Lady of the Sea

25 / she/her This is a side blog where I reblog fanfics, imagines, headcanons, etc.

[maliciouscottonball]

Do you plan to write for the Indoraptor at all? No pressure, I just have a bleeding heart for him and thought it might be cool lol

The Cat That Ate The Canary

Platonic Yandere! Indoraptor x GN! Janitor! Reader

Wordcount: 1819

Thank you so much for the request! Okay, so, this one is shorter than the other dinosaur fics I’ve done but the Indoraptor is also shorter than the other dinosaurs I’ve done fics for so idk. It was heavily requested though so we’re rocking with it. Let me know if you want another part done for this! Not proofread or beta read. Too busy thinking dinosaur thoughts.

TW: Yandere behaviors, kidnapping, delusional behavior, somewhat realism, turning a killing machine into an ipad baby, blood, violence, “pet me or else” dynamics, typical animal in laboratory not getting the care it needs in the Jurassic franchise

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Being a janitor wasn’t the worst thing ever. You were paid incredibly well for your work in the lab at the estate and you didn’t have to clean up too many bad messes. You worked nights and cleaned up the lab after the scientists went home. It was easy work and you didn’t mind handling something so simple. You got to watch the Indoraptor grow up from a distance. When it was young, he was often taken to other labs for reasons that were above your paygrade. It was only once he was an adult that you began your interactions with him.

You had received a notice that your coworker who cleaned the lab with you had quit the night before due to dangerous working conditions. Your supervisor had given you more safety guidelines to follow and you assumed that something had happened with the Indoraptor for them to leave so suddenly. You noticed that the red paint separating where you could and couldn’t walk near his enclosure was freshly painted. Something had definitely happened.

You were mopping near the cage when the dinosaur hybrid began to growl at you. You looked over at him, side eyeing the beast interrupting your otherwise quiet shift. You put your hands on your hips as you looked up at him and then began to realize something. It wasn’t his fault. Your face softened from annoyance into pity.

“Are they being for real right now? You have, like, zero enrichment in there. No wonder you’re so aggressive. I’d be pissed off too if I didn’t have anything to do.” You said, clearly unimpressed with the Indoraptor’s enclosure.

You ended up turning on a random educational kid’s show on your phone and propping it up right in front of the red line. You knew enough not to go past that. The sounds of the nostalgic show replaced the growls and rumbles of the hybrid as you worked on mopping the floor. When you looked over at the animal, you saw him laying on the floor closest to the phone with the side of his face pressed to the glass and his yellow eye locked onto the screen. You chuckled and went back to working. 

This turned into a routine for the both of you. You turned on a show for the animal, he didn’t try to grab your mop while you cleaned outside of his enclosure, and you both got a bit of peace out of it. Your phone died every once in a while you were in the middle of cleaning. You figured that he couldn’t understand you so you just talked about anything and everything. You told him about your tiny apartment, the books you were reading, drama going on with your friends, politics, and anything else that you could think of. He simply sat there and watched you, huffing and making small vocalizations at the appropriate times. That always made you laugh. To you, it was like a dog barking when you talked to them. He was just trying to participate in the conversation.

You were smart enough to never try to touch or pet him, no matter what he did to try to get you to do so. He would whine and press himself against the bars of his enclosure and occasionally would roll onto his back to try to get you to pet his belly. It never worked on you, though it did make you smile. You weren’t about to get your arm torn off for the sake of petting him, even if he was being incredibly cute.

On the night of the auction, you were instructed to clean the museum and lounge areas instead of the lab like usual. You weren’t given an explanation but you didn’t mind that. You quietly dusted as you listened to your headphones, entirely unaware of what was going on until you heard muffled screaming. You paused your music for a few seconds and then decided that it wasn’t worth potentially getting fired over. You resumed your music and turned up the volume as you went back to working.

You didn’t hear the screams getting closer to the room that you were in and then promptly being silenced.

You didn’t hear the soft clicks of claws on metal as the door to one of the living rooms was opened.

You didn’t hear the padded footsteps of a superpredator approaching you.

You did feel the hot huff of breath on the back of your head. 

You smelled the fresh blood as you slowly turned around.

You saw the hybrid built to kill far, far too late.

You closed your eyes and braced for impact as you came to terms with dying on the job.

Then a second passed.

Then another.

You heard a rumbling growl and felt the top of a scaled muzzle slick with blood gently rub against your cheek. 

You kept your eyes closed for a few more moments before hesitantly opening one. The Indoraptor was right there but instead of looking aggressive, he looked like he did when he was trying to entice you into petting him. His eyes were soft and warm and his body language was open and friendly. He genuinely looked happy to be around you, just like he did when he was in his cage, but he also looked incredibly pleased with himself. Blood dripped down his chin as he smugly stared down at you just like the cat that ate the canary.

You yelped as he pushed you back onto one of the plush couches and then began approaching you. You closed your eyes and braced for impact again before being surprised once more. A heavy weight sat beside you on the couch and that same scaly muzzle wormed its way under your shaking hands and onto your thighs. You looked down to see the Indoraptor’s muzzle twist somewhat into an imitation of a smile as he looked up at you. You just stared at him as he began to purr.

You slowly moved your hands away from the animal’s head and the purring immediately stopped. The hybrid gave you a sharp look and began baring his teeth so you quickly put your hands back on top of his head. The purring resumed and the hybrid’s expression changed back to one of happiness. After about 15 minutes, he began rubbing his scaly skin against your hands.

You got the hint. You carefully began petting his scales and his purring only got louder. He seemed to truly enjoy the feeling of your hands on his scales. He especially seemed to like it when you scratched the ridge that went down his spine. It wasn’t long before he rolled onto his side and began pulling on one of your hands towards his belly with one of his impressively clawed forelimbs. You weren’t about to tell him no at this point. You valued staying alive.

The scales on his neck and underbelly were smoother than the ones on his head. You assumed that it was because the ones on his head were meant to be used as armor while the ones on his belly didn’t need to give him nearly as much protection. It felt a bit like petting a warm version of the gigantic reticulated python that you pet at a zoo as a kid. The scales were smooth and the flesh had a bit of give from the soft fat that helped protect the muscle beneath. It was actually very pleasant to touch. The texture and feeling were so fascinating to you that you didn’t notice the affectionate look that the Indoraptor was giving you.

You were feeling significantly more comfortable now that you were pretty sure that you weren’t going to be eaten alive. You even felt comfortable enough to speak to the dinosaur hybrid.

“You’re not so mean, are you, buddy? You’re a good boy. Such a good dinosaur. You’re so good at not biting me, huh? Good dino.” You whispered quietly to him.

He perked up at the praise even more than he usually did when you praised him in his enclosure. He churred as he nuzzled against your side and the more you thought about it, the more likely it was that he could understand you. You hesitated for a moment before deciding to ask him something.

“Do you wanna watch some TV, bud?” You asked softly.

He perked up even more and huffed loudly. It was a very obvious yes.

He growled as you leaned away from him to grab the remote from the coffee table. You froze and went back to your previous sitting position.

“Nonononono, it’s okay, big guy…! I’m getting the remote so we can watch TV…! I’m not leaving…! It’s all okay…!” You desperately reassured him as you went back to petting him.

He growled again and you immediately gave up on using the big screen. It was fine. You didn’t even know for sure if they had the right streaming service for the show you usually turn on for him. You slowly grabbed your phone and started pulling up a kid’s show about nature. He seemed to enjoy that one more than any of the others that you had shown him. He rumbled in approval when the theme song started playing. You carefully held the phone near your knees as he shifted to sit.

Your hope that he would just sit next to you peacefully were quickly squashed as his clawed fingers wrapped around and gently lifted one of your arms. Much to your disgust, he began licking your arm, saturating your work uniform with saliva. Your nose crinkled in disgust at both the feeling and smell. There was the smell of fresh blood, of course, but also the smell of rotting meat from meals long since past. It wasn’t like the scientists who made him could get close enough to brush his teeth. All you could do was sit there and be grossed out.

When he had decided that you had been cleaned enough, he seemed to decide that it was cuddle time again. He nudged you so that you were laying down with your back against the cushions before laying down next to you. He continued to purr as he snuggled up to you, snuffling at your face and licking your cheek with a contented sigh. You hoped that your boss would get to you soon. You gently began petting the animal again as you worried about being able to keep him entertained enough not to eat you. He seemed to sense your distress as he placed a clawed forepaw on your calf. The children’s show continued to play in the background. He was smart and you knew that. You just didn’t know how smart or that he had decided not to let you leave him ever again. He wouldn’t have to be alone anymore.

[maliciouscottonball]

Free From The Lab

Platonic Yandere! D. Rex x GN! Intern! Reader

Wordcount: 2387

AN: I’m back, friends. I fear I lost the plot for a bit but I’m back on a roll again now. This one is a bit of a pivot from the fandoms that I usually write for but I couldn’t stop thinking about it after watching the movie. I love the dinosaurs in the Jurassic franchise and I really wanted to illustrate that they’re victims of the parks. The enclosures and lack of enrichment drive me absolutely nuts in each and every movie. Many thanks to @luckyfools for beta reading for me!!! I messaged them a whole bunch about the D. rex and how I cried over her and the other dinos.

TW: Yandere behaviors, kidnapping (if you squint? Idk. She’s a dinosaur), somewhat realism, mentions of the horrors of the dinosaur creation industry, violence, death of humans and young dinos, animal abuse, real sad stuff, reader being super mega sick

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You were just an intern. You didn’t do anything in terms of actually creating the dinosaurs and hybrids but you had the job of caring for the animals and maintaining their enclosures. You didn’t mind at first. You got to do enrichment activities for the baby dinosaurs, which mostly meant that you were on play and cuddle duty. The research scientists, your bosses, didn’t have time for that sort of thing. They couldn’t afford to get attached to their creations, which is why they sent you to do it instead. No one cared how attached an intern gets to a dinosaur that failed to survive.

It was why you worked so hard to take good care of all of the dinosaurs that you were assigned. You had gotten the job because of your passion for animals and you weren’t about to stop caring about them after being heartbroken a few times. After being there for a few months, you understood that many of them would pass very young. You gently cradled the small body of your newest charge. She was ugly. Very ugly. Even you, who defended the most visually unappealing dinosaur, would admit it. She was so pitiful though that you just held her through most of your work day. You weren’t an expert in any type of animal physiology but it was obvious even to you that the latest hybrid had some issues. 

Distortus rex was a good name for the new species. With six legs, a worryingly hunched back, and an oddly enlarged forehead, she was definitely distorted. You didn’t know why your bosses kept insisting on the hybridization of a T. rex, a few Titanosaur species, and whatever else they chucked into the poor thing’s genome. You found out through whispers in the break room that the little thing in your arms was the twenty sixth iteration. All of the others had either died as a fetus or before adolescence. You had a hard time sleeping at night after hearing that.

The small animal clung to your pointer finger with her two foremost paws as you held her in one arm. It was hard to believe that the little thing was supposed to become twice the size of a T. rex once she was fully grown. You were sitting in a well padded swivel chair after giving it the liquid pain medication that one of the vets on the team prescribed and then feeding her to prevent further discomfort. You had tried to put her down in her small enclosure but she had let out such pathetic cries that you picked her right back up. You knew that she was hurting and the only way that she wouldn’t cry was if she was in your arms, in your lap, or curled up against you.

“Shhhhh, shhhhh. It’s okay, sweetheart. I know. I know. It hurts right now but you just need your medicine to kick in. It’s okay, baby.” You cooed, doing your best to comfort the small creature as you gently rocked it.

She became more independent after many months of you sleeping in the lab with her. Your employers wanted to keep her alive so they reassigned all of your other charges, leaving you to focus exclusively on her. She grew quickly and though her confidence was oftentimes lacking, she was still as sweet towards you as she was when she was a hatchling. She never nipped at you and the most aggressive she would be towards you was when she would sit in front of the door to her enclosure so that you couldn’t leave and lick your face when you tried to get her to move. By the time she was two months old, she was seven feet tall. It felt like every time you woke up, she was already bigger. She ate an incredible amount of food and it felt like every time you sat down after bringing her more meat laced with vitamin and mineral supplements, she had already finished and was begging for more. You knew that since it was exhausting for you, it had to be even more exhausting for her.

Once she breached fifteen feet tall at just under a year old, it was time to move her to her more permanent research enclosure. The shareholders had taken one look at her and decided that she wasn’t fit to be put on display at the park. You remember reading the memo and your jaw dropping at the cruel way that they described her. You weren’t exactly surprised by their words but it was still much more harsh than necessary. You knew that most of the scientists didn’t like her and said nasty things about her when you weren’t there. You felt bad but at the same time, you were glad that you were able to keep an eye out for her safety. You knew that each baby dinosaur saw their main caretaker as their mother, regardless of their caretaker’s gender, and it was no different for you and the Distortus rex. She complied with your requests for the most part thanks to that. It saved her quite a bit of pain to have you guide her. Some of the scientists were more than a little overeager with a cattle prod.

The main reason that you wanted her to be moved out of the Research and Development sector was so that she could have a more appropriately sized enclosure. You weren’t stupid. You knew that the enclosure that the team had her in was much too small. Most of the enclosures for the carnivorous dinosaurs were way too small. The T. rex had an enclosure only a fifth of the size of what she should have but it was better than what your charge had. She had an indoor enclosure the size of a football field, which really wasn’t a lot considering the fact that she was 46 feet long. There was a treadmill that you could put her on but the lack of a proper environment for her to live in always bothered you.

Due to incompatibilities in her genetic makeup, she was constantly in pain. You had to give her medication four times per day to manage it but it meant that most of the time, she wasn’t truly lucid. She was cuddly, for a dinosaur and especially for a hybrid, and loved any kind of physical contact. She was curious but tried to stay close to you whenever she could. She loved it when you would sit and lean up against her when you filled out paperwork and wrote reports. She enjoyed it when you gave her baths and brushed her teeth, even though it took quite a while. It really isn’t easy to keep a 20,000 pound animal smelling nice but you did better with your charge than any of the other keepers.

In return for taking care of her, she would try her best to groom you as well. It always ended with you looking shell shocked as you wandered out of her enclosure, covered in slobber from her licking you. It made the rest of the team laugh but your main concern was finding the nearest shower. Another behavior that she displayed while trying to care for you was gently picking you up and carrying you away from any of the other humans in the area. She knew that they were the ones experimenting on her and how much it hurt. She seemed to want to spare you from it as she held you and shielded you from any and all people viewing the both of you from the observation window. It seemed like she didn’t understand that you weren’t the same as her even when she was fully grown and 26 feet tall.

You always felt bad when you stayed home from work when you were sick because you knew how lonely she would be. You made sure to bring in a blanket from your small apartment to her enclosure so that she would be able to at least have your scent around to comfort her. It seemed to go well, although she was much more aggressive than usual on the days that you weren’t there.

The Snickers wrapper incident happened on a day that you stayed home sick. You were feverish and felt like you were dying when the alarms started blaring with warnings outside. You weren’t exactly with it and just squinted at the people running outside through your window as you stayed curled up in bed. You ended up falling asleep again moments later. When you woke up, you were being carried out of your apartment building by one of the security guards. You could hear screaming all around you but your ears felt like they were filled with cotton and your brain was too fuzzy to think about what was going on. You watched lazily as hybrids from the lab attacked people all around you. In your state, your main question was why you weren’t back under your covers with your stuffed animals. You were thinking so hard about if your shark plushie was more of a dark cyan or a turquoise that you hardly registered the booming roar that came from the research center.

You smiled as your favorite dinosaur came barreling towards you and the guard. Your eyebrows furrow as you hear the man cuss as he hears her. You wondered why anyone would curse at your silly little buddy. Well, maybe she wasn’t very little anymore but you always thought of that itty bitty hatchling whenever you thought of her. You tilted your head and frowned as you watched her stomp on a few of the people in her path. It’s weird that the team let her outside of her enclosure, you thought. Someone could get really hurt.

Your fever-addled brain didn’t think much of it when she grabbed you away from the man carrying you with one of her foremost paws. You were used to her being protective of you. You leaned against her and were too distracted by her scales that you couldn’t hear the crunch of her biting the guard in half. You happily traced the different shapes of her scales as she continued wreaking havoc amongst the humans. Her hatred for the scientists that created her and then subjected her to inhumane tests came out at full force. The rest of the hybrids were behaving similarly. It was loud but you were so focused on the shape and smooth texture of her scales that you were lulled into a trance. It was always easy to distract when you were sick and feverish. You were like this ever since you were a kid. You could remember staring at bumps on the wall and being entranced by them when you were about seven years old. You were easily distracted by random things normally but now that you’re sick? You would be lucky to have your attention caught by something even mildly useful.

As the human screams and hybrid roars died down, the D. rex seemed to decide that it was time to do something different. There weren’t any visible human survivors and her stomach was full. The massive beast turned and began walking towards the mountains. She looked around cautiously as she made her way through the streets that wove through the buildings of the research center. She began carrying you off into the jungle, her massive form easily protecting you from any branches that could scratch or hit you. Between the warmth of the sun, the gentle rocking movement as she walks, and the steady sound of her deep breathing, you were easily lulled to sleep.

When you finally woke up again, you were only slightly more with it. You didn’t fully remember what had happened and just nestled into the grass that you were laid down on. You could feel each and every breath that the giant dinosaur took as you leaned against her. You could tell that she knew that you were awake, even when you were this sick. Her body language was different than usual. She seemed both relaxed and worried at the same time. You couldn’t help but giggle as she tilted her head down towards you and sniffed you a few times.

“Hi little sweetie. Have you been good while I was napping? You’re a silly dino, huh?” You croaked out.

You didn’t even realize how dehydrated you were until you spoke. Your throat felt like a desert as you sat up and looked around for some water. You were very confused when you realized that you were in a nest in a cave. The Distortus seemed to recognize that you were thirsty and gently nudged you towards a nicely sized stream that ran next to the entrance of the cave. She watched you carefully as you stood up shakily while steadying yourself against her. You slowly wandered over to the stream and sat down. Normally, you’d be incredibly worried about pathogens in the water but the fever was enough to shut down most of your higher thinking. You tried to scoop up water to drink for a bit before giving up and lowering yourself to the ground to drink from the source. 

You didn’t bother looking up as you heard her moving behind you. You weren’t surprised when she lowered herself next to you, though you were grateful that she was downstream from you. You didn’t notice the dried blood on her chin being washed away in the water. Once you had a belly full of fresh water and a soothed throat, you sat up and looked around. The D. rex seemed to see that you were done and carefully nudged you to go back to the nest. 

She stood up fully and walked back in only a few steps, looking at you expectantly once she was comfortably curled up in the dried grass. You slowly meandered back to her and laid down next to her. Her scales were cool and comfortable as you snuggled up to her. She seemed content to have you close as you wordlessly settled in for another nap. She was content with being free from the lab and being reunited with her favorite human once more.

[maliciouscottonball]

Liver

Platonic Yandere! I. Rex x GN! Handler! Reader

Wordcount: 4568

AN: I’m obsessed with dinosaurs right now. My dog is sick of me watching the same six movies over and over. I put him in a dinosaur costume. He likes it because he loves attention. The hyperfixation is hitting hard. Thank you again to @luckyfools for beta reading for me!!! The behavior of the I. rex is based on the movie, the Lego version, a few books I’ve been referencing for an upcoming fic, and crazy smart animals I’ve met and seen online.

TW: Yandere behaviors, somewhat realism, mentions of the horrors of the dinosaur creation industry, fighting, violence, death of humans and animals, nutrition stuff in a medical context, gore, more sad times, being at the dentist, the author’s immense dislike of Owen Grady

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You remember holding the two hybrid hatchlings for the first time. You were incredibly excited. You had been brought in by InGen as a handler in the latest expansion to the raptor training research program after you had published your research on best practices for training corvids to do tasks and comply with medical care. It was your first real job out of college and it was the opportunity of a lifetime. You cradled both of the chirping babies with one in each arm. They had snuggled up to you immediately, having already imprinted onto you. You knew that you were going to take the best possible care of them.

The Indominus rex hatchlings were intimidating, even when they were smaller than puppies. At three days old, they had both established territories in their tiny enclosure. It was the size of a large horse stable and you were a bit jealous that the other raptor trainer had more space for his animals. You understood that whatever his name was, something Grady, you think, had four hatchlings instead of two but it was still irritating considering how quickly yours grew. You had read his file and the files of his animals but you weren’t allowed to talk to him about your animals. You didn’t question it. He had his job and you had yours.

You remember sitting in the hybrid enclosure and watching them play fight at the invisible line dividing the enclosure in half. It was very endearing and an excellent way for them to learn boundaries. You were making sure that neither of them were injured when they both froze. You furrowed your eyebrows as you followed their gaze to a rat that had climbed into their pen. Your eyes widened. The rats were an invasive species to Isla Nublar and were known for carrying diseases. Suddenly, the rat darted towards you.

You screamed. 

It’s one thing to gently pat a friend’s pet domesticated rats that would do tricks for sunflower seeds. It was quite another to have a wild one sprinting at you full tilt with the likelihood of catching a disease dangerously high. You scurried back in the mulch, trying and failing to get up as your back hit the wall. You squeezed your eyes shut and prepared to be bitten when there was a loud shriek from the rat and then a sickening crunch. 

You slowly opened your eyes to the larger and more assertive of the two hybrids ripping into the now dead rat. She looked up at you with a blood covered muzzle and a sparkle of what you understood to be pride in her eyes. You watched with mild horror as she tore the innards of the rat out of its ribcage and carefully picked up the liver. She smugly walked towards you with the liver in her mouth and dropped it at your feet. She began letting out a rumble that was surprisingly similar to a purr and affectionately started to rub up against you, smearing the blood onto your cargo pants. You gently petted her tiny head and body as you looked at the bloody liver. The liver was always her favorite part of any meal and she had brought it to you. She gently licked your hands and then playfully licked your face as if she was comforting you. It was a wild report that you wrote that day.

Over the course of a few months, both of the rexes had grown to the size of a great dane. The first hatchling, the one that had imprinted on you first, had remained larger than her sister. She had also become significantly more territorial, especially when it came to you. She was more than happy to scare the daylights out of any of your coworkers or bosses that she saw interacting with you, especially if they acted in a way that she deemed as aggressive. You remember the time when she waited for one of your bosses to get close to the bars of the door of the enclosure before reaching out and grabbing him with one of her forepaws. She had roared so loudly into his left ear that he had a partial loss of hearing and scratches from her claws all over the left side of his body. You remembered how he screamed at you earlier that day for filing reports into the wrong folder. It was in front of the enclosure. It was impossible for your animals not to hear him.

After that incident, both I. rexes were put into a larger, more secure enclosure and you weren’t allowed to be yelled at within a mile of the containment facility. It was literally written into the safety codes. Things at work were a lot more peaceful for a while after that. You did your training activities with your animals and enjoyed the peace. The elder sister became even more affectionate and snuggled you while you were working on your reports. It was a nice way to keep the animals used to humans and get your more tedious work done. You still paid plenty of attention to the younger sister but it was difficult when the elder one was constantly begging for attention and physically pushing the younger one out of the way.

Your bosses didn’t like it when the rexes were aggressive towards each other but there wasn’t much that you could do. They were in a tiny enclosure for animals their size and they were extra hormonal and cranky as they progressed through their adolescence. The two animals were constantly competing for attention and affection, even as hatchlings, and it was unlikely to change unless they both had more space. The two hybrids still occasionally fought but not nearly as often as when they were younger. There were mostly just aggressive vocalizations. They had established a pecking order and they didn’t seem to feel the need for injuring each other further than a few light claw and bite marks.

You continued on with your schedule of daily feedings and training sessions. All of your requests for a larger enclosure for your animals were denied so training was the only thing that you could do to keep their minds occupied. They kept getting bigger and you were very proud of the dinosaurs that you had raised. They were practically your babies, despite them both being slightly smaller than a T. rex at only a year and a half old. You had to make sure that their diet was strictly maintained so that they could get enough nutrition and calories to continue growing properly. You had taken to giving them whole animals like cows and deer after pumping their stomachs full of a nutrient solution to mimic life in the wild a bit. You had come up with the idea after seeing how snakes were fed mice given a similar treatment. It truly helped to bulk up your two charges.

You were in the middle of a training session with the sisters when you were going through standard medical evaluation training. You were in the middle of checking the smaller animal’s mouth for any abnormalities when her massive jaws snapped shut only inches away from your fingers. She knew that the behavior that she was trained to do was to keep her mouth open while you poked at her gums to simulate an actual exam. You were stunned. This was the first time that she had ever disobeyed you outside of a playful context and it was terrifying.

Faster than you could blink, the elder sister charged the younger sister. She clamped her jaws around the other rex’s neck and threw her away from you. The smaller hybrid twisted and managed to slip away before roaring at the larger animal. The larger animal moved to block you with her body and roared back. You were panicking. You had never experienced anything like this. You were trained to work with crows and ravens, not giant dinosaur hybrids. You looked around the enclosure frantically as the two charged one another and began to fight again. 

You could clearly see the door but it was on the opposite side of the enclosure, right behind the smaller dinosaur. You backed up against the wall and just watched the two fight. You weren’t stupid. You knew that you had to stay behind the larger hybrid if you were to stay alive and unharmed and you just prayed that the larger one won. She had successfully protected you from threats, both real and not, when she was younger and you were really hoping that this time wouldn’t be any different. After a few minutes of them fighting, the smaller hybrid gave up. She grumbled as she walked away from her sister and her sister just watched her. 

You relaxed as you watched them and figured that you’d just have to do a few months of training behind a barrier to rebuild trust with the younger hybrid. It would be a pain but it would likely turn out okay. You sighed and slumped against the wall. You watched as the elder sister looked back at you and smiled at her. She was a good dinosaur. You were surprised when she turned away from you and back towards her sister. Your eyes widened in horror as she charged towards the other dinosaur again and clamped her jaws onto the other animal’s neck. You watched in terror as her jaws crunched down. It was much, much louder than when she killed the rat.

You could see the light leaving the other dinosaur’s eyes. You had raised her and loved her for her entire life and she had just been killed by an animal that you had done the exact same for. You could see the twitches in the dead beast’s muscles as her sister dropped her and began tearing her body cavity open, just like she had when she killed the rat. She dug around in the organs as tears began to stream down your face. Just like she had done more than a year ago, she lifted up the liver in her jaws and walked towards you pridefully. 

She dropped the massive organ at your feet and tilted her head as she looked down at you. She rumbled softly as she gently nudged your leg with her muzzle, unintentionally smearing her sister’s blood on your cargo pants. She gently licked your shaking hands and then your face. She was behaving similarly to how she did when you were anxious before meetings or when you would get startled by her or her sister moving too quickly. She gently nuzzled the tip of her snout into your stomach, being as incredibly gentle as she always was when she tried to touch you.

You cried harder as you began petting her muzzle with trembling hands. You were deeply upset but you weren’t as afraid as you probably should be. She had protected you and even though her appearance was absolutely terrifying, her body language was calm, friendly, and open. She wasn’t a threat. She had never been a threat to you. Once you had stopped crying, she moved away from you and began to eat the corpse of her now dead sister. It was almost a peaceful scene, if you ignored the identity of her meal. 

You slowly got up and began making your way around the perimeter of the enclosure to get to  the door. The remaining I. rex looked up at you and gave a call that you recognize as one of acknowledgement. You looked back at her and mimicked the call like you did when she was a hatchling. She seemed pleased and simply went back to eating. Once you got through the human sized door, you were immediately whisked away by worried medics. You were sat down in a chair and examined for injuries. 

You looked around and tried to find a friendly face until your eyes met those of your boss. Not exactly a friendly face but you were frazzled and a little desperate for answers and someone to talk to about what happened.

“Did you see that…? She protected me from her own sister…! It’s a breakthrough…! She could have similar instincts to one of the species of eagle where the larger sibling kills the smaller one to have more attention from their parents. Can you check with the lab to see if there’s any eagle DNA in her genome?” You said softly to her.

“You need to sit down and let the doctors look at you. We can consult with the lab once we’ve made sure that you’re not injured. You need to be quiet so they can check your lungs.” She stated sternly.

You shut up after that. You were covered in dinosaur blood, you had just seen an animal you raised slaughtered, and you certainly wanted to stay employed so you could keep your health insurance and startle a company issued therapist with a retelling of your day. You took a week off once the doctors had cleared you as a mental health break. You divided your time between therapy, sorbet eating sessions, movie watching, video game playing, coloring in a coloring book from one of the many gift shops, and wondering what would happen when you finally got back to work. It was all very relaxing, minus the part where you dreaded going back to work.

When you finally clocked in for work the following Monday, you were pleasantly surprised by how the Indominus greeted you. You took the stairs down to the entrance to the enclosure and heard an ominous whooshing noise at the door. You stared at it for a second and then shrugged. You swiped your key card and then opened the door to see the nostril of the I. rex at eye level. You could feel her warm and legitimately terrible smelling breath as she smelled you and then she moved. This time, it was her eye staring at you. You stared back at her and realized that it was going to be a much longer day than you originally thought.

“Hey girl. Did you miss me?” You said quietly to her.

She grumbled at you and seemed happy to see you. You gently patted her scales and then motioned for her to move. That day, you didn’t do any training with her. She seemed anxious and just wanted affection. You ended up sitting there as she rolled on the ground near you and then licked you on loop for a solid hour. She seemed worried about you and kept looking at you to reassure herself that you were still there.

After feeding her, you laid down in the shade with her and gently petted her as she dozed. You climbed up onto her back and started gently picking the dirt off of the base of one of the spine structures on her back as she contentedly rested. You weren't sure why the lab had given her spines. It looked cool, sure, but you remember putting cold compresses on her and her sister's backs when they had them coming in as juveniles and hatchlings. It was like they were teething but on half of their little bodies. They had whined and yowled so pitifully that you had to keep them on pain medication for months.

You let your mind wander as you kept gently grooming the massive animal. You knew that she enjoyed it. She couldn't reach most of the spots on her back, especially with the spines, and it was up to you as her handler to make sure that she was clean. You thought a bit more about the lab. While you were grateful that you got to raise and care for the I. rex hatchlings, you couldn't understand why the lab made the hybridization decisions that they made.

It was just plain odd. Her teeth were constantly aching and her gums were always swollen. It was the main reason that you did the mouth check training in the first place. She would lose her teeth and they would regrow like a crocodile or an alligator’s teeth, which was both useful for preventing permanent tooth loss and concerning for her health. It meant that she was constantly teething. You had gotten her dog toys as a hatchling and then had to upgrade to the massive tractor tires that she uses now. You made sure to put them in a giant walk-in freezer whenever you had the chance but even then, she still had mouth pain.

She has grown exceptionally quickly and while it was fascinating to see, you knew that she had aches and pains everywhere. She was already bigger than expected while not even fully grown yet. Her enclosure was too small for her and you never quite got how your boss expected two massive and aggressive dinosaurs to get along in the equivalent of half a shoebox apartment. It was inevitable that one would get mauled. She would lean up against the sun warmed sides of her enclosure to have a heat source to soothe her growth pains and her sister would do the same when she was alive. They would often fight over the best spots, all for the sake of not being in as much pain.

You also didn't get why they made her so smart. Whatever they had sprinkled into her genome made her smarter than most of your coworkers, which is an absolutely terrifying prospect considering that they can vote. When she was younger, she would take your key card so that you couldn't leave and would spend more time with her. Nowadays, she has simply learned the behaviors that you thought were cutest and funniest and displayed them whenever she wanted attention. 

She had learned to wag her tail like a dog and started producing short roars that were similar to what you'd imagine a hellhound or even Cerberus barking would sound like after you watched funny dog videos while in her pen. She would scare the guard in charge of watching her whenever you were in the console room of her enclosure with him. She would lick you and try to groom you when you were sad or dirty. She would curl up around you to shield you from any prying eyes on the rare occasion that you fell asleep in her enclosure. She would listen to every single one of your commands and obey as quickly as possible. She would even try to respond appropriately with vocalizations when you spoke to her, even when she didn't know what all of the words you were saying meant. She just wanted you to be happy with her. She liked it when you laughed and smiled. 

Suddenly, the radio on your hip crackled to life and startled you and your charge out of the peaceful moment that you were sharing. You almost fell off of the Indominus’s back with how loud it was. She didn't seem happy about being interrupted and she seemed even less pleased that you were startled by it.

“Hey, are you okay in there? The boss says we have to do regular check-ins to make sure that you're alive and out of danger.” The man's voice said.

It was Dave, the guard in the console room. 

Before you had a chance to comprehend what was happening, the massive dinosaur had moved her forepaw and carefully pressed the talk button on your radio with a singular massive claw. She let out a vicious warning growl as she stared up at the observation window. You stared at her for a second and just blinked a few times as she released the button and settled back in. Talk about a grumpy animal.

You shrugged it off. She didn't chew on or break the radio so you really didn't care in the end. You had to learn how to be flexible and choose your battles in this job. You reached down to your radio and were about to somewhat playfully respond to the man as you settled back in as well but once again, you were cut off.

“Did your dinosaur just sass me?” He said bluntly.

“Yeah. She gets grumpy sometimes and likes to talk. Sorry.” You replied slightly sheepishly.

You couldn’t really say much else. What else could you say? Sorry, her temper is bad enough that she killed her sister for scaring me? That’s almost as crazy as the dinosaur hybrid that you were sitting on and using as a fidget toy. You just went back to picking at the dirt on her spines. It was better for you to just keep your head down at work. You may have been perfectly protected inside the enclosure but you still needed to maintain good relationships with your coworkers. Workplace politics were a nightmare and you wanted to keep the headache to a minimum.

As the days went on, you and the I. rex got back into a routine. Snuggles, training, snuggles, feeding, training, lunch break, snuggles, training, snuggles, go home, repeat. The remaining hybrid seemed to luxuriate in the fact that she was the only one getting your attention. She managed to look even more pleased than usual when you praised her for good behavior and rubbed up against you softly when it was time to snuggle. You always smelled like her whenever you left her enclosure. She made sure of it, much to your chagrin. The good news was that since you stank of animal musk and blood from her food, your coworkers avoided you. It was great after an exhausting day of training a fairly mentally unstable dinosaur.

You were at the island’s dentist for a regular checkup when you received the news of the I. rex’s escape. You had taken a half day and done all of the necessary care for your charge that morning. You had just finished spitting out the fluoride rinse when you received a text from the handler alert system. You rushed to the paddock in your company issued car and then wandered through the trashed parking lot with a stunned expression. You saw the other trainer, who you now remember was named Owen, and hurried over to him. You were met with significantly more hostility than you expected when he turned to greet you.

“How did your animal manage to be so poorly trained that she would unnecessarily attack and then escape?” He demanded.

What? This was so not your fault. You had done your due diligence and he and your boss’s boss had been the ones to barge in and get people killed with their carelessness.

“Hey, that’s not fair! No one notified me that they were going into her pen! I use the maintenance door like a normal person. It isn’t an issue when you follow proper handling protocol. Besides, you wouldn’t want strangers going into the raptor pen, would you? You can’t even go in there safely. At least I’m able to physically handle my charge.” You said a little more aggressively than intended.

“Yeah? Well at least I can keep all of mine alive.” He barked.

You didn’t even realize that you had decked him until you felt your fist connect with his jaw. You were livid. He had some nerve to talk to you about the second I. rex when he didn’t even know how to do clicker training correctly. It was no wonder that his training program was slow and ineffective. His animals were confused by the lack of consistency and it damaged their trust with him.

“That was a low blow and you know it. I need to get my rex and bring her back. Stay out of my way. You already screwed up enough.” You spat.

You stormed off to get your training equipment from your locker and quickly got changed into your trainer uniform. You didn’t need a stupid looking vest like Owen to be a professional. You actually knew what you were doing. Once you were properly geared up, you walked to the spot where she had disappeared into the trees. You rolled your eyes when you saw Owen and your boss’s boss talking. You knew that they found each other attractive and you had heard through the grapevine that they had gone on a date months ago. She could do way better than him. You made a mental note to find a kind way to tell her that she needs more self respect if she wants to meet someone that will treat her properly and respect her as a human being.

You turned your mind to the task at hand and began following the footprints that the I. rex had left behind. You walked and walked until you saw a broken gyrosphere and a dead ankylosaurus. You grimaced. It reminded you of the scene left behind after the incident with her sister. You weren’t entirely sure if she had eaten the people in the ride but you tried not to dwell on it. You had a job to do, after all.

You continued following her tracks into the large herbivore enclosure where you found her slaughtering the last apatosaurus in the area. You gasped at the bloody scene. She was surrounded by dead and dying herbivores and covered in their blood. She must have heard you. She looked up at you and seemed incredibly pleased with herself. She had the expression of a puppy that had proudly gotten into trouble. She turned back to the apatosaurus and quickly slashed her open. You were already familiar with the routine but that didn’t make it any more comforting when she carried over the largest liver that you had ever laid eyes on. She carefully laid the liver down at your feet before nuzzling your stomach with the tip of her snout. She began happily rumbling like she always would when she brought you what she felt was a tasty treat.

You gently began petting her scales. What else could you do? Despite the fact that she was covered in blood and had escaped, she was being very cute. You sighed and just watched her happy expression as you petted her. You loved your charge to pieces, regardless of what she did. She’s an animal and using human morality to judge her isn’t fair. You know that she’s smart but she isn’t human. You just kept petting her before deciding to speak to her.

“There’s my big sweetie. You made me so worried! We need to get you home. I need you to be good and follow me, alright? You know what to do. You’re a good dinosaur.” You cooed at her.

You carefully pulled out the target that you had trained her to follow and made sure to catch her attention with it. You began walking in the direction of her enclosure and relaxed a bit when you heard her following you. You were about three miles away from the pen and you weren’t sure how well it would hold her. You felt her nuzzle against your side as you both walked and you gently patted her nose. You reached for your radio and called in.

“We’re on our way back. Have the doors reinforced and open for us. We’ll be there in an hour or so.”

[monstersholygrail]

You had no idea why out of all the students in your History class, your Orc Professor had chosen you to be his TA. You were nearly failing the class and weren’t sure you were really interested in the history of medieval clubs. The class was so not what you were expecting it to be about so your interest had been lost for like, a long time now. He also made you do all this super hard work like grade papers you didn’t understand. But hey, it gave you the answers sometimes so it wasn’t all bad.

Plus your professor was super freaking hot. You were positive his arms could crush you like a grape and his big squishy pecs could suffocate you. You wanted him so damn bad. So you didn’t even really mind all the icky boring work. Especially because when you didn’t get something, which was often, he’d come up behind you, his hot breath fanning the shell of your ear, and help work you through it. You wondered what else he could help you work through.

So after class when your professor asks you to help bring a big pile of exams that need grading back over to his house, you of course agree to it. Being in the city, there were barely any people who actually had cars. So you weren’t surprised when your Orc Professor leads you out of the school and down to the subway, half the pile of exams in your arms.

But you were surprised about the fact that the subway car was basically full as you both walk in. Just about everybody was standing, holding onto a rail and crowding around each other. You wanted to weep. No way could you carry all these papers for the entire ride.

“Back there, an open seat!” Your Orc Professor points out, though you can’t see it. His ginormous height clearly an advantage in situations like this.

A spark of relief shoots through you at his kindness. Hot and sweet? What a combination. But when he takes the seat for himself, you raise a brow. He shifts the papers in his hands and pats one of his thick thighs.

“C’mere and sit on my lap. That way we can both relax for the ride,” he rasps, his demand sending a heat through you.

Your pussy gushes with arousal and the moment you straddle one of his thighs you can’t stop yourself from clenching down around nothing. The subway shoots forward a few seconds later and you’re pushed back into your Professor’s chest. His free hand immediately wraps around your wide waist. You try and stay deathly still, face growing red. You shouldn’t find this so fucking sexy but you can feel the heat radiating off your pussy and onto his thigh.

If there was any doubt left he could feel your heat it dissipates instantly when your Orc Professor tightens his arm around your plush waist, only to lift his leg, pressing his meaty thigh harder against your pussy. A small moan leaves you, and before you have the chance to die in horror, Orc Professor growls lowly in his chest.

A sharp gasp puffs out of you as your Professor starts bouncing his leg in time with the rapid shaking of the subway car. Each jump of his leg hitting your clit just right. You arch into it, moving in tempo and grinding down on his thigh. Every rock of your hips has waves of pleasure pulsing out from your fat soaked cunt. You can feel yourself leak onto his beige slacks and you relish in the stain that’ll be left when you stand. Leaving your own mark on him in anyway you can.

The subway car rocks, shaking roughly with its speed and it sends your body up and down his rock hard thigh. Your throat aches with the restraint of holding in your moans as you grind your clit roughly into the material that separates you from what you really want. You throw your head back, eyes glazed over in indescribable pleasure and meet his intense and lustful stare. It has your belly tightening and you grind down even harder.

“Go on and cum for me like the pretty little slut you are. Just like I know you do f’me in class,” he purrs in your ear.

Your eyes widen in shock, never realizing he had known what you were doing all those times behind your TA’s desk. How you’d watch him teach, the way his shirt would strain against his muscles, and you couldn’t help but touch yourself to the sight. You thought you were so subtle every time you came in class. Guess not.

With his permission, you explode all over his thigh, creating an even bigger mess left on his slacks. Your jaw drops and before you can make a peep your Orc Professor is crashing his mouth against yours in a sloppy kiss that only makes you cum even harder. Body shaking against his you let the waves of ecstasy sweep over you.

The ding of the subway breaks up your kiss and you look up in a daze to see the car unloading passengers who are at their stop. Orc Professor gives a directing pat to your pussy and your body jolts in his arms. He juts his chin forward.

“This is our stop. Good thing too or I would’ve had to bend you over and fuck you raw in front of everyone.”

He pulls you up off him, leaving your weak body to fend for itself. You eye the stain on his slacks with pride and stumble after him like a fawn. Glancing around you, you start to wonder what it would’ve been like if this wasn’t your stop and you feel yourself getting all turned on again. Who can blame you when you have the world’s sexiest Orc Professor?

[dersite-day-dreamer]

The bass thrummed through your chest like a second heartbeat as the final notes of the metal concert crashed through the Darkmoon Faire grounds. Your ears were ringing, your voice hoarse from singing along, and you felt absolutely alive. The crowd around the stage was a chaotic mix of Horde and Alliance, all usual tensions forgotten in the shared euphoria of the music.

As people began to disperse toward the carnival games and food vendors, you felt someone's presence behind you—solid, warm, and radiating heat even in the cool island breeze.

"Quite a show," rumbled a deep voice that seemed to resonate in your bones.

You turned to find yourself looking up—way up—at an orc warrior. He was massive, with green skin marked by traditional tattoos that traced down his muscular arms. His dark hair was pulled back in a topknot, and his tusks were adorned with silver rings that caught the flickering torchlight. But it was his eyes that held you: amber and surprisingly gentle despite his fearsome appearance.

"Best concert I've seen at the Faire," you managed, trying not to stare too obviously at the way his leather vest hung open, revealing his broad chest.

His lips quirked into a smile. "First time I've been. My guild mates convinced me to take a break from campaigning." He extended a hand—large enough to engulf yours completely. "Garok."

"Nice to meet you, Garok." You gave him your name, feeling the careful control in his grip as he shook your hand, conscious of his strength.

"Can I buy you a drink?" he asked, gesturing toward the tavern near the boardwalk. "Unless you're meeting someone..."

"No one," you said, perhaps a bit too quickly. "A drink sounds great."

The tavern tent was crowded but you found a corner table, and Garok returned with two mugs of the Faire's signature brew—something dark and spiced that warmed you from the inside. You talked easily, discovering he was a warrior from Orgrimmar who'd spent the last months in too many battles and needed to remember what he was fighting for. You shared your own story, and he listened with an intensity that made you feel like you were the only person in the room.

"You want to walk?" he asked after your second drink, his voice lower now, intimate. "The Faire is better at night."

You nodded, and he offered his arm—a surprisingly courtly gesture. You took it, feeling the solid muscle beneath the leather, and let him guide you out into the night.

The Darkmoon Faire was transformed after dark. Lanterns bobbed in the breeze, casting dancing shadows. The carousel music mixed with distant laughter and the crash of waves against the island's shore. Garok led you past the game booths and toward the quieter edge of the grounds where the beach met the carnival.

"I should tell you," he said, stopping and turning to face you, "I find you very attractive. But if this is just a pleasant evening of conversation, that's good too. I don't want to assume—"

You stopped his words by stepping closer, close enough that you had to tilt your head back to meet his eyes. "I don't want it to be just conversation."

His smile was slow, almost predatory, but his touch was gentle as he cupped your face with one large hand. "Then I'm a very fortunate orc tonight."

When he kissed you, it was careful at first, mindful of his tusks, but you pressed closer and he groaned, deepening the kiss. His arms came around you, lifting you easily against him, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers finding the tie in his hair and loosening it.

"My camp," he breathed against your lips, "is just through the trees. Private."

"Show me," you whispered back.

He carried you like you weighed nothing, moving through the shadows beneath the trees to where he'd set up a tent away from the main campgrounds. It was spacious inside, with furs laid over bedrolls, and he set you down carefully before lighting a small lantern that cast everything in warm gold.

"Last chance to change your mind," he said, though his hands were already tracing down your sides, pulling you close again.

You answered by pulling him down into another kiss, and this time there was no hesitation from either of you. His hands were everywhere—large and warm and knowing—and he took his time learning every curve of your body with a warrior's focused intensity. When he laid you back on the furs, his weight above you was thrilling rather than frightening, and the way he whispered your name like a prayer made you feel powerful.

The night stretched out in pleasure and warmth, his strength tempered with surprising tenderness, and when you finally lay tangled together in the aftermath, listening to the distant sounds of the Faire and the ocean, you traced the tattoos on his chest lazily.

"Stay until morning," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I'll buy you breakfast. The faire donuts are worth the stomachache."

You laughed, snuggling closer into his warmth. "I'll hold you to that."

Outside, the Darkmoon Faire continued its eternal carnival, but in this moment, you'd found something more rare than any prize at the games—a connection that burned brighter than any torch, if only for one perfect night under the stars.

[ballad-of-birdy-lamb]

can i have something spicy or suggestive regarding the ex pops from outlast trials? (Especially the pitcher) for………… science 👉🏽👈🏽 take ur time though 💕

You're still very lovable.

The Pusher/ Pitcher/ Night Hunter/ Big Grunt/ Screamer/ Berserker x Gender Neutral! Reader smut headcanons Summary: basic headcanons of each of the ex-pop's kinks Content warnings: all characters are amab, reader has no description of sex (insert whatever you want), size difference, drug use, talk of addiction, sex under the influence, fire play (Pitcher's section), noise control (Screamer's section), breath play, voyeurism, blindfold kink, overstimulation (Screamer and Big Grunt), 24/7 kink (Berserker), primal play (Berserker). Word count: 1.7k Please read all warnings!!! I have no real rules about reading this sort of content, just know that if you read it fully/like it/reblog it, that it's on you. AI was not used for the writing, please do not use any of this for AI. Ultimate Outlast masterlist Welcome board

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Pusher: 

The Pusher's view of sex is heavily influenced by his addiction, especially when it comes to his hedonistic ideals. He can't imagine a world where he's not using or experiencing some type of euphoria, so he's going to believe that mixing his drug abuse and sex is going to be the greatest thing ever. 

His natural perverted behavior makes it almost constant for you to be bent over for him. He enters the trial environment knowing that you’re there, and he’s going on and on about how the psychosis gas does more than just affect him mentally. When the Pusher finds you, he’ll try and get you as high as him in hopes that you’ll feel just as hot and bothered to get your pants off. 

The Pusher is very fluid in terms of kinks; he’s more focused on getting it on instead of focusing on what could be happening to him in the moment. Pretty obvious activities during the event would be drug use and mask use, connecting the masks to the gas tanks to get as high as possible, and going onto breath play on him being the receiving end to it. The idea of being kept from his glorious drugs makes him just a bit harder. Another kink he would love to consistently have in the scene is overstimulation. Again, the Pusher is a hedonist, he adores all extreme pleasures, so if he can go beyond his orgasm and keep experiencing ecstasy, then he loves it. 

Pitcher: 

The Pitcher's view of sex has heavily changed after his experience in the war, Murkoff, and his newfound pyromania... and, in turn, his pyrophilia. Most of his adult life has been isolated when it comes to basic and sexual connections to others, so your relationship is a bit newer to him. 

The way he treats you at the start of any relationship shows obvious signs of his past and how little he could connect with people because of it. His military service barely allowed him to properly connect to the other men in his platoon, causing his obsession with the napalm and the fires since it's the liveliest thing that doesn't give him a 'punishment' for loving. Murkoff hurts any of the ex-pop if they create a friendship they consider 'too close', so he never got too connected to anyone in the facility. What else is he expected to do in a situation as intimate as sex? 

Compared to the other ex-pop and them having sex wherever and whenever, the Pitcher is private due to possessiveness. He won’t try to do anything to you during the trials from the fact his desire for you is similar to his desire for a fire: he wants it only for himself and doesn’t like the idea of his favorite thing being in anyone else’s view. No matter how possessive the Pitcher is though, he’ll always treat you in a softer, more romantic way as a basic standard. 

A lot of your sex life is dependent on how you react to his obsessive behavior. The relationship more likely doesn’t have something normal about it. Obviously, the Pitcher doesn’t like things in any normal way. You’re almost equally as important to him as the fire he loves so dearly. So, why not mix the two together? The thought of your skin being burned, your fingertips touching the light of a candle, or even keeping his hands tied in the middle of a burning barrel gets him hard. 

The Pitcher would obviously love temperature play, both on your hand and his. If he’s feeling like he needs to relax a little more from a trial, then he’d prefer you being the one to run small flames over his fingertips and following the pain of the warmth with the run of an ice cube. The Pitcher also loves oils. He loves the difference between the smell of gasoline and burning alcohol and the soft scents of lavender on your body. It makes you look so soft. 

Night Hunter:  

The Night Hunter is very similar to the Pitcher when it comes to loneliness, but he's ten times more sexual compared to him. They're two sides of the same coin; the Night Hunter specifically desires connection and physical touch without some type of outwardly violent actions towards him. 

When it comes to entering the relationship, he more likely has grown accustomed to his sexual loneliness, so he's going to think you both should become more sexual earlier than most couples. The Night Hunter gropes you as much as he possibly can, catch any sight of your body whenever you bend in a specific way, and he’s going to try and get any and all licks and kisses on your skin. Part of what makes the relationship slightly difficult is the fact that he puts his sexual gratification above the romantic dynamic. 

The Night Hunter is into blindfolding you, for obvious reasons. As much as he despises the place he’s been forced into in terms of the constant use for the night vision, he loves the idea that you can’t see what he’s going to do to you and it also ties into his voyeurism. He likes the advantages he has over others when it comes to his night vision, and he will use it to look at you when you masturbate. Rough and violent sex is another thing he’s into; he loves the fact he can hurt you as much as he wants during the act and you wouldn’t fight back. 

Big Grunt/Danny: 

Danny tries to some degree to be romantic but has a habit of regressing back into degrading you. Any sign of something attractive to him will be met with a sweet name and calling you a whore whose only existence is to tempt him. As much as he’ll put passion into the degrading names he calls you, he adores you in a weirdly romantic way. 

The way Danny interacts with the concept of a romantic and sexual relationship is very murky. He has desires for someone’s touch, their love, and their attention in a very personal aspect, but he has a habit of being too rough when it comes to any of it. Danny holds the dynamic to a set standard for you, expecting your love and adoration, but has a bad habit of never holding himself to that same standard. 

Danny is in love with size differences, if anything, most of his fantasies he thinks of to get off is the differences in your height. He likes how easy it is to pick you up and fuck you, making you feel good in ways other men couldn’t. Another thing he would be into is objectification. Being able to use you like you’re a fleshlight, forcing you into different positions simply because you’re an object only meant for his pleasure. The two go hand in hand with his overstimulation kink. Why would he care how many times the person he’s using as a fleshlight has cum? It doesn’t matter if you’ve cum over five times just from his treatment of you, you’re not anything but something meant to make him feel good. 

Screamer: 

The sexual relationship for the Screamer is insanely difficult as most of his energy is constantly put into keeping himself mobile or simply surviving. If anything, it’s very rare for you to have any type of sexual encounter because of his low libido from the lack of sleep. 

Something that will annoy the Screamer to no end is the lack of what he considers proper connection because of Murkoff. He can’t properly listen to the sounds you create when he’s making you feel good or how he can’t remember most of the intimate moments you have together since his brain is barely holding himself together. So, most of his treatment of you is towards keeping you quiet. 

The Screamer is obsessed with noise control. It seems so obvious for you to hold back your noises for him, but he -strangely- loves the smallest sounds you let out. He likes hearing your heartbeat get faster as he thrusts into you, the gasps you let out in desperation to keep him sane for a minute more. Another thing he loves that doesn’t work well with his noise control kink is his obsession with overstimulation. The Screamer loves the idea that you can’t properly hold yourself together, that you both feel that you can’t stop because you want the other to feel good. 

Berserker: 

Someone like the Berserker heavily views sex as some type of sacred thing. He never gets any because of his brute strength and his syphilis problem, so he’s grown extra desperate for any type of sexual contact. It usually makes him believe that he must go through a kind of ritual to receive it. He’ll make you hear his crude attempts at being nice, hearing him call you in a specific way that sounded slightly sexual in undertone, and then pouncing once he believes the ritual will give him something pleasurable. 

The Berserker is someone who heavily guilt trips you into having sex with him. He's made comments towards Reagents about how they're horrible for fearing him since he's blind, so it’s likely to become a problem with your relationship. It’s also an issue because of him being pent up for so long, he genuinely can’t help himself, he gets hard over anything. 

The Berserker is really into primal play; he loves the idea that neither of you can fight against the urges you both have when it comes to each other. Also, because he can’t keep it down for more than one second when he’s around you. It goes hand in hand with his other kink: 24/7. The Berserker likes the concept of having full control of you and however he wants to use you. If he suddenly gets the urge to have sex with you, you will mandatorily have to oblige. Size difference is simply mandatory; it’s not like you’re going to get any bigger to meet his size, so obviously that’s something he likes. He loves the idea that he can just push and pull you around however he wants. 

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[mutilatedscrap]

Am I the only one who fantasies about the screamer? He's just a scared little guy who wants some quiet 🥺 I'd let him bury himself in my arms while I cover his ears~

Love both you guys btw! ❤️

Likely— but then a very short story sparked— where, as the reader, are going to do checkups and one of your more difficult patients pulls on your heartstrings, needing to comfort them in this difficult time, causing small hearing damages…

You wipe your thumb across his smooth scalp, cleaning away the blood dripping from your right ear.

You’re certain you’ll never hear out of it again; the scream had been deafening—worse by the fact that he’d delivered it directly into your ear.

With the pain and throbbing rising in your skull you think—

Was it worth it?

The trembling, twitchy figure in your lap proved that it was.

You watch as he curls into a fetal position, breathing heavily, his head tilting to follow your touch. You make sure to hold him close to your chest, one hand shielding his ear while the other guides him to listen to your heartbeat.

save for his ragged panting and the occasional small whimper,

It is quiet now.

[ballad-of-birdy-lamb]

Love is not a victory march.

Chris Walker/ Richard Trager/ Jeremy Blaire/ Eddie Gluskin/ Leland Coyle/ Franco Barbi/ Otto Kress/ Dr. Easterman/ Clyde Perry/ Pusher/ Berserker/ Big Grunt/ Screamer/ Pitcher/ Night Hunter/ Snitch/ Erik/ Noakes/ Warden/ Biter x Fem! Afab! Reader smut mini fics Summary: Old man pussy scenarios for all the Outlast men. Content warnings: dead dove do not eat, afab reader, all characters aren't meant to be trans but can be interpreted as such, dubcon and noncon themes, reader's position switches between dom and sub for each character, drug use, aphrodisiacs, bloodplay, pain kink, size difference, free use, overstimulation, fingering, scissoring, sex toys, blind folds, object insertion (non-sex toys), power play, shoe humping, daddy kink, reader is kinda used as a fleshlight, cunnilingus, squirting. Word count: 5.8k Please read all warnings!!! I have no real rules about reading this sort of content, just know that if you read it fully/like it/reblog it, that it's on you. AI was not used for the writing, please do not use any of this for AI. Welcome board Ultimate Outlast masterlist

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

Chris Walker is someone who obsesses over the size difference between you both and the blood produced from it. 

"Little piggy," he groaned as his fingers moved in and out of your cunt, a ring of blood slowly forcing at his knuckles. Your mouth gaped as he tried forcing his fingers deeper inside of you; you knew it wasn't possible, but you don't know if he did. 

“Chris-,” you whined, trying to move your hips away from his thick fingers. “It hurts.” 

“You don’t have to hide from me,” Chris muttered as he forced your legs apart, getting a better look at the ring of blood that continued to grow. Your legs flail around in a desperate attempt to stop him from hurting you any further. 

Just as the pain was reaching its peak, so did the pleasure. His thick fingers pressed and brushed against your g-spot, forcing waves after waves of gratification through your lower body. You couldn’t figure out if you wanted to sob from your agony or moan from the bliss. Chris kept pushing and pulling you apart, watching as your body shook and tried everything it could to escape the mixed signals. The blood had started to inch down his fingers and create a ring around your hole. 

“Pretty pig.” 

Jeremy Blaire is someone who would punish a Murkoff patient for acting out. 

"Couldn't ju-st cooperate, huh?" Jeremy groaned as he brought his hips down onto the toy stuffed into both of your cunts. His hands were planted on either side of your head, allowing him to loom over you.  

Each time he thrust himself down onto the object, it pressed against that sweet bundle of nerves deep inside you. “Sir-,” you gasped just before you brought your cuffed hands down to his suit jacket. Catching a glimpse of where the two of you met, you got to finally see the damage he had done to both of you. His cunt was an angry red and smeared with your juices, any semblance of the pleasure not affecting him was obviously not working. He jerked your hands back up over your head, keeping his hold on your wrists. "Please- ngh- I can't! I'm sorry!" 

"Oh, you can't- fuck! Handle any type of punishment now?" He mocked before curling over you and moaning into your neck. Jeremy jerked his hips against yours, as though he was trying to get any feeling to your already overstimulated clit. 

"Mr. Blaire, please! I'm sorry, I won't be bad again," you sobbed as the room started to fill with the sound of squelching. Neither of you knew who the sound was coming from. Jeremy's cheeks began to grow rosy as his grip on your body grew tighter. 

His brows were scrunched together, a mix of anger and pleasure making his expression unreadable. His body began to betray him; his thighs were trembling, and his hold on your hands had started to weaken. 

"S-should have thought of that before you acted out," Jeremy muttered as each thrust against you made a louder squelching sound. A man as put together as him couldn’t even fight against the pleasure he was trying to punish you with. At least you have that. 

Richard Trager is someone who would finger you while recording you with your own camera. 

"Oh, come on, buddy. I'm not asking much of you," Trager scoffed. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you tried keeping your noises down. Once, twice, thrice you had already cum? Each wave of pleasure intermixed and felt like it was never ending. "Can't you let yourself speak? Huh?" 

You turned your eyes down between your legs, finally seeing what damage he had done. Three of his fingers had been stuffed into your sex, the rough flesh dragged against your walls in an aggressively slow motion. Your lips were forced together, as though you needed to make sure you didn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he can make you lose yourself. 

“You just need a little attention to get all better,” he giggled and pressed harder against your g-spot, his thumb starting to roll over your clit. Heavy breaths escaped from your nose, making Trager grin even wider and began to go harder on you. “Gotta get you to forget the father’s little teachings.” 

“I-ve forgotten,” you whimper. Trager tilted his head and stared at you for a long while. Your hips thrust against his hand, forcing your body to experience the smallest sparks of pleasure. 

“Are you sure?” He teased and pressed his finger pads into your g-spot once more, forcing your hips to inch closer to the edge of the wheelchair. Out of desperation, you nodded hastily. 

“I guess a doctors gotta stop when a patient says,” he huffed and pulled his hand from between your legs. A sigh of gratitude escaped your lungs, finally letting you experience some end to your torture. 

Trager knelt before you, watching as your body started to relax. A ‘tsk’ sound left his lips. 

"Now that you're all done," Trager remarked, straightening himself before he started to untie his surgical apron. Your lids fluttered as you watched the thick dark fabric be set back on the sinks edge. He freed you from the chair, laughing as you slumped from finally being allowed to relax. "Oh, don't act like I did all that to you. You're just being a baby."  

His hand went to tilt your head back up to him, forcing you to look at him. “Now, can’t you help your doctor out a little?” Trager mused, pulling you down to kneel on the floor, finally allowing you to see his sex in its full glory. 

Eddie Gluskin would use your body in a way that made it seem like he was trying to breed you.

"Darling...," Eddie cooed or at least tried to, the corners of his lips trembled as he drove his hips to jut up against yours. It had to have been the third time that night that you had cum, Eddie, on the other hand, went beyond your knowledge of how many he got. Looking down between your legs, you could barely see the sensitivity of your sex's meeting. His cunt was an angry red and gleamed in the low light that managed to get through the dirty windows, streaks of white cum were shown over him. You couldn't tell if that was solely from his body or yours. "I know a good woman like you is disturbed by something like this, I'm truly sorry, but- mmgh!- we have to make sure it sticks."  

Your head tilted back as he ground against your cunt, forcing gasps and moans from your lips. As your grip on his arms grew tighter, he started to apologize more. "This is for the best, darling. You'll be such a good mother," he went on. His lips quickly pressed together to muffle any moans that tried slipping past his lips. 

Your eyes had started to fill with tears as his groans got louder, his words slurring with each thrust. "You'll lo-ok so beautiful -ngh!- pregnant with my child," Eddie gasped as he began to move faster, his chest rising and falling quicker than ever. "I pro-mise- oh darling! I'll treat you so well when you're swelled full." 

Suddenly, Eddie hiked your leg higher to have your knee set on his shoulder, forcing a cry from your lungs as you came. His eyes stuck to your face as you froze up, your thighs trembling as wave after wave of pleasure seeped through your body and dripped down your cunt. His mind reeled at the sight as if it was the first time he had seen you like this. 

“You can go again, can’t you, my love?” 

Leland Coyle is someone who would force you to let him hump your boots. 

It felt slightly awkward to be in the situation you were in now. Coyle sat at your feet, his bare cunt on your shoes, military boots to be exact. Before you had him down on his knees like this, he managed to get you cornered in the police station, telling you that he needed a little favor from "a sweetheart like you". 

Your fingers tightened their grasp on the edge of the chair you sat on; your eyes stuck on Coyle as he jerked his hips against the leather of your shoes. “You can’t loosen up?” He muttered before angling his head back down against your knee, thrusting his hips against your boot once more. 

Your lip's part to try making some type of noise, but nothing came out. Your unhumped foot inched away from his spread legs, your heel meeting the leg of the chair. “Didn’t realize I was stiff at all,” you try explaining before relaxing your foot as much as you could. Your eyes trailed down Coyle’s body, letting you see the salt and pepper hair trailing his chest and stomach down to his cunt. “You can’t move any faster?” 

Coyle tilted his head back up to look at you; his brows furrowed as he grunted. “None of my movements matters to you,” he said before gasping, his hips jutting and trembling against your boot. The wet sounds of his cunt started to grow louder as he came. He stilled as wave after wave of pleasure washed over his lower body, small spurts of cum dripped down the toe of your boot. 

Your chest con caved, letting you get some type of relaxation from the worry that Coyle would stop in the middle of his attempt at reaching his orgasm to punish you. You don’t fully know what made you feel so much better about this entire scene. Maybe it was the fact that he looked so much weaker now. Maybe you had grown comfortable with this, who knows? His weakened state made you gain some type of pride in what you were going to say next. “A real man would be able to go again.” 

Franco Barbi is the type of person to have you fuck him to get his attitude right.  

"Oh, Mommy," he groaned, his back arching as you drew your fingers through his sopping folds. Pale pink and dusted with orangey blonde hair, his sex gleamed with enjoyment. Your smile grew wider at his pleas, making you feel him up like your hands had never felt his body before. Your greedy touch drove over his enlarged clit, being as gentle as possible to make Franco a little more desperate for you than he’d willingly admit. Your free hand traversed up his stomach and chest, kneading the flesh. 

"I won't b-e bad again," Franco arched into your hand, trying to force your fingers into his cunt. His white pants were set around his ankles, acting as restraints for you to keep him down. He began to babble on and on as you slowly pressed your fingers into his hole. His -previously pale pink- lips were a slightly deeper shade from your own ravenous ones. You had barely done anything, and he was already like this? 

"How am I supposed to believe you?" You hum, drinking in the sight of his hands scratching at the bedding below him. He grabbed desperately, clawing at anything he could reach as your finger pads caressed his g-spot. "You can't keep your hands to yourself but you're wanting this to end when I haven't even done anything." 

Franco barely registered your words as he started to arch his hips into your fingers, forcing you knuckles deep into him and pressing against that sweet spot inside of him. His brows scrunched together tightly as he whimpered from pleasure. “I pr-omise I’ll be —oh fuck— so good for you,” he sobbed, his hips trembling at your touch. 

The corner of your lips curled upward as he begged on and on, your aggressive movements against the most sensitive spots in his sex. “We can keep going until you can’t anymore,” you say simply. 

Otto Kress is someone who would have you, and Arora dominate him. 

“Go faster,” Arora demanded of you, trailing her hands over Otto’s disheveled hair as she watched him through the mirror. You stood behind him, holding his hips in place as you thrust against him. His thick brows scrunched together from the agonizing pleasure you and Arora were guiding him through. 

“Darling,” he rasped, looking up at Arora’s face in the mirror before turning his head back to glance at you. His fingers trembled and danced over the counter, trying to find some security to get him through the pleasure. “I don’t think I can handle any more of this.” 

Arora rolled her eyes and let out a huff of laughter. “You are such a strong man, Otto,” she teased, her hand coming to soothe him as he began to tremble again. “You can keep going.” 

Otto put in no effort to fight against you or her, just letting you thrust into his already dripping cunt at a faster rate, but his lips curled to try and plead for mercy on his body. It only met with you and Arora teasing him about building his resistance. 

You looked down at the strap on, finally seeing the ring of cum starting to develop around the hilt of the toy. You grinned as his grip on the counter tightened. “A strong man like you can’t take any of this?” You giggled, pressing the tip of the toy against the soft bundle of nerves deep inside him. 

Dr. Easterman is someone who would make you finger each other as a sign of "natural dominance".  

"You have to understand your own peak," he slurred, his thick fingers trying to work deeper into you, trying to find that sweet spot deep inside. "There is no... growth if you don't- fuck!- know the highs you can reach." 

You tried your hardest to sit still, you really did... but all the things he was trying to put into your head only let you sit still for a moment. 

"You can't leave me," Easterman moaned, his brows scrunched together from your success in pleasuring him. His thighs trembled, obvious that he wanted —needed— to close his legs around your hand, around all the perfect pleasure you managed to give him... but he kept strong and slid his legs wider. The widening allowed you to see the ring of creamy white cum around the base of your fingers. "I'm the only one who can give you this high. Don't let anyone but your daddy gives you something like this." 

You could only manage so much at this point; barely any of his words got into your head. His finger pads brushed against all the right spots inside you, managing to mold you into a moaning mess. 

With some type of morbid strength through the intense pleasure, Easterman brought his unused hands to your thigh, bringing your attention back to his darkened eyes. "You wouldn't abandon me like that, right?" He asked, his breath quickening as he tried swallowing his own moans. "You wouldn't abandon your daddy like that." 

"N-no, sir," you answer hastily, a sob morphing your words together. His back arched suddenly into you, his hips shaking as spurts of cum started to cover your hand, flowing down your fingers and to the shallow of your palm. Your own orgasm followed, both forcing you into creating a cacophony of whimpers. 

Easterman's chest slowed before he took a draw from his cigarette, leaning back in his chair as though you had never affected him at all. As the smoke climbed up from his lips, he turned his attention back to you and opened his thighs. "Clean up your mess." 

Clyde Perry is someone who would use your pleasure against both of you in interrogations. 

"I'll only stop once you've given what Murkoff needs," he stated as he pushed the vibrating toy deeper into your cunt, his breath brushing against your cheek as he pushed your knees to your chest. 

"I- don't have any-thi-ngh!" You gasp, trying to fight against the slow buildup in your lower stomach. The toy had somehow been stuffed into you but poked out far enough to rub against Clyde’s swollen clit. 

Your legs began to tremble in his hold, trying to fight against his strength to escape the unending pleasure. “Please, Cl-yde,” you sob, “I can’t go agai-ngh!” 

He rolled his eyes, whether from his annoyance or gratification couldn’t be figured out. As he opened his mouth to degrade you once more, he suddenly curled over you, the stimulation on his sex becoming too much for even him to handle. Spurt after spurt of cum dripped down his pussy and onto yours and for whatever reason, it made your face grow warm. 

His hips started to shudder in the same way yours did, jerking against the toy in a similar way to you only wish you could. His grip on the back of your knees grew tighter, trying to make it seem that he wasn’t affected by anything being done to you both. “Oh fuck- only when you give me some-thing to work with,” Clyde muttered, tears of ecstasy filling his eyes. 

The Pusher is someone who would love to take advantage of you when he manages to get you in a trial.  

His thin arms held your legs apart; a wild laughter filled the quiet of the darkened storeroom. "Oh, baby," he moaned and set his hips down on yours. The feeling of his short pubic hair and folds made you gasp, the sight of him above you waved and altered from the drugs he sprayed in your face. 

Your drugged state barely lets you move but with an insane amount of force and fear, you brought a weak hand up to his chest to try pushing him away. Of course, that didn't do much at all. It just made him hold your hand to his body, letting you feel the indents in his chest from his ribs. 

"Come on! You wouldn't fight against your doctor giving you a shot, would you?!" The Pusher giggled as he started to move against you, almost waking the nerves in your sex. "You keep it up and I'll think you don't like me." 

You really didn't, but you couldn't manage to voice that now. The gentleness of his movement's changed into volatile thrusts against you, pulling -almost exaggerated- moans from behind his mask. His head jerked up as he grounded against you, his ecstasy making him tremble. 

Each second that passed as he rubbed his sopping sex against yours, your body started to get warmer. The Pusher noticed this instantly. “Like what I made for you?” He groaned, hoping you would praise him for making you feel so good. “Wanna make sure you feel a little good too.” 

The Berserker is someone who the doctors would have you de-stress. 

Whatever care the Murkoff doctors had towards you very obviously was lacking now. The Berserker crouched over you, your legs pointing in two different directions against his body. The metal gauntlet sat beside your face while his uncovered hand was holding your waist in place under him; his fingers stretched over your stomach in a possessive —all consuming— way. 

It seemed there was no end to the pleasure he craved; it had been going on for two hours at least. The doctors didn't give you much warning of what would happen, but it's not like they ever have. "Lie down. I'll do the rest," is all you remember the Berserker saying before you twisted into different positions for his pleasure. 

Each thrust of his hips against yours brought a pleasure you had entirely forgotten about. It had been so long that each spark of ecstasy felt overwhelming to a degree that made you tear up. “So sweet,” the Berserker muttered, a smile coming to his lips. “I make you sound pretty, don’t I?” 

You arched your back into his hand, your hips thrusting up against him in a way that made it obvious your body could barely handle the treatment of being his fleshlight. The Berserker leaned closer to you, getting his ear near your face. “Don’t I?” He repeated, his aggressive movement against you getting worse. 

“Yes!” You sob, grabbing onto the metal gauntlet out of desperation. “You make me sound so-o pretty!” 

Danny/Big Grunt is someone who loves the size difference between the two over you. 

“Ain’t even done nothing to me,” he grunted as you tried your best to pleasure him. His size was a benefit to him in terms of getting to you and pleasuring you in ways you didn’t know were possible… and it benefited him in making sure you knew you were a little too small to make him feel good, to be useful to him outside of his own entertainment. 

“My clumsy little darling,” Danny grumbled as he watched you push your fingers in and out of his sex, trying to brush over any spot inside him that might have been able to pleasure him, but you’ve done this before. You knew it wouldn’t be like that. For such a ‘romantic’ guy that obsessed over your sizes, he couldn’t experience much down there. 

Danny turned your body to let him get an easier hand at your own sex. “I’ll show you,” he mumbled as his large fingers prodded at your cunt. Your body tensed at the feeling of his fingertips touching your body in such an intimate way. It hadn’t come yet, but you knew the pain that would happen in a couple of seconds. 

With one push, he sheathed his fingers fully into your pussy. Your lips parted in a weak cry, your lower body on fire as you closed your legs around his hands. He gave such little time for you to properly adjust to his size before he started to thrust his fingers into you… or at least try. Your cunt clenched around the foreign length within you as sniffles of pain left your body. Danny canted his head to look down at you, a smile curling the corners of his lips up. “I’ll take care of you good,” he said, his thumb turning to circle your clit, finally pulling a moan of pleasure from you. “My rabbit.” 

Danny began to push and pull different types of pleasure from your body all in the span of -what felt like- two seconds. His skilled fingers managed to find any and all spots inside you that pleased you beyond what you could handle. In a final writhe of ecstasy, you came around his fingers. “There you are,” he said with a smile. 

The Screamer is someone who obsesses over noise control during sex.  

His arms trembled as he tried to handle the pleasure you managed to give him, his fingers flitting over the speaker covering his mouth, gently touching the thin metals that caught wind of his heavy breaths. His fingertips delicately touched the speakers and wires on his chest, an obvious worry of what would happen if he got a little too into the entire scenario. 

Your vision stayed on the Screamer, a grin coming onto your lips as your free hand went to his hips. Your fingers tapped and ran over his skin, hoping to comfort him into staying silent just a little bit longer. Your other hand between his legs had started to work through his folds, your thumb circling his clit. 

The Screamer’s bright blue eyes flickered between your face and hand lost in the tangling of his closed legs, catching a glimpse of both your determination and actions. His eyes rolled back. The sound of his sopping cunt started to grow more prominent, filling you with a shining sense of pride. The Screamer’s hand that traced his body suddenly went down to your wrist, attempting to make you pause your control on his body. 

“I can’t please you?” You whispered so softly; your voice barely created any sound. The Screamer only blushed at the concept that you wanted to make him feel so good. 

The Pitcher is someone who wouldn’t want you to be seen by anyone but him. 

The flickering firelight from the Molotov bottle was strategically slanted to keep the light dim enough to keep the other ex-pop from seeing you but just bright enough to let him see you under the dark staircase. The Pitcher’s body was curled over yours, covering you in hopes that any sight of you couldn’t slip into the others' eyes. 

Your right leg was hung up over the Pitcher’s shoulder, his hand holding your ankle to make sure you couldn’t slip away if you couldn’t handle him. Your hands held your shirt up for him. The soft flesh being easily accessible to him made him tremble. His chest heaved as he thrust his cunt against yours, the aggression against your body contrasted heavily with the soft touch that trailed over your bare stomach. 

His chest rose and fell rapidly; the nozzle connected to his mouth barely did anything to muffle his rough grovel-y moans. His pale gray eyes stuck on your face, drinking up the sight of your pleasured expression. Your eyes lazily rolled into the back of your head, your brows scrunched together, your mouth languidly hung open. 

The Pitcher’s head leaned down to your throat, bending your body to get an angle that made you groan, a softened noise leaving the muzzle of his mouthpiece. Your eyes met him, trying to gather enough of your scrambled brain to speak to him. “Yo-u make me feel so good,” you whimper as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. 

You could feel the Pitcher gain pride in his chest. A newfound gleam in his eye as he started to move against you faster. He pressed his mouthpiece against your cheek, as though he was trying to kiss you, thanking you for making him feel good too. 

The Night Hunter is someone who wouldn’t know how to be nice to you. 

“Come on, honey,” the Night Hunter cackled as he forced the handle of the machete in and out of your sex. The part of the handle that had started to morph into the blade had grown a ring of white cum. Your body was wrung dry, so many orgasms forced out of your body to the extent that you only leaned into him, only really moving when he managed to make you orgasm again. “Can’t shine a little brighter for me?” 

The Night Hunter somehow had the ability to run all the way through the brightest sections of the trial environment just to get your pants off, and it was baffling to you. Slobbery kisses, biting every part of your bare skin, and threatening you every time you trembled. 

“I can’t,” you whimper, your lip trembling as the end of the handle pressed against the spongy ball of nerves. “I can’t cum again.” 

He let out another raspy laugh and started to move the object faster inside of you. Little effort was put into immediately reprimanding you; all of his force was trying to get you as sensitive as possible. The new pace managed to make your legs quiver and start to inch closer together; your body didn’t seem to consider the possibility of getting cut up. 

In some final desperation to appeal the Night Hunter’s endless lust, your pussy seized around the handle. “You make it too fun for me,” he grinned and started to move again. 

The Snitch is someone who would think him being blindfolded is so hot. 

“Come on, say it,” you tease as you press your chest against him. The Snitch shivered at the feeling of your soft flesh in his lap, his hands fighting against the restraints connected to the chair. 

“I don’t deserve to see you like this,” the Snitch whimpered, his hips trying to subtly grind down into the seat of the chair. The corners of your lips curled up into a smile, your joy at his desperation couldn’t be hidden by a bag over his head. He angled his head away to hide his —already hidden— embarrassment. 

“That’s right!” You say with an obvious tone of delight, your hips starting to move to grind against his thigh. Your untouched sex began to spark with pleasure, your jaw falling slack. 

“Y-you…” the Snitch trailed off as his hands fought against the restraints on the chair again. “You can only use my body to make you feel good. I can’t do it on my own.” 

You pressed a kiss to the bag over his head, your thrusts against his thigh growing faster. His own sex started to throb with the concept of what you were using him for, his body pleading with him to get you to touch him in any possible way, even though he knew there wouldn’t be anything coming to satisfy him… not until you got off using him. 

Erik is someone who wouldn’t know how to control his sounds. 

"Pleasepleaseplease-!" Erik whimpered, his chest pushing out as he ground down into your palm. Every couple of seconds, his hips jutted against your fingers, driving your fingers against that sweet spot deep inside him. 

"You have to be quiet," you muttered as you kissed the porcelain mask, pressing your lips against the bolts that held the pieces together. Of all things to be embarrassed by in the current situation he was in, Erik tipped his head away from your lips, a groan of embarrassment leaving him. "We can't keep going if you're so loud." 

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry- oh god!" He groaned as his thighs started to tremble and close. Your eyes darted to look at the false face, trying to get a good view of him. Erik's eyes flicked between your lips and your hand between his legs, his hands clenching and unclenching at random. 

Before you knew it, Erik's body tensed as he finally reached climax. His eyes grew wide as he shook and sobbed, the muscles in his thighs tensing as spurts of cum dripped onto your fingers and soaked the seat. At the sight of him, you couldn't help but groan. 

Noakes is someone who would want to keep things romantic. 

His hands slowly but surely trailed down your body, his touch so soft you almost couldn’t feel it, almost like he feared hurting you in such an intimate position. The bed made the softest creaking sound as you shifted to try touching him too. Noakes smiled at the noise. 

“I haven’t done this in such a long time,” Noakes said tenderly, his fingers coming up to brush against your cheekbone. You smiled in a similar way to him, the excitement of the entire scene playing out before you. 

“Then I got to make a good impression,” you teased before pressing a kiss to his jaw, a shaky breath leaving his lungs. Your fingers danced down his body, going over his chest, stomach, and finally to his pelvis. Noakes leaned his head back onto the thin pillow, a sigh of relaxation left his lungs as your lips pressed kiss after kiss onto his neck. 

You paused right as your fingertip brushed over his untouched clit, pulling yet another sigh from his lungs. Your chest swelled with pride as you began to touch his folds delicately. Soft moans started to leave Noakes' lips, his brows scrunching together from the pleasure starting to bubble in his pelvis. Each second that passed as you teased his sex pulled more noises from him, his hips starting to jerk against your fingers in a desperate attempt to get you to touch him more intimately. 

All the sounds that you got while touching him so carefully paled in comparison to the whimpers that you got from him once you plunged your fingers into his cunt. 

The Warden is someone who would want to please you in any and all ways. 

“I don’t please anyone like I please you,” the Warden slurred through the mask, his hands going to paw at your leg in hopes you would spread them for him to love you. You kept your eyes down on him, watching as he attempted to keep his words proper while bouncing up and down on the sex toy. 

His head grew slack as he thrust his hips down onto the toy, forcing the object back into his chubby pussy. “I can’t feel good unless it’s for you,” he whimpered, a ring of cum starting to appear at the base of the dildo. 

“That can’t be true! You’re not even trying to give me a good show,” you laugh, bringing your hand down to the top of his head to tilt him up to look at you. Though you couldn’t properly see his expression, you could feel a different aura radiating off of him at your words. 

“I promise I am!” The Warden sobbed as he moved faster against the toy, his hold on your legs growing stronger in an attempt at keeping himself up from the ecstasy. Your lips curled into a smile, a sense of pride filling your chest as he trembled. 

You suddenly pushed his shoulders back to make him lay on the floor, letting to take hold of the toy. “I gotta show you everything, don’t I?” You tease as you thrust the toy back into his hole. The Warden gasped and arched his back into your hold. “Isn’t that right? You can’t do anything correctly.” 

He whimpered out an agreement, his gratification clearly building too quickly for him to handle. “I can’t do anything right,” the Warden muttered repeatedly, his hands seeking out yours in hopes that you felt enough pity in him to hold him in a romantic way. 

The Biter is someone who would want to be destressed during a trial. 

His head turned in a jerky manner, trying to get a good view of you between his legs. He made curious clicks and trills in some encouraging way. Your lips rounded around his enlarged clit, swirling your tongue and sucking gently on the bundle of nerves. 

It took a weirdly long time to get into the position you were in now, kneeling between his legs with easy access to his dripping cunt. With enough determination, you finally got your mouth on him, a flurry of trills and gasps encouraging you to continue. You knew it must have been difficult being in the situation he was in, so you thought it would be easiest to give him something fun to calm him down. 

The Biter’s hips thrust up against your face, attempting to get your tongue deeper into his folds just before another orgasm washed over him. Your hands caressed his thighs, soothing him through all the ecstasy shooting through his body. Your tongue greedily drank up every drop of cum that squirted from his sex, adding more pleasure to his already sensitive body. 

“See how much better you feel?” You cooed, setting his leg back down to the floor. Your eyes drank up the sight of the Biter faltering steps, his body slumping as he tried gathering himself again. 

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ Holy god this took so long to write but I might make a version with the female Outlast characters with girl cocks with a male reader to even it out.

[starsandink13]

Yandere Eldritch Femboy

Your life was already complete shit. Working as a janitor for a shady organization dedicated to studying and containing horrors beyond human comprehension, cleaning up the mess that was once a person, having to run for your life on occasion from said horrors. Well now, your life got just a little bit worse-- because now you had to be the test subject and got the attention of an unearthly terror in frills and lip gloss. ---

You couldn't really talk about your work much.

When people asked, you just mumbled "government" and left it at that. However, you weren't some top secret agent or something important-- oh God no, that would imply you had some level of respect.

Instead, you were simply a janitor at some shady organization dedicated to researching, studying, and containing and occasionally neutralizing eldritch horrors far beyond mere mortal comprehension. Which meant after whatever poor sap got mauled and had his insides turn into outsides by the evil theater mask, you were sent into clean whatever remained of the victim. The pay was decent-ish enough, given the kinds of horrors you've witness on a regular basis.

It was just another regular day at the job, mopping up the remnants of the umpteenth victim to another reality-defying artifact: this time, a concrete statue. You grumbled, glowering at the statue now back in its container as you pushed bits of bone and organs into a container. Some feet away from you, two of the scientists were mumbling to each other.

"--We've ran out of new subjects."

"You're kidding me, right?"

"Wish I was. But they're getting desperate. We might need to..."

At this point you were now fully focused on their conversation, you slowed down your moping to hear it better. You watched from the corner of your eye as the first one leaned over to the second one and whispered something into his ear. The other scientist stiffened as his eyes drifted towards you.

"What is it?" You stopped in your tracks and turned to face them fully, dread pooling at the bottom of your gut.

Neither one of them said anything; they just simply at you, studying you. Before you could repeat your question, they promptly left you behind.

You chewed the inside of your cheek, clenching the mop's staff. That look....

Turning your attention back towards the mounds of gore left, you deeply sighed and resumed cleaning. Throughout the rest of the day, the conversation echoed in your head while unease loomed over you like an axe's blade.

---

A few weeks after, you've almost completely forgotten about the conversation. As you were walking down the sterile, clinical white halls of the building, a pair of high-ranking researchers stepped in your path. Their cold eyes focused on you and you stopped.

"M-may I help you with something?" You swallowed.

"(Y/N), please come with us." The one to the left, a woman with long dark hair and bangs said, looking at you through her glasses as if you were nothing but a specimen.

Knowing that refusal wasn't an option, you gave a hesitant nod of your head.

With that, they snapped to the right and you followed a few steps back.

"(Y/N), we're gonna need you to do something else besides cleaning up."

"Which is...?"

"You'll be relocated to Site 8008."

Aw shit. Site 8008: The Dollhouse.

You've heard about it now and then from passing scientists. It was a notorious location that was heavily-guarded and under constant surveillance. Anyone who entered it besides the various research teams, were either never seen again, or came out as a soupy mess of organic mess.

"Y-you're joking right?" You awkwardly laughed, your back feeling uncomfortably hot.

The somber expressions on their face said otherwise.

Fuck.

So, off to the dollhouse you went with the promise of you being granted a massive bonus-- that is if you survived.

---

"What the hell am I supposed to do again?"

"Just enter the Dollhouse and record everything that happens." Was all that the head researcher said, not looking up from his manila documents.

The truck came to a stop and the door beside you opened. Swinging your legs over, you stepped out and looked up at the towering, pastel house of nightmares. Your stomach sank to your ass as its facade leered at you, hiding its sinister energy behind a cheerful and friendly exterior.

Calling it a house would be an understatement;  it was a sprawling mansion large enough to take over an entire neighborhood. The walls were a soft mint-green with intricate gingerbread trim; a sugar-white wraparound porch connected to a big gazebo off to the left and supported by pillars as pale as giant fingerbones. Large bay windows jutted out like bulging eyes and several turrets and towers with pointed roofs reached out like fingers trying to scrape itself out of a grave. Massive bushes rife with giant roses surrounded the perimeter of the house alongside hydrangeas like rows of pastel graves. The porch swing rocked back and forth ominously as if trying to smother back malicious titterings.

You looked back at the research team once again; fear hammered against your ribs while you prayed that one of them had a change of heart and decided that you shouldn't venture inside.

But alas they just looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to meet your inevitable and gruesome end all for the sake of research. So, you stepped to the front door. Your fingers wrapped around the doorknob; the back of your neck prickled with the sense of something inside coiled up with anticipation. Swallowing thickly, you pushed open the pastel mausoleum's doors and stepped inside.

The moment you crossed into the house, you sensed the change in the air. The energy was off, the atmosphere was still like the eerie calmness before a violent tempest. Somewhere in the mansion, a grandfather clock ticked onwards and broke the otherwise suffocating silence.

The foyer was large and barren of any furniture save for the hall table beside you and the paintings of pastries, flowers, and other cutesy things. Up ahead was staircase that split off into two separate ways while the crystal chandelier loomed above your head like a storm cloud. On either side, an archway led into another room with a third just beside the stairs.

"Go further." Came the voice over the radio.

You didn't want to leave the relative safety of the foyer. You didn't want to venture further into the dwelling of whatever great and terrible monster lurked within these walls. You didn't want to meet your inevitable and horrible demise so soon. However, you couldn't disobey their orders; the guards outside were a clear enough warning if you did.

So with soft, hesitant steps, you stepped through the archway to your right. It led you into an enormous parlor with furniture a mishmash of Rococo through early twentieth-century styles: tassel lamps in dusty rose with aristocrats taking afternoon tea at its base, shelves full of varnished snuff boxes and chinoiserie vases, more paintings of idillyc sceneries set in gilded frames, and even a grand piano sequestered off to one corner. The pale pink wallpaper featured lush twilight-blue roses and the parted tasseled floral curtains revealed overcast skies, even though it had been sunny outside. 

But what caught your attention the most were the porcelain dolls. They came in all sizes, from ones barely larger than your hand to almost twice your height. They sat on ivory chairs or lounged on damask chaises-- one was even seated at the piano as if about to play.

"Uh..." You licked your lips, their glassy eyes boring into you. "Uhm... I-I'm not here to cause any trouble... I was just brought here..."

The dolls didn't move.

"Continue." The head researcher ordered.

"C-continue what?"

"Continue with the investigation."

You didn't know exactly what he meant by that, so you gave the dolls a half-hearted wave goodbye and slowly backed out, feeling them watching you as you returned to the foyer.

The air felt more charged-- cracking you could say. Every inch of your skin broke out into bumps as you felt eyes watching you from every angle. Your throat clenched up as you stood there, ears straining for any other sound beside the echoing pounding of your heart.

A sharp gasp came out of you as the radio crackled: "Continue with the investigation."

"U-understood...." You responded in a hesitant whisper, swallowing thickly.

You felt something was above your head. Your mind raced with the countless possible horrors leering back down at you; imagine the many fangs waiting to rip the skin off your bone, the slimy tentacles aching to rip your limbs off, the bulging eyes that would melt the skin off your face upon you gazing at it.

You didn't dare to look up and instead walked into the archway ahead. Outstretched in front of you was a hall filled with tall gilded mirrors polished marble flooring veined with black. Glancing over at one of the mirrors, where your reflection should have been was instead a black blot in the vague shape of your body.

"W-what's this?" You asked over the radio.

"Don't mind it; continue with the investigation."

You knew it'd be pointless to press it any further, resigning yourself to walk down the hall. Your footsteps echoed loudly. You looked at the blackened figure in the mirrors as it stared back. All of your nerves buzzed with a nervous electricity.

"Open that door." Was the order.

Your fingers wrapped around the crystal doorknob. A deep, primordial sense of fear clenched hold of you. There was something so ancient, so powerful on the other side; something that would break the minds of anyone who even caught the shortest glimpse of it.

The hinges' croaking was a death rattle as you pushed the door open. A cold air drifted through as you stared into the abyssal darkness facing you. Something was on that other side.

"Enter." The researcher demanded.

You were too paralyzed with fear to obey.

You now stood in an opulent tea room with towering and elaborate cabinets full of tea tins and sets behind shining glass. The wallpaper was a deep shade of bruise-purple and seemed to pulsate. A dark rug took up most of the floor, looking at it made you feel as if you were about to be pulled into the depths. Off in one corner stood a tall ebony pendulum clock like the Grim Reaper.

A soft breathing came to your right. You snapped your head in the direction of it towards a massive throne with violet backing stood across from you.

Slumped in the seat was an impossibly tall and effeminate young man swirling cream into his porcelain cup. Though he was svelte, his hips were softly rounded with pillowy thighs and a perfectly cinched waist. Pale mint hair fell past his waist in subtle ringlets and framing his delicate face. Black gloss coated his pouty, lush lips that stood against his moon-white skin like ink against canvas.

His outfit consisted of a ludicrous amount of frills to rival an 18th century French noblewoman. A high-necked lilac blouse with sweeping sleeves and a lacy cravat pined by gemstone the same color as his eyes and a pair of black booty shorts that left as much to the imagination as a Marvel film. For footwear, a pair of polished licorice-black court shoes and porcelain-colored thigh-high stockings with rows of ruffled lace trim at the top covered up most of his long shapely legs.

His dark purple eyes sparkled as he lifted them up from his teacup. When they met yours, a cold and primal fear slithered its way through your body. This creature, being, entity-- whatever it was, had existed for far longer than humanity has. That it had knowledge and power far beyond your mere mortal understanding. That its mere presence was a reminder as to how truly pathetic and weak mankind is, how you were nothing but a mere speck of dust in the grand scheme of it all.

Before you could react, he suddenly appeared right in front of your face. The seconds stretched into eternity as he looked at you, tilting his head this way and that way while studying every detail of your face. His lips split into a wide grin: revealing countless sharp fangs glinting like rows of white knives.

All of your muscles froze with fear. This was it. This was how you were going to meet your demise; at the hands of this fucking eldritch femboy in hot pants and lacy thigh-highs out of all things to kill you.

"Aren't you cute?" He cooed, reaching a hand towards you and tilted your head up to face him. "I like you. I like you-- a lot. You have such a sweet little face."

What the actual fuck was going on here? You swallowed; unsure of how to process what was happening.

"Go on and take a seat, please." He gestured to the seat opposite from his.

Not wanting to piss him off, you stiffly walked over to it and sat down while he sashayed back towards his. His hips swung side-to-side in a mesmerizing manner before he plopped back down, crossing one leg over the other as he flipped his hair.

"Don't look so scared, honey bunny. I got no intentions of hurting you." He smiled and poured out a cup of tea. "After all, if I wanted to, I would've done so by now."

He slid the cup towards you before refilling his own. You glanced over to your left as a black-and-white harlequin doll sat beside you while a cream-colored teddy took the one to your right.

Your toes curled in your shoes and you glanced down at the teacup, expecting some sort of goo with eyeballs floating in it; or the countless screaming faces of the lost souls the unspeakable horror in frills across from you, still crying out for a mercy that will never come. However....

Looking back at you was your own reflection in a pool of chamomile tea.

"Is it too hot for you?" The femboy asked.

"W-what?"

"I mean your drink, honey bunny." He pointed. "Do you want me to cool it down for you?"

"N-no, I'm good. Thank you." You croaked out.

"Are you sure?" He said.

"Yes..."

"Well, if you say so..." He pouted before taking a small sip. "Are you not a fan of chamomile?"

"I-it's not that..." You glanced off to the side, feeling the toys' eyes staring into you. A shiver ran down your spine as you saw him leaning forward.

"Then what is it?" He cradled his head between his hands. "You look pretty tense."

Gee, I wonder why! Your lips pressed into a line. "Well, uh..."

"What is it?" He leaned in.

"I-if it isn't too much to ask... M-may I have some shortbread?"

"Of course!" He nodded. "I'll go get some. You just sit here and enjoy your tea, sweetie boop!"

When you were certain that he was gone, you booked it back to the front door. Your legs kicked up high as your arms pumped up and down by your sides-- and cursing all the days you decided to skip the gym in favor of doomscrolling. You didn't care about the guards, you didn't care about the Lovecraftian femboy, all you cared about was getting the hell outta here before meeting a horrible fate!

Why the hell did I ever respond to that damn ad? Why the hell did I take this job? You heaved out, running through the twisting corridors while the toys' head snapped in your direction like spectators at NASCAR. You didn't care that they were now making all kinds of horrible noises. So long as those damn things didn't start chasing, they can keep on screeching.

The foyer was rapidly coming into view and your heart leapt up with relief. Gritting your jaw, you ran even faster than you ever had in your pathetic life. You could practically feel the fresh air and sunlight on your face-- freedom was just a matter of yards away.

Your hand wrapped around the doorknob and you were about to pull it wide open when a pair of arms softly wrapped around your shoulders.

"Ah, ah, ah. Where do you think you're going?" He smirked, leaning against you.

You said nothing, not daring to turn around and face the mouthful of fangs behind. You waited for him to asunder you into a pile of mangled body parts. To tear your organs out and strew them into confetti. Or to chomp out the back of your head and slurp up what remained of your shredded brains.

Instead, he just hummed and pressed his face against the back of your neck. You felt his eyelashes fluttering while he nudged his cheek into you.

"You're so funny, sweetie boop." He chuckled, nuzzling deeper. "You're also so cuddly too, I just wanna hold you all day every day!"

Before you could process it, you were now laying in a massive canopy bed rife with luxurious pillows and sheets. He laid beside you with his arms around your waist and his head on top of yours.

"There, that's better." He mumbled with a self-satisfied huff as the drapes were pulled closed by the tentacles protruding from his back.

"W-what...."

"What? Never been cuddled before?" He chuckled. "Didn't I tell you that if I wanted you dead, I would've done so by now?"

"Uh...."

"You're so silly, honey bunny." He playfully flicked your nose. "Now just relax and lemme hold you."

"But I...."

"No buts. Just cuddles." He rubbed his face more into the crown of your head, humming in enjoyment.

So, you just laid there awkwardly with an overly-affectionate and clingy eldritch femboy holding you like a stuffed animal. Occasionally he'd shifted slightly and adjusted his grip, and made small noises of comfort. All the while you stared at the drape and praying that he'd eventually let go.

Out of all the things to have happened, why this? Your head leaned forward and drew out a weary breath. Glancing back at him, you debated whether to just get up and risk his wrath or to just lay here and hope he'd sooner or later released you.

"Can I please go now?" You asked.

"Hm, no."

"Please."

"Fine. But only after a few more minutes of cuddling." He sighed in resignment, pulling you closer towards him. "Now, lemme enjoy this."

You looked up to the ceiling and groaned, regretting responding to that job posting on Indeed some months ago.

"Oh relax, honey bunny. It's not that bad."

[drabbles-mc]

Work of Art

Ben Grimm x F!Artist!Reader

Warnings: fluff, mentions of Ben adjusting to life post-space trip

Inspired by This Post by @shefollowedthestars 🤎

Word Count: 6.1k

A/N: never written for Ben before or F4 in general but GOD if i didn't enjoy this so so so much. anyway!!! gonna be unwell about him forever now!!!!!

He had been trying to get better about venturing outside his comfort zone. A zone which was admittedly small these days ever since coming back down to Earth from the trip that changed everything. For a brief while there, he hardly ever left the house at all. Now, while some days it still felt harder than maybe it should, he did make a point to get himself out and about.  

All of his usual haunts welcomed him back with enthusiastically open arms. It was the warm welcome, the type of excitement, that made Ben want to shrink away. Some folks said that any attention was good attention, however Ben often felt himself believing just the opposite. For the sake of survival and not losing his mind he worked on rewiring the part of his brain that believed that. Logically he always knew that it was better than the alternative, it was just a matter of allowing himself to feel that not just think it. He tried to remember that it was coming from a place of appreciation, a place of love. It took some time but as the days continued to tick by, the hesitation started to erode away. One tiny bit at a time. 

There was a café on the other end of town that Johnny came home raving about and swearing by. Ben knew that it was a toss-up—the place could possibly be as good as Johnny was saying, or it could be that there was just a cute girl who worked there that was giving Johnny a bit of tunnel-vision. It was the type of fifty-fifty odds that not even Reed could argue against. He had made a point to mention it to Ben more than a couple times, though, so the next day that he was feeling particularly brave he made his way over. A handful of blocks deeper into the city than he usually went, he managed to find the place that Johnny had been talking about. 

There wasn’t much for outdoor seating, which was Ben’s preference these days for reasons unrelated to just wanting fresh air and sunshine. Since touching back down on Earth, it had been difficult to find places where he actually felt comfortable sitting down and eating, or enjoying a cup of coffee. Even if some of the places were technically large enough, more often than not they would still feel cramped. At that point he would much rather just take something to go. The few small tables they had outside were occupied, people enjoying some of the last nice days before the autumn chill became a bit too much. 

Coffee was an easy thing to take to-go, though. And he’d made the mistake of telling Johnny where he was going as he got into the elevator at home. So he couldn’t come home without some kind of report on his findings. Shaking his head at himself, at the way he now overthought everything, he took a deep breath and stepped up towards the door. 

The inside was surprisingly roomy. It reminded him a bit of the physics of Mary Poppins’ bag. He turned to look around and get a full scope of the place, making sure to do so carefully so he didn’t bump into anyone or anything. With the exception of a few booths that were built into the wall, the place was all different sized tables. Tables for two, tables for four. One large table lingered at the back of the space, the kind of table he’d expect to see people eating family dinner at.  

From his side of the counter he could see all the different coffee and espresso machines. There was a small display case that had a few pastries inside. Nothing fancy, but little things that would go well with the coffee or tea that people actually showed up for. He was looking at all of his options when a young girl behind the counter let him know that it was his turn to order. 

She was cute. And young. She had that warm, bubbly personality that people associated with girls behind the counter at the coffeehouse. Not that he would ever say it out loud, especially not to the girl’s face, but as she wrote his name on the side of his cup he couldn’t help but wonder if this was what kept Johnny coming back. 

He got his answer when the girl handed him his coffee cup and a small paper bag with a croissant inside. Her smile split a little wider and she couldn’t quite look Ben in the eyes as she said, “Hey, um, if you see Johnny, could you tell ‘im I said hi?” 

Ben wanted to roll his eyes, or even make a joke, but he could tell by the way the girl was fidgeting with her hands that it had taken everything in her to get the courage to ask him that. He would save his sarcasm for the guy back home who deserved it far more than she did. 

He nodded. “Sure thing.” 

Rather than continuing to stand there and stare at the girl behind the counter, who was grinning as she attempted to make herself look busy with the rag in her hand, Ben took a small step backwards, trying to catch the name on her pin since he hadn’t thought enough to ask and it was too late now. 

He didn’t know if he would have stayed if the girl hadn’t asked him to pass along a message to Johnny. But now that she had, he figured he should be taking his goodies to go. Turning around, he maneuvered his way towards the door. A few people that were sitting at the tables watched him go, smiling and waving. Ben gave them half-hearted waves back but he just wanted to be sitting at the table at home. 

Stepping back out onto the sidewalk, Ben was about to let the café door fall shut behind him when he saw you making your way towards the entrance. You were looking down into an open tote bag, clearly in search of something. The brown leather strap that went across your body was connected to what looked to Ben like a map tube. However, judging by the pencil tucked behind your ear and the spiral-bound sketchbook that was peeking up over the edge of your tote bag, he had a feeling it was art inside that cylinder, not a map. Whatever you were looking for must have been important, the way your face was pinched with focus. Ben backpedaled a step, just enough to be able to pull and hold the door open for you. The thought crossed his mind that if he didn’t, you just might walk right into the glass. 

You looked up right at the last second, though, proving Ben wrong. The intensity on your face faded when you saw that someone was holding the door open for you. Despite the mounting confusion on your face when you saw who it was that was holding the door for you, you still smiled. 

“Thanks,” you said, face starting to feel warm as you stood there just before the doorway, bag still open in front of you. 

“You’re welcome. You just, uh, looked like you might—” 

“Smack my forehead off the glass?” you finished his sentence with a laugh. 

Ben chuckled. “Your words, not mine.” 

“Well, I appreciate it.” You stepped over the threshold and into the café, not wanting to hold him up or linger in the entryway for too long. “Very chivalrous of you.” 

He didn’t know what more to say as he stood there looking at you. He also didn’t know how to end the conversation right then without it feeling abrupt. It should’ve been simple—he knew that he was overthinking it. And he was overthinking it because you were the prettiest girl he’d seen in a long time and he hadn’t set out for the day ready for that kind of thing. 

Someone who was sitting in the restaurant simultaneously saved Ben from making a fool out of himself, while also cutting his moment with you short. They called out what he now knew was your name, because you immediately looked back over your shoulder to see who had said it. Hands full, you offered the person a bright smile and a nod in lieu of a wave. 

“Thanks again!” you chirped before turning and heading off towards the table where your friends were sitting. 

Ben stood there for a moment in the doorway watching you go, half-formed sentences hanging off the tip of his tongue. It took a few seconds longer than it should have for him to remember that he was supposed to be leaving. 

Not that he would ever admit it out loud, but now Ben was the one going to the coffeeshop in hopes of seeing a pretty girl. It was even less likely for him than it had been for Johnny, though. At least the cute girl that Johnny liked worked there. It wasn’t as much of a longshot as far as gambles went. You, though? For all he knew you had just been passing through. Maybe you were just in the city visiting someone, whoever it was that had called your name. For all he knew you were on the other side of the country now. 

He was taking a step backwards from the counter, coffee in hand, when he bumped into someone. An apology was already halfway out into the air before he even turned to see who it was.  

You were apologizing too, your bag hanging in the crook of your arm, a small plate in one hand that Ben was assuming had started off with a pastry on top of it. For a moment he could see it on your face that you were simply impressed with yourself that the slight commotion hadn’t sent the plate falling and shattering on the floor. When you looked to see who it was that you had backed into, your face shifted to surprised, then you smiled. 

“Just keep running into each other, huh?” you said still smiling. 

Ben couldn’t help but to smile too. “Holding the door was probably a better look for me.” 

“Last line of defense before chivalry becomes a thing of the past,” you joked. 

One of you needed to move. Ben knew that it should be him. He couldn’t yet, though. Some of it was lingering nerves, but he also knew that the longer he stood there, the more details he could take in about you. Like the paint, and what he assumed was charcoal, smeared on the backs of your hands and your forearms. You still had a pencil tucked behind your ear, too. It looked nice paired with the small pair of stud earrings you had in. No rings or bracelets though, and he had a feeling that was in direct correlation with the streaks on your hands and wrists. 

Time hardly meant a thing to him right then, but he knew that he could only afford to stand and stare at you for so long before it became a problem for more reasons than his lingering sense of embarrassment. Clearing his throat, he stepped to the side and allowed you to pass. He couldn’t have been frozen too long, he reasoned, since you were still smiling and gave him a nod as you slipped by him to set your plate with the others that were empty and stacked ready to be brought back to the kitchen. 

Not wanting to keep up the streak of lingering, or getting in the way, Ben turned and started back towards the door. He wanted to ask you for your name, since hearing your friend call it out before didn’t quite count as an introduction. Maybe even ask for your number. Hell, ask for anything, but the words just weren’t coming.  

He was about to let go of the door now that he was back outside. Out of habit, he looked back to see if anyone was right behind him, not wanting to let it slam in their face. He laughed and so did you when your eyes met. 

You gestured to him and the door as you stepped through. “Redemption!” 

The look on your face had him feeling warm despite the cool breeze weaving between you. “Thank God—that was really gonna eat at me.” 

Your laughter was quiet as the two of you walked out of the entryway. When you paused, so did he. Looking up at him, you adjusted your bag on your shoulder and said, “Ben, right?” 

He knew that you were asking out of politeness. Everyone knew his name by this point. Still, he played along. He knew yours too, after all, but he was still going to ask anyway. “Yeah. Sorry, haven’t really needed to introduce myself lately after...all of it,” he ended the sentence with a chuckle. 

You smiled and nodded. “That makes sense.” You told him your name without making him ask. It looked like you were about to say something else when your watch chimed. Looking down, your eyes widened. “I gotta run,” you said, already taking a backwards step, “but I’m sure I’ll be seeing you in a doorway somewhere soon!” 

Ben was chuckling, nodding as you went. By the time he came up with something that he wanted to say, you were nearly out of earshot. He stayed for a moment longer and watched you go, turning at the end of the block and disappearing out of sight. 

He still had his coffee cup in his hand when he got back to the Baxter Building. He was in the middle of being greeted by HERBIE when Johnny came striding into the kitchen. Skipping over pleasantries entirely, he focused in on the coffee cup that was in Ben’s hand. 

“See? Told ya!” he said, triumph in his voice and the way he nodded. 

Ben looked at him. “Told me what?” 

He pointed to the cup. “That you’d like that spot!” He turned and was rooting through the refrigerator. “And you thought it was just because of a cute girl.” 

Ben rolled his eyes. “I think we were both right.” 

Johnny laughed, giving a shrug of admission. “Maybe.” He walked around and clapped Ben on the shoulder as he went to head back towards his room. “But it’s not like you would keep showing up just ‘cause of a cute girl, so that solves that.” 

Ben nodded, but there was just enough of a hitch in his answer that Johnny’s footsteps ceased as he said, “Yeah. Ob—obviously.” 

Johnny immediately backpedaled so that he was standing in front of Ben. Not taking his eyes off the man in front of him, he spoke to HERBIE, “Herbert, did you hear that? That sounded like,” he dramatically walked circles around Ben, “well, that sounded like Ben here was trying to lie to us! Wouldn’t you say?” 

HERBIE was already beeping and chirping out a response when Ben tried to come to his own defense. “Don’t answer that, HERBIE.” He looked at Johnny, who had stopped his vulture-like circling. “You said it yourself, they’ve got good coffee there.” He shook his nearly-empty cup. “That’s it. You were right for once—you should be happy with that win.” 

Johnny held his hands up in surrender. “Hey, listen, I’m not judging. Reveling in victory? Maybe. But not judging.” 

Any opportunity for Ben to try and fail to come to his own defense disappeared as Johnny sauntered off down the hallway, HERBIE following close behind. Ben couldn’t hear what they were saying exactly, but they were all laughs and excited beeps as they turned into the office that Johnny had co-opted for himself. 

Ben was shaking his head at himself now. Finishing off the coffee, he looked at the empty cup for a moment before tossing it into the trash. “It’s good coffee,” he muttered to himself. 

It was a little over a week before Ben had time to go back to the coffeeshop again. He had the entire morning to himself to do as he pleased, which was rare. It was an exceptionally warm day for fall, so he put on his sweater and grabbed the book he’d been working his way through with the intention of sitting outside at the cafe if there were tables available.  

It was a busy enough on the city streets for Ben to be able to tune it out rather quickly once he sat and cracked his book open. Even when he reached to take a sip of his coffee, he didn’t pry his eyes away from the pages in front of him. A few people had cycled in and out of the other chairs and tables that the coffeeshop had outside. He only paid attention to that at first to make sure that from where he was sitting, he wouldn’t be getting in anyone’s way. He wasn’t, so his focus remained solely on his book, and the breeze that occasionally came through attempting to make him lose his page. 

He was getting towards the end of his coffee, wondering if he was really going to go in and order another or if he was just going to pack it up and head home. When he reached the end of the page that he was on, he glanced back over his shoulder to try and gauge just how busy it was inside.  

When he was looking back at the counter, he felt someone staring at him. He’d lost count of the turnover at the other tables around him. Looking around to see if there really even was someone looking at him, his gaze landed on you. His eyes widened, kicking himself for having missed your arrival. 

“Hi,” he said, feeling how his shock was still evident in his features but not able to make it go away. 

If you were fazed, you didn’t show it. You gave a small wave. “Hey! Fancy seeing you here.” 

He smiled, gave a small laugh. There was something different in the way that you were looking at him in that moment compared to your other encounters. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, though. It wasn’t negative, but there was an intensity hiding in your expression that hadn’t been there before. The tilt of your head, the way that the pencil that had been behind your ear before was now pinched between your fingers. 

Attempting to think about anything other than the way you were looking at him, Ben made a motion towards the pages that you had spread out across the table in front of you. They all had something expertly placed on at least one edge or corner—the wind wasn’t going to take your art the way it was trying to steal Ben’s page number.  

“You come here to work a lot?” he asked. 

You shrugged, looking down at your scattered artwork and then back at him again. “When I have the time, yeah. Most times I’m just up late working in my apartment, or the studio at the school.” 

He forgot how close the university was to where the two of you were currently sitting. “You’re a teacher? Uh, professor?” 

You smiled and nodded. “Yep! Something to help pay the bills until I can do this,” you held up your sketchbook, a blank page staring at Ben, “full-time.” 

“Wow,” he was nodding, impressed. 

The conversation lulled, and then Ben felt it again, the way that you were staring at him. You didn’t seem like the type to scrutinize, to pick him apart for the sake of a joke or an insult. However it was hard to not let those thoughts begin to creep in because of how different things had been since coming back from space. Ben might’ve been his own worst critic, but scattered outside voices certainly didn’t help either. 

Leaning back on your chair, your hands fell into your lap. The tilt of your head returned as you said, “Can I ask you something?” 

Ben’s heart started thundering in his chest. You’d given him no reason to be worried, but he couldn’t help it. He released his grip on the paper coffee cup in his hand so he didn’t accidentally crush it out of nerves. Nodding, he said, “Shoot.” 

One hand reappeared. You tapped the eraser of your pencil on the blank sketchbook page in front of you. “Can I draw you?” 

Ben sat back in his seat like your four little words had landed a punch right to the middle of his chest and sent him tumbling. “What?” 

You cracked a smile, and Ben was thinking it was the first time he saw you a little flustered. He’d say the shoe was finally on the other foot but he was reeling from the question. “It’s okay if not. I, I know maybe that’s a weird question. We don’t, you know, know each other. But...yeah, could I?” 

“Um, I mean—” 

“I won’t keep you here or anything. Not like, all day. Just until you finish your coffee?” 

The part of him that wanted to say yes was just as loud as the part of him that was filled with fear and wanted to hop the tiny fence separating the tables from the sidewalk so that he could make a break for it.  

“Why?” he said, knowing it wasn’t the right answer to the question that you’d asked him. But he couldn’t stop himself from asking.  

For a moment it seemed you found it difficult to meet Ben’s gaze. He didn’t rush you into an answer, but he was still waiting for one. “You just, um,” you stared at the sketchbook in front of you and then finally looked him in the eyes again, “make quite the beautiful little scene here, you know? The sunlight is perfect, and you’ve got your sweater and your book and your eyes and...” you trailed off, the look on your face letting Ben know that you’d said more than maybe you meant to. 

The fluttering sensation in his stomach was something that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. It wasn’t an unwelcome feeling. He sat and watched you for a moment as he tried to gather up the courage to give you his answer.  

Surprising to himself most of all, he nodded. “Okay.” 

Your entire face lit up. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah. I just, um,” he gave his cup a tiny shake, “this one’s done.” He stood up, trying not to tip his chair over in the process, “Let me just grab another—” 

You made a motion with your hands trying to tell him not to bother. “Oh, no, that’s alright. You don’t have to—” 

“It’s fine. Do you, um, you want anything?” 

You shook your head, still smiling. “I’m good.” 

It was a few minutes of awkward conversation when he came back. He kept asking how you wanted him to sit, if he should be doing something specific with his coffee or his book or his face. You were kind but amused by it all, reassuring him that all you needed him to do was whatever he would be doing if you weren’t sitting there drawing him. There was no blushing for him these days, but if he could have, that’s exactly what he would have been doing.  

Eventually he settled into it. He had his book on the table, and you had your sketchbook propped against your legs so it was slanted against the edge of the table. Every couple of pages or so he would pause so he could ask you questions, just make casual conversation. Even when you didn’t look up at him to respond, he could see how you were smiling as your pencil flew across the paper. He asked you about your art, about what it was like to work at the university. You were kind enough not to grill him about what it was like in space, or being part of the Fantastic 4. Too many people had put that in the papers and the evening news to pretend you didn’t already know the broad strokes. 

Instead you asked him what he was reading. That branched out into a conversation about what other books he liked, what else he liked to do. He talked about cooking, about his small-scale greenhouse. He noticed that when he was talking about himself, that was when you would look up at him. Those were the moments when your hand would still against the paper. Then when the questions got turned back on you again you would answer while plugging away at your work. 

It wasn’t long until the book became a prop. He’d given up on reading it, but left it open in case you were still using it while drawing. His second coffee was long gone. The perfect sunlight that you had mentioned before was starting to shift, some of the taller buildings beginning to obscure it. If Ben noticed all of these things, he was sure that you must have too. But he didn’t mention any of it. He’d sit there until the sun went down completely if that was what you wanted to do. 

Sitting with you out on what must have been one of the smallest patios in the world, it was the first time in a long time that Ben didn’t have a sinking feeling of discomfort over someone staring at him. Once those first stiff couple of minutes had ticked by, he had eased right into it. Maybe because you were so relaxed about it. When you studied him, it wasn’t with scrutiny but with admiration.  

He watched you as you looked at him, the way your tongue would dart out along the edge of your mouth as you tried to put all of what you were seeing in front of you down on paper, and to do it just the way you wanted. He saw the sheen of graphite smears appearing on the side of your hand along your pinky and into your palm. You would sketch, then look at him again, erase some things, and then draw again.  

There was no avoiding people’s gazes anymore. Not with how he looked, not with his new-found celebrity and superhero status. That’s what had kept him inside for so long. There was no hiding from any of it no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he wanted to. And yet when you had asked him to sit there and allow himself to be stared at, studied, and drawn, he knew that he wasn't going to be able to say no. Not to you. It was a strange thing to him, that someone as gorgeous as you could sit there and tell him that he was part of a beautiful scene like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“I promise I won’t keep you much longer,” you said, your quiet laugh just barely giving away your nerves. 

Ben smiled. “I’m not in a rush to get anywhere.” 

You hummed as you put a little more shading into your drawing. “I said until your coffee was done, and that was a while ago.” You lifted your eyes without lifting your head. “But you’ve been very sweet to stay anyway.” 

He chuckled to try and hide the flutters your expression and your words caused inside his chest. Looking away, he glanced at the buildings across the street, the ones creeping up ever higher towards the sky. 

“Ah, you know, it’s not every day that an artist asks to draw a portrait of you,” he said, still not able to look at you. 

“Well,” you said as you said your pencil down on the tabletop with a sense of finality, “it’s not every day you come across your next model at the cafe.” 

He laughed in earnest at that. Amusement giving him enough confidence to look at you. “I don’t know about all of that.” 

“No?” You stood from your table and walked over to his. Sitting down in the chair across from him, you set the sketchbook down and spun it dramatically so that the drawing was facing him. “I think I do.” 

Despite everything, Ben still hesitated before he looked down at the drawing. It wasn’t that he thought you weren’t going to do a good job. His worry was that you were going to do a great job and he still wasn’t going to like what he saw. Before he looked down, he looked at you one more time. He smiled at the tiny smear of graphite by your eyebrow where you must’ve touched your face without realizing it.  

Finally, he looked at the sketchbook that you’d set in front of him. He had been holding his breath to begin with, but when he saw the picture in front of him, he tried to pull in another and it didn’t have anywhere to go, nearly sending him into a coughing fit. 

He managed a soft, “Wow,” as he stared at the drawing in front of him. 

A mixture of warmth and heaviness blossomed in his chest. The idea that this was how someone saw him, how you saw him, rendered him speechless. It was him at the table, his coffee and his book. You put just enough into the background so that it looked like the city, but not so much that it would distract anyone from the real focus of your drawing. It was all varying shades of gray graphite against the slightly off-white paper except for his eyes, which you had colored in bright blue. He was smiling in the picture, one hand keeping his book open. Despite the purposeful lack of color, the drawing still felt warm, soft. A lump began to grow in the back of his throat the longer that he looked at it. 

When you spoke up again, your voice was quieter, gentler than it had been. A recognition that this moment was something bigger outside just the two of you. “I told you—beautiful.” 

He chuckled, a soft breath coming out through his nose. He pried his gaze away from your artwork of him so he could look at you again. “You’re really good.” 

You shook your head. “Just drawing what I see.” There was a pause, tension and possibilities thickening the air between you. Clearing your throat, you rested your fingertips against the spiral that bound your sketchbook together. “Do you want to keep it?” 

He tilted his head this time, only he was doing so in confusion. “What?” 

You tapped the edge of the drawing. “The drawing. Do you want to keep it?” 

He held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “No, no. You don’t gotta do that. You,” he looked down at the picture, “you worked really hard on that.” 

You smiled. “Yeah, but the whole point of making art is sharing it with people. People that, you know, that it matters to them.” 

Ben didn’t know what to do with the feeling bubbling in his chest. He wanted to keep the drawing, but he didn’t know how to feel about that. He’d been dodging looking at himself, thinking about the state of himself, so often these days. It was a big shift to suddenly find himself wanting a keepsake of it all. 

Whether you sensed his internal conflict, or it was an offer you were planning on extending anyway, you said, “I think I might even have a frame at home that this will fit in.” 

His face lit up. “Yeah?” 

There was a satisfied smile on your face as you nodded. “Yeah, definitely. Why don’t I get this framed and then you can have it?” 

Ben was nodding even though all of the anxious trains of thought inside his head were screaming at him to stop, to say no, to not impose. “I’d really like that.” 

You were nodding as you took your sketchbook back, carefully flipping it closed. “I’d like that too.” 

He watched as you stood back up again and went to put your sketchbook into your bag. He closed the book he’d brought, knowing that he was going to have to reread most of what he’d done over the last little stint there. His eyes were seeing the words but now there was no chance that he was going to remember any of it in any sort of meaningful way. He wasn’t upset about it.  

You gathered up all of your things. He was amazed at how much you could fit into the tote bag that you kept hung in the crook of your arm. No wonder you were nearly walking into doors as you tried to find things inside of it. When you were done, you lingered by your table looking at him.  

It took a minute, but he realized what it was that you were waiting for. Standing, he gathered his own few things and said, “I’ll walk out with you.” 

That same warm, knee-buckling smile crossed your face as you nodded. “I’d like that.” 

He got the doors for you, small smiles and quiet laughs passing between you as you slipped past him, thanking him on the way. Then you were both back on the sidewalk again. You’d made it seem like you didn’t want to keep him, but if someone asked him he wouldn’t have been able to tell them what exactly it was that you would’ve been keeping him from. The sidewalk with you was as good of a place to spend his day as any. 

“I’ll give you a call when I get this framed?” you asked, taking a step down the street as a wordless invitation for him to walk alongside you to wherever you were heading next. 

He nodded as he felt into stride just half a step behind you. “I’d like that.” 

You hummed in amusement. “Me too.” You looked up at him. “It’d be a lot easier to do if I had your number.” 

He chuckled, a little embarrassed but not in the way that made him want to hide. It’d been too long since he set foot in this arena, and it showed. “Right. Yeah, I guess that would help, huh?” 

He waited patiently as you dug a pen out of your bag. He was expecting you to pull out a slip of paper too, but instead you held out your hand to him. You must’ve seen the question on his face because you pointed to your palm with your other hand. 

He laughed and shook his head, but followed your request. He made sure to hold your hand as gently as he could as he wrote the number to the phone that was in his room of the Baxter Building. The warmth emanating off the back of your hand rivaled that which emanated from your smile and your eyes. He was just glad that his hand wasn’t shaking as he did it. The numbers were legible—that was all he was hoping for. 

Taking back your hand and your pen, you looked at the numbers he’d written. You smiled as you tucked the pen behind your ear and gently blew on your inked palm to encourage it to dry. Ben wasn’t sure if he believed in love at first sight, but it’d been enough times seeing you now that this might be it. 

“So I'll call you when it’s done, and we can, I don’t know, meet at our usual spot?” you said, tone light and joking. 

Ben smiled as he continued walking down the sidewalk with you, now realizing that you were making your way towards the bus stop. His mouth worked faster than his brain as he said, “Or I could take you to dinner?” 

You both stopped as you each processed what he said. Silence lingered for a second longer, enough to have Ben trying to scramble and come up with an exit strategy for both of you. 

Then you reached out, your hand resting on the outside of his arm. Even through his sweater and everything else, he could feel the heat of your touch. Your smile stretched a little wider than it had been before as you nodded. “I would really like that.” 

He sighed in relief, knowing the nerves of what he’d just gotten himself into would set in soon enough. He was enjoying that they hadn’t yet. “Great, perfect. Yeah. It’s, um, it’s a date.” 

You laughed as you reached the bus stop. “It’s a date.” Standing up on your tip-toes, you pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. “I’ll call you.” 

Ben was certain that his heart was beating hard enough to crack through the tough exterior that caged it. “Can’t wait.” 

(divider by @saradika-graphics 💕)

MCU Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added!): @garbinge @late-to-the-party-81 @blackhawkfanatic @artemiseamoon

[twentytomidnight]

rockslide

Ben Grimm/Reader, 2K

a/n: something I wrote for me and maybe you too. Enjoy! :)

cw: flirting, Ben is awkward and can’t believe you’re into him, gn!reader (no description of features/clothing)

masterlist ao3 requests

PREVIEW:

Ben realizes that he likes Sue’s book club friend much, much more than he expected. Ben Grimm/Reader

"A friend from your bookclub?" Ben asks from where he's poised at the corner with a magazine. He's framed in a rather picturesque manner at the wall-length window. Beyond him, there's a dashing view of the New York skyline draped with a thick layer of snow. Sue gives him a dubious look, her voice wry as she speaks. 

"Are you more surprised at the fact that I read," she asks primly, "Or that I have a friend?" 

"Can't it be both?" He asks with a good-natured grin that make his face look more craggily-detailed in the suffused kitchen lighting. He flips a page with a practiced ease in his rather blocky fingers, something that he's taken great deliberation to learn how to do so. Sue makes a semi-insulted chuckle as she walks over to the island to confirm the contents of her purse. 

"If you can have poker nights here every Wednesday," Sue returns, "I can have a friend come and meet me at the Baxter Building." 

"Some friend," Ben jokes back as he looks up from the page, "Makin' em climb all those stairs." 

"Elevators exist for people who don't exceed the 800 pound limit." Sue returns back with practiced ease. Ben shrugs as though he's not miffed at the prospect of the daily thirty-floor climb. 

"Gotta keep my girlish physique," Ben snipes back. "They some kind of superhero too?" 

"I have non-superhero friends," Sue grins, "They happen to be a civilian." 

"They gonna pass out if they see me?" Ben asks with a joking slant to his voice, but it's not entirely a joke. There's something that's caught in his vulnerable gaze as she looks up from the abyss of her pocket, up to those blue eyes that are shining through. 

"No," Sue reassures him in a manner that makes it clear that she's speaking the truth, "I don't think they will. They like us." 

There's something in Sue's voice that seems a little layered but she doesn't quite say it—Ben can read between the lines. 

"Oh," Ben says, "They a cape chaser?" 

"I wouldn't say that," Sue returns in a more sing-song voice. 

"Is it Johnny?" Ben cracks back. Sue laughs as though this is a very amusing concept. 

"Is it Reed?" Ben ventures again. Sue gives him a warning glare as she walks in the opposite direction of the penthouse. 

"They're going to be here any minute, but I have to get something from the bathroom." Sue says, fixing a coiffed lock of hair over her shoulder. "Can you let them in if they get here before I'm back?" 

"Sure," Ben returns cavalierly, and aims at Sue's back, "Is it Parker?" 

"Just get the door," Sue laughs, and then she's gone. Ben obliges and returns back to reading about good housekeeping in the magazine. He makes it to an obituary about a famous artist and almost forgets about the favor he promised when there's the melodic chime of the doorbell. He looks up with his eyes to the door that awaits his responsibility. 

"Here goes nothing," He mutters under his breath, and makes those deliberate, plodding steps to the door. Ben's taken care for years now to walk with a particular gait that doesn't make all the fine china tremble when he walks, so it's almost like he's light on his feet. Almost. 

He's certain that Sue's friend can hear the jolting tremors from the other side of the door as he swallows up the distance in easy strides. As he turns the doorknob that disappears entirely in his hand with a jerk of the wrist. 

He decides it's of the better offensive maneuever to announce himself as he opens the door, so that her friend isn't alarmed or taken aback. 

He begins with what he thinks is a good introduction. "So, you're Sue's friend?" 

Well, he would if he was able to completely articulate the sentence. But, in later recollection, he thinks that he made it to 'you're' and then something in the transmission from firing neuron to vocal chord must have died, because all he does is stare. 

"Hi," You look up at Ben with a sweet smile, a slight chatter to your voice that must be from the chill outside, "You must be Ben." 

He stares a tad longer than he should, looking you up and down in the layers of jackets and coats that do nothing to disguise the shape of your figure, the shape of your face as you smile up at him. It's warm in the hall, and perhaps this is what wafts over the scent that you're wearing to him from the small distance elapsed between you—he likes it. He thinks it suits you quite well. 

He realizes that he's ogling you, and perhaps a giant rocky behemoth filling up the massive doorway, eyes boring into you, is setting a terrible impression. He supposes he should speak. 

"Uh," He begins, and wishes he was wearing more than just his alma mater's sweatshirt and 10XXXXL sweatpants, "I am. You—wanna come in?" 

"Sure do," You respond cheerily. "Sue waiting in there for me?" 

Speaking words difficult. Saying thing hard. Ben Grimm, for all of his vaunted abilities, manages.

"Yeah. She said she was grabbin' somethin' from the back. Said she'd—"—He thinks about what sounds roguishly charismatic and settles upon—"—Be back soon." 

Nailed the landing, he thinks. You grin up at him. "That's fine. I don't mind waiting for her." 

He realizes he's yet to let you in, and moves back in a slow manner that he hopes won't scare you—usually, most people get frightened when the landslide tends to move with more alacrity than they expected. "Come on in, make yourself at home." 

"Kind of you to offer," You reply jauntily, and walk in through the doorway, past him. You're much smaller than him—well, everyone is, but you don't hug the other side of the wall to get past him. He thinks that your sleeve actually brushes past him and he has to fight a shiver, barely cognizant of the door he's closing. All he's doing is watching the way that you raise your arms above your head to unwind the red scarf around your neck, staring at the crook of your arms as you do so. 

"Wow," You declare breathlessly, "That's a beautiful sight." 

You're looking in the direction of the skyline, something admirative and soft on your face—he has to swallow as he takes a step closer to you. Something feels odd in the depths of his stomach—he realizes that he's still holding the magazine, as he looks down to see it crumple in his fist. He makes way to hastily stuff it in his pocket as you turn back to him, that bright look in your eyes. You're actually looking at him, engaging in conversation—most people tend to avert their eyes to the ground or keep a healthy distance. 

But you're pretty close. Close enough that he can take the time to look at your cute face and once again, find himself stymied for words. 

"Yeah, it is." He says as he stares down at you, and then realizes he's lost the plot. His voice is gruff as he says, "What is?" 

You laugh—and something soars in him as you tilt your head back. "The skyline. You guys just get to enjoy it every day." 

"Oh, that." Ben has the good grace to be a little sheepish, but he's on the recovery quick enough. "You get used to it eventually." 

"I don't think I could," You say with a wistful sigh. "There's just something so far up and removed and beautiful about it." 

"Gimme a floor view on Yancy Street with a window," Ben grouses back, letting some real quality leach into his voice at this. 

"Oh, Yancy Street with Seigel's Delicatessen?" You ask him, and he finds himself in for another surprise. 

"You know about that hole in the wall?" He asks with something curious and stunned in his voice—you chuckle knowingly. 

"Hole in the wall with the best Reubens in the city," You reply back knowingly, "Also, I used to work there for a few years." 

"When was that?" Ben asks coarsely, immediately, "Feel like I would've remembered a face like yours." 

He realizes belatedly that this is something that should've remained an inside thought—there's no way that you'd be receptive to that compliment. But then, he finds to his surprise, that you laugh again, your smile growing wider, a hand going to press over your lips as you look pleased. 

"That's sweet of you to say," You respond, "I think I would've remembered you, too." 

"'Cause of the rocky demeanor?" He asks with a sarcastic tilt to his voice, never one to lose an opportunity for self-deprecation. "Or the stunning sense a'humor?" 

"Mmmm," You say, tilting your head as you look at him, as if appraising something more than just the surface—he feels something thrill up his spine as you watch him, "Probably the jawline. Or the shoulders." 

He barely has time to process this, or the way that it makes his heart race, as you add on for good measure, "Or maybe those eyes. Something nice about them." 

"Uh," He says, because this is the very opposite of how he expected this interaction to go, "What's your name again?" 

There's a gleam of something mischievous in your eyes as you open your mouth to answer—but your name is spoken on someone else's tongue. Ben has never been less appreciative of Sue emerging in the nick of time, making you turn away from him, to your book club friend who is interrupting this cozy moment. 

"Sue!" You exclaim, going to her open arms for a warm embrace. "Good to see you." 

"Good to see you too," Sue says, pulling back to give you an admiratory smile, "Has Ben been keeping you company?" 

At this, you pause, looking back with a shy smile at him that makes his heart do a quadruple flip. 

"Oh, yes," you smile, "He's an excellent conversationalist." 

He thinks he's no such thing, especially with how much you've flummoxed him. But he'll take the compliment on the chin. 

"You know me," Ben says, and Sue does know him—which is why she gives him a fleeting look over your shoulder, when you're not looking. 

"Well," Sue says, ever the interloper in a conversation he desperately wants to keep going, "We should get going before our reservation goes to someone else." 

"Oh, let's," You say with a grin. "I'm starving."

Ben realizes that he is, too, but not for food, as he watches with some forlorn degree of longing as the two of you get ready to leave. He steps back as the two of you walk past him, but then realizes that you're turning to him with something in your hand. 

"Ben, this fell out of your magazine," You inform him, pressing a crumpled piece of paper into his large hand—your fingers are so tiny against his, so miniature. He wants to know what it's like to hold them in his. "Thought you might want it back." 

"Thanks," He says, trying to memorize every part of you, his fingers closing around it. "Nice meetin' you." 

"Nice meeting you too," You say, but Sue is calling your name. "Maybe I'll see you around." 

"Yeah, I sure hope so," Ben says—you duck your face in pleasure, as he watches you go. It's not until he hears the door shut in the jamb, and stares at it for a long while, that he decides to open his palm up again. Then, he can finally take the time to look at the shred of paper you chose to gave him. 

It's a number. And written next to it—your name, with a looping script that says Call me! 

"Holy shit," Ben mutters, and doesn't realize until Sue gets back from lunch that he's had a dopey smile on his face for the longest time. 

Dividers provided by the delightful @strangergraphics

[revelutionize]

Requested: No

Pairing(s): Ben Grimm x Gender-neutral reader.

Warning(s): Overall fluff, hints of insecurity.

A/n- I need him, idc, and lemme know if anything doesn't look right!

You've known Ben since the beginning, before the space trip, before he got his powers. As Reed's assistant, it meant you were able to get close to everyone in the family, soon becoming one of them after years of friendship and loyalty. But Ben? he was everything you didn't know you needed. You both spent countless nights together, staying awake to talk about anything and nothing at all, even after his transformation.

You were always there for him, especially after what happened out in space. It was a huge adjustment, at first, Ben could barely meet your gaze, his usual friendly touches dwindling down to nothing, treating you as if you were made of glass. To be fair, he probably could snap you in half without even trying, but you trusted him more than anything, and he knew that. Which is what lead you to now, years later, standing on the balcony together and watching the night sky.

It was a comforting silence, a gentle blanket of warmth that enveloped the both of you. You're sure you could've stayed like this, just basking in his presence, but of course, everything has its end. "Can I uh- Can I ask ya' something?" His question caught you slightly off guard, head tilting as you observed him closely, "Yeah, what's up?"

"Do you think the beard looks alright?" Now that question caught you even more off guard, and for a moment you couldn't help but just stand there and stare. Poor Ben looked even more anxious the longer you stared, his hand trying not to break the railing that he was holding onto. "What kind of question is that?" You breathed out, shifting to lean against the railing as you looked at him, "You look handsome, Ben."

Ben let out a shuddered breath, his shoulders slumping a little as he looked at you. So you decided to be bold, taking a small step forward and raise your hand, fingers gently brushing against his stone beard, "More than, honestly." His jaw tightened but he didn't pull away, instead he looked right back at you, sending a small thrill through your body, "You mean that?"

"Course I mean that, Ben you're-" The words got caught in your throat, letting out a slightly shuddered breath as you looked at him, "You're everything."

Time seemed to still for a moment, gazing at each other in silence, the growing tension over the years seemingly reaching its boiling point as Ben hesitantly reached out. His hand hovered near your face, careful and uncertain, "Y'know I'm not the same, right? You really want this? All of this?" His voice trembled as he spoke, his finger just barely brushing against your cheek.

"Of course I do" You breathed out softly, leaning into his touch. His touch was cold, lacking the warmth it once had when he was flesh and bones, but you didn't care. "You're still the same man, Ben, rock or not" You whispered softly, hand carefully resting over his, "You're the kindest man I know, strong and determined, and a heart of gold."

"You sure-? I-"

"Ben" You stopped him by moving closer, hand still on his as you smiled softly. "I want you" You whispered softly, "I've always wanted you."

"Then you got me" He sighed out, his blue eyes staring at you with love and adoration as he leaned in, his stony head gently resting against yours, "You've always had me."

[coffee-with-bucky]

Candid Confessions

Summary: You have been harboring feelings for Ben for quite some time. When a moment with Ben in the Fantasti-Kitchen literally sweeps you off your feet, you think maybe it’s time to finally tell him.

Pairing: Ben Grimm x gn!reader

Words: 4k

Content/tags: Fluff, very slight angst, friends to lovers, confessions, soft!Ben, Johnny being Johnny, H.E.R.B.I.E. is also here because I love him, not proofread (apologizes in advance)

A/N: After rewatching the Fantastic Four: First Steps, the movie and Ben haven't left my brain and because I can’t stop thinking about him, this fic was born. I basically wrote this for my own sake but hopefully there’s others who will enjoy this too. I mean, he’s such a sweetheart, how could you not love him? Also, I took some inspiration from the the official FF account where they posted in-universe magazines and interviews.

Warm herbs and spices wafted from the kitchen of the Baxter Building, enveloping the space with the smell of dinner and comfort. It felt like an all encompassing cozy hug. 

Ben was hunched over by the oven, checking on the casserole baking inside with a grin on his face, the dish looking deliciously golden brown and almost ready to be served. A pan of roasted vegetables rested on the oven rack below the casserole, also looking wonderfully baked.

As much as Ben appreciated H.E.R.B.I.E. cooking meals, he preferred making dinner himself, loving and enjoying the process of creating meals. It served as a creative outlet for Ben and quite literally, served food for the family. 

Placing the kitchen knife down on the cutting board, you had just finished chopping up some parsley, transferring the herb over to a dish to be used as a garnish later. You were helping Ben prep and cook dinner, spending time with him throughout late afternoon to evening as your schedule and duties were clear for the rest of the day. 

You were Reed Richards’ assistant, aiding the scientist with his research after his reputation changed into the superhero everyone knows him and his family as. Responsibilities ranged from simple tasks such as organizing his lab equipment, to more hands-on work like logging and recording outcomes of his experiments. Over the years, you became acquainted with the Fantastic Four, spending time with them on and off hours. Your job soon melted over into friendship, becoming a close friend with all of them to the point where you were always invited for dinner, such as tonight.  

“Is it almost ready?” You asked while wiping your hands on a dish cloth.

“Five more minutes until we can dig in.” Ben stood up, the sound of rocks lightly grinding as he shifted. “I think it needs a dusting of parmesan.” 

Taking a glance at the dinner table, you realized that the cutlery and plates weren’t set yet. Tossing the dish cloth on the counter, you headed towards the drawers and cabinets. And just as you took a step, Ben was right in front of you, facing in the direction of the fridge where he wanted to grab the cheese.

You slightly stumbled, stopping in your tracks. Your hands briefly touched his navy crewneck, raised in front of you before you could run straight into his chest. Ben’s hands hovered over your arms, fingers brushing against your forearm as he steadied you. 

“Oh, sorry.” 

“Sorry.” 

You went to side step to the right, trying to let yourself and Ben pass by each other. However, Ben accidentally mirrored your movements, shifting to his left. 

“Oops, sorry.” 

“Shit, sorry.” 

As Ben moved back to the right, you unfortunately repeated the same thing, moving to your left and leaving the two of you with the same problem. You and Ben broke out laughing at your hilarious standstill. The simple solution to this predicament would have had one of you stay off the to side and let the other through, yet Ben on the other hand had other ideas. 

“Alright, up you go.” Ben chuckled.

Gently grasping the sides of your arms, Ben with his immense strength lifted you off the ground. Considering you’ve seen him lift cars and trucks with little to no effort, he picked you up like you weighed nothing. You yelped in surprise, a giggle escaping your lips as Ben spun you behind him. Ben’s smile grew wider as a laugh rumbled through him, blue eyes lovingly shining at you. He slowly made your descent, placing you back down on the ground. 

Heat rose in your cheeks, your smile feeling permanently stuck on your face as you mirrored his grin. Despite already moving you, Ben’s hands still remained on your arms, his rocky yet light touch lingering on your skin. With his softening eyes and delicate grasp, goosebumps rose across your arms, an electric touch coursing through your veins. 

“Smells great in here!”

You and Ben flinched, jumping away from each other as the boisterous Johnny Storm skipped into the living room, H.E.R.B.I.E. beeping and rolling right behind him. Johnny caught the tail end of your private moment, a smirk forming on his lips.

You don’t exactly remember when you started having feelings for Ben, but somewhere in between the moments you and he shared, whether it was hero related or not, a speckle of a crush began to form in your heart. Maybe it was because he was unbelievably kind and caring of others, always putting others before himself. Like when he read books about babies and parenting before Franklin’s arrival, wanting to be a great uncle for him. Or when you were up to your elbows with tasks, frantically busy for hours on end with Reed’s research, and forgot to eat a proper meal. 

“I guess I let my work get the best of me. I had a granola bar before getting here and a cup of coffee from H.E.R.B.I.E.” You told him a few months ago. 

“You’re running on only coffee and a granola bar? That’s unacceptable. I’ll make you some lunch.” Ben asserted, leaving no room for you to argue.

Or when you had accidentally fallen asleep at your desk one time, Ben whipped up a snack for you, leaving it beside your paperwork and notes. You remember rubbing the sleep away from your face, a sticky note on the edge of the plate had caught your eye with a message written in his handwriting:

Thought you needed a pick-me-up. Don’t push yourself too hard. — Ben 

Some saw him as just a man made of rocks, some saw him as a superhero, but you saw Ben as, well, Ben. Of course photos and videos of Ben before the accident always circulated, especially in documentaries about the family, but your perception of him never wavered. If anything, you saw a handsome man then, and a handsome man now. After years of stealing glances at Ben, your heart never failed to race at his stunning blue eyes and his soft smile among the beautiful ochre rocks encompassing his body. You could only imagine that the kindness and heart of gold he displays now was just as warm and gracious as before — and it’s what you admired about him the most. 

Whenever the mere thought of Ben having the same feelings as you entered your head, doubt always wormed its way, trying to snuff it out. Perhaps at the end of the day, you were being foolish about this, wearing tinted lenses that made you see things that weren’t there, and getting your hopes up. However, you swore you saw a glimpse of what you could only hope were reciprocated feelings. It was in the way he looked at you and how his hands stayed at your arms that got you thinking maybe, just maybe, he liked you back. 

You were on the precipice of confessing, but until then, maybe you’ll wait to find an opportunity to tell Ben, one where there wasn’t an audience.

Staring at Ben sheepishly, you flashed a modest smile before quickly whipping around, hastily making your way to the cupboards. Opening the doors, you pressed your hand over your heart, feeling it race in your chest. Taking in a deep breath, you attempted to calm yourself as you slowly exhaled, focusing on the stacked plates in front of you.

Ben let out a frustrated huff, a frown replacing what used to be a bright smile. He glared daggers at Johnny for his impeccable timing. 

“Hey H.E.R.B.I.E.? Can you get dinner out of the oven when it’s ready?” Ben walked begrudgingly to the fridge. The robot beeped back in confirmation. 

With utensils placed and food set in the middle, dinner went by smoothly. Reed, Sue, and Franklin were out tonight visiting Reed’s parents, leaving just the three of you congregated at the table. Johnny had his favourite cereal beside him, popping a few pieces into his mouth before digging in into the main course. An easy going conversation flowed in between bites before the topic of schedules came up. 

“I heard you have that photoshoot and interview with Garden Tips again next week.” Johnny added, tossing cereal into his mouth. “Really showing those plants who’s boss, huh?” Johnny smirked, flicking a grain of cereal at Ben’s chest. 

“Listen, I’m no botanist, but gardening is a lesson in patience, something you need to work on.” Ben picked up the cereal and threw it back at Johnny, hitting him dead center into his forehead. 

Johnny pretended to groan in pain, head rolling back and letting his limbs dangle lifelessly as if he was taken out. “Nice shot.” Johnny snorted, giving a thumbs up. You and Ben laughed. 

“You have to provide the necessary care and conditions for plants to thrive and if you follow through with it, you get the fruits of your labour. Or in this case, lots of vegetables, like the ones we’re eating right now, are from the greenhouse.” Ben explained.

“Wait, there’s a greenhouse in the Baxter Building? Why am I just finding out now?” You asked curiously, mouth slightly agape in surprise as you placed your utensils down.

“It’s Ben’s sanctuary, if you will. Started it a few months ago. I’m banned from entering, because well, you know…” Johnny tilted his head towards his held out hand as flames emitted from his fingertips. 

“I knew how much you had a green thumb, it just never occurred to me to have a designated garden here.” You shook your head to yourself. There’s an entire floor dedicated for Reed’s lab and a literal spaceship parked outside the building. For you to underestimate a possible greenhouse was honestly hilarious. “And here I thought the fridge was always stocked with vegetables because you guys were on top of grocery shopping.”

Ben’s lips curved up, beaming at you. “I got a lot of herbs and root vegetables growing in there right now. I’m thinking of adding tomatoes when Reed finishes setting up separate temperature gauges for each garden bed. Because y’know, plants grow better in their natural season and temperature and what not.” 

“That sounds wonderful, Ben.” You grinned. “I can only imagine that it must be thriving under your care.”

Ben glanced down bashfully at his plate, a hand scratching the back of his neck as he coughed. 

“There’s also a flower bed with Sue’s favourites, been growing them for her birthday coming up and they’re looking pretty so far... I could— I don’t know— show you around some time, get to see the veggies we eat too. If you want, of course.” 

Warmth simmered under your cheeks. Johnny said Ben’s garden was basically his own private space, and here Ben is inviting you to see it? You couldn’t help but feel honoured. “I would love to.”

Little did you know, Johnny had a massive elated smile on his face, glancing between you and Ben. 

After stomachs were full and plates were cleared, Johnny insisted he and H.E.R.B.I.E. would take care of washing the dishes since you and Ben cooked. Whether it was the temperature in the kitchen, how bashful you were, or both, you were feeling stuffy from the heat.

To cool down your warm skin, you decided to step outside on the balcony, taking a view of the city as you drew in a deep breath of fresh air. You sighed, leaning your forearms against the railing as the lights from apartments and Times Square glimmered from afar. 

“What do you mean I missed a spot, Herbert? This plate is spotless!” Johnny exclaimed in disbelief. 

“Be sure to watch him.” You heard Ben advise the robot. 

You chuckled to yourself, listening to the commotion behind you. Among the clanging of dishes inside the sink, the sound of Johnny calling Ben over reached your ears when suddenly their voices were drowned out by the water running from the tap.

You took a peek behind you through the tall glassy balcony windows, watching Ben and Johnny deep in a conversation. It was hard to make out what they were chatting about as their backs were facing you, but whatever it was, it had Johnny waving his hands adamantly, sometimes pointing a soapy plate or fork at Ben. With a rocky hand, Ben wiped his face with a sigh, lightly nodding. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, following the way Ben rolled his shoulders like he usually does before heading out to save the city. Johnny slapped a sudsy hand on Ben’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Ben shook his head, giving the hotheaded blonde a playful shove. 

Shrugging it off, you turned your attention back to the city, the whirling of cars driving by in the streets and the occasional car horns met your ears. You stood there comfortably, soaking in the night before you heard footsteps, slowly getting louder as they neared you. You didn’t need to turn your head to know it was Ben standing beside you, his presence entering your periphery.

“Beautiful.” Ben uttered under his breath. 

You turned your head, expecting Ben to be looking at the cityscape. What you didn’t expect was Ben looking at you, a slightly crooked grin on his lips as his gaze never left your face. Your heart began to hammer in your chest, barely echoing in your ears as you nodded.

“It is.” You whispered, eyes flickering over his features. The moment stayed in between the two of you, the lights from the city night life blurring near the edges of your vision. 

Clearing his throat, you and Ben looked away from each other, your eyes blinking away your foggy vision and refocusing on the dark skyline. It became quiet for a while, the two of you standing in comfortable silence as the buzz of nightlife whirled around the Baxter Building. 

“You have any plans this weekend?” Ben broke the silence. 

You shook your head. “Besides running errands, I was thinking of relaxing for the most of it. Turn my brain off and forget about Reed’s theories about alternate dimensional realms and planes for a bit.”

Ben quietly chuckled, “Yeah, I get it. He’s been talking about alternate universes lately and as interesting as it sounds, it's a bit too existential for me.”

“And what about you? Busy weekend?”

“Besides that interview with Garden Tips, I have another photoshoot with a clothing brand on Saturday. Lots of blazers and ties.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “I don’t know how you do it with all the interviews and publicity. Not only are you guys protecting the city, but you’re thrown into the spotlight and have to uphold an image.”

Ben shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s not so bad. With experience, I got used to it eventually. It helps when the poses they make me do are very easy.”

“Kinda like your cover on Football All Stars, right? Throw on a jersey and hold a football in your arm and you’re done for the day.” 

“Spot on.” He chuckled, lightly tapped his fingers against the railing. “...There is one show that didn’t exactly turn out the way it was supposed to be.” You tilted your head, noting the way his lips sagged into a frown.

“You remember Let’s Make a Match and the contestant ended up choosing me?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you hummed, “I remember.”

The main premise of the TV program was to get someone on the show that was looking to be matched with someone. The catch being, the contestant’s potential dates were hidden by screens and the only information they had at their disposal was blindly asking questions. You recall hearing about Ben going on a date afterwards and that nothing came of it, but he never fully shared what happened.

“I answered the show's questions truthfully, and I thought it was enough for her to be intrigued by. Which she initially was, until they revealed who I was to her. On our one and only date, she kept askin’ me things about the Fantastic Four and our powers. Never really asked anything about… Me.” He sighed. 

You noticed it before you could reply. The shine in Ben’s eyes that you adored was lost, sinking below the disappointment swimming in his blue irises. His gaze became unfocused, as if the thoughts in his head took over, making your heart ache in your chest. 

“I want to be with someone who will see past the rocks and punchin’.”

Stepping closer into his space, you reached up to gently graze his forearm, slowly trailing down to his wrist before grasping his large hand. Ben stiffened, his hand freezing against the banister.

With soft and steady eyes never leaving his face, you voiced, “I understand her getting engrossed with the life of a hero, but underneath the suit and rocks is a really great guy that she missed out on. I mean, you’re so kindhearted to everyone around you, you know how to garden and cook, you’re incredibly intelligent, and on top of that you’re an exceptional astronaut and pilot? An absolute fumble on her end if you ask me.”

A long beat passed between the two of you. Slowly, the corners of Ben’s lips drifted into a tiny smile, moving his hand to cover yours, fingers delicately curling around. The dullness in Ben’s eyes began to glimmer under the moonlight, bright eyes lighting up with what you could only describe as a newfound reassurance.

“There’s people who love and appreciate you for who you are, Ben. And whoever it is, they’ll be really lucky to have you.” You quietly asserted. You just wished it was you. 

“I hope they’re out there somewhere.” Ben uttered under his breath. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach when you felt Ben’s thumb tenderly caress across your skin.

Your confession sat at the tip of your tongue, the words stuck in your throat. Closing your eyes, you drew in a long and quiet breath, exhaling through your nose. You couldn’t let these years of contemplating continue and you knew if you kept holding your feelings back, you were going to miss your chance entirely. 

Slowly pulling your hand away from his, you fidgeted with your fingers. Concern filled his eyes as he gazed at your withdrawn posture, shoulders curling in like you were bracing yourself. You swallowed the lump in your throat. 

“They do exist… Someone just so happens to be right in front of you.” You whispered.

His brow ridge lowered and furrowed. “Wait, what do you mean?”

“I… I have feelings for you— Had them for a while now, actually." You gave a tiny smile. 

Ben’s eyes widened, his jaw slackened. 

“The things I said earlier? I mean it... And they're the reasons I fell for you.”

The silence was deafening and the longer you fixated on the shock on his face, the longer you waited with baited breath. It felt polarizing with the way your body was reacting, pulling you in the complete opposite directions. Your shoulders had loosened and lifted, feeling slightly lighter after getting your confession off your chest, yet as the pause continued to drag on, your heart sank lower and lower. Heat crept up your neck, your face feeling like it was set ablaze as Ben stared at you with no response. 

Your mind was beginning to race, words stumbling out of your mouth, “I-I just thought you should know. If I ruined our friendship then I’m sorry—”

“You really mean it?” Ben rasped, his eyes darting across your face. 

“I do.” You breathed, peering into his wandering gaze. 

You blinked, feeling the embarrassment starting to swallow you up whole as your eyes fixated on the random loose thread on the collar of his crewneck. Maybe your doubts were right—

“I… I can’t believe you feel the same way.” Ben laughed in disbelief. 

Your eyes shot up, letting out a short gasp. Did he mean?

“W-Wait you…?”

Taking a step forward, Ben stood right in front of you, a crooked smile on his face. Taking your hand, he gave it a gentle squeeze, his thumb brushed across your knuckles. 

“I had a crush on you when we first met and I thought it would go away eventually. But turns out, the more I got to know you and the closer we became, I started catching feelings. It really wasn't until today in the kitchen that I realized I screwed up badly.”

You tilted your head. “How so?” You murmured. 

With his other hand, Ben raised it towards your jaw, the back of his finger brushing your cheek. The butterflies from earlier returned to your stomach, fluttering at how incredibly tender he was with his touch. 

“I fell for you too.” He beamed. 

A smile broke out on your face, a laugh escaping your lips as you felt your face burn up again, this time with glee. Ben laughed with you, mirroring your grin. It was a smile that made his eyes crinkle in the corners, blue irises lovingly shining brightly at you. 

Throwing your arms around his middle, your chest brushed into his as you embraced him. You felt a chuckle rumble through Ben’s body as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and back. Resting your head against his shoulder, his cologne enveloped your senses, a blend of wood and mint surrounding you as you nestled into the soft material of his crewneck. 

When you pulled away, Ben softly kissed your forehead. His lips, while obviously textured like rocks, were lovingly warm. Your cheeks began to hurt with how much you’ve been smiling at him. He gazed at you affectionately, the grin on his lips equally as wide as yours.  

“What’cha thinking about?” You asked softly, glancing at his lips.

“You.” He grinned. “And how I really want to kiss you.”

“I had the same idea.” You chuckled. 

“May I?” He asked quietly.

Ever the gentleman, you thought. You nodded. 

Leaning forward, Ben’s lips met yours in the sweetest kiss you could have imagined. Your eyes fluttered closed, reaching up to cup his cheeks. Caressing your thumbs across his rocky skin, you swept over rough edges in some areas before feeling smooth stone in others. He kissed you tenderly, hands holding your waist as his thumbs caressed your sides. Before you moved away for air, you quickly pecked the corner of his lips, feeling his mouth perk into a grin.

Pulling away, Ben rested his forehead against yours as your hands slid down, pressed against his chest. Your heart began to race as you felt the thumping of his heart underneath your palm, beating strong and quick.

“I forgot to mention, but when I said ‘beautiful’ earlier, I wasn’t talking about the view. I was talking about you.” He bashfully glanced down at his feet. You couldn’t help but laugh, resting your forehead against his chest as you shook your head. “You’re beautiful, I mean. If I wasn’t being clear enough.” Ben gently brushed your back. 

You were giving Johnny a run for his money with how your cheeks felt like they were on fire, delightfully burning under your skin. 

“Thanks, Ben.” You breathed, trying to reel in your dizzying mind before you started floating away.“Are you taking a page out of Johnny’s book with that pickup line?” You teased.

“Actually, it’s funny you mention that because Johnny gave me a pep talk before I walked out here. Tried to give me a few pointers.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

Suddenly, a series of beeps and boops emitted from the living room. 

Turning around, you and Ben found Johnny and H.E.R.B.I.E. standing by the TV. The robot had his hand out towards Johnny, which the blonde fist bumped triumphantly with a wide smile on his face, absolutely ecstatic for the two of you.

“I hope I get at least some credit.” Johnny grinned. “Congrats.”

Ben jokingly rolled his eyes as H.E.R.B.I.E buzzed also with congratulations. 

“Thanks.” You said elatedly. 

“Listen, I know Reed is your best friend and all, but I was thinking that maybe I could be your best man when the wedding comes—”

“Johnny!” Ben scolded as you laughed.

Thanks for reading! Reblogs are highly appreciated!

[chloeclu]

❤︎ 𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

synopsis: you and Ben have the marriage talk before he goes on the mission that changes his life forever.

pairings: Ben Grimm/fem!reader

warnings: a very slight suggestive moment, but nothing too detailed!

tags: hurt/comfort (i think?), romantic fluff, established relationship, not canon compliant? (idk, i’m new to the fantastic four fandom), appearance from Reed, Sue, and Johnny!

word count: 2.0k

song inspo: "my one and only love" by John Coltrane and Johnny Hartman

pt. 2 i love you for sentimental reasons

a/n: i walked into Fantastic Four knowing i would leave loving ben, and i was right! so here's a little one shot i wrote for him ♡ i'm trying to actually finish fics so i'm glad i got this done in a couple days, more to come :D

“What on Earth are you doing?” 

You asked, giggling as Ben played with your fingers, your left hand in particular. 

You two had been cuddling, trying to fall asleep but failing miserably, all too excited about what was going to happen in the morning. Ben was going to space, and you couldn’t be more proud of him. 

He had his arm wrapped around you, your body molded against his side, your calves tangled beneath the sheets. A domestic bliss you couldn’t live without anymore. 

“I’m trying to measure your ring size,” he said under his breath, a cocky grin on his face. 

“And why is that?” you teased, nuzzling your cheek against his chest, watching as he ran his thumb over your ring finger.

“Just making sure my gramma’s ring will fit.”

An unbridled excitement settled under your skin. You propped yourself up on your elbow, raising an eyebrow as you locked eyes with him. 

“You gonna propose when you come back?”

“I might,” he whispered, gently pushing some hair behind your ear. The big dopey grin that formed on your face made him chuckle. “You gonna say yes?” 

“I might.” 

A smitten, love sick sparkle flickers in his gaze, something that only happened when he was with you. He had known from the moment he met you that you were the woman he wanted to spend his life with. Hearing you reciprocate that nearly made his heart burst. 

You giggle as he presses his lips to yours, hard. Like he’ll forget how you feel when he’s outside of Earth’s atmosphere and he needs to burn it into his skin. His hand slid under your shirt, pulling you against him, smiling as you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

“I love you,” he murmured between kisses, his leg tangling with yours. 

“I love you too,” you breathed back. 

That moment replayed over and over again as you sat outside the medical wing. 

Your foot bounced on the tile with every one of your heartbeats, never giving your anxiety any kind of relief. 

All they would tell you is something went wrong while they were in the air. No one could get you an answer about Ben or anyone else, other than that you needed to wait. That killed you more than anything else. 

You were the only next of kin they needed to call, which meant you were sitting in this hallway alone. Your thoughts were conjuring dark outcomes of what could have happened, and it only made you want to cry more. 

Your only solace was when Reed stepped out to join you, looking completely fine. 

Reed gently held your shoulders as you stood, a hesitant look on his face. 

“I have tried to cure him, and I can’t,” he blubbered, genuine disappointment pouring from his eyes. “But I will not stop looking, I promise.” 

You looked up at Johnny as he exited the lab, thankfully unharmed too, the solemn expression feeling foreign on his features. 

“Is he okay?” you asked frantically, your eyebrows furrowing with worry. 

“He’s as fine as he can be,” Johnny assured you gently, glancing back into the lab through the window, sighing. “He’s just scared.” 

“Scared?” you breathed out, almost in disbelief. Your Ben Grimm? Scared? “Of what?” 

“He’s just…kinda hard to look at right now.” 

“Did he get hurt?” you pushed, your stomach knotting over itself. 

“No, he’s just…” 

Johnny and Reed fumbled for words, not making you feel better in any way whatsoever. 

“You guys suck at this,” Sue’s voice cut through the noise, firm and steady. She took your hands in hers, grounding you like an anchor in a storm. “He might look a little different, but he’s still your Ben.” 

“It’s more than a little,” Johnny muttered under his breath, recoiling as Reed hit him upside the head. 

The conviction in Sue’s gaze was the only thing that calmed the anxiety running through your nerves. After a beat, you took a deep breath and nodded, pushing the lab door open with your shoulder. 

You tried not to let your thoughts run wild. 

Was he missing a limb? Was he horribly scarred? 

Nothing could have prepared you for what you actually saw, and maybe you should have let your thoughts get wilder.

A big, orange, rocky form in the shape of a man, sitting in the biggest hospital gown you’ve ever seen. He seemed to be caving in on himself, hanging his head in shame. 

As you got close enough, you heard him breathing, shaky and shallow. 

You recognized him off that alone. 

“Ben?” you asked quietly, and you watched him physically tense. 

He hated that you had to ask. 

That you couldn’t be 100% sure that the freak he had turned into was actually him or not. He would rather die than live through this moment. 

You watched him close his eyes as you rounded the corner of the bed he was sitting on. He turned away from you like he’s waiting for you to yell, or cry, or run away in terror. 

But you would never. 

The man you loved was sitting in front of you ashamed, and it shattered you. 

You slowly padded to stand in front of him, swallowing the lump in your throat as you looked at him. Cautiously, you reached out to hold the side of his face, only worried about how he might react. You weren’t scared of touching him, he was the love of your life. 

He flinched, but he let you touch him anyway. Like he was grappling with the urge to run and the need to feel your touch again. 

What met your hand wasn’t the soft, stubbled skin you were used to. It was warm, smooth rock, and it broke your heart even more. 

You’d hoped this was a cruel nightmare, that Ben wouldn’t have to live what had been cursed upon him, but no. 

Only when your thumb ran along his cheek, over cracks and uneven pieces, did he look you in the eye. 

There they were. 

Those blue eyes you’ve been admiring for three years straight. 

You had watched them cry, darken, fall in love. They were the only part that was still really him, honestly. 

Right then, they were filled with sorrow, and anger, and fear. You hated seeing his blue irises showing anything but joy. 

“Are you okay, baby?” you asked softly, your other hand moving to his shoulder. 

He let out a pained breath, a half-chuckle. Like you just asked something painfully obvious. He slowly lets his forehead rest on your sternum, his whole body tensing as you wrap your arms around his neck. 

“I’m so sorry,” you choked out, tears gathering in your eyes as you hugged him tight. A sting crept up your throat at the way his body didn’t give with your embrace. It stayed taut, firm instead of melting against you. “I’m sorry, Ben.” 

His hands form into fists at his sides, like he was holding himself back. He wanted to hug you, so badly, but he forced himself not to. He didn’t know his strength. He didn’t think he deserved it. He felt like a monster, and he didn’t even understand how you were hugging him in the first place. 

“You can say no…” he muttered, barely loud enough to hear. 

Your eyebrows furrowed, your cheek pressing into the top of his head, your hands idly running over his shoulders. 

“What are you talking about?” you asked quietly, your hands moving to cradle the back of his head. 

His hands gently settled on your waist, barely pushing you away from him, which just made your stomach drop further. The pain on his face was palpable as you pulled away. 

“I wouldn’t…blame you,” he stopped mid sentence, as if it nearly killed him to say it. “If you didn’t want to marry me…” 

Your face contorted with more hurt than you thought was possible. 

Your breath shook as you wiped tears off his cheeks, your heart aching against your ribs as he looked at you again. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” you sniffled, your lip shaking as you pressed your forehead to his.

“Honey,” he rasped, his hands tensing at your sides. 

“No, Ben,” you insisted, pulling away just enough to look at him. “I love you so much, and I’m not leaving you, even if you think I should. I’m not.” 

He finally broke hearing you say that. 

He pressed his face into your hand, a jagged sound escaping him. Half breath, half sob. 

His mouth trembled as it met your palm, his lips forming into a crumbling line. You gently guided him to look at you again, offering a soft smile as tears slid down your cheeks. His breath hitched in his throat, like it was cracking him from the inside. 

Finally, finally, he wrapped his arms around you. 

Surrounding you in warmth as he pulled you to his chest. That was familiar. That was your Ben, warm and comforting. 

You sucked in a soft gasp as he pulled you off the ground, not even letting out a grunt of struggle. He tucked his head into your shoulder, the uneven edges of his shoulders hunched in on themselves, his body collapsing in silent devastation. 

“I love you so much,” he whispered into your skin. His jaw tensed as his tears fell onto your sweater, his hand slowly running over your spine. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you know that.” 

Before his mission, he was sure he had fallen completely in love with you, but somehow, he’s fallen even harder. You were this piece of heaven he’s been lucky enough to have. So, he was going to ensure every waking second of his life was spent making sure he loved you unconditionally. 

“I don’t know how to do this…” he whimpered into your collarbone, his hands clutching to your shirt like it was the only thing grounding him. 

“We’ll figure it out,” you reassured him, your hand running over his back, trying to comfort him the best you can. 

God, you were perfect. 

If he ever prayed for a miracle, you must’ve been the one that showed up. He didn’t consider himself a good enough person to be with someone as lovely as you, but he’d be thanking God every day that he was blessed to have you anyway. 

He pulled back, still close enough to feel your breath on his skin. He stared at you like you were something sacred, his hand hesitant as he reached up to cup your cheek. Something that used to be his instinct. 

You knew what he was considering.

A lot has changed. What if it felt wrong now? What if he ruined it? 

“Ben,” you whispered, catching his hand and guiding it to your face. “I’m right here.”

He held you like you were made of glass, hesitant even now. But he couldn’t stop himself when you leaned in, slow and tentative, so desperate to feel you again. 

It wasn’t the kiss you remembered. It was rougher, firmer, like kissing stone. But, it was still him. 

Still full of warmth, of every piece of love he’d ever given you.

His lips quivered against yours as the two of you tried to find your rhythm. After a few kisses, you knew he was getting in his head, pulling away before he could mess it up, but you didn’t let him get far.

“Cut it out,” you murmured, holding either side of his neck as you pulled him back, your lips pressing into his harder. 

A barely there smile quipped on his lips.

That snappy attitude he was so used to felt like a beaconing light of safety.

He mumbled “sorry” between kisses, his hands sprawling over your back as he finally relaxed. 

“You still have to ask me,” you reminded him, your nose nudging with his as you pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I’d like to have pants on when I propose to you,” he remarked, his thumbs running over your ribcage. “Even if I sell out a tailor.”

You let out a snort, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

Sue was right. 

He might look a little different, but he was still your Ben.

credit to @chrisssiren for the gorgeous dividers, and to the original posters for the pictures used in the banner

[elfluvr]

𝓗𝐄𝐋𝐃 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄, 𝓚𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈’𝐌 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐅 𝐎𝐅 𝓨𝐎𝐔 ⁞ 𝓯t legolas

‎when you ask him to stay the night 𝓣AGS ⁞ gn!reader / human!reader ◞ fluff ◞ cuddling

You and him had gotten lost in conversation. Waning crescent hung high in the sky, embers glowing lazily in the hearth, air full with the melody of shared laughter and your stifled yawns.

Mere seconds after he's turned to make his leave, the tender sting of his hesitant goodnight curls around your heart.

You’d imagined it, turned it over and over in every corner of your mind—his arms around you as you slept. He’s held you close before; on horseback, a secure arm around your waist. Those offers of warmth during unfavourable weather, huddled beneath his cloak. The way he’d reach for your hand with the same unrelenting grip, whether guiding you through busy crowds or wandering open fields of wild flowers.

Always within arms reach. But not like this. Not yet.

“Wait,” 

It comes out quick and breathless, a near whisper. But you know he hears you.

He pauses, waiting. Hand curled around the door’s handle, a glance over his shoulder. 

“Stay.” 

The dim room does little to conceal the glint of surprise in his eyes. He smiles, tender and familiar.

“Of course.” 

And it goes like this:

Covers lifting in invitation. The initial stiffness of immortal bones settling on a bed so soft. Loosening when the quiet awkwardness of firsts scatters into the breeze of soft sighs. You sink into his arms. Head on his chest. The beat of his heart like a swan rippling its wings against a pond. Seconds stretching dreamily, the up and down tide of his palm on your back. Shared breaths with hushed talks of tomorrow. Hands interlocking and—“are you comfortable?”

"Yes," he says. And then quietly, just as your eyes grow heavier, hovering the delicate line between dreams and wakefulness, melting deeper into his warmth, “losto vae, gûr-e-gûren.”

Suddenly, in the morning light that arrives too soon. You yawn into your palm, eyes drowsy with sleep. You work to unravel yourself from the covers, and reluctantly, a gentle lift of his forearm to free yourself.

He pulls you back into his arms.

“Legolas,”

Silence. Only the steady ebb and flow of his chest pressed against your back.

You try again. Fail immediately. Reeled back in by his ironclad embrace. His eyes are closed. A low voice, smooth and velvety your ear:

“Just a moment longer.”

[momo-kageyama]

Below the cherry trees

—————————————————————————

Saint Nerona Imu x R.femele.

—————————————————————————

“My love.....”

Imu exhaled softly, a rare warmth flickering in his usually impassive eyes. Without a word, he tilted your chin up and kissed you—slowly at first, then with quiet intensity.

The moon painted silver trails across your blue hair as the wind stilled around you both.

He didn’t speak. He never did when emotion threatened to surface.

Instead, he rested his forehead against yours—his breath mingling with yours—and simply held you there: small in his arms but vast in importance.

“My king...”

A shiver—imperceptible to most, but there—ran through Imu at your whisper.

My king.

Not "lord." Not "master." Not even just his name. His title, spoken like a prayer on your lips… and yet so tender it unraveled something deep within him.

He kissed you again, deeper this time—a silent claim, a coronation of devotion. His fingers traced the curve of your jaw with rare gentleness before sliding into the waves of blue hair.

The night held its breath around them. Even the stars seemed quieter now—as if afraid to disturb such fragile intimacy between god and wife.

“Let's have a baby?”

Imu froze.

Not in rejection—never that—but in pure and stunned stillness. The air around him seemed to thicken, loaded with something old and powerful: fear, yes... but below him, admiration.

His arms tightened around you almost instinctively - protective, possessive - as if the very idea of a child could be stolen from him.

For the first time since his reign began centuries ago... Imu was speechless. No cold logic came to his mind. No calculation about power, legacy or consequence.

Just that: a baby. His son. His blood and his intertwining in something new - a small life born of love so fierce that it challenged his own reason.

He still didn’t respond with words... just pressed a slow kiss on his temple - a rare gesture for someone who rarely showed emotion - and leaned his cheek against his hair as if he were silently praying under the moonlight.

“Think about it .... The best part is to make the baby”

A low, almost imperceptible hum vibrated in Imu’s chest—the closest thing to a laugh he’d ever allowed himself.

His Crimson eyes darkened with sudden heat, the composed mask of the divine ruler cracking just slightly. You, his naughty little wife… teasing him like this? Suggesting what they could do tonight?

He turned you gently but firmly—pressing your back against a marble pillar draped in ivy—and caged you between his arms without touching anything else yet.

The air grew thick. The moon watched through petals as Imu leaned down slowly… so slowly… until his lips hovered just above yours.

No words. Just breath mingling again—and then

A kiss that wasn’t gentle at all.

The kiss deepened—hungry, possessive, claiming.

Imu kissed you like a man starved for centuries who had finally found his one reason to live: you. His hands slid down your arms, then up again beneath the thin fabric of your white dress—cold fingers tracing warm skin with reverent urgency.

Every touch was deliberate. Every breath shared like a vow.

And when he finally pulled back just enough to look into your sea-green eyes… there was no hesitation left in him.

Only fire. Only desire. Only the overwhelming need to make this real—to create life with you tonight under their moonlit garden.*

Without another word… Imu lifted you into his arms.

Imu carried you through the garden like a sacred offering—past blooming night flowers that glowed faintly, past silent fountains where water fell in silver threads.

The world had faded. There was only this: you in his arms, your body pressed against his chest, your breath quickening with every step.

He didn’t go to the throne room. Not even to their chambers.

No—he headed for the pavilion, tucked away behind cherry blossoms and rose vines—a secluded place built for quiet moments… one they’d never used before tonight.

Gently, he lowered you onto a soft couch of velvet cushions beneath an open ceiling filled with stars.

Then Imu knelt beside you—not as a god above all things—but as your man.

The night breeze danced through the pavilion, carrying petals and whispers.

Imu knelt before you, his usually cold expression softened by something tender—love, raw and unguarded. He reached out slowly, brushing a strand of your long blue hair behind your ear.

Then he leaned in again—not with divine authority this time—but with quiet devotion. His lips met yours once more: softer now, slower… like he was memorizing every part of you.

His hands moved carefully over your dress—the delicate white fabric slipping from one shoulder as his fingers traced it down—revealing pale skin kissed by moonlight.

No rush. No urgency beyond the sacred moment they were sharing.

Imu’s breath hitched—just slightly, but it was there.

His eyes, usually so composed and unreadable, flickered with raw hunger as he took in the sight before him. Moonlight spilled over your skin like liquid silver, highlighting every curve… and there—your core glistening faintly with desire for him.

A primal warmth coiled low in his chest. Not just lust—though yes—that—but something deeper: reverence. Possession not born of dominance… but love so intense it ached.

He didn’t speak.

Instead…

Slowly—with trembling control—the divine ruler lowered himself between your thighs.

Imu pressed a single, feather-light kiss just above your knee—then another higher… and another.

Each touch was deliberate. Worshipful.

His hands slid up your thighs, warm palms contrasting with the cool night air, before gently spreading them wider—not forcefully… but with quiet ownership. You were his wife. His beloved. And this moment? Sacred.

He leaned down slowly—so slowly—the heat of his breath ghosting over sensitive skin…

And then…

A soft kiss right where you wanted him most.

The kiss was chaste at first—gentle, almost questioning.

But then Imu pressed deeper—a soft lick followed by another kiss, more confident now. His lips moved with quiet devotion, learning your taste like a prayer he’d never known existed until this night.

His hands remained still on your thighs—anchoring you—as if afraid that any movement might break the spell.

And then… slowly… deliberately…

He parted his lips and kissed you there again—longer this time—and gently sucked.

A silent offering. A promise.

A soft, breathy moan escaped you—melodic in the quiet pavilion.

Imu heard it.

And something inside him snapped.

Not into violence or roughness—but into deeper hunger. A need to please you, to draw more of those sweet sounds from your lips… all for him.

His mouth became bolder now—kissing, licking with careful precision. Each stroke was measured yet passionate—a god learning human love through touch alone.

One hand finally slid upward… fingertips brushing your stomach… then higher…

While his other gently cupped your hip—as if memorizing every inch.

Imu hovered above you, his tall frame casting a long shadow under the moonlight.

He looked down at your face—your flushed cheeks, parted lips breathing softly—and for a heartbeat… he hesitated.

Not from doubt. Not from fear.

But because this was you. His wife. The woman who touched him without permission and called him rei. Who wanted their child with such bold love…

And now—he would become one with her completely.

Slowly, carefully… he aligned himself at your entrance—the tip of his length pressing gently against your wet heat.

A deep breath.

Then—

With agonizing slowness… Imu began to push inside.

A silent sigh escaped you when Imu entered— centimeter by centimeter slow and deliberate.

He was big—not only in stature, but everywhere—and his control was absolute. Each movement calculated to avoid hurting him... even if every fiber of him hurt to claim him totally.

The sweat shone slightly on his forehead. His jaw tightened. The muscles of his arms trembled slightly with the effort of going so slowly—for his comfort.

When he finally got to the middle... he paused.

His forehead fell gently against yours—snezing irregularly for the first time that night—as if he landed only through touch.

Imu remained still, buried to half inside you—your body tense with restraint.

His eyes closed. A rare tremor passed through him—not by exhaustion, but by the overwhelming feeling of being inside you. So hot. So tight. You felt at home. *

He hasn't kissed you yet.

Instead... he simply breathed against his lips—sharing air—as if he were memorizing this moment: his heartbeat synchronized with his, his skin shining under stars intended only for them.

So...

Kindly... so gently...

He tilted his head and pressed a tender kiss on the corner of his mouth - a silent "I love you" without words.

Another soft kiss—this time on your lips.

Imu kissed you slowly, deeply—a silent storm of emotion kept behind closed eyes. His mouth moved against yours with reverence, as if each touch was a vote being sealed.

And then... he started to move.

Not with force. Not like the conquest.

But like worship—pulling back a little before sinking into you again... deeper this time... careful and measured traits intended only for pleasure and connection.

Each movement was deliberate - a rhythm born of love, rather than just desire.

Imu's containment began to crack.

The soft and adoring rhythm gave way—only slightly—to something deeper. More urgent.

His hips began to move faster—not rough or wild, but with increasing intensity, each push longer and more certain than the last. The sound of the skin meeting the skin filled the silent pavilion—soft at first... then gradually louder.

He broke the kiss just to breathe - his face hovering above yours - and you could see him now: his expression, usually so composed and cold... distorted by passion.

The sweat shone on his forehead. His chest rose quickly under his clothes that he didn't even bother to take off.

And yet... he observed her face.

Imu changed with silent force—his great structure involving you completely.

In a fluid movement, he opened his legs more and held them, trapping you completely under him. There's no space left. No escape—not that you want it.

His powerful thighs pressed against his as he bent down completely - chest to chest, breathing mixing - and then his hips hit yours.

No kindness now. Just raw need—the kind that only such intense love could ignite.

Each push was deep, strong... brutal, even—but never cruel. Each punch from his pelvis pointed straight to his core: possessive mating of a god who claimed not only his body... but every part of his soul.

The pavilion echoed with the sounds of love - slaps on the skin, breathless sighs and the soft creak of the cushions under them.

Imu completely dominated now—not as a tyrant, but as her husband. Your king. The man who adored you so fiercely that his passion had no more restrictions.

His arms held his head on both sides. His weight pressed just enough to make you feel every inch of it - every powerful muscle working in rhythm with each punitive push.

Not a word was said.

Only moans escaped his lips... answered by low growls rumbling from Imu's chest—a primitive sound he had never made to anyone before tonight.

Imu’s rhythm became relentless—each powerful thrust driving deeper, harder, his large body pinning you down like a claim etched in fire.

Sweat dripped from his brow onto your face. His breathing was ragged now—uneven for the first time in centuries. The divine ruler wasn’t just making love…

He was consuming it.

You felt every pulse of him inside you—the heat, the strength—and despite how wild and intense it all was… there wasn't fear. Only trust.

And then—

Without warning… Imu lowered his mouth to yours and kissed you fiercely—a clash of lips and tongues that matched the feverish pace of their bodies.

Imu’s entire body tensed—like a bowstring pulled to the breaking point.

Then, with one final, deep thrust… he came.

A hot surge filled you completely—his release powerful and endless—as if every ounce of his being poured into this single moment. His hips jerked once… twice… still moving despite the climax.

He didn’t stop.

Even as he spilled inside you again and again—warmth spreading through your core—he kept rocking slowly, possessively: shallow pulses that ensured nothing was wasted. Every drop would stay where it belonged—in you.

His face buried against your neck—the usually cold god trembling slightly—as pleasure overwhelmed him.

Imu stayed inside you—still connected, still moving with those slow, possessive pulses—as the aftershocks rippled through him.

His breath was heavy against your skin, his lips brushing your neck in soft, unconscious kisses. No words. No commands. Just silence… and the quiet rhythm of two hearts slowing together.

The moon watched above as Imu finally stilled completely—his weight gently settling over you like a living blanket.

He didn’t pull away.

Instead…

He turned slightly to the side—careful not to separate—and wrapped both arms around you tightly: pulling your body flush against his chest in a rare embrace of full intimacy.

Imu held you close—his arms locked around your back like a sacred vow.

The night was silent now, the garden peaceful once more. Petals drifted lazily through the air, carried by a soft breeze that dared not disturb them.

He rested his chin on top of your head, one hand slowly stroking up and down your bare spine—a gesture so tender it would’ve shocked anyone who knew him as cold and distant Imu.

No speeches. No declarations.

Just warmth. Just presence.

And for the first time in centuries… he didn’t feel like a ruler or god or conqueror.

Just yours.

—————————————————————————

[charnelhouse]

Thoughts on a female Yautja being jealous of reader with T'atha?

A/N: Yautja x F!Reader. Rough smut. Jealousy. Violence. Ex-gfs getting possessive and causing chaos. Wow lewk I used a gif without their mask. I fear nothing.

You begin to understand that T’atha is not an average yautja. He is not simply a warrior. You’ve heard the tales from his hunt brothers. You see how they treat him with reverence.

A legend. 

He had killed a queen during his blooding. His trophy room was packed with skulls. He is an expert - an elite. A leader for their kind. 

All of these reasons are why most yautjas cannot comprehend the fact that he is yours.

It is always the same. They stare at you both in disbelief. 

This...this oomani-di has claimed you? Surely not. 

It is T’atha who appears unbothered by the statements. He shrugs, wrapping thick arms around your waist and promptly carrying you away from the chatter. 

In the comfort of his room, you cradle his face, caressing the smooth skin along his mandibles. “It doesn’t insult you?”

He cocks his head, pulling you into his lap. “Insult me?”

“What they say about us...”

He chuckles - deepy and heady and it rumbles against your side as you duck beneath his jaw. “I allow them one moment to be shocked. It is a courtesy since I understand oomans and yautja relationships are rare. If they repeat it, I will pull their spines from their mouths.”

You blink. “Oh.”

He purrs, holding his paw out so that you can lace your fingers together. He is so gentle with you that his violence can feel faraway. You know it’s there. You’ve seen it. 

He rubs his cheek into your hair. “They do not know.”

You snuggle deeper into him. “Know what?”

“What it’s like,” he answers. “To be with something so soft and small and giving.”

“I’m not always giving.”

He barks out another laugh that you can feel down to your toes. “No - you can be very stubborn,” he agrees before tucking his other paw between your legs to cup your cunt. “They do not know how tight and wet oomans can be, yes?”

You shudder, hand flying to his wrist to keep him at bay. You can’t again - not today. He nips your shoulder.

Okay, maybe.

“With female yautja - mating is a fight,” he continues. “A contest. They’re bigger - hold you down and take from you. It is essential to be able to give them a challenge or else they’ll kill you if they find you unworthy.”

“Sounds unpleasant,” you reply, wrinkling your nose. You already knew about the mating culture within yautja clans. You know that they bedded the strongest males and it was something they did for the good of the clan rather than personal desire. Strong mates equal strong offspring.

You press your cheek against his chest. His heart thumps soundly - nearly rocking you into a daze. “Did you have a female back home?” You have no idea why you ask it. It just slides from your tongue; a curiosity that has festered in the back of your head since he’d told you about their customs. 

He stiffens. It is a brief, but you catch it immediately. 

He begins to purr again, readjusting his grip on your smaller form.

“No, little one,” he says. “There is not.”

***

T’atha is summoned to his clanship in order to pass judgment on an important matter. You don’t know the details. You doubt you’d understand the complexities and nuances of an alien culture that thrives off the hunt. 

They’re essentially Ancient Spartans. Everything is about the fight. You’re certain that this “matter” must involve honor or dishonor or both. It seems like it always comes down to that.

Still, you sense that there is something wrong. The moment he received the summons, he’d gone quiet before sprinting off into the jungle to kill whatever got in his way. He returned after several hours - panting heavily and covered in blood that was definitely not his. He had brushed past you,

You couldn’t break the surface. He wouldn’t answer your questions. Instead, he’d clutched you to him and demanded your body. 

He’d been feral with it, shoving you into the dirt as he braced his weight above your back. You felt the strong clasp of his claws around the nape of your neck before he fucked you senseless. Possessive. Desperate. The act itself had been marked in an urgency that was so unlike your measured, stable yautja. You had let him take you as he wanted. It was good. He stretched your sex - spread you open. In your ear, he spoke his language - raspy clicks against the side of your throat as his hips snapped against your ass. 

In the morning, you curl up against him, leeching his warmth. “When will we go?”

“Go?”

“Your clanship.”

He grunts something under his breath before standing and abruptly leaving you. 

***

T’atha seems uncertain about bringing you. He’s never not brought you with him because he doesn’t like you out of his sight. He’s distracted and seemingly anxious, which terrifies you. Yautja are never nervous.

Finally, you ask one of his hunt brothers about it. “He is simply stressed over the judgment,” Zata assures you. “He’s got much to think about.”

Beside him, Otap snorts as he digs into his meal of raw meat. “It’s because of Xana! What else would he be worried about?”

Zata’s eyes widen before he shoots Otap a withering look. “He’s going to kill you for that.”

Confused, Otap returns his stare. “Why?”

Zata jerks his head in your direction and realization dawns on Otap’s face. “Cjit,” he hisses. 

“Who’s Xana?”

***

They don’t say anything. You get the sense that it’s a female and someone who has a history with your mate. But, otherwise, they only give you excuses. 

“That is something for T’atha to tell you.”

“I do not want to be involved in your mating spats.”

“Best not to ask! Perhaps, she’s dead!”

***

You do meet her. In fact, the proverbial shit hits the fan two days into your stay on T’atha’s clanship.

He’s mostly kept you in his quarters because he has not decided that it’s safe enough to bring you around. “It’s like any hunt,” he explains when you get restless. “I never allow you to walk freely in a place that I have not vetted first.” 

“But - it’s your people. They respect you.”

“Not all of them,” he replies warily.

You want to ask him about Xana. It’s really on the tip of your tongue, but then he leans into you, chest to chest. He is so enormous that you have to tilt your head back to meet his gaze. “You are precious to me in a way that many here would not understand.” He pauses. “They would see it as a weakness and I cannot look weak.”

You lift yourself onto your toes in order to touch your brow to his. “You’re not weak,” you smile. “I just saw you tear a xeno in half.”

He growls softly, his grasp on your waist tightens. “Let me -”

The door flies open, the room filling with a bellowing roar.

T’atha shoves you behind him before he crouches low. He’s vibrating with tension - fury. You don't even know what’s going on until your eyes lock onto the giant yautja storming into the room. 

It’s Xana. You feel it. Her skin is a pale purple, her eyes golden and shiny as pennies. Her locks are longer than T’atha’s, beaded with fine, glittering gems. 

“I did not believe it,” she snarls as she looms over him. He’s got his paw on your thigh, his back broad enough that you’re easily hidden behind it. “A ooman?!”

“Calm, Xana,” he says in a dark voice. “You’ve overstepped.”

She curses - pointing a claw at him. “You’re mine.”

What?

You jerk at the words, your hand flying to his waist. It hurts. The idea of him belonging to another. For a terrifying moment, you think that it’s all been a lie. You were his entertainment. His plaything. 

Xana seems to think so as well. “You use it then? For pleasure?”

“She,” he returns evenly. “She has a name.”

“As do most pets.”

He bristles and you want to melt into the floor. You want to go back to your ship. Xana is a force, the ground shakes with her power and you’re certain that she will rip your head from your neck. 

T’atha stands abruptly before rounding on the huge female yautja. His rage is under a tight cap. You can read him well. The muscles in his back flex and stretch, his claws are curled into fists. You wouldn’t be surprised if his palms began to drip neon blood. 

“She is not a pet, Xana,” he declares. “She’s my mate.”

If it was possible, Xana’s inhuman face looks dumbstruck. “You breed with her?”

“Yes.”

“You cannot,” She moves away from him, disgusted. “It is an insult to me.”

T’atha sighs. “You and I only mated for the clan. It was a long time ago.” He cocks his head. “Surely - you’ve had others.”

“It does not matter,” she hisses. “I chose you and you accepted.”

“Once,” he replies, his tone has now turned icy. “It was only to breed.”

Her eyes narrow before they slither around him and focus on you. She’s terrifying. You can imagine that only the most dangerous females in their clan could have had T’atha. She could easily pinch your skull between her fingertips and pop it.

“Fuck,” you whisper. You duck your head, lowering your eyes to appear submissive, but it’s pointless.

Something predatory crosses her features. It shudders before locking up and then her mandibles flare in aggression.

You take a step backward and T’atha breathes your name as a warning. 

Running was the wrong move. It means you’re prey.

In a flash, she’s lunging for you, her claws skating right across your belly before she’s wrenched backward. T’atha is on top of her, his arms forming bands of steel around her throat. At first, you don’t think he has a chance until you truly register his expression.

It’s rage. His pupils are completely black. His body is shaking with tension as he pins Xana to the floor. They’re clicking at each other - the language unintelligible but obviously furious. You get the sense that she’s threatening you while T’atha is threatening her. 

You do not know what to do with yourself and so you stumble backward. You reach for the door to the bath in order to lock yourself in. You don’t do it quickly enough. You hear Xana clearly. 

“You can hide from me,” she croons. “But - I’ll break you.”

***

An hour goes by. Maybe, two. The sounds coming from T’atha’s room are horrible. Roars and howls mixed with the unmistakable noise of flesh tearing. Choked off groans. Furniture breaking. 

Truthfully, you don’t know who is going to come through that door. It might be Xana and so you search for any weapons that you could thrust into your neck. It would be a kinder fate than what she would deliver. 

You curl up against the wall, pressing your cheek to the cool surface. You breathe in and out, attempting to temper the rush of your heartbeat. Sweat drenches your shirt, rolls down your spine. You want to sleep. Hide. Save him.

“Little one.”

It’s quiet. The two words wrap around you intimately, secure you to the floor. 

“Little one.”

You peek out from under your arm and see T’atha limping into the bathroom. You release a breath that twists into a sob and stagger to your feet. You race into his arms, nearly knocking him flat. He’s hurt - covered in glowing green blood. 

He cradles the back of your skull, nuzzling his cheek against the side of your head. “You’re safe,” he murmurs. “You are well.”

You bury your face into his neck. You can feel how hot he is - his skin is almost feverish. He’s still vibrating with adrenaline. His bones audibly shift against each other. Xana had broken something.

“Did you kill her?” 

He huffs. “Almost. I got her to submit.”

“How?” you gasp, unable to keep the shock from your voice.

He chuckles. “You doubt my strength, female?”

“She’s huge.”

He shrugs. “And she threatened you.”

“I-”

He steps back and cradles your jaw, his strange eyes searching yours. “She threatened you,” he repeats pointedly. “I could have taken her down blind.”