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wife-of-all-dilfs · 6 months ago

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from the flames | b. blake

masterlist

summary: season three — to signify the newly recognised alliance between the sky people and the grounders, a celebration is held within polis’ market square. a bonfire, alcohol, and the bawdy pulsation of drums is a sure-fire recipe for a stimulating night. add a watchful bellamy blake and his dancing muse into the mix, and, well… i’ll show you the consequences of such a potent combination.

pairing: bellamy blake x fem!reader

warnings: alcohol consumption/intoxication, sensual dancing, jealousy, sexual desecration??, mild possessiveness, arguments, bellamy speaking in trigedaslang (giggling and kicking my feet), dialogue-heavy, manhandling, mild angst, smut, unprotected p in v (do not), reader is short because i’m short, deal with it <3

notes: i haven’t recently been watching the 100 so the timeline and characterisation may be a little off. also, ik this took me a long ass time, but i’m gonna try and make sure the next two parts come out a little quicker <3 i love y’all!

word count: 2.5k

“People of Kongeda and Skaikru, tonight we gather as one, united by a common purpose and a shared future of alliance. Before us, this bonfire symbolises more than just a flame; it is a beacon of hope, an opportunity to cleanse old grudges and pain that has divided us for far too long.

“Let this fire signify a new beginning and serve as a reminder that unity is not our weakness, but our strength. Let it be known that from this day, we join not as enemies, but as allies, and anyone set upon spilling the blood of our allies is spilling the blood of us all. Let it be known: Jus drein, jus daun!”

“Jus drein, jus daun!”

As much as Lexa’s words intended to inspire harmony, the crowd massed below the second-floor balcony of the dominating tower she resided on reacted in any way but. Fierce declarations of worship were cried out; large fists were pumped in celebration; and misty clouds of brew and saliva were sprayed into the tepid night air.

All was well, for the first time since we landed on Earth.

“Happy Unity Day,” I murmured to myself, taking a sip from the metal cup in my hand. I was standing on the outer edges of the unruly crowd of dark, rugged figures, who were surrounding an unlit wooden mountain and raving as it abruptly burst into vociferous flames.

The monstrous tepee of sticks was raging at the centre of Polis’ trading square, an open area bordered with stalls and operating food vendors that infused the air with a salivating meaty aroma. Glimmers of light chipped away into the familiar starry night above and an orange ambience was cast throughout the square, seeming to blaze beneath the skin of those who orbited the fire.

It was a somewhat perplexing scene: to be together as one people, celebratingratherthan being at war with one another.

A pensive mechanic stepped in beside me, eyeing the mixed crowd of Grounders and Sky People.

Raven folded her arms over her chest. “Don’t you think the fact that the Ark originally had thirteen stations and the coalition now has thirteen clans is kind of…”

“Unsettling?” I finished for her. “Yeah. Probably best not tell these guys the story of how Polaris got blown out of the sky. Don’t want to give them any ideas.”

“Polaris… Polis…” she continued contemplating. “Think there’s anything equally unsettling about that?”

I looked at Raven. She looked back at me.

I sucked in a sharp breath—“I’m not drunk enough for this conversation”—and tipped the harsh contents of my cup down my throat. The liquid was molten in both its ferocity and colour and was infused with some potent earthly spice; it was a blow to the stomach upon consumption.

“Is that such a good idea?” Raven asked, judging me as my head craned back to capture the last few drops of throat-scorching goodness. “I’m all for pouring a glass when the occasion calls for it, but these people have stomachs lined with steel—what do you think yours is made of?”

I grimaced at the taste. “You tell me. You’re the genius.”

The roll of her eyes was deafening. “I’m just saying, they’ve probably spent decades perfecting their drinks to suit them, to match their tolerances. I mean, even that human fountain over there couldn’t handle it.” She nodded towards a cluster of barrels where a titan of a man wearing armoured shoulder pads and breastplates was hunched over, violently emptying his stomach onto the cobbled ground.

I swallowed my own stomach at the sight.

“I just assumed you wanted to spend the night somewhat differently,” she said, a sweet undertone of provocation twisting her words.

My brows furrowed, and I turned to face her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Her lips twitched at the corners—never a good sign.

The thing was, I knew exactly what she meant. Her unspoken words had already been circling my mind for days, weeks, months even, increasingly accumulating with both heat and fervour.

As ironic as it was, I think it’s fitting to compare my situation to that of a star’s formation.

There I was, a delinquent sitting stagnant in a cold nebula of misery in the Sky Box, parted from my family and friends, sent hurtling to Earth to die, only then to have my cold, miserable cloud intruded upon by a fiery presence, a head of tousled brown waves and a pair of rich, dark chocolate eyes.

An awakener. An activator.

This intruder began filling my head with his words, his laughter, his brooding stare. The weight of his presence began to grow; thoughts of him consumed me. From the most surprisingly vulnerable conversations to even the tensest arguments, he had a heat inside me swirling and it was sweltering to unfathomable heights. It showed no signs of stopping.

Raven’s malevolent brown eyes were pointing plainly at something far behind me as if to answer my question. I knew what I would see even before turning around to look, but moronic as I was, I looked anyway.

Chin hovering over my shoulder, my eyes wandered through the scattered crowd of Grounders and Sky People alike that loitered the bonfire’s outskirts. There, sandwiched between Lincoln and an unoccupied trading stall, was a face that not only had my stomach contents lodged in my throat, but my heart as well.

Bellamy.

He was standing with his arms crossed, each one concealed beneath his distressed guard jacket. And although his stance screamed ‘Don’t talk to me,’ his face said otherwise. He and Lincoln were engaged in some high-spirited conversation, much unlike themselves (although the supply of drinks may have been to blame). Bellamy was speaking through one of his overconfident half-grins while alternating between gesturing to-and-fro with a single hand and tucking it back under his opposing bicep.

My chest was burning; the bonfire somehow must’ve seeped into my heart.

It should be stated here that when a nebula accumulates enough particles, it turns into a protostar—not a main sequence star like our sun, but something that holds the potential to be. At this point, the formation is at its most precarious. If a sufficient amount of mass is not acquired, the protostar will fail to stabilise and will cool into a brown dwarf, forever existing in the cold, lonely expansion of space as a reminder of what it could have been.

Bellamy’s head gravitated in my direction. Our eyes met through the asteroid belt of rugged figures between us. My breath caught in my throat, and I turned back around.

A reminder of what it could have been.

Sometimes I worry my insufficiency has damned me already.

“Oh, my god.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “Oh my god, Raven, why would you put me through that?”

“In the hopes that you’ll finally grow a pair and do something about it,” she replied, taking a sip of her drink to conceal her smirk.

“About what?” Now I was just being evasive.

She let out a frustrated huff and folded her arms over one another. Her countenance was a reflection of impatience: the raised eyebrows, the slight downward tilt of her head, the pursed lips. I almost laughed at her theatricality; then again, I almost cried because I didn’t want the reason behind it to be true.

I wanted Bellamy Blake.

The confession was boiling inside me; it was burning the tip of my tongue, and I knew I had to let it out to cool. And if the words were never spoken to him, then they at least had to be expressed to someone else, even if I never admitted them in the exactness I felt, for the exact words would be so heinous, so—hedonistic, that if anyone were to hear them, I’d be thrown into lock-up for the rest of my days.

“Fine, I guess I’m… attracted to Bellamy,” I spoke slowly, cringing at my own words. Raven’s face immediately lit up like an overzealous Christmas tree, her smugly curved lips parting to no doubt release an incongruous stew of condemnation and encouragement, which I stopped before it could even start. “Anattraction that I am not going to act on, Raven; our friendship is rocky enough as it is. I mean,” I scoffed, “have I even told how we first met? I held a pocketknife to his neck our second night on the ground because he threatened to pry off my wristband in my sleep. And he actually tried! You know that tiny scar he has on his cheek? That was from me!”

“Yeah, sometimes I forget how much of a self-righteous dick he was for a while there,” Raven mused. Her face then screwed with confusion. “Wait, how did you two even become friends? Because when I came down, you were at each other’s throats every single day over one thing or another, and then out of nowhere, it was as if the slate had been wiped clean.”

Ah.

The day the slate had been wiped clean.

A thick blurriness blanketed my vision as my mind withdrew from the present. You know when you get run down with some kind of sickness and your mind gets all scrambled and foggy? Like a fever dream? That’s what that day seemed like to me. Too many unimaginable things had happened, too many emotions and losses were felt, and I’d only shared them with one person before.

“You still there?”

My gaze flickered to Raven momentarily. She was staring at me, half with impatience, half with concern. “Just—” I raised my hand slightly in front of me “—give me a second.”

I inhaled. One, two, three. And I exhaled. Three, two, one.

A vulnerable creature of some sort nestled in my brain, softening the tone of my voice as I hesitantly began, “It was the, uh, the day the Exodus Ship crashed. My dad was on it,” I said, my last words barely audible. “Knowing that he was gone was one thing, but watching the ship crash? That messed me up for a good while.”

Raven, taken aback, muttered her apologies. I just shook my head in return. I sucked in a sharp breath, forcing the memory into the cobwebbed corners of my mind, and then continued, “Bellamy had found me in the woods that night. It wasn’t exactly a pretty sight. I think that seeing me in such a vulnerable state forced him to set aside his asshole-ry for a while because he actually managed to… comfort me.”

I remembered the tone of his voice, so shockingly gentle yet hardened in his trademarked sort of way as he reassured me endlessly that I would be okay. I remembered the warmth of his body as I lay crumpled and sobbing in his lap on the forest floor, clinging onto his arm as if it kept me from plummeting into a bottomless pit. I remembered his hands, swiping away the thousands of tears that streaked my face, the hair from my eyes.

I remembered our brief conversation as we walked back to camp: “I won’t tell anyone. I promise,” he had said, to which I whispered, “Thank you,” and after a short pause, he spoke again, “We all need someone sometimes. I know we don’t have the best history together but… I can be that someone if you ever need,” and then, once more, with an unwelcome flutter in my stomach, I whispered, “Thank you.”

A small, bittersweet smile lifted my lips. My voice sounded distant to my ears as I continued speaking. “We still nicked at each other here and there after that—that tension between us has never really disappeared—but there was also this new mutual understanding. And somewhere from mutual understanding came a rough-around-the-edges friendship, and then friendship turned into something else.” I paused to recollect my thoughts. “Well, for me, at least.”

Between the moment I started speaking to the moment I stopped, my gaze had wandered sheepishly to the toes of my boots. I felt so exposed, like the outer layers of my being had been cracked open to reveal a part of my soul to a girl I hadn’t even known existed until two months ago. Suddenly I remembered why I didn’t drink often.

I stood awkwardly, waiting. The weight of my confession and vulnerability were looming above us.

Raven was quiet; she made no witty remark or tease. Her eyes had only softened with understanding, shifting back and forth as my words were mulled over in her brain. And it was only from her foreign silence that I realised what her next question could be: why don’t you just tell him?

I began, “I don’t want to ruin—"

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she finally interrupted, shaking her head as if to dismiss my unspoken sentiment. “The age-old ‘I don’t want to ruin what we have right now’. But what exactly is that?” Her eyes once again interrogated mine. “Because I’ll make it clear to you right now and say that what you two have is not just friendship. Come on. You and Bellamy?” She shifted her head to catch my drifting gaze. “Anyone with eyes can see something is there, but clearly, neither of you have a pair.”

Talk about tough love.

A harsh outflow of air exited my nose, and I pushed my hair back out of my face. Everything was much more complicated than I thought it was. Was I really as blind as Raven said? I would have already seen what she does if it were true, right? Did Bellamy really feel the same?

Am I drunk?

I glanced behind me once more, catching a glimpse of Bellamy tilting his head back to finish his drink, exposing the sculptured column of his neck. Heat flushed through my cheeks.

Christ. I couldn’t let this one go. There wasn’t a chance.

“What am I supposed to do?” I asked, still watching him.

An uproar of hoots and howls exploded throughout the square as the sound of drums and horns began to play, bringing my attention to the second-floor balcony of the Commander’s Tower where the noise floated down from. Drums pulsed with bawdy rhythm; horns bellowed with lewd backbone; a woman purred tribal vocalisations.

Bodies began swaying in disharmonious synchronisation around the bonfire, in pairs, in groups, individually. What tethered them was the raunchiness of their movements and the subtle carnality of their interactions with one another. I’d never seen anything like it; as I looked over at Raven and saw her similar intrigue, I knew she hadn’t either.

That was my mistake—to even acknowledge her in such a moment, especially after speaking about our previous topic. Her lips began stretching and stretching into a particularly wicked grin, and she turned to me. The devil was burning in her dark eyes.

Her answer to my question: “Give his eyes something to look at.”

part two

#bellamy blake #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake smut #bellamy blake fluff #bellamy blake imagine #bellamy blake fanfiction #the 100 #bob morley #bob morley smut #bellarke #bellamy blake x clarke griffin #wife of all dilfs ✍️#bellamyblake #raven reyes #bellarke fanfiction #bellamy blake x you

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daryldixonswoman · 5 months ago

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MDNI

Warnings: Smut

Era: Alexandria, established relationship

Taking a moment to close your eyes (which was a miracle in it's self) you take in the noises and smells surrounding you. The sounds of birds chirping and the odd buzzing bee with faint sounds of chatter and children laughing in the background. You could smell the flowers you had planted earlier that season, the faint smell of a bbq the quiet town had been preparing that day. You smile to yourself, being able to close your eyes and take it all in really was priceless. You stand from your kneeling position, wiping the dirt from your knees careful not to spoil the little white sundress Daryl had brought back some time ago on one of his runs. You walk back through your back door, into the kitchen of the small home you shared with Daryl. It was humble and cozy, perfect for you both. You decided to make some Ice Tea as Daryl would be back from helping repair one of the townfolks garden gates. Ever the carpenter, there was no end to his skills. The mere thought of him working with his hands, with that look of concentration on his face had you biting your bottom lip and squeezing your thighs together before you were brought back to reality and facing the ewer of Ice Tea you had made as you heard the door open and shut and the familiar sound of boots being shuffled off.

"Y/N? M'home" Daryl gruffed out with a slight breathlessness to his voice. He definitely doubled his pace to get back to you, to home.

"In here honey" you call out from the kitchen as you give the Ice Tea one last stir waiting to surprise your man.

Daryl made his way to the archway that joined the kitchen and living room together, he stood still in his tracks. Seeing your bright smile welcoming him. Seeing that pretty dress that barely covered your upper thighs. The one you wore just for him. He hummed a low growl as his demeanor changed. A look of possessiveness and hunger in his eyes as he stalked over to you.

"Made us some Ice Tea" you beamed proudly, knowing it wasn't anything spectacular but it was so rare these days.

Daryl hummed again, a low growl from the back of his throat as his fingers found there way to the frilly hem of the dress. Grazing ever so slightly on your thigh. So dangerously close to the place you needed him most. "Hmm..I see that doll" Daryl acknowledged unable to tear his eyes away from how the lace danced across your thighs. Like a pretty little present just for him.

"Ain't you thirsty?" you ask already knowing he was, the beads of sweat giving it away yet he never looked at the pitcher, never tore his eyes away from the hem of your dress.

Daryl nods chewing on his bottom lip "mhm, f'somethin' else" he hums with a soft gruff, the kind that made you weak at the knees as you felt his hand travel up further, his thumb tracing softly over the wet patch that had already appeared. He looks you in the eyes, silently asking for permission. You've never said no to him but he always wanted confirmation, he needed it. You bite your lip, holding back a moan slightly embarrassed he had this effect on you already. A small smirk grew on Daryl's face as he slipped his fingers into your underwear, his expert fingers finding the oh so sweet button that if pressed correctly made you sing like a bird. The prettiest noises Daryl ever did hear. Gliding his middle finger through your slick folds he used his pointer and ring finger to open up the folds, exposing that magic bundle of nerves. He stroked it slightly, gauging your reaction. You grew misty eyed, placing your hands on the counter behind you, you gave yourself to him completely.

"Tha's m'good girl" Daryl cooed into your ear, speaking so softly and sweetly as he slid his thick digit into you. Sinking into you until it reached his knuckle.

You squeeze your legs tight trapping his hand in place. You were so close already, feeling your juices run down your inner thighs you just needed a little more.

"Hmm I gotcha sweetheart" Daryl soothes into your ear as he slides another finger in. Feeling your sweet pussy start to contract around his fingers he thumbs at your sensitive clit. "Cum 'round my fingers Y/N" he growled getting aroused. Feeling how your fingers contracted and pulsed around his fingers had his dick stirring. He wanted to slide into you so badly, feel your pretty pussy clutch as he drove deeper into you.

You pant feeling a little unsteady on your feet as you return back to earth feeling Daryl grip your hips keeping you close to him. Lifting his fingers to his mouth, he sucks them dry. Thirsty for every drop of nectar you had for him. He lifts the hem of your dress up and over before pressing himself into you. You could feel his poor cock being strangled behind his jeans and Daryl's heavy panting in your ear "turn aroun' f'me" he pants almost impatiently as he turns you. Tracing his large had up along your bare spine he pushes you gently so your bent over onto the counter. The cold marble pressed against your hard nipples you waited, biting your bottom lip and adjusting yourself so you were on your tiptoes.

"Wore tha' pretty lil dress f'me? Hmm?" Daryl teased knowing the answer already pressing his clothed cock against your bare entrance.

"Mm..maybe" you tease back, knowing it was futile. Daryl could read you like a book. The way your body responded to his. He'd have to be deaf and blind not to notice. The sound of a belt being unbuckled was so familiar. You and Daryl had been together for years and had a pretty healthy sex life. Any chance you got you were looking at eachother hungrily. It was one of your favourite sounds, Daryl with one hand placed firmly on your lower back to keep you in place, the other undoing his buckle and button. Freeing his dripping cock just enough out of his boxers

"Gonna be a good girl an' lemme stretch ya over this counter?" He panted tracing his swollen head against your welcoming entrance

You managed a faint moan, a moan of agreement. His words alone had you soaking, greedy for his length. His girth. Your hands palms down on the marble you breath a sigh of relief as you felt his tip enter you slowly. Just the tip. Daryl could be such a tease at times. Daryl chucked gruffly at your response, feeling your needy cunt adjust to his tip. You were always so tight, always so perfect for him. Knowing you were gonna need some help to allow him fully in he gripped one of your thighs with his strong hand, bending your leg up as to allow him to sink all the way inside you. Into home. You both moan loudly in unison. Feeling that familiar feeling. Your pussy desperately fluttering around his delicious girth. Daryl places his hand firmer on your lower back. There was no way he was gonna be able to take you gentle. Not when you were always so desperate for him, so desperate to please him. He pulled almost all the way out just to slam back into you. Your body slides harshly against the marble counter as he fills you completely. His pace becoming fast and relentless. Claiming you like he has countless time before. Daryl growls lowly as he takes you hard against the kitchen counter in the kitchen you shared. It felt dirty, needy, desperate. You were his completely and he was yours. His grip on your thigh becomes harsher, feeling his thick fingers digging into your warm, plush flesh sure to leave bruises. His other hand gripping your hip, keeping you in place determined to send you to another dimension. Away from this cruel world. You both were never big believers in god but whenever you were alone together you were in pure bliss, you were almost certain heaven existed and it existed in Daryl. Daryl's moans becoming louder, sounding like a starved animal and your sweet pussy was just the welcome meal he needed. His growls sent shivers down your back, filled you with a hot need to be speared on his impressive cock. You managed strangled moans as your cunt desperately clutches around him, never wanting him to leave, leaving you empty. Daryl bends over you breathing heavily into your ear as he pins you against the counter fully with his pelvis "y'mine Y/N, always" Daryl growls possessively his thrusts becoming relentless. "Always..yours..D" you barely managed to reply between sinful moans. Daryl's cock twitches inside you, brushing against your cervix. He lived to be strangled by your sweet pussy, never wanting to leave. His mind went foggy and his instinct took over. Biting down on your neck he cums hard inside you. Thick ropes of cum shooting deep into your contracting pussy, milking everything he had for you. All his love, all his frustration, all of him. You'd take it gladly. Calming down from your climaxes Daryl sucks a hickey into your neck before gently placing your leg back down and holding you around the waist as he brings your back flush against his chest. You both stay like that for a moment. You secretly thankful as if he let go you fear you may buckle to the floor but Daryl never let you go, he never would.

"Fuck Y/N, gonna be the death o' me" Daryl pants into your ear slowly turning you around to face him

You bite your lip, cheeks flushed, eyes tear stained, completely fucked and satisfied. "I..uh made Ice Tea" was all you could manage before giggling softly as Daryl helped you back into your dress

"Wha' did I do ta deserve a girl like you huh?" Daryl smiles almost shyly tracing his fingers along your flushed cheeks

"I'm your good karma..and you're mine" you reply brightly. You couldn't predict the future but in this moment everything was perfect and that was enough

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #norman reedus #daryl x reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl smut

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perrywrites · 1 year ago

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Hiii, your absentminded murmuring and handholding writings were so good!!! The handholding scenarios were so sexy and intimate, and the murmuring ones made me laugh but we're also really hot at the same time. Would you consider extending the absentminded murmuring one to other characters? I'd love to see how you would write that scenario with Reo, Chigiri, and Kaiser (if you don't write Kaiser, since I can't see anything for him yet, then I feel like Barou/Shidou would be particularly funny (and hot)).

AAAAAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH, I'm so giddy, I'm glad the intimacy came across well 🤭🤭🤭 and omg... the Shidou one is 100% gonna turn into a public indecency case ngl LMFAO 😭😭😭 like w that man girly u gotta be the rational and restrained one... if you say something like that all. bets. are. OFFFF!

Also all 3 ended up being really long so for the sake of character limit, I'll be posting Kaiser right after, how does tumblr work and how do I post longer writings??? 😭😭😭

Absentmindedly murmuring that you want him inside of you during practice part 2;

NSFW

Includes; Chigiri, Reo

Part 1 (Isagi, Hiori, Bachira) and part 3 (Kaiser, Barou) and part 4 (Nagi, Shidou, Kunigami) and part 5 (Sae, Rin, Karasu, Otoya, Yukimiya)

Where Chigiri is ‘silently’ possessive (no, because seriously, I can’t be the only one who can just smell the silent cat-like possessiveness and jealousy radiating off of Chigiri, right??), Reo is lovesick as always.

Chigiri: he can feel your eyes burning passionately into his back - he doesn’t even have to look at you to know, he has a feeling you want something… You want him. But still, he glances to catch your dazed stare, finding himself amused by how your fuzzy eyes hazily trail after his form, your pouty lips parted slightly like you’re in a trance. He’s going to have to teach you to be subtler, though, because even as he can feel his heart squeeze in his chest from how cute you are - it’s taking everything in him to be rational and not burn the eyes of every man there - because he doesn’t want anyone else to see you right now. Because that kind of adorably inviting expression on your face should only be seen by him. Not anyone else, just him. The moment it’s his break, he’s sauntering over to you, prideful for anyone else but casual for him, an eyebrow raised. Even as he’s standing infront of you, you continue to stare up at him all dreamily, so he crosses his arms, huffing exasperatedly at your dumb look. He hasn’t even touched you yet, isn’t it too soon to make such a dumbed out expression? “You’ve been staring at me all practice, and now that I’m standing infront of you, you’re just going to be silent, hm?” He tilts his head at you, eyes narrowed playfully. It’s when you say what you say, that his eyes widen instantly. And then his eyes narrow again, except this time it’s no longer playful. Oh, you dared to say that alright. You want him inside, huh? He shifts on his feet, agitated. You couldn’t wait until after practice to tell him that? He can tell you didn’t mean to entice and tempt him as you did, with how out of it you seem, but… Knowing that you’re so out of it in the first place because of how badly you want - no - need him does something to him. And all of a sudden he finds himself fantasizing about having you in a way that makes heat rush through his body, you being all adorably submissive and ready for him, obedient as you always are, all cute whines as you plead at him with your misty eyes to just give it to you already. But of course, he won’t, and this time he won’t be dragging it out for a kind of sadistic affection to see you pout and whine, or to elongate this time of intimacy as long as possible, feel you as closely as possible. Oh no, absolutely not. This time, he’ll punish you. He’ll make you wait, even as his cock is painful and aching, even as you cry out and beg for him, your walls fluttering around nothing, he’ll make you wait for daring to let yourself voice this and be so alluring somewhere another man could see you. And also because now he feels incredibly irritated that he can’t just have you right now, that he has to wait for practice to be over, dammit. For now, he reaches his hand out and roughly ruffles the top of your hair, a successful attempt to get you to snap out of your enamoured trance and get that dumbed out look off your face right now, dammit. And as you look up at him, all wide eyes and confusion, he says, “Go wait for me in the car.” Because no way in hell is he going to let you sit out here or anywhere else and let someone catch you making a face like that again. It doesn’t matter whether it’s him you’re entranced with - of course it’s him - he can’t stand the idea of another man looking at you making that kind of face when he’s the only one allowed to see you like that. Don't forget, after all, he's the one you belong to.

Reo: at first he doesn’t pay much mind to your gaze, after all he’s used to your frequent visits to his practice, and it’s not weird for you to admire your own boyfriend and cheer him on. But he starts paying mind when a teammate elbows him and chuckles discreetly, waggling a teasing eyebrow as he makes some remark about Reo’s ‘busy night’ ahead. He looks at the man for the audacity he just stupidly sprouted to be daring to make a remark about his - Reo’s - sex life; baffled and eyebrow raised, Reo throws a couple of dismissive cold words before turning away - and then he glances towards you and ah. No wonder. Well, that explains the tomfoolery that just transpired. Although Reo responded like that to his teammate’s crass comment (of course he did, who the fuck did he think he was to try and joke around with him of all people about his partner and his’ sex life? Even if they aren’t protective or possessive like him, any other half-decent of a boyfriend should be responding like him, he thinks), now he just feels excited to be the target of your lovelorn gaze. Oh, you love him that much, do you? Want him that much? A part of his brain goes mushy and fuzzy from affection, you’re just too cute, and all his. The moment it’s time for his break, he rushes over to you, impatiently, longingly, desperately - though he tries to seem like he’s normal as he smiles at you and accepts the water bottle from your loose, dangling grasp. Thanking you sweetly and in what he hopes is a casual manner, he downs his water quickly to speak to you about your persistent stare. He cups your cheek, leaning down towards you, eyes creased and pupils saturated with love. “You’ve been looking at me the whole time like that, something wrong sweetheart?” Voice an affectionate coo, he asks you, half-teasingly, expecting you to turn bashful and avert your eyes, to allow him to chase you around with teasing like always. Except you say something that makes something lodge inside of his throat instantly, smile frozen on his face from pure shock. Did you - did you just? Quietly, he asks you to repeat your words, and when you do, in a sugary melted voice, Reo is at a loss of words. You’re still looking at him all yearningly, dazed eyes thick with desire; he can tell how out of it you are. Oh, you really do want him that much right now… And wouldn’t he be a bad boyfriend if he didn’t give it to you right now when you’re all cute and desperate like this? Wouldn’t he be just the worst if he didn’t bend you over somewhere, anywhere, sometime soon, and stuffed you full of his cock? Oh, wouldn’t he be just a sick bastard undeserving of you if he didn’t trap you into a mating press and just kept jackhammering into that wet pussy just meant for him? Breed you full of his cum and love? Just keep on loving you until you cried big fat tears and begged him ‘no more Reo, ah I can’t, p-please, I’m too sensitive!’ like you always do? ‘What’s wrong sweetheart, weren’t you the one asking for it?’ He snaps out of his little daydream when his coach calls him back to practice, saying the break is over. Reo nods, but he doesn’t move, his feet stuck as he looks down at your delirious eyes. Practice be screwed, he needs to get you home now and get inside you goddammit.

Also this was the exact expression I imagined Reo making at the nameless teammate LMFAO

#blue lock #bllk #bllk x reader #bllk smut #chigiri #chigiri hyoma #chigiri x reader #bllk chigiri #blue lock chigiri #chigiri smut #reo x you #reo mikage #reo x reader #bllk reo #reo smut #blue lock smut

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mirisss · 4 months ago

Text

Monstrous Love

Werewolf! Choi Seungcheol x afab! human reader

Warnings: Obessession, possessiveness, some violence, biting, blood, Stockholm syndrome, mentioning suspicion of being r*ped (though not using that word), I think that’s it, let me know if I’ve missed anything.

Wordcount ≈ 7.8k

Halloween special, thank you to everyone who voted for the Halloween specials, first place was Scoups so here you have his fic! I hope you all enjoy this!

Please reblog!

Third Person POV

(Y/n) had always liked the woods, especially when the skies turned heavy with rain. Something about the quiet rustle of leaves, the distant call of birds, and the cool breeze always made her feel at peace. But today, the dark clouds above seemed more threatening than soothing. The air was thick with the promise of a storm, and the usually familiar path through the woods felt foreign, almost foreboding.

As she hurried along, clutching her cloak tighter around her, she noticed the wind picking up. The first droplets of rain splattered against her skin. She quickened her pace, her heart racing not just from the fear of the incoming storm but something else—a nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach, as though she were being watched.

Suddenly, a branch snapped behind her. She froze.

The rain came down harder, her surroundings quickly being swallowed by the downpour. She spun on her heels, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes scanned the misty forest.

Nothing.

Just the trees and the rain.

With a shaky exhale, she turned to continue her path back to town, but in her haste, she collided into something solid. She stumbled back, her breath hitching as she looked up.

There he was.

The man from the woods.

His towering figure loomed over her, water dripping from his tousled dark hair. His eyes—those notorious red eyes that had haunted the stories whispered around town—pierced through her, sending a chill down her spine. He didn’t speak, and yet his presence screamed of danger, of something ancient and wild.

Scoups.

The name everyone feared. The man—the creature—who lived in the woods, shrouded in mystery. Most people avoided these parts in the hopes of never crossing paths with him, but now, here he was, mere inches from (Y/n).

Her legs felt like they might give way beneath her as she stared up at him. Fear clawed at her throat, yet she couldn’t look away. His features were sharp, rugged—beautiful, in a terrifying way. And though his face was cold, there was something else in his expression. Something she couldn’t quite place.

And then, before she could gather her wits to run or speak, he moved closer, his hand reaching toward her face, his fingers just barely brushing her cheek. The touch was surprisingly gentle, but his eyes remained fixed on hers, burning with an intensity that made her shiver.

“I’ve found you,” he whispered, his voice low and rough, as if it had been trapped inside him for far too long.

Her heart pounded in her chest.

“What do you mean?” (Y/n) stammered, her voice barely a whisper as the rain fell harder around them.

His lips curled into the faintest of smiles, though it held no warmth. “You’re mine.”

(Y/n)’s breath caught. “I-I don’t understand,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the storm.

“I’ve waited so long,” Scoups said, his voice almost a growl now, but his eyes softened just a little. “And now that I’ve found you… I’m never letting you go.”

(Y/n)’s heart raced in her chest, pounding so loudly she could barely hear the rain or the wind anymore. Fear surged through her veins as Scoups’ words echoed in her mind: “You’re mine.”

She couldn’t think—couldn’t breathe. Her instincts screamed at her to run, to get away from him, this creature who wasn’t fully human, whose presence made the hair on her arms stand on end. Stories of his monstrous nature, of his cruelty, flashed through her mind. Every ounce of her wanted to scream, but the terror strangled her voice.

Without another thought, (Y/n) turned on her heel and bolted. She didn’t know where she was running to—only that she needed to get as far from him as possible.

Her feet pounded against the muddy forest floor, the rain lashing against her face, blurring her vision. The wind whipped at her cloak as she pushed through the dense trees. She didn’t dare look back, but she could feel him. Every step she took, it felt as though he was there, just behind her, his presence as heavy as the storm clouds above.

How was he always so close?

Her chest burned from exertion, her legs growing weak with each step. Yet, no matter how fast she ran or which direction she turned, it was as though the woods were conspiring against her. Every path seemed to lead her back toward him, his red eyes glowing faintly in the darkness.

Panic seized her heart. She was trapped.

She stumbled, her foot catching on an exposed root, and she went crashing to the ground. Her palms stung as they scraped against the wet earth, but she scrambled to her feet. Her body screamed for rest, but her mind knew she couldn’t stop. Not here. Not now. She had to keep running, but the world was spinning, her vision blurring as the storm worsened.

And then, as if the rain itself had swallowed her will to keep fighting, she felt her body give out. Her legs buckled beneath her, and everything went black.

~ Time Skip ~

Scoups stood by the window, his eyes locked on the unconscious figure sprawled on his bed. The rain still poured outside, drumming against the roof in a steady, relentless rhythm. But his mind was focused entirely on her—on the delicate girl who had collapsed in his arms, drenched and trembling.

(Y/n).

She looked fragile lying there, her face pale from exhaustion, her chest rising and falling in slow, shallow breaths. His sharp eyes traced the scratches and bruises marring her skin—marks she had earned trying to escape him. The guilt stirred in him, but it was nothing compared to the primal need coursing through his veins.

His mate. After years of searching, after endless nights of running through the woods, driven by the emptiness in his chest, he had finally found her.

She was beautiful, even now—especially now. The way the firelight danced across her face made his breath catch. Her wet hair clung to her skin, and her clothes, still damp from the storm, stuck to her body in a way that made it impossible for him to look away.

His instincts roared within him. The wolf inside him stirred, restless, urging him to claim what was his, to mark her and make sure no one could ever take her from him. The need to protect her, to possess her, surged with every breath. Her scent—a soft, intoxicating sweetness that seemed to wrap around his very soul—drove him mad.

His claws flexed at his sides as he fought against the surge of desire that threatened to consume him. His entire body ached for her, pulsed with a hunger he hadn’t felt in years. He wanted to pull her into his arms, bury his face in her neck, and let the world fade away. He wanted to feel her skin against his, to know that she was his, that she would never leave him.

But he couldn’t.

Not like this.

Scoups’ jaw tightened as he forced himself to take a step back from the bed, putting distance between them. He clenched his fists, trying to ground himself, trying to remember who he was—what he was. She didn’t know yet. She didn’t understand the bond, the connection that had been forged the moment they met.

She didn’t know how deeply tied to him she already was.

His eyes flickered to her scars, fresh and raw from her fall in the woods. He hadn’t meant to frighten her so badly, but the way she had looked at him—like he was some kind of monster—it had triggered something primal in him. His wolf had wanted to chase, to show her that no matter how fast she ran, he would always find her.

But seeing her now, so fragile and vulnerable, he felt a pang of guilt. She didn’t deserve this. He was a predator, a beast, and she… she was so delicate, like a flower he was afraid to crush with just a touch.

Still, even with the guilt gnawing at the edges of his conscience, he couldn’t deny the overwhelming pull he felt toward her. She was his mate. He had waited so long for this—for her. And now that she was here, the thought of letting her go, of letting anyone or anything take her from him, was unbearable.

I could lose control, he thought darkly, his eyes narrowing as he watched her. The wolf inside him was howling for release, clawing at his restraint. He could feel his pulse quicken, the veins in his neck tightening as he struggled to maintain his composure. Each second he inhaled her scent, his grip on his humanity slipped further.

She stirred slightly, her head moving against the pillow, and his heart raced. He took a sharp breath, watching her with rapt attention. Even unconscious, she had a power over him that no one else ever had. The firelight reflected off the delicate curve of her jaw, the soft rise and fall of her chest—she was beautiful, maddeningly so.

His hand twitched, aching to reach out, to trace his fingers over her skin, to claim what was his by right. But he held back, forcing himself to turn away, to focus on the storm outside instead of the storm brewing inside him.

He couldn’t lose control. Not yet.

She would wake soon, and when she did, she would be terrified again. He knew she didn’t understand the bond, didn’t feel the same pull he did—not yet, at least. She was human. Fragile. He needed to be patient, to give her time to come to terms with what they were.

But each second, each minute that passed with her lying there, vulnerable and unaware, made it harder and harder to hold back the beast within him.

She’s mine, he reminded himself, the thought both a comfort and a curse. He would protect her, care for her, but he couldn’t deny that his desire ran deeper than simple protection.

His wolf wanted more.

It wanted her—body, soul, everything.

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, trying to silence the growl building in his throat. He would wait. He would hold back. For her sake. For now.

But the moment she looked into his eyes again, the moment she finally understood that she belonged to him, there would be no holding back.

And no force on earth would keep him from claiming what was his.

When (Y/n) woke, the first thing she noticed was warmth.

Not the suffocating heat of the storm, but a gentle, comforting warmth, like being wrapped in a blanket near a fire. She stirred slightly, feeling something soft beneath her. She blinked, her vision hazy, as the memories of the rain, the chase, and—him—came rushing back.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she was greeted by the sight of a dimly lit room. The air smelled faintly of pine, woodsmoke, and something earthy. She was lying on a large, well-worn bed, covered in thick furs. The room around her was rustic—wooden walls lined with books and various trinkets that looked handmade. A fire crackled softly in a hearth across the room, casting a flickering glow on the walls.

Her pulse quickened as she tried to sit up, but her body felt heavy, exhausted from her ordeal. As she shifted, she realized she wasn’t alone.

He was there.

Seungcheol—Scoups—stood near the window, his back to her as he stared out into the dark woods beyond. His broad shoulders were tense, as though he was deep in thought, yet his aura filled the entire room with an intensity that made her feel small.

For a moment, she wondered if she should pretend to still be unconscious. But before she could even consider it, he turned, his piercing red eyes locking onto hers.

“You’re awake,” he said, his voice low, a strange mix of relief and something darker.

(Y/n) recoiled slightly, her heart pounding once more. “Where… where am I?” she managed to ask, her voice small and shaky.

“My home,” he replied simply, moving closer with a fluid grace that reminded her all too much of a predator. “You collapsed in the woods. I brought you here.”

She shifted uncomfortably beneath his gaze. “Why?” she whispered, still half-expecting him to lunge at her, to take whatever it was he wanted.

Scoups’ eyes softened, though only just. “Because,” he said slowly, as though weighing each word, “you’re my mate.”

The word sent a shiver down her spine. She had heard of such things in stories—creatures who bound themselves to another, a connection deeper than human understanding. But she never imagined it would happen to her, let alone with someone like him.

“I’m not… I’m not your mate,” (Y/n) stammered, pushing herself back against the headboard, her hands trembling. “I don’t even know you.”

A shadow passed over Scoups’ face, his expression hardening. “You will,” he said, his voice firm but not unkind. “Whether you realize it yet or not, you’re mine. You belong to me.”

(Y/n) shook her head, fear rising again. “I don’t belong to anyone.”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he stepped back, giving her space, though his eyes never left hers. “Rest,” he said. “You’re safe here. No one will harm you while you’re under my protection.”

But the way he said it made her realize one terrifying truth: the greatest danger in these woods might just be him.

(Y/n) stirred as the cold seeped into her bones, a shiver running down her spine despite the warmth of the fire nearby. Her clothes clung to her damp skin, her hair still wet from the storm. She curled into herself, trying to get warm, but it was no use. The icy chill seemed to creep deeper with every second. Her mind was groggy, her body exhausted, but slowly, the sounds around her became clearer—the crackle of the fire, the low howl of the storm outside.

Her pulse quickened as she tried to assess her situation. She was still in her clothes, which brought a strange sense of relief. He hadn’t… She swallowed, trying to calm her racing thoughts. Despite the fear gnawing at her, it didn’t seem like he had done anything to harm her while she was unconscious.

But the cold was unbearable, and her soaked clothes made it worse. She shivered again, her teeth nearly chattering as she pulled the blankets tighter around her.

That’s when she heard him.

Scoups moved before she could even register it, his form a blur of shadow in the corner of the room. His eyes, sharp and glowing red in the dim light, were immediately on her, taking in her discomfort. For a moment, she held her breath, too terrified to speak or move.

Without a word, he turned and left the room. The door closed softly behind him, leaving her in an eerie silence.

(Y/n) let out a shaky breath, her body trembling not only from the cold but from the tension that hung in the air. The sound of the storm outside only seemed to amplify her unease, but before she could try to gather her thoughts, the door creaked open again. Scoups returned, holding a bundle of clothes in his hands. His movements were fluid, almost too graceful, like a predator stalking its prey.

He crossed the room with a measured, deliberate pace, stopping in front of her. His face was unreadable, that same icy stare locked on her, but there was something softer about his demeanor now—something almost… concerned? She couldn’t tell, but the intensity of his presence still made her heart race.

“Get up,” he said, his voice deep and commanding.

(Y/n) froze, her fingers clenching the blankets around her as she met his gaze. She hesitated, unsure of what he wanted, unsure if she should trust him. The fear of what he could do—what he was—kept her rooted in place.

But there was no defying him. Not with those eyes, not with the raw power that radiated from him.

Still, her body screamed at her to move. To do as he said. Her fear was overwhelming, and in the silence that followed, she knew that resisting would be futile.

Slowly, she pushed herself up from the bed, her legs trembling as she stood. She could feel his gaze on her, watching her every movement, and it made her skin crawl with unease. The distance between them felt like a fragile thread, one that could snap at any moment.

He handed her the clothes—a set of soft, dry garments, likely his own, judging by their size. She stared at them, confused for a moment, unsure of why he was giving them to her.

“Your clothes are wet,” Scoups said simply, his voice still firm but lacking the harshness she had expected. “Take a shower. Change into these.”

She blinked, looking from the clothes to him, her mind racing. She didn’t want to make a mistake, didn’t want to provoke him, but this… was unexpected. It felt oddly kind, though his cold demeanor made it hard to decipher his true intentions.

Still, she nodded, too afraid to refuse. Without another word, he turned and led her down a narrow hallway. The walls were lined with rustic wood, and she noticed how quiet the house was despite the storm raging outside. He stopped in front of a door and pushed it open, revealing a small but cozy bathroom. Steam already lingered in the air, as though he had prepared it for her.

“Go,” he said, his tone flat, though his gaze lingered on her for just a moment longer than she was comfortable with. “Take your time.”

(Y/n) hesitated at the threshold of the bathroom, feeling the warmth of the room on her skin. She glanced up at him, her heart thudding in her chest. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—something she couldn’t quite place. A strange softness hidden beneath the cold exterior.

She stepped inside, clutching the clothes close to her chest, and shut the door behind her, leaning against it for a moment. Her breath came out in shaky gasps as she tried to calm her nerves. The warm air from the shower beckoned her, and she could feel the tension begin to melt away as the thought of warmth enveloped her.

Turning toward the shower, she carefully peeled off her soaked clothes, shivering as the cold air hit her skin. She stepped under the hot spray, feeling the water wash over her, the warmth sinking deep into her bones. The tension in her muscles began to ease, though her mind was still racing, still haunted by the reality of where she was—and who was just outside.

But as the water cascaded over her, she allowed herself a moment to breathe. Just a moment to process everything.

Who was this man—this monster—that terrified her, yet showed her a kind of care she never expected? And why did his touch, his presence, evoke such confusing feelings in her?

I don’t belong here… she thought, but even as she said it, she couldn’t shake the strange pull that lingered in the air between them.

She knew she had to be careful. She couldn’t let herself be swayed by his momentary kindness. He was still dangerous, still the creature from the stories. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized… there was something else about him, something deeper.

Something that scared her more than the monster he was.

Scoups paced by the fire, his hands flexing and curling into fists as he waited for her to emerge. His mind raced, battling the primal instincts that surged within him. The wolf inside him had been restless for hours, growling and pacing within the confines of his mind, and the sound of the shower running only made it worse. The knowledge that she was just beyond the door—his mate, naked and vulnerable, surrounded by his scent—was driving him mad.

He closed his eyes, trying to focus on something else, anything else, but the pull was relentless. His beast stirred, clawing at his control, demanding more than just her presence. It wanted her body, her blood, her soul. It wanted to claim her in every possible way. But Scoups was stronger than that—he had to be.

When the sound of the water finally stopped, he held his breath, listening as she moved about in the bathroom. The seconds felt like hours, and his heart thudded in his chest as he waited. When the door creaked open and she stepped out, he turned to face her, his breath catching in his throat.

She was wearing his clothes.

The oversized shirt hung loosely on her small frame, the sleeves falling past her wrists, and the trousers bunched at her ankles. Yet despite how large the clothes were on her, she looked… perfect. His scent clung to her now, and that alone was enough to make his blood boil with possessiveness. The sight of her, wrapped in his scent, in his clothes, awakened something deep within him.

Mine.

His inner beast roared in approval, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough until his mark was permanently branded on her shoulder, until her skin bore the evidence of their bond. His wolf wanted to taste her blood, to feel her body beneath his, writhing in submission. The hunger burned deep, almost unbearable, and for a moment, he wondered if he could hold himself back much longer.

But he had to.

He had spent so long without her—waiting, searching—that he couldn’t risk scaring her away. Not when she was so close, not when she was finally within his grasp.

He clenched his jaw, trying to wrestle his emotions into submission, but the moment their eyes met, he knew it was a losing battle. She looked so small, so fragile in his clothes, her wet hair falling in soft strands around her face. Her lips were slightly parted, her eyes wide and uncertain as she stared back at him. She was scared—he could see it in the way she trembled slightly, in the way her hands clutched the fabric of the shirt.

But she didn’t run.

And that was all the permission he needed.

Before he could think, before he could stop himself, he crossed the room in a few swift strides, his heart pounding in his chest. She took a small step back, her breath catching, but she didn’t move away fully. His hand reached out instinctively, his fingers brushing against her cheek, tracing the soft curve of her skin. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t pull away, even as his thumb stroked gently across her skin.

Her warmth—her softness—sent a shiver down his spine.

“Scoups…” she whispered, her voice barely audible, filled with fear, confusion, and something else—something she likely didn’t understand yet.

He leaned in, his eyes never leaving hers as he closed the distance between them. His beast stirred, impatient, demanding more, but he forced it back, knowing he couldn’t rush this. Not yet. Instead, he focused on her, on the way her breath quickened, the way her body tensed and relaxed under his touch.

His lips found hers in a slow, deliberate kiss.

The moment their lips met, the world seemed to shift around him. The kiss was gentle, almost hesitant, but the intensity of it overwhelmed him. Her lips were soft, warm, and he could feel her tremble beneath his touch. But it wasn’t fear this time—at least, not entirely. He could feel the way her body responded, the subtle tension in her muscles, the way her breath hitched as the kiss deepened, though he kept it restrained.

It was everything he had imagined, everything he had craved for so long, but at the same time, it was far more than that. It wasn’t just about satisfying the beast inside him—it was something more primal, something more intimate. His hand moved from her cheek to the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in her damp hair as he pulled her closer.

Her scent filled his senses, and he could taste the lingering sweetness of her skin. It was intoxicating, making it harder and harder to hold back. His wolf growled in approval, wanting to take more, wanting to mark her, to make her his in every way possible. But he couldn’t—he wouldn’t. Not yet.

He pulled back, though every fiber of his being screamed at him to continue. His eyes searched hers, seeing the way she was still reeling from the kiss. Her lips were slightly swollen, her cheeks flushed, and the way she looked at him made something inside him tighten. She had never experienced anything like this before—he could tell from the way she seemed overwhelmed, unsure of how to process the emotions coursing through her.

(Y/n) stared up at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she struggled to catch her breath. She looked confused, frightened, but there was also something else in her eyes—a spark of something that mirrored his own desire, though she likely didn’t understand it.

Scoups’ thumb grazed her lower lip, and he couldn’t resist leaning in again, his voice low and rough as he spoke. “You’re mine,” he whispered, his breath hot against her skin. “Whether you realize it or not, you belong to me.”

She shivered at his words, her eyes wide, but he could see the conflict in them—the way she was torn between fear and something deeper. Something that made her hesitate, that made her stay in his arms instead of running away.

For now, it was enough.

But the beast inside him growled, unsatisfied. The kiss had only stoked the fire within him, and it wouldn’t be truly sated until he had her, fully and completely. Until his mark was on her skin and until she bore the symbol of their bond.

But he would wait.

For her sake, he would wait. Or at least, he would try to.

Scoups exhaled sharply as he finally forced himself to pull away from her. His breath was ragged, his heart pounding, and the beast inside him was still roaring, furious that he had denied it once again. His eyes glowed brighter than ever, their usual icy red hue flaring with intensity. It took every ounce of his willpower to step back, to regain some semblance of control over the monster that clawed within him.

But when he looked down at her, he froze.

(Y/n) stood there, her eyes wide, lips still parted from their kiss, her body trembling as if it couldn’t comprehend what had just happened. She was in a trance—bewildered, overwhelmed by the force of it all. He could see it in the way her chest heaved, the way her skin flushed, and for a moment, he wondered if he had gone too far. Had he pushed her beyond what she could handle?

Her gaze lifted to meet his, and as their eyes locked, Scoups felt a pull so strong it nearly dragged him under again. His beast growled possessively, wanting more, urging him to take her fully, to claim her now and forever. But something stopped him—the way she stared at him, fragile, vulnerable, as though she were seeing him for the first time.

And then, without warning, her legs gave out beneath her.

Scoups moved instantly, catching her before she could hit the ground. She collapsed into his arms, her body limp as if the weight of everything had become too much. His eyes widened in alarm, his previous resolve cracking as concern flooded his senses.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice no longer cold, no longer distant. His heart clenched painfully as he held her close, his glowing eyes fading back into their natural deep brown, softening with worry. He knelt beside her, one hand supporting her back while the other brushed her hair from her face. The sight of her, fragile and overwhelmed, pierced through his hardened exterior in a way nothing else ever had.

For the first time in longer than he could remember, he felt… human.

Her breathing was shallow, her lips slightly parted, but she didn’t seem to be in pain—just overwhelmed. The way she had collapsed, her body giving in after everything that had happened between them, sent a surge of guilt through him. He had scared her. He had pushed too hard, too fast, and now she was paying the price for it.

“Are you hurt?” he asked again, his voice deep but gentle, unlike the icy tone he usually carried. He could hear the worry in his own words, feel the unfamiliar sensation of it tightening in his chest. He wasn’t used to feeling this way, wasn’t used to caring about anyone—but she was different. She was his mate.

And he had almost forgotten that she was human.

His hand lingered on her cheek, stroking it softly as her eyes fluttered closed. For a moment, he just held her there, his mind racing as he tried to figure out what to do. He had never been in a situation like this before—his beast had never allowed anyone close enough for it to matter. But now, with her in his arms, all the ferocity inside him softened into something protective, something far more terrifying than his usual coldness.

He could hurt her so easily, with just one wrong move. His beast could break her without a second thought, and yet here she was, collapsing from the mere intensity of their connection.

She’s too delicate… too fragile for this world.

His fingers brushed along her neck, feeling the soft pulse beneath her skin. She was still conscious, but barely, and the thought of her vulnerability sent a strange kind of fear coursing through him. It wasn’t like the fear he instilled in others—it was something else entirely. It was fear of losing her. Fear of breaking her.

Scoups’ jaw clenched as he struggled to contain the warring emotions inside him. He wanted to claim her, to take her in every sense of the word, but he knew he had to wait. He had to be careful with her. She wasn’t like him—she wasn’t a monster, she wasn’t built for the dark, primal world he lived in.

But she was his.

“Talk to me,” he whispered, his thumb grazing her lower lip as he searched her face for any sign of consciousness. “Tell me what you’re feeling. I need to know if I’ve hurt you.”

Her eyes slowly opened, though they were still heavy with exhaustion and confusion. She blinked up at him, as though trying to make sense of what had just happened. Her breath hitched when she saw the change in his expression—the softness in his features, the warmth in his eyes. He wasn’t the terrifying creature she had feared. Not in this moment.

“I-I’m not hurt…” she mumbled weakly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Just… overwhelmed.”

Scoups let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, relief washing over him like a wave. He shifted slightly, pulling her more securely into his arms, cradling her against his chest. Her head rested against him, and for the first time, he didn’t feel like a monster. He felt like something more—something better—because she was there, trusting him despite everything.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice low and filled with a rare sincerity. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just…”

He trailed off, unsure of how to explain the storm of emotions raging inside him. How could he tell her that he had been waiting for her all his life? That the moment he had laid eyes on her, his entire world had shifted? That his beast, the creature he had lived with for so long, was clawing at him to claim her, to mark her, to make her his forever?

But he couldn’t say any of that. Not yet.

Instead, he gently lifted her in his arms and stood, carrying her back toward the bed. She didn’t resist, too weak and dazed to do anything but rest her head against his chest. He laid her down carefully, pulling the blankets over her before sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her closely.

“I’ll give you space,” he murmured, his voice hoarse as he stood up and backed away, his eyes never leaving hers. “But just know… you’re safe here. With me.”

He turned to leave, his heart heavy, but before he could take more than a step, her voice, small and uncertain, stopped him.

“Why?” she asked, her eyes fluttering open again. “Why are you doing this?”

Scoups froze, his back to her, his mind racing as he tried to come up with an answer. He didn’t know how to explain it—not in a way that wouldn’t scare her more. But he owed her the truth, even if it was a truth she wasn’t ready to hear.

“Because you’re mine,” he said, his voice low, filled with a possessiveness that he couldn’t fully mask. “And I don’t let go of what’s mine.”

“What if I don’t want to be yours?”

The words hit him like a thunderclap, reverberating in his mind with a force so intense, he almost couldn’t process them.

What if I don’t want to be yours?

Her voice, soft and hesitant, carried a weight that shattered whatever fragile control he had left. Scoups froze, his back still turned to her, his mind spinning. For a split second, he thought he must have misheard, that her exhaustion had made her say something she didn’t mean.

But no. She had said it.

And the instant those words sank in, something inside him snapped.

His muscles tensed, his heartbeat quickened, and the beast he had been fighting back for so long surged forward with a ferocity he hadn’t felt in years. He didn’t want to be this way—he had tried to be gentle, to hold back, to give her time—but the thought of her rejecting him after the kiss they had just shared, after the connection they had just felt… it drove him mad.

The room suddenly felt too small, too suffocating, as his beast clawed its way to the surface, breaking through the control he had so desperately tried to maintain. His eyes glowed a furious red, brighter than ever before, and his fangs grew, sharp and menacing, protruding past his lips.

“You don’t want to be mine?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. The sound of it sent a shiver through the air, thick with a primal, animalistic rage. “You think you have a choice?”

The question wasn’t a real one. There was no choice. She had been his from the moment their paths had crossed, from the moment he had first laid eyes on her. His beast would never let her go, not now, not ever.

Scoups turned slowly, his predatory gaze locked onto her, the red glow of his eyes flickering like embers in the dark. He took a step toward her, then another, his movements slow, deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. His muscles rippled beneath his skin, taut with tension, and his breaths came in ragged bursts as his wolf fully surfaced, taking control.

(Y/n)’s eyes widened in terror. She scrambled backward, her legs trembling as she tried to get away from him, her body reacting instinctively to the danger she sensed in him now. But she was no match for him, not in this state. The fear in her eyes only fueled his desire, only made the wolf within him more desperate to claim her, to show her that there was no escape.

She turned, bolting toward the door in a panic, but he was faster—so much faster.

In a flash, he was in front of her, blocking her path. His movements were a blur of speed and power, and before she could even register what was happening, she found herself pressed against the wall, trapped. Her breath came in frantic gasps, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried, futilely, to push him away.

“Running?” he snarled, his voice deeper, more primal now. His glowing eyes bore into hers, filled with a possessiveness that bordered on madness. “You think you can run from me? From this?”

Her body trembled under the weight of his presence, and though she struggled against him, her efforts were useless. His hand gripped her wrist, holding her in place, while his other hand pressed against the wall beside her, trapping her completely. His chest rose and fell with labored breaths, the tension between them crackling like the storm outside.

The scent of her fear filled the air, mixing with the rain-drenched scent of her skin, and it only drove him further into a frenzy. His fangs ached, his body yearned to claim her, and the wolf within him growled impatiently, demanding what was rightfully his.

“You’re mine,” he hissed, his voice barely above a whisper, but the intensity in it was unmistakable. His face was inches from hers now, his breath hot against her skin. “Whether you want it or not.”

Before she could utter another word, his fangs sank into the soft flesh of her neck.

The moment his teeth broke the surface of her skin, a surge of raw power coursed through him. Her blood—sweet, intoxicating—flooded his senses, and his grip on her tightened as he bit down harder, marking her as his. She gasped in pain, her body stiffening in his arms, but there was nothing she could do. She was his now.

Forever.

His bite was deep, primal, the mark of a mate claimed by a wolf. It wasn’t just physical—it was a bond that would tie them together for eternity, something far beyond anything she could understand. His beast reveled in it, finally sated by the act of claiming what was his. The taste of her blood on his tongue, the feel of her body trembling against him—it was everything he had needed, everything he had been denied for so long.

But as the heat of the moment began to subside, Scoups realized something was wrong.

Her body had gone limp in his arms, her head slumping against his chest as her consciousness began to fade. He had pushed too hard, too fast, and now she was slipping away. Panic surged through him as he pulled back, his glowing red eyes widening in alarm. Her skin was pale, her breath shallow, and the sight of her in this state—so fragile, so vulnerable—sent a wave of guilt crashing over him.

He had hurt her.

“Y/n…” His voice trembled, the harshness from moments ago gone, replaced by something far more desperate. He cradled her in his arms, his fangs retracting, his eyes dimming back to their natural brown as the beast retreated. He had claimed her, marked her as his, but in doing so, he had nearly destroyed her.

The guilt was overwhelming.

“Y/n…” he whispered again, his voice breaking as he gently brushed the hair from her face. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.”

Her eyes fluttered closed, her body limp and unresponsive in his arms. He could hear her heartbeat—faint, but steady—and it was the only thing that kept him from completely losing control again.

He carried her to the bed, laying her down gently, his hands trembling as he watched her sleep. She would heal—his mark would see to that—but the damage he had done was undeniable. She had feared him, and rightfully so.

But now, there was no going back.

She was his, bound to him by blood and soul, and nothing in this world could break that bond.

Not even her fear.

~ Time Skip ~

Years had passed, though (Y/n) had long since stopped counting the days. The life she had known before—her small town, her friends, the warm sunlight on her face as she wandered the familiar streets—had become nothing more than distant memories. Memories that felt like a different lifetime, like a dream she could no longer reach.

Now, her world was confined to the dark woods and the cabin that had become her prison.

She hadn’t seen the town in what felt like an eternity. She had never returned. After that night—after Scoups had claimed her as his mate—there had been no escape. No chance to run, no opportunity to return to the life she once knew. Not that it mattered anymore. Even if she had tried, the bond that tied her to him would have pulled her back. It wasn’t just physical—it was something deeper, something impossible to break.

Something that made her love him, despite everything.

(Y/n) sat by the window of the cabin, staring out at the rain-soaked woods as they blurred in her vision. The storm outside mirrored the constant turmoil in her heart. The cabin was quiet, save for the occasional crackling of the fire, but the silence weighed heavily on her. It had been like this for years now—a strange, suffocating stillness that seemed to wrap itself around her, as if even the forest knew she was trapped.

She should have hated him.

She had tried, at first. She had tried to cling to the anger, to the fear, to remind herself of what he had taken from her. But the bond between them—the bond that had been forged the moment his fangs pierced her skin—had twisted everything inside her. It had made it impossible to feel anything but a strange, overwhelming love for him, even when she didn’t want to.

Her heart had betrayed her.

He loved her, that much was undeniable. In his own possessive, obsessive way, he adored her. He had taken care of her, never allowing her to go hungry, never letting her feel unsafe, even though it was him she feared most. His affection for her was fierce, consuming, and the more time passed, the more she felt it suffocating her. He would hold her, whisper promises in her ear about how they were meant to be, how the moon had bound them together.

How she was his forever.

And despite every rational part of her mind screaming against it, she had grown to love him back. Not by choice, not willingly, but because the bond left her no other option. It was as if the universe itself had decided their fate, and she was powerless to resist.

(Y/n) reached up, absentmindedly tracing the mark on her neck—the mark that had sealed her fate. It had healed long ago, but the scar still remained, a reminder of the night her life had changed. Her fingers brushed against the raised skin, and she shivered, the memory of that night flooding back. She hadn’t been the same since.

The bond had changed her in more ways than one. She could feel it, even now, in the way her body responded to him, in the way her heart quickened whenever he was near. It was unnatural, twisted, but it was real.

And that was the cruelest part of it all.

She heard the familiar sound of the door creaking open behind her, followed by the heavy footsteps she had come to recognize instantly. Scoups was back. She didn’t need to turn around to know it was him—his presence was something she felt even before he entered the room. He was like the storm outside—an unstoppable force, powerful and commanding.

“Y/n.” His voice, deep and filled with a possessive tenderness, broke through the silence. “I’m home.”

She didn’t respond immediately, her eyes still fixed on the rain outside. She knew he would come to her, as he always did. He never could stay away from her for long, not with the bond pulling them together. Sure enough, a moment later, she felt his arms wrap around her from behind, pulling her against his chest. His warmth enveloped her, and despite herself, she leaned into him.

“I missed you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her hair as he held her close. “Why do you always sit by the window when I’m gone?”

“I just like watching the rain,” she replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper. She had learned long ago that resistance was futile. No matter how much she tried to keep him at a distance, the bond always drew them back together.

He hummed in response, his hand trailing down to her waist, pulling her even closer. “You should have come with me,” he said. “The woods are beautiful after the rain.”

She tensed slightly in his arms. He often spoke about her leaving the cabin with him, walking through the woods together, living as though they were a normal couple. But she couldn’t. The thought of venturing out, of seeing the outside world again, only made her feel more trapped. It reminded her of everything she had lost.

“I like it here,” she said, the lie slipping from her lips so easily now.

Scoups let out a soft, satisfied sound, seemingly content with her answer. He turned her in his arms so that she was facing him, his piercing eyes locking onto hers. The intensity in them hadn’t faded over the years—if anything, it had grown stronger. His love for her, his need for her, had only deepened with time.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against hers in a tender, possessive kiss. And just like every other time, she kissed him back, the bond between them compelling her to do so. The kiss was gentle, but she could feel the fire behind it, the raw desire that always simmered beneath the surface.

When he finally pulled away, his hand caressed her cheek, his eyes searching hers with a strange mix of adoration and hunger. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice laced with a dark kind of devotion. “You know that, don’t you?”

She nodded, her throat tight, the words she wanted to say stuck behind the weight of the bond. She knew he loved her, in his own twisted way. And despite everything, despite the years of feeling trapped, she loved him back.

Whether she wanted to or not.

But deep down, beneath the bond, beneath the love that wasn’t truly her own, there was a part of her that still longed for freedom. A part of her that wondered what her life could have been like if she had never met him. If she had never been claimed by the monster who loved her so much, he had stolen her away from the world.

She was his, forever.

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pokeshippingweek · 4 months ago

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POKESHIPPING WEEK 2024!

It's that time again, pokeshippers!

Last year, we announced that the format of Pokeshipping Week - one theme per day - was getting retired. We also said that we'd still put on a celebration of some kind going forward. Well, the time is here, and I'm happy to announce that we are planning a pokeshipping zine...next year!

If you'll forgive the bait-and-switch there, we have seriously talked about doing a zine, but time got away from us this summer. So, while we do hope to tackle that undertaking in 2025, for this year, we're planning what you might call an open Pokeshipping Week!

How does it work, you ask? Simple: over the years, you all have submitted a lot of potential themes for Pokeshipping Week. For every seven that got chosen each year, plenty were left behind. Well, now you can fill November 1 to 7 with art, fics, AMVs, GIFs, graphics, etc., all about our favorite Poke-couple, using any seven you'd like from the unused themes list.

Any and all contributions are welcome, and if they're tagged #pokeshipping week 2024, we'll reblog them here and on the main @pokeshipping blog. Besides Tumblr, we’ll keep our eyes out for the tag on Twitter and DeviantART for artwork, for fanfics on FF.Net and AO3, and for AMVs on YouTube (no NSFW, please).

The full list of unused themes (from years 2020 through 2023) is below the "Read More" break. Use, combine, and create as your heart desires, and we'll see you November 1!

A bad fight A day in the life A never-ending road A ship full of shippers Alola sunset scene Amusement park Anime characters meet their game/manga counterparts Anniversary Art classes together/Drawing each other Ash and Misty in Sinnoh Ash’s hat Avatar: The Last Airbender AU Birthdays Breakup Cameran Palace ball (as in Movie 8) Celebrating Celebrities Champions/Masters Cheerleader Misty Childhood sweethearts Chocolate Comfort during a natural disaster Comforting each other Competition Confiding in one another Cooking disaster Costumes Criminal/Detective Crossover Crossover with game/manga-verse D&D Dealing with Team Rocket’s teasing in “A Scare in the Air” Dewpider/Araquanid Different hairstyle Disaster dates Disney AU Double dating Elder years Elders Ash and Misty Evolution Fairy tales/Fantasy AU Fankids Fireworks First day on the job Food Fortune-telling/foresight Game of Thrones AU Giving advice to a younger generation Grey hair Gym leader Ash/beginner Misty Halloween/horror/ghost story Hanahaki disease Handkerchief Happily Ever After/Fairy Tales Hiding Hogwarts AU Horizons Hot tub/Hot springs If Ash heard Misty’s Song If Ash or Misty weren’t from Kanto If Ash started his journey at 16 or older If Ash’s journey had ended after winning the Indigo League (in season 1) If Misty caught Lapras If one came from another region If their parents met If they didn’t meet on Ash’s first day In-universe Pokéshippers Intimacy Japanese-style confessional love letter JRPG AU (ie, Final Fantasy, Dragon Quest, Monster Hunter, etc.) Karaoke Ladybug and Chat Noir Last goodbyes Learning a different language Lost Pikachu Love Letter Love triangle Lovers across the multiverse Lovestruck (if Ash acted like Brock) Meeting the parents/relatives Mewtwo Strikes Back alternate ending Misty and other Pokégirls discuss their loved ones together Misty meets Goh and Chloe Misty overcoming her fear of Bug-types Misty the coordinator Misty’s Bug-type phobia Mixtape/playlist Mystery dungeon Nervous Ash Never have I ever Other Pokemon games AU (Detective Pikachu/Pokemon Masters/etc) Out of their element Overprotective Misty Perspective of Oak Ranch Pokémon on their relationship Photo shoot Pirates Plot twist Pokemon daycare Pokémon Mystery Dungeon AU PokéNav communication/Video calling Possessed/evil Misty Pregnancy/Birth Pro-gamers Puberty Reappearance of Ash’s father and/or Misty’s parents Regency Era Romance Return to Orange Islands Romeo and Juliet Sci-fi AU Scuba diving Secret identity/superhero AU Slow Slumber party Spies AU Stargazing Studio Ghibli AU Sunshine and Rain Superhero AU Swimming lessons Sygna suits Tabletop RPG AU Taller (height differences) Tauros ranchers Ash and Misty Time capsule Training together Umbrella Vacation Visiting Oak’s ranch Water and electricity/water and fire What if Ash didn’t take Misty’s bike? Yoga together Z-ring/Mega Stone

#announcement!#pokeshipping week #pokeshipping week 2024 #pokeshipping #news!

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dcvina-claires · 11 months ago

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saw this screenshot on twitter earlier and wanted to elaborate on it. more specifically, i wanted to elaborate on the order i think the remaining survivors will die in if this theory is true. to start off, i think the next to die will be lottie. while lottie isn’t the pinnacle of innocence like laura lee or the moral compass like jackie and nat, she’s not completely irredeemable either. she does bad things, yes, but most of her actions (starting a cult, manipulating the group) come from a place of wanting to help others. she’s horrified when she finds out that the others hunted nat and let javi die instead and she’s willing to get beaten half to death just so shauna would feel better. that being said, she’s the one who leads in sexually assaulting travis, making her more guilty than laura lee, jackie, and natalie who didn’t partake. after lottie, i think taissa will be the next to die. it’s undeniable that tai has done some horrible things. she sacrificed dogs, purposely injured allie because she wasn’t a good enough player, and abandoned her comatose wife and child to hook up with her ex. that being said, a fair amount of the horrible things she does are when she’s the other version of her. tai wants to be good, but whatever is possessing her won’t allow her to be. out of all the yellowjackets, she’s the only one who was not conscious during jackie’s cannibalism, and was disgusted when van told her that she ate someone. which brings us to the third death: van. now, i know that this may seem odd. after all, what has van, who’s actions (affectionately) have had very little impact on the plot done to make her worse than tai or lottie or even nat? the answer is that van is the only one who doesn’t feel any guilt over what she did in the wilderness. it becomes especially apparent in her conversation with travis (“you should be ashamed” “i’m not ashamed travis. i’m glad i’m alive”) that she will do whatever it takes to survive. when javi is dying, the look that van gives him is bloodthirsty, eager. while she may not seem like the most important player at the moment, i believe that van will continue to go down a very dangerous path that leads her to being one of the more amoral survivors by the time of her death. as for misty and shauna, it definitely seems like shauna will die first. yes, they’ve both killed people, but shauna isn’t the abusive kidnapper that misty is. however, shauna is the main character, and i simply cannot see any version of the show where she isn’t the last to die. this leads me to believe that something is going to happen later on in the show that somehow makes her worse than misty, and she will be the last survivor following misty’s demise. and even then, at the end of the show, she will die too

#yellowjackets #yj #lottie matthews #taissa turner #van palmer #misty quigley #shauna shipman #shauna sadecki #laura lee #jackie taylor #natalie scatorccio #nat scatorccio

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mooncrestedwaters · 11 months ago

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Rafayel Partner/BF/Husband Headcanon's

🫧Notes; Back on my bullshit

I did some headcanons for just Rafayel on his own and decided to add some on what I think he'd be like in a relationship

Should I do some smutty ones later on? 🤔

🦪 Being Rafayel's partner means you need to be his muse in tow. Get ready for sitting still for hours on end as he paints you until he's satisfied

🦪 You will invade every aspect of his thoughts, morning, noon and night and he has to practically LEASH himself to not text or call you because "Hey y/n, I saw a flower, it's your favorite!", "hey y/n, what's your thoughts on (insert random obscure topic here)?", "Hey y/n would you still love me if I were a worm?", "hey y/n, lets mix random things in a blender and drink it!"

🦪 Despite his bubbly nature and eagerness to pester you and not give you a moments rest, he is horrifically shy around you.

🦪 One miniscule touch and he's acting like he's been deprived of water for decades and you're the prettiest oasis

🦪 He'll practically rub his cheek against your hand, one hand secured tightly around your wrist to keep it in place and the other around your waist keeping you flush up against him as he begs for you to pay him an attention

🦪 "Y/NNNNNNNNN~! COME GIVE ME ATTENTION!" x1000

🦪 Play with his hair and he becomes goo, melts into you like putty and his eyes become misty with how much he enjoys it

🦪 Likes to treat you as his personal dress-up dolly, especially adorning you in any colours that match himself or the sea he loves just as much as you

🦪 He's not stupidly possessive....but he is with you and shows it in a multitude of ways;

- Buying your perfume, he knows what scents you like and for damn sure what smells best on you

- He knows your measurements and can pick out your size perfectly to flatter you

- Gives you jewelry with his colours/initial on them

- Does your make-up and hair because he wants his personal artist touch displayed on you

🦪 Sucker for matching things, will roll his eyes about it but he has a special shelf for all your matching things and has to make sure your matching mugs are used at the same time with you (or he will get pouty, like how dare you use matching mugs no. 56 without him)

🦪 His phone background is you, he puts on his socials that he's taken with your initial and a '🔒' beside it

🦪 Gods spare the poor soul who inquires or asks about you;

First, he'll be suspicious, sussing out the other party to make sure your safety is protected and then the moment he has verified the person isn't a threat the loving gushing words come out like a dam broken and he literally cannot shut the fuck up about you

🦪 Even when you first started dating he'd refer to you as his 'Wife/Husband'

🦪 Has a notes folder with everything about you, from your favorite colour to what your allergies are

🦪 God forbid he sees you cry. His first priority is to comfort and coddle you in his arms, tightly squeezing you in his arms and brushing you hair with his fingers

If he finds out the reason why you're upset is because of someones actions towards you then that person will hear about it and be paid a special visit

🦪 Best at massages and more than happy to give them

🦪 Part of the pretty hands club, art creating art fr

🦪 In public spaces he needs to have some form of skinship or to be as close to y/n as possible (he will pout and sulk if not)

🦪 Loves to paint y/n while they're asleep

🦪 Has gotten huffy and painted whatever colour was one his brush on y/n (cue play fighting of throwing paint at each other)

🦪 Hates to cook, will cook is y/n asks for it

🦪 Best partner for when y/n is sick/has that time of the month;

He knows ALL of your favorite snacks, what brand medicine/sanitary pads you use and what gifts to get you to cheer you up

🦪 Love languages is Words of Affirmation, Gift Giving and Quality Time

🦪 Favorite date nights are when he can be creative or use his hands to make something;

- Date night where you paint together

- Date nights building lego together (he calls it childish yet keeps buying the sets)

- Date night where you cook together

🦪 When you're sad, one of his ways to cheer you up is to turn on 2000s pop hits and give y/n a private show

- Backstreet Boys? Nope, Rafayel has dressed himself in all white and serenades you

- NSYNC? Nope, Rafayel put two minute noodles on his head as you cackle

- Britney Spears? Nah, it's Rafayel Bitch (You still have pictures of him in a pleated mini skirt and his short hair with two miniscule twin tails)

He takes the brunt of the embarrassment to see your face streaked with tears of joy instead of tears of grief

🦪 Banter Banter Banter, doesn't fucking stop until he gets worked up enough, grabs your cheeks with one hand and kisses you passionately

🦪 Y/N: Oh, thats cute!

Rafayel: *opens wallet*

🦪 Has shown up to your work with flowers and gifts before (Tara won't let you live it down)

🦪 Nicknames for you are;

- Princess/Prince

- My Muse

- Little Fishy

- Darling

- Pretty Baby

- Gorgeous Girl/Boy

🦪 Did a whole exhibit with paintings he made because of you and refused to sell any of them

To him, the world gets to see you but will never own a part of you

#love and deepspace #rafayel #love and deepspace rafayel #lads rafayel #rafayel love and deepspace #love & deepspace #rafayel girlie #rafayel headcanons

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venus-haze · 2 years ago

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My Destruction Is an Hour Late (Homelander x Reader)

Summary: As a nameless, faceless administrative assistant, you never expected any members of The Seven to give you the time of day. In your year or so of working at Vought, Homelander’s taken a particular liking to you, always seeking you out to help him with whatever tasks or projects he can conjure up to take up as much of your time as possible. When you’re not available to help him after hours since you have a date planned, his interest in you proves to be far more than professional.

Note: Reader is a woman but no other descriptors are used. First time writing for Homelander so I hope it’s at least okay! Y/N naming convention isn’t used in this, Homelander only refers to you by pet names. This takes place between seasons 1 and 2. On the shorter side of what I usually write, but a lot happens in this. Title comes from one of my favorite lines from Buddy’s Rendezvous by Father John Misty. Do not interact if you are under 18 or if you post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: Homelander is a warning. Suspected murder, age gap (Homelander is in his 40s while the reader is 20s/30s), emotional manipulation, some dubcon which involves explicit depictions of food play and mommy kink. Do not interact if you are under 18.

Being part of the corporate machine wasn’t exactly what you’d dreamed of when you were a little girl, but working for Vought softened the blow. You could see the look in people’s eyes when you told them who your employer was, one of the first things strangers learned about you. Interest and envy punctuated every question, but what everyone wanted to know was ‘Have you ever met any of The Seven?’

You had, and you weren’t sure whether it was a good or bad thing that in your drive to keep the best paying job you’d ever had in an overpriced city like New York, you earned a reputation of reliability, which meant extra assignments but the overtime pay to go with it. One supe in particular was the source of most of your after hours work. Needless to say, he wasn’t pleased about the singular occasion when you were unavailable.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” you said. “I can’t tonight. I blocked off my time this evening on my calendar.”

“Yes, I saw that, but what could you possibly be doing that you can’t help me with this? You’re my go-to! I thought you were reliable, but this is—“

“I have a date,” you said softly.

His jaw clenched, and you could’ve sworn you saw a flash of red in his eyes for a brief moment as he glared at you. He couldn’t have been that angry that you wouldn’t stay late to help him, not when there were dozens of other low-level Vought employees around. You couldn’t accept jealousy as a possible motivation, perhaps possessiveness, you’d heard of his odd relationship with Madelyn Stilwell, who was killed a little over a month after Vought hired you.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you repeated weakly. “I can help tomorrow.”

He scoffed, clearly expecting you to offer to cancel your date to help him instead. Vought was one of the highest paying employers in the city, and you’d heard from your acquaintances in the HR department that the average job posting got well over 2,000 applicants on the low end. It wasn't uncommon for employees to work late nights here and there, but it seemed like so much of your time was consumed by Homelander. You’d foolishly volunteered to help him with something not long after you’d been hired, and as he said, you’d become his go-to. He intimidated you, but at times you found he could be almost sweet when it was just the two of you.

In all honesty, your social life had suffered immensely since you began working at Vought, and some of your friends had stopped the pretense of asking if you were free when they were planning to hang out, and you’d only become aware of the plans when you saw the Instagram stories after the fact. Restaurants, concerts, weekend trips—that used to be you. In a fit of loneliness and desperation one of the few nights you didn’t arrive back at your apartment and practically collapse asleep, you’d opened all of the dating apps you hadn’t touched in months, and quickly arranged a dinner date at your place with a nice enough guy named Jesse.

You sunk into your desk chair, an expensive ergonomic one he specifically had Ashley order for you because you’d complained of back pain once. Returning to your assignment at hand, you tried to ignore the eyes on you for declining Homelander’s request. At least five o’clock came sooner rather than later, and you rushed to gather your things, wanting to get out of the building as quickly as possible to avoid any further confrontations.

It was odd leaving Vought Tower when it was still light out. You’d almost gotten used to leaving for work and coming home in the dark. The train back to your apartment was unusually crowded, a consequence of actually leaving at rush hour. Jesse would be over at seven, leaving you just an hour and a half when you got back home to cook and get ready. You’d decided on lasagna, a dish easy to make but equally easy to impress with.

Multitasking dinner and fixing up your hair and makeup probably wasn’t the best idea you’d ever had, but before working at Vought, you loved to entertain. It’d been so long, though, you’d forgotten how involved it was. Despite nearly spilling pasta sauce on your simple yet classic black dress, you were a bit relieved when Jesse seemed to be running a few minutes late–until a few minutes turned into far more.

7:14 ‘If you need directions, let me know!’

7:36 ‘Hey, is everything okay?’

7:53 ‘Are you seriously ghosting me?’

At a few minutes past eight, you angrily typed a simple ‘Fuck you’ when a knock at the door startled you, and you nearly pressed send when you flinched. You had half a mind not to answer. Who the hell did he think he was showing up an hour late? Another impatient, more forceful knock echoed through your apartment and you rose to your feet, throwing your phone aside on the couch and storming over to the front door.

Opening it, you expected to see your less than punctual date in your doorway. Instead, the man at your door looked extremely out of place in your modest apartment building.

“Homelander?”

“Sorry I’m late,” he said. “Is that lasagna I smell? Yummy.”

“I—what are you doing here? Not that I’m not glad to see you, but—“

A drop of blood rolled from one of his gloved hands and onto the floor in the hallway. Your mind immediately raced to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he’d just apprehended some violent criminal. Although, in that case, he’d return to the tower right away and report the incident for the crime analytics team.

“I was just in the area and thought I’d stop by,” he said casually, as if he regularly came over to your place unannounced.

You nodded, moving out of the way for him to enter. “Of course, um, is everything okay?”

Vought kept all employee information in a database, and you were sure he had access to it and found your address that way. Still, it didn’t make any sense. You weren’t important on the Vought totem pole, and you didn’t feel like you and Homelander were all that close. Though, it seemed he knew far more about you than you could have anticipated.

The more you considered it, though, the timing, the convenience of his arrival in the absence of your date, not to mention the literal blood on his hands—you looked at him, wide-eyed at the man who just stepped foot in your home, not wanting to believe the worst but knowing it’d be dishonest otherwise.

Homelander grinned, his pearly white canines glistening like fangs beneath the soft lighting you’d carefully set up in your living room. “Now, why are you looking at me like I’m the big bad wolf?”

Your lip trembled. “It’s nothing.”

“Perfect! Then let’s eat,” he announced jovially. “I’m sure you’ve been waiting long enough.”

“Sure, make yourself at home,” you said.

You went into the kitchen to retrieve the lasagna from the oven, which you’d kept at a low temperature to keep the dish warm but not overcook. Grabbing fresh basil from the fridge, you garnished the pasta with a few leaves. Suddenly lasagna seemed like a stupid choice. Jesse probably would have appreciated it, but Homelander was used to food cooked by Vought’s staff of professional chefs. It was too simple, even if you had made the sauce yourself.

He glanced around at the decor in your apartment while you busied yourself in the kitchen. A framed print of Lauren Bacall and Humphrey Bogart on your wall, a well-worn copy of Pride and Prejudice among the books stacked on your coffee table, assorted candles glowing softly in your dim apartment, “You’re quite the romantic, aren’t you?”

You could feel your face heat up at his correct observation, nodding bashfully as you set the tray of lasagna on the table. It didn’t help that in your excitement for the evening, you’d made a ‘first date playlist’ consisting of Elvis, Sinatra, Simone, and some other older artists that played softly from the speaker you had set on the counter. It wasn’t like you had expected Jesse to be the one, but you wanted to indulge yourself.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I am too, really,” he said, his voice oddly assuring, as if he weren’t saying it just to humor you. “Not many of us hopeless romantics around anymore.”

He had taken off his gloves since you’d gone into the kitchen, laying them neatly next to his plate. You ignored the small droplets of blood that had pooled on the table, focusing on making sure the serving of lasagna didn’t collapse into an unsightly mess on his plate. At least luck was on your side in that respect, as you nearly sighed in relief at the nice presentation. You were a bit less careful with your own serving before sitting down across from him.

Having Homelander eat your food felt more nerve-wracking than if Gordon Ramsay were over, it wasn’t like the latter could laser your kitchen table in half if he thought it was horrible.

“Goddamn, this is delicious. What’s that I taste in here?” He sounded genuine, not patronizing as you almost expected. Maybe he just didn’t eat lasagna very often.

“I seasoned the ricotta,” you said.

He snapped his fingers. “That’s it! I didn’t know you cook like this.”

“I love to cook, I just haven’t had much time recently.”

“Interesting what you learn about people outside of work.” He grimaced a bit when he took a sip of wine. That was on you and your tendency to buy cheap alcohol. You could stomach the subpar taste for the sake of the buzz, but as far as you knew, Homelander couldn’t get drunk, so there wasn’t even that benefit.

“I can get you something else to drink. I’m so sorry,” you said. “I have water, iced tea, I think some soda, too.”

He looked at your fridge and huffed, displeased. “You have half a bottle of flat Coke. I’ll take the tea.”

You could’ve given A-Train a run for his money with how fast you raced into the kitchen to pour Homelander a glass of iced tea and bring it back to him.

“Did you find someone to help you with that thing you mentioned earlier?” you asked as you handed him the drink.

He shook his head, waving his hand dismissively. “No, like you said, it can wait until tomorrow.”

You hummed in response, biting back a comment about how it didn’t seem like it just a few hours ago. Instead, you sat back down and focused on finishing the lasagna on your plate. Suddenly it seemed like far too much, but you powered through the rest of the meal you’d worked so hard to make as Homelander led most of the conversation, while you gave short responses, hoping he’d get the hint at how uncomfortable you were. If he did, he certainly didn’t care.

“So, what’s for dessert?” he asked when you collected the dirty plates from the table.

“Ice cream,” you answered. “I’ll get yours first.”

“Nonsense, we can share,” he said.

You merely nodded, disappearing into the kitchen to pull the small carton of vanilla ice cream from your freezer. The bowls in your cupboard seemed too pedestrian to serve Homelander in, until you remembered the plastic, diner-style ice cream cups you’d bought not long after you moved into your apartment. Carefully scooping the dessert into the cup, you were pleased with how professional it looked.

Ice cream and spoon in hand, you set both in front of Homelander, who looked from the treat to you. “Ooh, vanilla, such an under-appreciated flavor, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” you answered, unwilling to admit you’d only bought it because it was on sale, and you had left over chocolate syrup from when you were on your brief home cafe kick.

You yelped when he pulled you onto his lap, bracing yourself by placing your hands on his chest. He seemed pleased at your reaction, smiling as he took a spoonful of ice cream and held it in front of your mouth.

“Go on, sweetheart,” he said.

You leaned in, opening your mouth and allowing him to feed the dessert to you. His smile widened when you swallowed.

“Okay, my turn,” he said cheerfully, ignoring the way your hand shook as you scooped up a generous amount of ice cream and put the spoon in his mouth.

The moan he let out as he sucked the ice cream off of the spoon was nothing short of sinful, and you felt ashamed that it stirred something in you. Sure, you found Homelander attractive and had a brief crush on him before coming to terms with the fact that it’d never happen, but this was just bizarre.

The odd ritual continued for another few agonizing minutes, and it was almost like he was going out of his way to see how much you would put up with before you’d protest or challenge him. You told yourself it was because you wanted to keep your job, and you were definitely afraid of him, but a small part of you that you tried to push deep into the recesses of your mind was starting to enjoy it.

“You know, I’m having a great time. We should do this more often,” he said, finally setting aside the half-empty cup.

You gulped. “Yeah, if you want to.”

“Do you not want to?”

“It’s not that, I just–I was expecting someone else tonight.”

“Right. Jesse,” he said, spitting the name like venom.

You’d never told Homelander your date’s name in the brief conversation you’d had with him about it back at the tower. There was no way he couldn’t hear your heart racing. If you didn’t calm down, you were sure your dinner was going to make an unwelcome reappearance.

“So, what was the plan after the romantic candle lit dinner? Just a kiss goodnight, or were you going to let him fuck you?” he asked, his voice flat as he pinned you in place with nothing more than a cold stare.

You balked at his wording. Not that you hadn’t heard him curse before, it was a shock in and of itself the first time he dropped the f-bomb in front of you. He’d never been so directly crass toward you, though. “I-I don’t—“

“You don’t put out on the first date?” he finished. “Really make ‘em work for it, huh?”

“I just don’t want to be that intimate with someone I don’t know well,” you answered, shifting uncomfortably in his lap.

“Good thing you know me like the back of your hand, right?”

“Mhm,” you hummed absentmindedly.

His fingers brushed one of the slinky spaghetti straps of your black dress, the caress reminding you of how easily he could break you if he wanted to. You'd seen him lift cars with his bare hands and not even break a sweat. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, then to the crook of your neck, then your cheek, until finally he captured your lips in a kiss that left you dizzy. You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath until he forced your mouth open with his tongue.

Tangling your fingers in his hair in an attempt to steady yourself only encouraged him.

He pulled you closer so you were fully straddling him, and you knew despite the force with which he held your hips in place, he was holding back. You nearly choked on your own spit, or perhaps it was a mix of yours and his at this point. He was already pushing it with how much force you could handle, and he was holding back.

When he finally pulled away, you looked at him, glassy-eyed and lips surely in the process of bruising. You could feel his hardening cock through his suit as it pressed against your thighs. He stared at you, intense and uncomfortable for a few moments before his gaze wandered right next to your ass. He picked up the cup of melted ice cream with one hand, and tore open the front of your dress with the other, as if it were nothing more than tissue paper.

“You dress like such a little prude at work, but this–fuck,” he muttered, almost to himself.

Before you could respond, he poured some of the melted ice cream over your chest, and you gasped at the sensation of the cool liquid making contact with your skin. He watched, mesmerized as it rolled down your breasts, a droplet of vanilla hanging from one of your exposed nipples. He dipped his head, licking it gently before taking your breast in his mouth.

You whimpered as his teeth harshly grazed your nipple, needy and insatiable as he lapped up the sticky ice cream that’d begun to dry on your chest.

“Fuck, mommy,” he whined against your skin, throwing you for one hell of a loop.

He poured the rest of the vanilla ice cream on your chest, some of it landing on your already ruined dress. Throwing the cup aside without a second thought, he brought his attention to your other breast which he’d simply been groping until then. You nearly jumped when he grabbed your hand, threading your fingers through his hair. Oh god, he wanted you to pull him closer.

Hesitantly, you pushed his face against your breast, his moan practically vibrating through you. You kept your hand in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp as he relentlessly sucked and licked your breasts. The stimulation was almost too intense to be pleasurable, but the wetness between your legs said otherwise. You couldn’t hide that from a man like Homelander, your gut twisting at the realization he could probably smell your arousal.

He was fully hard now, and with how rough he was getting, you could tell he was close. Biting your sensitive lip, you slipped your hand between your bodies, rubbing his hard on through his suit.

“Oh fuck, mommy, don’t stop,” he moaned.

It felt almost wrong, seeing the most powerful superhero in the world so vulnerable, but you knew better. Despite the facade of submissiveness, he was in control.

“Are-are you close, baby?” you asked, hoping if you played the part, the less time you’d be subject to his troubling fetish.

“Yes,” he whined. “God, I’m–”

He squeezed your breast when he came, and if you weren’t sure it’d be bruised in the morning before, that had made you certain. You gasped in pain, tears rolling down your cheeks which he wiped away in his post-orgasm haze.

“You did so good. You did so fucking good, just like I knew you would,” he praised.

He picked you up like you were nothing, and in a way, you were nothing. Your body was already pushed to limits you’d never experienced before, and the night was far from over, as you’d find three hours and a broken box spring later. You weren’t sure at what point you’d fallen asleep–or maybe passed out was more like it–but when you awoke the next morning well past nine o’clock, your body was almost too sore to move as quickly as you needed it to.

“Good morning, babe,” Homelander greeted as you shuffled into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as if he owned the place.

“Homelander, I’m going to be late—“

“No you’re not. I already called in for you, let ‘em know you’re taking a sick day. We can keep the little white lie between us,” he said, with a mischievous smile and a wink.

“Oh,” was all you managed as you sat at the table, a wrapped breakfast sandwich and cup of coffee from the bagel shop you stopped in every morning was sitting neatly at your place. “You picked up breakfast?”

“It’s the least I can do after you made dinner last night. By the way, the people over there wanted me to tell you congrats when I let them know the good news.”

“Good news?”

“Your promotion,” he said, as if it were obvious. “You’ll be reporting directly to me from now on, take out all of the bureaucratic bullshit between us.”

“Thank you,” you said, voice shaky and uncertain.

He pursed his lips. “I’d expect a little more fucking enthusiasm, but we can work on that.”

“You’re right, I’m just still a little groggy is all,” you said, forcing a smile on your tired face. “Thank you, honey. I appreciate it.”

“There we go,” he said, his quick mood shift almost startling you as he leaned down to give you a kiss. “You know I’m always looking out for you, right, babe?”

You glanced at the dried blood on the other side of the table, where he’d been sitting the previous night. Before you could think too much about it, you widened the fake smile you were giving him. “Of course I do.”

#homelander x reader #the boys #homelander #the boys x reader #homelander imagine

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thesimquarter · 7 months ago

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Quick appreciation of the slightly cursed renders in the GBA manuals for the sims: bustin’ out & the urbz.

Anyways, did you know? The handbooks for the first two handheld Sims games has some unique descriptions for many of the characters!

These are the ‘Meet Your Neighbors’ pages of of The Sims: Bustin’ Out (GBA) and The Urbz: Sims in the City (GBA & DS) in the official game manuals.

[TRANSCRIPTION UNDER CUT]

[page 1]

MEET YOUR SIMVALLEY NEIGHBORS For a small town, SimValley has a lot of colorful characters for your Sim to get acquainted with. This section gives you a peak at just a few of the people who populate your Sim’s new home town.

Dusty Hogg - This bad boy biker plays by his own rules. While rumors around town state that he still lives with his parents, we don’t recommend you tease him about that—or anything else.

Mad Willy Hurtzya - Mad Willy knows a thing or two about going 10 rounds. Quick to solve a problem by applying his fists, he's definitely more of a fighter than a lover

Eddie Renalin - Although some Sims say that Eddie used to be a skinny twerp of a kid, those allegations have never been proven. Though short on smarts, these days Eddie's the biggest and strongest guy around town.

Bucki Brock - Bucki is a straight shooter who was born and raised right in the Valley. This is one girl who knows a cow from a steer and that's no bull.

Daddy Bigbucks - Daddy is sure enough a big spender. Your Sim will want to keep on his god side a to ensure they're near the drainpipe should any of that wealth trickle down.

Det. Dan D. Mann - Detective Dan D. Mann is the police presence in SimValley. He prides himself on keeping the SimValley streets safe and boasts that jaywalking is down 25% since he took on the beat.

[page 2]

O. Phil McClean - While O. Phil McClean isn’t the friendliest fisherman your Sim will ever meet, he does know the best spots for reeling in the biggest fish. If your Sim can get to know this crusty angler, he might tell them just what he’s using for bait.

Ephram Earl - This otherworldly neighbor is very familiar with things that go bump in the night. A bit on the loony side, this ghost can still give your Sim some of the worldly belongings that he no longer needs.

Misty Waters - Misty is responsible for keeping swimming Sims from expiring in the watery deep. She prides herself on staying fit, all the better to save lives and look good in her work uniform... a swimsuit.

Chet R. Chase - No hoity-toity, fancy French cooking for Chet R. Chase. A SimValley native, Chet serves up a tasty plate o' vittles that’s pure down home cooking.

Olde Salty - Olde Salty is the SimValley fish monger. He's a grumpy old sailor so ye'd best be wary of what ye say!

Nicki Knack - This SimValley old timer has made it her business to put her nose in everyone else's. A devoted collector of this and that, Nicki really might have a use for some of the items your Sim can't use.

Uncle Hayseed - Thanks to Uncle Hayseed’s generous invitation to come and spend the summer in SimValley, your Sim has a chance to enjoy the slower-paced life of country livin’ at its finest.

[Page 3]

Giuseppi Mezzoalto - Some Sims are suspicious of this Giuseppi and think that he sometimes uses his van for moving people's things—whether he hired or not, But when it's time to relocate, his big, roomy van does the trick for toting a Sim’s possessions across town.

In addition to this cast of characters, there are many more Sims around town who can become friends, roommates, or more!

[Page 4]

Darius - King of the Streeties, Darius has moves on the court and is a straight shooter when it comes to darts. He can usually be found at his hangout, Club Xizzle. Remember to stay away from his hotdogs.

Kris Thistle - Kris Thistle is King Tower's janitor. Outgoing, with a touch of attitude, she's more at home in her darkroom than behind a mop.

Daddy Bigbucks - Sim Valley's big spender moved to Miniopolis with plans to buy the entire city! Keep your eyes and ears open—this cat is definitely up to something.

Polly Nomial - Queen of the Nerdies and Associate Professor at the university, Polly is one smart cookie. If you're lucky, she might show you her vintage dictionary collection.

Roxanna Moxie - Flamboyant and fearless, Roxanna Moxie is the Carnival ringmaster and Queen of the Artsies. Fond of the bizarre, she counts the founding of the carnival's first freak show among her greatest achievements.

Luthor L Bigbucks III - Luthor is son and heir to Daddy Bigbucks' financial empire. A jetsetter and King of the Richies, Luthor walks the walk, but didn’t quite inherit his father’s evil streak.

[Page 5]

MEET YOUR NEIGHBORS The city is full of people for your Urb to get acquainted with. This section gives you the rundown on some of the people you'll meet.

Darius - King of the Streeties, Darius can usually be found at his hangout, Club Xizzle. Remember to stay away from his corndogs.

Kris Thistle - The King Tower janitor is outgoing, with a touch of attitude. Kris is more at home in her darkroom than behind a mop.

Daddy Bigbucks - Sim Valley's big spender moved to Miniopolis with plans to buy the entire city! Keep your eyes and ears open—he's definitely up to something.

Futo Maki - This construction worker oversaw the renovation of Splicer Island before it was shut down. Maybe you can put him back to work.

Sharona Faster - Sharona had plans to operate a water taxi to Splicer Island, until Daddy Bigbucks squashed her dream.

Jack I. Deal - This big man used to work for Daddy Bigbucks himself, but now he's got different ideas on how to earn his living.

Busta Cruz - This guy is a born entertainer. He keeps the Urbz amusement levels up.

Downloads to the full manuals can be found in this archive.

#… or you can just google them. they’re pretty easy to find.#sims bustin out #sims gba #sims ds #honestly i love that they did these SO much #i did track down the NGAGE manual and the sims 2 for ds/gba (& sims 2 pets gba) and those don’t have these #(i couldn’t find the sims 2 for psp game manual for some reason?)#the NGAGE manual has a very… different render of uncle hayseed on it #anyways. MAN. that busta cruz description is awful aksjdj #also i think it’s funny that luthor really is called ‘luthor l. bigbucks iii’ everywhere EXCEPT the actual game!#sims handhelds #urbz #urbz handheld #tsq #sims bustin' out #sims bustin' out handheld #gbasims

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seecarrun · 1 month ago

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Misty eyes the whole situation warily, cautious to not get her hopes up that anything would be different here than it was last time.

Ash Ketchum, the unwitting holder of her heart, stands in the doorway to the kitchen, once again shoving food into his dumb face, either unaware or uncaring that he has positioned himself, once again, under the goddamn mistletoe.

“There’s no way he’s that dumb, right?” she asks Psyduck, who looks up at her with a blank and vacant expression. And Misty realizes that yeah, he absolutely could be that dumb, she’s seen him in action more times than she count.

She weighs her options, sipping her eggnog for a little extra liquid courage. She could a) ignore it, let someone else either give him a head’s up or try to steal a kiss and possibly get humiliated exactly as she had all those years ago. Or, who knows, maybe they would get a kiss. Ash had to have grown up at least a little since then, right? Right. Or, she could b) go over there and shoot her shot herself.

Decisions, decisions.

She hangs back and watches just a minute more, and when it becomes clear that Ash is there to stay, she makes her decision. Rolling her shoulders and standing up straight in a poor attempt at tricking herself into thinking she’s confident, she downs the rest of her eggnog in one gulp, slams her empty cup onto the window ledge, and strides over to the doorway, leaving Psyduck behind.

“Hey Ash,” she begins, innocently enough. Ash looks up from his plate of desserts and smiles, closed lip, his mouth full.

“Mi Mifty,” he greets her back. Misty doesn’t hold back her look of disgust.

“Ugh, gross,” she says, crinkling her nose. “Chew and swallow, would you?”

“Wurfing on if.”

She weighs her options again, questioning her own taste in men when she’s reminded that this is what she wants so badly to kiss, and sighs. She still thinks he’s adorable even when he’s being a total lechonk. This is it all right. “Take your time,” she tells him dryly, and finally, he manages to swallow his food and gives her a megawatt smile.

“Okay, there,” he laughs, at least looking sheepish. “What’s up?”

He seriously doesn’t know he’s under the mistletoe, she realizes, and can’t help but answer him by pointing up at the top of the door frame. “Well, that’s up, for one thing,” she says.

Ash follows her finger, his eyes widening when he finally notices the plant. “Oh,” he chokes out.

“No pressure,” she assures him when she sees the panic start to creep onto his face. “No need to go running across the room and into a table or anything. A simple no will do.”

He frowns at that, looking satisfyingly guilty. “Oh man,” he begins, “I’m sorry about that, Mist. I know it was a long time ago, and you wouldn’t have wanted to kiss me anyway, but that was pretty shitty of me.”

Misty cringes internally at the ‘you wouldn’t have wanted to kiss me anyway’, and outwardly offers him a kind smile. “It’s seriously fine, Ash. We were kids.” Dumb, dumb kids.

Ash’s frown deepens, then suddenly, his eyes harden and he looks up at her, a worryingly determined glint in his eyes. “Well, I’ll just have to make it up to you,” he declares.

“What?” Misty asks, before she is all of a sudden being kissed on the cheek by Ash Ketchum.

He pulls away and they stare at each other with wide eyes, like they both can’t believe that Ash had just done that, when he decides to officially give her heart attack and says, “Okay, one down, one to go.”

“One to go?!” she cries, and it’s Ash’s turn to look at her liked she’s the idiot.

“That one was for last time,” he explains. “We’re under it again, aren’t we?”

And Misty, perhaps possessed or emboldened by Ash’s actions, lets her heart speak before her head can stop it. “Well are,” she confirms. “And we’re not kids anymore either. Shouldn’t this kiss be a little more gown up, too?”

Ash’s eyes widen, but his expressions quickly shifts into something determined, despite his reddening cheeks. “It should,” he states confidently, and before she knows it, he’s leaning in.

Misty is no expert, but she’s pretty sure the kiss is worth the wait.

#pokeshipping #car’s fanfiction #satokasu #ash ketchum #pokemon misty #aaml #more Christmas fic fun :)#referencing Under the Mistletoe of course

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zombieunicorngamerzu · 2 years ago

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(GIP Misty Quigley x fem reader)

[Warnings - dubcon, drugging, breeding, penetration, praise, Misty drugging you with mushrooms to make you seem sick so she has the excuse to “take care of you alone.”]

When Misty made you tea, you thought nothing of it. You and Misty had always been close, you were her only friend, the only girl that’s ever been nice to her, that treated her indifferently, god- she loved you for it, and I mean LOVED you for it. Literally. She was obsessed with you, even before the crash.

She would watch you from afar when you were on the field, trying to hide the many erections she got while watching you, sometimes having to go back to the lockeroom to jerk herself off to the thought of how hot you looked when you practiced, or the many sleepovers you’d have at her house when you would share a bed, giving her the perfect change to touch you in your sleep or jerk off next to you as quietly as she could.

There were so many times she wanted to confess her feelings for you, but she was way too terrified to loose you, her only friend. Out here in the wilderness you started to depend on her more, became her sleeping buddy in the attic, clung to her side more, it only made her happier and happier that she destroyed the planes communication box, she got to take care of you out here and you and the team started to depend on her, she was happier than ever.

But it became a problem when Travis started to try to talk to you more, you weren’t interested at all she noticed, of coarse you weren’t. You told her many times your darkest secret, that you were a lesbian, but Travis didn’t get the hint and tried to keep pushing you, making Misty light up with jealousy and possessiveness. She needed to make sure he knew you were hers, no matter what it took, she was getting impatient too, her just wanted to hold you close, to love you.

Was that so bad? Sure, when the shroom she was planning on drugging you with got put in the stew, she was angry, but then she realized this was the perfect opportunity to get you alone, all the others were celebrating “doomcoming” and were also high off their asses with the shrooms, Misty made sure you ate extra, but she didn’t partake, she wanted to be sober for what she had planned.

You we’re sitting alone, staring at a tiny tree while touching it, Misty thought you looked so innocent and adorable, sitting down next to you, her voice soft, “Hey, Y/N, are you okay?” You nodded with a blank look, your voice slow and void of emotion, out of it. “Yeah… I’m just- being.” Misty chuckles at your words, resting her hand on your thigh which you barely even noticed, “Come on, Y/N, let’s go back to the cabin together, I have a surprise for you.” She smiled, pulling you up.

You just nodded and followed along as she dragged you back to the cabin, she was smiling with a pep in her step the whole time, she was gonna confess tonight, to make you hers. She brought you up to the attic before sitting you down as she started to pace, “Okay, Y/N, I’m gonna tell you something, okay?” You just blinked and nodded innocently, staring up at her, making her sigh with a smile, “I like you- and I mean I like like you, as in, I want to be with you.”

You didn’t really react to her confession, just staring blankly at her before she just quickly dove down to kiss you passionately, making you let out a noise of surprise, trying to pull away but she shushed you and grabbed ahold of your wrists, “Shh, Shh, Y/N, don’t fight me, I just wanna take care of you…” she husked out while pushing you to lay down as she reached down to the belt of her jeans, sloppily undoing the belt before pushing and wiggling her hips down to make your thighs part,

“Misty-“ *You whined out with a sniffle, you were confused and pouty, kicking your feet lazily with a whine, trying to babble out, “No, wait- wait-“ you tried to whimper out, you were a virgin, Misty knew that, she knew you would be scared but she was here, you were safe, her hands pushing yours above your head as she bucked her hips into yours, making you gasp out a surprised whimper of pain and discomfort as her cock pushed inside you with a slow stretch, making Misty sigh out a loud moan of pleasure, her eyes fluttering, “Ohhhh, Y/N, you feel better then I imagined!”

You didn’t even know Misty had a cock, you were severely confused and wondering if this was just a trip or not, but fuck was she big, and fuck did it hurt the first couple of thrusts as she held you down, you slowly adjusted to her size and grew wetter after some praises and coos from her as she panted and gasped while rutting into you, making her cock a sloppy mess, “Oh fuck- yea, baby- agh- that’s it, that’s it, that’s it, all mine, take it baby take it, take my cock, such a good girl for me, fuck your tight!”

Misty rambled out as she started to growl and grunt, leaning down to kiss you so sloppy, smiling and giggling as she pushed her tongue into your mouth, starting to thrust faster and sloppier, trembling above you with a moan, Misty felt her cock throbbing inside you, her balls churning with cum before she got the brilliant idea, she should cum in you, she should claim you, then you’d really be hers, forever, you’d have her cute little baby, she hoped for a girl immediately, imagining your features and her wild curly hair, oh shes just imagining your belly swelling and you’d have to depend on her fully, the though made her cry out, slamming her hips into yours roughly, making you cry out as you both came, Misty growling as she gave a few more sloppy thrusts before spilling her cum inside you, making sure to go balls deep, feeling you squeeze and gush cum around her cock as she laid down atop it you.

“Oh Y/N, I love you..” *She panted out with a smile, kissing your cheek before snuggling up with you, keeping her cock deep inside you so her cum wouldn’t spill out, not wanting to waste any only her precious seed, hugging you tight and possessively as you laid under her, just confused, shocked, and panting, trembling from your orgasm and you just submitted to her, Misty wasn’t so bad… plus you knew she’d take care of you., mumbling back out of fear or attraction, “I love you too?”

#yellowjackets season 2 #yellowjackets x reader #misty quigley #misty quigley x reader #yellowjackets showtime #yellowjackets #yellowjackets smut

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yandereunsolved · 10 months ago

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Hii Im not sure if youre taking requests rn but if you have the time I would love for a yandere Kit Walker hc set or a yandere post death Kyle Spencer fic where the reader tries to leave him at Misty’s :)

The Honey In My Honeycomb - ,, yandere Kit Walker pre and post Asylum

tw(s): yandere themes, mentions of baby trapping, mention of murder of child(ren), descriptive gore

♡ It all started out like a cheesy romance movie. Your car broke down, and Kit just happened to be driving by. He fixed your car and invited you back to his shop. He ended up changing your oil and tires for free. It evolved into the two of you dating shortly after. You never saw the warning signs—none of them. You never saw through Kit's honeyed words and his charming smile. You would have been better off if you just listened to that tiny voice in the back of your mind telling you to run while you still could.

♡ You were stuck at his shop all day. He had gone home to retrieve some tools and never came back. You got worried that something may have happened to him. You weren't prepared for the gory scene you found. A trail of blood led to your bedroom, where you found Kit passed out near the mutilated corpse of a woman. Your clothes were thrown all around him, and he was cuddling them in his sleep. You freaked out and shrieked, which woke him up. He desperately tried to explain it to you. He pleaded with you to just listen to him. You didn't. You ran and reported him to the police. A part of your mind did want to believe him. The more time that passed, the more you believed in his innocence. Only you were wrong. He did murder all those people that he was accused of killing—over fifteen. He did it all for you. That is the secret he will take to the grave with him.

♡ He was put in Briarcliff Asylum while awaiting his trial. You were allowed to visit him, although it terrified you. You had heard such bloodcurdling stories about that place from the few patients that had survived it. Your visits with him always had to be monitored. Sometimes, though, no one would. That confused you, but you never verbalized it. Kit just threatened to kill the nuns if they interrupted your time with him. All of the nuns thought he must have been possessed by some lust devil. He just could never seem to get enough of you. Day and night, the only thing that came out of his mouth was praise about you—how pretty you looked, how vulnerable you were, how he had to protect you from the vile world that threatened to taint your purity.

♡ It was irritating, really. Protecting your visage wasn't easy when so many people tried to interrupt him. He had to get rid of Grace. It was really her fault. She just shouldn't have been flirting with him. She shouldn't have tried to come onto him. She shouldn't have ignored his warnings. He said multiple times that he was a man who was happily dating such a beautiful thing as yourself. Grace just didn't seem to listen to that. She even had the gall to interrupt one of your meetings with each other. He was in the middle of showing you how much he missed you. That was the last straw.

He made it seem like it was Doctor Arden's fault with a botched sterilization. He can clean that up himself. He's a big boy, and Kit isn't helping. He can't make himself look guilty in any way, of course. He could never let you know how much of a monster he really was.

♡ He has kept a ring in his pocket since the day he met you. The ring belonged to his grandfather. It's practically a family heirloom. He so desperately wants to put it on your finger. He just wants everyone to know that you belong to him—his darlin', his one and only. The thing is extremely shiny, too. It'd look so good on your hand.

♡ That's not the only jewelry he has for you. He has a lot more tucked away in his trusty, rusty old red tool box. He stole all of it from the people he killed for you. He plans on giving it all to you as wedding gifts. He'll fix all of the pieces, of course. He'll wipe the blood away and make sure none of it stains your beautiful figure. He also stole their money from their bank accounts. He has more than enough to keep you both financially stable until you die. He would never let his little house spouse work with some other man. The thought of it just makes his hand itch to reach for an axe.

♡ He fantasizes about what your wedding would look like. You'd look like a god(dess) walking down the aisle toward him. You wouldn't need anyone but him and the priest. He would kill the priest after. You wouldn't know that. It's just that he can't let anybody see such a holy sight except for him. He wouldn't want to risk somebody making an off comment or lusting over your figure.

Your body is yours and yours alone. It's also his, if you'll allow him to have it.

He can't wait till the wedding night. He has it all planned out. After your dinner, you'll both bathe together. He'll set the mood. You both will have each other for the first time in marriage. It's something that makes his mouth water when he thinks about it.

♡ If you can get pregnant... He will immediately try for a baby with you. He just thinks your belly would look so adorable swollen up with a mixture of you and him. You'd be completely dependent on him. You wouldn't be able to leave, and he'd be the best father to your children. Not to mention, he can teach them how to be protective of you. It'll be absolutely perfect! You'll have no way to escape!

♡ If you are unable to get pregnant... Kit doesn't want you to worry. He'll just pick a random kid off the street if he needs to. He'll kidnap a baby from the hospital and say he adopted them. He could go the legal route for adoption as well, if that would better please you. Anything to keep you with him until you both die in each other's arms.

♡ He ideally wants anywhere from two to five kids. He's always wanted one girl and one boy. He'd ultimately want five because you'd never leave him all alone with five children. Sure, you could run off with two, three, and a slim chance of four, but five? No. You have absolutely no chance of escaping him, then. Unless you wanted to abandon them and him, that is. That's fine! He'll just threaten their lives. He'll kill one of them if it convinces you to stay. There are no lengths he wouldn't go to to prove his unending love for you.

♡ He already has your shared casket picked out. He picked it out within the first week of both of you dating. He's already written both of your wills with your future children in mind. He has the plot of land picked out and everything. He may not be a rich man, but he'd spend every penny he has to make sure your shared resting place is envious to the heavens.

♡ The day he is released is a day that will live in infamy within his mind. He finally knew that he had to tie you to him, both literally and figuratively. He understood how fickle humanity is. He needs to save you from the dangers and trauma he faced while in there. The same Kit that came into the asylum isn't the same one that came out. He's a lot more open about his obsessive and possessive tendencies. That crazed look in his hazel irises isn't clouded by his sweet and homey nature anymore. You could see it; you can see it now. You couldn't escape.

♡ He doesn't allow you to leave the house for the first few months. If you try to escape, then it'll be even longer before he allows you to roam free without many restraints. You are trapped within a prison of his own desire. He gaslights you into believing it's for the best. You know how dangerous the world is out there. He's been through the asylum. He knows. He just wants to protect you. Can't you see that? He's traumatized and wants to protect you from that trauma. So that means locking you away in your shared house and keeping you there. Don't worry about boredom. Kit will buy you anything that will make a smile appear on your features. He's addicted to it. You have no shortage of books and other trinkets to keep you entertained while he is out working. Just not anything that you could use to communicate with people. The last thing he needs is you getting that silly little idea in your head to call the police on him.

♡ After about a year in captivity, assuming you haven't made numerous escape attempts, he'll propose to you and allow you to take short excursions with him. The wedding is just as he thought. It's just you, him, and the priest in the middle of the woods, only a few miles from your shared house. You may not have any guests or family, and he may have foraged the wedding certificate by signing fake people as witnesses, but your marriage is still real. A piece of paper doesn't define your love for each other. Of course, he murders the priest after. He chopped him up into tiny pieces with his axe, soaked his body in a mixture of chemicals, and then left those pieces of him at the bottom of lakes, rivers, and streams at least twenty miles away from the house. If you ask him what he's doing, he'll simply say that he's doing some spring cleaning. He's just taking out a bunch of old trash, that's all.

♡ Even when you gain more privileges, Kit still always has an eye on you. He's always close to you. He'll give you the illusion of space and privacy if he needs to. If you distance yourself too much from him, then he'll sweet talk you into letting him into your space once again. You don't feel good? It's because you haven't let him make you feel good in a while. You feel depressed because you aren't around him as much. You're isolating yourself from him. That's the problem. The problem is you. He'll be right here when you inevitably crawl back to him. He'll shush you and pepper kisses all along your body. You'll realize that you need him even more than he needs you.

♡ Give it two to five years and a lot of begging, and he'll let you help him while he works. He doesn't let you do any hard labor or interact with the customers. No, honey, he keeps you safe and sound in the back of the shop. You can clean his tools, sort his things, and perhaps even handle the money if he trusts you enough. It may look mundane to most people, but you crave it. You've been starved of any autonomy for the past few years. Being able to control a small workplace is like being somewhere safe, somewhere without Kit. You can allow your mind to drift off and fool yourself into thinking that you are safe. You can just imagine that Kit is nowhere to be found. You can almost taste freedom on your tongue during those fleeting moments.

♡ If you ask for help from someone, he kills them and burns their bodies to ashes in the hearth in your home. He finds it extremely romantic. He'll cuddle into you and whisper sweet nothings into your ear. He'll nip at your skin and mark you up. He's just a bit jealous. He's just a little more possessive. He can't believe that you thought someone else was better than him. He can't believe you wanted to leave him. He'll show you how good you have it. He'll just have to show you again how good he makes you feel—inside and out. The vile dead bodies of the people who have tried to help you take you away from him will keep you both warm at night. He'll take you right in front of the fireplace. He'll claim you again near the sizzling embers of those who dared get near you.

♡ Kit Walker is still as in love with you as the day he laid eyes on you. He has fallen even further into the depths of his own obsession with you. He's ready to take the next step and start a family with you. He can't wait to see your little ones running around the home. He can't wait to see them graduate with you. He can't wait to grow old with you; his devotion to you never faltering. He just needs you to be with him forever, even into the afterlife. He loves you. He'd kill the devil and every god in existence if he had to, just to keep you in his arms forever more.

-‘๑’-

ׂׂૢ taglist: @coentinim @bluerthanvelvet444 @cxndiedvi0lets @doll3tt33 @lacucarachapisser @fear-is-truth @slutforgarlogan @newwavesylviaplath @marchsfreakshow @violet1737

-‘๑’-

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