#x GN reader

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

The rivalry between wb!reader and Tim is basically just “I waited three and a half years, white man did I in one week.” And it’s very funny to me

I LOVE THE DR UMAR REFERENCE BUT IT SO TRUE THOUGH

In the beginning, the reader hated and envied Tim to a sickly amount. The two of you are pretty similar in likes and dislikes and weird interests; it's just that he's popular and you're not. You're actively tweaking. Like, what do you mean he was at the top of his class, did acrobatics, while still being friends with both nerds and jocks? Life is just not fair. You're fuming with jealousy; you want to see him fail so badly. You're looking like the Reverse Flash, praying for his downfall each night. And what makes it even worse is he refuses to admit he's a loser and a weirdo. He collects Transformers in his spare time, and he will never admit you're trying to bond with him over your love of manga and shounen. He just calls Naruto corny like he wasn't a NaruSasu shipper at one point. He'll never admit he's like you, but Tim is also a little jealous of you. He'd rather die than admit it. But how you're so unapologetically yourself is refreshing. You’re so passionate and excited about things; you show off your stacks of Bleach katanas you've collected over the years. You're you, and he's so scared to be him. He's weird, but he'd rather it be surface-level than your weird, even though deep down, his freak cannot be matched.

So, when you come to him yapping about D&D, he doesn't know how to feel. He's been hiding that part of himself for so long; it's scary for it to pop out. So he pretends like he doesn't know or care, when he does, and it's eating away at him like a mouse chewing on drywall. So when he gets obsessed, he's on you like crazy. You think this is a bloody rivalry that will end with somebody dead on the floor bleeding out while the other stands victorious; but in Tim's eyes, he's spending time with his sweet younger sibling who loves shounen manga. The reader is having a mid-life crisis, not being able to make actual friends that aren't surface-level and trying to make people remember their names, while Tim is picking out little Vocaloid keychains, wondering which one you like. You're gatekeeping games from him and niches, but he'll find out easily. You can't even watch Yo-kai Watch with him, reciting the entire wiki. You hate him so much, and he really wants you to like him. He'd cut off all his friends if it meant hanging out with you and being a good big brother.

"Look, [Name], there's a new Invincible comic out; let's read it together!" Who the fuck snitched on you and told him you like Invincible? Can't have shit in this house!

[lazy-ahh]

ALMOST, BUT NOT QUITE

pairing mark grayson x gender neutral reader

childhood best friends aren't supposed to stare at each other's lips. they don't linger in quiet moments, hearts pounding, stealing glances that last a second too long—close enough to cross the line, but too scared to take the leap, scared of ruining the one good thing close to perfection in their lives. mark grayson knows this. you know this. yet here you both are... two idiots who'd rather choke on their words than admit the truth.

you and mark have been best friends for years—through sixth grade, high school, his early days as invincible, and all the chaos that comes with being a teenager stuck in puberty one day and thrown into superpowers the next. you'd call the two of you close, very close actually. perhaps maybe too close?

or at least, that's what it feels like when his hand brushes yours and neither of you pull away. when you're in a crowded room and it's like the world narrows down to just his laugh, just your stupid jokes, just the way he looks at you like you're the only person who matters.

the two of you know each other's schedules by heart. both of you know exactly how to cheer each other up after a particularly rough day. your inside jokes are a language only the two of you speak, and every 'accidental' touch lingers a second too long and leaves the two of you feeling satisfied just for a brief moment yet desperate for more. compliments are mumbled, quiet things—meant only for his ears only, or yours. it's the way he brings you your favourite snack after a tough mission, the way you patch up his wounds without being asked. it's the way this doesn't feel like just a friendship anymore.

meh, might just be overthinking it.

you huff through your nose, chin propped on your palm as you watch mark launch into yet another rant about seance dog—this time at william, who looks like he's two seconds from drowning himself in his chocolate milk. your lips twitch when mark's voice pitches higher, hands waving wildly as he makes some ridiculous point, and poor william, you're honestly impressed that his exasperated expression could become more... exasperated. your amusement drifts away after a moment though, when your eyes trail down to mark's arms.

you try not to stare. really, you do. i think. but it's hard because mark's sleeves are rolled up to his elbows like come kind of cruel joke, and his forearms are doing that thing where the tendons shift under his skin when he gestures. and god, his hands—calloused from hero work, fingers splaying mid-air like he's trying to physically sculpt his terrible arguments. your eyes catch on the rough knuckles, the faint scars from battles, the way his fingers flex—strong, but oddly graceful, like he could crush steel or trace a whisper down your spine with the same hands.

you swallow hard, throat suddenly dry as your brain betrays you with the image of those fingers—rough palms skimming your waist, the heat of them gripping your hips, the way his thumb might—

you blink rapidly, your gaze drags up (slowly, very slowly) over the curve of his biceps, the way his stupid "i bench-press buildings now" shoulders stretch his sweater when he throws his arms out. puberty had already been generous to mark grayson, but superpowers? superpowers were obscene. his waist is still narrow, but his chest is broader, his back tapered in a way that makes your teeth ache when he leans forward across the lunch table. and his thighs—

"hey, you good?" mark suddenly asks, his hand pausing from waving in front of your face.

you jerk upright, your face feeling warmer. "what? yeah, pssh. of course i am, why wouldn't i be?"

he grins, dorky and adorable and oblivious. "you were staring at me like i grew a second head or something."

oh, if only you knew.

william shoots you a knowing look, his lips twisting into a shit-eating grin as something positively devilish glints in his eyes. he leans across the lunch table, elbows knocking into his tray. "ohhh, someone's got it bad," he sing-songs, wiggling his eyebrows. "c'mon, spill - are they hot? because that," he points at your face, "is the look of someone who's thirsty. absolutely dehydrated-"

both you and mark snap your heads toward william in perfect sync - though your expression quickly morphs into pure horror, cheeks burning so hot you could power a small city. mark's reaction is worse - his eyes go wide, his grip tightening around his juice box until it crunches ominously.

"y-you like someone?" mark asks, voice cracking in a way that would be hilarious if it wasn't so devastating. there's something heartbreaking in the way his shoulders slump, like a golden retriever who just got told 'no walk today.'

your brain short-circuits. "no! yes? i mean-" you flail, hands waving wildly like you're trying to physically bat away the conversation. why are you sweating? why does this feel like you're being interrogated for the murder of a family of five? and why, why does mark look at you like you just kicked his favourite action figure into oncoming traffic?

you sigh in defeat, face falling into your hands. "it's complicated..." you messed up. big time. well—okay, you didn’t, but it feels like you did. why are you even panicking? it’s not like mark’s your boyfriend. not like you’re promised to each other or whatever.

you’re one second away from digging yourself a hole and rotting in it forever when you feel a hand settle on your shoulder—warm, solid, mark’s—giving you a gentle squeeze. you peek through your fingers, and there he is: looking at you with those stupidly soft brown eyes, the corners crinkled with quiet concern. his thumb rubs a tiny circle against your collarbone, and god, it’s unfair how easily your body melts under his touch, tension evaporating like he’s got some secret superpower just for calming you down.

"hey, it’s fine." his voice is so soft, so close, you swear you could dissolve into a puddle right here in the cafeteria. "it’s not like i’ll beat you into a pulp if you have a crush." he jokes, pulling his hand away to nudge your shoulder with his knuckles instead. you try not to pout at the loss of warmth.

"yeah, you’re right," you sigh, finally dropping your hands—but not before shooting him a sidelong glance. "sorry for, y’know. emotionally collapsing over nothing."

mark clutches his chest like you’ve stabbed him, lips twitching despite his very serious pout. "it’s not nothing. i can’t believe you’d hide a crush from me. after all we’ve been through?" his voice dips, faux-dramatic. "the trauma. the bonding. my undying loyalty—"

you kick his shin under the table, but your grin ruins the effect. "god, you’re insufferable. fine. our relationship is clearly toxic." you lean in, stage-whispering, "you’re obsessed with me. it’s unhealthy."

"oh, totally," he deadpans, matching your lean until his shoulder bumps yours. "real stalker behavior. i’ll start sending you creepy letters next."

"promise?" you say without thinking—then freeze. shit.

mark’s smirk softens, just for a second. "only if you write me back," he murmurs, so quiet you almost miss it. then he’s straightening up, clearing his throat. "but, uh. yeah. toxic. i’m a monster."

you roll your eyes, propping your chin on your palm again as william gags dramatically, clutching his stomach like the mere idea of feelings is poisoning him. the conversation ironically spirals into william's love life, ending with him scoffing, "hard pass on your advice, grayson. unless ‘eternally single’ is the aesthetic i’m going for."

when the bell rings, the three of you shuffle out of the cafeteria, splitting off down different hallways—mark with a half-wave over his shoulder, william already texting someone (probably to complain about you two). you should be thinking about your next class. about the quiz you didn’t study for.

instead, your traitorous brain replays mark’s voice, low and teasing: only if you write me back.

stupid. it’s stupid how your heart still stutters like you’re some middle-schooler with a crush. how your fingers twitch at your side, phantom-warm where his shoulder had brushed yours.

(≧∇≦)ﾉ☆

the glow of your monitor is the only light in your room when you hear the familiar tap-tap against your window. even before you pull back the curtains, you're already reaching for the first aid kit under your bed—because mark grayson might live next door, but he always comes to you like this, bleeding and beautiful in the moonlight.

"missed the front door again, huh?" you tease as you help him inside, but the joke dies when you see the bruise blooming across his ribs and the way there's that stupidly familiar black eye on his right eye. good thing it's not as bad as the last times. "shit, mark."

"i've had worse," he mumbles, but winces as you press a disinfectant wipe to his side. his skin is warm under your fingers, sticky with sweat and city grime. for a while, it's quiet—just your careful hands, his steady breathing, and the way his eyes track your face like you're the only solid thing in the world.

then, softer: "...sometimes i wonder if i'm even making a difference out there."

your fingers pause. "hey." you tilt his chin up, thumb brushing the cut on his cheekbone. "you saved seven people tonight. i heard it on the scanner."

"and how many did i not save?" his voice cracks, raw in a way that has nothing to do with physical wounds.

you don't have an answer for that. so you just lean your forehead against his, noses almost touching, his breath warm against your lips. "you can't carry the whole world, vincible."

he remembers when you first called him that, years ago, all sarcasm and raised eyebrows ("invincible? really? more like vincible if you keep tripping over your own feet"). now, it’s something else entirely. now, it’s the way your voice dips, tender and knowing, like you’ve carved a home just for him in that single word. vincible. his chest tightens.

the nickname—once teasing, once a joke about his dumb superhero name—comes out so soft now it might as well be darling. sweetheart. mine. mark's pulse stutters at the way your voice wraps around it, at how your thumbs brush his cheekbones like he's something precious. he wonders, distantly, if there's even a difference between vincible and i love you when you say it like that—all fondness and quiet understanding, like the words are just different shapes of the same feeling.

(he knows which one makes his chest ache more. he wonders, desperately, if you can feel how ruined he is for you—if you notice the way his breath hitches when your thumbs brush his cheekbones, if you know he’s memorized the exact weight of your sighs. it’s pathetic, maybe, how easily you unravel him.)

"you’re staring," you murmur, but you don’t pull away.

mark should say something clever. something normal. instead, his traitorous heart whispers: you’re my whole world.

what comes out is: "shut up."

he exhales, shaky, and leans into it—just slightly, just enough to make your heart pound against your ribs. when you pull back, his eyes are dark and searching, lips parted like he's about to say something that'll change everything.

instead, he whispers, "you'd make a terrible motivational speaker, you know that?"

you snort, swatting his arm. "and you'd make a terrible patient. always whining."

"only for you," he says, so casually it aches.

(and god, does he mean it. he’d whine, beg, bleed for your attention if it meant you’d keep looking at him like this—like he’s worth the effort. like he’s yours.)

there it is again—that look. the one where his gaze drops to your mouth for half a second too long, where he wonders if you’d taste like the iced tea you’d been drinking or something sweeter. where your hands, still cradling his face, tremble just a little, and he has to bite his tongue to keep from leaning into them completely and placing a tender kiss on your palm. the air between you is charged, suffocating, alive.

(he wants to ruin this. he wants to have this. he does neither.)

then mark grins, breaking the spell. "maybe i should hire you as my personal doctor."

"with what money?" you laugh, shoving him. "last i checked, 'professional martyr' doesn't pay well."

he clutches his chest in mock offense, but his laughter fades too quickly. and just like that, two hours had passed already, but it felt like only minutes. (time always bends around you—stretching and collapsing like taffy, leaving him dizzy.)

at your window, he hesitates—hand gripping the frame like it’s the only thing keeping him from crawling back to you. shoulders tense, throat tight with all the words he won’t say: stay. ask me to stay. please.

"see you tomorrow?" he finally asks, half-turned toward you like a question.

you swallow the stay on your tongue. "yeah. tomorrow."

(and maybe tomorrow, he’ll be brave. maybe tomorrow, he’ll say it. maybe—)

the moment passes. again.

2k words is crazy i'm not even gonna lie- and if you made it to the end—thank you. no, seriously, you reading this means the world to me. this is my first one-shot in forever, so i’m equal parts nervous and stupidly excited. constructive criticism is appreciated here, i would love to know how to make my one-shots better: more yearning? write banter that feels natural (how do people even talk, lmao) do we need more yearning chat? also, angst might be coming, so watch out for that lol

[suiana]

yandere! loser who works at your local convenience store and tries to rizz you up every time you enter.

"good morning 𝖐𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖓, how are you today?"

"yeah I'll just get the pocky."

"of course 𝖐𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖓."

this is the type of guy to post videos of himself crying on Instagram saying shit like 'why do women have to suffer... (6'1 btw)' just for the chance of popping up on your feed. even if you're not a woman, he thinks it'll impress you.

but it doesn't.

it's fucking cringe.

"𝖐𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖓 do you want discord nitro?"

"bro I don't even use discord."

yeah, you didn't expect that? well you should. of course this loser who works at a 7/11 would be a discord moderator. what were you expecting when he calls you kitten, huh?

he's a desperate little shit, honestly. even if you're on the verge of fucking throwing him onto the road, he'd be trying to impress you.

"can i have one chance please"

"no."

"PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEA"

he's the type of guy to bring you out to see the minecraft movie for a first date and clap at every stupid scene. #realstorybtw bro even gave a standing ovation once.

"wow... this brings tears to my eyes 💔 this movie is a masterpiece ❤️ together we are minecraft ❤️"

"I'm breaking up with you."

[leighsartworks216]

Cliffside Chatter

dragon!Sylus x blind!oracle!Reader

Series Masterlist - Chapter One - Prev Chapter

This is officially the last chapter I have already written out. And with that comes the tentative warning that updating may take longer because it is literally the final 5-6 weeks of college for me and all of my work is breathing down the back of my neck. I'm gonna do my best to stay consistent, though, cuz I just love them sm and really want to keep sharing these little moments between them 🥺

Warnings: talk of kidnapping, migraines

Word Count: 1,628

Main Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

A woman with silver hair. She… removes a sword from someone’s chest? Or does she push it in…? Jewel’s chest… What then? What comes next? It’s all a bit too chaotic. Red and black ash obscure the scene. If you can just make out the shapes then maybe…

“Does it still hurt?”

You’re snapped out of your thoughts. You completely forgot where you were, so distracted with the same prophecy you’ve been seeing every night. “Hm?”

The hard plates of his hand grab yours, pulling it from your neck. “You keep touching your throat.”

“Oh!” You clear your throat, but offer as reassuring of a smile as you can muster. “It’s just a little sore. I’m okay.”

He hums like he doesn’t quite believe you, but releases your hand. Really, it doesn’t hurt as bad as the day before - or even as bad as yesterday. He’d diligently helped replace the bandages and pressed cold cloths to soothe the bruises that formed, but all one could do was let it heal on its own.

You drop your hand to your lap. “Thank you for bringing me out here,” you rasp quietly. You turn your face up to the sky, to the great fire in the heavens that warms your cheeks, sinks under your skin into your bones. “It’s been a while since I’ve felt the sun.”

“That’s my fault,” he says. “I sleep during the day. The light…”

“Hm? What about it?”

He doesn’t speak for a moment, weighing his words. You frown at him. Finally, he mutters, “It hurts my eyes.”

You croak out a laugh. “Is that uncommon for fiends?”

“Perhaps not.”

“You can go inside if it bothers you too much.”

“And risk you falling down the cliff?” He nudges his foot against yours, hanging down over a vast emptiness.

You nudge his foot back. “I’m blind, I’m not stupid.” A comfortable silence blankets over you. You can’t recall the last time you were granted a peaceful quiet like this. In the city, it seemed that everyone wanted to hear your insight at all hours of the day. Their incessant questions, grating on your ears, asking about crop yield and relationships and success. You wonder if the man from days ago was someone you’d given a fortune. You can’t place his voice, not when all you hear is his screams alongside a phantom weight on your throat.

“You’re touching it again.”

You huff, clasping your hands together in your lap. He chuckles. You nod out into the world in front of you. "What does it look like out there?"

He hmphs. His shoulder rises and falls beside you. "The same as it always does."

"And how's that?"

"I'm... not the best person to describe the world to you."

"I'm not asking for you to be the best. And I don't need you to describe it like I'm seeing it for the first time. Just... tell me what you see."

He sighs. You think for a moment he’ll continue to refuse. "Mountains, all around. There are trees, climbing up the sides. A field way out in the distance. The city."

You hum thoughtfully. "Is the market going on today? Is it busy?"

"Yeah. Caravans coming in and out. Banners and flags flying all over. Did you ever go to the market?"

"Not in any official capacity. I was never really allowed to go anywhere." You shoot him a grin, full of mischief. "But I would sneak out, sometimes. I almost got carried away to an alpaca farm once."

He chuckles. "How did you manage that?"

"I was just stumbling through the crowd," you begin. There's a wistfulness to your voice. Longing for a simpler time, while lamenting the isolation of it. "Following the flow of traffic. And I was knocked out of the way, into one of the stalls. The woman that ran it asked if I was alright. When she figured out I was blind, she said I could sit with her in the shade of her booth for a while.

"I sat there for hours. It was... It was like reaching out and touching humanity. She didn't treat me like a delicate flower, or a tool to be used for her own gain. For once in my life, I was just another person.

"Well, turned out she raised alpacas for their wool. She'd shear them, spin it into yarn, and make things with them. All sorts of things - gloves, hats, sweaters, socks. I said I'd never been around an alpaca before. She laughed and said I was sitting right next to one. She took my hand," you hold it out, mimicking the motions, "and guided it over to an alpaca that was laying right beside me that whole time." Your hand falls back into your lap. You clear your throat.

"She said I could ride it, if I wanted. Better yet, I could ride on its back and she could take me back to her farm, introduce me to all of her animals and teach me how to spin yarn like her."

"It sounds like she was trying to kidnap you," he says.

You shake your head. "It wasn't like that. I've... I've never known kidnappers to care whether I trusted them or not. I'm blind - what can I do? It's easier to just take me away without the pretense."

He hums. "So you've been kidnapped before, aside from me?" There's a teasing edge to his voice.

There isn't in yours. "Almost. A few times. People get desperate. They hear that I can tell them their future, tell them what to do, how to be successful, and it goes to their head…

"Anyway, I was riding on the back of the alpaca, just being led in circles while the market was in a lull. One of my caretakers saw me and snatched me away. I had to spend the entire night reciting hymns as punishment."

"They were protecting you."

"They were protecting their assets," you correct him. You gesture behind you where the cave entrance should be. "Imagine someone breaks in and steals your greatest treasure. Even with all that wealth, you can't just let that one thing go. You'd do anything to get it back. And once you have it, you'd do anything to ensure it stays there."

He doesn't deny it. He can't deny it. Already he's killed hundreds of men to protect his hoard, those that come to kill him not included. Of course he'd do just the same thing. He did so recently, just a few days ago. One more body added to the pile to rot in the dark.

"Had you ever been outside the city? Before now, I mean."

You shake your head. "I had no reason to. Have you ever been to the city?”

“I have,” he answers. “I go in brief stints, gathering what I need. Most of your hoard comes from down there.”

You let out a startled laugh and wince. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“I wanted to grab more, but something told me to come back.” His voice takes on a soft, wistful sound. The wind sweeps by. It feels refreshing as it comes down the side of the mountain, cooling your skin from the heat of the sun. You lean toward him slightly. “It was like… a tug, pulling my back here.”

“A tug?”

“Hm. I didn’t understand it, but I trusted my instincts. They’ve kept me alive so far; that must count for something. I flew back up. And I heard you.”

You tilt your head. “What did you hear?”

You feel the weight of his eyes on your face. “I heard you call for me.”

You frown, brows pinching together as you think back to that horrible day. You remember very little of the specifics, truth be told. It’s all a blur of fear and panic. Pain and the certainty that death would claim you. It’s like a feather tickles the back of your brain, urging you to recall more. Jewel pulls your hand from your throat again. He holds it down in your lap.

“It was faint. Barely anything. But I knew it was your voice. That’s how I found you.”

You remember choking. Struggling for air. Darkness… And waking up to Jewel rolling you onto your side so you didn’t continue to choke on blood.

No… There was something else. “I think I was unconscious for a moment…”

He hums. “You didn’t even seem to be alive when I got to you.”

You shudder at the thought and shake your head. “I mean, I think I had another vision of the future.”

“Really? What did you see?”

You strain your mind, stretching it to its furthest to try and draw out any faint detail of the dream. If Astra wanted you to see something, you’d hate to forget and anger him any more than you already have in your time as a Chosen. But all you can make out are glimpses of Jewel’s face. And all you get in turn for it is a migraine.

You wince sharply and wobble where you sit, teetering to the side as you hold your head in your free hand. Jewel grabs onto your arm to steady you, pulling you away from the cliff. You shake your head, but it only worsens the lightheadedness behind your eyes. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t push it.” The dirt shifts under him as he shifts to get up. An arm wraps around your waist to keep you from sliding forward, and lifts you carefully to your feet. He turns you around and walks you back inside. Shadows slide over your body, blanketing over the lingering heat clinging to your skin. “I’ve had enough of the sun.”

---

Tag List:

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[rabotimagines]

*drags myself into your inbox like a dying fish* please, if you have any crumbs of Skywarp I will explode in joy. Anything with him going feral or being feral for his hot cybertronian conjunx, anything, he’s stupid and that’s how I like ‘em

Y'all are soooooo lucky I'm a huge pervert.

"Bully" GN BOT Reader x Skywarp

Summary: Autobot Reader sexually bullies Skywarp a bit while choking him out with their thighs.

Genre/Theme: Smut scenario 🔞

Warnings: MDNI, you choke Skywarp out with your thighs. So mild breath play on Skywarp, dirty talk, making Skywarp overload for you.

Pronouns: You, Your, Yours

Notes: This is with playful flirty Autobot reader that all the Cons are horny about, Readers servos are bound almost the entire encounter. (Reader has the control in this situation, though), Skywarp gets even dumber when he's being praised (Dangerous I know.)

Skywarp was excited- he was so fragging excited! They actually caught you! All they needed to do was get a hold of that roughed up microscope and threaten him a bit. Then you'd offered yourself up as a captive if Skywarp let him leave alive. So, of course, he tossed the scope, and you'd surrendered to Thundercracker just like that.

They'd yoinked the human thing that Megatron wanted them to grab, the energon cubes, and most importantly, you before leaving. Now, they were hunkered down at one of the power plant things they'd destroyed earlier the week, waiting for Megatron and the others. Rumble told Soundwave they'd gotten you, and Soundwave told Megatron- and yeah, Skywarp got it! Just- Skywarp really wants some time with ya himself! Y'know! He's been trying to get some time with you for fragging actual earth months!

And Thundercrackers not letting Skywarp do anything with you! It's not fair! What does it matter if Megatron would notice- Okay, maybe it does matter a little tiny tiny bit. But! Skywarp wouldn't ruin you or nothing! He could totally just warm ya up for Megatron. Yeah! Totally! Even Rumble agreed with Thundercracker that they'd totally get slagged if they did anything with ya before Megatron- and whatever! Skywarp went off muttering curses and destroyed a wall.

Skywarp was on duty to watch you while Rumble and Thundercracker kept a look out for the Autodorks. And Thundercracker only left after telling him a final time not to do anything with ya. Skywarp wouldn't. He hated it, but he was loyal to Megatron first. (As much as it fragging annoyed the slag outta him right now.) So he's glaring at the wall, totally making sure not to look at your frame. They'd bound your servos above your helm and against a pillar with some lying around scrap so ya wouldn't run. And you were sitting with your thighs spread out.

Modesty panel right on display for Skywarp to gawk at.

"Enjoying the view?" Skywarp cycled his optics at your question. He looked up from where he'd started staring again and met your gaze. You narrowed your optics and smiled at Skywarp- just like how you smiled at him on the battlefield. And both Skywarp's engines want to rev.

"Yeah, I fragging am. Might as well cause Megatrons coming, and I'm not gonna enjoy you for a while." Skywarp admitted fully turning to openly stare between your spread legs.

"Oh? ...Don't feel like a battlefield quickie?" Skywarp's optics snap wide, and he stares up at your faceplate. And your smile just widens. "Oh C'mon, why don't you-" You spread your thighs further apart. "Get a taste, at least?" When he actually realizes what you said, Skywarp's engines do rev this time.

... Skywarp couldn't get in trouble if he didn't spike or get spiked, right?

"Don't wanna sample even?" You tilted your hips a touch, and Skywarp decided he totally couldn't get punished if he just tasted you. It was just his glossia and mouth, after all. Yeah. It's totally reasonable. He wouldn't even need to find your manual release! You were offering it!

Skywarp warps over enjoying how your optics widen when he was suddenly much closer and on his knees in front of you. His servos grab your legs, and he's shoving his helm between your thighs. "Wanna taste." He admits easily, and he waits for you to get with the programming and pop your panel- and your smile curls further and your optics brighten a touch. And Skywarp can feel himself getting hot and bothered over you already-

And you snapped your thighs closed around his neck and trapped his faceplate right against your modesty panel.

Skywarp grunts when your thighs tighten down on him enough that his vents don't come out as smooth as they definitely should. His servos latch back onto the sides of your thighs when you talk again. "Great! Start tasting my modesty panel, then Skywarp." You physically grind against Skywarps faceplate, and Skywarp's spike jumps to attention behind his own panel.

This was not what he thought you meant-! You huffed a laugh, and a sexy moan comes out of you- And Skywarp suddenly thinks he's alright with this too! Skywarp opens his mouth and laps his glossia against your modesty panel. And yeah, tastes like armor- but the fact that it's your modesty panel has him grabbing your thighs tighter. Skywarp shifts his helm with the tiny bit of give you'd given him when he started tasting you to run his glossia along the edge of where your panel met your inner thigh. His glossia barely reaching the sensitive inner part, and you rock against his faceplate again.

Skywarp's wings twitch when you groan because of him.

Skywarp's own panel pulls back, and you perk up at the sound. "Oh- getting hot already from just the little taste?" You chuckled, staring down at where Skywarp was trapped between your thighs. You squeezed back down on his helm and neck, and you actually rocked his helm side to side gently. "What? You like me telling you what to do? Oh babe, I can tell you to do a bit more than that." Skywarp huffed against your panel, his vent coming out a bit strained. His own helm feeling foggy the longer you'd kept your thighs locked around him. You stopped rocking him when you start talking again. "Frot your spike against the ground for me."

Huh-!? Like he was- what? A desperate cyberhound or somethin'?!

"Oh, you can do it- don't you wanna be good for me?" Your em field started dragging down Skywarp's helm along with the question. Field dipping across his helm and caressing him. And Skywarp finds he really does wanna be good for you. He does. He- he can do that.

Skywarp lets his hips sink a bit till his hard spike finally drags against the ground. Skywarp grunts at the rougher stimulation. Not all that sure he'd keep up with the idea- "Good boy!" You coo when Skywarp does it. And basically any thought of him not keeping up with what you say goes flying right out his helm. You loosened your thighs a little, and his next vent is now a full one. And his helm feels like it's steaming on the inside. "Keep going- that's it, Skywarp." You urged him so sweet- So Skywarp keeps rutting his hips against the power plant floor.

You start slowly rocking your hips against his faceplate, and Skywarp's glossia finds the notches of your modesty panel, and he starts tracing it. Skywarp's wings twitch when your em field trails down his back and- Frag. Skywarp moaned against your panel when your field starts outlining along the shape of his wings- his plating winds tighter and tighter every soft rock against you and the floor.

"Wish my panel was pulled back? Wish I was pressing my valve into your faceplate instead?" Your tone is light, but it's smug- like you know the answer already - But maybe ya didn't actually? Frag, his processor was slowing down right now.

He should let you know, right? Yeah-! You need to know how badly he wants ya.

"Ye-!" Your thighs tightening hard, ends up cutting off Skywarp. His servos grip your thighs tighter, and then you slack once more, making him pant and gasp right against your panel. Skywarp's spike drags against the floor again in a way that makes him groan. Skywarp can feel his valve starting to drip behind himself from neglect and from how fragging hot all this was.

"But I think you'd actually look cuter choking on my spike like this. All pretty and gagged while I frag your mouth. Till you can't think about anything else but my spike kissing your intake." You coo, and your em field runs down Skywarp's back and wraps around his wings- and his spike throbs against the ground when your thighs squeeze down on his helm further. His wings hike up high from the maddening stimulation that he can't properly move away from or further into!

Slag-!

"You can overload for me like this, right?" You ask, and Skywarp keens because frag he just might-

"C'mon Skywarp, you're practically cleaning my modesty panel with your glossia. If you overload right here for me, I'll pull my thighs away and let you vent correctly." Your thighs wrap down so tight again and- You rut your pelvis forward, and your modesty panel grinds down on his faceplate again. A string of oral lubricant slides down Skywarp's jaw when his glossia presses flat against your panel. "You're doing so good so far. C'mon Sweetspark, you can do it." You say, and your em field drags along his wings, and Skywarp can't not overload right there for you.

Skywarp tenses and groans. His overload wringing out of himself with a gasp when your thighs slack. The rapid gasping vents he takes in against you make his helm and overload feel even warmer, and it's like his whole frames light- Frag it all. Skywarp's spike throbs against the floor. His transfluid smearing against his spike when he softly ruts through his own overload.

"Good boy." Your servos move to pet his helm- your digits fanned along his plating with your hot em field following along.

Slag- yeah, that- That was a good fragging sample for Skywarp. Skywarp continued to huff and pant against your panel, waiting for his spark to stop jittering from how hard he'd just overloaded. Your servos rubbed against the back of his neck-

... Skywarp's overworked processor started to pick up speed the longer he vented fully.

... Wait, your servos-?

Skywarps thoughts cut short when his frame was forcibly put into forced stasis. His frame slacking and any thoughts he had going dark along with the rest of him.

-

You huffed when he finally went limp in your lap and pulled your plug out of Skywarps medical plug-in. You glanced around the empty power plant and started hauling Skywarp off of your pelvis.

Your modesty panel was pretty much drenched in Skywarp's oral lubricant. And your outer thighs had his servo imprints left in them.

Eh, whatever. It was better than your valve being sore, so you'd take it.

You'd be getting the frag out of here before the other two realized you were free. You were trying to limit yourself to one sexually charged encounter with a con per month. You were not going to suddenly make it three. "Ha, thanks for being so good for me, Skywarp." You praised the unresponsive mech with a pat on the wing. Enjoying how the wing twitched under your touch.

Now to go get a hold of your friends so they don't waste a rescue when you don't need one.

... And to wash the seeker spit off your modesty panel.

[ablobwhowrites]

Ya know that one request were some made y/n the ruler of the crk kingdom?

Well it’s time to make some angst with this as they are about to experience distortion

Distortion is when someone is at the mental breaking point and they begin to question their morals and beliefs, and try are presented two options, one distort and become their “truest self” becoming monstrous and manifesting a space where their mind is physical

“This place is filled with the empty husks of their achievements, filled with prizes they did not deserve nor ask for, and the sky blotted out

All their achievements were empty and worth nothing and they have not given anyone anything so they have earned nothing meaningful in turn

So with all encompassing sorrow, and crushing regret…may your heart wither and decay just like the rest of us!”

Dongrang who denies all “______”the empty husk engages battle

tree of spite: inflict memory of spite on a respective cookie and lower speed

Memory of spite: disable skill attacks and reduce damage

Tree of regret: degrade healing and inflict fragile and vulnerable, when destroyed create most of miasma dealing 50 dmg over 1 min

Fragile: reduce defensive stats

Vulnerable: make attack deal 2x damage

Now go crazy!

(False ruler y/n is about to have their angst arc)

They feel like a bird in a cage. A bird with their wings clipped. Y/n wants their old life back, they want to be able to feel free. They always tried to help everyone as before they where forced to be in this over decorated cage, they wandered earthbread and helped any cookie they came across as they never expected anything in return but now they feel themselves begin to wither, their dough beginning to crack as they wish for freedom, they were even pleaded to the ancients but they said y/n would be safer in the castle. They even begged white lily, the ancient that had the soul jam of freedom but she sadly thinks its best too have y/n stay in the castle.

The y/n snapped, they sat in their bedroom alone, they began to smash objects to the ground, ripping off the jewels from their body as the necklace as a gift from cacao cookie now broken with the string snapping as they tear it off, ripping the paints from the walls in their room as the screamed and cried. They sobbed and they broke nearly everything in their room even accidentally hurting themselves in the process as the small cuts on their hands from destroying the things in their room, their jam only pricking out of the small cuts. They are angry, the want to be free again. They want to be able to travel around earthbread as they please again. They want to be out of this cage.

Then suddenly y/n has disappeared from the castle with the only evidence of them escaping was a missing horse and the main gate of the kingdom cracked open as y/n has been missing for weeks from the kingdom as this caused many cookies to panic wondering where y/n had went of if they were kidnapped. But for y/n's corruption, it's similar to a fountain with a statue as y/n trapped inside as to seal themselves away from the others. The monsters made from jagged rocks and others made of water as y/n wants to keep everyone away, they don't want to be trapped again but yet they trapped themselves in their sadness, keeping themselves closed away from everyone else as they want freedom, freedom the only prize they could never be given again. The affects ranges for each cookie as some are harmed less but others have basically a truck load of affects on them but the one who is harmed more is the ancients as y/n saw them as cookies who could help but they didn't and tried to reason with y/n which didn't work as y/n blinded by tears and frustration would try and have them stay away and even gingerbrave ain't safe as he is the one who orchestrated the whole idea in the first place.

The domain they are in is ruins of a castle but the roof broken away and walls about to crumble with only vines keeping them down. Paints of them on the walls only the faces ripped off as the carpet in the ground slightly wet with tears from y/n who ran away here for refuge. As y/n has two fazes as one is their loyal horse they use to travel around earthbread with as their guardian as their attack are only physical based then y/n. A massive fountain with them a statue on top with vines around them keeping y/n in place at the statue as well as the gifts, gold and other false treasures that where given to them are dulled and decaying, y/n's eyes are closed with tears flowing out into the rings below as they scream at them to go away as the cookies hurt one they only trusted as that they will send the cookies back to where they came from but y/n has moments of weakness that have them hold back their attacks but still blinded by their tears will attack no less but once defeated. Their stone fountain will crumble down as the dust settles and the only safe spot is y/n on their knees as they cry telling the cookies to leave them alone as they already hurt and just wish to be free. And this does change as when you have the ancients, y/n will try to fight again but then will collapse down to the ground as just tell them to go away as they don't want to be locked away again, Not again.

(you guys can imagine what the cookie say to y/n after y/n tells them that but yeah. Hopefully I cooked with this, but if you guys like this please don't be shy and request any ideas for this or other stories. Plus I had fun writing this so hopefully you guys like it but for now please stay safe and drink water!)

[delight-angelsbliss]

− ⌗ You could be my mister, yum ⊹.∿

౿ ׂ ִ "Come on, baby. Let's ride. We can escape to the great sunshine" ⁀ ˳ ⊹

Summary: Sonic and Shadow are polar opposites, but how different are they when they get rejected? Yandere! Sonic and Shadow getting rejected by reader.

Prompt: "sorry, I find it hard to believe that you love me when you literally act like you hate me"

Warnings: enemies to lovers of sorts, yandere behavior, rejection, hurt/no comfort, dark themes about stalking, no one believing reader, grammar mistakes are guaranteed my keyboard has been glitching, red marks anything with a suggestive intent behind it (minimal)

Notes: was wondering if I should add notes or not lol but I've been craving to write angst and yandere so I decided to make this. I got 2 requests on the shared blog loll one abt sonic and the other by Nina. I'll probably edit this later lol idk if the ones for shadow r too short. First reposter gets touched

Sonic has always been the kind of person to give second chances, he is generous and selfless at times... For some reason, you didn't get the same treatment. Sonic didn't know what prompted his small outburst at you, making you believe that he harbors hatred towards you. Sonic tried getting closer to you, but you would only push him away in fear of his alleged hatred.

Sonic is a very social person, as we know. His selflessness is endless and he wouldn't dare hurt the people he loved. That would also mean you. Sonic loves you, he loves the way you used to greet him with a wide smile, the way your under eyes creased from your bright smile. It meant the world to him. He wished he could get it back, but he knows he messed up. All sonic could do was continuing to wish for your attention. Now, all he saw when he saw you were your uncomfortable expression before making an excuse to leave the room. He doesn't see how you could hate him. He's the hero of mobius after all... There isn't anything to hate! Sonic knew it wasn't your fault, but his. Deep down sonic didn't want to see his own fault, but he had to, he had to make things better between you 2.

When sonic does tell you his feelings; "sorry, I find it hard to believe that you love me when you literally act like you hate me"

Sonic is very adamant about patching things up, he tries to talk to you, buy you things and much more for even a speck of your attention. Sonic knew it was dumb, you kept pushing him away, so why should he keep continuing this weird behavior? Slowly, he distanced himself from his friends and his old life, opting to spend it stalking studying you. He'd watch from the shadows, making sure to he fast enough for only wind to blow the leaves away. You weren't stupid, you knew it was him. There was no doubt in your mind that THAT was Sonic. The same Sonic who was sending you mail, you knew this behavior was weirdly wrong... But at the same time you knew no one would believe you that Sonic the hedgehog was stalking you. Sonic knows this too, he uses it to his advantage. Since sonic is so loved amongst all of the people who reside on mobius, he could easily get any alibi from some fan or make a story, no one would believe you.

Even with the bad odds, you went to a police station to report all of the evidence against sonic. The police merely dismissed your claims, getting any excuse in the book out; "That's just someone pretending to be him!" "You're making this up for attention aren't you?" "It's ok, we get it. Wanting a secret admirer is nice, but it's a serious accusation and you should really be careful of what you do" (that totally wasn't said to me before) No one would hear you out, no one would spare a glance at the evidence, you could hear their whispers mocking you for this "accusation" Sonic is a reckless stalker. His yandere type would definitely be/include: Touch starved, worshipping, manipulative, reckless, dependant, sadistic. He's overly dependent on your attention and any kind of love/touch you can give him so he doesn't snap and kidnap you. (I give him one and a half months to not kidnap you) he worshiped the love and attention you can give him, it feels so amazing because it comes from you. Even though he worships you, he lives to see your scared face, how you look back to see if you're being followed, even though you will never see him racing past you. As I've said Sonic will use his reputation to manipulate anyone who listens into being on his side, you slowly get outcasted by everyone, isolated and desperate for someone

Sonic makes sure only YOU know about his darker side. Sonic started to enjoy this little game, it was weirdly fun to him. He knows he couldn't ever hurt his darling, but the way you sent letters begging him to leave you alone, how alert you were when going out or going to sleep. It all made him feel so hot and bothered, he loved you to a sick level and he was finally realizing it. His friends noticed his behavior too, the 2 who noticed lovesick behavior the hardest were Amy and Tails. Tails is already extremely attentive, which made it easier for him to realize these weird characteristics of his best friend, Amy on the other case was the one who believed you. With all of the evidence you had it was easier for them to believe you fully and start sticking around you more. It was a small yet effective protection, Sonic knew the pair could easily ruin his life and reputation if they're with you. Sonic could be cunning when it came to his. The amount of emotions that are clouding his mind makes it hard to concentrate, but he will. No matter how much lust, love or fascination he harbors, he'll make sure you're with him

Shadow, he's always reserved and he doesn't like many, so it's easy to assume he hated you the same way as everyone else. That wasn't the truth, for Shadow was lurking in the darkness and waiting to take you with him, to make you realize just how intense his love is

Shadow is always the one to make sure you think you're hated, his dismissed waves when you try to bond, the way he'd brush you off before speeding away. It felt so degrading to keep trying, so you gave it up. Shadow thought it would be nice at first to have some time to himself, with him not needing to worry about you "barging" in and annoy him. He slowly misses your company, the way you would always be there for him with a large smile. Shadow wanted to bottle up these emotions, deciding it was best to let no one know of his small crush. Shadow didn't want to let himself love after all this time, Shadow doesn't want to accept that this isn't healthy at all. Rouge, being Shadows bff already knew about Shadow's behavior around you, it wasn't like how he is with other people he hates and she knows that. Rouge thinks Shadow is overreacting when he tells her he doesn't have a crush, and to not tell you lies. She does so anyway, knowing how brooding Shadow is

"Sorry, I find it hard to believe that he loves me when he literally acts like he hates me"

Of course, the pair wasn't happy to hear that. Shadow, still denying his feelings, pretends to act nonchalant and cool about the whole situation. He thought to himself that he wasn't hurt because he never loved you. He never loved you. He never did, right? The sentence started to repeat in his mind routinely like a prayer. Shadow started to tell himself it was "just to kill curiousity" when he would follow you home, make sure no one else takes you. Shadow didn't want to hear anyone's crap about still being hump up on you. He wasn't. And that's final. Shadow was sneaky, he wasn't like Sonic, he would make sure you DIDN'T know about his existence in your day-to-day life. Shadow didn't really know rejection, since he was already extremely unstable your presence pushes him over the edge.

I imagine shadow to be a Violent, sadistic, independent, and mean yandere. Since he's already pretty emotionally unavailable he will definitely try and be independent as always. Shadow would definitely crumble the act of emotional independence, but not here and not now. Shadow started to despise whoever touched what's his, co-workers would mysteriously start going missing, found later in the dumpster of a high building, bones peeking through the skin and disfigured. This pattern became more evident as you made more friends, therapists, and even family became more in contact with you. People started to stay away in order to protect their life. The police department took notice of this and questioned you, after ruling you out as a threat, they stay with you to see if anyone would appear for you.

Shadow took notice of this too, he knew he needed to act fast. Shadow didn't care anymore, Shadow wasn't stable enough to think straight, he was a harm to himself and others, it wasn't potential, he will hurt someone. You were his target, he was gonna take you home and make you realize that he doesn't hate a beauty such as yourself. You were too kind to him, that's enough evidence that you're too kind for this world, so it's only right to keep you safe. Shadow would make sure he could kidnap you and take you "home" he knew it was partially sick, but that thought was buried away as his state worsened. He can't lose another, you won't leave him. When you are kidnapped, you're wrists are pinned above your head onto the headboard of the bed, the room looked identical to yours, the rooms were painted your favorite color, the furniture was also like stolen from home, the only things that were your stuff. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad

[frickingnerd]

roommates to lovers with cove

pairing: cove holden x gn!reader

tags: childhood best friends to lovers, awkward romantic tension, walking in on each other changing, roommate!cove

moving in with your childhood best friend seemed like such a good idea, until you realized that this meant you'd spend every free moment with cove, making it almost impossible to hide your feelings for the boy!

both cove and you were head over heels in love with each other and have been for years, yet neither of you ever acted upon those feelings, simply pretending you were just friends

but now that you two found yourself living in the same apartment, cove's feelings for him grew even stronger! and it wasn't any different for yourself…

suddenly, there were all these small domestic moments you shared with each other, making it truly feel like you were already some old married couple – going grocery shopping together, cleaning the apartment together or making dinner together every night

but those weren't the only new moments you began to have with one another! while sharing a bathroom, it kept happening that you walked in on each other changing or saw each other hurry back to your rooms after a shower, wearing nothing but a towel

it was difficult to handle that mix between a mundane life and the constant thrill of seeing a new side of the person you loved!

though it only made it more obvious just how much you loved each other! all those times you turned into blushing messes in front of each other, unable to hide those feelings, since there was no place the other one wouldn't be as well

and eventually, it became too much! there was no way cove and you could hide the way you felt any longer…

after another awkward run in during which cove walked in on you changing, he ended up not only stammering out an awkward apology, but also a few compliments and letting a small “i love you” slip out

both of you were awkward messes, unsure what this even meant for your relationship. but it was clear that you both felt the same way! and once you calmed down a bit, you could finally have a proper conversation about your feelings for each other, leading to you two finally becoming a couple!

[valentine-cafe]

May I have a croissant and a red velvet cake!!

[Gn reader]

Just thinking about being their sweet little lover!! But you don't like how little attention you're getting!! You get that they're busy people and have to work all the time!!! But what about you!?!?:( So you'll just sneak out of the house and wait a block away from your shared home!! You just wanna see how long it'll take to notice your gone!! But it felt like 30 minutes had past so you'll begrudgingly make your way back!!! With tears in your eyes because neither of them went after you!! And when you open the front doors you'll find both of them waiting for you!! And the clock said only five minutes had passed!!!

-🍄

🍒 𓂃 𝑶𝑹𝑫𝑬𝑹 𝑼𝑷 : croissant & red velvet cake !! . . . mad doctors ⊹ gn reader .

. ᘛ 𝑓𝑒𝑎𝑡​​​​​​​𝑢​​​​​​​𝑟​​​​​​​𝑖𝑛​​​​​​​𝑔﹕verse 209 ꮽ  herrera husbands

 𐔌𖹭 ˖ ࣪  who's that ?⠀a mad doctor/scientist duo, monstrous and charming

ּ  ֗ recepit ℘ ... you ran away to see if they'd come get you but was dissappointed when they didnt ⊹ cw ٬٬ none!

"You didn't come look for me," the pout in your voice is as clear as the one that forms on your face. Expression full of disappointment. Only for the frown to grow a bit deeper when your serpent husband playfully rolls the amber eyes in his skulle.

"Sweetheart please," He huffs quietly and looks over at Rishen who only grins at your shenanigans.

"We don't have to look when we know you want us to. You'll come back faster than we can leave the door." He chuckles and crosses his arms to mimic you.

In defeat, you walk through the door, huffy and telling them to stop mocking your noises and movements.

Well, until they litter kisses all over you and bathe you in affection. Why had you wandered out in the first place? You've forgotten all over again.

[thequietkid-moonie]

Darling loves them just the way they are

[ YANDERE HEADCANONS ] [ Furina, Kafka ]

[ Genshin Impact ] [ Honkai Star Rail ]

⚠️ A bit of spoilers in Furina's part

This was requested by @the-ultimate-puppeteer but im an idiot and lost the ask

This was quite interesting to write, specially cuz i live them <33 hope you like it dear readeeeer ~

Furina

Furina has always done her best to play the role she was given, enduring the inmense loliness with the promise of being able to save her people, slowly losing herself a bit in the process

Furina was tortured by her life and role for as long as she was alive, having to become what her people needed and forgetting about herself, she wouldn't be free, she wouldn't have the right to be herself until this performance reached its end, and it wasn't until she found you that she felt trapped in her own life

You came to Furina's life like a ray of hope, something to hold onto and something that could give her life a meaning, and despite the fact that she was scared it didn't take her too much time before growing incredibly dependant of you

For Furina her darling became everything that was right in this world, the reason why she was born and the reason why she needed to keep going, so for that same reason she quickly found herself being eating alive for the anxiety, you were too precious for her, she needed you at her side but since she doesn't want to force you then she most make sure you like her, to love her, for what she spend a lot of time looking over you, watching her every move and carefully selecting every world that left her mouth whenever you were around, slowly trying her best to present herself at her best just to make sure you liked her!

Furina was too scared that you may not like her, being reminded to that old times when she became the Hydro Archon, those times where she was heavily judged by her own people for not being god-like enough. Furina spent so much time worrying over being the best for you that it took her an awful amount of time to realice that you already liked her as she is

You have grown to love Furina just the was she is, you grow to appreciate her and since she not so discreetly have show how much she appreciate your company and made efforts to keep you at her side as much as posible you grow to see more of her, more than just the Hydro Archon but about Furina, slowly appreciating her extra efforts to make her crush like her (as you think it is, underestimating a bit her feelings)

Even if she noticed Furina will not accept that something like this is true until you tell her directly, until you express to her that you indeed love her just the way she is, and is then when she let go of a relieved sigh before tears start to form in her eyes, trying really hard to don't admit how much she has being worrying about this but letting herself to cry in your arms, being the first time she finally feels safe in all her life, clinging to this feeling and promising herself to don't lose it, even if she has to change completely and play the role you want her to play as long as you don't leave her, not even when everyone turns against her or when the truth is finally revealed

Kafka

Kafka is a wanted criminal, even in her home planet she was considerate a threat, rethless in battle and always ready to get in fights for the thrill of it, always doing a perfect job, even so thats not all that she is

Kafka has being working for Elio for quite a long time already, following him for her own promised reward and never doubting him, so the moment she have met you she already knew it would have happened, still that didn't meant she didn't have quite the pleseant surprise when she found you, she fell in love pretty quick and it didn't took her more time to know that she wanted you in her life

Even so Kafka isn't exactly a selfish person, or at least not all the time, she is well aware of who she is and the effect she and her presence can bring to others, even if she doesn't understand fear she doesn't want you to be scared of her, so she took upon herself to make you see what an amazing partner she can be for you, she wants to go in the gentle way rather than forcing her way into your life (but if she has to do it she will without a doubt)

Kafka took the time to get to know you and to present herself, she didn't made much efforts to be of your liking since she didn't felt like she needed, you would be hers one way or another, still she make sure you knew her true self. Kafka never denied to you that she is the merciless wanted criminal, that person who would kill without hesitation but you were special for her so she let you know that soft side of her, that side that were constantly looking after you and treat you with a gentleness that it was even flattering

Kafka made her way throught your life with kindness and sincerity, with sincere and meaningful attempts to win your heart, somehow always being there but always having a kind smile to offer, she was taking mental notes of your reactions and paying close attention to you, after all her whole point was to win you over to take you with her

It didn't take her much time to realice that she have managed to win you over and yet, again, it was quite the pleseant surprise when she got to know (either because she did noticed too or that you admited it to her) that you grew to love her just the way she is, including that rethless side of her

Kafka was surprised but she couldn't do more than laugh softly when she found out, you truly are something else, don't you? Well, she love you too, she love every part of you, and she is yours just as much as you are hers so the fact that you love her so sincerely and absolutely is not only appreciate but also reciprocated, altought, the fact that you accept you love her so much it just give her free pass to do whatever she wants and whatever she has to do to protect those feelings

[creator1mpersonator]

The Rescue Mission

02. Blue Medallions

No use of y/n, lowk may be a little bit rushed so I may rewrite it later, things are indeed happening

There was a path to the side of a tall tower. You followed the arrow sign, finding another gate. You opened it, entering another part of the village. There were a few blue medallions hanging on tree branches, but some were broken on the ground. Shot down, by the looks of it.

You hoped that meant that Leon had been here. That could mean the trail wasn’t completely cold.

A blue piece of paper was stapled onto a tree. You hopped over the fence, tearing it off. It was mostly illegible, but what you could make out said that there were 15 blue medallions, 7 in the farm and 8 in the cemetery. 10 or more shot down resulted in some kind of award.

You folded up the paper, pocketing it. It could be useful, maybe.

You walked through the area, finding a few hostile villagers that ran at you with pitchforks. A few knife swipes was enough to take them down, which was useful to know since ammo was precious in a place like this. You shot down the remaining blue medallions, counting five. There didn’t seem to be that much in the area, aside from a few yellow herbs, chicken eggs, and pistol ammo. A few cabinets contained sparkly gems, which you took like a raven attracted by something sparkly.

Once you looted the houses (well, that was practically what you were doing), you continued to the next gate you saw. You walked out, only for three villagers to push down a boulder in your direction from above.

“Fuck!” You yelled, bursting into a run. You just narrowly avoided getting crushed like a bug by jumping out the way the moment you could, the boulder crashing into the side of a mountain by a tunnel.

“Jesus…” you panted, standing back up. You checked to make sure your transmitter was okay, before radioing in.

“Hunnigan, bad news.” You panted, trying to catch your breath, “I’ve confirmed the body of an officer, and something is seriously wrong with the people here.”

“Your intel matches what Leon told me.” Hunnigan said, “where are you now?”

“I just left the village, I’m by a tunnel.”

“Get out of there as fast as you can,” Hunnigan worriedly said, “find Leon and Ashley, don’t engage more than necessary.”

“Roger that.” You said, before ending the transmission.

You armed yourself with your pistol, walking through the tunnel. You groaned when you saw more houses, you knew this wouldn’t be easy but this mission was taking years off your lifespan. Hopefully not literally, you wanted to take a long bath after all of this was over.

You saw what could only be described as a trap, a wire held up by two explosives. You shot one of the bombs, making everything in its vicinity explode. You backed away, covering your face.

“¡No los dejes escapar!” (Don’t let them escape!) One of the villagers yelled. This one was different; instead of pitchforks, they had molotov cocktails. You quickly jumped back, narrowly avoiding the explosive before firing at the villager. He fell down, but two more took his place. ‘At what point does this become annoying?’ You pondered, firing at them. They moved slowly, before falling like flies

Soon enough, the hostiles were all dead. You walked through the empty houses, taking whatever useful items you found. There was a rather large house, two stories tall with a lock on the door. You broke it with the butt of your pistol, and surveyed the interior before finding no hostiles. It was dusty, and looked almost deserted.

Almost.

You entered a real fancy living room, finding a bookshelf pushed out the way of a secret doorway. It was empty, and a broken closet sat in the corner.

“Nothing here,” you quietly mumbled, turning around to leave. You screamed when you saw a tall man at the doorway behind you. He had a black eye and a red eye, bald but with a long, black beard. He wore a black trench coat and you could see black pants and combat boots. He looked like he’d seen better days.

You immediately began firing bullets, but he advanced like they were nothing. You backed up, continuing to shoot, until he got close enough to disarm you and throw you against the wall like you weighed nothing.

You tried to catch your breath, but your ears were ringing and everything hurt so bad.

“No pensé que enviarían a otro agente…” the man said, before your world went dark completely. (I didn’t think they would send another agent…)

You woke up in a new room, your hands held together by a shackle connected to a chain. But, it wasn’t just you.

Because you could feel two other pairs of hands rubbing against your skin.

One of them, a man, woke up. He struggled against his binding, shifting you and the other person in the process.

“Hey, hey. Are you awake?” He asked, and you looked to your side to see the man you were looking for. Well, at least he wasn’t dead.

“Leon Scott Kennedy?” You asked, and you felt him tense up next to you.

“Whos asking?”

“I’m Special Agent ___ ___.” You introduced yourself, “I was sent on a rescue mission by the D.S.O. after you went twelve hours without making contact. I’m supposed to get you and the Baby Eagle home.”

“A rescue mission?” Leon asked, “I don’t need rescuing.”

“Look at the situation we’re in right now and tell me that again.” You retorted, and he fell silent.

The third person, also a man from what you could deduce, groaned and awoke from his slumber.

“Ay yai yai,” he muttered, “don’t be so rough, whoever you are.”

“What’s going on here?” You immediately asked.

“Americanos? Figures.” The mystery man said, “what brings you two here?”

“I’m— we’re—“ Leon corrected himself, “looking for this girl.” He weasled a picture of Ashley out from his pocket, showing the man, “seen her?”

“You two police?” The man asked.

“We’re not.” You said.

The man hummed.

“Let me guess… is that the president’s daughter?”

You and Leon both paused.

“One hell of a guess.” Leon spoke first, “start talking.”

“I’m a psychic,” the man joked, but after he gained no positive reaction, he awkwardly said “just kidding.”

“How do you know about her?” You asked him.

“Overheard some of the villagers talking about her, guess she’s in the church.” He explained.

“And who exactly are you?” You pressed.

“Me llamo Luis Serra.” Luis introduced himself, “used to be a cop in Madrid, but now I’m a good-for-nothing ladies’ man. And you?” (I’m called Luis Serra.)

“I’m Special Agent ___.” You said, and Leon introduced himself as well.

“Why’d you quit?” Leon asked Luis.

“Bah, policía.” Luis grumbled, “you put your life on the line and no one really appreciates you! Being a hero isn’t what it’s cracked out to be.”

Leon was silent for a moment, before he spoke again, “I used to be a cop. Only for a day, though.”

“And I thought I was bad.” Luis teased.

“Managed to get myself involved in the Raccoon City incident,” Leon said, and you began listening intently.

“Oof, qué suerte.” Luis said, “you know, I think I—“ (What luck.)

The door suddenly opened, and a bloody villager weilding an axe entered.

“Te voy a matar.” He hissed, approaching. Like chickens with their head cut off, the three of you began scrambling. (I’m going to kill you.)

“Do something, cop!” Luis exclaimed at Leon.

“You first!” Leon retorted.

“Either of you do something!” You yelped.

“What about you, special agent?!” Luis yelled.

The villager pulled the axe back, and by some stroke of luck, the three of you managed to move in a position where the axe hit the shackles that bound you. You all rolled away. The man moved toward Leon, who managed to kick him in the abdomen and send him crashing into the wall. He died with a sickening crack, his neck snapped in half.

Luis took this opportunity to run off, and you considered following but decided that Leon was much more of a priority. You got up, before extending a hand out to him.

“Alright?” You asked. He nodded, taking your hand and getting up with your help. Your transmitter beeped.

“Hunnigan, I got good news.” You said, “I’ve found Leon.”

“Really? Oh, that’s great.” She said, “is he with you right now?”

“He is. We also have an idea of where Ashley is. A male civilian held captive told us that she was being kept in an old church.”

“Is the civilian alright?”

“He escaped fine. We’re gonna head back to the village, apparently there’s a secret path that leads there.”

“Be safe.” She said, before the transmission ended.

Leon armed himself with his pistol, and you went to do so as well until you remembered that the man with the trench coat had tossed your’s away back in that old house.

“Damn.” You muttered.

“You alright?” Leon asked.

“No. Some fucking guy in a black trench coat disarmed me, I don’t have my pistol.” You said.

“You have a knife and a shotgun, though.” He said.

“…Touché.”

You decided to use your knife for the time being, and the two of you walked out the room you were originally kept in. In the hallway, a man appeared just outside the window.

“Over here, strangers.” He said, mouth covered by a purple cloth with a silver design and a hood covering his head. You and Leon shared a look before heading out the small house.

It was windy out, more so than when you first arrived in Valdelobos. From what you could tell, you were high up because the clouds were close and you could see mountain peaks clearly. You and Leon moved slowly, checking for any villagers and not finding anyone. Around the back of the house was the man from earlier, who chuckled when he saw the two of you approach and opened up his trench coat to reveal a mini arsenal.

“What’re you buying?” He said, and Leon was the only one who actually seemed interested. He assessed a pistol and a rifle the Merchant was selling, before giving him many gold coins (maybe you should’ve paid more attention to those little boxes…)

“Yer business is appreciated.” He said, and Leon turned around towards you.

“Here,” he held out the pistol. You blinked.

“You didn’t have to buy me a new one.” You said, taking the weapon into your hands.

“I wanted to. I don’t need anyone slowing me down.” Leon said, which killed the mood completely. Does he remember you’re here to save him?

And, well, Ashley too. But you’re sure she actually has manners.

To make matters worse:

“You know, you’re pretty cute.” Leon said, “maybe after all of this is over, we could get dinner?”

“We’re on duty.” You immediately shut him down.

“Story of my life.” He muttered, walking alongside you to the gate leading out. It would only go downhill from here, you should’ve left Leon S. Kennedy alone.

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

WB!R seems like the type to like the song Goodtime! by Be Your Own Pet

Also also, I GOT HAMILTON TICKETS IM FREAKDJDJJDND

OMG I LOVE BE YOUR OWN PET AND THAT SONG REPRESENTS READER BIG TIME

Reader is like in the corner of so many family pictures, doing their own thing, or their face blurs out of pictures. Everyone is having fun with each other, and you're always six feet back. The spotlight shines on them and blinds you. No matter how hard you try, you’re always the forgotten sibling. You've been left on read and delivered so many times. What's the point of having their number if no one answers? Oh, they're out at the movies without you. That's cool, that's awesome—not like you're on the verge of tears. It doesn't matter; it doesn't matter that you weren't there for the silly group photo that was posted on the official Wayne family Instagram. It's fine. Next time, reporters ask how you're doing tonight, "I'm having a good time." You're about to down this whole bottle of champagne and get so drunk that you'll forget your own name. At least you're having a good time.

[lazy-ahh]

ORBIT (YOU BURN BRIGHTER WITHOUT ME)

pairing (slightly older) mark grayson x gender neutral reader

you loved him in the way people love stars—knowing the light is already dead by the time it reaches you. mark grayson was made of collisions: his hands, his heart, his promises. you didn’t mind the bruises. not until the day you became one of them. (or: in which love is not enough to save you, but it’s the only thing either of you knows how to bleed for.)

you loved him in the way people love stars—from a distance, knowing they’re already gone by the time the light reaches you.

mark grayson was always made of collisions. you learned this the first time he kissed you: his hands trembling against your jaw like he was afraid you’d disintegrate. (you didn’t. not then.)

it happened on your rooftop, the city lights smudged across the sky like a half-hearted constellation. he’d just stumbled back from a fight, his suit clinging to him in torn patches, his breath still uneven. you reached out to wipe the blood from his lip, and he caught your wrist. his palm was warm. his voice was cracked open.

"why do you always let me come back like this?"

you didn’t say because i love you or because i’m afraid one day you won’t. you just shrugged. "someone’s gotta keep you in one piece."

and then he kissed you.

it wasn’t sweet. it was a collapsing thing—his mouth desperate against yours, his fingers pressing into your skin like he was trying to memorize the shape of you. when he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours. his whisper was rough. "tell me i’m not gonna wreck you."

you stayed quiet.

later, tangled in your sheets with his heartbeat under your fingertips, he nudged his nose against your hair. "you’re thinking too loud," he murmured, lips brushing your temple.

"just memorizing," you lied.

"memorizing what?"

"this." your thumb traced the scar on his shoulder—the one he got saving a bus full of strangers he’d never meet. "you."

he laughed, soft and tired, tugging you closer. "i’m not going anywhere."

(you never told him the truth: that you were counting the seconds until the universe remembered he wasn’t yours to keep.)

☆

the hospital ceiling is white as a tomb when you wake.

(mark remembers the sound your body made when it hit the ground. the viltrumite’s fist cracking into your ribs like they were nothing. like you were nothing. he was screaming your name, but his feet were rooted to the pavement—why couldn’t he move, why wasn’t he faster—)

he sits at your bedside now, his knuckles split and healing too slowly. he doesn’t cry. (heroes aren’t supposed to.) but his breath hitches when your fingers twitch—like even that small movement is a miracle he doesn’t deserve.

"hey," he says, voice frayed at the edges. "you’re okay."

(lie. you’re not. he isn’t either.)

(he replays it in his head every night: the way you looked at him right before it happened. you’d shoved him out of the way—always sacrificing, always so stupidly brave—and for one terrible second, he thought this is it, i’m going to watch you die.)

☆

before, he’d trace constellations between your scars and call them beautiful.

now, his eyes skip over the wheelchair beside your bed like it’s a ghost he can’t face.

☆

"you don’t have to stay," you tell him one night, watching his reflection warp in the rain-streaked window. the glass turns him into something fractured—all sharp edges and trembling hands. his shoulders tense, like you’ve struck him. another impact he couldn’t stop.

"i’m not leaving," he says, too fast. his voice cracks down the middle. it sounds like a prayer, not a promise. like if he says it enough times, it might become true.

(you wonder if he knows you can hear the guilt in his pulse. viltrumite-strong, and yet—)

his fingers twitch toward you, then curl into fists. "just—tell me what to do," he whispers. "tell me how to fix this."

you don’t answer. the silence between you grows teeth.

somewhere, a monitor beeps. outside, the city burns. mark grayson stays perfectly, painfully still—like if he moves, you might finally see him for what he is:

just a boy. just a liar. just another thing that couldn’t love you gently enough to matter.

☆

the weeks pass in a blur of bruised knuckles and sleepless nights. mark trains like he’s trying to outrun the sun—punching through concrete walls, flying until his muscles scream, staring at the sky like it might crack open and give him a second chance. he hovers near you constantly, his hands twitching at his sides like he wants to reach for you but forgot how. (or maybe he’s afraid his touch will leave bruises now. maybe he’s right.)

one night, you catch him watching you from the doorway, his eyes hollow in the dim light. the shadows carve him into something sharp and unfamiliar. you take a breath.

"you don’t look at me like you love me anymore," you say, voice softer than the hum of the streetlights outside. "you look at me like i’m a mission you failed."

something in his face shatters.

for a long moment, there’s only the sound of his ragged breathing. then, quietly, like it’s being torn from his ribs: "every time i see you, i remember how weak i am." his hands flex, useless. "i don’t know how to love you without drowning in it."

the admission hangs between you, thick as blood.

(you think this might be the most honest he’s ever been.)

☆

you leave.

(not forever. just for now. just long enough to remember how to breathe without the weight of his guilt pressing into your lungs.)

mark doesn’t stop you. he stands in the doorway of your shared apartment, his fingers leaving crescent moons in his palms. "i’ll be better," he says, like it’s a vow. like he can carve the weakness out of himself if he just bleeds enough.

you don’t say i know. you don’t say i’ll wait.

(but you press a kiss to his cheek—chaste, fleeting—and for a second, his pulse stutters like it used to.)

months later, you find him on your fire escape, his knees pulled to his chest like a child. the city sprawls beneath him, all neon and noise, but he’s staring at his hands like they’re still empty.

"i think," he starts, then stops. the words come out cracked: "i think i’m learning how to miss you without it feeling like a punishment."

you sit beside him. his shoulder brushes yours—warm, familiar.

(neither of you mention the way his comms device buzzes incessantly in his pocket. the way his eyes flicker toward the skyline every few seconds, braced for disaster. the way love, for him, has always been a countdown.)

but for now—

for now, his fingers lace through yours, tentative. "stay?"

you squeeze back.

(and somewhere, a star collapses in silence.)

1.1k words of angst and honestly? even i’m left heartbroken in the end. so sorry to everyone who read this—but at the same time, why are you here??? still. i really appreciate you guys for sticking around. i was in the mood to break some hearts, sooo... don’t worry, i’ve got the aftercare (fluff one-shot) ready to go once i finish this other one-shot and toss it into the queue! unless, y’know, you guys start yelling at me to post it sooner hahahah.

[cheuby]

waking up to simon riley is really sweet.

retired/civilian simon riley in mind, part two to this post. a/n: honestly didn’t expect people to like the first post but here we are, thank you everyone for the pleasant surprise! also, i try to make simon feel more ‘human’, i feel like he doesn’t get humanized enough, does that make sense?

waking up to simon is like being shielded against the world, the contour of his body cradling your softer one as he holds you close in his sleep; maybe there’s an arm thrown haphazardly over your frame, perhaps a leg, or maybe he’s even put a leg between your legs — either way, you’re a mess of limbs and it’s like simon is attempting to fuse with you in his sleep.

simon who sighs deeply before he wakes. when asleep, his chest rises and falls with measured breaths, working in a rhythm; the epitome of peace. but, you move one good inch, try to untuck yourself from underneath his arm, anything — he stirs, filling his lungs with air before huffing it out not even a moment afterward, melting back against you more insistent on putting the weight and heat of his heavy build more onto you.

simon finds himself airing out his apologies as his lips drag across your warm skin in lazy kisses. he almost crushed under his weight in his sleep? he sounds so sorry, voice low and practically murmured whisperers against your skin. his brain is still attempting to catch up with his sleep slurred mumbles, filling in the blanks of his apologies with a kiss or absentminded hum.

simon is just really pretty when he wakes up. if you manage to stop him from nuzzling — or head-butting — into whatever part of you is soft enough for him to bury his face into, he’s all slow blinks and droopy eyes. it also takes a bit for his expression to soften into something a bit sweeter when he first wakes (he has a literal resting bitch face), squinted eyes and his lips pressed into an unamused line. it’s oddly satisfying to see his expression bordering on a pout, rich brown irises looking up at you through pale lashes.

simon has to smooth over the smile that’s fighting to tug at the corner of his lips for a more empathetic one when he’s taking you in for the first time in the morning, your hair a mess. if he didn’t know better, he would’ve asked if you were tossing and turning all night instead of if he did that, his calloused palms petting down your messy hair in short strokes before they settled at framing your face.

saying good morning to simon is a must. if he’s just waking up and he’s gruffing out a good morning, he expects to hear one back. he doesn’t want to hear a groan or some half-assed ‘morning’, it has to be good morning specifically. and oh, you’re asleep? he’s nudging your forearm gently with his knuckle to rouse you a bit, saying another insistent (but sweeter) good morning until you respond.

simon doesn’t always want to be on the go. sometimes being draped in warm covers and a tangle of limbs is where it’s at for simon, wanting to find a little more time in bed with you. so when he’s spooning you and starts crowding impossibly closer, his chin perched right on your shoulder as he uses your extended forearm to prop up his phone like some kickstand to watch some woodcarving asmr video on youtube — you better not move and your eyes better be on that screen, this is his and your enrichment time.

[zvdvdlvr]

thinkin about emotionally strong reader falling apart into bf’s arms… :,)

     He knows it’s bad when you can’t bring yourself to say anything: no witty remarks to play it off, no humble shrug to show that it didn’t phase you- not even a weak joke that you’d heard from passerby during the previous week. He would have known anyway but he knows how bad it is when you can’t hide the wobble in your chin when you meet him at the door and melt into his arms.

     The sound of your stifled cries weaken his heart because he just knows how long you’ve been trying to hold it all together. You don’t know that he sheds his own tears at your sorrow. You don’t know that he feels his own pained heart grow just a touch because you trust him enough to be able to comfort you- to run to him when there is something you really can’t make better.

     When you finally stop trying to smother out the sound of your cries, it breaks his own heart into pieces because your grief is his. He doesn’t know what to do in this pile on the floor- your arms wrapped tightly around him in fear of him leaving with one hand resting at the top of your head and the other one of his hands supporting your neck as you weep into his shoulder- so he just holds you.

     And later, when your cries turn hoarse and the tears run dry, you let him pull you to your feet. He carries you to the dark bedroom because he knows you get headaches after crying. When you still don’t say a word he goes to the kitchen and scavenges some Tylenol and a cup of water.

     He knows you don’t like to feel helpless- to feel like you need to rely on someone. But if he’s being honest, he likes being able to care for you. He likes how you curl up with your head on his chest and your hands wrapped around him. He likes how you let him draw shapes on your back because you secretly love the physical touch. He likes how you let out soft sighs throughout the course of the movie because he knows you’re still awake.

     But most of all, he likes the intamacy of being the one you run to when it’s all too much because damn it all to hell if he made you feel like you weren’t free to be vulnerable with him.

[youronlydarlin]

Just Loser! Simon who's unknowingly a sex god

He says shit like "Did that feel good..?" everytime you two fuck. As if he didn't just give you the most back arching, toe curling, brain numbing orgasm of your life.

You'd be panting like a dog beneath him, eyes rolled to the back of your skull and still he'd be asking "How's that feel..?" Like sir. This isn't UberEATS, why do you keep asking that? Do you want five stars??