your haze to do what he’d asked, you hadn’t followed his gaze to see what he’s looking at, not until he grasps your hips and begins to move you again do you glance upwards.

On one of the monitors, is one of his informants, dressed in what you think is Two-Face’s gang’s uniform, waving at the camera to get your lovers attention. Your breath catches at the sight, but Edward only chuckles behind you, not allowing you to slow down.

“Looks like we have an audience. Tell me, what’s to stop me from broadcasting a projection of what’s happening here outside on that wall behind him? Then he’d be able to see what a little whore like you does for my attention, for the riddler’s attention.”

His voice is deep and commanding, clearly the situation has stroked his ego in that all too familiar way, his grip almost bruising on your hips as he continues. “I think it’ll be good for the denizens of this wretched place to see who is really in charge, to remind them that my intellect has afforded me not just my reputation, but anything I desire. Including my cute little pet who offers herself up so willingly to me.”

His words are punctuated with guttural moans, his need now overwhelming. But he’d never pass up an opportunity like this, so he leans forward, one hand still holding you firmly in his lap and on his cock, before flicking a switch.

“Speak.”

“M-Mister Nigma, sir. I planted all them trophies ya wanted down in the courthouse, although I couldn’t do one of them, since I-I was nearly caught and-“

A particularly rough thrust upwards has you biting your lip after a small noise involuntarily escaped you, but you keep quiet as you try and control the rhythm of your movements. You’re glad you aren’t being projected for the man to see, but there is still the risk he’ll hear you. After all, you aren't sure how much the microphone can pick up, so he might be able to hear the soft squelch of your cunt as you move it up and down. Edward doesn’t seem bothered by the noise you made, simply rubbing your hips as he glares at the monitor.

“And you think this excuse will be useful to you? What the hell do I pay you for? I know a simple verbal instruction is hard for a cerebrally challenged monkey to follow, but do try and keep up.” He lambasts the poor guy out front, doing a remarkably good job of keeping his voice steady and even. But you can tell he’s getting off on the power of the situation; of having his lover servicing him sexually while he chastises one of the people who works for him.

“S-Sorry Mister Nigma, sir. I’ll get on it right away.”

Cruelly, Edward decides that now is the perfect time to move his hand up to tweak your nipple harshly, causing a whine to fall past your lips. You’re sure the man heard it, his features furrowing a little in confusion on the monitor before Edward flips the switch off.

With a grunt he lifts you off him before bending you over the desk and entering you in one harsh thrust yet again, the breath being knocked out of you. He sets a rough pace, clearly chasing his own release. All you can do is cling on for dear life as he uses you like a toy. The crude noises of your pussy being filled over and over again only serve to have you clenching around him in pleasure, your eyes forced to face the monitors. Forced to see just how much control Edward has over Arkham City, how much he knows about everything going on here as your eyes watch the inmates, and crucially how none of them know that he’s fucking you like a man possessed while you observe them.

“Fuck, it’s a shame I can’t fill you up while we’re in here. Guess I’ll just have to make you a filthy mess instead.” He grunts out, and you barely have time to process before he pulls out and quickly strokes himself to completion all over your ass. Both of your breaths can be heard heaving as you take a few moments to come down, the sensations still a gentle simmer across your skin. You hear him tuck himself away, fixing his clothes before you gently try and move.

“Stay.” He demands quietly, and you’re unsure why until you feel him gently cleaning his cum away from your skin with a spare rag. Once he’s done, he smooths your skirt back down as he helps you back into a standing position. Without uttering another word, he leads you back to the makeshift bedroom, settling you on the mattress to rest. You smile softly at the feeling of him taking care of you, in his own way. He sits on the edge, fidgeting with his hands a little. Getting comfy on the mattress, you go to reach out for him before stopping yourself, sensing something is…off with him.

“I…do in fact have something else for you. I was planning on giving it to you later, but you forced my hand.” He says suddenly, causing you to tilt your head in intrigue. Getting up, he rifles through a drawer you hadn’t thought to look in until he removes a small black box, with a slightly charred ribbon tied around it.

“I can imagine spending your birthday in a prison city wasn’t your ideal scenario.” He states, handing you the box as you look at him, shocked. You hadn’t even mentioned it was your birthday, not really thinking it was the right time in your current situation.

“You remembered?”

He lets out a scoff. “Of course I remembered, I’m no simpleton. I’m more than capable of remembering a date, especially when this dim-witted society places so much emphasis on someone’s date of birth.”

As you glance at the box in your hand, he continues with an awkward cough. “I confess I did have something a little better in mind. But it’s hard to procure items in here that aren’t of the firearm or explosive variety, and I didn’t factor into my plans our joint incarceration.”

With a soft smile, you move yourself into a seated position and tug on the ribbon before opening the box, seeing a simple bracelet in his signature shade of green. “Edward…it’s lovely.”

“Yes, I’m aware.” He says quickly, for once his eyes were trained to the ground instead of your face, “Again, not the gift I was planning for you but…well it’s the best I could do here.”

You’re truly touched, heat rushing to your cheeks as you smile lovingly up at him. “Edward it’s perfect, thank you.”

Shuffling, you wrap your arms around him into a tight hug, burying your face in his neck. You don’t care that you’re both covered in dry sweat, or that you both reek of sex, all you want is to be close to him. He pretends to huff at your display of affection, but he wraps his arms around you regardless, holding you flush against him.

“Happy birthday, my dear.”

#the riddler #the riddler x reader #riddler smut #riddler x reader #arkham riddler #edward nigma #edward nigma x reader #edward nigma smut #edward nygma #edward nygma x reader #edward nygma smut #dc fanfic #dc smut #dc x reader #arkham city #arkhamverse #arkhamverse riddler

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it-happened-one-fic · 7 months ago

Text

Any Weight - Idia

Author Notes: So I really didn't know what I was going to post today in terms of oneshots, so this happened. This fic has been sitting my google docs for quite while and honestly started out life as practice for writing Idia. I wrote this and edite it while listening to the song "Heavy in Your Arms" by Florence in the Machine. As per usual, reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender-neutral reader/ sfw/ fluff with angst/ comfort/ romance highly implied/ Spoilers for Ignihyde Chapter

Word Count: 1539

Idia shifted slightly as you leaned against his back, reading some book as he farmed one of his games. And in easy, quiet moments like this, with the weight of your body resting gently against his, feeling like a silent but ever-present promise, it was easy to forget the truth of his situation. Of his life.

But Idia was cursed. It was a weighty, but simple truth that had hung over his head for his entire life. Because he’d never known a life where he wasn’t cursed.

Idia was cursed to remain chained to the Island of Woe, to S.T.Y.X., and to guard the remains of those who’d fallen prey to their own magic and dark thoughts, just like he almost had back when you’d come all the way to S.T.Y.X.’s headquarters after Grim and your friends.

Idia was also cursed to never be able to feel darkness’s embrace, which could hide even the greatest of shames, until the light inevitably came. Because his hair always shone that cold blue light on him. Never letting him hide away from the gaze of all those who looked upon him in horror or disgust and saw all of his many flaws.

Idia was even cursed by his own personality. Unable to tolerate being around others without shutting down and drowning in their silent gazes. Judgmental, fearful, and sometimes pitying, no matter how he felt about it.

It was disgusting, infuriating, and so many other things that left him filled with ire towards anyone and everyone who didn’t understand him or his life. If they were going to gawk at him, then he would mock them for their naive, stupid views, and avoid them. There was no use in bothering with people who would never care.

After all, his life had been decided for him from the very moment he’d been born.

And all of those reasons, as well as so many others, were why he’d pushed you away initially. A laughable thought now, considering you were sitting on his bed, with your back pressed to his in a gentle reminder of your presence that, rather than causing him to tense like so many did, made him relax into the silence that rested easily between the two of you.

But when he’d first met you, he never would have imagined this. Not with how you’d seemed so strange.

A weirdo, to be sure, with the way your gaze had never held that crushing weight that threatened to smother him that so many others had.

Some person from another world who apparently had far greater concerns than a flame-haired freak that lived in some other dorm. And, to an extent, Idia had been able to respect that.

It had quickly become obvious that you were more than just a weirdo, though. If nothing else, you were capable of handling and surviving numerous overblots. And even as he was getting to know you, it had already been clear to Idia that you were capable of so much more than him.

And that was still clear to him even today. Because if he was a curse, then you were more akin to a blessing.

A blessing who stepped in and stopped overblots from destroying their victims rather than studying the remains of those who were already done for.

A blessing who could see people at their very worst, and still accept them.

And finally, you were a blessing in that you had a personality that was like a balm to introverts. A person he could just be himself around without having to be surrounded by the multitude of people who’d already noticed your calming demeanor.

In reality, Idia knew you weren’t a blessing. Something so good could never survive in a school like this one. And he’d experienced firsthand exactly how much of a pest you could be.

But even with that knowledge, there were still moments when you were like a protagonist with the way you stood out so glaringly from the crowd.

Of course, Idia stood out from the crowd as well, but never in a remotely good way.

At odds with this, your only supposedly negative quality was that you lacked magic. And while it did make your life a pain sometimes, you never let it bother you. Not like how Idia let his negative qualities and anything he lacked burden him.

And it was a heavy burden. A heavy burden that Idia knew made him equally heavy and unpleasant to be around. Because Idia was no fool. He knew his presence, his friendship, and even his very existence was a weighty one. He could easily drag a person down to their doom with the curses that trailed after him, like an entourage that couldn’t and wouldn’t go unnoticed.

And all of those reasons, plus a myriad of others, were why your presence here, with him, right now ought to be strange. But it wasn’t. In fact, it was perfectly normal for you to hang out with him in the solace of his room. Sometimes gaming with him, and sometimes just doing your own thing in silent companionship.

The selfish part of him clung to both you and your presence even as he continued to face his game in silence.

Were he just a bit bolder, it would be easy to imagine himself turning to face you and wrapping his arms around your neck, with his fingers curling around your temple as if they could crown you as he cradled you to him.

But what could he ever crown you with other than the knowledge that you deserved far better?

It was his way of betraying you, and he knew that. His betrayal was one of the reasons he never tried to cross the dotted line that strained to keep you and him from growing any closer. Similarly, it was the reason the silence remained between the two of you as Idia pondered all of the oddities that were your relationship with him.

Because you supported him. Embracing him in your arms like he was weightless, rather than the way he knew he had to be a chain tangling itself around your ankles, threatening to trip you up and drag you down.

But you didn’t let him sink, and you didn't get pulled down by him.

It was like you were a hero in some tropey anime. Willing to plunge into the very deepest of sorrows and pull him out. Never fearing the chances of drowning in the deep darkness of his curses, but also not shunning the light that revealed all. Good and bad.

Or if you did fear it, you didn’t let that fear hold you back. And perhaps that thought was even more alarming. Because that meant you cared about him enough to not let fear hold you back.

Either way, you seemed to just accept both his good and bad traits. Taking it all on with a smile not unlike the one you’d worn when you’d first forced your way into his life.

You’d shrugged off his moody words and met his gaze with your smiling one, “Nobody’s perfect, and it’s not like you’re the only guy at NRC who has overblotted or has caused me problems.”

You were definitely still a strange one, but Idia could no longer view that strangeness as bad. How could he when you could somehow look at the chains that surrounded him, binding him to his curses and doing their best to condemn him and those he chose to tie himself to, and smile in the face of it all?

But as frustrating as your strange but oddly charming weirdness was, it made him want to do better.

To support you just like how you supported him. To let you know that even in this world that was not your own, you weren’t alone.

If you could willingly walk into that never-ending light that constantly showed his every weakness to the entire, unforgiving, and uncaring world, then he would hide you in the darkness and carry you when it hurt too much.

Because he knew it hurt, even if you hid it well with that smile that only seemed to truly fail you when you were facing an overblot or when the mention of your home came up.

Even if you were strong enough to carry him and all his curses, Idia knew it hurt and that the nights were long for you.

In fact, it was obvious to him.

Because that weight you carried was why, even after having made friends and forged yourself a family, you still sought your own world. And he recognized that weight’s presence. How could he not when he was all too familiar with carrying a burden all his own?

But you would never be too heavy for him. Not when he was used to carrying the weight of his own curses.

He could carry you, and you would never drag him down. In fact, he doubted your feet would ever even touch the ground. Because, just like how the weight of you leaning against him was more of a comfort than a burden, he knew that, if it was you, he could carry any weight.

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jjkamochoso · 21 days ago

Note

Hihi!! You probably have a lot of requests, so if you're too busy, no worries! I was just wondering if you could do a little fluff oneshot with Sanemi where the reader is sick and he can't kiss, hug, or be near them. I love your past Sanemi fluffs so much, he holds my heart in a chokehold. Again, if you can't write it, that's okay, thank you so much, and I love your writings 💚💚💚

Hi anon!! Thank you so much for your kind words, I’m so happy you’ve liked my past works!!🥰❤️ your request is absolutely adorable😭😭 as someone who always gets sick, this request was perfect for me and brought me comfort so I hope it does the same for you!! Wishing you good health for the rest of the year!!!

Also, just for future reference, I will NEVER be too busy for your guys' requests!! It may take me a while to get to them, but they will never be ignored!! You're all too precious to me for that🥰

Save Me from My Sickness

Fluff

Sanemi Shinazugawa x sick!gn!reader

Warnings: cussing, mentions of cold/flu symptoms (snot, nausea, vomiting [not detailed], etc.)

You knew you were sick from the moment you opened your eyes and took your first conscious breath of the morning.

Tried to take your first conscious breath of the morning, that is.

Your throat burned with the rage of a thousand dragons; it felt like you were swallowing hot coals. Breathing out of your nose was no better with the way both nostrils were almost completely blocked. You groaned, throwing yourself into a nasty coughing fit.

"Are you alright in there? It sounds like a damn infirmary," Sanemi teased from the other room. Unable to answer, you fought for breath while mucus rattled somewhere in your chest.

"I was joking, you don't have to give me the silent treatment," your boyfriend scoffed, sliding the door open to your bedroom. His demeanor completely changed when he got a good look at you: eyes rimmed with red, nose dripping with snot, fighting for your life on the futon. Sanemi practically ran out of the room to fetch fresh water for you as you desperately needed a drink to calm your throat. When he returned, you had finally been able to catch your breath. You gulped down the cup he poured for you.

"Hey, hey, slow down, it's not goin' anywhere," he said, rubbing a hand on your back. You finished the water, silently crying at the way the liquid only further irritated your throat.

"You look like shit," he commented, earning a nasty glare from you as you blew your nose.

"I think I'm sick," you proclaimed, scooting your body away from him. His purple eyes watched you with curiosity.

"I know you're sick," he retorted. "Even Himejima could see that. Why are you moving away from me like I'm the one with germs?"

"Because," you chided, "I can't get you sick. You're a Hashira. People need you, Sanemi."

"You need me right now."

"I'll survive. They won't."

Sanemi let out a sound reminiscent of a growl. "I hate that you're right. I can't just leave you here by yourself, though. You probably would die."

You rolled your eyes, smiling slightly. "Go train like usual. I'll rest up here. I'm sure I'll be back on the mend in no time."

Sanemi hesitantly stood, his inner voice at war with itself. On one hand, you had a point. The Corps couldn't afford to have him out of commission with whatever nasty virus you were currently hosting. On the other, how could he be expected to go about his day without getting his coveted good morning kiss from you?

"I'll come check on you in a few hours. Just... don't die on me, okay?"

You knew he was only half joking.

"Okay."

You started coughing again, your throat unhappy with usage. Lying back down with a groan, you snuggled under your blankets as Sanemi watched on, his heart panging with uneasiness. He knew of too many good people taken by illness; he be damned if you were next.

"Rest well, y/n," he whispered, his voice softer than he thought himself capable of. His words hung in the air of the stale room rife with sickness. Feeling overwhelmed and at a loss of what to do, Sanemi took your advice and went back to his daily routine.

Your absence was painfully obvious to the Wind Hashira. Though you weren't a demon slayer, you often helped with his training and, over time, became a staple in his success. Without you, Sanemi's training grounds were an absolute mess and almost impossible to use.

He had only been outside for an hour before the whole place looked like a tornado had run through it. Frustrated with his lack of progress and his lack of you, Sanemi decided to check in on you and make sure you were still alive. He walked into the bedroom and his heart began to pound against his scarred chest. You were awake but you were a shivering mess. Your teeth chattered against one another as you huddled under your thin blanket, looking like you were about to keel over any moment.

"C-could you get-t me another b-blanket, please?" you asked, your voice raspy.

"Of course," he nodded, rounding up every spare blanket you two had. He approached you, soft textiles in hand, but you signaled him to stop.

"Don't get any closer. You can just throw them to me."

Sanemi scoffed. "I'm not hitting you in the face with blankets no matter how much I want to sometimes. Let me at least wrap you up."

You tried to argue but you had no energy left. He worked quickly, tucking you in to ensure no warm air would escape. As he backed away, satisfied with his work, he noticed a thin sheen of sweat covering your forehead. Despite your protests, he leaned over and touched the back of his hand to your head.

You definitely had a fever.

Sanemi pulled his hand away as if he had gotten burned. Without a word, he found a washcloth and soaked it in cold water, gingerly laying it across your forehead. He noticed your shoulders relax with the sensation of coolness as it was attempting to lower your body heat. He thought back to his childhood, trying to remember what else his mom used to do for him and his siblings when they fell ill.

He stood from his previous kneeling position. "I'm going to make some soup. Yell if you need me."

"No really, you don't have to do all this for me. I feel bad enough."

Sanemi didn't say a word; he didn't have to. His deadly glare made your mouth clamp shut.

"I know, you wouldn't do it if you didn't want to," you said meekly after a moment of silence.

"And you're damn right I want to," he replied, leaving you to rest by yourself once more.

You woke up a few hours later to the delicious smell of soup wafting through the mansion. Sanemi came in, a steaming bowl in his hands. He set it down next to you, watching you with his arms crossed as you stubbornly hoisted yourself up so that he wouldn't come near you.

"I can help, you know," he snarked.

"Diseases are spread through close contact, you know," you snarked back, earning an eye roll from the man. He didn't move from his spot the entire time you slurped down your first meal of the day, thanking whatever gods were out there that you hadn't lost your appetite. When you were done he cleared your dish and came back into your room, not wanting you to be left alone for too long. Apparently, he was the one left alone--you were nowhere to be seen. Panic set in as he called out your name, wondering where you could've gone in such a short time and in your condition. His question was answered when he saw you on your knees, bent over with your head facing the toilet.

"C'mon, my cooking isn't that bad," he said, trying to lighten the mood. He wasn't prepared to see your tear stained cheeks as you looked up at him, your mouth trembling.

"Sanemi, I really don't feel good. You need to leave before I puke."

He was taken aback. "Leave you here by yourself? No way."

You let out a soft whimper as you settled on the bathroom floor. "But this is really gross. I'm really gross."

More tears began to fall, leaving glistening trails down your face. There was no way Sanemi could keep his distance from you now. You needed someone to comfort you and he was the only one that could provide you with the sense of security you so desperately needed. He wasted no time, scooping you into his arms and holding you tight as you cried. He didn't let go, even when you really did throw up, not wanting you to feel like you had to go through this alone. He tenderly wiped your face of leftover drool, showing a more nurturing side of him that he forgot he had.

But he'd never forget about it when it came to you.

"I'm sorry you've had to take care of me," you sniffled between coughs, trying not to cry again. "I'm a complete mess."

"Your mess is the only one I don't mind cleaning," he replied easily, keeping your frame held snug against his chest.

"Why?"

"Because." Sanemi paused before continuing. "Because I love you. And that means I'd do anything for you. I want to be by your side always, even if that means I have to listen to mucus filled coughs and soup being puked into a toilet."

"You're such a romantic, Shinazugawa," you said, blowing your nose into a tissue.

Sanemi procured another tissue for you from his pocket, discarding your old one. "Only for you, dumbass."

TAGLIST: @kana-daydreams

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hugmekenobi · 2 months ago

Text

A Series of Firsts

A Bad Batch S1 Prequel Oneshot: 'First Fight'

Gif by @imalovernotahater

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Summary: A mission to Ryloth sees some underlying tensions getting expressed in the wrong way

Warnings: No use of (Y/N), canon-typical violence, awkward Hunter and reader, slightly angry Hunter/he doesn't quite act like himself, my limited battle strategy knowledge, minor lies/deceit, swearing, very light angst, scheming brothers

Genre: Friends (idiots) to Lovers

<Previous Prequel Oneshot

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3.9K (I forgot how writing everything on one doc worked so ignore my previous idea of this being much longer... had a dumb moment lol)

Rating: 18+ (a catch all for all my works)

Author's Note: Yes, this is a reasonable length. No, I clearly don't know how word docs work anymore haha but I hope you all enjoy and it's still long enough!

Ryloth

You were a couple months into your membership with your newfound squad and things with the Batch had settled surprisingly well. Each of their personalities and ways had made it easy for you to feel comfortable and at ease with them. They were all likeable in their own way: Echo was a kind, solid voice of reason that kept you- and you guessed Hunter- sane, Tech had some funny quirks that kept things light and his intelligence made him both fascinating to watch and converse with, Crosshair’s natural sarcastic and cool disposition was something you had no trouble matching, and Wrecker, well there wasn’t much to not like about the gentle giant of the group who rarely had a negative thing to say about anything or anyone. Plus, you had no issue getting behind their atypical strategic plans and blatant disregard for regulation. So, to look at, everything should’ve been great so far, but it wasn’t.

Even with all this goodness, what had not settled for you were your complicated feelings for the certain clone sergeant who was determined to make your life a living nightmare– and that was saying something given your already tricky personal predicament that you still hadn’t worked up the courage to inform the squad of- but keeping that hidden was proving to be the easier task. You could keep up the pretence of being normal about that but for some reason, you had to channel all your focus into being normal around the clone with enhanced senses. You’d really hoped Devaron had been nothing more than you adjusting to the shock of seeing a clone as- well- as attractive as he was. You’d almost hoped it was only as shallow a thought as that.

But no, of course that wasn’t the case. Not only was Hunter a patient, understanding and caring person but he was also a highly skilled and capable squad leader which meant now you were just constantly feeling confused. You didn’t know what this feeling was, but you needed to get a handle on it because you couldn’t afford nor allow it to grow into that territory that you’d been warned of all your life, especially because he acted perfectly normal around you now. You knew you could do it; it was just proving to be something that was easier said than done.

“Hey, you with us?” Hunter asked as he rested a hand on your shoulder.

You remembered where you currently were and snapped back into the current moment as you gestured to the holomap and avoided the questioning looks of the others. “Wrecker and I enter through the back of the base as the rest of you create a distraction out front before joining us inside to provide back up as Wrecker brings the base down.” You confirmed hurriedly as you focused on not noticing the fact that his touch was setting off that warm tingling in your veins.

Hunter nodded and realised his hand was still on you, so he quickly removed it and cleared his throat as he spoke more professionally to the whole group, “Let’s move out.” He ordered before he put on his helmet and led the way out the ship.

You pulled your hood and mask up and did the same.

The others watched the two of you head out first and shared knowing glances. They had noticed the lingering looks, the brief but meaningful touches and building tension between the two of you but it seemed you both were determined to ignore it and act like complete morons about it. However, the opportunities for action were few and far between given the busy mission schedule but they knew something had to be done to speed this along.

“Where the hell are you guys?” You shouted into your comm as you and Wrecker mowed down line after line of droids. It was simple task but back up wouldn’t go amiss and they were late which you knew wasn’t a strategic change. Something had gone wrong.

“The intel we got before taking this mission was wrong! They had more numbers and sent more out front that we thought!” Echo’s voice informed you both over the sounds of blaster fire.

“I should point out that this has been a growing concern.” Tech’s voice inputted, “We have rarely had a mission where the intel we received beforehand was accurate.”

“Okay, well, can you make it, or should we just do it ourselves?” You asked as you worked on opening the control room door whilst Wrecker stood guard.

“Negative. You need to pull out! Leave and we’ll regroup!”

“Hunter, we’ve already made it to the control room! We can still-” You started to protest as the door opened.

“There’s a large wave of droids heading directly your way! You’ll be boxed in! The two of you need to get out of there right now!” Hunter interrupted sharply.

“Oh come on! I haven’t blown something up in weeks!” Wrecker complained into the comm channel, but he was readying himself to leave.

You placed a hand on his forearm to stop him. “Keep setting the charges.” You ordered as you scanned the room and caught sight of a familiar panel in the wall.

Wrecker propped his helmet up on his head and looked at you in confusion. “But Hunter said-”

“I know but we’ve come this far, we can finish the mission and get out of here, I promise.”

“How?” Wrecker asked before he fired off a round of shots down the corridor to down the approaching line of droids and took up position by the door to cover you as you searched for whatever it was you were seeking out.

You pulled on the handle and when you were sure he wasn’t looking, you summoned your gift and widened the manipulated the metal walls so it would accommodate both of you. “Garbage chute exit?” You offered with a mischievous lilt to your voice.

“Oh hell yeah!” Wrecker boomed as he turned away from the door got to work on setting the explosives.

Your comm chirped again and you heard Hunter’s insistent shouts of your name and Wrecker’s. Hunter spoke with a type of authority that on any other day might’ve convinced you to stand down your or it might’ve evoked a far more inappropriate bodily response, but you were determined to leave Ryloth with a win and you were already too far gone in the plan, you wouldn’t turn back down so you turned yours off before the order could finish.

“You sure about this, Wrecker?” You double checked. You knew you’d instructed him to keep going but if he wasn’t comfortable disobeying both his brother and squad leader, you wouldn’t make him.

“I’m all in.” Wrecker confirmed as he silenced his own comm and got to work on finishing up the layout of the charges.

You tossed your dagger into the control panel of the door to keep the oncoming wave of droids out and to keep you both in.

At the sound of static, Hunter ground out a deep and aggravated sigh as he stared up at the console room.

He knew you and Wrecker were still in there and coming up with a dangerous, ill-conceived plan and he was racking his brain for a way back in to stop it and get you both outta there. They’d finally taken care of the droids that had been sent out to meet them but the ones inside were the problem now.

“Let them figure it out.” Echo advised calmly.

“I believe the two of them are capable enough to find their escape route.” Tech agreed but he still began working on pulling up schematics of the building to see if there was a better way in for them to go should they need to.

Hunter clenched his jaw, “She’s trapped in there with no clear way out. We don’t know that she’ll be fine.”

“They’re going to be fine.” Crosshair corrected him bluntly.

Hunter swallowed thickly, “Right. That’s what I meant.” He said, shifting on his feet nervously as he could only wait and hope you made it out of there in one piece.

“All set?” You asked as you hovered by your exit.

Wrecker nodded firmly and activated the bombs just as the two of you entered the chute.

The four of them watched on from the safety of the ground and they heard the low booming and telltale sparks of explosions, but they saw two figures tumble out of a chute just as the base started to collapse.

“See? They had covered.” Crosshair said with an amused lilt to his voice.

But Hunter wasn’t amused in the slightest. He holstered his blaster and dagger and led the way towards the two of you.

“That. Was. Awesome!” Wrecker whooped as the two of you finished sliding down the landfill pill and pulled you to your feet. “We should have plans like that more often!”

You wiped some of the trash off your body and tugged your mask down to grin at the clone, “Nice work on the bombs.” You said with an impressed nod back to the wreckage.

Wrecker smiled proudly and went to say something else, but Hunter’s voice interrupted him.

“What the hell was that?” Hunter asked angrily as he removed his helmet.

You met Hunter’s stern stare but placed a hand on Wrecker’s chest to stop him from taking the heat as you sensed him getting ready to speak. “Totally my idea, Sarge. Wrecker had nothing to do with it.”

“Oh, I know, and I want to know why you felt it appropriate to go against my order?” Hunter interrogated tightly.

“We needed to complete the mission.” You disputed.

“And deliberately risking the life of a teammate was the only way to do that?” Hunter challenged.

You furrowed your brow. “I’d never deliberately endanger anyone or-”

“But by making that call you did! You can’t ignore a direct order like that!”

“Crosshair and Echo pulled something similar two weeks ago!” You argued as you gestured to the two clones watching on.

“She has a point, Hunter.” Echo said tentatively with Tech nodding in agreement and Crosshair giving an affirming but mostly unbothered shrug.

But Hunter ignored him and only spoke to you. “That’s different! They’ve been in this squad long enough. They’ve earned the right to behave that way, you haven’t!” Hunter said before he could really think the words through.

The words stunned you. “Haven’t earned the right.” You repeated under your breath but the hurt you felt was written across your face. You knew you’d only been with them for a relatively short period of time given the circumstances, but you’d thought you’d bonded with them in some way. Clearly, you’d thought wrong.

Hunter had never regretted a choice of words more. He’d let his fear drive him and now he wished he had the power to turn back time to do this all again. “Wait, I didn’t-” But he was too late. You turned your back on him and walked away in the direction of the ship before he could finish.

There was a brief moment of silence as they all watched you storm off before Wrecker broke it.

“Come on, Sarge, you have to admit that was a pretty great plan!”

“Wrecker-”

“She let me use all the bombs I wanted and even getting to that control room was easy!”

“Wrecker, that’s en-”

“You can’t have meant what you said cause she’s one of us for sure!”

“Wrecker, enough.” Hunter snapped bitterly but he immediately regretted his tone. He knew his reaction wasn’t fair. He wasn’t angry, not really, and if he was being honest, it wasn’t the fact that orders had been disobeyed, it was seeing how Wrecker had reacted to you and the fact that his brother sounded so fond of and completely captivated by you that was really bothering him right now. And none of that should have bothered him, but it did though he couldn’t fathom why it-

Oh.

Dammit.

This was jealously.

He was fucking jealous. He was jealous of his own brother, and he had no valid reason to be.

“Was waiting for you to figure that out.” Crosshair remarked knowingly as he saw the expression on Hunter’s face even though his brother masked it quickly.

Hunter gathered himself and got his emotions under control. You weren’t his in any way and that was fine. Plus, you clearly didn’t think of him or any of them like that, so he had to get himself together. Echo’s voice pulled him out his thoughts.

“You were a bit harsh, Hunter. We’ve all acted out one way or another.” Echo pointed out.

Hunter sighed as he said, “She disobeyed a direct order-”

“Uh yeah… that’s kinda what we do.” Wrecker countered in bewilderment, “And it was brilliant! I got to blow things up and we completed the mission.”

“She put you in unnecessary danger.” Hunter disputed.

“I wanted to, Hunter. She made sure I was okay with it.” Wrecker told him.

Of course you did. He should’ve known that you would’ve. You clearly cared for the safety of the team, and you had a sense of duty and responsibility that he admired… and it was one of the many reasons why it was so hard for him to simply shove every annoying flicker of unprofessional emotion away. You kept giving him reasons to fall for you. This was foreign territory that he was clearly terrible at navigating right now. He’d really fucked up here and he could only hope there was a way to fix this.

“I believe his reaction has more to do with the immediate danger she placed herself in over the disobeying of the order.” Tech hypothesised.

“No shit.” Crosshair said with a roll of his eyes.

Hunter glanced between his brothers who all had variations of the same expression that gave the impression that they knew something he didn’t. “What are you talking about?” He asked, his voice wary because, aside from today, he thought he’d been good about acting completely normal towards you since Devaron but the looks he was receiving suddenly made him think otherwise. The caution was also because he knew Tech was correct- the idea of you being caught in a collapsing building with no way out had made him more frightened than he cared for and that was what had been driving him when he’d spoken to you in that way.

“You feel a different kind of affection for her that surpasses the usual friend or familial kind.” Tech explained but with a lilt to his voice that suggested he didn’t understand why his brother had even asked the question.

“I- no, I don’t.” Hunter barely managed to sound convincing.

“Please,” Crosshair said with a dismissive snicker, “We all see it.”

“There’s nothing to see.” Hunter insisted, doing his best to keep the frantic edge to his voice at bay. This was the last conversation he wanted to be having.

“It’s okay if you do-”

“I don’t.” Hunter interrupted Echo through gritted teeth. He couldn’t allow their words to give him any sense of false hope. You didn’t think of him in any way other than a friend and right now, probably not even that. He couldn’t afford to get distracted by hypotheticals that he knew would go unanswered or give him the answers he didn’t want. There was a war going, that was the priority, whatever feelings he could feel growing for you could and should be ignored.

“But she also does. We’ve noticed-” Wrecker started to say.

“I’m not listening to this.” Hunter said defensively before he turned his back to head back to the ship and to signal the end of the conversation. He may have disagreed with the core substance of what they were saying but he knew they were right about how he’d unfairly reacted to you and that was something he needed to rectify.

“Can I come in?” Hunter asked cautiously from the doorway to the cockpit.

“It’s your ship, you’ve earned the right to go wherever you want. I’m just a visitor.” You said coldly without glancing up to look at him as you continued to sharpen your weapon.

Hunter winced at your tone, and he took a deep breath as he sat across from you. “I’m sorry. I really am. I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

“I never would’ve carelessly risked Wrecker’s life, Hunter. You have to know me better than that by now.” You put your weapon into the strap on your back as you finally looked at him.

Hunter ran a hand down his face in complete shame over how poorly he’d acted. “I know that. I didn’t mean- I was just-”

“I know I’m not one of you so if you want me to leave-”

“No, no I definitely don’t.” Hunter admitted hastily because the thought of that was a bit too unbearable.

You tilted your head in exasperated confusion. “Then why did you say-”

“I was scared, okay.” Hunter interrupted through an abrupt breath.

Any argument or fight evaporated your body as you heard him say those words and while part of you wondered if the deeper fear you sensed from him was rooted in anything more than the concern he showed as a good leader, the other part of you knew those words wouldn’t have been easy to say. “Hunter…”

“You never told me what your plan was.” Hunter pointed out gently, “You just turned off your comm and left it at that. I had no idea what you were doing or how you were getting out of there. All I knew was that building was getting swarmed by droids and there were charges that could go off any minute and that you and my brother were trapped inside.”

You reached across and squeezed his hand before you could stop yourself. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even think,” You apologised, utterly mortified by your carelessness, “I guess I’d been on my own for so long, I’d forgotten what being part of a squad means.”

Hunter nodded his acceptance of your apology before he said, “Well, you have one now and we have to tell each other things- especially when those things involve risk. So, when you didn’t, I was left thinking of all the worst-case scenarios.” Hunter felt himself growing more awkward as he said next, “And- I- I like having you around and out there it really did feel like for a moment that wasn’t going to happen anymore.” He took a moment to gather himself before he carried on more professionally, “But regardless, my reaction wasn’t fair. You’re a part of this squad, I shouldn’t have implied anything different.”

“Yeah, that stunt made it official! You won’t be rid of us that easily!”

You half turned to smile at Wrecker and that was when you noticed the faces of the others who all had a mix of proud and impressed expressions on their faces. “Glad to hear it.” You said with a smile but that was more to mask your rising guilt. The idea of being was one of them was something that you really did want but you were living a lie. Until they knew they true you, how could they fully accept you? You pushed that to the side for now. There would be an appropriate time to tell them, there had to be. “So, how about if I’m going to disobey an order, we agree that I tell you what I’m doing instead? That way we can avoid any and all worries?” You said light-heartedly instead.

“Sounds good.” Hunter agreed with a quiet chuckle as he looked at you.

Your gaze locked with his and for a moment, you found yourself getting lost in the warmth of his dark brown eyes.

A pointed cough from someone- probably Crosshair- reminded you both that they were all still here.

You both swiftly looked away from each other at the same time.

“Wrecker, you okay if I grab the shower first? As great as that was, I don’t know how much longer I can stand the smell.” Plus, internally you knew it had to be bothering Hunter in some way, and you didn’t want that at all.

Wrecker nodded.

“I was trying so hard not to say anything…” Hunter teased.

You scowled playfully and lightly punched his shoulder. “Don’t forget, this is the stench of success.” You said with a warm smile in his direction before you hopped up and left the cockpit.

Hunter watched you go and shook his head to remove the hopeful thoughts that entered his brain before he followed you down to tidy his stuff away.

“We’re all in agreement, right?” Echo said in a hushed tone from the cockpit as he watched the two of you dance around each other in the tight space.

“Definitely.” Wrecker concurred enthusiastically.

“Yes. I’m already tired of watching this,” Crosshair said grouchily, “For a while it was funny but now it’s just fucking annoying. He could certainly do a lot worse. And if she wants him, then that’s her problem.”

“Supportive.” Echo remarked sarcastically.

Crosshair shrugged, “I’m on board, aren’t I?”

Echo conceded the point with a dip of his head, and it was only because he knew Crosshair well that he could tell that he did have a vested interest in both you and Hunter’s wellbeing. “Tech?” He asked as he realised that he was the only one who hadn’t spoken yet.

“Hmm?” Tech asked distantly as he focused on uploading the latest recordings and report on his datapad.

Crosshair shoved his datapad down and simply pointed.

“Oh, yes. That. I thought it was so obvious we didn’t even need to comment on it.” Tech stated frankly as he looked ahead to you both.

“Well, how are we going to show them it’s obvious?” Wrecker asked.

“I have a long list of ideas.” Crosshair said with a scheming smirk.

“Any of them not based around the idea of deliberately putting either of them in immediate danger?”

Crosshair gave Echo a hard stare- he thought the danger route was obviously the most effective one, but he relented. He huffed out a short breath. “I’ve got a couple of ideas.” He corrected himself reluctantly.

Echo shook his head and ran a hand down his face, “I’m sure we can think of some together.”

“When do we start?” Wrecker asked excitedly.

“No time like the present.” Tech suggested as he nodded down the hallway.

The four of them shared in an exasperated group sigh as they stared at the scene ahead of them. You had come out of the refresher clearly having forgotten to grab something. You were still dressed, the only thing missing was your hooded layer, so you were simply in your tank top, but their brother’s reaction upon seeing you in minimally less clothing was anything but subtle.

You two may have been in denial about what was going on with your feelings, but it was clear as day to the rest of them and they weren’t going to stop until you and Hunter finally admitted it to yourself and to each other.

Next Prequel Oneshot (to be posted)>

Tagging: @andreaaxy, @noeasyisnoisy, @arctrooper69, @moonychicky, @notgonnaedit, @dreamsight73, @dizzy-9906, @thegreymarveljedi, @nightmonkeysstuff, @allthingsimagines, @jellybeanstacey0519, @callsign-denmark, @superbookishhufflepuff, @qvnthesia, @justsomerandompersonintheworld, @ooostarwarsfandom501st, @youreababboon, @livin-life-to-the-coolest

#the bad batch #the bad batch S1 #the bad batch season 1 #the bad batch season 1 prequel #hunter x reader #hunter x femalejedi!reader #hunter x female!reader #hunter x fem!reader #sergeant hunter #sergeant hunter x reader #hunter tbb #hunter the bad batch #the bad batch x you #hunter x y/n #tbb hunter x reader #star wars #friends to lovers #fanfiction

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raplinesmoon · 2 years ago

Text

원샷! (One-shot!) - MYG x F!Reader

series masterlist

pairing: Doctor!Yoongi x Doctor!Reader genre(s): crack, fluff, brief smut au(s): medical AU, idiots-to-lovers (not quite yet) word count: 3.1k warnings: cynical Yoongi, hospital talk, artificial insemination and pregnancy, sperm for insemnation switched without readers’ knowledge/consent, Yoongi has no filter, 20,000 different ways to say sperm, unhinged behaviour from OC and Yoongi, probably HIPAA non-compliance, intoxication, marijuana use, an almost-kiss, did I mention they're idiots (affectionate), mentions divorce (OC's parents), bi-panic from Yoongi, implied masturbation (m) rating: 18+

summary: Yoongi's friendship with you is the one bright spot in his life. So when you tell him you're ready to have a baby, he thinks this will finally be his shot to take your friendship to the next level. Cue a few shots of soju, and one insemination party, and Yoongi suddenly has a huge problem on his hands.

a/n: Old rom-coms (aka pre-2012) are the best. I was rewatching The Switch the other day and felt a burst of inspo to write this cute little au! This will probably be a oneshot (get it?) for now, but never say never! I hope you enjoy!

disclaimer: I do not own, or have any affiliation with BTS. Any similarity between the version of the idol(s) mentioned and portrayed here and their real life counterparts is purely coincidental, and does not represent the thoughts and opinions of said idol(s). Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. This specific fic is based on the 2010 movie The Switch, which contains sensitive themes relating to accidental artificial insemnation, consent, and pregnancy. Please do your research before engaging with this fic, as these themes may not be for everyone.

In his somewhat short career of practicing medicine, Yoongi had become an expert people-watcher, you could say. For instance, he’d been privy to the same morning commute as hundreds of other strangers in the city for the past five or so years. In fact, he was so used to seeing their faces that they didn’t seem like strangers at all. There was the old man who rode in the same car he did, always clutching what seemed to be a bouquet of flowers or a baked good. Maybe it was for his wife. Or his mistress.

Yoongi puckers his lips sourly at the unsavory thought, shuddering at how cynical he’d become. Instead, he turns his attention to the girl sitting in the corner. She had to be in middle school, he thought. Only middle school could put that despondent look on the face of someone so young. Maybe she’d been jilted by a crush. Or more likely, she’d gotten a B on her math test and was about to walk into a lecture from her parents the moment she came home from school today. Yoongi knew the feeling all too well.

You see, it was Yoongi's job to be in the business of people. Being a doctor meant that he dealt with people all day long. They flitted in and out of his life like the flies that buzzed past his ears every time he entered the subway. And he always surprised himself with how much he could learn about them in a single meeting, or before they even walked into the room.

Which is why nothing could have prepared him for what awaited him when he walked into the hospital cafeteria that morning. Sweat streamed down his back in rivulets from the summer heat, drenching his scrubs. And yet, he still insisted on grabbing a piping cup of black coffee from the drinks counter.

“It keeps me awake for longer,” he grumbled when the man at the checkout counter shot him a quizzical look.

His eyes scan the crowded array of chairs and tables outside the café, looking for the one person who could perk up the start to another grueling work day, even more than his cup of coffee was capable of.

You wave to him enthusiastically from the crowd, bouncing up and down like a child waiting for a lollipop. It was probably from all the kids you hung around with all day. Peds was no joke, and Yoongi admired your ability to keep a bright, starry-eyed attitude when his own stomach turned at the thought of sick children.

“Please don’t tell me you saw another man with flowers who might be cheating on his wife,” you raise an eyebrow at the scowl on his face as he approaches the table. “Either that or today’s the day you finally regret not getting an iced coffee.”

Running a hand through his hair, he sighs, annoyed yet also mildly amused by your teasing.

“I told you, it–”

“It keeps you awake for longer, I know, I know,” you beam at him.

“It’s actually neither of those things,” he groans. “Today it was the old lady in the elevator who asked me what year of high school I was in.”

“That’s what you get for having a stupidly perfect face,” you quip, waving your fork at him. “You know Seungkwan from Derm would freak if he knew you only washed your face with bar soap?!”

Although you chuckle at your own joke, Yoongi can’t help the way his heart twists at your words, resisting the heat that rises to his cheeks when you compliment his face. But before he can think about it too long, he falters, noticing that your attention is buried deep within your pile of scrambled eggs, and you’re unable to look him in the eyes.

“You know, Seungkwan from Derm would also tell you that frowning causes premature wrinkles, ___,” Yoongi responds, and you lift your head up, eyebrows furrowed in worry. His hand twitches, and he fights the urge to reach out and squeeze your hand to reassure you everything will be alright.

You finally reach into your bag, pulling out a piece of paper.

“Look at these labs,” you push the paper towards him. “What do they say to you?”

Yoongi stares intently at the paper, trying to piece together this patient’s story, despite you failing to provide any helpful demographic information.

“Iron count, a full blood panel, HcG, any infectious diseases, genetic markers—” Yoongi pauses when he realizes. “You’ve got a pregnant kid on your hands?”

The paper is snatched from his hands before he can finish, your face redder than a tomato.

“No silly, it’s not a kid. I-it’s me. Those are my levels. Do you think they look okay?”

Yoongi can’t prevent his jaw from dropping wide open. He’s sure he must look like an idiot, staring blankly while you blink your eyes, waiting for him to respond.

“You’re having a baby?” he chokes out. The sick, twisty feeling in his stomach has returned, only this time it's a thousand times worse.

“Not yet. But I’m trying,” you admit sheepishly, avoiding eye contact.

“So what, you want me to have sex with you?” Yoongi blurts out before he can stop himself, and he immediately sees you freeze. Sometimes he really hated that he had no filter when it came to his thoughts. That, combined with the fact that he’d had a crush on you since you nearly knocked him over with your Heelies during his first week of work, and Yoongi had found himself in a sticky situation more often than not.

“No!” you immediately blurt out, growing more flustered when Yoongi frowns. “Not that, I mean–, that’s totally beside the point, completely irrelevant to my clinical question, I, I– I’m using a sperm donor okay!”

For the second time in a matter of minutes, you’ve rendered Yoongi completely speechless.

“Is this about Kihyun?” he finally asks. “Or Doyoung? You know, I know you haven’t had the best track record with relationships in the past, but jumping into having a baby with a random guy is definitely not the solution!”

“It’s not about them!” you sputter, unable to stop your voice from rising. “It’s about me, okay! My choice to be an independent woman, raising a child, who doesn’t need a man to help her at all! I get paid well, I have all the resources I could dream of, a strong support system. My life is in session!”

Yoongi has to bite back at chuckle at you quoting one of the various hospital brochures that decorated every reception desk and spare table.

“So are you gonna help me find some jizz, or not?!” you finish, only to look around and realize nearly a dozen pairs of eyes are on you. Perhaps you’d said that last part a little too loudly.

“I-, I gotta go,” you whisper, slinging your bag over your shoulder and running as fast as you can out of the cafeteria, leaving a wistful Yoongi to ponder over the fact that you hadn’t even bothered to finish your breakfast.

You might have thought that breakfast was the end of your baby-making discussion, but judging by the way Yoongi cornered you immediately during the mid-afternoon patient lull, it seemed he hadn't.

“So you’re looking for, uh, semen,” he says, mortified when the charge nurse on your floor whips her head around to glare at him. He pulls you into an alcove by the windows, immediately realizing what a wrong move that was when he can smell the strawberry shampoo you’d used this morning, or count each one of your long eyelashes.

“What’s wrong with mine?” he asks innocently, before realizing he’d messed up yet again. The uncomfortable look on your face tells him as much.

“Listen, Yoongi, I’m sure you have great sperm, killer sperm even. Not in a murder-y way, you know, but like in a Darwinian kinda way. But we’re best friends, wouldn’t that be weird?”

“We don’t have to have sex, you know. I could just nut in a cup and hand it to you. I mean we’ve literally cleaned vomit off each other, how weird could this be?”

A strangled giggle erupts from your throat, and you’re bouncing on the balls of your feet. Yoongi knows you well enough to know your untapped anxiety is preventing you from saying what you really want.

“Okay, spit it out ___.”

“Well, no offense, Yoongi, but you’re kind of neurotic. And not to mention a little pessimistic, maybe even nihilistic…”

“Damn, ___. You could have just said you didn’t want my swimmers. No need to hit a man where it hurts.”

You smile, fondly recalling the time you two played for the hospital basketball team, only for Yoongi to suspend you when your pass had gone awry and smacked him straight in the balls.

“Oh please, you recovered just fine. And we still won the championship that year against the nurses.”

The smile Yoongi forces out of him is no match for the way his heart is breaking underneath. But he looks at you, eyes sparkling and so excited about the prospect of having a baby, and immediately sets his own feelings aside. He could do this. He was your best friend, and as your best friend, your happiness was his number one priority.

“Okay, I’ll help.”

“Thank you thank you thank you!” you crush him in a too-tight hug, his arms wrapping around you stiffly, before melting into it. Normally he would have pushed anyone else off by now, but you’d always been his exception to every rule he’d ever set for himself.

“So, what do you think about Hoseok from Finance?”

Yoongi freezes at the mention of the happy-go-lucky man with the heart-shaped smile and how he could immediately charm the pants off of anyone within his vicinity.

“Absolutely not,” he grumbles, walking away.

“Oh come on, why not? He has great fashion sense, can pull off any hair color, the nurses say he can dance well… Yoongi, YOONGI!”

After a tumultuous few months, which involved a rather precarious incident in which Yoongi had nearly gotten fired when he locked Taehyung, a cardiology fellow, in the bathroom after he’d gotten a bit too handsy with you at a party, Yoongi opens his apartment door one Saturday morning to find a comically large pink envelope on the outside.

The dozens of sperm-shaped balloons that fall out of the card have him jolting in surprise, and he looks up to find his across-the-hall neighbours, a mom and her daughter, staring at him dumbfoundedly, before swiftly slamming their door shut in his face.

I’m Getting Pregnant… And You’re Invited, the garish pink letters on the invitation read, and Yoongi wants to tell the stupid card to go shove all the balloons up its ass when he realizes in horror that you’d finally decided on someone. Without him.

Standing in the hallway with the huge mess around him, Yoongi wonders how despite changing people’s lives every day, he’d always managed to fall behind when it came to his own.

. . .

The obnoxious EDM bumping in your apartment is enough to make Yoongi’s ears bleed. Tugging at his hoodie, his eyes scan the crowd of people, recognizing more than a few people from the hospital. Frowning, he tries to run each one of them through his mind, wondering if you’d gone with Hoseok from Finance after all.

“Dr. Min!” Yoongi nearly chokes on his drink when Jimin from HR comes up to him, landing him a good-natured slap on the back. “You made it!”

“What the hell are you doing here, Jimin?” Yoongi deadpans. “Shouldn’t you be reporting this shit? I thought all this was supposed to be protected under HIPAA!”

“We’re all HIPAA-compliant here, Yoongi, except you,” Jimin chortles, before smirking at him. “Don’t think I don’t know that you’re the only one in your department who hasn’t submitted their training modules yet.”

“I-, I’ve been busy! You know, actually taking care of patients and stuff.” Yoongi knows Jimin is joking, but somehow still feels the need to defend himself.

“I’m sensing some negative energy from you, Yoongi,” Jimin drawls, and Yoongi is sure he has to be drunk, waving what looks like a turkey baster in his face. “This is ___’s moment! We should all be happy for her!”

“Oh I’m sooo happy,” Yoongi grumbles, disappearing into the crowd to look for you.

“Dr. Min!” another voice calls out to him. “Wanna take a hit?”

Yoongi turns to see Jungkook, one of the medical students rotating in his unit, offering him a lit joint.

“Put that damn thing away, Jeon!” Yoongi scolds him, before backtracking. “On second thought, gimme that.”

All Jungkook can do is blink in surprise when Yoongi takes a drag of the joint, immediately feeling his irate energy subside just a tiny bit. Still, he was antsy. Where were you?

Yoongi takes another few hits, downs a few shots of soju and he’s overcome with the munchies. Reaching for the hummus and pita chips, he groans when the dip plops down, staining his pristine white hoodie.

“Here, let me help you with that,” another disembodied voice calls out to him. Yoongi looks up at the sound, and is immediately taken aback.

Yoongi’s sure he’d never seen this dude at the hospital before. He was like, freakishly pretty. Tall, with dark hair and broad shoulders, and pink lips. He blinks, trying not to panic at the attractive man swiping the stain off his shirt.

“Yoongi!” you appear out of nowhere, wrapping him in another crushing hug. “I see you’ve met Seokjin.”

“I’m the donor,” the man called Seokjin reaches a hand out for him to shake, offering a blinding smile.

Fuck. Of course this stupidly attractive man was your sperm donor. Of course you’d want to have his baby. He was literally perfect. You probably had a crush on him. Hell, Yoongi kind of had a crush on him.

“I’m gonna grab another drink,” you drunkenly lean on Yoongi for support. “You two have fun talking though!”

“___’s great,” Seokjin grins. “Super nice. Pretty hot too.”

“Why are you doing this?” Yoongi interjects bluntly. “I mean no offense, a guy like you, you could probably have anyone.”

“Ahh yeah,” Seokjin ruffles his hair, and Yoongi grits his teeth at how he still manages to look perfect doing that. “Money’s tight these days. A PhD in astrophysics at Harvard doesn’t exactly come cheap.”

Before Yoongi can make another smart comment, Seokjin is whisked away by Jimin and Hoseok from finance, the men slapping him on the back, hollering that it’s time to do the deed. He sees you disappear into your own room nervously, and can’t help himself from following you.

“Everything okay, ___?”

“NO!” you’re nearly bouncing off the walls. And there’s no kids to entertain in sight. “I’m freaking out!”

Yoongi’s next to you in seconds, taking you in his arms and letting your head lean against his shoulder. He’d discovered how much it calmed you down after one drunken night out where you’d basically recalled your childhood trauma from your parents’ divorce.

“Do you think I’m crazy, Yoongi? I want this so bad, but maybe this is the wrong way to go about it.”

“I think you want a family, ___. There’s nothing wrong with that. And I’ll be here every step of the way. Uncle Yoongi to the rescue.”

You giggle at his words, a dazed look in his eyes.

“You do act like a total dad.”

There’s a brief pause, silence falling in between you two. Your eyes peer into Yoongi’s and for a moment, he could swear you lean in, the shiny pink gloss on your lips sparkling in the dim light—-

Only to be interrupted by Jungkook bursting into the room, grabbing your hand and telling you its finally time.

One shot, Yoongi had promised himself. Only now he’s ten shots of soju deep and hiding in the fucking bathroom while the party rages on outside. The colors on the wall blend into each other, and Yoongi’s head throbs trying to figure out what he’s looking at. He smiles to himself when he sees its your meticulous pregnancy planning chart, filled with labs and calendars and lists of medications.

Lifting himself up off the floor, he stumbles, bracing himself against the toilet. He was about to hurl. In his stupor he hears something clatter, off to the side.

“Is someone in there?” the nervous voice of Kim Namjoon, one of the hospital’s talented surgeons, calls out from the other end. “I have to pee!”

Namjoon’s voice breaks Yoongi out of his daze, and he looks at the object lying on the floor.

Cum. A whole bucket’s worth of it, it looked like. The creamy white substance now lies swirling in your toilet bowl, and he feels his heart drop to his ass when he realizes it’s Seokjin’s. Oh fuck! It was Seokjin’s sample. Aka the sample you were supposed to shoot up in mere moments, to have the baby you’d been dreaming of for so long.

Yoongi tugs at his hair, wanting to scream at himself for ruining your plans, all because of his own stupidity. You’d be so mad at him. You’d probably yell at him in front of the entire hospital, hands on your hips, and your face would go all red.

He’s horrified when his dick twitches to life at the image of you cursing him out. How was it his fault that you were so hot and he was idiotically attracted to you?

A lightbulb goes off in his head, and Yoongi looks down again, caught in a face-off with Min. Jr. This was a very big problem with a very simple solution.

The pounding in his head continues as Yoongi drops his pants, getting right to work.

. . .

Thankfully, Yoongi doesn’t remember much about the night of your party. He thinks it’s a blessing, at least until you pounce on him in the hospital cafeteria a couple of weeks later.

Something about you is different, he thinks. You’d always been pretty but now you’re stunning, practically glowing from the inside out. He wonders if it has anything to do with stupidly handsome Seokjin when you tap him on the shoulder.

“It worked!” you blurt out, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m pregnant!”

Suddenly, it all comes back to Yoongi. His jealousy over Seokjin, the two of you nearly kissing in your room, the cup spilling into the toilet, the way Yoongi came with your name on his lips.

Shit.

A/N pt. 2: Thanks for reading! As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

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artemismoorea03 · 2 years ago

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DP x DC Prompt: Then Only For A Minute

Bruce Wayne was a thief.

At least that's what Vlad convinces himself.

He stole Daniel away from him and brainwashed him into staying in Gotham City instead of going to Vlad! It was the only explanation on why Daniel would choose a stranger over somebody he knew. Somebody who understood his pain and his woes! Who knew what it was like to be hurt by Maddie and that idiot Jack.

But when he manages to weasel his way into one of Bruce Wayne's fundraisers suddenly he feels as though he missed something.

Something big.

When Vlad had first met Daniel he had smiled at him with trusting eyes and respect but when Bruce Wayne called for Danny and he walked over and looked up at the man there was a look the two shared.

Love.

Bruce Wayne hadn't brainwashed Danny. He had loved him.

Loved him like the son Vlad had been so desperate to have. Loved him in a way that Vlad... wasn't sure he was capable of. Not after so many years alone and not with the intentions he had that night.

He had full intentions on going into the party, managing to catch Danny off guard and convince him to go with him - with violence if he had to. But as he saw Bruce talk to Danny and heard Danny laugh those plans melted with every bit of his determination

He had miscalculated somewhere.

Suddenly feeling much too small in a room much too big and crowded he rushed out, hearing complaints from people that he rushed past as he made his way out of the building and went outside. Sucking in a breath.

Vlad was being ridiculous. He knew he was. He could have Daniel if he went back in and just played his hand.

"Vlad? What the hell are you doing here?" Daniel's voice was hostile and suspicious. Vlad turned and faced him, looking at the teen.

He hadn't gotten any bulkier, not that he was surprised. Ghosts struggled to build muscles but something had changed. Daniel's eyes specifically. They weren't dark or bloodshot from lack of sleep. He was fully rested, his cheeks slightly tinted red from sunburns suggesting he'd been out in the sun frequently rather than sleeping as much as possible in preparation of the next fight.

Vlad looked at Daniel then at the not so subtle people standing near the door. His 'siblings' if he had to guess, ready to protect the newest Wayne. "You and I both know why I'm here Daniel." He said as Daniel tensed up but before he could growl Vlad held up his hand. "Stop... just let me finish."

Daniel, ever the fool relaxed.

But Vlad couldn't convince himself to strike.

"I came to take you back with me, by force if need be but... I see now that was a mistake."

"What?"

"It was a mistake. I... I've changed my mind."

"You... changed your mind? What kind of games are you playing?" Daniel asked tightly.

Vlad shook his head. "No more games, Daniel. I see now I'm wrong as much as that pains me to say. I have been so foolishly convinced that you needed me to find your place in this world, to be happy... but it's clear now I was wrong. So yes... I'm changing my mind. I want to see you smile, but I see now that means I have to leave."

"Just like that... you're... giving up?"

"Yes, Daniel. Just like that. I have much to think about, now, I must go." Vlad turned, then took a step when Daniel called out.

"Wait.... but what about you? Are you gonna be okay?"

"I'm sure I will be, eventually. Goodbye... Danny."

Okay so let's face it I suck at prompts and end up writing mini oneshots. x'D But here it is anyways.

Inspired by the song "Happier" by Marshmello and Bastille

#dp x dc prompt #my prompts #dc x dp prompt

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amber-sekio · 10 months ago

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Oneshot -Perhaps in another life. In another time

Fandom: BSD -Bungo Stray Dogs

Ship: Dazai x Reader

TW: mental health problems, suicide, struggling reader, struggling dazai, character death, reader death, angst, no comfort

A/N: I saw this post and felt compelled to write because mood, I honestly feel the same, so uh, this is for you, @r3stingangel

You had met Dazai at a quant cafe below where he worked. You had found your gaze drawn to him. Something about him stood out.

Familiar.

He had caught you staring at him, but he didn't seem mad. He put on a flirtatious mask and walked over to you confronting you about staring. When he drew closer and looked into your eyes, something changed, his mask cracking.

Like he had realized the same thing you had.

Familiarity.

You began visiting that quant cafe more often, letting yourself relax in the presence of someone who understood you.

You came to learn more about each other with each visit, compelling you to continue going. It let you escape from reality for a little while.

The familiarity turned out to be a shared feeling of hopelessness. A shared feeling of purposelessness. Of inadequacy.

Nihilism.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what was under the bandages covering his neck and arms, perhaps even other parts of his body as well. And while you weren't covered in any bandages, you figured he knew you had your own personal scars as well.

Perhaps the biggest difference between you two was his flawless ability to hide behind well-crafted masks. It was something you faintly recall being capable of doing as a child, but now you were simply too exhausted to bother hiding your apathetic nature.

Dazai didn't seem to mind.

After some time of getting to know each other, he invited you to join him at a bar. A place he said held many memories of a time long gone. A time in which he was happy, even if fleeting.

He told you of his two friends, one turned traitor, the other dead.

You remember that night.

Odasaku was the man's name. He took you to his grave that night.

Though no tears were shed you could feel the melancholy surrounding him like an intoxicating aura. Coiling around the two of you like the fog did, seeping into your skin, your bones.

Currently, you were returning his gesture, bringing him to a place that held your happiest memories.

Fleeting as they were.

Before everything in your already difficult life went to absolute shit.

Bills were scattered on your kitchen table, and copies of a resume were among them.

And yet you were currently leading Dazai to a bridge. A beautiful river surrounded on both sides by flowers of all kinds.

It had been your happy place away from your home life where you hung out with your only friend.

You couldn't remember his name. Faint memories of hair so blonde the sun created a halo on his hair. A smile, innocent and youthful. An angel running through flowers in the middle of spring.

Red. Everywhere.

The platinum blonde hair was stained with a garish color.

A warm breeze, telling of the nearing summer shook you from your thoughts as you and Dazai made it to the bridge.

Even at night was it beautiful.

You looked at the man next to you.

He was no angel, far from it.

But perhaps that was why you got along, for you were no angel yourself.

Your hands would forever be stained in the red that seeped through platinum locks of hair.

"It's beautiful." He spoke softly as if to not disturb the calmness of their surroundings.

You smiled looking from Dazai down to the water, to the moon reflecting across in streaks of white. "It is, isn't it?"

Words were meaningless.

Speaking for the sake of speaking.

"My dear belladonna." His sentence left unfinished.

Belladonna's were a beautiful flower.

Poisonous.

"Would you be willing to end our suffering with me, love?" He finished. Words unneeded.

Lovers.

Something you were not.

Perhaps in another life. In another time.

You took his hand.

Moving to sit on the railing of the bridge with him, you looked up at the moon as it stared down, always watching.

You looked at where your hand was intertwined with his then up at his face.

Soft brown curls framed his face in an almost endearing way. Eyes a beautiful brownish burgundy color.

You smiled, genuinely.

He looked at you.

His lips pulled into a genuine smile. He looked tired.

Perhaps you looked the same.

You both closed what little space was left between you.

The kiss was soft. It would've been sweet if not laced with your shared melancholy.

Without breaking the kiss you both slipped off the railing.

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #dazai bsd #bsd dazai #angst #bsd fanfic #character death #reader death #hurt no comfort #no happy ending #i finished this while listening to Clarity funny enough #ok bye #imma go work on pt 2 of my other fic #bsd x reader

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some-pers0n · 1 year ago

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Hey guys it's late and I've been thinking about that one part of Albatross in the guide a bit. Here's some sloppy writing I just cooked up that's basically the intro monologue to the actual oneshot. Take it.

Another year, another fruitless attempt to find another animus dragon for Lagoon to exploit. Another dragon with a gift that only few are able to possess, where they can make dreams come true and shape reality to how they please, chained and held down by a horrible, terrible dragon.

Albatross had been doing these tests for roughly a decade now. Once a year, young nobles and royals would come together on the shores of the Bay of a Thousand Scales, where they'd start the Talons of Power exam. Well, to call it an "exam" would be giving it far more credit than it deserved. It was more accurate to call it a screaming fest, where a bunch of rowdy dragonets scream and try to make sticks float or sand fly into their fellow peers' eyes.

It was the creation of Lagoon, his sister and Queen of the SeaWings. There was no doubt that she was desperate for a new, more palatable dragon she could use as an animus dragon. A dragon subservient and who would obey her every command. It was pathetic. He would know, he was forced into that role, and by the tides did he despise every second of it.

He paced back and forth along the beach, talons and tail dragging through the sand. This batch of dragonets were giggling amongst themselves, chatting away. They occasionally shot him looks. He could see it. They were judging him. They knew he was different. Strange and unnatural. For all that he's done for Lagoon, the only thing she's returned was mockery and spreading gossip.

Everyone knew about the incident. It was hard to find a dragon who didn't. It had haunted him since the day he made that awful mistake. One impulsive, seemingly innocuous cry of anger and desperation flipped his world upside down. A dragonet who simply wanted to be relieved of the torment of his sisters, now trapped around their talons all of these years later. He could do nothing. He could say nothing. Anything he did out of his own volition was seen as terrifying and unpredictable.

He was treated like an exotic pet by Lagoon. A wild animal that was kept on a short leash, one that would preform tricks and entertain guests when she desired it. Kept in a cage far too small. Yelled at for stepping out of line for even an inch.

What's worse is that he knew what he was capable of. He knew he could snap his talons and everything could go away. Enchant Lagoon out of existence, replacing her with a kinder version of herself. Have him be forgotten by the tribe and allow him to slip out and live a peaceful life of solitude. Something quiet and easy.

But, he was always haunted by ideas. Visions. Thoughts of bloodshed and violence. Where he would achieve some power fantasy. A sense of revenge and taking back what he deserved. Inflicting as much pain as those who wrong him as they've done to him. To go out with a bang. To break away from the chains he was held down by. To let his animalistic lizard brain take hold. He was a dragon. He was created to kill, pillage, and hurt. He was simply given the abilities to do far, far more than what a normal dragon should do.

He hated those thoughts. He hated how he liked to entertain the idea from time to time. He was disgusted. Appalled by how he could think of such things. He was better than that. He was civilized and responsible. He was not a monster. He would not be remembered as a dragon of destruction and harm, no matter how much Lagoon tries to tell him that'll be his legacy.

But, he couldn't be rid of it. He liked it, and that scared him more than anything. He knew how much grief and pain Sapphire had brought him, but he remembered those brief moments. He remembered seeing Sapphire flail. Hearing her screams. She was afraid of him. He felt in control at last. After all this time of being kicked around, he swiped back, and it was exhilarating.

He wouldn't succumb to these thoughts. He promised himself that, no matter what, he will be stronger. He will be better than his base instincts. He will be better than the animus dragons of the past.

He will be remembered as Albatross, the first SeaWing animus. Albatross, the builder of the Summer Palace. Hopefully, and he could only dream of this, but, Albatross, the tragic victim of Queen Lagoon.

Whatever his future may be, he knew he did not want it to be full of more senseless bloodshed. He wanted peace. He wanted to be loved.

#wof #wings of fire #somepersonswriting #albatross wof #I hate Lagoon so much man #SP-writing

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fullscoreshenanigans · 1 year ago

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Hello! It's lonely-cereal. I really adore your blog since I've been obsessed with the promised neverland for over 4 years. And I wanted to tell you an idea I had/hear your thoughts.

So, I'm currently writing a promised neverland x OC. (Canon timeline.) and I came up with line a fanmade demon world plant. It's called muerte. It works the very opposite of the Vida plant. It's related to it. Vida is like it's "evil twin." instead of sucking the life out of it's victims, it can undo the effects of vida If so desired. It only withers if the person who's touched it last is dying or has died. Since "Vida." means life in Spanish, but takes life away, I named the fanmade one muerte since that means "death." in Spanish, even though it can bring life back. I thought it'd be an interesting concept for promised neverland fandictions.

It started when Ray and my OC found it and gave one to each other to make sure the other was always safe before my OCS shipment.

It looks like this.

Anyways I just wanted to hear your thoughts about it since I believe it could be cool for TPN AUS or oneshots.

Heyyo 👋

Going to digress a bit to start off, but one of my reservations with the series can be summed up with these tags from @whamss on this poll regarding the ending:

#nothing serious that happens to any ‘good’ character lasts if they’re younger than 20 lol #again its been a hot ass minute but tpn was at its best when Shirai knew how to raise stakes and make them feel actually serious

With the specification of "good character under twenty whose name the reader is aware of before they die" because during the bunker raid and Andrew's subsequent pursuit, there are six innocent children who are murdered.

(Chapter 111)

Fred's, Malcom's, and Mary's deaths are particularly brutal in that rather than shooting them from a distance, Andrew chose to relish bludgeoning them to death with the butt of his rifle until their faces were unrecognizable.

However, none of them have any significant moments in the narrative prior to dying, and their names aren't revealed until this extra in chapter 119. I distinctly remember feeling Shirai was trying to have his cake and eat it too, running with this to say "see, death is still a real possibility for these kids!" The effect is muted though when I don't know who they are besides "background character whose design I vaguely recognize from earlier chapters" and all ten members of the Goldy Pond Resistance survived their gun battle with the demon nobles.

Reading all that in chapter 85 and then seeing Paula and Sandy alive in chapter 96 was so jarring and kind of a "lol okay I guess" moment for me on my first read. It's not actively wishing for the death or brutalization of children who are already victims of the farm system but wanting to see lasting consequences that have weight to them and seeing how characters cope. Sandy loses an eye, but much like Emma losing her ear, we never see him note his long-term struggles with that loss, such as having a larger blind spot, the anxiety and anger that would understandably result in, or even minor annoyances that when stacked together weigh on him. Compare to Lucas who, while still a very capable character, does reflect on how the loss of his arm impedes him.

Tying that back around to muerte, my initial thought was that it similarly feels like it's cheating the narrative on a surface-level read and it seems to rely more on soft magic than the series typically does. Compare to Mujika's blood that has seemingly magical properties. While we're never given the specific details of how it works, Norman's explanations of demon physiology in chapters 120, 126, and 127 are enough to ground it in the hard science of this series' universe. It provides something their genomes are missing and is potent enough to permanently stabilize them upon introduction to the body through consumption.

But again, this is only a surface-level read and I don't know all the details of your story.

Vida is like it's "evil twin." Instead of sucking the life out of its victims, it can undo the effects of vida if so desired. It only withers if the person who's touched it last is dying or has died.

How does it undo the effects of vida, which draws up a being's blood into its stem and then carries it to its petals that results in its flowers blooming? Does it naturally create chemicals that when introduced into a being's bloodstream don't harm said being but cause a negative reaction in the vida plant, resulting in it shriveling up and dying? What of the stab wound still left by it, which is a major factor in its victim's death due to piercing their heart? Does it provide potent clotting agents to prevent a being from bleeding out after its removal as well as rapid mending to flesh?

I'm also a bit confused by what causes muerte to wither, assuming that it has to touch a being that's in the process of dying in order to counteract the vida and restore life to them. If a being uses it on another being but they're unaware they're dying from a disease like cancer, or adrenaline is pumping and they're unaware of a fatal wound when they go to help someone else, is muerte rendered ineffective?

Another thing to consider and something that could potentially offset the narrative convenience of being able to undo death is how it factors into demon culture. Gupna is a carryover from the original faith. Is muerte seen as unholy and are beings saved/revived by it seen as unnatural in the eyes of the general demon population and/or those who follow the original faith? Would that put a human or demon revived by it in conflict with Sonju? Is it highly regulated by the demon nobility as another means of controlling the demon population, or is it so rare it's believed to be an extinct species of plant? Are beings hindered in some way after being revived or are they fully restored to a clean bill of health? Having power over death in a series where it's treated as a genuine finality would dramatically alter a culture and its relationship with the afterlife.

It started when Ray and my OC found it and gave one to each other to make sure the other was always safe before my OCS shipment.

Since Ray isn't aware of the intricacies of the gupna ceremony prior to the explanation Sonju gives Emma, I'm assuming this is initially a sweet gesture between friends because they thought the flower looked pretty, and it unwittingly ends up saving your OC's life? Cute. |3

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